#anyways I have many many Thoughts about them at all times

[teukiemomo]

It is true I didn't follow the US politics before the election. This is just based on what I've seen so far since the election (since like the debate where Trump said questionable things about dog and cat eating since that kinda blew up everywhere lol):

As far as I know Fox News is Trump's ass-kisser. CNN is the opposite. NBC, MSNBC are anti Trump's dumb things which are... all Trump's things. I'm not sure what their usual stance is before the election, but during the election it was kinda like Fox News vs. everyone (it still is now). And based on what I've seen so far on Fox News their correspondences sound so... insensitive and delusional I'd immediately question their professionalism and therefore no longer trust whatever excuse they make for Trump.

Late night shows hosts are very against Trump. They dissed him every time I saw them on youtube and this is like every night? Some of them do sound unserious so people may disregard them, but Jon Stewart and John Oliver are 2 people whom I think really look into the issues like Project 2025, gun issue, inflation, crime etc. and bring evidences to the table, lots of times, to expose Trump. Both are also very critical of Dems on certain issues but often pointed out how Trump is always the worse option. With that much exposure to Trump's darkness (and, like, with proofs) I honestly thought the result would go the other way. Unless there's something I missed.

Twitter - I know there's an agenda pushed there 'thanks to' Elon Musk but somehow most of the posts showing up on my 'For You' are against right-wing extremists, like I don't even follow, like or retweet any political tweets that should make the algorithm swing that way (and gosh I WISH they could've done the same for my favourite artist, I like him and somehow they only show tweets talking shit about him, like Elon DO BETTER PLZ?) Anyways, my point is, even on a platform that is so blatantly right-wing, I'm still able to see that many tweets (with actual proofs, logical arguments etc.) criticise Trump, warn about Trump and his ppl, etc. that reach huge amount of engagement on Twitter, I was kinda under the impression that whatever right-wing propaganda on Twitter wasn't really working that well.

Trump is just... idk after those 4 years of bad-mouthing everything everywhere, fumbling Covid terribly, leaving White House with a coup, getting into another election running his mouth about dog eating cat eating, 'i'mma do this to women don't matter if like it or not', 'criminals coming from prisons and insane asylums', convicted felony, convicted rapist, proposal to get rid of Dep of Education, performing oral thingy with the mic on stage (??????), etc. Evidences of him doing stupid shit, saying stupid shit are like everywhere, and most things he said can be easily proven a lie by a simple google search. People may be disappointed at the Dems and hate the establishment, but how a man like Trump can be a better choice, under any circumstance, seems... baffling. Lots of ppl seem to choose him for the economy, which actually can be debunked by looking at other countries after Covid and Russia-Ukraine; inflation was a common issue, and the stats showed it's already gone down considerably at the time of the election. To me it just seems very easy to figure out all the arguments Trump used are pretty bullshit: no pro free speech person will bash and threaten to harm people who don't talk nicely about him, no 'America-first' person will ever spread lies and lead a coup, and never trust a multi-billionnaire when he says he's all for the working class.

I'm not saying the US mainstream media is not to blame, or the Dems is not to blame. They should've done a better job, but at the same time, the US is one of the countries where it's easier to see through propaganda. Freedom to access information and opinions from a wide range of perspectives with little restriction is a privilege some other countries don't even have.

I'm not from the US, I only made this comment based on what I've seen, and I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one outside of America who experienced this bewilderment. But if I've missed something, I'm willing to learn.

Gotta admit the headline is a banger.

[fanzou]

Here's an idea? The OP guys. Sanji, Zoro, Law, (separately, of course) with a reader who has a crush on them, and they KNOW IT. (But nobody else does) So he just messes with her and gets her to blush, as his was of saying that he likes her too.🤭

Big, Fat, Crush

✗ Pairing(s): Zoro Roronoa x Fem!Reader, Sanji Vinsmoke x Fem!Reader, Law Trafalgar x Fem!Reader

✗ Summary: What do they do knowing you have a crush on them?

✗ CW: Reader is wearing a dress in Zoro's first half, Teasing... and it's RUTHLESS, Law makes reader cry but he makes up for it, it gets a little suggestive at the of Sanji's part [Let me know if I missed any]

✗ Total WC: Zoro’s Ver. (1.8K), Law’s Ver. (2.3K), Sanji’s Ver. (1.3K)

✗ A/N: Wow. If you couldn't tell I loved writing this. I didn't intend for it to get so long but here it is! Enjoy love.

ZORO RORONOA

“You want me to get you any more sake, Zoro?”

“Yeah sure, thanks.”

The bar is crowded, but not so much that it was unbearable. You and Zoro found yourselves at the little table across from each other in the very back of the room catching up and debriefing about today’s events. But the day wasn’t so very eventful, otherwise he’d probably be drunk by this point to alleviate and level himself. He liked to really enjoy the end of his day like this. It was a good day.

You were tipsy, but he on the other hand, always held his alcohol well.

“What do you wanna do tomorrow before we leave the island?” You ask him, he liked the silence between you two, even in a rowdy bar, but he didn’t hate when you talked to him either. You asked all the right questions, you weren’t obnoxiously dumb like the rest of the crew, even when you were under the influence.

“Not too sure yet. I didn’t get the time to check out what they had with your excessive clothes shopping.” He says so nonchalantly, taking a sip of the drink you got him.

You pout with your brows furrowed, cute, “I did not buy that many clothes!”

“It probably felt that way ‘cause I was carryin’ the bags all damn day.” He grinned at you, a mischievous one.

You roll your eyes at him, but then giggle into your own drink, “You’re insufferable.”

He doesn’t miss the way you blush at his harmless teasing.

He never does.

-

So…

You end up a little more drunk than anticipated.

And you can’t for the life of you remember what you did last night. Your head was pounding, like, real life pounding through your skull almost like it was angry for you being so reckless just a few hours ago.

But to your relief, your back on the ship, clothes from last night still on and somewhat in tact— a little wrinkled, and your dress was ridden up a bit more than you were comfortable with. You pull it down immediately in embarrassment. Hopefully Zoro didn’t see that. Anyway, you scope out the girl’s quarters to see that Nami and Robin weren’t anywhere to be seen, and there was none of the usual liveliness in the ship that you knew and loved, no running footsteps, bangs, booms, nothing. Assuming that the green-haired man probably took you back to the ship in your drunken state and took his own personal stroll into the small town at the island, you relaxed.

But you were probably gonna get an earful from the crew since Zoro had a tendency to get lost.

Your shame settles in, and you mentally curse at yourself for being so reckless when the team counted on you for being the more careful one of the two. But something about his energy was so comforting, and you felt so safe around him. The fact that he safely took you back to the ship was living proof of that and you got a little flustered at the thought.

How did he carry you back? Bridal? On top his shoulder? Were you faced forwards or back? Maybe not even carried at all, just arm slung around his shoulder— Whatever the case, the thought of the close proximity made you nervous to think about.

To your astonishment you hear a knock on the door to the shared room. “Come in!” You say, your head immediately punishing you for it.

To your surprise, Zoro opens the door, and comes in. He closes the door before he faces you. “You feelin’ alright? You kinda got a little ahead of yourself.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I have the worst head ache of all time.” Your head is in your hands and your hair looks ten times more disheveled than it did when you woke up. You fight the feeling of discomfort and look up at him through messy stands of hair, “What, you’re not going back to enjoy your time with out me? I wouldn’t be so offended.”

He thinks to himself for a moment,

“I was waiting for you to get up.” His arms are crossed onto his chest now. His words are so effortless when he makes your heart jump.

“Zoro, it’s gonna take me a long time to get ready, how ‘bout you just go on ahead?”

You push away the hair covering your face to get a good look at his; his expression is borderline unreadable. It looks foreign on him.

It was all-knowing, it was up to no good. And you can only imagine what that meant.

“I’ll wait.”

-

So, Zoro waited the hour and a half for you to get ready, even though it meant that most of the day was already wasted. He insisted on taking you with him to the town you guys went to only yesterday, stating that it was simply because the crew wouldn’t let him hear the end of it had you both separated. It’s funny though, because you could swear that he was moving a bit differently than he was just yesterday. Whether good or bad, it was off-putting nonetheless. You’ve never seen him act this way.

After dabbling in his fair share of store-visiting to try to tie with yours (Spoiler: he did not.), it was already sunset, and he wanted to go to the bar, but you insisted that you didn’t want a repeat of last night. In his surprising obedience, he listened. You did, however, both meet in the middle for a late night food-grab and settled on a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant. You and Zoro quickly ordered and waited for the delicious meals that you knew you both were going to absolutely demolish.

You finally relaxed your form into the seat, taking advantage of the comfort you felt after walking around all day. You hardly exchanged a few words since you got into the restaurant, presumably because of how much time you spent together all day, so it was a surprise when Zoro opened his mouth to finally speak.

“Y’know, you talk a lot when you’re drunk.”

You halt in your comfort, God, you thought he was gonna forget about this already. Zoro teased you a lot but since you got on this island, it’s easily become relentless. And whatever your shenanigans were about last night were ground for it now.

In an effort to move away from the topic, “Hmm… yeah, don’t we all? Amirite? I’ve heard you say some crazy stuff when you were black-out drunk!” You laughed, lightly slapping the table to emphasize how “funny” it was. He seemed unfazed though, if anything, a little more confident in the words he would utter. His head was resting on his on the palm of his hand now, and that same smirk from earlier returned.

“Guessing none of them were love declarations, huh?”

Time stopped, save for your heart dropping down to your asshole.

Your eyes were wide, and you were praying to God that you misinterpreted the insinuation of what he just said.

“W-What do you mean?” He seemed so fascinated by the situation unraveling between the two of you, his grin never faltering. It was shocking, Zoro never really talked this much about nonsense, if you could call it that.

He chuckles at your shock almost sadistically, “You tried kissing my face the entire night and kept telling me how handsome I was, and how much you lo—”

“STOP!” Your hand not so subtly smacks his mouth shut, and the staff gives you both a weird look.

Great, now I’m making it everyone’s business!

You slowly remove your hand and try to avert your gaze elsewhere, while still fending for yourself. “I’m j-just a loving drunk... I-I guess…” The embarrassment is getting to be too much now, and whatever what you say at this point is just going to look like a lie, a big fat lie. And you wanna crawl into the nearest hole and die there. How can you even face the crew anymore? How can you look at him in the eye? Where’s the nearest exit so you can just run far, far away from him?! It seems like you’re plotting for the rest of how your life is gonna be from this point on, until he puts an end to your thoughts.

“C’mon woman. Get real. Why don’t you just face up to it? I see the way you look at me all the time. Drunk or not.” Zoro is leaned all the way back in his chair when you look up, his arms are crossed just how they were this morning. And you just want to melt into your chair at this point. Get away from anything and every thing that exists. Especially Zoro, if it wasn’t obvious. “God, you're naive, naive as hell.”

Embarrassment subsided for a moment, you sit there with your brows furrowed, now trying to piece together his new and probably much more embarrassing revelation. “…What? Why do you say that?”

He scoffs at you, “Y’Really gonna make me say it?”

What?

Zoro was never the articulate type and you respected that, but if there was an instance where you really hated his lack of speech; It was now.

For a split second, he looks a little conflicted on what he was going to say next. Like he was fighting the next words to come out of his mouth, his arms twitch a bit and he lets out a little sigh, shaking his head in what looks like defeat. But before you can say anymore; he gets out of his comfortable position, leans toward you and over the small table, grabs your shirt and…

Kisses you.

It was short, but Zoro thought he was going to die inside trying to build up the courage to say I love you instead. And this, this was so much better.

He would’ve mistook you for a tomato across from him when you sit back from his attack on your lips. He’s a little flustered himself, he does well to mask it, but it was worth your reaction. And since it was late at night the restaurant was almost dead at that point, with you both once again, sitting in the very back. So he wasn’t too crazy about who was watching.

“I’m… I… Um…” you’re trying so hard to get your words together. What the hell just happened. “I…”

Before you can say anything, you eat your words again. The server comes with your long anticipated dinner. He chooses to disregard the absolute mess you look, and some of your lipstick on Zoro’s mouth— and puts your food down onto the table.

“Enjoy you two lovebirds! My, what a beautiful couple you both make!”

LAW TRAFALGAR

The Polar Tang was full of energy today. In the dining hall, the crew sat down and talked the night away.

Penguin and Shachi were laughing it up and finding comfort in their drinks, you and Ikkaku talked about personal affairs over the amazing meal you shared, then Bepo joined in and you three all got a little too into some dumb gossip amongst another pair in the crew.

Safe to say everyone was having the night of their life. Something the Heart Pirates couldn’t do a lot.

All except your captain.

Always buried in his books and studies, Law claims that he wish he could have time to spend with you all, blasé blasé bla, but there was always an excuse that was thrown in your faces. Always. You respected his time and effort, it was something that not a lot of people could do.

So that’s why after your conversation with your friends was drawn to an end and they either resorted to drinking with the rest of the crew or just enjoying more talk, you decided to slip away for a moment. You didn’t know what possessed you to do this, (you did, you just wanted an excuse) but you fix up another plate and swiftly make your way towards your captains room. The food was delicious so, why not? What’s the harm?

The closer you got to his door is the more an anxiety rose in your chest, and your hands were getting a little shaky. There was nothing to be nervous about!

Just maybe seeing his handsome face focused so strongly on a certain text, the way his rough, calloused hand grips the pen so gently, or your favorite part— his parted and unbuttoned shirt, where you can see a window of his chest, not a lot but just enough to leave some imagination to how the rest of his tattooed body might look... And you stop yourself for a second, physically and mentally.

I’m being such a pervert right now.

You resume your slow and anything but steady walk to his quarters and you finally meet face to face with the door.

You pull your first up to knock after taking a very deep breath, but before your skin could touch the surface his voice is already urging you to step inside. And so you obey.

Once inside you immediately start to scan the sight before you, and it wasn’t much different from the one you had in your imagination. Of course this meant that you were a bit flustered coming to him, but you manage, “‘Just wanted to drop off some food for you, in case you couldn’t join us tonight.” You say with a little softness in your tone.

“Thank you. You can put it down on my desk.”

And you obey, again. Walking up to his desk full of papers and books/ You realize that it was a little messy and not clean enough to set the plate just anywhere, and his hands scramble through the paper to find a place for you to set the plate down until you finally do. Then, another thought emerges from your fantasy world.

“Do you need help organizing your desk, cap? I have some time and I don’t really feel like going to sleep anyways.”

He smiles softly at you and calls your name in a way that you wish you could hear over and over and over again, and he thanks you once more, “You’ve done enough for me tonight. I appreciate it.” You hide your disappointment in his words, but nod and make your way to the door anyway.

You exchanged your good night’s and make your way to your room. And when you fall back on your bed, you take your pillow and scream into it like a crazed schoolgirl in love.

-

The next morning comes, and you can guarantee that the crew has already started on breakfast. You rub your eyes and start to get cleaned up and fetch a new pair of clothes for the day.

Once you’re all freshen up, you make your way to the dining hall, surprised to hear no ruffling and noise. Maybe everyone was suffering the consequences of last nights drinking challenges, you thought. But even so, it wouldn’t be this quiet.

Your met with Law’s figure in the dining hall and he’s making tea for himself. He notices you, “You’re up really early.”

“Did you even get a wink of sleep?” You say in concern.

He’s silent for a few seconds, and he makes his way to the table to enjoy his freshly brewed drink. “I couldn’t.” Or more like he wouldn't.

You sigh, yup, that was your captain. You thought for a second, thinking about what you could do in order for him to feel better about his own consequences from a lack of sleep. But you know he would just decline most of your suggestions. Instead, you plop yourself in the seat across from him. You both sit in a comfortable silence while you waited for your coffee to be made, and you take a second to scan his tired features.

He does well to hide it in his mannerism, but his face betrays him. You can tell he's deathly tired, and if he let's his eyes close for more than a second you're sure he'd plop right onto the table.

“Take a picture, maybe it’ll last longer.”

You blink, and you blink again. ���O-Oh, sorry…” he’s not offended, if anything his face is smug. You’re quick to defend yourself with a little scoff, “Can’t a woman be worried for her captain? You don’t look the best anyway.” You quickly cover your mouth, seriously, how dumb did you have to be?

But he only laughs at your remark, he shakes his head and his smug expression does not leave his face. “It’s a little hard to not point out when you do it all the time.”

“I do not!”

“Do too.”

“I don’t!”

“Don’t what?” Shachi comes into the room completely oblivious to what you guys were bickering childishly about. He’s rubbing his eyes, “Why are you both up so early? Especially you,” he points at you, “You drank a lot.”

You roll your eyes, you hardly drank. And now you were a little embarrassed at his public revelation, (though it was a secret to nobody but Law,) and your face grows a little red.

The rest of the crew gets up one by one and soon enough breakfast is served. You barely pick up your head anymore out of shame of your earlier dispute, if you could even call it that, with your captain. Bepo is talking about something he encountered a while back while on an adventure with Law, usually you’d be invested, but you were far too in your zone.

And so you get up and make your way to your room, the gloominess practically radiating off of you. Your absence is barely noticed due to the focus everyone had on Bepo’s story.

Law notices, though.

He excuses himself and Bepo gets a little upset, but he understands and respects his captain, so he resumes his dramatic story that keeps everyone on the edge of their seat. You, on the other hand, were now face flat on your pillow mumbling self-deprecating comments to yourself after the terrible situation you were just in.

That was so embarrassing. My captain hates me. It’s so obvious. Why do I do this to myself. Why did I think that was okay. I’m going to escape. (You were under water) This is dumb. I’m du—

*Knock Knock*

You lift your head up even though you didn’t want to, “No.” is all you could manage.

“It’s your captain.”

As much as you wanted to tell him to piss off and let yourself drown in the shame you felt, you couldn’t. Because at the end of the day, it was as your captain proclaimed, though you wanted it to be much more, there was nothing you could do. Nothing, especially after today's consequences.

After a bit of hesitance and a lot of hurt in your voice, you tell him, “You can come inside.”

He cracks the door open a smidge to further observe your well-kept room and there you were, lying on your stomach with your arms crossed, face laying against them and your eyes away from his. It wasn’t the most appropriate sight for your captain to walk in on, but you two were close enough for him to get comfortable enough to let the door open and let himself all the way into your room.

He walks towards you and pulls a chair over, turns it around and manspreads against it to take his seat-- and you really wanted to take in the sight completely, but even that wasn’t enough to get your mood back up and running.

“You left.”

“Why do you care?” You turn your head the opposite way facing the wall beside you. Law doesn’t say anything for quite some time and you can almost bet on your tears slipping soon. He was making this so much more worse than it had to be.

He calls your name, and you just wanna melt into the soft fabric beneath you. “Look at me.”

You disobey.

After your reluctance to his order, he draws out a sigh. You always were the most stubborn of the crew. So with this, he thinks long and hard on his next words or actions, and finally lands on one possible outcome.

“You leave me no choice.”

“Wha— Law!” He turns you around by your waist and forces you up with just one hand. Then, before you know it, your body is slung across his broad shoulder while he finds his bicep tight around your thighs. You were facing backwards while he carried you. “Now you’re calling me by name, no captain anymore?" he laughs, "I think I’ve gone too soft on you.”

“What are you doing!?” You say, trying to get out of his grasp, but even with all of your strength, he was no match for you. “Someone will see!”

“No they won’t. I’m taking you to my room.” He opens the door in one swift motion and kicks it in another.

“And you’re not explaining why!” You hit his back in defiance. You were halfway through the corridor to meet his room already, so you just give up.

He takes no time in entering his room, finally putting you down and ordering you to sit on a spare seat in the grand environment. You were insanely nervous at this point, taken aback by his sudden action and the intimacy of it all. He’s peering down at you with a seriousness in his gaze that makes you put your head down in the worst shame you’ve felt since you’ve woken up.

You always thought that maybe, you might have had a chance with him one day. All that was thrown out the window now.

And it's time to swallow your pride. You take a deep breath, and build a whole lot of courage, and:

“I’m sorry, for saying that about you in the dining hall. And getting smart with you. And calling you by your first na—”

“You’re really stubborn, did you know that?”

And there it is, you feel the tears build up once again, and it hurts. Because the firmness in his voice is always the same. So demanding and... so difficult for you.

“And I don’t know why I’m attracted to you. I don’t understand why I tolerate the things you do.”

You start crying now, because you don’t know what else to do. You don’t know the sincerity of his words, and you hold yourself in the chair that you sat on, trying your best to look away from him.

He walks towards you and gets on his knees in front of you, It was a little bit of a blow to his own pride, and it wasn’t something he would do for anyone else at all. But you were different. You’re still crying and you weakly try pushing him away and looking to the side and the new guilt starts to form itself inside of him, but he insists that he stays where he is. He’s whispers an I’m sorry before his hands find solace on your jaw while both of his thumbs wipe your tears away. You look down at him with the most beautiful eyes he’s seen, your gaze softens at him and your crying calms down a little bit seeing that he wasn't so serious anymore, but instead his expression was a little desperate.

-- He’s still got a lot to make up for, and he knows now was not the time to press you on anything else— there was nothing to press anyways. You were perfect, in every aspect of the word. He just enjoyed the idea of teasing you, not anyone else, but he took it too far.

When he was sure that you were more comfortable in his arms, he pulled you down and pushed the chair away. He takes you in his embrace and whispers his apologies into your ear so genuinely.

“This wasn’t the way I thought this would go.” He lets the thousandth sigh out of his mouth today. You look into his eyes with a questioning expression, “I mean that, I fucked it up.”

It was your turn to feel guilty again, but you were tired of words.

You just take his face in your hands just as he did not so long ago, and you both look at each other for a moment. His eyes look to your lips for a second, and if you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought he was just as eager as you, maybe he was. His lips inch towards yours and they take no time in meeting.

It’s slow, soft, sensual. And it takes a while for your mouths to part. When they do, all you can do is stare at each other.

You finally breathe, “Okay,” you face turns to the side to escape his beautiful one.

“Maybe all of that was pretty worth it.”

SANJI VINSMOKE

You’ve been avoiding Sanji all week.

And he can’t decide if he should talk to you about it or not, he’s leaning more towards the latter, just because he’s too into the nervousness that suddenly appears on your face when you’re in close proximity. Then; you’re scrambling to the nearest door and half-assing an excuse about where you need to be or what you need to do.

He personally loves when it’s breakfast, lunch, or dinner and he gets to not only cook your favorite meals and you can’t escape him, otherwise the crew would immediately worry for your absence. He also enjoys how embarrassed you get when you can feel him staring at you. Alas, he can’t stand the inability to talk to you and be in your unwanted presence anymore, he needed to make his move on you quick.

You see, earlier this week a battle occurred between you, Sanji, and an enemy that threatened the Thousand Sunny.

You and Sanji had both agreed to guard the ship while the rest of the crew had prepared their own duties on the foreign land, he insisted that there would be no good food supply and there was already enough stocked up from the last. It was a no-good devil fruit user, who wielded the ability to make its opponent confess a super big secret, to then throw them off completely, and defeat them. It was like a weak spot-- psychological warfare more so. And… he got you.

Can you guess what your secret was?

For certain, the devil fruit did its magic. And Sanji was surely taken aback, but adamant on defending the ship and more importantly, you, he did his part and tried with all his might to fight the bad guy off and made a mental note to immediately come find you afterwards.

You were close to passing out from shock after the bewildering confession, but when you came to, the blonde sat right beside you in a shit-eating grin, “So… you’re crushin’ on me, princess?” And you wanted to pass out again, but instead you just run for the ship and locking yourself in your room, ignoring his pleas to come back and talk about it.

Ever since that day, the atmosphere between you two had been a bit awkward. Conversations weren't as light and smooth, you tried finishing your food as fast as possible and managing a quick thank you before making a bee line to the girls room, and most importantly— everyone took notice of how distant you got from Sanji.

Usopp fell victim to the awkward encounters more often than the rest, and it was safe to say they were getting on his last nerve now. "Whatever you did, you should apologize, man!" He pats his back as a sign of encouragement. And for a second it almost felt like you and him were a married couple having problems, it brought a smile to his face.

Not to worry, he had a plan.

-

You joined Robin in a comfortable silence below the deck, praying to the heavens you wouldn’t hear from the blonde cook while the sun set so beautifully. Your original ploy was to just act like it never happened, but anytime you saw him it was like re-imagining the entire scenario over and over again.

Your head is hanging off the chair while you doze off and Robin is reading her book— appreciating your silence, the weather was just a little windy and the sky had a nice orange and red gradient to it. The waves were crashing against the boat but it wasn’t overbearing, it was just fine.

You asked Robin to read her book out loud, even though you weren’t following the storyline, you found comfort in her melodic voice and how softly she read it and sure enough she would be lulling you to sleep soon.

But before you could finally reach sleep like you intended, there’s a presence you can sense, and Robin puts her beautiful voice to a halt. You don’t want to open your eyes but it almost seems like you have to.

And you immediately regretted it.

Above you was Sanji. “Hi.”

“Sanji!” He moves a little back from you, and you straighten your posture, wide awake. “I was just leaving actually, I have to clean the girls room! I lost a bet a while back. So… I’m gonna go do that.”

“I don’t think that bet ever happened but, I’m not entirely opposed to you doing that for us.” Robin says smugly. You loved her but the betrayal on your face spoke volumes in that moment.

You’re already defeated and you’re trying to muster up another shitty excuse, “We can’t delay this anymore than we have.” He takes your hand and you can only burn eyes at the skinship. You’re lightheaded again, just like that day you confessed.

And he drags you into the kitchen with him before you can defy him a hundred times over, he locks the door to slow down your escape, and if anyone came in on the two of you.

He finally turns around to look at you with the most frustrated expression littered all over his face.

“Why are you avoiding me?” He asks you in desperation, and you kinda wanted to slap him out of your own mixed emotions, because it was pretty obvious as to why. He catches on shortly after, “Okay, scratch that. Why is it necessarily a bad thing that you have feelings for me?”

“Please Sanji, let’s just forget about i—”

“How do I forget something like that? Why are we holding this off? Are we just never gonna talk about it?” You sense some repressed anger boiling up inside of him, and to tell the truth you’ve never seen him speak to any woman like this, so raw and nothing to hold back. “Listen, the cat’s out the bag, right? What’s the point in hiding it if we both feel this way about each other?”

…

…

…

“You… felt the same way… and you’re just now telling me this?” You walk towards him, he looks away in shame.

“It’s not about how you feel towards me, I’m just not worthy of you. I don’t deserve you.” You push him out of sheer frustration, and he just lets you.

Sanji assumes you’ll just use him as your personal punching bag at this point with the amount of self-deprecating thoughts he’s already throwing at himself in his head, but all of them were replaced once you took him by the shoulders and pulled him into a powerful kiss. He was in shock, but he quickly melted into it, grabbing you by both sides of your face, and you pull away.

“All you did was tease me and taunt me and put me over the edge these past few days, for what? Just to reveal that you wanted me too?” You scoff, but your lips betray you. You lean back into the kiss and it’s so much more passionate than before. His hands find comfort in your hips.

After the kiss got a little too passionate, and Sanji already making his move on your neck, you all but gave into him. So willingly.

“You locked the door, right?” You ask.

He grins into the quick kiss, excited by your insinuation, “Yeah.”

meanwhile, on the deck

Chopper quickly becomes your replacement for Robin, although not as quiet, she does equally enjoy her time with you both.

Choppers stomach gives him away, “Robin, I’m hungry. Do you know if Sanji’s making dinner soon?”

Robin smirks, and pats Chopper on the head.

“He’s busy with something right now, I think it would be best if we didn’t bother him, either.”

[organic-bloodbath]

Could you do a Dae ho fic? Maybe the reader being stuck with thanos' group and isn't treated with much respect (either treated as weak or just eye candy) but dae ho comes in and helps her + shows her care and respect. Thank you <3

Safe with me

Dae-ho x Reader

Summary: As above.

A/N: I want to marry this man right NOW. I'm begging on my knees.

☆☆☆

You had never felt like you belonged anywhere. You had barely any friends and for the few friends you did have, you were only the spare friend.

You knew that you were beautiful. Guys had been flirting with you dozens of times but you knew they only wanted to get into your pants. They only cared about your looks and wouldn't care to get to know you for who you really were. You had gotten used to the fact that nobody truly wanted you, they only wanted to use you for a while and then toss aside.

It was all the same now here, in this game. You always had a hard time to approach new people, complete strangers to you, and waited for someone to speak to you, to take you in. Nobody did on the first day.

When the second game started, the players needed to form a group of five. You were starting to panic. Most of the players already had atleast one partner who they could start finding more players with.

You had nobody. What if you were left alone when everyone had formed their groups and you'd end up in the weakest one who nobody else wanted to have either?

"Señorita, excuse me," a man said behind you, startling you from your thoughts. "Want to join our group?"

Your heart started hammering harder against your chest, a new sprinkle of hope rising. You weren't chosen the last this time after all.

The man speaking had purple hair and was supposedly the 'famous rapper' Thanos who many players had been thirsting over before the first game. Personally, you didn't get the hype. The man next to him was player 124, you didn't know his name, but you could see him looking at you from head to toe, hunger in his eyes and a smirk spreading on his lips.

"Yeah, you'd make a great addition to our team," player 124 said and winked, creeping you out instantly.

What choice did you have anyway? If the game was about strength, atleast you wouldn't have to worry about it as much because you had men in your group.

"Sure, i'll join you," you agreed and followed them.

Before the game started, all the players' legs were linked to each other with chains and you were squeezed between Thanos and player 124, who had introduced himself as Nam-gyu. You felt uncomfortable having both men around you, especially having their arms around your waist. You could tell that it was all intentional and they could have easily kept their hands higher and not so low.

When it was your turn to play, you were so nervous that you failed your attempt three times and was becoming frustrated and soon panicking, the time seemed to be running down faster the more times you failed.

"Focus, sweetheart," Thanos breathed right into your ear. "You can do it."

"Don't you dare to make us die today," Nam-gyu spat which was the complete opposite of helpful. Thanos gave him a look to shut it and let you concentrate but you didn't notice it.

Finally, you succeeded and your group eventually ended up passing the challenge and was let to live for one more day.

☆☆☆

It was time to vote and you gathered into the crowd to wait for your turn like everyone else.

"And you're going to press 'O' now, right?" Nam-Gyu asked. "Because if you don't, there will be consequences."

You were relieved when it was his turn to vote. He left you alone with Thanos, he wasn't much better option, but atleast now there was only one of them eyeing you down. There was still many players before it would be your turn. You took a deep breath in and tried to calm your nerves down.

"Relax," Thanos said and put his arm around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. Almost too tightly. "As long as you keep your blue patch," he pressed the patch with his tattooed finger, a little too deep into your breast, "you have nothing to worry about. Okay, señorita?"

"Yeah, of course," you mumbled and tried to avoid eye contact with him, but he put his free hand on your cheek, making you to look at him in the eyes.

"You're not gonna betray us, you hear me?" Thanos said with a low and threatening voice.

"I'll press 'O'," you promised, trying to sound convincing.

"Good girl," Thanos said and smiled. He turned away from you to look at the scores, the blue was winning but the red wasn't far behind, but didn't let go of you, his hand still gripping your waist a little too low.

When his number was announced, he immediately rushed to the front and didn't hesitate even a second to press the blue button.

"You okay?" a man next to you asked. You turned your head to look at him and saw his concerned look. You had no idea if he had stood there the entire time or just appeared there a second ago.

"Yeah, i'm fine," you mumbled but you knew you didn't sound very convincing.

"I'm going to press 'X'," he admitted.

You furrowed your brows, looking at the blue 'O' on his jacket. "You're going to change your vote?"

"Yep, i'm done with this place and i'd rather go home, no matter how much money i would be able to earn here if i stayed," he explained. "It's not worth putting everyone else's lives in danger."

A small smile found its way on your face but it was gone too soon that he would have noticed.

"If you change your vote too, you're welcome to join my team over there," he said and smiled. "I've seen you with those guys and i don't like them, not one bit."

You did want to get out of there as soon as possible, but Nam-gyu's threats were still lingering hot in your ear.

"I'll think about it," you said quietly.

He would welcome you to his group? You had seen him with a few guys, all older than him, and one small girl who seemed to be pregnant, atleast by the looks of it. Oh, how much you wished to have another girl by your side.

Player 390.

It was now your turn and you walk to the front to stand in front of the two large buttons. In your mind, instead of red X and blue O, you saw two faces instead - player 388 and player 124.

You took a deep, shaky breath in, and pressed the red button. The pink guard offered you a red 'X' patch to attach on your jacket to replace the blue one.

You walked to the red side where all the other people wanting to go home were. You glanced at Thanos and Nam-gyu who were looking at you with a cold stare. You wouldn't feel safe tonight if you wanted to fall asleep. You wouldn't doubt a moment that they wouldn't do anything to you in your sleep.

You found the same guy who had talked with you just a moment before, trusting him to take you in with open arms. He smiled and put his hand on your shoulder, leading you to his friends, the ones who had already voted.

"My name is Dae-ho," the man introduced himself.

"I'm Gi-hun and this is Young-il," an older guy said. You had heard of him being here for the second time and how he had won all his games a few years ago. It was possible to eventually get back home.

"Hi, i'm Y/N," you said. "Thank you for letting me join you."

"Of course," Gi-hun said and smiled.

That night, you weren't able to sleep and only feared that one of your former group members were going to come after you because you had voted to leave and changed sides, even though the 'O' was a clear winner and would have won anyway, no matter which color you pressed. Now there was no going back to them even if you wanted to – and you didn't.

You sat up and hugged your legs, bringing them close to you and tried to comfort yourself when there was nobody else to do that.

"Not able to sleep, hm?" a whisper came behind you and someone tapped your shoulder to get your attention. You hadn't heard anyone approaching your bed and was terrified to turn around and look at this person. You knew it was Nam-gyu.

"Not really," you said, trying to keep your cool and not seem weak.

"You did a big mistake for voting 'X'. I told you there would be consequences."

He grabbed your face with his hand, pressing on your cheeks so hard it started to hurt.

"Oi, leave her alone," another voice came nearby.

"Or what?" Nam-gyu scoffed. "You'll fight me over this bitch?"

"If i have to, i will," Dae-ho challenged Nam-gyu and stood now right in front of him. Nam-gyu had let go off you. "I'd prefer we'd do it elsewhere though, i wouldn't want to wake up all the people here and have guards shoot us both."

Nam-gyu narrowed his eyes and looked for any signs of bluffing on Dae-ho's face, not finding any. He only stood there like a stone statue, the expression on his face not faltering for even a second.

"Whatever, keep that bitch for yourself. She's not worth it," Nam-gyu mumbled and left, intentionally pushing Dae-ho's shoulder with his when he walked by.

Dae-ho ignored it with a mere roll of his eyes until he looked at you.

"You okay?" he said and cupped your face with his hand, brushing your cheek with his finger on the spot where Nam-gyu's fingers had just been, but Dae-ho's touch felt like a feather.

You only nodded your head.

"Good. You don't have to worry about them anymore, you deserve to be respected and treated like a woman is supposed to be treated," Dae-ho said and his words made your stomach to be filled with butterflies.

Men had never treated you very well, you were used to getting treated poorly, and now having someone show you some respect felt strange. Almost too good to be true. You would have thought you were dreaming if it weren't for his touch on your cheek.

"Try to get some sleep," he said and was about to get up, until he sat down again. "Do you want me to stay?"

You raised your eyebrows, not expecting to hear that. Did he want to have a go with you after all? Now?

"I mean, i can sleep on the floor," he hurried to say. "If it would make you feel safer and sleep better. I don't mind to take the floor."

"Would you really do that for me?"

"Of course. I'll go grab my pillow, be back in a second."

☆☆☆

You slept well all the way to the morning when they woke you up to a new day. You would have gladly slept an hour or two more but you forced yourself to get up. You looked over your bed and saw Dae-ho hugging his pillow on the floor, opening his eyes.

How much sleep did he really get? You felt bad for him but you were thankful that he stayed with you.

"Good morning," Dae-ho said with a tired smile.

"Morning," you replied with a yawn.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked.

"I did, yes," you answered. "Thank you, Dae-ho. I hope it wasn't too uncomfortable for you."

"Oh, it's all fine," he said, standing up, stretching his back and legs a little bit. "I've slept in worse places. Now, let's start to get ready for the next game."

☆☆☆

During the Mingle game, you were felt much safer with Dae-ho to protect you than what you would have felt with Nam-gyu. You were sure that if they had to kick someone out, it would have definitely been you.

Dae-ho made sure to hold your hand every round so you wouldn't accidentally get lost and separated from him, seeing how brutally people were pulling and pushing each other to get into rooms first with enough people.

When it came down to two people, Dae-ho immediately ran with you to a free room and when you were inside, he leaned on the door so nobody would come there and kick you out and claim the room for themselves.

When the time ran out and the door was locked, Dae-ho fell down to sit on the floor, his back sliding agains the door until he hit the ground. He was panting loudly, as were you too.

"Tell me that was the last round," you breathed loudly and leaned your head on the wall.

"It must be," he wished.

"I hope the rest of our group found a partner too," you said, worried that some of them were left alone and were shot.

"I'm sure they're fine," Dae-ho said and came to sit next to you, putting his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him.

"What if they didn't find a room? There wasn't room for everyone," you pointed out.

"We'll see them alive on the other side, okay?" Dae-ho assured you, his hand on your cheek, making you to look at him. You hesitantly nodded, taking his word for it. "Right now, let's just be relieved that we found a room too."

"I know, i know," you said and leaned your head on Dae-ho's shoulder, not even thinking about how the act made Dae-ho's heart skip a beat. You just found his presence around you comforting and how safe you felt with him.

"You know, i saw you before the second game started and we were supposed to form groups," he said. "We needed to find more person into ours and i saw you standing in the middle of the room alone."

You furrowed your eyebrows, pulling your head back now to look at him.

"I was about to walk towards you, but those other guys managed to get to you first," he explained.

"Oh," you let out a breath. Dae-ho was quiet for a moment and you didn't know what to say to that.

"I'm sorry i didn't get to you sooner," he apologized. "I hated to see how they treated you."

"It's okay, i'm used to it," you mumbled and gave him a sad smile. He furrowed his eyebrows and lifted your chin with his fingers. His heart broke for your words.

"Listen. No woman should be used to that," Dae-ho said seriously. "Don't ever let a guy treat you like that, okay?"

You looked at him for a moment until nodded, a little unconvinced but the look in his eyes was so sincere it made you feel much calmer than before.

"Thank you, Dae-ho," you said with a shy smile. "You're a really great man."

Then, the doors were unlocked and you were allowed to leave.

Walking out and scanning the area to see who had survived the game, you let out a breath of relief, seeing Gi-hun and the rest of them safe.

You had all survived through one more game.

☆☆☆

"You know, i think Dae-ho really likes you," Jun-hee said to you quietly when you were in the bathroom.

"Oh, he's just being nice to me," you chuckled nervously and turned off the faucet, starting to dry your hands with paper towels.

"Nice?" she chuckled. "If we get out of here alive, he's definitely going to ask you for a date. He looks at you like a lost puppy."

You felt your cheeks warming up and tried to fight the smile appearing on your lips.

"For real?" you asked and felt butterflies in your stomach.

"For real."

☆☆☆

You were sitting with Jun-Hee and chatting together, laughing about something she said to you. You covered your mouth with your hand. Dae-ho wished you would have kept your hand on your lap, so he would have seen your beautiful smile.

He would have wanted to ask you if you'd go out with him when this would all be over, but he was afraid he was moving too fast and scare you away. You had seemed to be uncomfortable around men, even though you had relaxed in his arms during the Mingle game, when it was just the two of us, and let him hold your hand the entire time you were standing on the carousel.

He missed your touch and wanted to take you into his arms again, but he had to respect your space and get closer to you when you seemed comfortable enough around him.

You having fun and looking happy made Dae-ho smile. Suddenly, you looked towards him, and Dae-ho hadn't even realized that he had kept staring at you for such a long time. He quickly turned his head away to look at Gi-hun, who wasn't sitting far from him, starting a short conversation to seem busy.

"Hello," you said, startling Dae-ho. You walked so quietly that he hadn't heard you arriving near him. You sat right next to him.

"Hello," he greeted.

"We'll have to go sleep again soon," you said. Dae-ho hadn't even realised there was only 10 minutes until the lights were going down.

"Oh, it's that late huh," Dae-ho said.

"I don't want to be weird, but..."

"Yes?" he encouraged, when you didn't finish your sentence. You bit your lip, and Dae-ho saw your cheeks turn slightly red.

"Would you mind to sleep with me again tonight?" you asked nervously. "I get it if you don't want to, it's okay but i just-"

"Yes, of course," Dae-ho interrupted you. "I mean, if you want to and feel safer, i'd be happy to." Dae-ho's heart was beating faster and a smile spread on his face. "I'll just grab my pillow and-"

"No," you said and grabbed his wrist, looking at him in the eyes. "I meant, in the bed with me."

Dae-ho's eyes widened.

"Oh," he quietly gasped. "Sure, yeah."

You could see his cheeks turn red and a smile on his lips.

You went towards your bed and both of you laid on it, your head resting on his chest.

"Your heart is beating very fast," you pointed out and turned your head upwards to look at him. "Am i making you uncomfortable?"

"It's the opposite of uncomfortable," he reassured you and brushed his fingers through your hair.

Right then, the lights went out and you were fully clinging on Dae-ho's body, your left leg over his.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Dae-ho

[revelboo]

man dude u are an absolute GOD with how much writing you keep pumping out THANK YOU FOR FEEDING USSSSSSSSSSS

I’m just having fun

Everything Is Alright Pt 122

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Optics on the ceiling overhead, on anything but you and your two mates fussing over you, Megatron swallows a growl. That all too familiar feeling of alienation that he remembers from the mines lifting through him. Thought that he'd gotten past this. That it could no longer hurt him, but it's as bitter now as it was back then. Being right there and ignored. Not belonging. And he hates it with a passion. "You two realize this changes everything," he says to Soundwave and Starscream and the Seeker's optics immediately narrow.

• "What exactly does this change?" Starscream growls, hand cupping the back of your head when you finally lay your cheek on his chassis. “I can tend to my mate. I don’t need either of you.” And you stiffen against him. Because as much as he despises the pair of them, you’d chosen them. Wants so much to resent you for that. For forcing him into this mess. They’re not his trine. Not brothers. They’re enemies. Wings drooping slightly then flaring when Soundwave immediately tries to comfort you, he growls. “But my mate does. For some reason.”

• Fighting a smile because that’s probably as civil as Starscream can be given the circumstances, you reach back a hand and Soundwave laces his servos with your fingers. And you’re painfully aware of how messed up whatever this is between the four of you is. That none of them are exactly happy. “Can we just try to start over?” Know you’re asking a lot of them. That this is all your fault anyway. “But you’re so tired of the fighting and scheming.

• “I’m not going to suddenly forget how many times your traitorous little Seeker has stabbed me in the back,” Megatron growls, but he sounds more tired than truly angry. That alone helps Soundwave relax some. Wants to pull you away from Starscream, separate you from him so he can just focus on your emotions. Wanting to try and figure out why you’d fully bonded Megatron after shunning him. It’s what he’d been working towards, but it still hurts that you’d chosen the warlord over him. How many times had he put Megatron ahead of himself, though? Should be used to it. Doing the hard things for the greater good. Even if it hurts. Always loyal. Obedient. Not allowed to want anything for himself, but he does want you even if you don’t want him.

• “Because you’re running the cause into the ground,” Starscream snarls wings lifting and the warlord’s head turns to stare at him. And he’s never been free to speak his mind without fear of pain or retribution, but he can say whatever the pit he wants right now and he’s untouchable because they’re both fully bonded to you. It’s like a dam falling in his processor. All the frustration, hate, and anger pouring out. “Do you have any idea how many stupid decisions you make? How many actions are driven by your desire to kill Optimus, not actual strategy? But what the frag do you know about strategy anyway? A miner and a gladiator. You have so many advisors and you don’t listen to any of us, too busy acting out your little vendetta while the cause suffers. I believed in you.”

• “You only believe in power,” Megatron counters, rolling and propping himself up on an arm. And your skin prickles, not really liking being so small and between them while they argue. Feel Soundwave hook an arm around your middle and pull you to him and away from Starscream like he’s concerned too. “You lie and scheme and paint yourself as a worthy leader, but you’re a coward scrabbling for any power or control you can get your servos on.” Yeah, you don’t want to be anywhere near them if they’re about to brawl. Both tensed like they’re seconds from launching at each other and then slowly relaxing to make you realize you were holding your breath. And Megatron glances at you, vents noisily and resumes staring at the ceiling. “You’re brave with our little pet to protect you.”

Previous

Next

Slowly remembering how to do this/accidentally stabbing myself with the needle so many times. I’m much rustier at this than I thought, though 🫠 looks more like Wheeljack’s illegitimate love child than Starscream at this point. Just a few more pins to finish my bag now

[thottieonline]

PENN’S HOTTEST VIRGIN

LUIGI MANGIONE X VIRGIN! FEM READER

IN WHICH — Reader goes to her first Frat Party at Phi Kappa Psi, partying with Frat President Luigi Mangione.

WARNINGS — SMUT!! Porn with a Plot! Minors DNI!

CONTAINS — Loss of Virginity (Duh), Religious themes, PinV! Oral (Fem! Receiving), Praise! Blasphemy — we knew it was coming. Reader wears glasses (a bit self indulgent, lol)

NOTES — So. Much. Dirty. Talk. Luigi’s a little rough but we love it! Like this is just straight PORN I’m so sorry!! Anyways, this is my first smut on Tumblr, so excited to be here!

To Y/N, it seemed that it was a social norm to have had sexual experiences or have been in a relationship, especially by your second year in one of the biggest party schools in the country — So how was it possible someone as beautiful as Y/N could remain untouched?

She knew her male peers gawked at her and shamelessly spoke about her whenever she walked by, often hearing the things they wanted to do to her in passing, ultimately sending shivers down her spine.

She was innocent, not stupid.

Considering she came from a family devoted to their Catholic faith, they had tried their best to shield her from a life of “sin.” However, as she grew older, she started to question her religion.

Would I really go to hell for doing this? If I wasn’t meant to be doing this, why does it feel so good?

Those questions eventually lead her to make more impulsive decisions. After all, you’re only twenty in one of the biggest party schools once.

Ask for forgiveness, not permission — The voice of her roommate Blair spoke into her head. Blair being her voice of unreason, she encouraged her to be more wild, thus leading to them getting ready for a frat party at one a.m on a Tuesday.

“B, you still haven’t told me what frat we’re going to.” Y/N yelled over Blair’s loud music, Blair only sparing a glance at her and refocused on her hair. “We’re going to Kappa.”

Phi Kappa Psi was one of UPenn’s biggest frat houses, gaining a reputation for throwing the wildest parties on campus, competing with other frat houses on who could garner the most attention, in-campus and off-campus.

Other Fraternities pale in comparison to Phi Kappa as they miss one important element — Luigi Mangione.

Luigi Mangione managed to make a name for himself as a fourth year student, making a lasting impression on his fellow peers and professors. Being exceptionally gifted in Computer Science, Robotics, and Charisma — Mangione had the respect of everyone around him in the palm of his hand.

Mangione being five-foot-eleven, athletic and intelligent with unruly curly hair and a smile to die for — It was simple, really. Every man wanted to be him, while every girl prayed for the opportunity to be the next one he took to bed.

She was no exception — though she never voiced her desires out loud. Y/N often imagined his lips trailing down her neck, his lips creating a suction on her sensitive skin, sucking on her vanilla lotioned skin to the point of bruising.

God only knew how much she wanted to be marked up by him. Her virgin mind constantly thought about sex, but she couldn’t think about anyone else but him. No one else had her attention like he did and that was exactly how she liked it.

She only thought about Luigi fucking her to the point where she cried, her pussy being used and overfilled with his cum. She’d imagine him continuing to fuck her after she lost count of how many times she came, the glasses she normally wore on her face were nowhere to be found.

Y/N imagined Luigi calling her his perfect slut, praising her ability to take all of him like a champ.

“God it’s like this pussy was made for me. Tell me, how good do I fuck you, baby?”

“Such a good fucking slut for me, N/N.”

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby. Let me see you.”

Just the thought of him made her thighs clench together. Luigi was the only one she would ever let fuck raw. She needed to feel all of him, every inch and every vein of his Italian cock. She wanted Luigi to ruin her for other men, fucking her so good to the point all she can remember is his name.

It’d be even better for her to wake up to such a deliciously painful reminder of him when she’s hardly able to walk the next morning.

“Okay, I’m done.” Blair spoke, quickly snapping Y/N back to reality. She looked at her roommate, seeing she had finished getting ready for the night.

Since it was a frat party, Y/N and Blair were dressed in simple yet sexy outfits— Y/N opting for a black tank top, pairing them with denim shorts that were tight on her ass and her beat up sneakers.

She’d done her hair hours ago, opting to go straight, putting her trust onto the anti-humidity products she put in her hair to last all night.

“Bitch you look so good.” She smiled, Blair giving her a full 360 of her outfit. “Thank you, baby.” Blair smiled at her compliment.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to get fucked tonight, looking all sexy.” Blair teased, making Y/N roll her eyes, fighting back a smile.

“So what if I am?” She challenged, half-jokingly.

Blair squealed, “She’s finally coming out of her shell! Took almost two years but we’re here.” She quickly wrapped her arms around Y/N. “C’mon, let’s get you fucked up tonight!”

Before she knew it, Y/N had stepped foot onto Kappa grounds, already trashed with red solo cups and a couple of passed out partygoers on the front yard — It looked like a scene straight out of Project X.

Careful to not step on those passed out on the grass, Y/N and Blair made it to the front door, pathetically guarded by one of the seemingly drunk pledges. “Damn, looking good mamis.”

The two giggled at the slurred voice of the young man, “You two on the list?” He asked. Before Y/N could open her mouth, Blair already began talking to him.

“Not really, but I think you can make an exception for tonight?” Blair flirted, placing her manicured hand on his bicep, giving the young man false hope of something happening later on.

“Fuck,” He uttered under his breath. “Yeah, you two can come in. Enjoy, ladies.” He stepped out of the way, letting Y/N and Blair come through.

“You gotta teach me how to do that.” Y/N chuckled. “It was like you didn’t have to try at all.”

“Y/N, please, you can totally do that. You just overthink things too much. You didn’t see how he was looking at you at the door?” Blair chuckled. “Now, let’s get you some liquid courage — God knows how much you need it.”

With that, Blair took Y/N’s hand and led her to the dining room, where the infamous Kappa jungle juice was placed. Blair poured herself and Y/N a full cup — the combination of the sweet cranberry juice and the unforgiving strong scent of liquor nearly sent her to a drunken state.

Out of habit, she did a silent prayer before she downed her drink.

“Fuck, that’s strong.” She groaned to herself, the bitter taste of the liquor lingering on her tongue. Y/N pushed herself to drink more — It wouldn’t be a complete first frat party experience without getting shitfaced drunk.

Blair giggled at the sight, “I’ll be right back, N/N. Stay here, ‘Kay?”

“Mhm.” Y/N hummed, acknowledging her. She continued to drink, silently praying once more to get her through the unforgiving taste of the drink in her cup.

God, if you let me get through this, I promise you—

“Yeah, I’d say the prayer is totally necessary.” A deep voice spoke close to her, interrupting her moment with the man upstairs. Y/N turned her head to the side out of curiosity and there he stood less than a foot away — Luigi fucking Mangione smirking at her.

“Say, were you also raised catholic or was that for dramatics?” He teased, making her blush as she looked down at her feet before looking up at him again.

“Definitely both.” Y/N laughed, her free hand playing with her gold cross necklace that laid nicely on her chest.

Luigi’s gaze flickering from her eyes onto her necklace. He admired how the gold cross complimented her glistened skin. The last piece of Y/N’s devotion to God contrasting with the less-than-holy outfit she had on drove him insane.

“I’m Y/N, by the way.” She spoke, the liquor giving her the courage to introduce herself — something she could’ve never imagined doing stone cold sober. The sound of her voice made him flicker his gaze from her chest onto her eyes, decorated with her signature frames.

He smirked to himself before telling her — “I know who you are, pretty. I’m just surprised to see you here, that’s all.” With that, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her body closer to his, her heart racing faster with just a simple touch.

“You do?” She questioned.

Mangione was two years above her and to the best of her knowledge, they didn’t have any classes together. It was a really big school, after all.

“You don’t know?” He asks, taking in how her eyes glimmered with curiosity as she shook her head. “You’ve seriously never seen the Penn Crush page on Facebook?”

“You know, I don’t really use Facebook like that — So, I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.” She smiles, watching him pull out his phone to look up the infamous Penn Crushes page on his screen.

A few seconds pass by and there she was — Y/N L/N all in her glory. She scrolled through his screen, seeing the countless pictures taken of random students that deemed was submitted to the page — yet a lot of those pictures were of her.

There was one picture of her taken from afar where she sat on a random bench, presumably waiting for her next class, and there was another one that she recalled Blair taking a picture and uploaded on her Instagram story. It must’ve been screenshot and submitted as she saw the amount of likes on the post.

She continued to scroll until she saw one post where the caption immediately grabbed her attention —

Penn’s Hottest Virgin, Y/N L/N in a throwback post with the Penn Catholic Service Association. It’s great knowing she’s kept her promise! #virginityrocks

“Oh My God.” Y/N laughs at the post. She recalled joining PCSA when she first came to the school to have an outlet where she could be with others like herself.

She’d thought it’d be a good way to stay connected to her religion while forming new friendships, becoming a dedicated member of the association and getting involved with her community.

Y/N recalled the event from the post as she had to prepare a speech on why it was important to her to keep her promise to God to maintain her purity. At the time, she didn’t mind that people knew if she was a virgin — It was the whole point of the speech!

However, as time passed on and she had since left the association, it was definitely something that she wouldn’t have shared now, nearly two years later.

She read through the comments, barely processing the countless amounts of praise she received unbeknownst to her. “I didn’t think I was on anyone’s radar,” She joked, “Especially as the hottest virgin.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely a fan favorite.” He told her, not before he pulled her impossibly closer. “Have you kept your promise?” He teased, seeing the almost immediate effect he had on her.

She didn’t know if it was the combination of the crowded room they were in with the liquor or the fact that Mangione’s lips were on her ear, asking a question that sounded so innocent, yet so filthy.

The heat rising in her body was getting too much. Y/N felt his hazel eyes following her every move, from the way she subtly pushes up her glasses to the way she clenches her thighs together to relieve the ache in between her legs.

“Yes, sir.” She smiled at him, “But, I think I wanna break it.”

“You do?” He cooed, tucking her hair behind her ear. Luigi knew she wanted him as bad as he did, but he needed those words to come out of her mouth.

She bit her lip, holding back her words for the last time. “I want you to take my virginity.”

With that, he put down his cup on the remaining space on the counter, taking her hand in his and leading her up to his room.

The hallways were completely closed off. It was quiet, a complete one-eighty of the chaos that ensued everywhere else. Luigi unlocked his room, holding the door open for her as she entered what she would describe as the closest thing to heaven.

Y/N turned around to see him close the door and without hesitation, he pulled her by her waist and placed his soft, plump lips onto hers, starting her off slow and sensual — It was the perfect first kiss, she thought, but she knew the slow pace wasn’t going to be enough.

She wanted him so fucking bad, wanting to prove to him that she could take it like the good fucking girl she is. She’d been waiting for him all this time and she couldn’t let it go to waste. Y/N pulled him impossibly closer to her as she began to channel her insatiable desire for him, Mangione following suit.

His hands trailed from her waist and latched onto her hips, fueled by desire as he backed her onto his mattress, their bodies creating a soft thud on the bed. Never breaking the kiss, Luigi ground himself onto her denim shorts, making her moan into the kiss.

“Fuck, that feels so good.” She whimpered, breaking away from their kiss. He was orally fixated on her, his lips continuing their delicious assault on her sensitive skin.

“Gonna mark you up real nice, baby.” He uttered, eliciting a moan from her in response. “You like that, hm? You wanna be marked up by me?”

“So fucking bad.” He smirked at her confession, placing his lips back onto her neck and trailed down to her belly button. His strong hands roughly pulled down her denim shorts, Y/N’s body clad with her tank top and her soaked white thong.

The cool air in his bedroom didn’t help relieve the ache in between her thighs, needing him more than ever. “Bow on your panties? How cute.” He teased, pushing her panties to the side as he licked a bold stripe on her slit.

Her hips jolted at the newfound sensation, Mangione smiling at her reaction. His hands gripped onto her hips as he continued to use his tongue on her relentlessly, needing her to get himself drunk. Luigi couldn’t help himself but gather every last drop of her juices on his tongue, tasting her virginal pussy.

A string of sounds escaped her mouth as his tongue continued to work through her folds, circling his tongue around her clit before sucking on it. Her knees buckled at the suction of his lips.

“Fuck, L-Luigi.” She whimpered.

It was all happening so fast, her mind in a haze as Luigi held her up, throwing one of her legs over his shoulder as he continued to give his all, devouring her as if she was his last meal.

He had love for the game, so determined to make her first time worth it — wanting her to scream his name loud enough so everyone could know he was the first one to fuck Penn’s Hottest Virgin.

“Say it louder, baby. Need everyone to hear you.” He heaved, replacing his mouth with his long, skilled fingers.

She cried in pleasure as his two fingers stretched her out like no other, his digits pressing right up against that spot deep inside her that she could never reach on her own. Her glasses had slipped off her face, laid somewhere on his mattress.

It would’ve frustrated her to not be able to see, but with how good he’d been giving it to her, her eyes had stayed shut, the poor girl only being able to keep them open for only a few seconds until the next wave of pleasure.

“Put them back on for me, baby — Please.” He pleaded, loving how her glasses decorated her face. That was her signature, she’d never been without her glasses since the first time he saw her.

She reached out for her glasses, feeling the hard plastic beside her, putting them back on her beautiful face.

“Did so fucking good baby, listening to me.” He praises her, taking out his fingers and putting his mouth back on her needy pussy.

Y/N was so fucking close, her legs shaking around him as he devours until there’s nothing left — Luigi drinking up all her juices as they spread from her pussy to her thighs and undoubtedly his bedsheets.

Mangione had taken everything from her at that moment — her body, mind and voice. It was all too much, her needy hands reached into his bed of curls, gripping onto them as she buried him impossibly deeper between her thighs.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck Lui, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonn-” She cried out, tears running down her face as his name rolled off her tongue, his name being said so many times as if it were a prayer.

It was so sinful, so sexy, and he loved it.

“Cum on it, baby.” He urged, his tongue desperate for another taste. Luigi had been hooked from the first drop and had a craving for more. His tongue trailed from her hole onto the top of her folds, swallowing the remaining juices on her pussy.

“You taste so fucking good.” He praised, kissing her right inner thigh. Luigi could spend his entire life reliving this moment, worshipping her body.

Her body was in a near paralyzed state, the only signs of her liveliness was her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. Her glasses were now sitting at the tip of her nose, making her look so much sexier to him.

Luigi tried to fight back his infamous shit-eating smirk, but it was no use. He smiled proudly, showcasing the infamous fangs that everyone had been obsessed with, Y/N included.

Seeing those fangs reignited the fire in her body, needing to feel him again. Y/N lifted herself up and got on her fours, crawling to the edge of the bed where he remained kneeled.

There was nothing else on her mind but him. She wanted him to ruin her so fucking badly and so did he. His hazel eyes were clouded with lust as were hers. His dick was uncomfortably strained against his shorts, begging to be inside her virgin pussy.

Mangione leaned closer, his hands gently grab on to her face as he brings her closer to his face, closing the gap between them.

He held her face as their lips moved in sync, much hungrier than before, Y/N tasting the combination of the sweet jungle juice and herself on his tongue. Her hands trailed down his toned body, feeling his hard cock on the palm of her hand.

“Not sure if all of that is gonna fit inside me, Lui.” She joked, as she pulled away from the kiss, gently squeezing his bulge. It felt so fucking good under her hand, the feeling of how hard he was for her made her so much wetter.

“We’ll make it fit. I’ll make sure you’ll take all of it.” He promised, sealing it with a kiss. He pulled down his shorts, revealing how big he was — His tip glossed with precum. 

“I’ve wanted you for so long, N/N — wanted you in my bed since I first saw you.” He confesses, guiding his dick between her folds. His tip rested right at her pussy, inching in slowly as she winced in pain.

“Want me to stop, baby?” He coos, caressing her soft thigh.

She shook her head, “I-I can take it, Lui—S-Swear.”

Satisfied, he pushes himself in her even more. “God, you feel so fucking good — wanna fuck you so hard, but we gotta wait, right?” He teased.

“Fuck me, Lui.” She pleaded, pulling his face down so she could whisper into his ear, the hard plastic pressed against the shell of his ear — “I want you to fuck me until I can't walk straight."

With that, he pushed himself all the way inside, his dick harder than ever before. The burning sensation intensified, a small shriek erupting from her throat. “F-Fuck.” Y/N gasped.

The initial pain soon subsided as he continued to thrust, his hips connecting to hers — Luigi & Y/N becoming one. She cried with pleasure as Luigi’s pace intensified, making her tits’ jiggle out of the skimpy tank top, her eighteen karat gold chain smacking against her chest.

It felt so fucking wrong, yet so fucking right.

He wasn’t ever supposed to see her in that way — For fucks’ sake, he wasn’t even supposed to know who she was!

Mangione was her fantasy come to life. She loved the way he felt, his cock going in so deep inside her he could see an imprint of where he was. He couldn’t resist, taking her hand in his and placing it on her stomach.

“You feel that? I want you to remember it f-forever.” He groaned. Her cunt grasped him hard, holding him even tighter.

“Oh fuck! Y-You make me feel so fucking g-good, baby.” She whimpered.

“Yeah?” He mocked, grinding his hips deeper into hers, his pace slowing down a bit, making her feel every inch and vein of his. She clenched around him once more, Luigi groaning at the sudden tightness. He worked harder, hips snapping into hers as he picked up the pace once again.

Y/N loved how full he made her, the way he didn’t leave a single part of her body untouched.

“God, it’s like this pussy was made for me. Tell me, how good do I fuck you, baby?” He gripped on her hips, smiling at her fucked out expression.

“So,” It was all she could get out, her speech becoming more incoherent the closer she got. Y/N placed her manicured fingers on her clit rubbing her sensitive bud in circles, matching his pace.

Her body squirmed at the dual stimulation — It was all becoming too much. Y/N wanted this to last forever, never wanting to forget how his big dick felt inside her body, fucking her like the slut she knew she was.

“Luigi!” She screamed in pleasure, reaching her peak. Her walls pulsated around him like crazy, nearly sending Luigi into his climax. As much as he wanted to cum inside her, the thought of him cumming on her beautiful glasses sent him into overdrive.

God, he just loved her fucking glasses.

“Please baby, I just wanna cum on your glasses. Can I, baby?” He pleaded, pulling out of her. He took his needy cock in his strong hand, he inching closer to her frames.

He was so close, how could she deny him such a pleasure?

Y/N nodded, excitedly grabbing his dick from his hold and jerked him, aiming him closer to her frames. “Like this?” She asked sweetly as he shuddered around her touch.

His cum quickly shot out of him, landing on her glasses and coating her vision. “Just like that, sweetheart.” He assured her.

Luigi released himself from her touch, wanting to mark her up with his cum, aiming for below her stomach. He released a string of curses under his breath, chasing his much needed relief.

“Fuck, that was definitely the best sex I’ve ever had.” He breathed, feeling so fucked out as he laid next to Y/N’s body.

At that point, her hair had been messed up as the anti-humidity spray was no longer holding up as some texture had shown up, adding onto her “sexed out” look.

Even with her hair wild and free, she still managed to look so beautiful — Luigi couldn’t get enough.

She shook her head, playfully rolling her eyes at him. “Please, you’re just saying that.”

“I mean every word I say, Y/N. I’ve thought about you so much, it drove me insane — Do you know how hard it is to run a fraternity when there’s only one thing on your mind?” He ranted, now getting up from his spot on the bed.

She shook her head, knowing he couldn’t see her from his private bathroom. She was amused with the Italian. “Didn’t know it was so hard on you, Mr. President.”

“Very hard, actually.” He stated, returning with a damp cloth and wiping her body down. “Especially when she was known as the hottest virgin.” He joked, making her laugh.

Once she’s all wiped down, Luigi then uses his own personal glasses cleaning kit from his bedside drawer, spraying the liquid onto the stained glass, cleaning her frames with such care.

“You’re too much, Luigi.” She smiled, adoring the man beside her. “So detailed, too.”

“I’ll prove it everyday if I have to, Bellisima.” He professes, placing her frames back on her face with such care. “I’m not letting you go after everything you said to me.” Luigi pulls her in for another kiss, reassuring her he was there to stay.

[booliuu]

˗ˏˋToby Headcanons..PT2ˎˊ˗

ꪆৎ 𝙰/𝙽 : this is a continuation of my first headcanons oh him. Here’s the * link* if you haven’t check it out yet, btw thanks for almost 50 likes😭😭 you guys are so sweet!! anyways enjoy of me rambling about this man again :DD🫶🏼

• my inbox is open for ask and requests!!

🪓 . . He’s a taurus baaabies ( b-day April 28th!) .. may i add something too👉👈 i just know in the bottom of my heart my man def has a sagittarius moon placement or lots of fire signs placements in his birth chart. SCORPIO VENUS TOO 👀👀 he loves so intenselyyy. okok anyways-

🪓 . . He has so many piercings!! I can definitely say on his face he has a septum , nostril , bridge ,and a snake bite 😮‍💨. And for his ears he has industrial, lobes ( thought about stretching his lobes but is too scared lol) and conches done.

➯ went a bit crazy with his piercing bc his parents were so against him getting them done during his high school years. But now that he’s an adult he goes all out.

➯ takes great care of them too! ^^

🪓 . . wears fingerless gloves to mange with his rlly bad hand picking habit. don’t have nails bc how bad his his habits are :((.

🪓 . . Owns a lot of graphic tee’s and most of them are bands that he never heard of before lmao same🥲. Whatever shirt he’s wearing that day a creep or random ppl ask him what’s his favorite song or album is , he gets all awkward and he’s stands like an idiot like🧍.

➯ all sorts of baggy and ripped jeans as well ! Not a fan of tight clothes. Absolutely despises them.

🪓 . . has LOTS of scars that goes all the way back from his childhood.

🪓 . . Him & Tim before DID NOT get along at all. MAJOR BEEF WITH EACH OTHER 😭. whenever both of them were assigned on missions together, they ALWAYS be arguing about the littlest things.

* this is looong sorry ><i just love the idea that tim cares for toby. so bare with meee🥹🥹

➯ Mainly because tim behavior rubs toby the wrong way. It reminds him of his father in some ways and gets highly defensive whenever tim tells him what to do or criticizes him.

➯ Tim thinks toby as a ruthless teenager ( even though he clearly knows he an adult.) thinks he needs to be told what to do at all times . Even though he a rough exterior … little does toby know he cares about toby a lot. But of course there both to stubborn as hell to tell each that 😑.

➯ until one day toby accidentally let a victim loose. when tim found out got extremely upset at toby. The yelling definitely brought Toby thoughts of his father, as a defense mechanism toby argued back . Got a bit physical but overall LOTS of yelling, brian ( the savior-) had to step in and tell them to get over it and be nice to each for once.

➯ took a WHILE for them to apologize but they did eventually. was a bit awkward but hey at least there over it :,D . Now of days they almost have a father and son dynamic. Sometimes when both of have free time tim will show toby how to fix up a car, how to cook on a grill , yk bonding.

➯ brings Toby lots of nostalgia and confusion because he never treated like this by man before bc the only nice people he was surrounded by in his whole life was just is his mom and his sister . so surely his inner child is slowly healing. when he actually took a chance and thought about tim’s behavior towards him one night, he had to sit down for bit , beer in hand ( definitely not given by tim-) cry for a bit while tim rubs his back in comforting way while smoking a cigarette ofc.

🪓 . . owns torn up converse and doc martens. TONS of hoodies, leather jackets and winter jackets!

🪓 . . HIS ROOM!! oh good god…it’s so unorganized. mostly because his collection of clothes he picked up over the years that he borrowed TvT iykyk… never bothers to clean it. his own words not mine

Toby: “ it’s my man c-cave. my rules.”

Tim: *SIGHS*“ jesus fucking christ….. your a mess.”

🪓 . . Speaking of his room it has lots of band posters and tapestry’s!

🪓 . . Knows so much animals facts.. it’s actually scary but entertaining.he literally bring up in random ways possible. that’s toby for yea..!! :DD

🪓 . . His favorite animals consists of what’s around him in the slender forest. such deers, raccoons, fox & wolf , birds , bears and has a love for reptiles as well.

🪓 . . lol if your scared of bugs i feel sorry for you , reptiles or just any animals i have listed…he’s def the type of friend that has it cupped in his hand and shoving it in your face. Lives for your reaction. 🩷

🪓 . . a bit awkward and has a cold front when you first meet him. he likes to observe, doesn’t trust ppl easily. If he likes you slowly opens his shell and he shows his true colors such being a little shit, teasing you playful ofc, butting head with you 24/7. eeehh..but if he hates you good luck with this one… he make it known he doesn’t like you . you won’t know but others who know him do.

🪓 . . Growing up he was known for being the shy quiet kid that never speaks up for himself. He thinks about it now and really started changing meaning slowly and eventually he became more confident. like throwing sarcastic comments , knows lots of good clap backs or calling out’s if someone offended him or something. he’s changed man guys nothing like his younger self. proud of him 🥹

🪓 . . I see ppl saying that he’s the kind of friend that wants to be around you 24/7. 100% agree 👍 . yk hanging out in yours or his rooms for like smoke breaks, joining you during missions, watching tiktok’s & sending them to you even though your in the same room as he is , or even just simply pure silent and just basking in each others presence.

Toby: t-t-this is so you…

Toby: * sents you a tiktok*

You: bruh wtfff

* cue him laughing his ass off

🪓 . . Going to the local drug store to grab some slushes and junk food. HE LIVES FOR THOSE HANGS OUTS. TELL ME IM WRONG.

› › › i’ll make sure to be more in depth with this one :3 so be in a look out for some platonic toby headcanons in the future!!! ^^

🪓 . . Everytime someone says toby loves waffles sighs…. man i’m telling you right now an angel loses it wings ☹️ 👎. He has extended food palette than that y’all c’mon.

🪓 . . i mean it’s not the best diet… it literally just energy drinks but at least his friends look out for him and leave him take out because they know he doesn’t feel hunger like we do.

🪓 . . due to that, he has a lean built. Has a bit of a 6 pack ( you have to squint to see em ) and has muscles on his arms . He’s really proud of his arms lol. Has a bit of beard?? Scruff?? idk what’s it’s called going on too ^^ shaves ones in a while. aaaand..hehe has a happy trail situation... ANYWAYSSSS that’s for next time 😉.

🪓 . . yk how how i said he has a collection of phones he… collected *cough🪓🪓 cough*… firm believer he has playlist in each phone of them that consists of western emo music. also.. DAD ROCK .

🪓 . . his favorite weather has to be autumn because the animals around forest comes out more and he hangs out and pets all of them. likes looking at the trees and how each of the leaves are changing colors.

🪓 . . his joints pop loud real bad whenever he stretching , walking , or running . it pisses him so badly lolll.

🪓 . . loves sleeping and taking naps🫶🏼 whenever or whatever. like tree tops , his bed, closet, ect. hates mornings with passion prefers to sleep in. toby 🤞power naps . downside being that he snores like no one business and moves around his sleep.

🪓 . . blind on his left eye and that same eye has a permanent split eyebrow from the car crash.

🪓 . . Even though i want say he smells like vanilla or something sweet naaah …. srry bby😔. he gotta smell like the woods , dirt, bl*od.. sometimes , or even pinewood. From time to time smells like cheap shampoo and conditioner when he remembers to shower.

🪓 . . lastly his hair.. HIS 👏HAIR 😭😭 it’s so soft…he’s rocking shaggy haircut that tim trims once in a while.

𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚜: @bloodibambiidol & @kodaswrld ✨ there stuff is cool check it out!

ꪆৎ 𝙰/𝙽 : HEEEEY IM BACK, i know posted 2-3?? days ago and honestly im so happy to it has so many likes already. thank you so much 🫶🏼 it means so much to me!! i’ll try to post as consistent as i can but no promises. 😣As of right now my wips are a bunch of toby headcanons and one shots i need to finish and post and dw other characters too dww🤍🤍.

* feedback is always welcome. if you like my content please don’t get to like or reblog ^^.

liuuboo2025 do not copy , translate or plagiarize any of my works. thank you ♡ﾟ

[syndrossi]

wait we can request again? shit then what do i have to do to get a new scene from Reversal?

what about a scene in which Jon wants to attend sword lessons and Daemon, who is confused but agrees because who is he to deny his daughter a valuable skill set that their ancestor Visenya possessed? and because Viserys obviously goes “no” since she’s a girl, we get to see Daemon go “oh fine, she would’ve been taught by Cole anyway” and proceeds to secretly teach her himself. Rhaegar can join too.

that, or a scene where they pick their new names and we get to read Daemon’s POV and his thoughts on their choices. (i think this may be the easier, quicker scene to write)

also who do i have to bribe to make Jon’s name Daenerys— is it Daenerys or is it Aemma— i will fight, i will beg, i will cry, mostly beg because it’s all that i can do atm, i’m all cried out rn but i’ll do it🥺

side note: it’s thursday and i had pizza, it made me think of resonant.

Mercy! I still have 30ish NYE prompts sitting in my inbox, including at least one of yours from that time! 😂

I love your pizza Thursdays that I often live vicariously through. I'm sure you don't do it every week, but next Thursday should be a Resonant Thursday at least!

This time we are keeping it SHORT FOR REAL...ish.

x~x~x

“—nor should we be left defenseless, should someone try to take us again,” his daughter said with an edge to her voice that told Daemon she still was haunted by their captivity.

“The hunting knives our mother gave us are no child’s toy,” Rhaella added softly, gaze flicking to the clench of his jaw at the mention of his wife. “She promised that we would learn to defend ourselves.”

Daemon fully intended to be the one defending, but for all his daughters’ carefully crafted arguments, he did not object to them learning both the sword and bow. Viserys might remind him that they were princesses, not princes in skirts, but Dark Sister had been wielded by Visenya before him. The women of their family had as much right to know the sword.

“First,” Daemon said, “I would see what you are capable of.”

He did not hold high expectations, though he knew his daughters well enough to anticipate both discipline and determination. But they exchanged a joyful glance and disappeared into their bedchamber to change into their riding trousers. Daemon could not help but smile as he led them to the training yard and watched them eagerly don the padded training armor.

His nephews did not train until the afternoon, which meant the yard was blessedly free of Cole’s dour presence. His daughters’ presence did earn more than a few curious looks from the various knights and guardsmen training in the yard, and they grew more curious still as Daemon tested his daughters.

They have been taught before. 

He did not know whether to be upset or grateful. Their movements were clumsy at times, but it was a clumsiness born of disuse and growing limbs, and over the course of the hour, most of the rust had gone, revealing the deadly blades beneath.

They are far better than my brother’s sons. Better than many squires he had seen. Aemma was quick and ruthless, her eyes narrowed in concentration at all times. Rhaella was more graceful, with nigh impeccable form, though she lacked her sister’s instinct for blood.

He would have been proud of their skill, had they been sons, and his pride was no lesser for the fact that they were daughters instead. The knights in the yard lined the fences, shouting encouragement with each bout, and cheering the princesses on as they drilled against one another.

The interest did not abate when the bows were brought out. His daughters seemed more than a little disappointed at having to use Aemond’s bow for its lighter draw, but after adjusting, it became clear that their training in the Vale had included the bow as well. That was less surprising, given Rhea’s love of hunting.

After both had finished with their targets—with Rhaella edging her sister out on accuracy—Aemma called for a moving target. An apple was tossed from their audience, passing in front of the targets, and his eldest pivoted to loose an arrow at it, pinning it to the target to a roar of appreciation.

[sailorsoons]

Hi okay it took me a really long time to get to this reblog because I wanted to actually sit down and write a cohesive response to how insanely rewarding it was to read feedback that was this substantial and cohesive. I'm actually a bit at a loss for words because the time and effort it must have taken to actually sit and go through to break down the elements of this fic actually made me cry when I saw your review the first time.

There are so so many things I loved about writing this fic and you hit the points of SO MANY of them if not all of them. The Syndicate positions are mostly a mix of the major arcana and chess - so I love that you caught that. Some of the roles aren't from either, but for the most part that is where I drew the most inspiration on for a ton of them!!!

Cyberpunk is one of my favorite genres to write because there is SO MUCH you can invent and do with it - I am so glad that it pays off here and that the finer details of this little world I've carved out hit the nail on the head!

You actually pointed out something really specific that I adore - specifically The Tower and Baby/Seungcheol's dad. Because he's not likable for a lot of reasons but there are qualities about him that are like... not inherently awful at the same time. He is super devoted to his wife and kids, he's very much a leader of the family and wants to protect them, and he wants what's best but at the same time.... everyone outside his immediately family is expendable and he knew he'd be extinguishing his daughter's flame for the sake of partnership. So it's like .... fuck you but also.... I can see the logic there.

Anyway I have so many things I could say and I don't think I could ever thank you enough - this review and in-depthness of your thoughts literally could sustain me for the rest of my life. Thank you so much, you have no idea how much this means to me!!

Baby (k.sy)

Pairing: Soongyoung x f. reader

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

Word Count: 29,988

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

Type: Smut, Heavy Angst

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

Warnings: Full warnings available under the cut.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not any good.”

“That’s okay. I’ll let you beat me.” 

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

“No way!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everyone treats me like a baby.” 

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

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

“What about you?” you ask. 

“What about me?” 

“Jump.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

“I have no idea.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you look at me?”

“No.”

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

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

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

“Just let me go!” 

“No. Why do you want me to kiss you?”

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

“Fuck - are you crying?”

“No.”

“Baby, look at me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Baby. What’s up?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go away.”

“Baby, please don’t start with me.”

“I’m not starting fuck with you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not mad at you. Go away!”

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

“Please fuck off.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t feel very fun right now.”

“Drugs will fix it!” 

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

“Ignore him,” you insist. 

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

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

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

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

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

“So it is about her?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well fuck him!”

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

“I want to break her fucking face!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? Why not?”

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

“The Tower doesn’t have to know.”

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

“Not if you tell them not to.”

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

“Angel said you had a bad day.”

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

You snort. “You tell her that.”

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

“I’m not helpless.”

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

“So you think I’m pretty?”

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

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

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

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

“What if I said I did?” 

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

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

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

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

Soonyoung also probably would have had them beaten. 

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

“What?” you ask. 

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

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

“And?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re gross.” 

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

“A present?”

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

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

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

“Bring it over here.” 

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

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

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

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

“And what is this gift for?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

He nods. “Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.” 

Both you realize. You can deal with both. 

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

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

He shrugs you off. “Not mine.” 

“I - what’s going on?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me call Vernon-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not made for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah? Like what?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The Yongs are doing it outright?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Soonyoung is below your station, though. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least you know where your stubborn streak comes from. 

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

“That’s because he’s a man.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’d fallen in love with her that night. 

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

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

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

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

You are going to marry the Kim family heir.

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

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

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

“I don’t understand.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You will not!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mother will not let you-”

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

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

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

I’m not made for you. 

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

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

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

“Yes, Tower.”

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

“Yes, Tower.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looks doubtful. “Alright.”

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

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just want to shower.” 

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

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

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

“You can go,” you say sharply. 

“Alright.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The older generation, though- 

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

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

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

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

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

Steadfast is the mountain. 

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

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

Steadfast is the mountain. 

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m marrying Kim Yijun.” 

A beat passes. Then another. 

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

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

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

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

“You’re not fucking marrying Kim Yijun.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Home?” 

“The Choi Estate.” 

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

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

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

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

No. No no no no no. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you pointing a gun at me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It worked. Let’s go.”

“Are you fucking crazy?”

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

“Why?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you trying to kill us?”

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

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

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

“So what, you check on me?”

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

“The Tower personally requested I come get you.” 

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

“What’s happened?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seungcheol hardly takes what I say to heart.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s not Kwon Soonyoung. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

But if the Kim family turned to the Yong family… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which is something you still worry about. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I already took her phone and her gun.”

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

“Or that psycho fuck,” Yijun mutters. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Angel, I think.”

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

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

The Tower has fallen.

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

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

Steadfast is the mountain, but the fire does burn. 

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve endured for nothing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you in the house?” 

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

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

“Yes.”

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

“You need to warn-”

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

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

“Do you have frostbyte?”

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

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

“Okay.” 

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

You whisper back, “I love you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And again and again and again - 

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

And again and again and again - 

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

And again and again and again -

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

Again and AGAINANDAGAINANDAGAINAND- 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ribs.” 

“Left or right?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah of course.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it terrible?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yijun. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. “Alright. I’ll try.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s farcical at best. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh. Sure.”

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

“Are you busy? We don’t have to-”

“It’s just Jihoon.” 

“Ah. He’s persistent, are you sure-”

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

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

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

“What?” He stops walking, confused. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Soonyoung-”

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

“I know. I won’t make you.” 

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

“I know.”

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

Crying for the first time since his parents died. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Never.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

“I know.” 

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

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

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

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

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SYNDICATE ROLES

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

[jjkarmy091]

Second Best- Jungkook (part 9)

Summary: Being friends with someone who has your heart it’s already hard, let alone when that special someone ends up falling in love with your best friend, the one you think would never make anything to hurt you . Will you be able to ignore it and move on? what will happen when everything gets too much for you to handle?

Genre: Friends to lovers; angst; body insecurities; bullying; friend betrayel;

Pairing: Jungkook x female!reader

Warning: strong language

Wordcount: 5.820

Author's note: I hope you guys enjoy this chapter just as much as I enjoyed writting it. Give me your thoughts. I love you all <3

P.S : I'm sorry for any mistakes

After Jungkook left Y/n found herself having an anxiety attack. What the hell did she just do? She was so mad and frustrated with her feelings and having Jungkook so close to her, so defenseless made her fold in so many ways. She made a mistake and now she couldn’t look at Jungkook like before. Not when he knows almost everything.  

She never thought that love would be this complicated. If only she knew this before, she would’ve never gotten so close to him. How dumb of her. Now mistakes were made and things were said... Oh how she wished to take them all back. She doesn’t know how much time she spent there alone until she saw Lisa run towards her with a very worried face. 

“Are you okay? I called you so many times, why didn’t you answer? I was worried sick!” she kneeled in front of her, checking if she had injuries. It was then when Y/n remembered Jungkook’s words 

I only found out that you were back because I saw your friend here yesterday 

All of a sudden Y/n gets up startling Lisa a little bit and goes a little far, breathing heavily. She turned to face her again and Lisa saw disappointment in her eyes.  

“You talked to Jungkook yesterday?” Lisa’s face went blank.

“I can explain” she tried approaching her friend but was dismissed. “Y/n I was trying to help somehow and ---” 

“So you told him I was back and that he should come here to talk?! Seriously, what’s wrong with you?” Y/n’s tears threatened to leave. Again “He did come here to talk. Out of nowhere, on my first day back to work Lisa! It went awful. We fought – I told him I was in love with him and it all went downhill afterwards. I love you and I’m so thankful for your support during these days but this was any of your concern and you shouldn't have gotten involved in this. How did you know who he was anyway?”  

“When I walked in, the coffee shop was very calm so I went to make my order and ended up making small talk with Sana. That’s when I noticed him sat down with his coffee in front of him looking outside the window. I asked her if he was Jungkook. He must’ve felt the looks on him because when he saw me, he got up so quick he almost fell. He was very straightforward, I was actually impressed. He asked me about you, if you were back in town, that he saw some pictures of us on our trip and invited me to sit with him so we could talk a bit... I know I shouldn’t have gotten involved, but he looked so heartbroken Y/n, you should’ve seen his face. If I had told you he was gonna see you you’d have run like you always do, because you’re never ready to face your problems” Y/n stayed quiet. Even tho she didn’t appreciate Lisa’s attitude, she had to agree with her partially. She didn’t say anything else, preparing herself to finally close the shop and heading home with Lisa. 

The drive home was very quiet and the tension was palpable. Lisa would give her some looks here and there, which Y/n decided to ignore, focusing on the view outside. It had started to rain and the radio was playing "You Broke Me First" by Tate Mcrae. Fate was definitely giving her reasons to cry even more. She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't notice them entering the garage at home. As soon as she felt the car pull into the parking lot, she quickly got out of the car and started heading towards the elevator that would take them to their floor. A few seconds later she felt Lisa beside her. 

“I am really sorry Y/n. I just wanted to help smooth things over so you could understand each other once and for all. You both have a lot to talk about. There are many points that need to be clarified and neither you or him should jump to conclusions. I would never lie to you so when I say he was desperate to know something about you he really was Y/n, otherwise the first question in his head wouldn't be if you were okay and why were you mad at him.”  

Y/n looked at Lisa while wipping her tears. “What did you guys talk about?” Lisa gave half a smile 

“He was super nervous. Honestly, he didn't know where to start, his hands were shaking, you know? From the looks of it, it was clear that these were difficult days for him too. Then he thanked me for sitting with him and asked how you were, that you weren't responding to his texts and didn't understand your attitude. He told me about when you two met and that you were very close from then on, which is why he was so worried for not hearing anything from you in so many days. Then he confessed that he realized your distance from the moment he started dating Sewoon and asked me if I knew her too. He said he was sorry he didn't bring it up sooner and that he should have talked to you first and been more honest. In the end I mentioned that you would go back to work today, in case he wanted to talk to you, but I never thought it would go so wrong Y/n. What happened?” 

When they entered the house, they took off their shoes and put them away. Y/n went to the fridge and poured some orange juice for both of them. The fireplace was already lit, creating the perfect moment to drown the sorrows. It was so cozy and so warm. So homely. It was what she needed for the shitty weather and her mood. Y/n put her feet up on the couch and motioned for Lisa to sit next to her. 

“I wasn’t expecting him at all as you can imagine, so it was shoking for me when I heard his angelic voice. I froze. It took me a while to realize that this was going to happen and that there was no way to escape it. I don't know why he says I never said anything to him. After we arrived, I sent him a text, which he never responded to. Hence my surprise was even bigger when I saw him standing there, so I said the first thing it occurred to me. I told him we were closed. *facepalm.* He was so angry, but I can't understand why. I was too nervous to think about it anyway. You know I avoid this kind of confrontation when I feel cornered and he pressed and kept pressing even more when I started dodging his questions.”  

Y/n stops so she could five another sip on her drink. Honestly she wanted this to be a very strong shot, but after the last drinking binge, she promised herself that she wouldn't drink again in the near future.

“It was in that exchange of words that I couldn't contain myself any longer and confessed everything. I confessed that I was in love with him, that I knew he and Sewoon were still seeing each other and that I wanted some time to get my ideas together, organize my head. I tried to stay physically distant from him as much as possible, but he kept getting closer and closer to me. I swear to you Lisa, the only reason  I didn't kiss him was out of respect for Sewoon, even if she didn't have the same respect for me. I couldn't, so I sent him away. He looked so defeated, but I was so embarrassed about everything. I know I shouldn't have kicked him out of there like that. It's not his fault, I know, he didn't know but still... Every time I look at him I see a shadow of Sewoon and it breaks my heart every time.” Lisa facepalmed herself. 

“You're both being idiots. Want to know my honest opinion? I think that all this time you were interested in each other and neither of you had the courage to make the first move. Then Sewoon came along and destroyed everything else. She can manipulate things very well. I know this firsthand. Jungkook told me that besides coming here he also went to your house a lot. Did you know that?" Y/n made a shocked face 

 "How, if I never told him where I lived?"  

“He forced Sewoon to show him. He told me in passing that he had some strong arguments with her after you left and those were NOT couple arguments, but trivial arguments. She was always super calm. It made him feel weird how could she be so calm while her best friend was missing out of the blue... what are you gonna do next?” 

Y/n thought for a while. “Something I should’ve done a long time ago.”  

The next day and after a very bad night's sleep, Y/n woke up and got ready for another (long) day of work. After yesterday's episode she doubted very much that he would show up there. Yesterday she almost sent him a message apologizing, but she deleted it. She couldn', it was for her own good. Instead she texted Sewoon to meet up with her on her work break, but got no response from her, however Y/n was already expecting it.

The day went by normally, lots of movement and little rest. When there were only 5 minutes left for her break, she heard someone calling her name. Sewoon stood in front of her with her hair perfectly styled, designer clothes and sunglasses hanging from her red knitted sweater. Time really didn't pass for her. She was always so youthful, so free from worries. Y/n looked at her colleague and hinted that she was going to take a break, to which Sana nodded and headed outside with Sewoon. They were silent for a while and when Y/n realized she wasn't going to say anything she decided to make the first move 

“How are you?” Sewoon made a disdainful face 

“Cut the bullshit Y/n. There’s no need to pretend anymore, you and I know that very well, don’t we? Say what you have to say and stop wasting my time. Unlike you, I do have a fulfilled life.” Y/n felt bad about the way she was talking to her. So this is what Lisa was talking about? this unknown side of her. Yeah, because despite everything Sewoon had never spoken to her like that but, then again, Y/n was never against her game either. What an unpleasant surprise. How had she never noticed this side of her? It just proves how blind she is.  

Idiot 

“Why? Why are you acting like this? I never did anything wrong to you for you to punish me like this. On the contrary Sewoon, I've always been there for you! Is this because of Jungkook?”  

“It's for everything Y/n. Why didn't you continue in your hidden place? God, I waited every day for the news that something had happened to you so you could finally leave my life once and for all. But life is thankless. Besides you being here in front of me right now, you made me waste time with Jungkook looking for you, while you were having fun with MY ex. You’re a bitch. Of all people you had to be with him and I’ll never forgive you for that.” 

“You must be crazy. It wasn't planned! what the fuck Sewoon. It was by chance, but let me tell you that I'm glad it happened because I discovered a lot of things about your relationship! Things that aren't the way you said they were, and we've always been friends. My mistake was giving in to all your whims and distance myself from him because YOU wanted me to. Now I know it was all just your insecurity, wasn't it? Since we are confessing things, admit it! I know he had a crush on me in school and I also know you kept something it belonged to me this whole time, or you forgot about the letter he asked you to deliver?”  

After saying such words, Sewoon turned white as snow. If that's how she wanted it, that's how she would get it. “And about Jungkook, once again I was the one who met him first, way before you --” 

“Ohh please Y/n. Yes I admit I kept it all to myself because I liked him and I hated the fact that he was crushing on you, out of everyone. But you know me, one way or another, if I want something I get it and the proof of that is Jungkook.”  Every time she spoke of him, Y/n felt a sharp pang in her heart and she was terrified of what was coming next. 

 “He fell so easily into my hands and it was so nice to see your face every time you saw us together. I loved every second of your despair. You met him first, yes it's true, but after that I was first in everything. Not you. The way he touches, the way he kisses. How he fucks. I know it all, and you? Do you know what this is? No, because you're nothing more than a pathetic virgin. You'll never get past that. The game with Jungkook is not over, my love. This is just the beginning. You'll see him choose me every time, even if it's just for a quick fuck. It wouldn't be the first time or you really think that this didn't happen while we were apart? My dear, you have a long way to go before you reach me. Face it, you're not enough. Never were, never will be. You took Tae away from me so it's only fair I take Jungkook away from you.” 

After these words, Sewoon took grabbed her sunglasses and put them on her face and walked away from Y/n, not without winking at her and blew her a kiss. Y/n was terrified, completely out of place and empty. Sewoon was right, she didn't know what it was. She had won. Although at first she felt victorious with the way she was confronting her former best friend, that quickly fell apart. Now she was defeated, trying her best to hold back her tears until she left work. And with that mask, she went into the second part of his shift. 

Of course it didn't last long. An hour after the fight, a couple came in and made their order. Y/n couldn't help but look at them and think about Jungkook, about Sewoon and everything she reported they did. Them on dates, them in bed. It was the breaking point for Y/n. She told Sana she was going to the bathroom and broke down there. She lost count of the time she was closed there until Sana went to check on her and found her in a deplorable state. She had seen Sewoon come in so she knew the outcome of the conversation wasn't going to be the best. She hugged her tightly and told her to go home that she would take care of it, since the new intern who had recently joined the team was also there and he was actually quite experienced. Y/n thanked her, went to change her uniform and left.  

She was originally going to call Lisa but decided not to bother her. She was also at work and didn't want to cause any more inconvenience, so she decided to take a walk. A long one. During it she managed to calm down little by little. She sat for a while in a garden full of happy parents and children playing. She remembered her parents and how much she missed them. In these low moments, she just wanted to go back to being a child, however she remembered that even then, life wasn’t easy for her. 

It then started to get cold so she continued her walk. Without knowing how or why, she found herself in front of the tattoo shop where Jungkook worked. How the hell did she end up there? It was definitely her subconscious playing tricks on her. With that she just prayed that he wouldn't show up, but guess what? as soon as she had finished having this thought, she heard the main door open and three people came out: Jungkook, a slightly older man and a boy about her age with a film on his arm. With that, she just prayed that he wouldn't show up, but guess what, as soon as she finished thinking about it, she heard the main door open and three people coming out: Jungkook, a slightly older man and a boy about her age with a red arm and something transparent protecting the area. Must have finished a session for sure. Hidden, she watched the scene in front of her. Jungkook was calm and talking to the other two guys when suddenly he took out a pack of cigarettes. What? since when did he star smoking? 

Every time Y/n saw him he became even more attractive. She knew just as he caught her attention, he also caught many other girls' attention (and boys too, I bet). And it was something that never crossed her mind before. The amount of girls that must be waiting for him to give them a chance and for a moment she felt small, followed by an ironic laugh. It didn't matter anymore, she mentioned it was over and she was going to do everything to move on. She deserved to be happy.

Y/n hoped they would quickly enter the establishment, as it was getting very cold and she still had a 15 minute's walk home.  Looking back at the entrance, she now sees a fourth person in the group, a very pretty girl, redhead with wavy hair. She was wearing black shorts and a white top which highlighted her tanned skin. Looking at her from top to bottom, you could see her right arm covered in tattoos and a few more spread across her other arm and left leg. She seemed to be familiar to Jungkook, because as soon as he saw her they gave her a tight hug and she even took his cigarette to smoke it. The intimacy must have been very strong because he didn't make any uncomfortable face. Y/n wished she was that badass. After everyone smoked their cigarettes, they went back inside. She waited a few more minutes so she could continue on her way without being seen. And there she went, cold, hungry and jealous.  

It had only been a couple of hours since she had last spoken to him and while her world was upside down, his seemed whole, as if having "losing" a friend made no difference. You could see the traffic more now with rush hour. It was getting dark and people were heading home. Before going home aswell Y/n decided to take a detour to her favorite place to take dinner home. Lisa had said she would be late today, so it was up to her. 

Meanwhile the street had quieted down a little, but it was only for a short while because the noise of a motorcycle started to become noticeable, yet she ignored it until she started to hear constant beeping. Starting to get scared, she decided to ignore it for her own good, but the beeping started to get even more constant and faster until it seemed like someone had said her name. She stopped and saw the motorcycle slow down only to be surprised by Jungkook. Just when she wanted to run from him, was when she would see him the most. Did she ever mention she hated her luck? 

He motioned her to move forward so he could park the bike safely. Slowly she walked towards him, because the path she wanted to follow was that one, so it was difficult to go around it. He took off his helmet and watched her walk towards him. My god, could he not look away? how shameless. She gave him a nod, grabbing at the same time the coat she was wearing to hide the nervousness she was feeling. She wasn't going to stop but when she got closer he spoke. 

“Please don’t pretend I’m not here. I stopped to greet you, the one thing I’m expecting you to do is for you to greet me back” - son of a bitch, Y/n thought.  

“Hi Jungkook, good to see you. Okay bye then” Y/n was already leaving when Jungkook grabbed her arm. Gosh, this was becoming a habit. 

“Please don’t do that. Don’t pretend that we’re strangers over something so stupid. Don’t do that to me Y/n. Besides, don’t you know how dangerous it is to walk all by yourself? For a smart girl you’re pretty reckless” Y/n released her arm from his grip. 

“Last time I checked I’m an adult fully aware of the dangers and consequences of her actions. Thank you but I don't need another father I already have one." She was mad over his “something stupid” line. What the fuck. Were her feelings so pathethic? Jungkook stirred.  

Discomfort? Check. 

“I'm sorry. I'm just worried about you walking around by yourself, it's dangerous. As much as it costs you to believe, I care about you. You never had any reason to complain about that Y/n, I don't know the reason behind all this arrogance right now.” She wanted to say that he was wrong, but she couldn’t. Despite the fact that when he was with Sewoon he wouldn’t care for her at all (or so she thought), somehow he was right, she was letting her emotions get the best of her. Jungkook never failed her when she needed him the most and every time she needed to talk, he was the first one to open space for it. She was being unfair. 

“You're right. I'm sorry for what I said, I guess. Not that it's an excuse, but today was a difficult day. Thank you for your concern, even tho I'm already used to it. Don't forget that I work in a store that closes at 11 p.m and when I'm at that shift there is no type of ride home other than my two legs and little feet.  I'll be fine, don't be late because of me. Thank you once again" She started to move forward but he stopped her from taking any further steps. Again

“Let me give you a ride” She looked at him. 

"No need, I still have to take a detour, it will only get in your way. It’s healthy to walk, you can--”  

“Stop being so stubborn Y/n. I wanna give you a ride, didn’t you catch that yet? And what were you doing near my shop Y/n? I saw you passing by it when I came outside. Are you okay?”   

“What do you mean you saw me? you guys had just walked in, I checked !” Shit she just lost her disguise  

“I had to step outside again and saw you around the corner. I warned my friends I had to leave, hoping I could still catch you. Thank God I did. ” You tried your best not to talk about the girl who was with him and how comfortable they looked. Not that it was your business anyway, you had nothing to do with it and it came from you the decision to put a distance in your friendship. You were trying, you swear you were, you wanted to keep that distance, but for some reason fate kept pushing you towards each other's path. 

“I don’t know why, you seemed very busy back there.” She said it without realizing it and when she replayed the words that came out of her mouth, she wanted to punch herself.  Isn't there a day when things don't go the way she wants?  

Jungkook understood the double meaning of what she said, referring to the girl who was with him. He already knew she had seen them as soon as he went outside to smoke a second cigarette since the first one was "stolen" by Athena, his brother's girlfriend. They got along really well and she had just started working at the store. 

"I finished my sessions a long time ago. I was just waiting for Athena to give her something. She’s my brother’s girlfriend and she started working there a couple weeks ago. When I saw you, I found it strange because you never take this route and I wanted to make sure you were okay or if you wanted to talk to me now that your calmer. Now that I'm here, you have no excuse to walk home. Even if you need to go somewhere I'll take you, it doesn't bother me at all" 

For some reason Y/n's face became more relieved and although she tried to hide it, even Jungkook himself noticed it. When she said nothing more, he handed her the spare helmet. Initially he was going to help her put it on, but she took it off his hand and put it on herself. Y/n knew there was no point in insisting with him. After being friends for so long, something she knew too well was how stubborn and insistent Jungkook was, so she put on her helmet while Jungkook settled himself on his Harley waiting for her to get on. Then she started to get nervous, where should she hold on? 

Jungkook noticed her expression, so when she sat on the motorcycle, he grabbed her one of her arms and put it around his waist, pulling her closer to him. Y/n wasn't expecting that gesture so when she tried to move away a little, she heard Jungkook say "no", pulling her close to him again. Y/n's breathing was uneven, yet she tried to hide it, putting her other arm around him casually. She swears she saw Jungkook smile in the rearview mirror. When she thought she was back to normal, Jungkook turned his head back and she almost passed out. He was so breathtaking.

"Where to?" Y/n looked at him and said the name of her favorite restaurant and they started their way over there. Every now and then she would try to move away a bit, but when he noticed her presence further away, by "coincidence" he would brake, making her hit his back with her chest. The trip was based on his unexpected braking and her complaints about it. Anyone who saw them like this would think they were a couple in love. If only, she thought. 

If only 

La dolce Perla it was the name of the restaurant. Y/n discovered this place while walking with her mother one day when she came to visit her at her work place and since then she started going there, especially on her worst days. Shortly after she discovered the place, she met the owner and they became close. Jeff was a gentleman in his 50s, super friendly and approachable. He was her go to when needed comfort. Despite living there Jungkook had never heard of that place, but he really liked the aesthetics. Entering, they immediately came face to face with Jeff. 

“Y/n, my dear. How are you doing? Long time no see. We were already missing having you around." 

“Ohh stop it Jeff” she laughed. “I missed you too --.” she was suddenly interrupted Jeff - “Wait... Is he your boyfriend? Gosh Y/n, I’m happy it worked well for you in the end --” Y/n turned white and interrupted Jeff back  

“No no no. Not my boyfriend at all. He’s a – hmm- friend, yeah. Actually I came here to ask if you had any food left so I could take home. I didn’t eat much today and I was really craving your amazing food so --” 

“You could have said that already. Even if I didn’t have anything I’d have it prepared just for you. But since you and your friend are here, why don't you eat here? Today is a quiet day, we have free tables. Kara will direct you to the main room.” She understood Jeff's scheme and refused the offer until she heard Jungkook's voice.  

“This place is amazing and the food looks wonderful. You’re not gonna take this opportunity away from me, right? Next time I might not be so lucky and it will be your fault" And that was how Kara got them a table overlooking the fantastic outdoor garden. They were also at a more secluded table, with a little more privacy and without many eyes on them and perhaps that's why all she wanted to do was run away.  

Y/n made her request and Jungkook did the same. Kara went to deliver their order and came back with a bottle of red wine and set it on the table, winking at her. The atmosphere of the restaurant was wonderful but the tension between them was enormous. She knew she should have insisted more on him not accompany her, even if it meant running away from him, but he would think she was childish. Jungkook took the bottle and poured both glasses and drank a little, without taking his eyes off her. 

“ So... with all this you ended up not answering my question." Y/n looked at him confused. "Are you okay? I thought you were closing this week. When I saw you near my tattoo shop I thought it was a mirage, but then I realized it wasn't. You know I'm here if you need to talk. Or anything else.”  

It was then that she remembered Sewoon and her words, then she looked at the scene between her and Jungkook. Would this be a normal date with him? everything Sewoon experienced with him. She shook her head, trying to forget that thought. Fortunately the food arrived. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I changed schedules with Sana today, I needed to take care of some matters and... yeah, that's it.” she said, tasting her meal. Jungkook followed her actions before adding: 

“I think you forget that I know you very well and I know when you are lying. Are you gonna run away again? Because let me know if you do Y/n. I was devastated by the fact that you left and didn’t tell me anything. An “I’m okay” would be enough. We’d talk whenever you were ready. I know you have some things to say and honestly so do I. I’ll wait, just don’t push me away. I miss you.” 

Without any warning, her eyes began to form tears. It was a good thing that both of their plates were almost empty, because she couldn't take it anymore. She whispered "sorry, I can't" to Jungkook, got up and went to the exit. It was too much and she wasn't ready. It was all very recent. She would talk to Jeff later and pay for the meal another day. At that moment she just wanted to get out of there. It was for a short time because Jungkook was by her side after a few minutes.

"Stop acting like this Y/n. Stop running away and face things as they are. Face me!" He was so frustrated right now 

“What do you want from me Jungkook? Hm? I already told you everything. I’m in love with you. I fell in love with you and I’m so fucking mad about it. It could be everyone but you. That’s what you want to hear?” Jungkook felt a sharp pain in his heart. Was it so awful to like him? Y/n was frustrated but kept going 

“I'm not the type to fall in love. I always ran away from that. I never had a boyfriend, I never pressured myself to give in to boys at school and I never liked going out at night.  That’s Sewoon not me. I’m shy. I like to be in my corner. Maybe that’s the reason Sewoon approached me. I was so insecure and quiet that I wasn't even good at defending myself and that's what she did and we've been friends ever since, or so I thought at least. Then I met you Jungkook and--” The tears she was holding were now falling. “and you changed that. Don’t ask me how or why. I was so messy on the day we met and you still talked to me so nice. Never thought I’d see you again but the next day came and you were there and after that too and we created such a nice bond. I didn't want to ruin what we had, because for me it was rare and I knew it was impossible for you to reciprocate my feelings. Just look at you and look at me. You are the kind of person everyone wants while I am the kind of person no one notices.” Y/n was crying for real now and Jungkook tried approaching her but she stepped back.

It was time

“That’s where you’re wrong Y/n. I noticed you ever since the first day-. Why do you think I kept going back? I have a coffee shop across my work place Y/n- I- don’t you think it’d be easier for me to go there than to take a motorcycle trip to go to yours?” he tried approaching her once again. She let him this time. They were inches away from each other at this point when she looked at him with such an intense gaze Jungkook felt shivers down his spine.  

“I was going to tell you, you know. That I liked you. I think it was fate, because it was on that same day that you asked me to introduce you to Sewoon and I already knew how the situation would unfold. Sewoon is beautiful. You are perfect and it was just a matter of time for you to find your way into each other's embrace.” Jungkook felt like a huge son of a bitch with what he was hearing. Fuck, this wasn't how he wanted it to be. “I wanna go home Jungkook. This is too much for me to handle and I need to slow down before I reach the point of breaking. I don't want to break in front of you. Not you, not right now"

Jungkook nodded and kissed her forehead respecting her request. He could do that, he could wait. In fact he was going to wait. He let this situation drag for far too long and had to put an end in it. There were so many lapses in this that even himself was confused and there was only one person he could talk to other than you.

He grabbed Y/n's helmet and put it on her head, doing the same with his own. The rest of the trip was silent, but there was no tension anymore, more like a sense of relief. The only time she spoke was to tell him where she was living now. He parked in front of the house and helped her take off her helmet, grabbing her hand, stroking it. Y/n exchanged glances between his eyes and their hands. Once again she wanted to kiss him so badly and one more time Sewoon's words replayed in her head so all she did was give him a tight hug. Not for him, but for her, she was in need of that comfort. As she was in his arms she could smell his perfume. Oh - she remembers this smell. He's using the perfume she gave him on his birthday. Her heart was so warm from this.

Everyone talks about how little things are important. Those people were right.

Before Y/n walked away, she gave him a small kiss on the cheek. She then felt his hands on the sides of her waist. For a split second she thought he was going to kiss her and got a little anxious. She doesn't know if he noticed because after she heard Jungkook say "I'm waiting for you". Y/n nodded and stepped back, making her way to the front door. When she saw he was still there she waved and went in. Her heart was racing. What was that? Butterflies in the stomach? More like the whole zoo in it. Pieces by pieces the truth would come out, but would you and Jungkook find a way for each other's life again?

More important, would you be able to leave your insecurities behind and give in to the feeling you have been avoiding for so long? You hope so because you'd do anything to have Jungkook by your side. You can't have been the only one who felt the sexual after he drop you off. The atmosphere between you both was different and it had nothing to do with friendship.

You were sure of that

Tags: @esposadomd @joonlover1207 @eegyo @furrywonderlandwolf @minghaosimp @differentrunawayperson @nikkinikj @jksusawife @jk97bam @cryingoverpixelsetc @bhonbhon @lostinneocity @almostpurplelady @meowforluv @imagine-this-motherfucker @jk-190811 @cryingoverpixelsetc @11thenightwemet11 @rinkud @ayatie97 @jk-190811 @shaku1995 @blueberriesm @darkangelfei

[rekino2114]

How about 3 with fem kaiser and male reader

I imagine she'd give you a blue rose bouquet

Fem!kaiser giving you a bouquet and chocolate

Valentine's prompt #3

Prompts list

Pairing:fem!Michael kaiser x male reader

A/n:my first Valentine's Day post, and it's with one of my favorite characters to write for

"I-i'm sorry ma'am but we don't carry-"

"Tch"

Kaiser didn't even let the florist finish her sentence, a sentence that she had heard way too many times in a day. She hated when people repeated things to her, especially if it was something she didn't want to hear

"I should have expected that, this place is so trashy anyway"

The woman she was speaking to wanted to say something, but she knew better than to talk back to one of germany's most famous and important football players and people in general which was currently looking at her like she could buy this entire store 5 times and still have enough money to afford the incredibly expensive box of chocolates she was holding, which was actually very true

Kaiser sighed and simply walked outside of the store, not saying anything else. She sat on a bench inside of the mall she was in and ran a hand through her hair sighing even more heavily, she knew she fucked up and this was all just her fault.

She knew she shouldn't have waited until the last day to try to get the bouquet, but she was overconfident just like she was in football except that there her skills backed her confidence up but in this occasion there was no skill she could make use of, just the unpredictable mechanism of luck.

Unlike most holidays (Christmas especially), Michelle actually likes Valentine's day, sure it's cheesy and corny, but she can't deny that ever since she started dating you, she has become a bit cheesy and corny herself, giving you a blue rose bouquet every month with a note entitled to "my emperor💙" constantly showering you in praise and compliments and still using pick up lines even after years of dating but that's what feeling love for the first time ever does to a person. Kaiser loved you, and you deserved nothing short of perfection....which was exactly why she was disappointed that she couldn't give it to you today.

Her usual blue rose supplier had gotten sick and couldn't do his job. She was about to tell him to get up and do it anyway since she would still play a match while sick, but she didn't want to be that mean on a day about love so she just hung up without saying anything and went to look for blue roses in basically all of Munich's flower shops.

Of course, she knew that blue roses were very rare and literally unobtainable in nature. That's the whole reason why she got the tattoo in the first place, but what else could she have done? Give you normal roses? As if! She was the blue rose empress, that was literally her symbol. She wanted to get you blue roses so that every time you looked at them, you would think of her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her phone ringing. When she took it out of her pocket, she was relieved to see it was you calling her and not someone else to bother her even more.

"Hello, what is it schatz?"

"Hi Michelle, noa wanted me to ask you why you didn't come at practice today"

"Oh, I'm just shopping"

".....really, for what? You usually just send ness to do it or go with me"

".......well-"

"Speaking of ness, where is he? He didn't come either"

"Yeah......i sent him to buy something too"

"So.....you two are trying to buy the same thing but you're not together?"

"......yeah"

"....it must be important"

"It is"

"I see well I'll just tell noa you're busy and not bother you anymore, love you bye"

"Thanks, love you too"

The conversation kaiser had just finished made her feel even more guilty. You were just so sweet and perfect. The roses and chocolates you had given her this morning had already proven it to her among the mountains of other things you did for her.

You knew she didn't like receiving gifts, that she genuinely wouldn't have known how to react, but you still did it, simply telling her that it was just because of tradition and she didn't have to get you anything, but she wanted to, she wanted to get those damn blue roses.

She gritted her teeth as her anger rose. Why today of all days? Somehow, not being able to give you what you deserved felt even worse than getting a goal blocked by isagi

*ring ring*

"What is it?"

This time kaiser didn't even try to hide her frustration at however was on the other side of the phone

"K-kaiser, I found the roses"

"Finally! Where are they?"

"I-it's just-"

"Listen ness, I don't care what's happening there, I'll get the roses even if I have to kill someone to have them"

"But it's 800 euros for a bouquet"

"......ok and?"

"Isn't that......super expensive?"

"Yes and wildly overpriced. Like i told you, I'm getting those roses no matter what ,plus it's not actually that much for me, I can make that back in a match if I play well, and I always do"

"........o-ok"

After going to get the roses, kaiser and Ness went back to the bastard münchen building and were greeted by noa scolding them for not attending practice which Michelle mostly ignored as she told the magician to tell you to come to her room later.

"Hey babe, what-"

You gasped as the first thing you saw when you opened the door was kaiser holding a blue rose bouquet, smiling at you

"Happy valentine's day schatz"

"You didn't have to do this you know?"

"Yes, but I wanted to. You do so much for me. I would have felt terrible not giving you anything back"

She kissed you, wrapping her arms around you and guiding you to her large bed, where she placed the bouquet and opened the chocolate box

"Want some?"

The chocolates all looked amazing....and expensive, some of them had golden wrappers or phrases like I love you written on the chocolates themselves

"How much did this cost?"

"Please schatz don't worry about that"

She grabbed one of the chocolates with her fingers and held it out to you

"Do you need me to feed it to you~"

"I certainly wouldn't complain about that"

You opened your mouth as kaiser fed you the chocolates, you swallowed it, and your eyes lit up at how tasty it was

"So good!"

"Of course, I made sure they were all your favorite flavors. My emperor only deserves the best"

"What did i do to deserve you?"

"Just.....loving me"

Kaiser got close to you once again and hugged you. You hugged back as you let yourself fall on the bed with her on top of you. She kissed you passionately another time and continued kissing your face, leaving blue lipstick marks on it

"I love you so much schatz"

"Me too, I love you so so much"

Kaiser's smile widened as she moved to your right, hugging you even tighter. You were now fully cuddling on the bed

"Should I add the bouquet to the ones you always give me"

"If you want, I'd say this one is special, though. It cost me a lot, both in money and effort"

"Awww and you still brought it for me, you're so sweet"

"It's nothing, I'd do anything for you"

With those final words, kaiser kissed your forehead as you two continued to cuddle in silence. Her love warmed you up as you felt her heartbeat, which you knew was beating for you, the only person who showed kaiser love, her boyfriend, teammate, emperor, soulmate and now her valentine.

[ameliathornromance]

The Other Woman - Final Part

A/N: Here’s part three! I know you guys wanted to know what happened to the Guard’s wife so here it is; This will also be the last part I do for this series as I’ve got a ton of other ideas and I’d like to work on those as well. Anyway, enjoy the last part!

Since you’d left the Palace in the Human populated area, time went by in a whirlwind.

Your wedding with the Lord had happened quickly after leaving and was one of the prettiest events the whole forest – and some humans – had ever seen.

The Fae Lord had been delighted to invite and meet the rest of your family. He and your father seemed to get along swimmingly already, and greeted each other like they were old friends when your families carriage arrived in the forest.

Later that evening, after catching up with your family and entertaining them the whole day, you had asked the Fae Lord something that had been on your mind for the day, “how and when did you meet my father?”

It had evaded you how he had asked your father for your hand, and it hadn’t occurred to you to ask your Fiance until today.

The Fae Lord gave his signature grin as he raised a tea cup to his lips, “I actually met him the night I said I wanted to help you.” He explained, “your father was in a pub and I had snuck out to go and do some late night drinking. He was there and we just hit it off.” The Lord set his cup down on its saucer and frowned. “Although, it wasn’t until the next morning that I actually found out he was your father, and then had to work on my image before I asked him for your hand.”

You snorted, “yeah something tells me he wouldn’t have been happy about a drunken Fae asking for my hand in marriage after you’d been out with him the previous night.”

Soon, your wares and personal items began to arrive from the Palace and amongst them, were all the presents that the King’s Guard had gifted you. They had been thrown into one of your many jewellery boxes, the necklaces tangled together with the many bracelets that the Orc had gifted you.

They felt dirty, wrong to even look at now, felt tarnished and rusted with sin as you ran your thumb over the smooth gold.

Of course, you wouldn’t dream of wearing them, but you also couldn’t stand to just throw them away. Many other people who were less fortunate than you could benefit from the money that these items cost… but the thought of giving the people evidence of adultery filled you with dread, made your stomach churn with anxiety.

You explained your complicated feelings to your fiance one morning at breakfast.

He listened intently, before suggesting, “why don’t you send them to King’s Guards’ wife?”

Your blood turned cold at the thought. “Isn’t that a bit… callous?” You asked. “For her I mean. She’s probably had the baby now, and isn’t in much of a situation to leave him if she wanted… That and then everyone would know what happened between me and her husband.”

“Not necessarily.” Your fiance said, raising a finger. He leaned his elbows on the breakfast table and pointed at you, “it doesn’t have to be done in bad taste. If you send her the jewellery and offer her a position here, with better pay and better accommodation, she may just come here and decide to work for us.”

“But what if she’s angry with me?” You asked, worriedly. “That would be such an insult to her! I don’t want to do anything to make her even more angry than she would already be with me.”

The Fae Lord pursed his lips, furrowing his eyebrows. “You didn’t know he was married did you?” He asked you.

“No, of course not!”

“And you stopped the affair after you found out, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t change the fact that I did it!” You groaned.

The Fae took your hand in his, “look, you can’t control her reaction,” he said, plainly. “But, what you can do, is offer her compensation for the emotional damage she would feel from finding out. That’s why you would be offering her the job. She would be moved away from her husband, she gets better pay than she did at the Palace and her child gets to grow up in a place surrounded by greenery.” He gestured to the castle around him.

You stared at the polished wooden table in front of you. “But… what if she tells everyone that I had an affair with him?” You whispered. “I’d be ruined, and then we wouldn’t be able to marry, and then there’s my parents-”

“It would look worse on her.” The Lord said, “Of course, it’s bad that her husband had the affair, but she would be looked down on as an Orc, for trying to slander a person of the aristocracy.” He gave you a reassuring smile. “And I’ll be here to protect you, won’t I? I’ll make sure none of that does anything to stop us from being together. I promise.”

Now that you had gained some distance from the Palace you had contemplated on confessing everything to the Orc’s wife. She didn’t deserve to be stuck in that kind of situation, after all, it’s not like she did anything to warrant such an awful partner.

And so, with shaking hands and a clumsily written letter, you sent off the jewellery to the Palace and to the Orc’s wife.

The weeks after it had been sent off were like waiting on a jury verdict. Every morning you awoke in your bedroom, you expected the Fae servants attending you, to give you dirty looks or treat you coldly, as the news of you being a homewrecker, had spread through out the Kingdom and Forest.

And every morning, when that didn’t happen, you couldn’t help but sigh with relief – prompting some very concerned questions from your attendants.

You did your best to explain in the letter what had actually happened between you and the King’s Guard, and only hoped that his wife would be understanding.

You didn’t expect to be forgiven, but for her to understand would be more than enough.

What you didn’t expect however, was in the mid-afternoon when you were going over some favour colour choices for your wedding, that a Fae woman would burst into your office, panting. “Orc- woman-” she breathed, “demands to see- my Lady-”

You’d never abandoned an activity faster. Shoeing away the woman who’d brought you the favour colours, you asked the Fae, “where? Where is she?”

The Fae hoarsed out something about the Orc woman being in the gardens.

You practically dashed through the halls, leaving your own servants and the dignified stride of a Lady behind as you rushed for the gardens.

Finally, you reached the garden doors. They were tall, beautiful things, made of hard oak wood and harden sap panels for windows that swirled and curled, obscuring anyone from peering into the gardens.

As you reached for the twig door handles, you stopped just short of them.

Did you really want to see this Orc? Who was probably so angry with you, she might bite your head off?

It’s not like you could turn back now, after all, she’s right behind those crystal doors in front of you.

Sucking in a deep breath, you flung the doors open and stepped outside into the gardens.

You didn’t have to go far to find her.

The Orc Lady who you had seen in the kitchens, time and time again, with her kind smile and kind tone, was gone.

Instead, the Orc Lady stood with a suitcase in hand, a baby glued to her chest with a fabric cloth. The infant slept soundly, without any kind of inclination of what was going on.

Your stomach twisted as you recognised some of King’s Guards’ features on its face.

After a moment of silence, the Orc snarled at you. “Is it really true?” Her voice was as deep as thunder, full of murderous intent.

Pursing your lips, you lowered your head. There wasn’t anything that you could say or do to make this any better.

When you were thinking through your revenge plans, you truly had no idea whether or not you ought to tell the Guards wife. She was already going to be under enough stress as it was, seeing as she had to give birth to a baby in – what you judged to be at the time – a few weeks.

Adding a cheating husband to the mix, you determined, would do nothing to help her out.

When you said nothing, the Orc threw her suitcase at your feet. The jewellery you sent her exploded out of the case, scattered across the grass at your feet. “And you didn’t think to tell me!?” She shouted.

You kept quiet, staring at the collection of gold and silver at your feet.

“How dare you keep this from me!” She bellowed, “what did I do to deserve that being kept from me?! Did I wrong you in some way, (Y/N)?!”

Swallowing hard, you raised your head to look at her. “No.” You said, bravely. “You didn’t do anything… I was trying to think of your baby and your wellbeing-”

“And taking care of my wellbeing is keeping quiet about my cheating son of a bitch husband!?” She bellowed. She pointed a thick green finger at you, “that is not your decision to make!” She hissed.

“Well what was I supposed to do?!” You retorted. Kicking away the valuables, you approached her, “it’s not like I could out him for what he was! That would have ruined everything for me and you too! How would I know you wouldn’t do the same thing to me!?”

“Because I thought we were friends!” She snapped back.

You recoiled at her words. Friends?

The Orc’s chest heaved up and down as she rubbed her face, “I know that we weren’t exactly the closest of people,” she said, “but you were the only one who would come to the kitchens to purposefully see me. I liked having you around, (Y/N) and it broke my heart when… when he said I couldn’t tell anyone I was pregnant.” Taking her hands away from her face, she wiped her nose. “So I couldn’t see you anymore, or tell you. And I know that you didn’t know I was married, I can forgive you for that… but when you did find out, not telling me about any of it?” Tears welled up in her eyes. “And only getting that package and letter? It just…” She covered her mouth and looked away from you.

You stopped halfway over to her. You opened your mouth, wanting to say something comforting, supportive. But any kind of words like that died in your throat.

“I… I’m sorry.” you settled on finally. “I shouldn’t have treated you like that. I should have been up front and honest with you and shouldn’t have kept that from you.” For the first time since meeting your fiance, you cursed him.

You were right to think that his idea was cold. You continued your approach and placed a hand on the Orcs shoulder, “I know I can’t do anything to fix what I’ve done or change the past of what I did. But I can try and help you now and in the future.”

The Orc looked at you, her eyes bloodshot and still swimming with tears.

“Don’t feel like you have to take the job if you don’t want it,” you said, honestly. “If you don’t want it, I’ll be happy to do anything else to compensate what you lost – Hell, I’ll even find you a better husband if you wish.”

“I never said I wasn’t taking the job.” The Orc Lady said, quickly. She turned back around to face you. She wiped her fingers across her cheeks, drying up her stray tears and then cleared her throat. “But, if I’m going to work here, I want higher pay and more time off so I can spend it with my son.”

“Higher than I already offered?” You asked, slightly offended. What you originally offered was way higher than what the Palace was offering her, at least three times the pay. And now she wants more?

The Orc Lady crossed her arms, just in front of her baby and narrowed her eyes at you.

Sighing, you lamented, “okay, okay. Higher pay then.” You supposed that she had a right to demand more of you, especially after your affair.

She gave you a weary smile at you. “Thank you my Lady.” She pursed her lips, “and… thank you for finally telling me about what happened.”

The position you’d offered your ex’s wife, was kitchen work, but this time, she was head of it. Her son – whom she had decided to name Cogak – was a bright baby, even just fresh out of the womb.

You arranged for him to have his own nanny so his mother could work without worrying about him.

The friendship you’d had with the Orc Lady wouldn’t be like it was before, but your trying to make things better, was a start.

The Fae Lord had smiled one evening as the pair of you decided on what flowers would be at your wedding venue. “I never expected an Orcling to be so intelligent.”

“Well, he is getting a noble child’s education.” You explained. “Apparently, he’s already doing better than most children his age. And that’s comparing him to the other Fae.”

The Fae chuckled as he examined a bouquet of blue orchids. “What about these for the reception?”

“What’s your suit colour?” You asked, quickly.

As if your fiance was himself a bride, he’d been very closed about what kind of suit he would be wearing to your wedding.

One time, you’d walked into his office and he squealed, and threw himself on top of the sketches his designer had come up for him, like he was a maiden who’d been walked in on while getting changed.

His closed off nature about it, only made you even more curious.

“If you think you’re going to get that out of me that easily, then I’d say this marriage isn’t going to last long, my darling.” The Fae Lord smirked as he ran his thumb over the petals of the flower.

“Patiences is a virtue. You don’t see me trying to peek at your wedding dress, do you?” He smirked, slyly. “I know it’s a human tradition, but why can’t I follow it too?”

He was right of course, he’d been incredibly respectful about your wedding dress and preferences when it came it. He was also very generous, giving you a large sum of gold to actually buy said wedding dress, “all I want is for you to be happy!” he’d said as he’d handed, three, four, five, six pouches of gold into the dressmakers hands.

The Fae Lord had given you a smile and whispered to you as he left the room, “let’s make our wedding the topic of the century!”

Although you chuckled at his words, you didn’t want to outshine the King and Queen. It would be an insult to the both of them, given that the Queen had been the one who had allowed you to become her Lady in Waiting. Without her, you wouldn’t have met the Fae Lord.

So, you decided to keep your dress modest, but elegant. It followed the traditional white, but had elements of the Fae world you would be marrying into. Little details of moss, spider web glittering on the train of your dress, while you had a golden, wreath as your tiara.

On the day of the wedding everything went smoothly.

As you started your walk down the aisle – with your father at your side, “I’m very happy you caught the eye of this Fae fellow, he’s a good time.” He had whispered as you prepared for your walk – you caught sight of your family crying tears of joy.

Your Fiance, at the other end of the aisle, seemed to outshine you as the bride.

His suit was quite the marvel, and you now understood why he didn’t want you to see it.

The dark red fabric accompanied by a rose petal cloak, contrasted with his white hair, that fell down his back, and over his shoulders like sheets of snow; He looked incredible.

After vows – with many tears – and the sealing of your union with a kiss, the whole room erupted with cheers and claps.

The reception afterwards was beautifully bright and colourful, with Fae and Humans dancing together as you and your husband sat and watched from behind the head table.

The Orc Lady’s son – who had grown surprisingly fast – was happy to be there, surrounded by people who doted on him as if he was the main celebrant of the reception.

Your Fae Lord Husband didn’t leave your side the whole night, dancing with you and bringing back the memories of when you first properly met.

The days following were hazy. You seemed to be barely lucid in that time, thanks to all the alcohol present, alongside your husband who – you had found out that night – was a clingy, emotional drunk.

“At first,” he had slurred at the reception, “I was a little worried about asking you, like,” he stared at you, his huge black eyes consuming your gaze. “You’re so beautiful and, I’m just some mud Fae,” he gestured to himself. “Who am I to ask someone like you to dance?”

You had rolled your eyes and pulled him into your arms, silencing his self-deprecating words. “No, don’t say that.” You had slurred back, “I’d have accepted even if you were a toad!”

But once the drunkenness had cleared, you’d found that you were feeling a lot more sickly than usual.

At first, you thought it was just the remainder of the alcohol finding it’s way out of your system. But when it didn’t go away after a month, you went to go and seek a physician.

And after a few tests, she confirmed to you what you had suspected: you were pregnant.

The Fae Lord was over the moon when he found out and excitedly told anyone who would listen about your pregnancy.

And now in the present, as you watched your husband natter to anyone who would listen about the names he’d thought of for your baby, you realised that you had never felt more content.

This was better than any fairy tale or romance novel that you’d ever read.

You occasionally thought about the King’s Guard, and how he was doing. But that never lasted long, as you were often pulled back into the present moment by your husband.

Who loved and cherished you more than that Orc ever could.

Hi! Thank you so much for reading my story! If you like this kind of content, you should check out my Patreon! There, I post stories twice a week and earlier than I post on Tumblr. I also post exclusive stories there too where you won’t be able to find anywhere else.

If you’re not sure about signing up, I have a 7 day free trial enabled on my £2 tier so you can see if you like my work written there!

Taglist <3

@sunndust @greenie-c

[taelophone]

Oblivion ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝˚.⋆⋆˙⟡ — Luigi Mangione x Oblivious!Reader ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ CWs: Reader is violently oblivious like so clueless . Corny Flirting . Neurodivergence in Luigi . Slight angst ? ── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ I played w the fourth wall a bit lol

What is she doing to me, man?

I mean, wait wait wait—! Before you switch, just listen to me for a second, okay? I’ve been trying to get with this girl I love for the past three years, and she hasn’t even acknowledged any of my attempts!

If she weren’t into me, I'd expect her to at least bring it up later, right? Ask me to clarify, say she doesn’t see me like that, or god forbid say it makes her feel uncomfortable.

But you haven’t! Every time I make a flirty comment, you just giggle and say I’m too kind! I’ve never once thought I was bad at flirting, but are my lines just not hitting like they used to?

Even now, as I’m walking you home, you’ve got your arm wrapped around mine while I talk about a robotics competition I did when I was fifteen that ultimately changed the course of my life and sparked a permanent interest in computer science. But all that seemed to travel through Luigi’s mind was whether or not you liked him back!

You nodded, hanging onto his every word as the hard rubber soles of your pink Jordan dunks step-step-stepped on the thick and heavy slabs of concrete. He seemed to really like telling you about his interests and achievements— not that you didn’t want to hear about them— but you just wondered why he seemed to love talking about academics so much around you.

But anyway, that’s beside the point. You and Luigi have been great friends for around four years now, and things were just amazing!

He bought you little candles, cute room decor, candy, new shoes, pretty rings, necklaces with your initials, and your favorite flowers all wrapped up in pink parchment! He was the best guy friend a girl could ask for, really, but that was a part of the problem.

He was so amazing in ways that other men in your life had never even come close to being before. From remembering little things about your interests to all the many dollars he had spent on spools of plastic for his 3D printer, gifting you elaborate custom-made plastic trinkets and “forever flowers,” as he liked to call them.

He was smart, funny, witty, and left your mind melting in his wake every time he graced your mornings with a random Starbucks order for you to try. Now perfect is high praise, because everyone has their flaws, but if you had to use the word for anybody it’d be him.

There was no way in the world Luigi had his eyes set on you when there were thousands, hell, millions of women out there that could perfectly complete his complex puzzle of a mind. You weren’t dumb or dull by any means, but there were just better options for your best friend.

It’s fine, really. Not sentimental at all, no no really.

“What are you doing this weekend, by the way?” Luigi asked, his voice cutting through the amalgamation of crazed screams in your mind.

You thought, your lips pursed together in a lopsided pout as you flipped through the mental pages of your planner, each page containing some sort of mental note or red ink until you reached this weekend. Free on Saturday, but only after ten in the morning.

“I’m free this Saturday, but I have to drop a friend from college off at the airport. She’s moving to Kansas, so I should be free any time after, like, ten to ten-thirty. Why?” You asked, your attention suddenly being grabbed by a community garden just up ahead full of pretty pink peonies and daffodils.

He watched as your eyes locked onto the garden and its floral inhabitants. He smiled his usual boyish grin, letting go of your arm momentarily to jog over to the garden before you got a chance to even process what he was doing.

“Luigi—? Luigi, what are you doing!?” You called, standing up on your tip-toes and calling out to him right in the middle of Twenty-fifth Street.

You saw him duck down, his cocoa brown curls disappearing amongst the plant life and greenery. You crossed your arms, waiting for him on the sidewalk like a puppy owner would wait for their eager little Maltese or Pomeranian to return from their burst of energy.

When that familiar face emerged again, he advanced towards you with a handful of freshly plucked flowers. He placed them in your hand with a particularly girly giggle, gently brushing his fingers across the general petals like he wanted to get a feel for their genetic material.

When he was done fluffing up each bloom, he gently placed a hand at the small of your back in a silent urge for you to keep walking.

“I’m not sure if that was illegal or not, we should probably start walking,” he beamed, a light pink dusting the apples of his cheeks as he felt you lace your arm around his firm one again. “But yeah, uh…what was I saying…Oh, right, I wanted to ask if you wanted to spend the day with me at my house. We’d have to go grocery shopping but it sounds fun…in theory.”

You nodded, an amused chuckle leaving your lips as you scurried down the street with Luigi. By now you neared your humble little home, sandwiched in between two other townhouses composed of bricks of vermilion.

“Yeah, sure! Why not. I’m not paying for groceries though,” you joked, reaching in your sweater pocket for your keys.

“You don’t pay for anything, girl…” he chuckled, his brows furrowing together with amusement.

“Well, you don’t let me!” You giggled, patting yourself down from head to toe before you sighed from the depths of your lungs. You left your keys on the kitchen counter.

“I done left my damn keys in the house,” you huffed, shaking your head as if you were disappointed with your laggy mind.

“That’s fine, I have mine,” Luigi added, reaching in his back pocket and pulling out a set of keys attached to a matte-black key fob, a LittleBigPlanet charm, a little heart charm you gave him two years back, and a Ben & Jerry’s discount pendant.

He plucked the only silver key from the jingly set, gently twisting your front door open with a flick of his wrist and a click of the bottom lock.

“Lock your top lock,” he reminded with no real bite in his tone. He raised his brow slightly, a look of feigned disapproval as you giggled back up at him.

“My hero!” You chirped, throwing your arms around his broad shoulders and pretending to swoon over his large muscles. “What would I ever do without you!”

“Stop it,” he chuckled, his sharp canines glimmering in the early afternoon sunlight as your feet hit the ground again. “Get in your house, go.”

You laughed, squishing his muscles one more time before he manually removed your hand from his bicep and turned you around, giving you a playful smack on the behind that sent you yelping into giggles in the doorframe.

“Bye, Luigi,” you mused, leaning against the white archway of your home with a satisfied and impish smile. He chuckled along with you, clipping his keys on his jeans belt loop as he leaned on the opposite side of the door frame.

“Goodbye, culona,” he chuckled, gently pulling your front door closed. “Lock your top lock!”

You smiled, locking both your top and bottom locks following Luigi’s gentle reminder to make sure you’re completely safe when home alone. Once you were sure your door was properly locked, you kicked off your shoes and raced upstairs to your warm and inviting bed.

You stared at the many Polaroids on your white walls; some of them from college or high school, most of them stemming from your solo trips or memories with Luigi. From jumping off of cliffs in Thailand to stuffing each other inside ridiculously small spaces to see how far the other's bones could bend before giving clear warnings of discomfort.

He was the best friend you’ve ever had in a long long time, and you didn’t want to be stupid and jeopardize that. So rather than perusing any sort of connection with Luigi— as tantalizing and coveted as he was.

You sighed, the air rushing in through your nostrils and drying up your mouth as you exhaled. As the tasteless carbon left your lungs, the bitter flavor of unrequited love bit your tongue, the iron taste of heartbreak bringing you back to your sad little senses.

But it’s fine…he’s still around, and after a while, the feelings will gradually fade into sparkles of humor that you’ll be able to sprinkle into daily conversations. A mere powder amongst the storm of dust you would ultimately face later in life— something to laugh about later, and nothing more.

But for now, that wasn’t the main concern. Your goal of the hour was to get your outside clothes off your bed, take a shower, and catch up on some new shows you had been meaning to watch for a while now.

You slipped out of your jeans and top, unclasping the sharp and satanic teeth of your bra and flinging it somewhere around your room before donning a nice soft sweater and shorts. The gentle fleece kissed your skin, bathing you in endless amounts of comfort compared to the cheap polyester-printed textile of some SHEIN shirt you had put on earlier.

You spent the rest of your afternoon through the late evening doing house chores. Folding laundry, doing dishes, sweeping the living room, cleaning yours, and finally getting around to organizing your dresser.

When the house radiated Pine Sol and the scent of Yankee Candle’s Soft Blanket, you took a deep sigh before deciding to take a scalding everything shower that would leave your vision impaired for the next hour. Shave, exfoliate, wash, deep condition, rinse, wash, rinse.

And just like you assumed you would, you stumbled out of the shower lightheaded and dehydrated after battling the demons of self-care. Your baby hairs clung to your forehead, a hot and humid reminder of the war you had won as you wobbled out of the bathroom to slather on some warm vanilla lotion.

You lathered the silky oils across your limbs and soft stomach, sliding on a matching set of blue and white pajamas before settling down at your vanity to do your skincare. No sooner than you sat down, your phone began to ring and chime with your set ringtone for Luigi.

You propped your phone up against the mirror, answering his slightly untimely call as you dabbed gentle amounts of your Curology on your face. “Hey, Lui!”

“Hi pretty,” he sighed, drowsiness evident in his tone. 

His face was partially buried in his plush-looking pillow, a singular eye fought to stay open so he could see you on FaceTime. He watched as you slathered your skin shiny with products, serums, eye patches, and deep-moisturizing creams as you smiled at his little comment.

“I literally look like raggedy-Ann and you’re still calling me pretty. You’re too kind,” you chuckled, placing two green brightening eye patches under your eyes. “What’s up?”

“You do…not look raggedy, trust me,” he murmured, a sound that bridged between a scoff and a short chuckle from the front of his tongue. “But I didn’t want anything, I just missed you.”

“Luigi, you just saw me like…five hours ago!” you giggled, checking the time on your metallic alarm clock. “You’re literally gonna see me again in, like, twelve hours.”

“Yeah but I miss you” he frowned, sitting up so his back rested against the black wooden frame of his headboard. “You’ve been gone way too long.”

“Luigi you’re being a baby” you chuckled, placing all your cosmetics, cleansers, and containers in their respective places before grabbing your phone off the vanity and crossing the short distance to your bed.

“See, why are you being mean to me? I call you to say how much I love and miss you and you kick me to the streets?” He joked, his words enunciated by a quirk of his bushy brow.

“I’m not kicking you to the streets, I’m pointing out that you’re being a clingy little pissrat,” you teased, widening your eyes at the camera in faux shock.

“Pissrat is crazy…” he chuckled, a low sigh that drawled from the back of his throat and left his mouth a little drier than before.

You chattered back and forth on FaceTime until about four in the morning, and soon, the daunting revelation that you’d have to be up and out of bed to drive over thirty minutes to the airport and back washed over your brain like cold rainfall. You groaned, throwing your head back in near-violent regret before you exhaled from your nose.

“Are you okay? Hello?” Luigi asked, his brows furrowing together as an expression of slight fear and confusion donned his face. In an effort to placate you, he waved a single hand up and down at the camera in a little “calm down” motion.

“I’m fine, I just didn’t realize it was like…four in the morning. I have to be up in like two hours,” you whined, your eyes screwing shut as you accepted the somnolent fate that awaited you in just a few hours.

“Then get some sleep! Cuz then I have to deal with you in the morning, and you’re gonna be all cranky and irritated, then I’m gonna have to leave you outside…” he sighed, running a hand over his face to mimic genuine distress.

“So charming,” you huffed, flipping him off as your face buried itself into your pillows.

“I charm you every day, you just don’t know it,” he smiled, rolling his eyes in the most disgustingly flamboyant way his muscles could muster. It almost made you gag, both literally and metaphorically.

“Ew, sassy sergeant…” you huffed, flipping him off before blowing air kisses at the camera. “Goodnight!! I’ll see you in like…a couple of hours”

“Goodnight, pretty” he yawned, waving at the camera as his head leaned back against his headboard, the tanned column of his neck on full display.

You chuckled, taking a very obvious FaceTime photo before hanging up and giggling into your pillow. His face was so gorgeous— deep dark cosmos and stardust swam through his eyes, swirling with adoration that could kill you if you got too close.

And when your eyes fluttered shut you dreamed about him and his gentle chivalry. If gallantry was dead, then Luigi would be the very spark of electricity that rose from the ashes.

Sculpted by the clay-sodden hands of a helpless god, desperate to create one last reminder of courtliness in the dawn of decadency. Luigi, the ever-iridescent emerald buried deep in the sediment that aged and preserved his quality, birthing the emerald of Venus— a manifestation of her saintly love.

The slow pattern of your gentle breathing filled the room and slumber soothed the lingering anxiety that sneered and taunted your conscious. In the land of dreams and painless drift, there was nothing that could disturb your mind.

Except for an alarm clock.

The noise was loud, piercing, and obnoxious as your eyes just barely rose, a slow and undead hand reached out for your phone to press the big orange stop button on your phone. With a heavy and half-dead sigh, you arose from your cozy little coffin of a bed and stalked your way to your bathroom to get ready for the morning.

Hot shower, toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, edge brush, and a little bit of warm vanilla perfume were all it took to jumpstart your morning. You grabbed your keys and tossed on some pretty pale blue jeans and a brown zip-up hoodie over a white crop top before you wiggled out the door and headed to your car.

In just a couple of hours, your best friend would be pushing you around a cold supermarket while your limbs dangled out of a near-filthy shopping trolley as you mindlessly knocked things off the shelf that would come crashing on top of you.

The casual intimacy of it was almost domestic— it was like shopping with your life-long partner. The few times you had shopped with him before had usually ended up with you eating ingredients with him on his couch while he word vomited about the nutritional value of the different kinds of snacks you had bought.

But you focused on the now, helping your cousin load her bags into your trunk right after you pulled into her driveway. When you finished, you dusted your hands off on your thighs and shut the trunk with a heavy thud before checking your phone after ignoring it ever since you silenced your alarm.

mario💚

‘ Good morning <3 Have fun driving your cousin. Tell her I said hi! Btw I think we’re gonna go to Whole Foods. ‘

You giggled to yourself, hearting the message before shoving your phone into your back pocket to climb in the front seat. 

“Ooh, who got you smiling like that? Is it Luigi?” She asked, poking at your shoulder with a giddy grin.

“Chill, chill…Maybe,” you chuckled, pulling back out of the driveway a little messier than you would have liked to admit.

“Aw shit…we’re gonna crash and we ain’t even make it on the road yet. Lord take us, on her soul we ready,” She teased, throwing her hands halfway up in faux prayer.

“I should’ve left you in the house, on YOUR soul,” you fired back, a half-hidden smirk clawing its way to your face as you set your GPS.

“Didn’t you go to one of those fuck ass frat parties with him a couple years ago?” She asked, pulling out her mascara wand from her purse and touching up her lashes.

“Yeah, it was lowkey trash…like there was no personal space and music was shit. But I was really drunk so it got better,” you nodded, tossing on the radio to hopefully divert her attention from your best friend to something different.

“Man, if y'all don’t get married already,” she huffed, slamming the black mascara closed like the idea of your unattached state irritated her— skin-deep.

“He’s definitely not into me, but go off,” you chuckled, shaking your head at the childish fable she just proposed.

She stared at you, sharp from the corners of her eyes before a small scoff pushed past her lips. “A’ight, girl, whatever you say…”

The rest of the ride was spent jabbering about different topics before it was time to say your goodbyes, watching her disappear behind the glassy doors of the airport. After you confirmed that she had gotten situated inside, you took some time to text Luigi back.

“good morning ! :) omw rn just dropped her off. She says hey”

- Loved by Mario💚

You spent roughly forty-five minutes in your car, driving all the way from the airport over to Luigi’s with your music at a comfortable volume. You barely even had time to pull into a parking spot before the front door slowly came open to reveal your best friend twirling his keys around his pointer finger.

He waved, his sculpted arm flailing with excitement as you pulled up next to his house. You waved back, eagerly scrambling out of the car with a huge grin.

“Lu!” You beamed, jogging over to where he stood on his front porch and giving him a rather grand hug.

“Hi, pretty,” he squeaked, his strong arms wrapping around the small of your back and squeezing you into oblivion. Your sneakers dangled above the pavement, a shocked little chuckle rushing from your lips before he sat you back down on the ground.

“Alright, let’s go to Whole Foods, you can pick out some stuff too. I’ll pay” he smiled, making his way to his car with a very jolly pep in his step.

“I’ve never seen a man so excited about groceries,” you murmured, giggling at his little wiggly walk.

“No, I’m just really excited to see the most beautiful woman in the world,” he smiled, opening the passenger door for you with a boyish glint in his eye.

“Oh stop, I’m not paying for your groceries, Luigi,” you chuckled, giving him a shy smile before climbing into the passenger seat.

“No, that’s not what— oh you’re so…” he chuckled before closing your door oh so gently.

I mean, it wasn’t like his flirting was any type of concealed. He was trying everything! Italian nicknames, food, chivalry, casual compliments, everything!

But you just…didn’t notice. Sigh.

The ride to the grocery store was full of giggles, friendly flirting, and little side remarks about Luigi’s shitty driving skills— those for which he blamed your presence.

“I can’t help it! You keep laughing, and it’s making the car swerve. Siren song…all your fault,” he tutted, shaking his head in faux disapproval.

“I don’t know man…I think you just can’t drive. Might be because you’re Italian,” you joked.

“Okay racism, go off girl!” He beamed, snapping a very homosexual finger with a little face you could only categorize as flamboyant ferocity.

“Mamma Mia!” You sighed, shaking your head in feigned resignation.

“I will crash this car, don’t play with me,” he teased. 

“Shocked you haven’t already,” you sighed.

When you reached Whole Foods, you practically bolted out of the car as you charged to find a big shopping trolley that you’d make Luigi push you around in. You hopped over the thin metal bars, the cart clattering underneath you as you boarded it with near-lethal aggression.

“See, look. Crashing carts and all you did was sit down. Lord, take her, she’s ready,” he joked, his hands wrapping around the handle and pushing you into the store as you shifted your limbs to accommodate for the tiny space.

He pushed you through each aisle, letting you lean over and sweep things into the trolley with little regard for what you were even picking. Mango ice cream, tortilla chips, some fancy goat's cheese, pocky, and a bunch of cherry turnovers with golden brown puff pastry. 

The various snacks and ingredients began to pile on top of you, your midriff and bust while Luigi read off his little grocery list on his phone. He paused, looking down at you before giggling quietly, bonking your head with a blue box of fettuccine.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he giggled, pinching the bridge of your nose with his middle knuckles on his pointer and middle finger. “I think we got everything…I see you got yourself some snacks…” he mused, his eyes widening slightly.

“I had a moment,” you said, clutching a brown bag of lime tortilla chips that crinkled and crunched under the pressure from your arms.

“I see” he chuckled, pushing you over to check out and ringing everything up— freeing you from your crunchy cage of various kinds of sustenance.

He paid for your things, positioning the four reusable tote bags next to you in the cart as close as he could without squishing you to death. It was more of a task than it would seem, considering the cart was barely big enough to fit all of your being.

But for you, he made it work.

“Alright, let’s go do stupid shit at the house. I think we can try and make like…a vegan cake,” he murmured, rolling you out of the supermarket with an unserious smile.

“Vegan cake? Nah, you were right earlier. Lord, it’s my time, I’m ready,” you sighed, throwing your arms out in feigned disappointment.

“Stop it, vegan food is good for the body and brain,” he murmured, raising a brow at your innocent hatred for his idea of vegan baked goods.

“The only thing that goes into a cake that’s vegan is the flour…yeah nah. We can make vegan parfaits though. Or just eat carrots. Or just not eat?” You smiled.

“Actually, what did you eat today?” He asked, stopping the trolley in front of the car And unloading the bags into the trunk.

“Actually I didn’t eat anything yet,” you hummed, the realization just now setting in as you dangled your calves out of the little cart.

He paused, staring at you with a raised brow like you had just spewed a line of blasphemy. He closed the trunk with a heavy thunk and shook his head before scooping you out of the trolley.

“Yeah, no, that’s not an option…” he chuckled, placing you in front of the passenger seat and pulling open the door for you once again.

You giggled, getting as cozy as you wanted, even propping your heels up on the dashboard. When Luigi found his way to the driver's seat after shutting your door, he tossed a bag containing a cherry turnover at your head with one command.

“Eat. You’re hurting my goddess. You know what that’s called? Blasphemy. Shame on you, depriving a god like that…” he smirked, the engine of his lovely white Toyota Corolla. “How’s your cousin by the way?”

“Oh she’s doing great,” you said in between bites, being extra careful to not get crumbs in Luigi’s car— as eating was something he barely allowed inside of his precious vehicular baby.

“She was a little annoying today though. She said we should get married, but I thought that was weird because we obviously aren’t like that,” you chuckled. “I think she thinks you’re like…in love with me.”

He sighed, long and heavy from the depths of his lungs, his forehead resting on the black and slightly worn leather of the steering wheel as his hands gripped its top. You expected him to be annoyed for you, to pop his head back up and say something that would refute the claim with an uncomfortable chuckle.

“Alright, come on,” he groaned, his head now gently hitting against the steering wheel before he turned to look at you again with furrowed brows and a clenched jaw.

“Am I not your type? Am I too clingy? What is it, love,” he sighed. Wait what? Is he acting…? What is he talking about right now?

“Wait what…Luigi, what are you talking about?” You asked, slowly wrapping up your cherry-tasting pastry back in its plastic.

“Hi! Hello! Look at me, please,” he said, putting the car back in park and cupping your face in his hands. He looked like he was at his breaking point, the blows and slams you had taken to his fragile little heart unknowingly beginning to show on the map of his Sicilian features.

“I love you. So so much. Like, I’ve been trying to throw hints since like twenty-nineteen. I am VERY in love with you, stay with me, now,” he enunciated slowly, letting you mirror his body language as you nodded slowly.

“As we speak I’m letting you eat in my car, knowing it makes my skin crawl! I have a key to your house! You have a key to mine! My call log is literally just you…What is it, please just tell me. Are you not into me? Are you genuinely unaware…?” He whispered, his eyes dangerously close to crossing like he was in physical pain from saying this out loud.

“Oh my god, I had no idea…” You gasped, wrapping both of your hands over Luigi’s wrists, your thumbs flitting over his carpal bones with the gentleness of a newborn swan with their eyes freshly open to perceive the colors around them.

He sighed, a self-pitying chuckle tumbling from his lips before he began squishing and pinching your cheeks. You weren’t sure if it was to self-soothe, or if this was his alternative for shaking you senseless.

“Okay…This is me formally asking. May I have the honor of being your boyfriend?” He asked, a tired smile on his face as he gave you a half-nod.

“Of course, Lu,” you laughed, kissing the tip of his nose with a bright smile.

“Oh thank fuck, I was gonna cry,” he sighed, kissing your squished-up cheeks before settling back in the driver's seat.

And after he pulled out of the driveway of Whole Foods, his cheeks tinted cherry with a fine dusting at the tip of his nose, he could rest easy knowing that he was finally out of the friendzone.

Ignorance is bliss, and you were one blissful woman.

Taglist is coming <3

[newtonsheffield]

You've been kind enough to give a lot of Kate's coworkers' POV on the new addition to Kate and Neddy's family. What about Anthony's employees? What about Debbie? How is she adjusting to the changes she sees in her boss?

No but imagine being Debbie and watching this all unfold. One day out of the blue a gorgeous woman shows up and asks to see your boss. You tell her very politely that you can’t just allow anyone in to see the Viscount but the man himself appears and he knows this woman. Sometime later they emerge from the office and go to lunch. Your boss seems shaken when he calls and says he won’t be coming back to the office but you think “score, early start to the weekend.”

A week later you’re called into his office, and the man is placing what appears to be a drawing from a very young child in a frame.

“I’m just going to skip right to the point here, Debbie. Last week a woman came to see me-“

“Kate Sharma.” You finish for him. “Gorgeous, dark curly hair, I’d put her at about 5ft 9?”

He blinked, “You’re incredibly observant. Yes, that’s the one.” He sighed. “Well Kate and I are former…?”

“Please spare us both from using the word lovers.”

“I won’t say it then.” He said a little gratefully. “I’m telling you this because it’s very likely she’ll be around more. Kate and I have a son together.”

This doesn’t really surprise you. There are very few things that usually happen when a beautiful woman shows up out of nowhere. Privately you think he should be thankful it’s a kid and not syphilis. And syphilis doesn’t usually do drawings for you.

“Congratulations.” You genuinely mean it as he gets out his phone. A proud smile on his face.

“This is my boy, this is Neddy.”

He’s a cute little thing, Anthony’s eyes and ears and nose with his mother’s shock of curly hair as he grins at the camera with a tiny gap between his front teeth.

“Oh, he’s adorable. What a sweetheart.”

“He’s great.” Anthony says softly, smiling at the photo. “Anyway, he and his Mum will probably be around a lot from now on.”

“Family rules for him and his Mum when they call?”

“Absolutely. And ah her mum and sister as well. And he has a Nanny, I’ll get their names for you.”

“I’m happy for you. This is good for you.”

You’ve worked with him a long time, and his father for a few months before that. You’ve seen how lonely he became the last few years and he’s good to work for. He always has been. Some of your friends who work for politicians and minor aristocracy are treated very differently than you are but Anthony’s always been kind and generous. You thought he’d made a mistake with how many zeroes he’d put through on your Christmas bonus.

“Should I order some more?”

Anthony blinked. “More?”

“Frames? For Neddy’s pictures? And I’ll organise someone to come in and hang them? You want them to go on the wall right?”

The smile that crosses his face is sweet. “Yeah, yes. If they could go on the wall that’d be great.”

“Not a problem.”

He’s different, after that. You can see the change in him, when he walks out of his office whistling.

“Why don’t you take off early, Debbie? I’m going to swimming!”

He closes the office for three days so he can away for his son’s birthday and you get paid, none of your leave used up.

He stops you in the kitchen and shows you pictures of him and his son and what’s clearly a relationship between him and Kate who drops by from time to time herself. The way he talks about them makes your chest ache a little, honestly. But if it happened for him it’ll happen for you too. He’s honestly made you believe that.

[jclolz22]

multi bot release

i thought i’d release some bots while i’m still finishing up my next big release, so here are some randoms that i’ve worked on lately. i hope you guys enjoy, and thank you again for all the support and love!!

note: yes i am aware that for the kate sharma bot, it is a combination of two different scenes, that did not happen at the same time, nor did they even happen consecutively. i was mistaken when i first made the bot and just kept it the way i did it. also, whoever requested the professor!tashi bot, i love you because this one is a new fave of mine.

aubrey posen and chloe beale — recruitment

ever since aubrey’s mishap at last year’s icca finals, things went downhill for the barden bellas. now, it’s a new school year, and they’re looking for new members. seeing them at the activity fair, neither chloe nor aubrey can stop themselves from trying to recruit you and rebuild the bellas�� image.

cece parekh — in love (gn!user)

you’ve tried so hard to deny your lasting feelings for cece, knowing that it’s the best thing for both of you, especially considering the fact that she doesn’t feel the same way. at least, that’s what you’ve thought for the longest time now. hearing jess’ confession of cece’s feelings for you has you ready to find her on that mountain and tell her the truth. that is, until you have an unexpected visitor at the loft.

kate sharma — bee fright

your pall-mall ball, along with kate’s, got lost in the forestry surrounding your home, so you and her go to search for them. after spotting the balls, you notice that they’re near an area you’d prefer to avoid. kate went over to her ball, ready to hit it when you saw a bee land on her, sending you into a deep panic. the memories of your father flashed in your mind, and you couldn’t stop yourself from being overcome with anxiety.

quinn fabray — real you

quinn is discouraged by lauren exposing her past, yet you want to make sure that she knows you don’t care about who she used to be— you love her anyway and want her to know that she shouldn’t be ashamed of her younger self.

quinn fabray — reuniting (req./gn!user)

dating quinn was more than wonderful, but going to different colleges and trying to do long distance just didn’t work out. four years later, you’re both college graduates, and she’s more than excited to see you again. but when she shows up at your apartment and comes inside, the sight that surrounds her is one that shocks her all at the same time. she’s left with many questions, and wants the answers.

santana lopez — rumours

ever since you said that santana “plays for the other team,” it’s been the newest piece of hot gossip in the muckraker, mckinley’s student-run paper. it’s safe to say that seeing that in the latest edition did not make her happy; not at all.

tashi duncan — office hours (req.)

you love going to stanford, and you always enjoy going to class as you’re truly interested in what you’re studying. having tashi as one of your professors may or may not be your sole motivation when it comes to going to office hours consistently. well, every single day, actually. she’s even offered to provide you assistance on the weekends.

[starberry-cupcake]

So, I had some chapters ready to recap but I decided to wait because the last bunch didn't get around as they normally do notes-wise and I thought maybe you guys needed a breather from these, I know there's more important things to engage your time with right now, so I thought I'd stop for a bit because maybe I was just posting them too frequently, BUT if I don't keep them up, I can't keep reading, so I'm gonna move on and let it land where it lands ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ at this point, I have to go on even if I'm talking to the void. So, it is what it is.

previously, in nona del 9:

this happened

this is the general tag

CHAPTER 10 (shattered second house skull...yikes)

nona finally tells camilla about the surveillance situation at school

she wants to go back in the evening to help out sriracha girlie with it

camilla, because she's smart, cautious and all around perfect, tells her no

especially not after the whole shooting mess that happened that very afternoon

nona says she feels responsible for the kids and that perhaps the two other people she maybe is would also feel responsible for them

camilla says one definitely would, the other one maybe

I'm assuming the hard yes is gideon

last time gideon was sort of in charge of kids, things didn't go very well, though

rip the fourth

then they go eat and I don't quite get why nona is so picky with food

is it that the food is bad? or is her body rejecting it? or is she just a fussy child?

just putting this out there, if I ask things here, you don't need to tell me, I just ask to the void, it's fine

anyway, in comes pyrrha looking like crap but acting like it's all fine

she asks palmolive to help her get a permanent shave but palmolive says "I had the joy of working on a...body like yours, the once, and I don't want to repeat the process for anything smaller than a brain hemorrhage"

he was about to say 'lyctor', I imagine

not sure I know what this is referring to but please don't tell me

he asks pyrrha if it's "finally kicking off" and she says "not yet"

(wish this was just fiction and we weren't experiencing the imminent brewing of intense social and political tension every single day in so many places of the world)

nona goes to prepare a bath for her while palmolive and pyrrha fight about the people she saw being taken during the altercation she was caught in

she says she saw three adults taken in, no consensus on whether they were from the barracks or found in the wild

palmolive wants to go fuck shit up to save them but pyrrha says they (aka camilla) won't be able to fight against "two hundred motherfuckers with machine guns"

and points out that camolive aren't a lyctor

palmolive wants to upset pyrrha on account of her not wanting to do more to save people, especially since his house followed them there

and apparently camilla's older sister kiki was one of them

kiki is allegedly from the oversight body

which I have learned has nothing to do with the oversight of potentially having lost gideon's body

different oversight and different body

but pyrrha only cares about keeping all of them safe and can't be swayed into letting camolive fight

I get where pyrrha is coming from but, at the same time, I don't think it's realistic to believe she can do that

keep them safe, I mean

camolive are ready to spring into attack if someone looks at them wrong and nona is a child with a knife

but, in any case, you can't ask a lyctor for compassionate thought

not because they're lyctors but because some of them, including pyrrha, where there when this all started and were complicit in the fuckery

we'll go back to that in a bit

so, turns out nona can hear the blue light in the sky and she calls it "varun"

nona also tells camilla that she'd willingly go to the middle of the mess to help out the people they care about because she isn't afraid of dying

which smells like trouble to me, a kid with no self preservation

and camilla asks her why she isn't, to which nona responds that she likes the "letting go"

camilla responds that she doesn't let go, that is her thing

nona goes to have a bath before going to sleep and pyrrha has to remind her to stop flashing her boobs to the unsuspecting crowd

I have a parallel tally going on in my mind of who would be the most mortified about all this and harrow keeps winning every time

which would be extra funny if this is gideon's mind in harrow's body

JOHN 5:18 (ugh this guy again)

"For this reason they tried all the more to kill him; not only was he breaking the Sabbath, but he was even calling God his own Father, making himself equal with God."

when I named him doctor reverend instead of just doctor I didn't know how accurate that would be in the long run

dr reverend emperor john buttface says he doesn't like change

we kind of guessed that by the fact that he does inhumane things to extend his and other people's lives

he continues on his story of how he started necromancy by playing with two corpses he named ulysses and tatiana and how now he can make them do things with their whole bodies

none of this sounds great

gotta say, it's a good way of re-contextualizing the whole thing, though

because book 1 you are thrown right in the middle of the ninth and harrow is doing nasty stuff with bones and you have to just accept it and keep going

and then in canaan house other necros do other stuff that also seems wild but it's normalized, so you go on and you're like "ok, this is how things are here"

but seeing this at a time closer to us than to canaan house really brings it back to a "this is insane" territory

which I think is very effective narratively, especially to do it now

you're not here for literary criticism from me, though, so let's continue

he goes through who of his lyctors was religious to begin with, who took it as some sort of spiritual experience, and who didn't

mercygirl wasn't and was weirded out but moved on from it really fast

if you ask me, everyone moved on from it really fast, but I'm not a lyctor so I have no say in the matter

according to dr reverend emperor john assface, this was because they wanted to believe

because "everyone wants to believe that God's randomly made them on of the X-Men"

and, not to stop in a minuscule quote for too long and give more unsolicited literary analysis instead of memes but, this sentence shows a lot about this man

idk if this was picked specifically or if I'm reading too much into it BUT

out of every other superhero or superhero group or comic book character with powers he could have chosen, it's so interesting that he chose the x-men

because the x-men are notably different from many of them, especially from their time, because they were oppressed due to their powers

it wasn't just that their powers or their saving the world gig made things complicated for their lives, literally a big part of their narrative is that their powers make them a target of oppression to the point of persecution and violence

some of them famously don't want to have powers

and mutants who do have a good relationship with their powers rarely have a good relationship with society

but he overlooks that and only focuses on having superhuman abilities

and I think that says a lot about this man in just one nerdy sentence

because he's either a) overlooking the entire social context in which the x-men operated to only laser focus on their powers without caring about the rest

or b) he believes himself a victim and a target of society as a justification of being "chosen" to do what he did

since we're at it, because I think it fits the current book narrative and worldwide narrative

this is from 1993

ANYWAY

dr reverend emperor john says he knew, by this body moving thing he was doing now, that he could use this power "for good. Could be used to fix everything, used for you"

we still have this thing where he talks to harrow but as if harrow was around back then, so I think he's talking to ice cube barbie?? but I'm not yet sure what's happening

he also says the corpses were his batteries, which doesn't sound to me like doing good in general, just doing good for him, but anyway

they didn't want the people funding them (who had pulled the plug on them literally and metaphorically) to find out because they could be "used for evil"

so they decided to communicate with the people to spread the word themselves without anyone doing it for them

they decided to stream

cue to agustine and mercygirl as mods in the youtube chat prompting the command !sponsor to promote hello fresh ads while dr john shows the corpses

DAY THREE (CORONABEER MENTION)

CHAPTER 11 (fifth house skull, WE'LL TALK ABOUT THAT)

nona keeps talking about the pool situation, which she says is from her dreams

which doesn't line up with alleged harrow talking to dr reverend emperor john each time in between, but we'll continue

she says she's holding the "girl with the painted face" underwater and she is lying there but not drowning

but there are still hands around her, holding her

nona believes she must be mixing moments

I wonder if underwater girl with painted face allegedly harrow is where ice cube barbie used to be?

because a) it'd explain why she's not drowning but still underwater

and b) we ended up at the tomb last time in the end of harrow's book

and harrow went inside the empty tomb

WAIT A MINUTE

when harrow got into the tomb, it was empty

chains were broken and there was a sword and

fifth house erotica courtesy of gideon

IS THAT WHY THERE'S A FIFTH HOUSE SKULL IN HERE?

BECAUSE OF THE MAGAZINE?

pelase don't answer that, don't tell me anything at all, just let me fail

nona reproduces the way in which she's being held in the dream with camilla and says that in there it doesn't feel "sexy"

to which camilla asks wtf do you know about what sexy is

not in those exact words

apparently, she learned it from honesty

and says she thinks a painting of two flowers is sexy and asks camilla what she thinks is sexy

camilla says "eating breakfast"

camilla is sponsoring my apparel, this is the second ace tshirt with a quote from her I make from this book

nona tells her to ask palmolive what he thinks is sexy

my guess would be dying girls he never met personally

camilla says "strong work ethics and high test scores"

I'm getting a wardrobe out of this conversation

pyrrha is making breakfast and upon nona entering the room

or house section divided in a small space they call a room

she asks what they had been talking about because it "sounded fruity"

nona is onto pyrrha's bs though and can tell she hasn't slept, so pyrrha confesses that she went to the park

the park where she asked palmolive not to let camilla go

she says she didn't save anyone in a way that camolive would understand, so she doesn't want nona to tell them she went

nona isn't good with lies and I totally get that

pyrrha also tells nona to be careful about sriracha girlie because she was at the burn cages and keeping some sus company there

nona gets all mad about pyrrha saying that and calling her name "stupid"

I got mad at nona for getting mad in behalf of people she doesn't know anything about instead of trusting the advice of people she lives with

pyrrha doesn't insist much and nona says she isn't going to stop being friends with sriracha girlie because she has 0 self preservation and a death wish

as established in this same recap

pyrrha is then asked what she thinks is sexy and she pretty much describes commander wake

"love a redhead" she says

wonder if she knows what gideon looks like or if she's just still referencing commander wake

because she met her in harrow's body and I don't know if the oversight with gideon's body being misplaced happened after or before pyrrha saw her

DON'T TELL ME

nona says she doesn't think redheads are sexy, which palmolive thinks is important to note down

I also think it's important to note it down because it's more points for the "this is gideon" side of the scale

when asked what he thinks is sexy, palmolive gives the most boring answer yet

"those little outfits nurses wear"

does he have a thing for yami kawaii stuff? nurses outfits, sickly seventh girls? is this a thing for him?

or is this like the regular sexy nurse fantasy type stuff? the spirit halloween type stuff?

or is this silent hill nurse type stuff? the ones that can kill you?

I don't know, I'm gonna leave it at that, whatever works for you, my dude

we don't have time to ask palmolive specific on his fantasies, though

because the door opens suddenly and there's a GUN and a THREAT

love starting the morning with chill stuff

AND WE'RE DONE!! I'll see how I work through the chapters, they end up getting long if I wait too much but I don't want to oversaturate, which I was probably doing. Anyway, sending hugs and love your way ♥

[thislovintime]

Audio from Connecticut Public Radio, April 25, 2013.

“‘My parents were only-child type adults and their attitude when I was a baby and demanded attention, was, ‘Let him cry, he’ll get over it.�� As a result I’ve always felt a slightly abnormal need for extra affection. Until I was twenty, my life was overwhelmed by the pressures of discipline. The informality of The Monkees and the popularly of the show satisfies me.” - Peter Tork, interviewed by Lou Larkin for Photoplay, September 1967 “I had pathological self value. I really didn’t have a sense of it at all. I didn’t get why. I thought I had been picked almost at random. I didn’t have any sense of myself bringing anything except that character to the Monkees. What I thought they hired me for was that character, and I think to this day that that had a lot to do with it. I didn’t recognize how that sprung forth from whom who I really am. I thought I was faking them out. I thought I was handing them a lie and they were buying the lie — and so how could I value myself? Any time you compliment somebody and they can’t take the compliment, what they’re saying to you is, ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’ That’s the message that anybody with low self-esteem gives back when somebody compliments them. Which is where I was. All that played into this fame thing. And it plays backwards, too. The reason that I got into the fame game was because I didn’t have any sense of value. I thought, ‘Jeez, if I can get the millions to love me then I’ll be all right.’ I got the millions to love me — and it still wasn’t all right. What a surprise. Ha, ha, ha.” - Peter Tork, Toxic Fame: Celebrities Speak on Stardom (1996) Audio transcript: “No, no, no, I wanted to lose myself (chuckles), it was all about, bye-bye, I didn’t like the guy I was. I… the whole thing about—…do you want to talk about fame and why fame and charisma and why those things? Because I’ve been thinking about this stuff for a long time and we can get, it’ll get kind of serious if we do. The long and the short of it is that I don’t believe that anybody gets to be famous without needing the adulation as a substitute for reasonable affection and love in the early on. And of course you need, you need a certain amount of support anyway, you need parents who are—who provide healthy, physically healthy, and aren’t there for you at some—or at least you perceive them to be. I have to say, I don’t know whether my parents were emotionally neglectful; I know that I felt neglected. It may not be on them at all, it may just be a, you know, a quirk of nature. I’m discovering that I’m not built like a lot of other people In a lot of ways, but be that as it may, the sense of being isolated leads me to think that if I can only get the millions to love me then it’ll be all right, you know. And of course no amount of times that I tell you, or how many, how I go about telling you what it was like would prepare you to walk out and suddenly be in the middle of that. But in fact the rest of it is… I mean, it’s all human anyway. Nothing human is denied anybody human, basically; I really believe this very strongly.” - Peter Tork, Connecticut Public Radio, April 25, 2013