#as his father was very clearly cold and distant with his wife

[super-nova5045]

and if i said travis is a parallel to shauna

[fsfghgee]

Hello Feng! I just had a question for a while and I wanted to know your opinion about it.

How do you think Bi-han would behave if he had a daughter? I see a lot of headcanons and fanfics that portray him as cold and distant, sometimes even mistreating the girl because he wanted a son, even if she was born a cryomancer like him.

So…how do you think he would act? If you can answer that, I'd be grateful! Bye!

Hello! I know what you mean…

Personally, I see a lot of people who would like to believe that Bi-Han was a misogynist before mk1 just because of that single intro that is clearly a provocation to Frost, where she says that he should have been Grandmaster and he responds that he wouldn't allow female Lin Kuei. However, in the same game, he says this:

And this:

They ignore that Bi-Han's hostility towards Frost in mk11 is solely due to her inherent disloyal nature:

His refusal to accept her flattery and his hostility towards her is solely due to her disloyalty to Kuai Liang Sub-Zero — Kuai Liang sheltered Frost and she tried to kill him to take his place as Grandmaster — Bi-Han simply fears that she would do the same to him.

Of course, Bi-Han have been born of a powerful Lin Kuei warrior and growing up under her tutelage, unlike og Bi-Han who had a ordinary woman as a mother and didn't even grow up with her since he was kidnapped by his own father when he was still a child. And having the love of Sektor, born a woman in the New Era, in whom he senses a kindred spirit, places complete trust, protection and care. Influenced Bi-Han in mk1. He is definitely not the same Bi-Han from previous timelines. Not a single character in mk1 is (Hm. Maybe Johnny is debatable. While Kung Lao only has the same personality, not exactly the same origin of his og counterpart).

If Bi-Han had a daughter, he wouldn't treat her much different from a son. If anything, he would be more protective of her than he would be of a male child. Like, he wouldn't take her on high-risk missions. Not because he would doubt her abilities because she is a woman, but because he has a personal need (which some might find selfish) to protect and honor the woman he loves. This would certainly extend from his wife to his daughter naturally.

If he had a daughter, he would name her after his deceased mother.

If he pamper Sektor by giving her complete freedom to spend as much as she wants without even knowing what she is doing (since she's always surprising him), makes her believe that she deserves to be an empress in Earthrealm, shares the leadership of the Lin Kuei with her and listens to her advice (not orders, he doesn't take orders from anyone). It is to be expected that, at the very least, he would pamper his daughter. He would pamper her a lot. She would be his princess.

In the story mode expansion, it is shown that Bi-Han can be affectionate and attentive to the woman he loves, there is no indication that Bi-Han in his tranquil mental state (not angry with anyone or anything) is a cold or violent man. If he had a daughter, he would hug her, comb her hair, pick her up and give her a cuddle frequently.

Cryomancy is passed from parents to children through heredity, so much so that for Sindel, the fact that Kuai Liang is not a cryomancer is truly arcane for her. However, we know that it was Liu Kang's interference that made Kuai Liang born a pyromancer in the New Era (which implies that Kuai Liang could be just Bi-Han's half-brother in MK1 or that his powers were sabotaged while he was still in his mother's womb), but there being no reason for the same sabotage to happen with Bi-Han's heir… His daughter would be born a cryomancer and he would make sure to train her personally. Of course, he does not place as much value on cryomancy as og Bi-Han did, since he is willing to give up his cryomancer powers to keep a more destructive one. However, he would be proud to make his daughter a powerful Lin Kuei warrior and pass on all his knowledge about cryomancy to her.

Another difference from a son is that he would never physically punish her. Bi-Han would definitely punish her if she disobeyed or defied him, but never physically. He would just cut off some privileges or lock her up in her room.

As a controlling man (and protective of those he loves), Bi-Han would not let his daughter go on dates without knowing the person she was interested in and being sure that he was a suitor from a good family and capable of taking good care of his daughter. His daughter's suitor would have to earn his trust before had the chance to go on a date with his daughter.

Bi-Han would hide the truth about his father's death and her uncles' defection to protect her. He would not let Smoke or Scorpion get close to her for fear of losing her.

If his daughter were obedient, she would have everything she wanted. Bi-Han would move heaven and earth to give her everything she wanted. There is nothing he would deny her.

Some would say that she is arrogant, obnoxious and evil as much as her father. Basically, Bi-Han's enemies would be her enemies. And Bi-Han would kill (or die trying) anyone who attempted to hurt her.

She would be idolized throughout Arctika and in all regions under the control of the Lin Kuei Sub-clans.

Bi-Han would be a jealous father. And the number of suitors that his daughter would attract for being as attractive as her parents, intelligent like her mother, strong and resilient like Bi-Han, would give him headaches. He would get wrinkles from stress and get into disagreements with his daughter due to the number of suitors he would threaten per week.

If his daughter ever deserted the Lin Kuei, he would disinherit her. However, he would never stop hunting her to bring her back to the clan. He would never give up on her.

.....

[msfantasy]

Time Traveller

Summary: a short on how Y/n travels back in time and meets her younger husband.

Ominis Gaunt x reader

Ominis would typically wish that he was anywhere else but here.

Tonight, however, is different. Tonight the Gaunt family is joined at the diner table by a special guest, who just so happens to be a ‘distant’ relative from the future. When she first step through the manor, she had explained she is a Gaunt by marriage only to non-other than Ominis himself. He found it incredibly difficult to fathom such a concept.

Yet here we are.

Sitting next to her, he can smell a faint whiff of her intoxicating perfume. One cannot possibly smell this delightful.

She is obviously not capable of maintaining a refined composure as she continues to fidget in her seat as she fiddles with the objects around her. She often starts rattling off random pieces of small talk to fill the awkward silence which she is clearly not use to.

Ominis can sense his mothers growing irritations with the woman’s insistent restlessness. Afraid of the poor woman was about to suffer his mothers wrath. He reaches his hand out, placing a firm palm on her arm. He was about to gently tell her to ease up. Only she quickly shuts her mouth after muttering her apologies.

This takes Ominis aback. How had she known what he was about to say?

Regardless, Ominis mother makes an excuse and departs the dining table that evening along with his father.

Bored Marvolo bids a good evening, retiring to his room leaving Ominis and Y/n alone at the dinner table together.

“I’m sorry- I’m just not use to this level of quite.” She says leaning towards the milky eyed boy. A small smile crosses his face. “You know how it is… we’ll actually I suppose you don’t yet.” She heaves a heavy as leans in bonking her head into his shoulder. “Dear Merlin- I miss you so much. It���s odd isn’t it? Missing you and yet you’re next to me.”

“I suppose we have a loving marriage then?” He asks with amusement.

“Oh wow… if you knew what you’re like in future… you’d understand why that question is so funny.” A small laugh escapes him, finding great difficulty in imagining himself in a love sick state.

Ominis sits back in his seat, unable to comprehend a happy life. For such a long time, Ominis had come to terms with the cards life had dealt him. He was incredibly glad to hear that life does get better. “Please… I know you cannot overshare but please, tell me if I am happy… truely happy?”

The woman snakes her comforting arms around his shoulders and brings him into a tender hold against her chest. He was about to protest at her intrusive hold until he was cut off as she hushes his thoughts and pats loving strokes down his head. “This is how I hold our children when they’re upset or sick. Sometimes this is how I hold you at night when you had a bad day at work.” A blush of embarrassment crossed his cheeks. Surely, he doesn’t have his wife hold him in such a childish manner. Turning her head she places a chaste kiss on his temple the way mothers do when leaving their children on platform 9 3/4.

She’s so loving, so maternal, so safe. Ominis feels utterly safe in her arms. Merlin- he never wants her to let go of him, but she does release him from her grasp.

Her touch recedes leaving him desperate for her hold once again.

“Ominis my love?” She calls for his attention cupping his jaw. “I am filled with such sorrow, seeing how your life was. Just remember it won’t be long.” She stands pulling away from Ominis. His skin feels cold at her absence.

A colourful swirl opens up in the living room, a portal opens calling for the woman to return. “Wait! Tell me how I win your heart.” Ominis asked with slight desperation filling his voice.

A soft giggles escapes her lips. “The very first moment I beheld you, my heart was irrevocably gone.”

She steps through the swirl and was surrounded by darkness, she continues her journey in the aimless direction until a hazy imagine appears becoming more discernible with each step.

A man stands before her, his arms held open, patiently waiting for her to return into his embrace. Ramming into the man, she holds him in great desperation. “Offt!” He grunts at the force of her embrace. “You were only gone a day my love.” Ominis coos running his fingers through her rich hair.

J“A day too long.” She whispers as she buries her face into his shirt.

[licncourt]

I just found out that Lestat tongue kissed his mother, Gabrielle. I really like reading about complicated parent child dynamics, and I really want to read the Vampire Lestat to learn more about Lestat and Gabrielle's relationship, but the kissing thing is making me feel weird. I know it's not even the weirdest thing in the books (Marius is vile from what I hear). Still, what are Lestat and his mother like? Are there weird incest vibes in their relationship? Is there complexity?

You've talked about the incestous relationship between Louis and Claudia in IWTV but I was wondering what your thoughts are on the relationship between Lestat and Gabrielle in TVL?

I completely agree, the complicated parent-child dynamics are some of the best parts of VC. Lestat and Gabrielle are a really fascinating pair for sure, even outside of the weird shit.

Fortunately the incesty vibes are mainly confined to TVL. The popular assumption is that it was a way of demonstrating how vampire love was "different" and downplay the gayness of the books (maybe for publishers). Some of the pedophilia seems to fall into that category too for sure. The kiss is...very weird, but it doesn't go any farther which is a relief.

After that, it's more that Lestat's descriptions of Gabrielle are very strange for mother and son. He mentions her attractiveness more than once and even says they're "like lovers" (this is a common way for vampires to refer to pretty much anyone no matter how weird it is, it's not just Lestat and Gabs). He also begins to call her Gabrielle rather than mother, though he acknowledges several times that they're mother and son.

Some people have suggested that this can be attributed to their fraught and now reestablished relationship, neither of them sure how to relate to each other and Lestat desperate for his mother's love and approval, something he didn't get much of as her son. I do like this reading and tend to go along with it, but I think it can realistically be chalked up to Anne Rice bullshittery. What's more interesting is really everything else.

Gabrielle is from a wealthy Italian family, married off young to Lestat's father, the Marquis, impoverished petty nobility in the mountains of Auvergne. She's highly educated and very independent, someone who never wanted to be a wife or mother but was forced into it. She had seven children with Lestat's father, only three surviving to adulthood.

By the time Lestat (the youngest) comes around, Gabrielle has detached emotionally from her abusive husband and her children, becoming very distant, quiet, and cold, escaping the reality of unwanted motherhood and her abusive marriage in books and brutal practicality.

This behavior seems to be hurtful to Lestat from a very young age, and he describes how little Gabrielle spoke to him or spent time with him, largely leaving him to his father's whims and never bothering to pass along her ability to read and write. He clearly loves her (and she him in her own way), but she never allows them to have a close relationship. She certainly isn't maternal and Lestat is very emotional and vulnerable and needs that.

The subtle resentment is mutual, but they do care deeply for each other. Gabrielle encourages Lestat to leave home with his boyfriend and escape to Paris, giving him the last of her jewels to pay for it, the only way she's really able to express her love.

When Lestat leaves, Gabrielle has consumption and it's only a matter of time before she passes from the disease. When she's on the brink of death, they reunite in Paris after Lestat has been turned, and in an act of desperation he offers to turn her as well, which she accepts.

This is when their relationship get really interesting in my opinion, especially on Gabrielle's end. She's now totally free not just from illness but also from systemic misogyny and the obligations of womanhood in the 18th century. She can do what she always wanted to do, dress how she likes, go on adventures, read and conduct research, spend her time alone and on her own terms. Except here's Lestat, her son who she loves and who needs way more from her than she has it in her to give, especially now.

It's obvious right from the beginning that Lestat would be perfectly happy to spend eternity with his mother, looking for answers about vampirism, seeing the world, being everything to each other. That doesn't really change over time, it's Gabrielle who has to decide what to do, whether her love for her son is enough to keep her trapped in the maternal role she never wanted and finally has the chance to be free from.

For a while she stays by his side. Their relationship is much better than before now that Gabrielle has so much more autonomy. She chops her hair off (or tries to, but it grows back), dresses in men's clothes, hunts and relishes her new power, and that obviously makes it easier for her to spend time with her son. Unfortunately for Lestat, what he wants and what she wants start to diverge and they enter back into that growing resentment and discomfort even though they're closer than before.

Gabrielle is a wanderer and a lone wolf. She has dreams of traversing the wilderness all around the world, sleeping underground and living like Indiana Jones in the Egyptian deserts and Amazon jungle, something she never thought would be possible but finally is. Lestat isn't "rugged". He wants to see the cities, to find the ancient ones and learn about vampirism and live large, and most of all, finally be close with his mother.

This creates a lot of tension between them. Gabrielle feels guilty for wanting her freedom at the expense of her son, and Lestat is feeling unwanted and not good enough all over again. He's collapsing under the knowledge that he's still a ball and chain for his mother (especially on the heels of his catastrophic breakup with Nicolas where he was so brutally rejected).

Their dynamic is so fascinating because it brings up some really painful and sensitive emotions and situations. What is it like for a mother who never wanted to be one but can't help loving her child? What is it like to be the child who never asked to be born but is so painfully aware that they're a burden on their parent? Who owes what to whom? It's such a poignant story about a woman trying to find herself outside of motherhood and being forced to decide between her identity, freedom, and happiness and her child's needs.

I'm sure a lot of people can relate to that, but also to Lestat here. This isn't his fault, but he's being "punished" for it. He, like every other child, deserved love and care that he never got and he's hurting. At the same time, he's an adult now and doesn't know what he's entitled to from his mother and what right he has to want her to make up for the past now that she has a chance.

It's such a painful situation because neither of them is the villain here. Gabrielle isn't a selfish bitch, she's an abused woman who finally has the chance to be free. Lestat isn't a spoiled brat, he's a neglected child desperate for love from his mother.

Anne Rice never really explored their dynamic in-depth after TVL, but it's so rich still. There are so many implications for Lestat as a character from why he behaves the way he does in romantic relationships to how this trauma ends up passed through him to Claudia. There's so much there just in one book and it's probably one of the best parts.

[emmatgc]

Hi friend! Mm I have a question because I really don't understand and you analyze very well. I have seen posts saying that Tommy and Lizzie have a beautiful relationship, and that Tommy protects her a lot and that is what Lizzie needs, a love like that. Can you explain to me how they come to those interpretations, when Lizzie is suffering all the time, and bitter about her life and Tommy is completely distant, he is traveling all the time and he is with other women, and he is very unhappy in his life and in his home. What's so great about a marriage like that?

Thank you!

Hi friend! Thank you your question. My 1st question really haha Ill try. First of all, all their "interpretations" of their so called beautiful relationship are solely based on Lizzie's perspective or POV. Like, it is what lizzie needs, a love like that but how about Tommy, eh? See? already one sided. Second, I think they hold on to that "empathy" rope that clearly, we have to admit that Tommy cared for Lizzie as a friend or family, raising her status from a whore to a secretary. Though as a secretary she was still employed as his favorite whore, he still pays her so that relationship still though "caring" was still transactional. But for liz fans, that's progress. That's a development. Third, I also think that hold on to that "longer" years that Liz and Tommy know each other, again as his personal you know what. That is relationship to them and she got promoted. Fourth, all this boils down to them getting reckless and she ended up being pregnant and became the 2nd Mrs. Shelby. So, marriage it is. Not just relationship but marriage. Again, from the streets, to the table as a secretary to a wife of the most powerful man in Birmingham, progress, empathy and loyalty. Fifth, liz fans are like us loyal fans. They see her as a success story of getting what she wants. She got it and ironically, whines each and everytime. She knew what she got into yet still whines and for all the talk that Grace wanted Tommy to change, ehem Lizzie who they say knows the "real him" actually does a lot of whining for him to change. She doesn't get him at all. So, to add all this, basically for me, there was no healthy relationship nor a respectable and loving one. I disagree with the notion that they have a beautiful relationship. What they have was toxic and misery. What i can agree on is the fact that even Cillian said, loyalty, Liz was loyal to Cillian because he was her savior, she loves him. Hence, its for them understandable to be together for ruby and reward her for her loyalty.

Lastly, id like to make myself clear on this. Tommy tried to care and love Lizzie. They tried to make it work. But Tommy is Tommy. He rarely falls in love and when he dies, it goes deep. With liz it was very limited. He still uses her in their business and stuff not as equal partners I presume. A marriage more on paper. Yes, she was the longest "relationship" he had, transactional or not. But he was for the most part, a mean husband. A jerk, a cold and absentee husband and father. We always say, if SK chose to let Tommy fall in love again then by all means, we will accept even if it breaks our hearts because again that is the plot. We respect that and we are afterall sane people. But, it never materialize. Until the very end, Grace was cut above all the ladies and everybody else even his own family. To Fans or extremists of Lizzie should always ask themselves, if this was Grace, would he act like this? Would he cheat everytime? Would he leave after the funeral? Would he look like a 100 year old guy even if its Christmas? I know deep in their hearts they know the truth. They just couldn't accept and handle it. Grace even died and yet, Tommy x Liz were never EVER TRULY happy. He was never the same after Grace. What was everybody expecting after her death? Tommy went on with his life, he cannot stop but he was for the most part dead inside. Tommy didn't put forth the effort that lizzie needed. Its Tommy's fault not Grace though. Tommy simply refuses to love Liz the way a husband should. I for one was pitiful towards Liz in the later part. She suffered so much with Tommy. But to hell they call it a beautiful relationship and marriage? That is beyond me. But, again, its a free world, it is nice to express and i hope dear friend, i shed some light at least in their POV for us to co exist in this world. 🤣🤣🤣

Thank you again, my friend! ❤️

[crystal-moon-101]

Name: Eldrigma Nickname: Shadow Man, The Mystery, Forgotten One, The Last Tacenscous Age: 4598 Gender: Male Birthday: ??? Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual Ethnicity/Specie: Tacenscous Personality: Cold, Quiet, Stern, Focused, Intelligent, Direct, Loyal, Protective, Private, Vindictive, Resourceful, Alert, Empathic. Hobbies: He’s not seen to have a lot of hobbies outside of his mission of revenge, mostly spending his free time training, reading spells and upgrading his tools, weapons and armour. However, he does seem to be into stargazing, and enjoys reading a book or two here. Family: 

??? - (Wife*Deceased*/While very little is known about him and his species, it is discovered that he did once have a family, with a loving wife that’s name has yet to be revealed. But it’s clear he loved her, as the metal bands around his horns are actually his species version of wedding rings. He has not taken them off since the day his family died, and has no urge to find another lover.)

??? - (Son *Deceased*/Similar to his wife, it’s been found he once had a son, who was a young child by the time he died. While still being rather private about his past, Eldrigma has mentioned to Vesper that his son suffered from a birth defect, and he always despised how people looked down on his own child. So it’s clear he was a loving and protective father.)

Friends: 

Vesper - (Ally/Friend?/Eldrigma came across Vesper after she had a brief fight with the Omni Squad kids, almost dying due to her condition. He ended up taking petty on her, sharing his own mana/magic to save her, and in return she now assists him on his path of revenge, as no one has shown her this kind of kindness with the state she was in. Their dynamic is rather complicated, starting off as strictly professional, planning to part ways once they achieved what they wanted. But as time passes, there’s signs they’re starting to care for each other, being two lost souls that might find peace in each other. But with Eldrigma always being so distant, and Vesper untrusting of people, it’s hard to say where it might go.)

Enemies: 

Jay Tennyson - (Enemies/Admitly, out of anyone in the Omni Squad, Eldrigma seems to not like fighting Jay the most. He sees the boy as a good person, one with ideals that wants people to follow, and appreciates the kind and forgiving person he is. But sadly they are always bound to fight, with Jay always wanting to get in the way, trying to learn more about Eldrigma, believing he can help. It’s a complicated villain vs hero dynamic, but not even Jay can make Eldrigma stop his path of vengeance.)

Thea Levin - (Enemies/While he doesn’t like fighting Thea, like the rest of the crew, he’s not particularly fond of her either. She’s loud, brash, and clearly doesn’t understand that things she says can sound more rude or hateful than she realises. Given Thea seems to have an issue of seeing things black and white, it sets Eldrigma off, reminding him too much of certain incidents in his past. Also doesn’t help that she is an anodite, another creature from his grim past.)

Malax Shard - (Enemies/He is rather conflicted with Malax, because on one hand her two alien sides he hates, having connections to his past. But on the other hand he knows she is not to be planned for what happened to him, and does take into account how good she is as a leader and person, respecting her choice to fight and protect. So he often stays quiet around her, unsure what to say to her.)

Rook Rilla - (Enemies/He interacts with her the least out of the team, but they still have their opinions on each other. While she can be standoffish, he can tell she is a caring person, given she is the team’s medic. He’s seen her throw herself in danger to protect people, often innocents around them, and that sometimes makes him hesitate. Unlike the others on the team, she can’t really fight him, so he never feels fair to get her involved. But if she chooses to, he can’t really stop her, as she too will get in his way.)

Vanessa - (Enemies/Like Thea, he doesn’t seem too fond of her. Both because of her heratidy and because of her actions and personality. She’s flighty, unsure, and sometimes pushes her luck, with him finding her childish at times. He can respect that she is willing to help out the group when they need it, but highly doubts she has what it takes to be the ruler of Ledgerdomain one day, not unless she cleans up her act.)

Many Alien Species - (Enemies/Whatever happened in his past seems to be connected to many alien species across the galaxy. Such as anodites, galvans, necrofriggins and so on. It’s unknown as to how many he has issues with, or what connects them, but it’s clear he’s out for revenge, and that they did something to him a long time ago. Something that seems to have been erased by history somehow, and it looks like he wants to put them through the same treatment. He sometimes loses his cool around these people, especially those in leadership positions, or old enough to know what might be going on.)

Representing Song: Conquest of Spaces - Woodkid

Skills: Natural Magic/Spell Casting, Enhanced Intelligence, Flight, Natural Strength/Endurance, Knowledgeable On Technology (Even from other races), Crafting/Creating, Minor Regeneration, Represents/Has Powers in Biology, Magic and Technology, Multilinguist, Marksmanship, The gems that grow in between his horns can be harvested to make talismans and runes, Prehensile Tail, Anti-Magic Cloak. Weakness/Flaws/Fears: He does seem to suffer from a form of PTSD and Depression, still dealing with grief and anger from his past. He can sometimes lose his cool around certain people, making him briefly lose control over himself. While he can regrow the gems in between his horns, if he loses them all his magic will struggle to work properly. He’s not good with connecting with people, even someone like Vesper, preferring to suffer silently, and never wants to choose another option that isn’t revenge.

[tomyo]

I watched Trap and it was wild.

Spoilers ahead

Its weird because my cohorts said it was bad but also were more quiet during the movie than they were for Beetlejuice 2 (we were at a double feature). I think overall it had a lot of potential but it went in to many directions.

For those who want to know the twist, I guess it is either one of two things; 1. His wife set him up or 2. He just keeps not getting caught. But okay let's explain 2.

Basically it's everything the trailer promises you; he's in the concert, it's ridiculously covered with police, he notices and tries to escape. Now let me explain all the ways he tries to get out JUST at the concert (yes he does get out). First he starts trying to get out normally, drags his daughter around and scopes all exits, pushes over a drunk woman down some stairs to distract the guards and then leave except there are so many officers they are immediately covered by more, so he starts collecting a bunch to figure out how to get out, he befriends the t shirt seller, he goes in back to get more shirts with him, steals his card, learns there's a special password he has to give, uses the card to go into the break room, listens in on a police briefing, pretends to get coffee, somehow knows where the sugar is to give to an officer, steals a radio (mind you there is enough guards to be more than all of Philadelphia's squad and yes I'm aware how large that number is), tries to convince his daughter to dive into the trap door that opened audience side in the stadium (why would they allow that if they're so militant about catching him?), he finds out there's a profiler who is basically L, steals a bracelet from a different attendee to cover his tiny arm tattoo they somehow identified was on him, almost pulls a fire alarm until the profiler mentions that over the radio, sets off an glass oil explosion just to distract guards so he can get an apron, goes on the roof, pretends he's crying over the girl who got mailed, finds out there's a card he also is supposed to have, lucks out the apron had a wallet, asks about the profiler and the fucking swat team tells him despite his sudden coldness despite how scarred he is, at some point he tells his 12 year old daughter to meet him at a distant meeting spot if he doesn't come back, tells m night shamalan's character that his daughter has leukemia that she hates acknowledging so she will get taken back stage, administers first aid to a preteen who fainted back stage (he is a firefighter), notices the pop star needs an inhaler yet never uses that info, and despite somehow them all being extremely aware one of the men in the audience in the killer, convinces the pop star to go into her dressing room alone with him.

Now my friends and I were cracking theories the whole time (this was a drive in so we were able to talk in a more private space) and at some point I assumed that this was the whole trap, the profiler was clearly aware of his likely actions about as soon as he came up with them. I was banking on the idea that the t shirt seller, the guards, and the info back stage were the only people getting out was a very intentional goal to lead him into getting caught. I thought it would be so smart to say "This whole time the way out was actually the trap."

But no, what happens next is he reveals himself as the butcher to the popstar and tells her he will kill the guy via his phone if she doesn't get him out of there. So she does, she actually drives him and his daughter out but then does a smart move in asking to drop them off at their house. And suddenly everything is using pov shots from the popstar's view. And AGAIN it's almost smart, it's like we are parrelelling his attempt to escape with her attempt to catch him. There's all these suggestions of themes; he has some mommy issues and it's suddenly also a plot point he is OCD (they really just drop it in out if no where and it becomes suddenly really relevant) and she doesn't know her father. It's almost like her fatherlessness and him being a father is meant to mean something or his mommy issues that people use against him are meant to mean something. And she theoretically does smart things; she puts him in a situation where his phone is close enough for her to grab, she locks herself with it in the bathroom pretty haphazardly but it's okay cuz she's panicked, and after getting info from the captive, she goes on live and uses her star power to crowd source finding the victims location.

Now here's where another "this is the theme" moment really could have played out. All while this concert is going on there are thousands of phones being used to capture the concert and certainly would catch some of the butcher acting weird. It's easy to say even if he escaped, he still would've been caught by camera right? That is an easy answer to how he could've been foiled but still create a surprise. But I mean okay, instead we have the guy that can do everything against the sheer number of the police force and now the size of a pop star following. Wow! The power of the community he terrorized takes him down I guess.

So finally caught with the police called on him, the killer locks his family upstairs and tries to take the popstar hostage. She tries to play mental games with him by acting like his mother but it doesn't work. I hear this as a critique of her acting but I think it's find that she's a little bad at it because I don't think the average pop star would be good at going up against a serial killer. They open the garage door and GASP the family is blocking the escape, they got out by going down the tree next to the house. Unable to flee, he goes inside and starts doing the chores that needed doing. He's caught? Wait no, there's a secret exit and he somehow quickly dressed up like a police officer and drove off in the popstar's limo with her in it again. He handcuffs her and drives her through downtown to get to his safe house. But again, she manages to get out of the situation because she opens the window and begs for help so her fans surround the car. The police come, surround the car and shoot it except YES, he escaped AGAIN. This is like 5 minutes apart from the garage convo.

So we are back at his house where his wife is waiting and promptly 3 seconds after she is told she is safe here, he appears in the kitchen ranting about how he realizes she ratted him out and that's how they knew he was going to the concert. She begs him to finish their daughter's celebration pie together before he kills the both of them only to GASP realize she doped him with his own arsenal of sedatives. He's out! Sort of. He hears his mother and walk towards her excepts it was the profiler (she's an old lady with roughly similar features) and he gets tazed like, so many times. He's finally handcuffed but dang that OCD, he begs them to let him stand up his daughter's bike which????? They allow??????? Why??????.

And yes, we finally hit the final final end, he's in the heavily armored transport but he stole a spoke and uses it to uncuff himself, supposedly going to get out AGAIN.

Somewhere in this jumble of two puzzles mixed together there was good stories and good elements but I can only describe the plot as that one fanfic author who finishes the original premise of their opus fic only to try and start a new arc and fumble, ending arc 1 in 36 chapters and arc 2 in 4 which is also the end of the whole story. A good narrative that just didn't know how to end or if it should end.

The biggest fault of the movie is mistaking the story climax for does he get caught when it really was does he get out. The moment he made it out of the stadium it should have started to wrap up and instead it just kept going on. Like a half of the movies just kept going on.

And now a toast to all the dropped side plots; the image of his mom the butcher kept hallucinating, the butcher's MO, the popstar's struggles and why they were important to bring up, the daughter who apparently was on bad terms with her sort of friends, the sort of friend's mother aggressively trying to defend her daughter for being a bitch, any presence you were supposed to feel from the profiler, the set up to him using doping powder (how funny it is that he didn't just use it in the coffee scene because that's what I was suspecting), the whole point in learning a bunch about the killer's victims.

Still I think this movie is certainly consumable but idk why it just focused on the wrong things. People think it's the nepotism or something you should be mad at but I'm more upset that it went so beyond the scope of the concert. The constant perspective changes towards the end was hard. Of various guesses we also made, the mom who was the betrayer was made (which was right), the daughter exposing her own father, the mom/family all being killers, and that this was a part of the split universe (because holy shit he should not be escaping as much as he did) were all guessed.

Yeah that's it, it's a movie. It's a watchable movie and maybe even a good movie at points but it becomes frustrating at other ones. Hope this fufills someone's curiosity.

[mirza-majoris]

Chapter 4 : Train trip

The compartment of the wagon was oddly silent. Well, in fact, neither Ray, nor Leon nor Hershel had anything to say. Or rather they wanted to say a lot of things but they didn't dare to, mostly because they didn't know where to begin.

Hershel was still wondering how Ray had managed to got them a compartment without any reservation, but deep down he already had the beginning of an answer, and it was not all about being legal. For now, and because he hadn't slept very well during the previous night, he was sleeping on the bench seat, with his father's own coat to keep him warm and cosy, after having watched the landscape running outside for quite some time.

Leon was staring at the Scottish man, sitting next to his son and making sure his plushy wasn't going to fall from his son's embrace. His eyes were more tired than before and he had crossed his arms, not ready to let any emotion pierce again through his face. He was thankful indeed, because without him they would be taken to the Nest already, but he was also very distant and worried, because it wasn't common to know Targent, and less common was Ray's abilities. Leon had been trapped in this bloody tower for weeks with his wife and, even if he hated to admit it, Targent's soldiers were good. Very good. And from what he had understood when they quickly got a few explanations while waiting for the train, Ray put four of them to sleep with no apparent difficulties, which was... almost impossible. And the man who was aiming at him seemed to know him well, and to be afraid of him too.

–Are ye goin' to stare at me like this for long, sassenach ?

Leon jolted. Ray didn't even looked at him, he was still looking at the fields, behind the window, and he knew perfectly well what Bronev was thinking in this instant. And in fact, the English archaeologist sighed and looked away.

–Stop calling me that.

Ray smiled a bit.

–Calling ye what ?

–That thing, "sasnar". What does it even mean ?

The man in the leather jacket chuckled and rolled his eyes before looking at the English man. His eyes were tired indeed but he refused to sleep, to have an eye on his son and to have an eye on him too.

–"Sassenach", it means "stranger". Or "English". To Scots, it's the same. Also, A think this name suits ye well since A'm sure ye're English at least. "Nikolaï" huh ?

Leon's face grew more serious and his eyes were almost as cold as a statue in the middle of a winter storm. This was a very sensitive topic indeed but they had to talk about it, or else their alliance was meant to end quickly. Judging by the man's willingness to protect Hershel, and how he looked at him, he had principles and a moral code, and he seemed reliable regarding Targent and his hatred toward this terrorist organisation.

–You heard him, huh...

–Leon Bronev, the famous Azran expert. Ye disappeared from a li'le village near Stansbury with yer wife, 2 years ago. And ye are one of the very few people to have escaped Targent.

Ray paused and stared at Leon who was livid and pulling his son closer from his side, as to protect him from an invisible menace. The Scottish man sighed and looked back through the window.

–Sorey...

–To anyone else, I'm Nikolaï Sycamore and he's my son Desmond. As for you, I'm still concerned about my son's safety since tonight you were clearly out of these agents' league. "Ray", seriously ? That's merely a nickname.

He smiled a bit, bitter, and sighed. This situation was really awkward and making them both uncomfortable but they had to adress the issue because it was the key to build a mere sense of confidence. However, the other man seemed to brush off the idea of talking about his name and focused back on a more important topic.

–Ye're not bad either. Nice hook, by the way.

–Thanks but... you're avoiding the topic. Why are you helping us ? You could've let us go on our own and then go on your own as well.

That question wasn't surprising, and somehow Ray was waiting for it. But even if he was prepared to hear it, he had no answer which would be satisfying enough to give to the archaeologist. This was his sensitive topic, the one he wasn't comfortable with, because the answer was also very unsatisfying for him as well.

–I... made some very questionable choices in the past... and...

He paused for a few seconds and stared at Hershel, or rather Desmond, who was sleeping under the coat and close to his father, before looking away again. In his eyes, Leon was certain to have spotted some guilt.

–Let's just say that I seek redemption... for the people I hurt. And I hope I'll achieve it someday...

Another long and heavy silence. Leon observed the man sitting in front of him with curiosity and yet with the clear impression that he was trying to hide the elephant in the room. And it was working rather well indeed since he had no idea what it could be. But the voice and the eyes of that strange Scottish biker were everything but full of lies. Deep inside, the English archaeologist knew his newly found ally was truly trying to make amend for something that happened in his life.

Ray sighed again but his dark eyes stared at Leon for some time before he finally decided to keep going.

–The past, A don't care. Ye want to be called Nikolaï, A'll call ye Nikolaï, same for yer boy, A'll call him Desmond. But for now... we need to head to somewhere safe. And nowhere will be, unless we put as much distance as possible between us and them.

Leon sighed again and kept his son close while looking outside. The sky was slowly starting to be covered with grey clouds and the air seemed to get colder. Judging by the direction the train took, and by the fact that they needed to head far away from London, they were probably heading north.

To break a bit with the heavy topic, Leon focused back on a lighter matter.

–You're wrong though. I'm not entirely English.

Ray raised an eyebrow. Leon rolled his eyes a bit playfully.

–My father was from Saint Petersburg.

Both men looked at each other before chuckling a bit, to ease a bit that pression that had been concentrated for a few hours now. Ray couldn't believe it.

–Ye're English AND Russian, fer God's sake !

–Da ! Now hush, you'll wake my son up...!

But the more he was thinking about it and the more they both wanted to laugh because that sounded like something absolutely uninteresting and yet oddly funny in this particular context. Ray shook his head and kept going.

–Well, as fer me, A owe ye the truth... Me real name's Raymond and I hate it.

–Oh... it explains a few things.

–Is that so ?

–...In fact no, it's just so... so not Scottish-sounding. Sounds like a French waiter at the Ritz.

They both began to laugh again after a glare from the Scottish man. This sounded rather strange to Leon, to hear himself laugh, because it had been weeks since the last time he truly was able to release all that stress. However, they had to come back to focusing on serious matters.

–I see... But it will still be rather risky and probably hard since being a single father with a young son is rather tough these days.

–We could... be roomates ? Flatmates ? A dunno, what do ye call two people livin' together and both paying the rent ?

If there was any kind of idea that was supposed to be crossing Leon's mind right now, it was certainly not this one ! In fact, this sounded so uncommon and unpredictable that he lost an instant to stare, his mouth wide opened and his eyes round and more round even.

–I beg your pardon ?

Ray raised and eyebrow and his shoulders.

–What ? Can't we somehow make it work ? A'm broke, A can't afford to live in a house by meself. And ye can't take good care of yer boy without an ally. It doesn't sound so crazy to me.

Leon stared at the man, his face, his eyes, his leather jacket, his position on the bench -quite relaxed, occupying the space he had- and his attitude until now and suddenly he began to laugh a bit, and the more he was thinking of the man as a "normal man doing normal things in a normal house", he couldn't help but to laugh a bit louder. This was enough for Desmond to yawn a little and open one eye, then the other, and looking at both adults who seemed to have been discussing important matter during his little nap.

–Hmm ?... Dad, why are you laughing ?

–F-For nothing, ahaha ! No, truly, don't worry, don't worry my boy... ahaha !... it's just that, oh god, Ray here just-

–What ? Is it so insane ?!

Desmond looked at both the men with a confused frown, waiting for an answer to his interrogation, and also rather surprised to hear his father laughing. Raymond sighed and shook his head while explaining a bit more what they were talking about a few minutes ago.

–We were talking about livin' together.

–Wait-what ?!

The little high-pitched voice of the boy was enough to make Leo laugh again, even though Desmond was, after this moment of blunt surprise, was seriously pondering the idea. It was risky, for sure, but at least they were together in this awful situation and they could possibly make it work. His little mind was way too serious sometimes and it was now one of these times.

–Well, it all depends on where we are going to move in... also, I doubt I can still be doing homeschooling. I love you dad but... you always tell me it's better to find knowledge everywhere rather than taking it always from the same source.

His father stopped laughing, opened his mouth with the intention to say something, but in the end he just closed it and mumbled something before sighing.

–That's... true, but... you know we have to be discrete.

Raymond thought it was his time to intervene.

–Neh, don't worry sassenach, ye're not goin' to be spotted where we're headin' !

–Oh, that's true... Where is this train going ?

–To Dingwall. It's a li'le town near Iverness, north Scotland. Targent is never goin' to come here, they wont suspect ye're hidin' with me.

Leon looked at the weather. Yup, typical Scottish weather coming ahead.

–I should've guessed. It's raining, in Dingwall, I guess ?

Raymond stared at Leon for a good minte long anf took a deep breath, trying to stop his tongue from being bitchy, but he couldn't help it.

–Of course it's raining ! Where do ye think Scotland is ? The freaking Pyrenees ?

–Language !

The archaeologist snapped before rolling his eyes and sighed once again.

–Why Dingwall ?

–Because A know where to find a house fer us three.

–A house ? Whose house ?

That was surprisingly... quick. There's no way he had been able to look for a house so soon so here it was, the elephant in the room. At this one too, Ray seemed a bit awkward and he muttered something no one heard correctly. Leon frowned.

–I beg your pardon ?

–... me mom's...

He muttered while blushing and looking away. Desmond and Leon looked at each other and then stared back at the Scottish man.

–.... what ?!

-> First chapter

-> Previous chapter

-> Next chapter

[thegildedlady]

I Spy

(This is the first thing I've written in like a year so bear with me)

The man was about to crack. Jem was sure of it.

It had been well over a year since he had been placed on this special assignment. His Handler had made it sound like an easy enough job. “Keep an eye on the Admiral’s son. Intercept any outgoing mail. Report back regularly,” was all the instruction he had initially been given. Simple… and boring. His punishment, Jem supposed, for losing track of Agent Black when he did. The Handler had given him two equally unpleasant options: either stay at the Academy and train the new whelps (a fate usually reserved for those who had proven useless or too cumbersome in the field), or go on ‘special assignment’ and shadow the Lieutenant indefinitely. Watching doe-eyed recruits fail miserably again and again to even slightly impress him was a fate comparable to torture for Jem, and being responsible for them was a prospect that made him shudder. At least with the Lieutenant job, all he had to do was stay out of sight. And so he did– for sixteen months.

Sixteen months Jem had stayed in the shadows of Brightcrown Keep, hiding in dark corners and lofty rafters where eyes rarely lingered. Despite the numerous armor-clad guards littering the place, it was easy to disappear in a place like this. The Lord of the keep, Admiral Edward Lawrence and his Lady wife Ursana, saw dozens of guests pass through their gates every week on one order of business or another. Highborn socialites, peasant laborers, and everyone in between could be spotted on an average day vying for their extremely wealthy patrons’ attention. Though not exactly blue bloods themselves, the Lawrence family owned well over half the ships in the royal fleet. That was enough to earn a commission in the Royal Navy without ever seeing a real fight. The Admiral inherited his position from his father, and his father before him. Clearly, his son the Lieutenant was closely following the path his forefathers had laid out for him… Right?

Wrong, Jem had come to understand. Not even close.

Over the past year and four months Jem observed every movement that Lieutenant Jacques Abernathy made. The man never left his sight. Jem felt he had come to know this man more honestly than even his own family did– in fact, what they didn’t know about their son could fill several textbooks. 

To the outside observer, Lieutenant Jacques Abernathy had the perfect life. An orphaned local boy raised out of poverty by the generous and benevolent gentry leadership, molded into the ideal successor to the Lord’s vast estate and naval empire. His wife, Letitia Abernathy, makes the most dazzlingly decorated of the Keep’s guests look like potato farmers in comparison. They recently welcomed their first child into the world, a bouncing baby girl called Maren. Jem had watched their little family grow from afar. By all measures, this life was the stuff of dreams for many less fortunate people. That was the fantasy.

In reality the Lieutenant’s life was a far cry from perfect, and only partially of his own making. His adoptive father the Admiral was a cold, distant man with little but criticism to offer his chosen heir. His adoptive mother, Lady Ursana, was more interested in her sewing circle and the high society gossip to be found within than anything her family had going on, and seemed oblivious to the unhappiness of her son (or her servants, but that was another matter entirely). The best of them all was his wife, Letitia, who didn’t try very hard to conceal her affairs with anyone who paid her more than an ounce of attention. Guards, servants, visiting guests– Jem saw them all coming and going from her private chambers, some more than once. It seemed to Jem that the only one not sleeping with his wife was Jacques himself. 

The Lieutenant was no angel himself, and Jem found little sympathy for him after sixteen months of being forced to watch Jacques avoid his issues in favor of creating new ones. He couldn’t blame Letitia for seeking out other lovers, because Jacques never seemed to notice her anyways. When she leaned on his arm at public events, he nearly recoiled at the touch. When she spoke his name at the dinner table, he ignored her and ate on in silence. More than once, Jem had watched her storm out of a room and saw the Lieutenant’s relief at her departure. It was clear to anyone living within the Keep’s walls that there was no love lost between Letitia and Jacques.

And speaking of those walls, they did little to keep the sullen Lieutenant contained and out of trouble. More nights out of the week than not, Jem followed him down the shoreline til he reached the outskirts of Brightcrown Bay and climbed the steep road up to Kingscliff. Away from the prying eyes of his father’s bannermen, the Lieutenant was just another stranger passing through, or late-night lingering at the tavern. Sometimes he took a pretty new friend upstairs to a rented room, while other nights he drank himself stupid at the bar until his coin purse was empty and he had to go home. It was pretty pathetic, Jem thought, to choose this sad life over the one Jacques had back home. Not to mention the kid, which was more often than not in the care of the Keep’s nursemaids than anywhere near her mother or father. 

Yes, it seemed that behind closed doors the Lawrence family was anything but perfect. Most of their troubles were rooted in the keeping up of appearances that they all insisted upon, and every one of their subsequent failures to do that without fail. Soap opera that it was, Jem was sick of it. The entire family’s vapid entitlement and wasteful, lavish living was so obscene it made his lip curl. He could not help but start to hate them, and hate the assignment he had been placed on for no discernable reason whatsoever. For months and months he watched them bicker with each other, until finally one night, Jacques could take it no longer.

Jem had been observing the family at dinner– their guest tonight was some other naval officer called Stockton, with a flat top haircut and a beautifully maintained mustache– when one too many sharp words from Letitia had broken Jacques’ temper. Too afraid of angering his father to cause a scene, the Lieutenant simmered as he excused himself from the table and quickly found the exit. Jem was not far behind him, though of course he was not aware of this. He burst from the grand hall’s doors and strode across the courtyard, around corners, and to the end of a private garden with a round, tiered fountain at the center. Jacques walked right up to the fountain and splashed his face with cool water, cupping a handful onto his neck as he tried to steady his breath. A perch in a nearby tree made for a good lookout spot, so Jem got comfortable and settled in to watch until his target decided to move on. 

As the Lieutenant leaned over the fountain’s edge, cooling his head with the water to douse the anger burning inside, Jem could see Jacques’ face reflected in the pool below, along with the amber leaves of the tree he was hiding in. The best word to describe the man’s expression was broken. He was breathing hard, choking on a sob that he would not let loose. His teeth bared, he slammed his eyes shut before covering his face with his hand. Was he crying? Gross, Jem thought.

Any evidence of tears was quickly covered up by Jacques washing his face with a splash of cool water from the fountain. Just in time, too, as Jem picked up on the padding of boots nearby. Not long after, that Stockton fellow rounded the corner and stood at the opposite of the garden clearing. Jacques turned when he noticed he was no longer alone, and pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket to dry off with. 

“What do you want, Everett?” growled the Lieutenant as he dabbed the last of the water off his neck. Everett Stockton, Jem noted to himself. 

The other man crossed his arms over his broad chest and cracked a crooked smile when he spoke. “I came to check up on you, because I’m such an upstanding gentleman and because we’re still old friends. May I?”

Stockton gestured with a nod of his head to the empty seat on the fountain’s edge next to the Lieutenant. Jacques waved him on, shoulders slumped and unable to find the energy to send him away. They sat together in parallel poses, each with their hands folded neatly in their own lap, though Stockton’s confidence shone through his body language in a way that made Jacques look meek next to him. 

“I can understand it,” he began, slapping a meaty paw across Jacques’ shoulder, “Blowing up, I mean. If I had a wife as mouthy as yours, I think I’d have thrown her in the harbor by now.”

Thinly veiled implications of violence aside, Jacques couldn’t help but feel validated by Stockton’s attempt to relate to his plight. He huffed out a grim half-chuckle, then wiped his forehead with the kerchief again. 

“I see how the day-in-day-outs of this can wear on a man, Jack. Shit, I’ll be honest with you– it grates on me too. Men like us, Jack, we weren’t made to sit around and play house with the women all day. We’re sailors and soldiers above all else. You and I, we can never truly be happy while kept in a cage– a fine one, to boot, but a cage all the same. Maybe for a time, but sooner or later the sea starts calling, war or some other adventure presents itself…” 

“Everett–” interrupted the Lieutenant. “What do you really want? Why are you here?” Why indeed, thought Jem from his hiding place in the canopy above.  

After a few beats of silence, Stockton sighed. The crooked smile stayed frozen on his lips, but any warmth behind his eyes was replaced with a steely bluntness. “I’m putting together an expedition to the Dragon Isles, and I need you as my First Mate. There’s no dissuading me, so don’t even begin to try it. Despite what the Admiral had to say about keeping you here, I highly doubt he will stop you from following official naval orders.”

They talked for a while about Stockton’s plans, the expedition in question, and Jacques’ role in all of it. Jem was trying to catch each and every word, but his mind was three steps ahead trying to piece together why the Handler would be interested in an expedition to the Dragon Isles. Surely, this was what he had been sent to report back on, and after completing this mission he will be reassigned… or at least that’s what he had to tell himself. After a moment of checking out, he tuned his attention back into their conversation. 

“...rest of the crew can be conscripts from Stormwind’s stocks. I just need to know that you’re committed to seeing it through until the end. This will be a dangerous trip, and there’s a real chance we run into something we’ve never encountered before. You’ll want to discuss this with your family so they understand the risks.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’m ready to depart when you are.” Jacques replied flatly. Father of the year, he was not. 

Stockton clapped him on the shoulder once again before rising from the fountain’s edge. “Good man. Well! I say we get a good night’s rest, then ship out bright and early just after dawn. Wrap up whatever business you must, and we’ll be in Stormwind harbor by mid-afternoon. I knew I could count on you.” As he began to turn, Stockton stopped himself and raised finger to make a point as if it had just occurred to him. 

“Ah– by the way, Jack. Since we’re on official business, we’ll use our proper titles from now on, eh? So the crew knows who is in charge. Understood, Lieutenant?”

Jacques didn’t respond right away, Jem could just barely make out a quiet, serious voice saying, “Of course, Captain.” 

The next morning they left without very many words of goodbye, and one extra SI:7 agent in tow. This report was one that Jem was going to hand in personally.

(@stormandozone for mention of their characters)

[is-ben-camp]

The College Lives of Sex Girls

I: Intro/Whitney

Jared, Stella, and I, just got caught up with the six released episodes of second season of The Sex Lives of College Girls, and I thought I would write down my thoughts about the show, specifically what the show says about sex on campus.

At first I made a big deal about needing to know what the show was even about. What was the message? Jared pointed out to me that maybe there is none. The show feels more like a slice-of-life presentation of what contemporary college life is from women’s perspectives. I agree that moral lessons are not the focus of the show or the girls' sex lives. The themes in the ways the girls date and have sex are well-written and consistent, reflecting their desires, drives, and past experiences. Once established, however, the same themes are not interrogated or critically examined in any way, and this stunts the girls' growth in emotional and sexual maturity. 

Whitney arrives at Essex with a good bit of family baggage. Her mother is powerful and impressive but distant. As a result, Whitney tries to impress her but gets little to no feedback, which drives her desire to achieve even more. On the other hand, Whitney’s father has practically abandoned her to selfishly pursue his own ambitions. For very different reasons, this also pushes Whitney to be more and more impressive, especially to the men around her.

Her affair with Dalton, the assistant soccer coach, is telling in this regard. She is the hardest-working player on his team, and the initiator in their relationship. Instead of being passed up by a male authority figure for some selfish desire, she becomes the object of that desire for Dalton, and even tries to push him to leave his wife for her in a distorted inversion of what has been visited upon her. It hurts all the more when she realizes she is not the first student to have an affair with him partly because it contradicts this narrative. She once again feels the cold shoulder of an uncaring paternal figure from whom she wanted nothing but love.

Later, Whitney’s competitiveness turns to jealousy when she finds out that her boyfriend, Canaan, was approached by another girl, even though he didn't initiate and was clear with her about his relationship with Whitney. She feels betrayed when Canaan asks if they can be official – she thought they already were. These are plausible reactions for anyone to have, but in context, they read as expressions of Whitney’s fear of abandonment. She desires to be the center of someone’s affection, the first on their list of priorities. This is how these innocent misunderstandings take the shape of betrayal.

Despite this pattern of behavior being so well-developed, Whitney is never challenged on it, and therefore cannot grow out of it. Regarding her affair with Dalton, her teammates proclaim, only he is to blame because he was in a position of power over her. While technically true, this interpretation lets Whitney off the hook from having to reflect on the part she played in this unhealthy romance. 

This brings me back to my point about the moral lessons missing from the show, because we do get some of it at this juncture. The writers do not force Whitney to reckon with her own shortcomings. Instead, they use this moment to drive home a point about powerful men at the university exploiting the women below them. But this is not an accurate portrayal of what happened in the relationship. A stronger yet more controversial moral is sacrificed for one that doesn’t fit as well and is weaker but perhaps easier to digest.

My point is that the show clearly does have a moral dimension, and that it is very much involved in the ethics surrounding sex and relationships, but it picks and chooses when to say something about it. When some moments are used as parables but others portraying equally substantial ethical issues get played for laughs or simply go unexamined, how to interpret them remains unclear. When ethics enters the picture, we see it clearly. When it is absent from a crucial moment, we are left to wonder if the writers think there is nothing at all wrong about what just happened, whether they think it’s funny, or whether they just don’t care enough to analyze it. 

To do any or all of the above is well within the rights of the show’s creators. They certainly are not beholden to my system of ethics, which finds questionable many scenes shown in a positive light, or in any case, not given the closer examination and reflection that I believe they merit. However, when the writers do not weigh in, some instances of inappropriate sexual behavior perpetrated by the girls get rubber-stamped, or at least it really seems that way. In what follows I'll try to point out some examples of this behavior complete with missing moral post-mortem and explain why I think the writers ought to pay closer attention to them.

II: If you can’t beat ‘em, at least try to get into their parties…

Despite the fact that the main characters are women, nearly all of the plot development happens at fraternities, most of it at frat parties. Frats stand in for the student community in many instances in this show. In fact, the frats, with their incredibly ripped and incredibly stupid pledges, are substituted for (elite) university communities with entrenched male-centered, patriarchal attitudes. 

Ninety percent of the girls’ male peers are shirtless ninety percent of the time they are on screen. When they do commit the grave mistake of opening their mouths, they either say something stupid, sexist, or plain offensive. This tongue-in-cheek objectification is meant to be subversive, and is in line with the trope that exists in popular culture where we take a despicable practice that, up to now, has been perpetrated by men, and ‘reclaim’ it by mediating its depiction through a female, queer, etc. perspective as an act of gleeful retaliation. Having said that, I think it's obvious enough that this is meant to be a joke so I don't think it's fair to take issue with the caricature in and of itself.

Through the frats, male-centered college culture is irreverently made fun of. At the same time, the show never even hints at the fact that fraternities should clearly be obliterated. It is as if they are absolved by being made the butt of a long joke. Frats are bottomless pits of the kinds of indefensible behavior that all the administrators of the colleges that house them will say they stand firmly against. Like these administrators, the writers seem here to be saying: "yep, it’s fucked up, we know, but them’s the breaks. If you can’t beat them, at least try to get into their parties."

The girls, instead of separating from the fraternities, use them for their own benefit. Instead of breaking with the patriarchal community that treats them poorly, they try to use its own means against itself in what I believe to be a core theme of the show -- that it is empowering, or at least not unethical, for women to cynically use the tools of a patriarchal system against itself for their own advantage. The issue, of course, is that this implicitly validates these systems and removes the urgency of the need to replace them with better ones, until the women themselves are assimilated into the system.

At the start of the second season, the girls are faced with the consequences of Kimberly tattling on a frat’s extensive record of academic dishonesty in order to save herself from being expelled for a milder infraction. The frat is demoted and loses their rights to host parties, and the girls are subsequently blacklisted from all frat parties. To me, this seemed an eminently teachable moment in the show about not buckling under pressure when confronting oppressive abuse of authority. The girls have exposed something unseemly about the powers that be, and said powers are attempting to retaliate. This is something that happens in real life, all of the time, especially when the powers that be are, like the frats, wielding social and sexual power.

Do the girls find different ways to build community on campus? Do they tell the increasingly annoying frat bros to fuck off, let them stew in their own vitriol, and grow by opening up their social life to other avenues? All it takes is one failed party for them to go running back in search of penance. In the end, what gets them back into the frats’ good graces is by emceeing a strip show to raise funds for "something Essex cares about, like climate change." The dean of students, apparently a feminist "who marched," attempts to shut it down until she learns how much money they’ve raised from students (including a surprising amount of lesbians coming to watch frat bros gyrate). This again is clearly a joke about the cynical activism and charity that frats and universities in general try their hands at when they want to score brownie points. Personally, I think an apparently avowed feminist surrendering her principles for a moderate sum of money is not as funny as it is sad, and precisely the type of thing that should be pointed out and not framed as a gag, but, being a joke, this is not a morally ambiguous moment.

At the same time, the cynicism displayed by the girls for making the entire thing happen goes under the radar. In organizing the strip show, the girls resort to making the patriarchal system work at least for themselves if they can’t (or don't want to) right its wrongs. This validates the frats' continued existence in the show, and the girls continue to go to their parties (unironically). I have to assume that the writers do not think there is anything really wrong with this since they don't address it it any way. They are quick to point out and are right to be unambiguous about how wrong it was for Ryan to sexually abuse Bela, and for Eric to dig his head in the sand upon hearing about it. But they do not assert themselves so confidently when the girls are the ones objectifying men, using sex as a means to gain social status and stay in the good graces of a male-centered community that couldn't care less about them. Does the fact that now they are the ones treating sex with the same cynicism as the men around them suddenly make everything okay? 

III: A New Guide to Sex in the 21st Century/Leighton

When the thought about sexual cynicism on the preceding line occurred to me, I thought it would be interesting to try these ideas out in conversation of Louise Perry's thought-provoking and controversial book, The Case Against the Sexual Revolution: A New Guide to Sex in The 21st Century. The thesis of this work is that identifying sexual liberation with libidinous, hypersexualized ideas around dating and sex benefits men and harms women. When more dating apps than you or I could name encourage us to have more frequent and more excessive sex, women often end up having to "accommodate the excesses of male lust" just as they did in the past despite the vast efforts of feminists to equalize sex.

The excesses of male lust are exactly what some of the male characters assume the girls will tolerate throughout the first season of the show.  Nico cheats on his girlfriend with Kimberly and sort of just thinks it will all be papered over. Dalton goes from college to college having sex with players on the teams he coaches. Ryan uses his position as one of the editors on the Catullan to sexually harass untold numbers of female first-years, including Bela and Carla, and clearly expect to get away with it.

While we may have been treated to more sympathetic accounts of philandering men in the media of old, this show condemns forthright the male characters’ sexual exploitation of younger and less powerful girls. What we see happen to these men is something that is sorely missing from some real-life instances of assault which continue to persist: those who are found to transgress are expelled, fired, punished. That this, and no less, is what we have come to expect, that we have no tolerance for such abuses of power and sexuality, is one of the great achievements of feminist movements like the sexual revolution in updating the social consciousness to be more alert towards mistreatment.

This movement rose against a backdrop of social attitudes around sex and relationships that authorized men to have reckless sex with women who then had to bear the consequences. On a societal level, sex simply didn’t mean as much for men as it did for women. Men had the power to make of a sexual relationship what they wanted, to invest it with significance or abandon it at a moment’s notice. At the center of it was, to use a precarious word, wanton pleasure. Not only did women suffer the emotional damage from being treated as less-than-equal sexual and romantic partners, they also were often blamed for contracting sexually transmitted illnesses, or for having unwanted pregnancies. Not only did they suffer physical and emotional harm, they, more than most men, had to face the social stigma accompanying it.  

The invention of the birth control pill opened the door for all of this to change. The pill was a reliable and convenient method of contraception and made it possible for women to have lower-risk sex. Condoms are more effective but they can be taken off during sex without the other party's knowledge, and some men obstinately refuse to wear them. The pill, on the other hand, allows women to take some degree of contraceptive control. Women could enter into sexual relationships without the existential threat of unwanted pregnancies, and attitudes around what kind of sexual behavior was ‘proper’ for women began to change as well.

In the course of all this, Perry says, there emerged a train of thought that it was sexually liberating for women to have sex the same way that men did. Men had the sexual power because societal factors made it possible for them to have meaningless sex, whereas women simply couldn’t. They had no choice but to invest themselves into each relationship. If this fact was at least in part related to the sexual repression of women, it may have seemed that simply refraining from doing so and assuming the same attitudes that men did would be freeing. 

In the end, it is up to the individual to decide what makes them feel liberated. And of course neither I nor Perry are about to say that women, or anyone, should refrain from having casual sex on principle and not out of a personal desire to. On the other hand, just because women are also encouraged not to care about sex will obviously not make men, or anyone, care any more. It’s not clear to me how further divesting sex of its meaning as personal connection and emotional bond will help us reimagine it in a way where everyone who partakes is on equal footing. I find Perry's claim that this approach has lead to us being at once hypersexualized and desensitized to sex as our media, dating apps, and other customs, still prioritize male sexual desire much more plausible.

Let’s take a look at Leighton’s arc now. She struggles with coming out during the first season as she fears her sexuality will come to define her if she does. When her girlfriend, Alicia, forces an ultimatum, she lets the relationship end instead of going public. This trajectory is really compelling to me because Leighton’s reasons for not wanting to come out are, in my reading, different from the ones she states. Our sexuality only defines us if we let it, if we want it to. Leighton could come out and continue her non-sexual life more or less the same way she has up to that point. Her conviction in fact points to how she views other gay people as substituting their sexuality for a personality. I think she is echoing a perspective on gay people that is probably common in her family environment, and more generally, her social and political class. She has internalized this homophobia (it is one step away from saying that 'the gays only do it for the attention') and this creates a tension between wanting to be her authentic self and at the same time feeling it to be inauthentic, or worse, feeling ashamed of its authenticity.

Leighton even sleeps with a guy from her brother’s frat that he ��set her up with’ in a weird, incestuous arranged-marriage sequence, which is representative of the strength and pervasiveness of the heteronormative pressures she feels she must succumb to. Despite the fact that she’s gay, even Leighton has to "accommodate the excesses of male desire." It is such a revelation, then, when she comes out to her roommates and then to the Essex community at large. What follows, though, is an episode that equates libido and excessive sex with sexual freedom in the way that Perry warns us about. It is a whirlwind tour of sex during which she apparently sleeps with most of the gay women at the university, eventually contracting and passing on chlamydia to some of her unenumerable lovers.

Leighton’s girlfriends are clearly upset with her because she goes through them at a rate of about one per minute, which is played for a joke about how small and ‘tight-knit’ the lesbian community at Essex is and is otherwise not commented on. All in all, this part of her arc is seen as "[a young woman] unapologetically taking control of her sexuality," as was articulated in an interview with Salon. I see where this interpretation comes from and I do not think it is necessarily misguided. I nevertheless feel uneasy about the fact that sexual liberation for Leighton, the chance for her to love authentically, means that she essentially starts hooking up like a frat bro, without caring for the emotional fallout or the physical consequences. 

Again, I’m not going to judge anyone for hooking up a lot, and it’s true that STI-s like chlamydia are nowhere near as big a deal as they were a few decades ago, where social attitudes towards these illnesses can still sometimes be seen to linger. But in the interview linked above, the actresses speak a lot about the representational content of the show. This is why I feel it less-than-optimal to include this version of a sexual liberation arc. Rapp stresses that her and Leighton’s experiences are one of many and that it is important to see that diversity represented on screen as well. Fair enough, but that is not an out for the writers to depict problematic sexual behavior without any indication that they are aware of what they are doing.

IV: Bela/Conclusion

Bela’s story at Essex is perhaps the most harrowing one because of the multiple instances of sexual assault. She comes to college looking for fulfilling and fun sexual experiences, and this is what she is met with instead. As I’ve said before, I like the way the aftermath of these incidents is handled and I appreciate that Bela is shown to be capable of overcoming the trauma they caused. All things considered, though, she, among all the girls, is dealt the worst hand. The way Bela was introduced to sex is as a form of abuse. Her ambitions as a comedy writer got tied up in a corrosive knot with the violations she could expect to have to weather in order to achieve her goals. I was really happy to see her dating Eric because their relationship has a sense of playful competitiveness to it that could unwind the knot and give Bela space to see that sex and comedy do not have to conspire to destroy her.

In a plot development that is as realistic as the nature and depiction of the abuses directed at her, Bela tries sleeping with a famous Essex comedian alum in order to secure an internship with him. As she did when she organized the strip show to get back into frat parties, Bela is consciously playing into the hands of the same toxic sexual system that has treated her poorly in order to get ahead. However, I don’t take issue with this in the way I expressed before, because I think this will come back later in the season and force Bela to have to reckon with her behavior. In other words, I don’t see the writers giving their blessing over Bela’s behavior like they did when she purposefully bought a child-sized shirt to exaggerate her breasts to get into a frat party, for example. I’m definitely not going to argue that Bela sleeping with Dan to get an internship is anything like what Ryan did to her. Yet I can see how her disillusionment with sex at the hands of Ryan led her to treat sex in a callous way that led her to see it as a tool to gain power. I just hope that the writers give her another chance to untie the corrosive knot.

I mentioned at the top of this essay that I thought it would give the wrong idea about sex to people in or about to enter college. College students have to achieve more and more just to make the cut as they feel more isolated, stressed, and depressed. Pushing people to have sex is an ages-old form of peer-pressure, but it's being presented as feminist, as sexual freedom. There is not one character on the show that simply doesn't feel ready for sex or hasn't had at least four sexual encounters before Thanksgiving break of their freshman year! I wouldn't want the same endlessly overworked college students to think that, on top of all of they have to do, frequent sex of the mechanical kind also needs to be on their to-do list, that this is how they really own their sexuality.

This show is not unrealistic. It has quite a few teachable moments about sex and other aspects of college life where the writers hit the nail on the head. It's not Euphoria. The stories it tells about sex feel real and relatable, which is part of the reason I feel they are playing fast and loose with their ethics. At the same time, I'm very aware that the show is still being written and developed as of this writing, and things may change.

I just hope that viewers don’t think that their two options are either being lonely outcasts condemned to a sexless existence or entering into treacherous engagement with fraternities, sororities, and other forms of the patriarchal and sexist side of college. In fact, I hope viewers don’t think that having a sex life at all is an integral part to being in college. Re-investing sex with meaning almost surely necessitates having less of it, and that is not altogether a bad thing.

[joandfriedrich]

Do you have any period headcanons about the parents? The Marches, of course, but also Laurie, John, and Fritz's parents. Or Mr. Laurence?

Interesting, let's explore these folks. Also, these are purely based on what little is known of these characters backgrounds, not anything that is confirmed in the text.

I feel like Mr. Laurence is the type of guy who doesn't show his feelings well, being pretty stoic and silent, which can make him seem stern and unlikable, but really, he feels a great deal, just doesn't know how to express himself. His wife really brought him out of his shell, helped him to express himself better. But after she died, he was slowly going back into his shell, then add the death of his children, he turned back into the stoic man we see in the novel.

I feel like Laurie's father is very much like him, a true romantic, and had fallen in love with Laurie's mother at first sight. She did too, but she was more practical that she didn't just go right to marrying, but actually persuaded him to take a least a month or two of proper courtship before getting married. Her occupation was that of an opera singer, which was considered not the most honorable profession, but she held onto her morals and was highly respected, and as he was already a musician, they often performed together, and everyone thought they were the perfect musical pair so it was no wonder that they fell for each other.

John's parents marriage wasn't exactly as romantic as the others, more of an arrange marriage type. While his father died in the Mexican American War, his few memories of his father were few, but he always remembered him as distant and cold, and his mother did not seem to have anything good to say about him. His father left them with nothing, making them pretty much on their own the entirety of his life. Despite what was clearly an unhappy, and possibly abusive, marriage, his mother remained kind, humble, and generous, which is what he took the most after.

Margaret (Marmee) had met the young Robert at a church service, in which they were working together to help the poor. For her, it was a way to atone for her foul temper and for him, he just wanted to help. She found it easy to talk to him and he didn't judge her for her tempers or her point of views, even agreeing with her ideas of equality and education. It started off with them being friends, her going to help him whenever he hosted a charitable event, finding ways to calm her moods, and he found that he enjoyed listening to this progressive woman, a breath of fresh air compared to his old fashioned Aunt March. After he lost his fortune, she goes to him to offer comfort, but he is distraught that he has nothing to offer her, as he had hoped to marry her. She assures him that she doesn't need wealth to be happy, not as long as she has him.

[familyfromukraine]

On the morning of February 24, 2022, my wife woke me up with the words:

- Igor, wake up! They're bombing…

- What?! - I opened my eyes with difficulty.

About 5-6 o'clock in the morning, I don't remember exactly now. I only remember the feeling that hung in the air of the room. Feeling of anxiety.

- I just read on Facebook: friends write that russians are bombing Ukraine, - my wife said with alarm. - Oh... do you hear?.. again? What's this?..

I remember perfectly, for the rest of my life, what I heard right after that and then saw.

Thunder could be heard... explosions. Distant explosions, distant rumbles. They were so nasty, unpleasant for the ear that they penetrated right through, they were etched into the memory.

"If he caught us up finally, a bloody psychopath?!"

- ran through my mind at that moment.

My wife and I ran to the window. It was foggy. Low cloud cover. February dampness. Mist. I looked into the distance. There. Somewhere out there. Far away. On the horizon. Scarlet flashes flashed. There were clearly explosions over the horizon. From there to here came muffled rumbles:

- boom, boom, boom, boom!!! - very accurately conveys the Ukrainian word “vybukhi". This is exactly “vybukhi".

A fighter jet flew over our house. It was not visible because of the low gray clouds that hid the sky from the people of Kiev. I didn't see him. I just seemed to be cut through by his sharp fighter drilling of the air, which cannot be confused with the calm peaceful sound of a civilian aircraft. It was a military plane, definitely. I didn't see the insignia on its wings, and therefore I didn't know if it was an Ukrainian or a Russian plane, “our” or an enemy one. And that made my soul even more anxious. Even sharper feelings, the feeling of adversity has become even more acute.

This low-flying fighter as you know... when you tear off a piece of paper from a school notebook, shhh, and this forever divides the moment into “before” and “after".

You will never be able to return a piece of paper back to the school notebook without a seam, without gluing, without a scar. It is rejected forever now.

Also with the fighter, which, with a sharp, terrible sound of a military aircraft, tore my time into “before” and “after". Fffshshshsihhhh.

It was unpleasant and sticky for me to think that a Russian fighter jet was flying freely over Kiev and could launch a rocket into any of the houses, for example, into our house.

I moved away from the window and sat down on the sofa. My wife continued to stand near the window, peering into the gray “something”.

- Do you think this is a war? - she asked me.

I turned my face away from her and quietly, calmly, as calmly as I could, answered:

- Yes, this is a war.

A tear rolled down my cheek. It wasn't a tear of fear, although, of course, I was scared. Something shrank inside me. A soul? Nerves? I began to think feverishly, what to do? But the tear didn't roll out of fear. In moments of danger, I usually get up, adrenaline hits my man's head, and I begin to think with a cold mind, calculate moves and ways, solutions. This is a male version of the reaction to an extreme situation.

And then suddenly a tear rolled out. At that time I still did not understand what this new phenomenon was for me. Much later, the explanation for my tears suddenly rolling into my eyes came to me. And I'll save this explanation for later chapters.

In the meantime, I was sitting on the couch and deciding what to do now. As a husband. As a father of two children, who slept in the next rooms.

How?

How it could be in the 21st century?

I started to remember speeches from famous people I heard recently.

1. Russian famous journalist’s answer “No” on the question “Will the war start?” a day before the war had started.

2. Russian politicans, who assured all world, that Russia wouldn’t attack Ukraine.

3. Lukashenko, the president of Belarus, who said “Never. Never. Never russian troops will come into Ukraine from Belarus” (but they came) a week before the war had started.

4. Zelensky “I will say to all of you in my next New Year speech to Ukrainian people, that I was right at this point, that everything is alright. Don’t panic. There is nothing for spooky. We will be doing our spring barbeku this year, as we usually do” (No, we didn’t and he didn’t too).

And of course the speech of the main psychopath and a lier, abuser and sadist of our modern history - Putin: “Ukraine was never existed really” and “We’ll show you the real decommunization”.

I could call this story “Lie” or “Big lie”, but such books are already selling on the Amazon and telling us about american politicans. Although does it really matter? Probably, the best title for my book would be “Big Liers” worldwide? Maybe.

To say true, months later I started remembering things from my life and suddenly I recognized, that I met sociopaths and psychopaths all my life since youth around me. In my country, where I was born.

So, I'll show you in this book how I escaped from sociopathes, who inhabited even entire country, and some psychopathes in my life experience.

> Firstly I wanted to write a book about escaping of our Ukrainian family from Ukraine because of Russian attacks. After a while I understood, that the topic extends more deeply in history of several countries, our family and, finally, into my soul.

So, meanwhile…

I got up and went to the window again. I looked once more into the distance.

"It can't be," - my wife said next to me. - "It cannot be that in the 21st century someone attacked a neighboring country like this. It cannot be that in the 21st century such a thing is possible: a war in Europe."

It cannot be… But it was. Definitely.

I peered into the “there” again, into the distance. There were red flashes on the horizon. From the “there” there were muffled “vibukhs” coming again, again, again. They bombed somewhere in the direction of Chernihiv, as it seemed to me.

There, beyond the mist, were monsters, monsters, unknown, invisible forces of evil, they bombed, destroyed, killed.

Along with the mist that was approaching the city, hordes of “orcs” were coming at us (this is the word that arose in my head at that moment), hordes of inhumans who wanted to tear us apart, trample our peaceful life, our ordinary affairs, school, work, family.

From there, because of the mist, a horde of ghouls, evil spirits, was approaching. That's the feeling I had at that moment, I probably remembered it for the rest of my life.

“There behind the mists, eternal drunks...” sings Russian singer Rastorguev in his famous song for former Soviet citizens of Russia. It seemed as if they had been preparing to attack behind the mist for many years before.

[99liners]

liberosis — myg;

liberosis; the desire to care less about things.

pairings: lawyer!min yoongi x trophy wife!reader

extra characters: kim taehyung and tanaz (enouement), kim seokjin and inaya (aphotic), jeon jeongguk and azumi (kaiho), park jimin and rei (nodus tollens), jung hoseok (psychomachy) (avengers, assemble!)

genre: angst, smut, contractual marriage!au, age-gap!au (10 years)

words: 31.390

warnings: tsundere!min yoongi, toxic relationship, talks of corruption, morally corrupt!min yoongi, morally corrupt!bts, minor/unnamed character deaths, yoongi is a chain-smoker (most lawyers smoke, believe me on this one), cold and distant behaviour, scenes with alcohol consumption, face-sitting, pussy-eating, consensual and unprotected sex, doggy-style, orgasms (f / m), mental abuse, mental breakdown / meltdown, hurtful words, mentally abusive, explicit display of controlling behaviour, extreme paranoia, irrationality, yoongi exhibits signs of pyromania (he sets ‘some’ things on fire), mentions of cheating, exhibitionism.

part of: tatemae; 建前 — a bts series.

a/n: let me warn you all, well in advance, that the legal depictions portrayed in this piece of work, specifically about ‘spousal privilege’ is not how the actual rule of law works and is a bit different (also can differ based on personal laws around the world). i took the liberty to alter some details to suit this piece of work better, so please take note of them with a grain of salt. your understanding is appreciated!

August 2020:

you turned off the water tap after using the facilities. at the very least, hospital restrooms are squeaky clean and hygienic. funny how a clean washroom is the highlight of your week.

the past week has been a ride to hell and back. watching your father fight death, suffering to take even the next breath, all because your family cannot afford the best cancer treatment. chemotherapy can drastically increase his survival rate, but it costs a fortune in addition to his daily treatment requirements.

your mother had passed away when you were around two years old, and since then, it has always been your father and you. 

your father, a low-grade government employee, did not earn much. it was enough to get by, a low-key life with the proper necessities. you never had a want in life, but adversely, there were no funds in any bank for emergencies like hospital bills. your father retired around three years ago, his pension being 75% of his salary, causing a stretch in daily life. you have had part-time jobs since you were fifteen (15), but wages from part-time jobs hardly account for pocket money; it cannot possibly run a household.

you shook off the water droplets lacing your hands before standing in front of the hand dryer. there were some sounds of footsteps outside, almost like someone was pacing the length of the restroom entrance while talking on the phone.

you were too busy drying your hands when the dryer sensor went off for a few seconds.

“jeon, i need you here. there is a body, and i need it taken care of... what do you mean you are busy? i am fucking busy too... taehyung, that idiot called me instead of you... yeah? well, i don’t fucking care whether you two get along or not. i came thinking it’s an emergency because mighty kim seokjin told me. then i discovered that it’s beyond my concern,” the male, who now stood right outside the blurry glass panel of the restroom door, took a drag of his cigarette before continuing, “no, no, it’s not about hoseok. it’s seokjin’s business. some poor chap got stuck in the crosshairs.”

you heard the part of the conversation clear as day before the dryer started again. hearing the dryer's sound, the voice outside the door ceased at once. the realization did not take long to hit that you just listened to a conversation that you were clearly not supposed to. you tried to stop the dryer, but it was sensor-enabled and had a time lag before turning on and off. you tore your hands away from where they were lying under the machine, but by the time it stopped whirring, the restroom door opened with one smooth push of a hand.

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” the male groaned before putting out the cigarette in his hands and flicking it towards the trash can.

you stared in absolute shock at the male; he was dressed in a suit, made of lush expensive fabric, polished shoes. his tie was tucked inside the sweater he was adorning over his shirt and underneath his suit blazer. initially, you thought it would be a gangster, but the look of the sophisticated person standing in front of you caused you to do a double-take. 

“what did you hear?” he took steps towards you, the automated restroom door closing behind him.

“what..?” your eyebrows scrunched together at the sudden interrogative tone.

“are you deaf? i asked, what did you hear?”

“nothing,” you replied sternly this time, holding your head high as you tried to walk away, but the male barred your pathway.

he looked at you, creating the illusion of towering over you although he is of average height and not that taller compared to you. he had a sombre look; the man meant business only.

“don’t make me repeat myself. i am not having the best day.”

“of course, guess hiding dead bodies is not your forte,” you blurted out unintentionally. your passive aggression is going to sign your death warrant someday soon.

an unmistakable smirk appeared on the male’s face, his eyes never breaking contact with yours, maintaining the upper hand, “so you did hear it.”

“well, you were not exactly being subtle,” you sighed and replied honestly, now that the cat is out of the bag.

“oh yeah? my bad, my first slip up and at what cost. humour me, what all did you hear?”

“listen, i don’t care who you are, who you work for or with, i won’t tell anyone anything. i promise,” you spoke softly, just wanting to leave, but he kept glaring at you till you finally gave up, “i heard you telling someone to take care of a body. i heard four names. i don’t know any of them, i promise.”

“you heard the names too?” he asked, almost in disbelief because that is circumstantial evidence. you nodded at the rhetoric inquiry causing the male to massage his temple with his forefinger and thumb, “what do i do with you now?” he mumbled to himself.

“don’t kill me please, i need to take care of my dad,” you spoke out, impatient to get back to your father.

“oh, little one. how do i believe that? you could rat me out anytime.”

“no, i won’t! i don’t even know your name! see, there’s the loophole.”

a dark chuckle left his thinly shaped lips, “do you take me for an idiot? i know a self-righteous person when i see one,” a reminder tone played on his phone, causing him to check it.

“i am serious, mister. this is none of my business. i heard things i shouldn’t have, and i am more than happy to forget about the whole incident.”

min yoongi, obviously, did not trust a word that left your mouth but decided to indulge you as he was running late for a hearing. this way, he can also understand your intentions better, “i don’t believe that, but for the time being, i am going to let it go and forget this ever happened.”

you nodded at that and meant to walk away, but the man caught you by your elbow. the grip was firm, forceful even.

“don’t think i will hesitate even for a second before ruining your life if you choose to open your trap anywhere.”

you wrested out of his grip, “i am not an idiot either. you won’t see me again,” you replied briskly before exiting the restroom. letting a sigh of relief on escaping the situation, you walked back to your father’s room.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

it did not take more than three days for the universe to make you eat your words as you found yourself walking towards the police station.

‘he is going to kill me, surely,’ you sighed, your hands clutching on the straps of the crossbody bag hanging from your shoulder. you stopped in your tracks around 200 metres away from the precinct entrance and turned back.

‘i need to be alive for dad,’ you thought as you started walking in the opposite direction. 

‘but i should report it. they got someone killed,’ you groaned, stopping in your tracks. turning back, your eyes traced the precinct building while in the other direction, at a considerable distance, was the hospital where you came from.

confronted by your thoughts, you sat down on the pavement, covering your face. the dilemma was giving you a headache. you need to stay alive to help your father heal, but you cannot just not report a serious crime like murder. 

it was sunny out, the rays of sunlight almost burning off the top part of your head, but you kept sitting with your face bowed down, trying to decide what to do.

“ma’am, are you alright?” a voice caused you to break out from your train of thoughts and look up.

“i am alright,” you croaked out after clearing the lump in your throat.

“you look out of sorts. is everything alright? i am a cop,” he showed you his badge, which read ‘detective jung minjun, violent crimes squad,’ “maybe i can get you a cab home.”

your eyes almost lit up at the sight of his badge.

‘is this a sign from the universe?’

you kept staring at him for a while before finally speaking up, “actually, i want to report a crime, but i am afraid i will risk my safety.”

“ma’am, we can help you with that. why don’t you come with me to the precinct and talk to my senior?” he urged you.

you were already leaning more on the ‘should report it’ side, and now coupled with his reassurance, you stood up to your feet.

i mean, what is the worst that could happen?

“alright. but i am still not sure.”

“i can understand,” minjun offered you an understanding smile before walking towards the precinct with you on his toes.

“sir?” minjun spoke up once inside the precinct, standing in front of the largest desk. the man sitting on the other end of the desk looked up from his desktop screen and urged minjun to go on.

you watched quietly from behind minjun’s figure, almost like you had taken shelter behind him.

“ma’am here wants to report a crime,” minjun moved aside and left, so now you were left face-to-face with the senior detective. 

‘senior detective jeon jeongguk’ read the name plaque kept on top of his desk.

“yes, miss, go ahead,” jeon jeongguk stood up and walked to you, pulling out a chair for you, “you look anxious. here, have some water,” he moved a glass of water towards you.

you sat down, your body almost reclusing into yourself in the presence of the detective. compared to minjun, jeongguk had a heavier presence. his war-core attire screamed superiority in power. he was trying his best to be gentle, but there was a certain crassness in his tone. guess that comes from dealing with notorious criminals all day. you extended your shaky hand to take the glass of water he was holding out for you.

“it’s alright, don’t be afraid. we are all here to protect you,” jeongguk smiled before walking back to his chair and taking a seat, “now, tell me what happened?”

“i am not sure if i want to make an official statement,” you mentioned after taking a sip of the water.

“sure. whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

you nodded and narrated the whole incident to him down to the T, not leaving a detail out.

“four names you said, a john, taehyung, kim seokjin and hoseok, right?”

“yeah! you got them right.”

“do you want to make an official statement and report the crime?”

“i wasn’t so sure about it, but now that i am here, might as well go ahead with it.” you sighed.

jeongguk nodded and turned to minjun, who took the cue and recorded your statement. jeongguk stood up from his seat, grabbed his phone and mumbled a soft ‘excuse me’ before walking out of the precinct.

“your witness is here,” jeongguk spoke through the receiver of his phone.

yoongi, on the other side of the call, sighed, “i knew it. did you take her statement?”

“had to. i am not the sole person who works here, everyone in the squad heard what she had to say, and she wanted to report the crime, so yeah, she is getting her statement recorded right now.”

“fuck. i swear i can’t go one day without seokjin’s stupid issues blowing up in my ass. hold her there, i am on my way.”

“cool. it’s almost lunchtime, so i will make sure it’s just her, and i left in the precinct.”

“got it.”

jeongguk completed his call before walking back in.

“can i leave now?” you asked as the detective made his way back to his desk where you were sitting.

“did they record your statement?”

“yeah, sir. they did,” you smiled, preparing to stand up.

“can you hold on for a while? i have some additional documents i need you to sign.”

“oh? alright,” you let your weight rest back on your seated legs.

“yeah, yoon-” jeongguk turned around and faked being surprised with the realisation that everyone had left for lunch, “i am afraid you will have to wait, ma’am. form 15-B is maintained by yoona, and everyone is gone for lunch.”

you nodded, thinking nothing much of it and took out your phone to pass the time.

jeongguk offered you a small smile before going back to the case file he was registering onto the system after giving yoongi the affirmation that you two were left alone now.

it took ten minutes for yoongi to arrive from his office to the precinct. he sauntered in, as soft as a cat, not letting you any time to suspect that someone was standing right behind you.

you did notice something was amiss when you could smell a familiar cologne. you turned back in a flash only to discover that your hunch was correct. the cologne belonged to that very man, and now he was standing right behind you.

“you are a sanctimonious little prick, aren’t you?” yoongi smiled as he noted the look of dismay on your face.

you turned to jeongguk, “sir, this is the guy! he was the one talking about the dead body.”

jeongguk leaned back into his chair, “i know, miss. i know.”

“you... know?” your eyebrows scrunched together in disbelief. reports of police corruption are rampant worldwide, but it is indisputable that we trust the cops to protect us at the end of the day. when it happens to you, it feels surreal. you felt so helpless because you had nowhere else to turn to. also, you do not know what will happen to you now.

“so it wasn’t john but a jeon?” you asked after putting the pieces together.

jeongguk laughed, “well, they both have the same pronunciation, but yes, i spell it as j-e-o-n.”

you went to reply, but yoongi’s voice brought your attention back to him.

“you are big on words, little one. i must say, you even promised me by yourself that you would forget about everything.”

“i tried, okay! i tried, but you assholes killed a person.”

yoongi let a chuckle before getting a hold of your elbow, “get up.”

“wher-where are we going?” you kept looking between jeongguk and the male, scared for your dear life.

“to have the talk, little one. since you have chosen this path, let me show you your options now. it’s only fair,” he tugged on your hand again.

you stood up and followed him out to his car. it was a black rolls royce wraith. the male opened the right side back door and pushed you in like neither you nor the car meant anything. he got in after you, shortly.

you regained your balance and sat properly on the seat, “why are you doing this?”

“are you serious? i should be the one asking you that!” he reached inside his blazer pocket and brought out a sealed packet of imported Marlboro Vintage.

you scoffed, “well, it’s too late. i already made an official statement.”

“yes, that you did,” the male held the butt of the cigarette between his lips before lighting it up, “but you have to appear in court and testify in front of a judge.”

“and i will if that is not evident enough by now.”

the male scoffed this time, dragging in a long puff before breathing it out, “i was hoping you would say that. unfortunately, i, for a fact, know that you would not be able to make it to court. i am given to believe that your father is in critical condition, and chemotherapy can greatly help his treatment for renal cancer.”

“how do you know that?”

“i know everything about you, y/l/n y/n. everything. i have your school records in my office. top As but never joined college cause of high fees.”

“none of that has anything to do with you or this situation,” you looked around, trying to locate the car door. drawing in another breath was becoming impossible.

“just ask, and you shall receive,” the male shook his head before cracking the window open, letting the smoke move out as fresh air poured in, “my name is min yoongi. remember that cause you will be hearing soon from my assistant about the cheque. so, why don’t you be a good daughter and take care of your dad? go ahead and get a new kidney even!” he leaned in, a sick grin playing on his lips. the stench of cigarettes wafting through your nostrils as you only leaned back.

yoongi advanced a hand, causing you to clutch your hands tightly near your chest, but he unlocked your side of the door to push it open, “get lost. you will get your money soon. keep your trap shut.”

you peeked your eyes open, and after noticing that he opened the door, you got to your feet and left as fast as your wobbly feet could take you.

one month later. September 2020:

you came back from work and took off your jacket while listening to pending voicemails. most of them were just from your friends, but the last one was from the hospital. your father’s primary doctor had left a voicemail stating that they have found a kidney transplant match for your father. you played the voicemail over and over again, happy that your father can get better now. for the past month, you have held on to yoongi’s cheque, unsure if you should accept it, but what could possibly come before your father’s health? you walked to your room and pulled out the slightly tattered cheque from under the mattress. you looked at it with the same expression of disbelief as you have over the past four weeks. how can someone just hand over five hundred million korean won ($500,000) just like that? keeping it back in the safe place, you took a quick shower before heading over to the hospital to be with your father. he would probably rip out the kidney with his own two hands if he ever comes to know where the money came from, but you will just think of a lie when the time comes.

come next morning, you headed back to your place from the hospital to freshen up and head to work when a sealed official mail lying in front of your door caught your eye. the symbol of justice was unmistakable as you leaned down to pick it up. it was a court summons, and just like that, it was almost as if the earth stopped spinning, your surroundings blurred out as you read the letter. you are expected to appear in court next week thursday to testify. all five of your senses felt numb and hot at the same time as you made a run for your room to retrieve the cheque. you changed quickly, and instead of clocking in for work, you headed over to min specter firm. over the past month, you have gathered some intel on him. from the internet, you gathered that yoongi is a bigshot criminal lawyer who runs one of the most successful law firms in the country. he has completed his education from the top universities worldwide and charged a fortune for a single appearance in court. 

however, there was not much information available about any other aspects of his life.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

fifteen minutes later, you were standing in front of the trust tower in seocho-gu. the board on the front side of the building read “min specter legal firm” in bold.

you struggled to take another step forward because refusing his money is not the problem. the issue is what he will do with you next. he is not the type to just let you walk free after you inform him that you intend to testify in court, after all.

“hey, y/n. eonnie, is that you?” a familiar voice broke you from your trance.

you turned to your left when you recognized the owner of the voice. your favourite junior-classman from high school; rei.

“yeah, it’s me. rei, oh my god, i am seeing you after graduation?”

“yes!” rei smiled before leaning in to hug you.

you stood there for mere seconds, your hands lying limp by your side before you eventually hugged her back. you closed your eyes after resting your chin on her shoulder, feeling less stressed as your tensed form relaxed under her reassuring taps on your back.

“what are you doing here?” rei asked upon pulling back from the hug.

“uh, i am here to meet min yoongi.”

“you are? is everything alright? are you in trouble?” she inquired as you both headed inside the building.

“h-how do you know?” you turned to her, visibly shocked.

“well, you don’t meet up with min sir, if you don’t have a business to discuss.”

“oh yeah, that. right. what about you?”

“oh, i work here.”

you both walked to the elevator as rei clicked on the floor button.

“you are an advocate?”

“yes, ma’am. i just graduated a few months ago, so i am fairly a newbie.”

you nodded, “can you show me which way his office is?”

“of course,” rei smiled at you, but it turned to a frown when you kept staring ahead, pointlessly, at the closed elevator doors.

rei extended her hand and kept it on your closed fist, giving it a squeeze, “don’t be nervous. i know sir does not take on a lot of cases, but even if he refuses you, i am here for you. let me know if i can help you.”

you looked at her with a smile on your face this time as the doors opened, “i will keep that in mind.”

rei flashed you a smile before showing you off to yoongi’s chamber. you bid goodbye to her before giving your name to yoongi’s assistant sat outside in the lobby.

you were called to his chamber within five minutes. timidly, you walked through the large oak double doors after knocking.

“what is it?” yoongi leaned back in his chair, his eyes trained lazily at you.

“i can’t do it,” you brought out the cheque from your trackpants pocket and kept it on the edge of his enormous oak table.

“what, do you want more money? is that it?” yoongi asked, crumpling up the cheque and tossing it in the bin.

you shook your head, “i can’t take a penny from you. it’s blood money.”

“your dad is literally on the verge of death. are you sure that argument matters?”

“i don’t know what matters or doesn’t. i will admit, i was blinded by the money, by the thought of seeing my father healthy again, but i got the court summons today, and it did help me snap out of that superficial happiness. my dad raised me better.”

“yes, and this is how you are repaying him by choosing death for him. literally.”

“exactly. this is how i am repaying him, to this extent.”

yoongi shook his head, “i have a murder trial hearing in two hours. my junior is supposed to come to brief me in maybe another twenty minutes or so. give me one reason why i shouldn’t just get rid of you and be done with this whole business once and for all.”

“i am trying, but i just can’t take that money. you can’t stop me from showing up at court next week.”

“are you sure? i can make a phone call, and you will end up the same way as the guy over whom you are holding this candle of morality.”

“please, don’t kill me. much like everybody else, i do not want to die.”

“i have no intention of having you killed, or i would have made that phone call quite some time ago. getting someone killed is easier said than done, little one. it will only cause me more issues. on the other hand, making your life difficult can be easily arranged.”

“then, i guess we have reached an impasse.”

“not yet.” yoongi tapped a button on the telephone, “jungha, can you summon that rei kid for me? thanks.”

“why are you calling rei?” worry graced your features.

“oh, you know rei?”

“yeah, she was my junior in school.”

“wow, this is only getting better and better.” an evil smile appeared on his face, “so listen carefully, when she comes here, i am going to make an offer with her as a witness. and if you refute it, i will fire her, and i will make your life hell, including your dying dad’s.”

before you could reject or agree with the notion, there was a knock at the door as rei walked in.

“oh, i am sorry, sir. i was unaware that you were with a client. i can come back later?”

yoongi shook his hand and pointed to the empty chair beside you, “she is no client. she is my fiancée.”

rei’s head turned to you in a flash. you are sure she must have gotten whiplash from it.

“you guys are engaged?” her eyes fleeted between her boss and you, in quite the frenzied manner.

you kept quiet, unsure where yoongi was taking this. was he trying to test you in some way?

“yeah. i asked you here for another issue, however. can you tell me what is the validity of testimony in criminal cases if spousal privilege is invoked?”

“oh, it would be inadmissible because the other spouse can just refuse to disclose any conversation as part of the confidential marital communications.”

“right,” yoongi turned to you, the same evil smile on his face, “are you free this monday, miss park?”

so this is where marriage comes up. he would be basically buying off your witness testimony.

rei nodded, “yes, sir, i am.”

“good. can you come over to the registrars' office on monday morning? y/n would need a witness for the marriage, but her dad is sick and cannot attend.”

“me?” rei turned to you again.

you finally looked at her. either you agree with yoongi, or you would be dragging rei along with your father in this mess. you have known rei from middle school through high school. while you had lost your mother at a young age, rei had lost both her parents. when you passed high school while rei still had a year left, she cried her heart out on the graduation day because you were one of the only few people who ever cared for her. you have always empathized with her, and dragging her down with you seemed downright cruel.

“yes, rei. i would like that,” you faked a smile.

“i would be honoured to, eonnie.” rei stated before leaving you alone with yoongi again.

“so, you can use your head after all,” yoongi commented after the doors closed behind rei.

“i don’t see the point of making her suffer.”

“aw, i almost forgot about your self-righteous meter. it has far surpassed the skies. anyways, i will see you on monday. if you have any boyfriend or whatever, hope three days are enough to break up and wrap up any other business.”

“please, think about it again. can’t we take another option? you don’t even know me! nor do i, you.”

“don’t care. i don’t date, i don’t have time for any of this bullshit, and i already did give you other options. this is the last bit of rope i am willing to throw you at having a life and watching your loved ones living their lives happily,” yoongi stood up, his fair veiny hands buttoning his blazer buttons, “see yourself out. i have to do the briefing for a case. see you later, little one,” yoongi pat the top of your head in the most patronizing manner before walking out, leaving you alone in his office, all alone with nothing but your conflicting thoughts.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

“isn’t this your senior prom dress?” rei asked as she tried to do an up-do on your hair. you already told her that it is alright, but she insisted you look the best on your special day. it made you almost snort in derision, your best day.

sure.

“yeah.”

“thought you wanted to wear your mother’s dress at your wedding.”

you almost stopped breathing on hearing that. yes, that is what you had always dreamt of doing, of walking down the aisle in your mom’s beautiful wedding dress. you still keep her picture adorning the beautiful dress over your dresser. she looked so graceful, a genuine smile on her face. that is what you had always visualized your special day to be and not this, definitely not this. with a stranger, in the registrar’s office, without the presence of your father, all because you refuse to cower down to the way of this unfair world.

“yeah, uh, it got torn during a move and is non-restorable,” you lied straight through your teeth.

“really? that’s too bad. okay, here, look,” she turned the front camera on her phone before handing it to you, “hope you like it.”

you took the phone and stared at your face on the screen. It was just a reminder of what reality has turned into and what you are about to walk into. handing back the phone to her, you faked a smile, “i love it.”

rei just stared at you, seeing right through your fake smile, “why don’t i believe that?”

“no, seriously. you have done a good job, love!”

“no, i mean. can i ask you something?” she continued after you gave her a nod, “are you really sure about sir? i don’t mean to sound too rude, but you two look like you have never even been in each other’s presence before.”

“i guess that’s just how we are,” you shrugged and watched yoongi walk towards you both. he was dressed in one of his usual suits.

“we are next,” he announced with his arrival and turned to rei, “did you get the next date for that theft case?”

“yes, i did,” the pair continued talking about the details of some case when rei stopped and turned to you, “sir, it’s your wedding day. let’s not talk about work.”

“yeah. that. right. totally slipped my mind,” yoongi mumbled, “thanks for, uh, taking care of,” his eyes turned to your face as he tried to remember your name, “my, um, bride.”

you stared at him in sheer disbelief and with disdain. did he just stutter while remembering your name? so now he cannot even remember your name?

after yoongi’s witness, kim seokjin and his wife inaya came over, the group of you headed inside the registrar’s office.

yoongi was the first to sign the documents before turning the marriage register and prenuptial document towards you.

your gaze was strictly trained at him, your hands shaking as they got the hold of the pen from his hand. your eyes still pleading him to not take such a drastic step. you knew he was not going to budge, yet you tried that one last time before finally signing both the documents, sealing your fate with his.

the registrar attested the document, and after all the formalities were over, the group headed outside.

“you know, we met because of you,” yoongi started in a sarcastic tone, addressing seokjin.

“ah, yoongi-ah, you don’t have to thank me,” seokjin laughed, knowing very well what yoongi was hinting at, but he could not miss the opportunity to tease the younger man.

“no, hyung, i am so grateful to you,” yoongi gritted further. his tone was in complete contrast with his jovial expressions, “i can never thank you enough.”

seokjin tried to stop his laughter but failed tragically, “cheer up yoongi. you were the only bachelor in our group, and i was sad to see you so lonely.”

“oh! you were concerned about me???” yoongi’s voice almost went up an octave in absolute exaggeration.

“of course! we all were!” seokjin turned to you, “we are kind of a big group, y/n. would you like to have us over some time so we can all get to know you better? i only want to see yoongi happy. you know, put a smile on that stoic face.”

you were caught off-guard when seokjin addressed you. after rei left, you were stood quietly beside yoongi while the two men talked. you did not fail to note the sarcastic tone of your newly-wed husband while he spoke about you. well, the feeling is mutual. you are not ecstatic about him, either.

you almost wanted to curse seokjin out. yoongi is correct, this whole thing is happening because of him, but inaya was there, who clearly looked like she was unaware of the situation, so you chose not to lash out publicly, “of course, mr kim. that would be lovely.”

“it would be so nice to spend time with you, and rei too, she was nice,” inaya spoke up, smiling at you.

you smiled back, “i would like that very much. i will have rei over as well.”

“well, the girls have decided then.”

yoongi fought off the urge to roll his eyes as the couple took their leave.

“i have to go to court,” he spoke after taking a glance at his wristwatch, “my driver will take you to my place.”

“alright. i will be gone to the hospital till late.”

yoongi shrugged, “hardly matters to me. i am home mostly after ten in the night.”

“oh. okay,” you replied before getting in the car, and the driver first dropped off yoongi at the court before taking you to his place. 

you stepped out of the car, your eyes stuck at the beautiful architectural monument in front of you. while the driver unloaded your luggage from the vehicle, your eyes fell on a lady dressed in a black dress with a white apron, stood at the front door. she resembled one of those maids from the eighty’s movies. her hair was prim and proper, her posture — the epitome of vintage high ladies.

“this way, ma’am,” the driver spoke up as he carried your luggage towards the entrance.

you followed him quietly till you saw the lady approaching you. she had the kindest smile you have ever encountered. although her skin was riddled with wrinkles, her features were sharp, nonetheless. she reminded you a lot of your own dead mother.

“i am juyun, ma’am, and i have been at mr min’s service for more than a decade. i am his family housekeeper. it’s so great to meet you.”

“please call me y/n, and it’s great to meet you, as well.”

“oh, i can never, ma’am. that would be inappropriate. if you kindly will, this way,” she twisted open the handle on the front door to usher you inside.

you walked inside the house as prompted by the kind maid. the driver brought your luggage and placed it in yoongi’s bedroom. early in the morning, yoongi had picked you up from your place along with your stuff. first, you headed to the registrar’s office and now here you are. within a matter of a few hours, your address, your marital status and your fate changed.

you looked around the house, which was nothing less than a palace.

“would you like to take a look around?” the kind maid, juyun, spoke up when you kept looking at the expensive paintings mounted on the wall.

“no, thank you. i have to go meet my father.”

“would you like me to draw a bath for you, instead?”

“yes, that would be nice,” you turned to her after finishing your short eye-tour.

juyun nodded and walked to yoongi’s room with you on her tow. one look around the room, and you knew it was yoongi’s bedroom. neatly organized and a hundred per cent devoid of any kind of personal memento, almost like it is specifically designed to be devoid of any personal touch.

“can you set up my room in the guest room, please?”

“as you say, ma’am.” juyun agreed at once like it was nothing odd. well, considering she has been in yoongi’s service for more than a decade, she clearly knew him better. 

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

later in the night, you were already asleep by the time yoongi came back home.

around one in the night, you woke up from a thudding noise on the window pane. you turned the bed lamp on and tried looking out the window but could see nothing other than a couple of branches of the maple tree on the porch. due to the night breeze, the branches might have been crashing against the window. turning the light off, you laid back down, but in the moonlight, the shadow of the branches on the opposite wall looked like a hunched over man in a dark overcoat.

you are not one to get scared, but the unrhythmic thudding of the branches against the glass pane in the dead of night, inside a strange new house and empty room gave you the chills. juyun had informed you that she leaves the household premises before nightfall, so you knew, yoongi and you were the only people left in the house.

not thinking much of it, you went to sleep that night only to find yourself in the exact same situation the very next night. you held the comforter close to your chest, the darkness around you leaving room for an eerie aura to envelope the air. additionally, the shapeless shadows formed by the tree's branches were nothing less than scary.

that night as you slept, you had the worst nightmare. you dreamt of being chased by a shapeless form who wanted nothing but to hurt you — hurt you bad. it was malicious and evil. it made no sense because you have never had nightmares like these.

you woke up to your ringtone blaring loudly. it was an unknown number, and you hesitated to answer it, but right before the call would finish ringing completely, you picked it up. it was the state prosecutor’s office asking you to come over so they can prep you for the trial tomorrow. right. you still have to appear in court. given how sly and resourceful yoongi is, you already had the feeling that even appearing in court would not really amount to anything. nonetheless, you were going to exhaust all your options at helping out the dead fellow.

thursday came in a blurry, and you were up all night thinking about all the possible outcomes. last night when yoongi came back home, he had come up to your room to ask you if you were still planning to show up at court. when you replied in the affirmative, he just laughed. there was an air of smugness surrounding him like he had already planned ahead, at least, five moves. 

at the first rays of sunlight illuminating your room, you left the bed and started searching up courtroom etiquettes online. you have never been more nervous in life, it felt like the most significant examination of your life and you, so badly, wanted to pass.

you rummaged through your luggage to pull out your only formal skirt. tucking the white dress shirt inside the skirt, you stood in front of the mirror in the washroom to look for any creases. sighing, you grabbed the comb and neatly gathered every strand of hair to tie it in a ponytail before walking out in a pair of heels.

yoongi was having his breakfast while reading the newspaper. he took one look at you before turning the page to the finance section, “someone knows how to clean up.”

you kept quiet and headed towards the door.

“i can drop you off, i mean i am going to court as well. courtesy of you.”

“i can go there myself, thank you,” you replied before exiting the house. the bus takes half an hour to reach the trial court compound, and you did not want to risk arriving late.

reaching the court compound, you found your way around and sat in the spectator stand, your hands sweating from feeling extremely anxious and nervous. you kept memorising how to refer the judge, ‘your honour, my name is y/n.’ ‘your highness?’ ‘no, your honour’ ‘or is it your lord/ladyship?’

“top of the morning to you, little one,” your husband whispered when he walked past you to the attorney table and sat on the left side. he was accompanied by another sharp-looking man dressed in a fine suit.

you rolled your eyes at that but kept sitting quietly. the stand filled up soon to about half of its capacity, and everyone rose to their feet once the judge entered the courtroom. the trial started within moments, and you watched the sharp-looking man, introduced as the defence counsel, mr harvey specter, skilfully refute every piece of evidence that the prosecution had built a case on. you were expecting your husband to fight the case, but he had his firm partner representing him. the whole exchange between the defence and prosecution went by in a flash. you tried to keep up with the arguments till you heard the prosecutor calling your name.

“your honour, i would like to call to the witness box prosecution’s last witness, y/n,” the public prosecutor said after presenting all the facts.

“permission granted,” presiding judge marly replied.

prompted by the prosecutor, you stood up and walked to the witness box. it was surreal and nothing like how it is usually portrayed on television.

“state your name for the record and relation to the case,” the judge asked once you were done repeating the words of affirmation.

“your honour, my name is y/n..” you trailed off.

“are you sure, dear? you sound unsure of it,” marly J. commented, her dominant hand scribbling away.

your eyes followed her hand, your own shaking a bit. you turned forward to notice that everyone in the courtroom had their eyes on you. mainly, that unmistakable predatory gaze of min yoongi, who looked like this was all a piece of cake for him.

“miss, can you state your name for the record and relation to the case,” the prosecutor repeated the judge’s words when you kept sitting quietly.

“i-i’m sorry. my name is y/n, and i heard a conversation regarding the murder.”

“can you tell the court what you heard? verbatim, if you will,” the prosecutor asked of you next.

you nodded and duly obliged, narrating the exact words of the conversation that you had heard that day.

“do you swear that this is a true and accurate statement?” the judge asked.

you nodded, “yes, your honour.”

“do you recognize that man,” the prosecutor pointed at yoongi, “as the one who had that particular phone call conversation?”

you followed the prosecutor’s hand and looked at yoongi, who winked at you. the gall of this man.

“yes, sir. that’s him.”

“let the record reflect that the witness has identified the defendant. no further questions, your honour,” the prosecutor walked to the attorney table and sat down.

mr specter stood up once the state prosecutor sat down. he fixed his blazer, buttoning it up as he walked to the stand and stood in front of you.

“miss, can you state your full name for the record? the name that you have taken over since your marriage,” he started.

“min y/n.”

“married to?”

“min yoongi,” your eyes boring holes into yoongi’s, who smirked a little at your tone.

“can you please tell the court what this is?” mr. specter brought over a piece of paper and handed it to you. 

you took the paper and glanced at it quickly, “it’s the marriage certificate of mr min and i.”

“very well, can you tell me when is it dated?”

“16th August...” you read out the date, and at the realization, your voice died down. it was back-dated. you married him two days ago, not one month ago but the date on the marriage certificate said otherwise. clearly attested by the government ordained registrar.

mr specter turned, “let the record show that the prime witness of the case is the wife of one of the named defendants, and the conversation took place after they were married.”

“objection your honour,” the prosecutor stood up, “relevancy.”

the judge turned to mr specter for his reasoning.

“your honour, the relevancy of this established fact will be shown to the courtroom very soon. in order to do that, i would like to call the defendant, min yoongi, to the stand.”

“very well. please proceed.”

you stood up and walked down, giving space for yoongi to take the seat. you were feeling airy headed since you knew precisely what yoongi was going to do. truth be told, you showed up at court today solely on that last morsel of hope that maybe your testimony can amount to anything, something, but yoongi was going to tear it all down to nothing.

“mr min, do you recognise this woman as your wife?” mr specter asked.

before yoongi could answer, however, the prosecutor spoke up.

“objection, your honour. already asked and answered. counsel is wasting the court's time.”

mr specter did not wait for the judge to rebuke him and started, “seems like my learned friend is in a hurry, so allow me to rephrase. do you recall having the conversation with or in front of your wife, min y/n?”

“no, your honour,” yoongi lied through his teeth, “i do not recall having that conversation even in the slightest. additionally, anything between my wife and i is protected under spousal privilege.”

“counsellors, approach the bench. you too, mr min,” marly J. commanded before walking to the attached judge’s room.

the prosecutor, mr specter and yoongi walked to the judge's room.

marly J. was sitting in her chair and had a distasteful scowl on her face, “mr min. my courtroom deals with criminal cases, not family issues.”

“i am well aware, your honour,” yoongi replied.

the judge turned to the prosecutor, “i believe your entire case was based on her testimony, but i cannot allow it.”

“your honour, please reconsider. this is the first time any witness has willingly testified against kim seokjin.”

“i cannot deny a citizen their right to the privileges they enjoy granted by the law. everyone is equal in front of the law. i cannot allow it. if there is nothing further that you can produce to stand your case, i am disposing of it.”

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

when the opposing counsels, along with your husband, had gone to talk to the judge personally, you could already guess the outcome of this whole stunt. defeated, you did not wait for the judge to pass the order and left for the hospital to be with your father.

that night, you were scared to fall asleep. counting sheep was not helping, neither was watching anything on the phone. your eyes drooped with sleep, but just as sleep started to seep in, you woke yourself up. but there is only so long till you can keep yourself up forcefully. soon you fell into a deep slumber and almost like a lucid dream as you saw the exact same nightmare. only this time — the figure had caught up and was about to hurt you, but you managed to wake yourself up just in time. now you know, the faceless figure is the dead man over whom you have, so far, risked and ruined your entire future. you have done your part. you cannot possibly fight a system alone when the corruption is at every micro-level.

on the fourth night, you seriously debated what to do about this situation. during all this time, you have had absolutely zero interaction with your so-called husband. he left for work around nine and came back around eleven, had his meals alone as you had a different daily routine. juyun took care of everything around the house, so it was not like your presence was required anywhere. you kept yourself limited in the four walls of the guest room while you were in the place, the rest of the time you spent with your father, who was getting the treatment he needed. amidst the quiet of the night, as your mind raced through all these thoughts, a car horn from the main road caused you to flinch.

“fuck it,” you mumbled before getting out of bed. grabbing a t-shirt, you put it on over your racer-back tank and headed out into the doorway. you do not know exactly remember which way was yoongi’s room and amidst the dimly lit hallways, all the corners looked the same, but you kept walking forward till you came upon a door, wherefrom under the small gap at the bottom, a faint light was coming out causing you to knock at it.

there was a shuffle of sheets, and the door opened to reveal yoongi in his pyjamas. he was wearing a t-shirt with a pair of joggers, not much different than your attire.

“what?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

“i can’t sleep,” you admitted shyly.

“i don’t know any lullabies,” he walked in, leaving the door open. you walked in too, closing the door behind you.

“no. i mean, can i sleep here tonight? i’ll sleep on the couch.”

“whatever,” yoongi replied before sitting on the bed with his laptop as he resumed typing something.

you sauntered to the couch and sat on it first, watching yoongi work. he was not lying. he really did not care and continued typing whatever he was working on.

you took off your slippers and pulled your bent legs on the couch, letting your head rest on one of the armrests. your eyes were trained at him, your arms crossed over your chest in a fight or flight mode.

sleep took over soon, but it was uncomfortable to lie in that awkward position. you kept repositioning your head or your legs in the sleep, not being able to drift into a deeper sleep that your tired body needed.

yoongi finished his draft in about two hours. he turned off his laptop and looked up to see you still curled up in that uncomfortable position. for the past two hours, he has not failed to note that you could not sleep properly. he stood up, keeping away his laptop on his desk before walking to you. he let a kick on one of the legs of the couch, causing a vibration.

“get up.”

by the third kick, you woke up, squinting your eyes open. yoongi was standing in front of you, hands in his pocket, “what?”

“get on the bed.”

you sat up at once, alarmed at his words. 

“whoa, whoa, i am not trying to jump you. it’s three in the morning, little one. i finished a draft, and i only want to sleep now. so just get on the bed. you are clearly uncomfortable.”

“promise you won’t touch me?” you asked, massaging the back of your aching neck.

he nodded tiredly, “go ahead. you can sleep on the right side. the left is mine,” he said before heading to the washroom.

you walked to his bed and crawled on the right side of the extra comfortable king-sized bed. by the time you settled under the warm covers, yoongi came out of the washroom and joined you. he turned off the lights and turned his back to you after getting inside the covers.

November 2020:

over the past two months of your early married days, your interaction with your husband has been questionably none. some nights, you overcome your fears and sleep in the guest room, other nights when they overcome your conscience, you end up sleeping with yoongi again, in his bed, against his warmth but that is about it. there is never much talk.

some days it feels like he is intentionally ignoring you or avoiding to talk to you but with time you have concluded that he is a busy person in general and is not exactly putting up a front to ignore you.

some other days, it feels like he is just putting up a show but he has other intentions. like when he shifts in his sleep and his hand sometimes falls on your chest, his fingers almost moulding to the shape of your breast causing you to glare at him but his soft snores are evidence enough that he is clearly asleep and the movement is unconscious.

either ways, he is a not a man of a lot of words. or maybe he is, considering he is an advocate. you don’t really know, and he never leaves space for you to know him any better. your marriage is a sham and will never pick up pace, so you turn your focus to the one constant in your life; your father.

after receiving the best cancer treatment (curtesy of your generous husband), your father did get better last month but after a few weeks, he started deteriorating again. the doctor has already informed you that there is no hope and you know too, that look in his eyes is unmistakable. more or less, you have accepted it but that has not brought any break in your daily routine.

every morning you wake up alone in the bed as yoongi wakes up before you, take a quick shower, finish your morning routine and breakfast and then head over to the hospital to spend time with your father. most days you read to him, while on others, he reminisces about his past and tells you more stories about your mother than you have ever heard since your childhood.

you were flipping through the pages of wuthering heights, trying to look for the last line that you read when your father’s eyes fell on your wedding ring.

“what’s that?” he asked, his eyes stuck at your ring finger.

“hm?” you softly hummed, very much invested in finding the bookmark till you followed his gaze and gulped. you must have forgotten to take it off before walking in his room a few hours ago, “it’s a ring.”

“for what?”

“fashion, dad. it’s just a ring,” you shrugged it off confidently, turning your gaze back to the book.

your father sighed. he knows you, he knows no matter how hard he is going to try, he will not be receiving a straight reply from you, “i still don’t understand how you can afford this CCU room. i asked a nurse and the per-day cost is more than our monthly rent.”

“i have told you, dad, just let me handle it the best way that i can,” you mumbled before finding the pencil mark and started to read again;

“i’m wearying to escape into that glorious world, and to be always there: not seeing it dimly through tears, and yearning for it through the walls of an aching heart: but really with it, and in —.”

“y/n, is there something you are hiding from me?” your father cut you off in the middle.

you sighed, putting down the book on your lap, your index finger keeping the book from closing, “not really. everything is fine, as always. i have handled everything, as always.”

your father turned his gaze back to the ceiling above his head, the same ceiling that he has been staring at for over a month now, “you know... your mother loved this book. her favourite line was honest people don't hide their deeds, and she truly lived by those words.”

“i am not hiding anyth—”

your father cut you off again. he overlooked your words as he was speaking in a flow, “i will forever regret that i couldn’t send you off to a good university. you were always the best in your class, always at a higher reading level than your current grade, and yet because of our family condition, you could not attend a university. like you deserved to.”

your hands closed the book shut, eyes now stuck to the graphic design of the cover as your father continued.

“and now i won’t be there to walk you down the aisle when you meet your prince charming.”

you unconsciously played with the wedding ring till you took it off and pocketed it.

“forgive me, y/n. turns out i am not the father that i should have been to you. i couldn’t support you financially, and i won’t be there for the rest of your life either. please forgive me.”

your vision turned blurry as tears welled up in your eyes, “stop saying that.”

“it’s the truth! you’re a good kid, baby. the best i could ever imagine having. all i can wish for till my last breath now is that you get the prince you deserve. a good guy who will take care of you better than i ever could.”

“stop saying that!” your enraged voice went up, unintentionally, “no can ever take care of me better than you did as a single dad. so just stop saying that. i will come again tomorrow,” keeping your head bowed down, you walked out of the room swiftly before your father could further protest.

sniffling in the hallway, you speed-walked to the restroom to bawl your eyes out. the moment your eyes met the mirror, the tears fell like an incessant waterfall. it took you around fifteen minutes to calm down, till your tears turned to a bitter chuckle as you laughed at the irony of your life. freshening up, you were drying your hands when you remembered that this is the exact place where your downfall started. the universe indeed has a wicked way to rub your face in it.

composing yourself, you left the hospital building to make your way back to the place you have been calling ‘home’ for the last two months. it did not feel like home. even the walls were unwelcoming. you had nothing to do. your status was nothing more than a piece of wall furniture, not even a fancy one at that. probably the cheapest one that your husband owns.

there were no visitors, no family, just the maid who leaves every evening after preparing dinner. everything around the house is always taken care of. visiting your father every day was the only sort of routine you had in place, but that would come to an end soon, as well, just like everything does in your life.

“you are back early today, miss,” juyun spoke up when you walked into the living room. she was in the process of dusting the window panes.

“yeah...” you trailed off, meaning to walk away but stood your place, “i remember on my first day, you had mentioned that you are yoongi’s family housekeeper.”

juyun straightened up with pride at the mention of her employment history, “yes. i have served the min family diligently, ma’am and wish to do so till my bones cannot take it anymore.”

“so what about his family? where are they now?”

juyun’s proud smile vanished within seconds at your question. oh, you don’t know.

“i thought you knew, miss.”

“what do you mean?” your eyebrows furrowed with confusion as yoongi had never mentioned his family. he hardly speaks two-three words to you, let alone talk about his family.

“around five years ago mr and mrs min died in a car crash.”

“i’m sorry,” your blood turned cold at the revelation. your fate must be so tainted that you do not even have in-laws to call a family.

“they were murdered, miss,” juyun continued, tears streaming down her face, “your husband was still making his name in the legal world, and he had put an evil man in jail. a gang-man who had killed many, and then one day, mr and mrs min were hit by a truck when they were on their way back home. it was clear as day that the gang-man was behind this. then yoongi sir met with seokjin sir and soon founded his firm.”

“is the gang member still behind bars?”

“oh no, miss. he is dead. he was murdered in his own cell. police suspected some gang rivalry.”

juyun’s tone was sincere as she narrated the story to you, but it did not take you a moment to connect the dots. your father used to call you miss holmes due to how quickly you can see the bigger picture even with incomplete facts, half stories or wrong clues. honestly, you are the one who finds it annoying when people cannot see through the truth, it is always glaring them straight in the face, but they choose not to see it.

yoongi must be behind the death of the gang member, he must have taken help from seokjin, and then jeongguk must have taken care of the police. it was clear as the day really, the affiliations are apparent enough. after all, you are another victim of the same affiliations, only.

“where’s your ring, miss?” juyun asked, her hands touching your bare finger.

“oh, i took it off to wash my hands,” you brought the ring out of your dress pocket and wore it, “there.”

“it’s gold, dear. you don’t have to take it off when touching the water.”

“right. will keep it in mind next time,” you smiled before making your way to your room.

when yoongi came to bed after finishing work that night, he was surprised to find you awake. you are usually asleep by the time he comes.

during the first month, he would walk to the washroom to change, but he has stopped bothering. your face is usually turned towards the wall near the bed, so these days, he just changes in the room itself.

“can’t sleep?” he asked, changing out of his dress pants and into a fresh pair of sweats.

“no, was just lost in thoughts,” you turned back unbeknownst that his upper body was bare as he just took off his shirt, “i-i’m sorry,” you closed your eyes shut.

yoongi snickered noiselessly on noting that you did not close your eyes immediately, but after taking a good look at his body, “ahha,” he hummed after putting on the t-shirt and walking to the washroom to freshen up.

“can i ask you something?”

yoongi stepped out of the washroom and made his way to the bed, “go ahead,” he raised the covers and got inside them.

“what happened to your parents?”

you rushed it. you asked the main question way too early before laying down any groundwork. he was in a good mood, but his expression turned into a scowl on hearing your question.

“i don’t wish to discuss my parents. ever. if you wish to gossip, feel free to leave because i need to sleep,” he turned his back to you.

see, this is what you do not get. why do you have to lay the groundwork for someone? why do you have to walk on eggshells around someone? why can’t you just ask min yoongi something ever and actually get a proper answer. are you not a receptive person? do you not deserve to be talked to? it is always the same with your husband. he never wants to talk, never wants to give you even the slightest glimpse of his life. all you want, all you need, all you wish — to just talk to someone, maybe tell them about how you are feeling internally, about your father, about this complicated fate that you have found yourself tangled in, about your future, what lays ahead — all you want is to talk. you are always making sure that you do not take too much space, trying to never bother anyone as everyone is doing their own work, always spending your time alone knowing that it is not anyone’s job to entertain you or hang out with you. no one has time for you. even life does not have time for you. you, on the other hand, have all the time in this world, always free, just laying around on the bed, eyes either stuck to the ceiling or out the window, watching couples, friends, family walking by, having fun, spending time with each other.

life must be colourful for them, unlike the black and white permanent filter veiling on yours.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

yoongi came back one day around seven in the evening, very much to your surprise. he sat down on the wingback chair placed adjacent to the sofa set on which you were sitting, watching a movie on television.

“don’t do that,” you rolled your eyes upon noticing through the peripheral vision that yoongi had brought out a cigarette and was about to light it up.

“i am not having a good day,” yoongi drawled out lazily before lighting up the cigarette.

you sighed, “well, i can’t really help much if you don’t share stuff with me.”

yoongi allowed his body to rest back against the plush upholstery of the wingback chair, his one leg resting over the other, “what do you want to know?”

you almost brushed over the reply till it hit you that he was actually giving you a chance to ask him what you wanted to know. your eyes went wide at the realization as you put the television on mute and turned to him, “are you serious?”

“don’t push your luck, little one. ask me what you want before i change my mind.”

you parted your lips intending to say something but shut yourself up. it is early days, and you cannot spook him off yet. going in slow would be the best option. he will let you in eventually, but you have to be patient. nodding to yourself, you turned to him, “did something happen at work? you’re back early.”

“not really,” there was an uncomfortable silence; the smoke from his lit up cigarette, held tightly between his long fingers, formed a cloud before he brought it up to his lips and took a drag, “a dumb cop filed the wrong charge-sheet against a client of mine and then my junior had the absolute audacity to let his phone ring inside the courtroom. kids these days are fucking embarrassing.”

you nodded, not to anyone in particular, acknowledging what he talked about. it did not seem that big of a deal, but you guessed it was one to yoongi. 

you started thinking again before asking the second question. the last thing you want is for him to shut off as usual, “is there something that i can help you with?”

you were not expecting him to reply in the affirmative, but it made your ears perk up when he did. you can be of some use to someone? anyone? wow, what a day.

“yes, actually. thanks for reminding me. seokjin hyung is eating my head off about the gathering. he wants to call the boys and their wives to meet you. i swear if hyung and jeongguk text me one more time about this, i will block them.”

“we can have them over. i don’t mind. it would be nice to have people over, i guess. i mean, i would love to look over the arrangements and meet them.”

“you sure? they can be a handful. they are basically adults on steroids.”

you giggled softly at the comparison, “can’t be that bad.”

“fine. don’t say i did not warn you in advance.”

you went to add something more, but his phone started ringing.

“guess time’s up,” your husband put out the cigarette before making his way towards his study. he stopped in his tracks and turned to pat your head, “good talk.”

you watched him leaving just as smoothly as he had arrived, “condescending, cold bastard,” rolling your eyes, you went back to watching the movie.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

jung hoseok was the first one to arrive. as informed by your deeply cherished husband, you know that he manages the biggest chain of hotels in south asia and has been a loyal client of yoongi’s for almost six years now.

“hello, mr. jung,” you smiled politely as he was let inside the living room by juyun.

“oh hey, you must be y/n. it’s great to finally meet you,” he smiled back with the same fervour.

“and your wife...?” you trailed off, unsure. as far as you remember, yoongi did mention that all his friends were married.

“ah, dany is at home with our son. he is only five months old, so she doesn’t really leave the house much.”

“oh! congratulations on the baby boy.”

“yeah,” hoseok nodded awkwardly as the conversation turned silent, “well, i hope you don’t mind that i am here early. i came here directly from work. had i gone back home, i would have just fallen asleep.”

you nodded at that, but before you could reply, yoongi came down from his bedroom. juyun must have informed him that hoseok was here.

“i’ll take it from here,” yoongi’s hand brushed against the small of your back as he smiled at hoseok, “let’s talk in my study till the rest of the party arrives.”

hoseok nodded, and both the men left for yoongi’s study room. you kept standing there, thinking about the way he left, but his touch lingered on your skin through the fabric of your black a-line dress. it burned through your being, and you craved it more, just like you do every night when he scoots a little bit too close. 

you must have been standing there for a few minutes because the next thing you heard was the honk of a car pulling up in the driveaway.

yes, more guests. your hands instinctively straightened your wrinkle-free dress to greet the guests.

“ah, you,” your lips broke into a rhetoric smile when your eyes spotted jeon jeongguk.

jeongguk shrugged, smiling back, “hello, miss.”

“do you guys know each other?” a soft female voice from behind him caused you to crane your neck sideways till the figure came out in front.

jeongguk turned to his wife, “know? yoongi hyung met her cause of me! it’s a shame they did not call me to the wedding.”

“really? that’s nice,” the girl turned to you, a smile on her face, “i am azumi, jeongguk’s wife.”

“where’s hyung?” jeongguk asked after taking a look around.

“he’s in the study with mr. jung,” you informed him.

“sweet. i believe you ladies would certainly find something to talk about,” he smiled at his wife before walking away.

you just stared at azumi, not knowing what to say or do. you have spent most of your adult life working, taking care of your father and then locking yourself up in your room. that was your ‘me’ time. socialising, going out, having friends is not something you are good at, even by a tiny bit.

“can.. we sit?” azumi asked, gesturing at the couch.

“a-o-of course! sorry, my bad. i didn’t ask you to even sit.”

“it’s fine. happens to the best of us, don’t worry. you’ve got this,” azumi smiled, grabbing your hand as she walked to the couch and sat down with you beside her.

you felt relieved. you are not an anti-social person. you just need the proper nudge to open up and talk.

azumi almost had the opposite personality as you. she was charming, bubbly and knew her way around words. it almost seems like a cruel joke that her husband is jeon jeongguk. well, she seemed clearly ignorant of the exploits of his corruption. that much was clear.

“oh and then tanaz and i we- wait, do you know tanaz?” azumi asked in the middle of telling you about her university life.

you shook your head a no, “i’m afraid not.”

“don’t worry! you’ll know when they come over. she’s my best friend. we’ve known each other since we were kids.”

your fingers softly played with each other, your clasped hands lying in your lap, “that must be nice.”

“yeah, it is. you must already know inaya, at least?”

“i have met her, but we haven’t talked much, really.”

“oh...” azumi sighed. she could easily sense that this was all new to you, and she has been trying to make you loosen up, but so far, it has not worked well, “is there anyone coming tonight that you know?”

“yeah! rei is coming, she’s my friend. not exactly my friend, more like my little sister, but i’ve known her since school!” you beamed almost, happy that you also have someone in your life that you have known for a while. life is not that bad. you have some aspects like most normal people, as well. and knowing that, just that fact gave you satisfaction at the moment.

azumi grinned at your enthusiasm. yes, it finally worked!

around twenty minutes later, rei finally came, and so did inaya and seokjin.

“you’re late, miss,” you huffed as rei walked to you, giving you a brief hug.

“i know, i know, i wanted to get something for you, but nothing just seemed right.”

“what? no! you didn’t have to.”

“psst, not taking a no. here,” she handed you a gift-wrapped packet.

“i’ll check it later.”

“no! open it now. i want to see if you like it,” she urged you till you finally gave in and took off the wrapping paper to reveal a picture frame. it contained an old picture of you with rei, back from high school. the photo was taken on sports day, dressed in matching uniforms and cute braided pigtails. you were pinching rei’s cheeks, who was trying to escape your hold.

“i think i am the only one who has a copy. so, i want you to have it,” rei smiled eagerly, waiting for your reaction, but you kept staring at the picture, your eyes turning glassy.

“i love it. thank you. thank you so much,” you sniffled once, soaking your tears back in before putting up the frame on top of the fireplace, “and this is...?” you gestured towards the male who had accompanied rei and was now talking with seokjin. the two men had struck up quite a conversation.

“that’s um, jimin-ssi,” rei turned towards the jimin-person who noticed you both staring at him, so he flashed you both a toothy smile causing you to smile back in return.

“boyfriend?” you grinned, turning back to rei.

“uhh, we got married last month.”

“wait a second, you got married? what?”

“it’s a long story,” rei mumbled, her gaze towards azumi, “i’ll tell you later.”

you followed her gaze and nodded, “right. come here, this is azumi, and you surely remember inaya.”

rei nodded before joining the girls. another five-six minutes and taehyung and his wife, tanaz, arrived. the men came out to the living room as well, and yoongi introduced you to all of them one by one while you introduced jimin to them.

late into the party after concluding dinner, you turned around yourself. everyone seemed to be having a good time. it made you genuinely smile. after months, you had something to do, arrange a party you had never done before. one-night yoongi came back and informed you that the party was going to be on friday night. that was on a wednesday, so basically you had two days to arrange everything. juyun was glad to help, but she offered you took the lead and asked you to manage everything before asking for her help. at first, it terrified you because you did not want to screw up, not at your first gathering, but it was thrilling, too. you went shopping for hours, took hours to finalise the dishes, the drinks, the décor, everything. and to see it all come together nicely, your smile only grew fonder.

“so, why do i get a vibe that you guys don’t like jeongguk?” azumi asked suddenly, making all of you quiet down.

the men were sitting separately on the other side of the room, drinking and smoking. they had a completely different conversation going on, more like they were in their own world.

tanaz was the one who broke the silence, “’cause he’s an asshole.”

“hey, that’s rude!” azumi smacked tanaz’s arm lightly in mock retaliation.

while they laughed it out, inaya and you just exchanged the ‘who’s gonna tell her’ look between each other. seems like no one really liked jeongguk.

“what? he’s a jerk, and so is dr taehyung,” tanaz scoffed, finishing her wine in a gulp. there was a certain tinge of anger laced with her voice when she enunciated the doctor.

inaya cringed at it, “aria eonnie is testimony to that.”

tanaz chuckled, “she sure is.”

azumi kept quiet at the comment, choosing not to go into further details. you certainly did not know any of them enough to contribute to the conversation. while rei quietly observed the girls, her gaze moving back and forth between them like a bobblehead.

tanaz stood up to refill her glass, “rei is awfully quiet tonight,” she poured some more of the red fluid into her wineglass.

“oh, this is all new to me. i am still processing it in,” rei smiled sheepishly, “you guys seem very close, i mean from the way you are bitching about your husbands.”

“bitching? if only,” azumi let a bitter laugh.

rei turned to you first, to which you only gave a shrug, so she continued, “am i missing something?”

“oh no, you are fine, darling. ignore us,” tanaz tutted back to resume her place, “tell us about yourself. what do you do?”

“i am an advocate. i work in yoongi sir’s firm.”

“that’s amazing! where did you meet that charming devil?” azumi asked, her eyes gesturing to where jimin was sitting, talking with jeongguk.

“at work..” rei trailed off.

“really? i thought you said he was a dance teacher?” you inquired further.

“he is. he is a choreographer and works mainly in the k-industry, but we met at work. it’s a long story really,” rei dismissed your queries and chugged down her wine.

“if you don’t mind my asking, how old are you? you look quite young,” azumi asked after rei refilled her glass.

rei turned to her, “i can say the same, really. you hardly look older than me. if you don’t mind my asking, how old are you?”

azumi laughed at rei’s defensive tone, “wah, forgot you are a lawyer for a second. it’s not an interrogation. we are all friends only.”

rei joined her and laughed too, “i’m just kidding. i’m twenty-two.”

“oh,” tanaz paused and turned to inaya, “turns out we have another member joining the maknae club.”

“welcome to the club,” inaya clinked her wine-glass against rei’s at that but kept the glass away, not taking a sip.

“tell us about your married life,” tanaz asked further. rei was a new target, and the girls indeed loved hassling her. it was fun to watch rei getting flustered, so you allowed yourself to indulge as well instead of saving her, like rei wanted, evident from her pleading eyes every time she looked at you. she was indeed not the extrovert of the bunch.

“it’s certainly a new experience,” rei let a soft sigh.

“yes, the honeymoon phase. it’ll fade away soon, believe me. ask inaya, she’s been doing this for four years,” azumi was the one to reply this time.

inaya did not register the statement as her eyes were stuck at her husband’s figure.

“inaya?” azumi touched inaya’s hand, causing the latter to flinch as she was brought out of her thoughts.

“i’m sorry. what’d i miss?” her eyes travelled between all of you ladies.

“nothing. tell us what’s going on with you,” this time, it was tanaz again who spoke.

“the usual, really,” inaya exhaled. it was more a mumble. her wine-glass went untouched, and when you brought that up, inaya seemed visibly dishevelled, “i can-can’t drink.”

“is everything alright?” you turned to her, worried this time.

inaya’s gaze moved towards her husband first, then to tanaz, who was quick to her rescue.

“she can’t drink cause of a medical condition.”

although the hesitancy in their voices indicated something more, it was not your place to pry further, so you left the topic alone.

the night grew, and the clock struck half-past ten. it was azumi who stood up first and made her way to her husband. 

she tapped on his shoulder, “we should get going. you’ve duty in the morning.”

jeongguk sighed, taking one last drag from the cigar before handing it over to hoseok, “yes, baby,” he turned to the men, standing up, “unlike you rich pricks, i have work in the morning.”

“mm, officer. thank you for your service,” seokjin mocked, gaining a laugh from the rest of them.

jeongguk chuckled, wearing his jacket, the right sleeve of which he kept getting wrong till azumi held it up for him to slide his right arm in.

you watched the couples quietly, as one by one, all of them took their leave after bidding you and your husband a goodnight. rei had stayed back to help you clean up till you literally had to scold her that you could handle it.

“she never takes no for an answer,” jimin spoke, his first words to you that night.

“yeah, she’s always been like that. take good care of her. she only has you.”

“oh my god, that’s so embarrassing,” rei groaned, rolling her eyes.

it felt like you guys were back in high school, making you giggle at her tone as you hit her head, “shut up. i have lived one year more than you. that’s 365 days more. eonnie knows better.”

rei was leaning against jimin’s figure, holding on to his arm, tired from the long day, but she straightened her back the moment yoongi walked in after seeing off the guests and stood by your side, “thank you for having us, sir.”

“not at all, rei. thanks for coming over. you too, mr. park.”

jimin nodded, shaking his hand before they set on their way as well.

you watched from the front door as jimin and rei got in their car and drove out of the porch. you walked back inside, closing and locking the door behind you.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

rei kept staring at jimin, who drove carefully, he was not drunk out of his senses but enough to make him tipsy.

jimin caught her constant stare, “what?”

“you smoked. i have never seen you smoke.”

“i don’t. that was just a cigar,” he shrugged.

“fine. did you have a good time?”

jimin nodded, changing gears after the signal turned green.

“see! and you thought you would be bored alone.”

“i was able to make friends, luckily that’s all. oh, by the way, i will be going out with jeongguk tomorrow for some drinks.”

“really? of all the people, you chose to be friends with that guy?”

“what do you mean?”

“i don’t like his vibe, i don’t know. there was also a weird tension between the ladies regarding jeongguk and taehyung,” rei shrugged, “it was all peculiar.”

“doll, you are overthinking. i will also be meeting with seokjin hyung about some work.”

rei let a soft sigh in reply before turning her gaze out the window, watching the tall buildings fly by in a blurry haze. 

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

it has been a while since the couples left. you retired to your room after cleaning up. a knock came and the door opened while you were in the middle of changing out of your dress.

“hey, just wanted to than- fuck, i am sorry,” yoongi closed his eyes, halfway inside the room.

“did something happen?” you asked, your hands pulling up your shorts in a second. you were clad in a t-shirt.

“no, i came to thank you.”

“you can look. it’s fine.”

yoongi peeped one eye open before blinking both of them open, “thanks for arranging the party. everyone had a good time.”

you nodded, noticing his stumbling gait, “you’re going to trip over that corner,” you grabbed his hand in a plea to sit him on the bed.

under the spell of alcohol, yoongi lost his balance and held on to your arms. you both stayed frozen at the moment. yoongi sitting at the edge of the bed, and you standing between his legs, his hands holding your arms. it did not matter how it happened, but the only thing your mind registered was yoongi’s lips on yours. you could taste the alcohol and cigar on his tongue, but it did not really matter, not when this was the first time kissing your husband. your arms lying by your side bent at the joints and raised up to touch his hair. his hands let you as you run your fingers through his hair.

yoongi pulled away and touched the side of your face with his slightly raised hand, “i wanna see your tits,” he mused lazily.

you batted your eyelashes, oh so lustily, before lifting your arms over your head to swiftly get rid of your t-shirt, which you had just adorned a few moments ago. your breasts hung inside one of your standard bralettes, and you saw yoongi’s hand extending towards your chest before it stopped mid-way, abruptly.

“how old are you, again?” he blinked before focusing his gaze back at your face.

“twenty-three,” you replied, your fingers playing with themselves enclosed within your clasped hands resting at the small of your back.

“fuck,” yoongi muttered a curse before retracting from your figure, “you are a fucking kid. do you know old i am? i am thirty-three. this is wrong,” he shook his head as if trying to break his daze from the alcoholic riddle.

before you could complain, he removed himself from your room at once and stumbled his way to his bedroom.

your hands unclasped and rattled with the sipper bottle placed on the nightstand for a countable few moments before you tipped it over in annoyance. this is okay. you can get past this. breathing sharply, you gathered the discarded t-shirt from the floor and made your way to the bed, sitting down with the fabric in your lap. 

maybe it is not okay, after all. how dare this atrocious and scandalous man marry you in a frenzy and then keep you locked away without so much as a bit of sexual relief. all these months, he would not even look at you, and now that he has, he sees you as a literal child. so he is a bit older than you? he should have thought of that beforehand. you did not ask for any of this, and he does not get to deny you anymore, not after the way he literally runs his devilish tongue over his lips. he can run them over yours. it is not really that difficult, not when you are entirely willing to hold your panties out of the way to give him better leverage.

balling up the t-shirt, you threw it at the couch before setting out towards your lawfully-wedded husband’s bedroom. you opened the door with a single push of your hand in the most dramatic way possible. upon entering, you noticed yoongi splayed out on the bed, still clad in his work clothes, the back of his dominant hand resting over his closed eyes, obscuring his vision. he did not bother to look up as he knew it was probably just you coming over to sleep on his bed. 

he is used to it now, but what he is not used to at all is the feeling of your unfamiliar lower figure settling around his crotch area. tearing away the hand from his eyes, he looked at you in shock only to find you making yourself comfortable on his reclined lap.

“the fuck is this, now?” he asked in apparent distaste.

too bad cause you are not going to have any of it, “i am not a minor, you know, and i am way over the legal age to drink alcohol even.”

“doesn’t change anything. i can’t do it—” his words were snatched right out of his mouth when he felt your hips moving, causing lewd friction between your heat and his crotch, “no no no,” he placed his hands on your hips in a plea to stop your movements, but you continued on. your eyes not breaking contact for a single moment, not even to blink.

“go ahead, stop me,” you shrugged nonchalantly, your heat hanging on to the zipper of his trousers, your hips still moving in a rhythm.

yoongi’s breathing went back to its average pace as he allowed himself to lay back down in the fortress of pillows, his eyes maintaining the contact that yours have established.

your hands lying by your side, now rested flat atop his chest, feeling every breath of his rumble inside the rib cage.

due to the lack of much-needed friction, you pushed aside the triangular patch of your shorts that barely covered the swell of your ass and placed your bare heat on top of his fully-clothed groin, soiling it a tad bit with your pre-lubrication.

“no panties, huh? did you want me to come and fuck you into the mattress?” yoongi finally asked when he felt your arousal forming a patch on the fabric of his trousers.

you shrugged, “i practically sleep naked every night. not that you would know—”

“i know,” he seethed this time, getting a hold of your wrists resting on his chest, “when you grind that sinful ass against my fucking dick in your sleep, i know, little one. i know.”

you did not mean to blush at his words, but you were practically gushing, glowing red all over when yoongi’s hands beckoned you closer to him.

“you don’t get to be shy. not now,” he tutted softly, his hands letting go of your wrists and grabbing onto each of your breasts. oh, how yoongi has restrained himself night after night from touching you, but he knew you were sleeping, and he did not want to risk doing the wrong thing, not when he did not know if you wanted it.

he kneaded your breasts from over the bralette that you were still adorning, “get rid of it.”

it was barely a whisper, but he did not need to repeat himself as you sprinted to action and completely unclothed your upper body.

yoongi’s hands now latched onto the globes of flesh, finally touching the soft skin. his touch was careful, needy, but gentle.

very unlike you, who was growing visibly impatient. you needed to have something stuffed deep inside you, preferably his dick, or else you would have to resort to touching yourself.

however, the extreme measures did not need to be acted upon as yoongi let go of your breasts and tapped on the side of your thigh, “c’mere.”

“what do you mean?” you shot him a confused look.

yoongi chose to keep quiet and, instead, locked his arms around your thighs, pulling your figure forwards.

you crawled up his chest hesitantly until your heat was, for all intents and purposes, right over his face.

“let it down,” yoongi tapped your thigh again.

you still held onto your weight and kept biting your lip, unsure.

“i won’t keep waiting forever, little one. i am trying to give you the release that you need, but if you hold back, there’s not much i can help with,” your husband spoke in his usual tone this time, his breath sending chills right up your spine.

you were slowly letting go of your weight, but yoongi fast-tracked the process by yanking your waist down till your heat was within the range of his tongue. his fingers manoeuvred the fabric of the shorts out of his way, his eyes stuck at your hardened nub. 

a squeal left your lips when his tongue darted out and touched your lower lips. the soft muscle was warm, but it felt ice-cold compared to your heat, causing you to shiver. the pointed tip of his tongue was not as gentle as his hands were as it prodded inside, inching past the outer lips of your labia. your hands rested against the headboard of the bed to support your figure as his tongue flicked the hardened nub. it did not take long to feel the moistened muscle lick your inner lips.

“oh—” you verbally let an exhale at the sensation, feeling short bursts of electricity in your pelvic region.

your intimate smell masked the air paired with the priceless view at your crotch from yoongi’s angle — the way your fleshy lips invited him in, the tender skin of your thighs, the way your arousal coated his tongue. he licked it all up and finally dived in to enjoy his five-star main course meal. yoongi tried his best to not use his hands and entice you with his tongue alone, but he had to use his fingers to hold your pussy lips apart. the further apart he held them, the deeper his tongue went, filling up your entrance. the further up his tongue reached, the closer he got to tasting your arousal. he brought his free hand over your clit, getting a hold of your sensitive nub. allowing his fingernails to graze against your skin, resulting in you squirming with each graze before he circled his thumb around the nub, applying pressure and gently massaging it in a circular motion. all the while, his tongue was lapping up your arousal. not letting you one moment breathe.

your hands clutched the headboard, the calf muscles straining from desperately trying to stay still but failing as they started shaking when his lips wrapped themselves around your labia and sucked on your slit.

yoongi let a slight slap on your inner thigh, “stay still, little one,” his voice was a mumble against your clit.

you whimpered at the vibration, your thighs inching closer towards his mouth, wanting to restore the earlier contact. yoongi softly chuckled at your actions before thrusting his tongue up your slit, holding your thighs apart. his tongue went in and out of your slit, licking a stripe up each time. the muscle circled the perimeter of the inner lips and started sucking relentlessly.

with the amount of pleasure and electricity pulsing through your veins, you did not even feel your orgasm ripping through. your juices had hardly even made their way out before yoongi’s tongue lapped them up and licked it all up. even that last drop which had slithered out onto your outer labia lips.

his tongue had you singing all sorts of songs — first, you started out with cursing out to your heart’s content when he nipped around your clit, giving you butterflies, then all that left your lips were soundless gasps and moans. only air escaped your lips while yoongi’s tongue thrust in and out of you. by the time you came, and he started licking clean every surface, your airy moans had reduced to downright whimpers similar to a mewling cat. your legs were shaking, one of your hands gripping the headboard while the other grabbing firmly onto his hair, your head resting against the wall — face first.

after yoongi made sure that he had not left out a single drop of your love juice, he finally let go of your thighs that he had locked between his arms to stop you from squirming away. the skin of your thighs where he held you down stretched after being released, and as the fresh air from the air conditioner touched the skin, it felt tickly even. his fingers imprints were growing clearly visible on your skin, including the mark from the metal of his wedding band. in a plea to catch your breath and reduce the strain of your calf muscles, you rested your legs carefully against the mattress, allowing your lower body to sit down, slow hands massaging the knees when the mattress behind you shifted.

yoongi had sat up, and while you recovered, he got rid of his suit blazer. The matching trousers followed next. his knees delved into the mattress as he unbuttoned his shirt when you turned back to him. grinning as your eyes took in the new expanse of untouched skin, you advanced towards him. your sneaky fingers pushing down the bands on either side of his underwear to unsheathe his hard length.

“i would like to return the favour,” you mused, palming his length and opening your mouth to take him in, but yoongi stopped you, and his hands pulled you up.

“i can see through your tactics,” there was a smug smile on his lips, “i know you are trying to rest up while sucking my dick, but there’s no time for that. i am nothing if not a man of his word so let me fuck your cute cunt into the mattress.”

his skilful hands wrestled you around. the moment you gained some stability in the new position, he yanked your hips closer towards his figure, lining up the tip of his length with your entrance.

“wait, wait, let me at least catch my brea —” your words turned into a low growl as his length dipped inside after catching onto some of your residual arousal.

there you go putting your all-time chartbuster songs on repeat. the sacrilegious litany of curses, the airy moans, the whimpers. yoongi really had you dicked down deep into the mattress, singing songs for him.

the stutter in his thrusts as he neared his high was unmistakable. his hips drawled out his plunges, forcing the intrusive length even deeper inside you with full force and boy, did you feel that. your head hit the pillow lying against the headboard with each of his drawn-out thrusts, his hands on your hips remained the only constraint keeping you firmly planted around his length.

“i’ll come again if you keep doing that,” your voice got muffled as your face rested on the pillow, your body impatiently waiting for his next thrust.

you felt yoongi lowering himself, his lips sneaking up near your left ear, his breath making even the micro-hair strands on the back of your ear stand up, “and who stopped you, little one?” 

his hips snapped forward, sending your bundle of nerves into overdrive, extricating the loudest moan from you that the four walls have been witness to this night insofar.

“nggh —” you came for the second time, your hot cavern sucking in his length, the constricting walls taking the shape of his length.

yoongi stood straight on his knees, watching your juices coat his length as they leaked out. he pulled his length out a bit, watching the string of cum stuck to his tip only to drive it in you again. a cry left your lips, your walls closing in against his length, pushing him closer to his high. one last thrust inside your deep walls and yoongi came undone on your lower back.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

after wiping away his cum from your back, yoongi tossed the soiled tissue into the trash can before lying down on the bed with a long exhale. you gathered your hair to the side and carefully laid your head down on yoongi’s chest, testing the water before getting comfortable. he did not object, so you snuggled closer, watching his chest rise up with each breath. coming down from your high, the air felt colder, and you wanted yoongi to wrap his arm around you, but he did not. instead, he brought out a cigarette from the packet. holding the butt between his lips, his hands traced for the lighter till he realized it was placed on the nightstand.

yoongi raised his upper body, while in the process, removing your head from his chest as he reached over the bed to grab the black lighter. it had a red dragon engraved on the side with some phrases written in japanese. he flicked the lighter on and lit up his cigarette, but his phone rang before he could lay back down. after receiving the call, he started talking, releasing deep clouds of smoke into the air, his head resting on the headboard.

“i am sorry for calling so late, sir. i left messages on your cell, but there was no reply, and i need to talk about tomorrow’s case.”

“yeah, i was busy. which judge is presiding over the matter?” yoongi asked, putting the phone on speaker and keeping it on his chest as he reached over the bed again to dust off the residual ash from the cigarette into the ashtray.

“judge chwe,” a male voice replied from the other side.

you quietly watched the whole ordeal, and it did not fail to catch your eye that he was not paying you any attention all over again. as if the pair of you did not just have sex. you let your finger draw lazy figures on his chest, not minding the conversation.

“fuck, really? he rejects all anti-bail pleas.”

“i know.”

“we have to bring up other points then. the interim period for arrest is over. guy’s been in jail for too long.”

“i have been working on the draft.”

“good, mail it to me,” yoongi replied and went to take another drag from the cigarette when his eyes went wide as you clicked on the red button on the screen, “what the fuck? why did you cut the call?”

you were taken aback by the change in his voice; it was laced with annoyance and pure anger than his previous nonchalant one, “i-i am sorry. you, um, wanna do it again?” you asked, trying to dissipate the air, your hand slowly travelling down towards his length but he stopped you.

“later. i have work,” yoongi replied monotonously, pushing the blanket over as he got out of bed. he put on a pair of boxers before redialling the number, making his way out of the bedroom. 

prior to the bedroom door closing behind, he peeked behind once, “get some sleep. i’ll be late.” and he was gone, just like that. while you lay in the bed like a discarded one-night stand. he might as well have left you a tip and called you a prostitute.

tears pricked at your lower eyelids. unbeknownst, you were tearing up. you hid your face in the pillow in an attempt to stop yourself from crying. he did promise you a loveless marriage — expecting anything more is naivety on your part. accepting that this is the closest he will come to showing you any intimate decency, you quietly went to sleep.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

the following day, your eyes fluttered open to your husband’s face mere inches from yours. his lips were slightly parted, his upper body was bare, and you guessed just as much for his lower body while you were stark naked, as well, under the modesty of the covers.

you let out a breathe you did not quite realize you were holding, your chest slowly heaving down. you let your fingers crawl up to the section of hair that had fallen forwards and was now shadowing his left eye. sweeping it away, you combed it gently with your fingers, setting it back with the rest of his hair.

now that you think about it, this is probably the first time you are seeing your husband from this close up. he looked different; he did not look so cold, so distant. he looked — normal. a living, breathing human just like everybody else. his eyes did not seem so cruel. instead, they looked peaceful, the brow line on his forehead; relaxed. he was sleeping on his stomach, his head resting sideways on the pillow — facing you.

you must have been deep in sleep when he came back to bed because you did not feel him crawling into bed beside you. just like every morning, you did not expect to find him beside you, much less sleeping beside you.

watching him, in the rawest version of himself, weirdly felt wrong. as if it was a crime to see through the layers he puts up. it felt illegal, yet you kept staring at him, breathing in his features.

there was a certain air of intimacy masking the situation. you both laid naked under the covers after a night of fervour love-making. he certainly knew how to please a woman, yet you have never caught him staring at anyone. his eyes feel dull at times, too burdened by his workload, constantly under stress. yet when he looked at you last night, his eyes were anything but dull. there was a spark that came and went with the beginning and conclusion of the physical act.

you wanted the moment to last forever, but soon yoongi’s eyes opened. his hands felt around the bed till it located his phone, which he brought in front of his face. his eyes squinted as the brightness through the screen increased to let the face recognition run. his phone unlocked, and yoongi swiftly went through the notifications before keeping his phone down. at his wordless series of actions, you had reclused into yourself, your hands clutching the edge of the covers close to your chest. holding on to the last piece of modesty, although you were not so shy the previous night. it must have been something in the wine, you are not this outright, or maybe it was something in your quiet husband that prompted you to take the drastic step – to bare your body to him.

“don’t do that. makes me feel like a pervert,” yoongi grumbled in his morning voice, causing you to establish eye contact with him.

“stop thinking like that.”

“i’m trying, but the situation keeps feeling wrong. you’re too young.”

your expressions turned into a scowl. what the hell is that supposed to mean now?

“as far as i remember, you claimed to know everything about me. you are the one that proposed the marriage contract. did it not strike you then?”

yoongi sighed, “you remember the circumstances leading to that very well.”

“so what? what am i supposed to do now? i sit around this house all day, alone, with nothing to do.”

yoongi sat up, stretching his rested muscles, “we will have this talk later on. i need to leave for work now.”

“you always do,” you did not mean to blurt that out, yet they left your lips like thorns aimed at him. you sat up too.

yoongi chose not to reply and got out of bed. he sauntered to the attached washroom, smearing a blob of toothpaste on the bristles of the toothbrush before walking out. his one hand laid inside the pocket of his boxer shorts while the other guided the brush against his teeth.

the air was warm. it smelled like last night’s sex amidst yoongi’s cologne. it had a powerful domestic feeling attached to it, and you hated it. you hated it with your whole being because you know yoongi would snatch it away any moment when he deems fit. he has done it countless times before, and he would do it again. he is cold, distant, and that is the truth. 

annoyed, you moved towards the edge of the bed, “hand me my bra.”

“i literally saw you naked last night,” yoongi mentioned before leaning down and grabbing the piece of fabric lying unceremoniously on the floor before handing it to you.

“turn around,” you kept holding the covers near your chest till he indulged you and turned around. you wore the bralette and grabbed your shorts, adorning them right after.

yoongi went to spit out the foam in the washbasin. by the time he came back to the room after freshening up, you had left.

you did not mean to leave that way or fight with him first thing in the morning, but he never refutes your action, never stops you or even says anything to make you feel like he cares. the warmth his physical body offers falls short in front of the icy emotional show he puts up. he could have come after you, right? he could have talked to you further, maybe help dispel whatever hesitations you had, help you see him in a better light, but he did not. he did not even pay it another mind as he continued with his morning routine.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

that night, you slept in the guest room. after the morning tiff, you had no further interactions with yoongi. he was gone for the day, and you had retired to the guest room by the time you heard his car pulling up on the porch. you checked the clock when your sleep was interrupted by the vibrations of his car wheels on the pathway. it was almost midnight. you kept lying in the dark, listening to the car door opening and then closing shortly, indicating yoongi’s descend from the vehicle. there was the jingle of the keys, and the front door opened and closed after yoongi walked in. you could hear his soft footsteps till he entered his room. of course, how dare you expect that he would come to talk to you or even want to see you. disappointed by your own expectations, you went back to sleep.

meanwhile, yoongi frowned when he walked into his room because it was empty. it was cold like every other night when you do not sleep in his room. it was a long and tiring day. he could really do with some cuddling or just your warmth against him. he stepped out of his shoes, took off his blazer and directly went to bed.

sniffing around the pillow cover, he noted the lingering fruity smell. yoongi moved back and realized he was sleeping on your pillow. it smelled like you, your shampoo, your scent. juyun must have kept it on his side after fixing the bed like she does every morning after yoongi leaves for work. however, he could not complain as he fell asleep holding it close.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

yoongi woke up right in the middle of deep sleep. it felt like he was forced awake, his consciousness grabbing at that he was just in his room, lying in his bed. something felt like it was poking at his thigh. he touched his pocket, his phone was still inside, and given the awkward position, its metal was poking uncomfortably. yoongi woke up fully on remembering that he slept in his work clothes, no wonder he woke up halfway through the minimum hours of sleep he gets. changing into his pyjamas, he tried to fall back asleep but failed. after forty-five minutes of fruitless efforts, he gave up. the clock read five thirty-five when his stomach made a loud grumble, the hunger clawing against the walls of his stomach lining, making its existence known.

right. he went to sleep without dinner. throwing on a warm pullover, yoongi made his way downstairs to the kitchen. he found eggs in the fridge and noticed some packets of ramyeon lying around the kitchen counter. juyun does not buy readymade food, so it must have been your doing. initially, yoongi thought of making some toast and eggs. still, the red colour of the shin ramyeon packet just pulled him in closer till he found himself cutting it open, pouring the contents of the flavour sachets into a pot of boiling water.

it has probably been a decade since he last cooked ramyeon, and the last time must have been when he was doing his bachelors and used to live in a dorm with his roommate yoo kihyun. he should probably call kihyun sometime. it has been so long.

it hardly took ten minutes to cook ramyeon with the vegetables, meat and eggs just like he likes it. turning the stove off, yoongi opened one of the cabinets to grab a bowl when, due to the slip of hand, another piece of utensil fell on the floor.

you know that feeling when you drop a utensil in the middle of the night, and it just would not stop bouncing against the floor, making the loudest possible noise all along? yeah, that is precisely what happened to yoongi at the moment.

grabbing the utensil, he put it back from where it fell, but it was too late. you were already awake and had made your way downstairs to the kitchen, thinking someone had broken in.

“yoongi?” you rubbed your sleepy eyes, your hair messy and awry.

“yeah, it’s just me. sorry about that. i was hungry,” yoongi watched you.

“what’s the time? are you in a hurry for work?” you asked, still confused. why is he cooking? where is juyun? why hasn’t she prepared breakfast yet?

“it’s five-fifty on a sunday morning, little one. no work,” he informed you, pouring the content of the pot into two bowls.

“oh, okay. enjoy,” you yawned and meant to walk away.

“do you want some ramyeon? i accidentally made too much,” yoongi’s voice caused you to stop in your tracks as he placed the pair of bowls on the countertop.

you gazed at his face first. is this your husband, min yoongi, or did some burglar break-in? but why would a burglar cook ramyeon in the kitchen?

you hesitantly walked to the countertop, pulling out a barstool and sitting atop it, “it surely smells enticing. looks like you cooked all the four packets.”

“yeah, i did not realize it until pouring in the last packet. back in college, i was in charge of cooking ramyeon, and kihyun and i had quite the appetite.”

“kihyun?” you questioned, grabbing a pair of the chopsticks.

“my dorm roommate,” yoongi replied, taking the first bite.

“oh. must be nice,” you took a bite too, almost stopping to admire the unique taste.

“yeah, we used to sneak out all the time,” he chuckled softly, his eyes sparkly from reminiscing some scene as you both continued eating.

“what else did you guys used to do?”

“all sorts of things, really. sneaking out, causing trouble, blasting fireworks right outside the dean’s office, playing as each other’s wingman in clubs, sneaking in alcohol and cigarettes.”

“he is a lawyer, too?”

“no, he was a business major. he won the young entrepreneur award, too.”

“are you guys not friends anymore?”

“mm, we are. just not much in contact. i went to the UK for my masters, he stayed back to build his empire. when i came back, i was too focussed on establishing a career. never really took a break.”

“do you want to?”

“what?” yoongi slurped on his noodles.

“do you want to take a break?” you reiterated before grabbing a spoon to drink the soup.

“i don’t know. i might. do you want me to take a break?”

you almost choked at his words, “wh-why does it matter what i want?”

“itmatterstome,” yoongi spoke too swiftly, but you caught each word. 

you kept staring at him, dumbfounded. if this is not a burglar, are you perhaps dreaming by any chance?

“c’mere,” yoongi motioned for you to come closer, and your body moved towards him just as his words beckoned as if moving along the sound of a pied piper.

you walked to him, stopping in between his legs which closed around you. his hands snaked around your waist before he raised a hand to smoothen down your hair, “you look so sleepy.”

“right? i must be dreaming!” you replied when you felt his lips on yours. you kissed back, thinking it was definitely a dream.

soon enough, there was a gasp causing you both to pull back at the sudden noise.

juyun trained her eyes at her feet, quick to apologise for the interruption, “i am sorry, sir. i was not expecting you here.” it was six-thirty. like routine clockwork every morning, juyun came to the main compound to start the breakfast preparations like she has over the past decade. she seriously did not expect to see her master and mistress kissing in the kitchen, of all places.

a shy blush appeared on the apple of your cheeks, your fingers resting against his pullover clutched onto the fabric. it was real, he talked to you, and he kissed you.

“it’s alright. we’ll let you get to work,” yoongi said before getting off the barstool, his hand grabbing yours as he walked out with you on his tow. you let him lead the way; you would let him lead you to hell itself if it meant he would talk to you, treat you like a human being, treat you like a husband treats his wife.

february, 2021:

it surprises you — how much yoongi and you have progressed as a couple. he is still cold, prioritises work over you, and hardly gives you any time, but it is genuine and honest when he does. at night when he comes to bed to you, he is yours. if you try slyly, you sometimes can extricate details about his life. his exterior is still just as hard, but when he enters the bed, that piece of furniture becomes a pure and sacred shrine where only you and he exist. it sounds more romantic than it actually is in reality. there is no pillow talk with him, no stolen glances, no soft gazes, just the raw version of him. he is not a man of a lot of words, even less so during sex, but he maintains the eye contact, and you know his eyes are earnest, at the very least.

more often than not, you have to try in various ways to know more about him because he can always call your bluff. well, that is what he does for a living, and he is good at it. he finds it fascinating that you always put in so much effort to get to know him better when he is nothing but a stranger that forced you to marry him on a whim. he had promised you a loveless marriage, and he has kept his end of the bargain, but he admires your rigour for not giving up on him.

unbeknownst to him, you only take an interest in his life because there is not much going on for you. you are not in love with the man you gladly sleep with, far from it. you still harbour the same feelings of disdain that had arisen during the whole testimony business. he is willingly protecting his friends who are openly indulging in criminal activities. how do you love a person like that? sure you allow yourself to submit in the physicality of it, allow him to touch your body, every crook and crevice, allow him to show you stars when he has you cumming just with his tongue, but that is it. you treat the bed as the shrine as well. whatever happens between you two stays there.

you had duly noted that yoongi only talked about his life before his parents passed away. he never touches upon the topic, nor does anything ever slip from his mouth. he carefully chooses his words and thinks things through before letting you in. so far, he has told you about his high school, college and then his UK experience. he talks about his family but only in traces. you do not mind it, as long as he talks to you and not just treats you like a wallflower.

life has been slow-moving, quiet, calm and primarily low-key, but then came the news that you had been dreading so far. one fine morning, your father passed away. his passing was peaceful at the very least, and all you did was stand quietly throughout the entirety of the funeral. the girls had offered to provide you with some moral support, but you refused them all. you only allowed rei to be there and the pastor who performed the last rites. you kept staring at the distance while the pastor narrated some verses about repentance and salvation — you could not care less.

“hey, do you have anything for the eulogy?” rei touched your arm to catch your attention.

you flinched at the touch and turned to her, “no,” shaking your head, you turned back to stare into the distance, albeit pointlessly.

the ceremony concluded within an hour, and yoongi was the one who took care of all technical details, and the rest was handled by rei.

“can you take her home? i need to take care of some final details,” yoongi asked rei, who nodded at once and escorted you to the vehicle, which took you both home.

“come here. you need to eat,” rei dragged your autopilot self inside the house by the elbow.

“um, ma’am, can eonnie have something to eat?” rei asked juyun.

“of course, miss,” juyun was quick to bring out food to the dining table.

prompted by rei, you sat down but refused to eat anything.

“don’t bother. thanks for helping, i will be fine.”

“you want me to leave you alone?” rei turned to you after pouring out a glass of water.

“if you don’t mind, yes.”

“i’ll get out of your hair. just take care of yourself. alright?”

you nodded as rei gathered her keys and wallet before leaving you alone.

once you heard the front door closing behind her, you left the dining hall and headed straight for the guest room, although, these days, you stay in yoongi’s bedroom.

about an hour later, the door to the guest room opened, “what are you doing here, little one?” yoongi’s voice was the softest that you have ever heard.

“thank you for taking care of everything,” you spoke up without missing a beat.

“you look guilty, more than upset.”

“i am,” you affirmed.

“why? you couldn’t have saved your father, you know that, right?”

“it’s not about that. it’s about the lies i told him. every day, i went to meet him. everyday i read him books and sang lies to him when he asked me how i could afford the treatment, the expensive medicine, the transplant, the CCU room. i never told him about you — us. not a word. i used to take off my ring before entering his room so that he would not ask about it. i only ever told him that i took care of everything and thought it would be enough, but it never was enough. it used to eat me alive. i only used to sit and read through pages of books but never talked to him about life. he used to try his best to engage me in conversation — telling me more stories about my dead mother than he ever had even when i used to ask him as a kid. he wanted me to talk to him, to open up to him and maybe tell him what was bothering me b-because he could tell that something was bothering me, but i said nothing. i only read through fucking pages of books that don’t matter to the dead anyway! i could have put his conscience at ease by telling him the truth, by letting him know that i would not be so lost without him like he feared till his last breath. yet, — i” you lost your voice as your words turned to hiccups, “i only lied to him,” you managed to finish your sentence, a high-pitched cry tearing through the confines of your throat.

yoongi noiselessly approached you, and although you tried your best to resist his touch and wriggle away from his grip, he kept holding you till the fight in you died down, and you let him hold you. your limbs never reciprocated, but you let him to hold you, let him rub your back, let him brush your awry strands back into place, let him wipe your tears every once in a while, till the flow of salty water through your eyelids blurred your vision too much. none of that really mattered. you just cried and cried.

you must have passed out because when your eyes opened next, they fell on the wall in front of you — an arm hanging by your lower waist, you could feel the warmth of your husband’s body from behind you. he was holding you close, his heartbeat reverberating against your back.

“awake?” yoongi asked when he felt your body squirming lightly.

“mhm.”

“are you feeling better?”

“yeah, thanks for that,” you mumbled, “how do you deal with death? i know i lost my mother years ago, but i don’t think i have ever actively dealt with the loss, just the consequences.”

“i’m probably the last person who is equipped to give advice in this area, little one. i am rude, i hold grudges, and i tend to remember the negative traits in people. i don’t think i have ever processed the passing away of my own parents.”

your breathing slowed down at the mention as you did not expect yoongi to be talking about his parents, “how did you deal with it?”

“i don’t. i am always annoyed and frustrated. annoyed because i don’t have them in my life anymore. frustrated because i couldn’t protect them, as a good son would’ve.”

you turned to now lie on your back, your face turned towards him, “you couldn’t have known, yoongi,” a raised hand touched the side of his cheek.

“you couldn’t have saved your father either, but you still feel guilty.”

“because of other reasons!”

yoongi grabbed your hand and removed it from his face, “i got my parents killed y/n. yes, i should’ve known. i should’ve protected them.”

“do you really believe that?”

“why won’t i? my actions directly led to their untimely demise. nothing else by my actions.”

“you put a bad man in jail! your parents certainly would have been proud of that.”

yoongi chuckled at that, “yeah, right. little one, no matter how many bad guys you send behind bars, there are always two others to fill up that place. the world is unfair like that, and these days, ‘doing the right thing’ means nothing to me.”

“is that why you are protecting mr seokjin?”

“not really. it is my job as a defence lawyer to protect my clients. i am just doing my job.”

“b-but it’s wrong….”

“being a defence lawyer is all about exploring the grey area of the statutes. we all do wrong things in life.”

you went to say something further but stopped and turned your back to him, continuing the previous snuggled-up predicament, “can you hold me?”

“i will always hold you, little one,” yoongi’s lips attached to the back of your earlobe to leave a chaste kiss before wrapping his arms around you in a warm hug.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

your stance regarding morality and justice has always contrasted with yoongi’s, and at times, he does not appreciate it, but he has come to admire you for not being swayed by way of the world. you still have the same stance you did when he first met you. the situations between you two have drastically changed – he threw you in the middle of a whirlwind, forced you to be his bride on a whim just because he wanted to check how the legal stance of spousal privilege upholds in a real-life courtroom situation, and yet here you are in bed with him.

the feelings he harbours towards you are not love, he is sure of it, but he likes you. he has come to adore your antics and at times even finds you endearing, but he will never admit it publicly, lest his body shall go up in flames.

initially, he regretted marrying you because he forgot that marriage entails more than signing a bunch of legal documents, and it is a whole human being in your house, in your face at all times. still, he has grown accustomed to your non-imposing presence, where you have grown to become a part of his day-to-day routine. and min yoongi is nothing if not a man of habit.

he was not always such a closed-off individual, but his parents' death hit him too hard, and he continued carrying those painful wounds around by never addressing his mental health. he drowned himself in work, quit his position as the public prosecutor, and had only one thing on his mind ‘revenge’. had it not been for kim seokjin, yoongi would have ruined himself completely instead, here he is. a reputed lawyer, founder of the top law firm in the city while also achieving the revenge he wanted. yoongi has also grown quite fond of the group of boys, they are not related to his personal life or his previous life when his parents were still alive, and that gives him a safe place to just be – he does not feel the need to open up to anyone about his feelings, he just wants to be. breathe, have a couple of whiskies, and just be.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

all this talk of losing family makes yoongi want a family. he knows that what you and he have does constitute a family, albeit a dysfunctional one, but it would not hurt to have a family of his own? you would probably agree too now that you have lost your own family. he is not trying to prey on you at your weakest moment but instead, have a rational discussion with his wife about it. life is full of surprises, and we never know what the future holds.

well, while yoongi was just casually sitting in his chambers, thinking of how to bring up the topic of having kids with you, what the actual future held was definitely not the surprise that he would have ever expected.

one minute it was all fine, like any other ordinary day, and then the next thing he knows, his secretary rushes in to ask him to turn up the television. startled at the unusual request, he turned the tv on after sensing the urgency in her voice. the default news channel took up the place on the blank screen of the monitor, and yoongi finally saw it.

‘BREAKING NEWS: fourteen-year-old son of reputed lawyer harvey specter was shot by gangmen in broad daylight.’

the reporter went on to broadcast the murder scene, which was painted in blood, and there was even some scripting on the wall where the dead boy lay in his pool of blood, written in his own blood. before the camera could zoom in, however, yoongi pulled the plug on the electronic device, causing the commotion and other noises in his chamber to die down within seconds.

yoongi refuses to watch the scene, just like he had refused to visit the accident site of his parents. his secretary left shortly to give him space as yoongi sat down on his chair, with a visibly dishevelled look marring over his features.

around fifteen minutes later, yoongi finally picked himself up again. mind you, he had no sentiment attached to the specter boy, hell he does not even know the boy’s name, but just because he does not care about someone does not automatically imply that he wishes death upon them. plus, he has worked with harvey for the past five years. they make quite the intimidating duo, and harvey has always been there for him whenever he needed it. now that it is on yoongi’s shoulder, he does not know how to be there for him. how do you console someone who had his teenage child murdered in broad daylight? hell, he does not even know about harvey’s whereabouts or what is exactly happening in the real world outside. he reached inside for his packet of cigarettes to bring one out, but his eyes took note of the way his hands shook. his gaze bore holes on the back of his shaking hand. this is precisely like five years ago all over again. he is just sitting in his chamber, locked behind a stack of files when other people could really use his help, or at least really appreciate if he can just be there for them, but here he is, locked away in a high-security prison of his own thoughts.

he is not exactly sure why he is dialling your number, but your name is what his phone is displaying on the screen. it rang and rang and rang, and there was no answer from the other side. wait a second, are you alright? are you in danger?

worried, next he dialled the number of his housekeeper who kindly informed him that you had gone out. well then, why are you not taking his calls? this is the fifth time he is calling, and if you do not pick up now, he will be filing a missing person report at once. luckily, you picked up just in time. yoongi meant to ask you where you are and why exactly it took you so long to pick up his calls, but the babbling of children in the background caused his words to get caught up in his throat and slowly die down.

“what is that?”

“what? yoongi, you mean ‘who’, and it’s just hyuk and moon playing.”

“where are you?”

“remember i told you that dany had called us over.”

“and she is?”

“mr jung’s wife.”

“right.”

“are you okay? you sound off.”

“mm,” yoongi hummed before cutting the call. he knows you are safe and having fun, so he should probably tell you the news later. he is not one to rain on someone’s parade.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

unable to stay cooped up in his chamber, yoongi came back home, but you were not home yet. although he had missed breakfast when he left for work, he refused to eat a morsel overlooking juyun’s persuasive talks about health and all that yada yada yada.

it is weird because yoongi is feeling exactly like he felt when he received the news of his parent’s accident. he feels helpless. he feels like a coward for being so weak and incapable of doing anything worthwhile to not put anyone’s life in danger. the specter boy did not die because of his direct actions, but it is related to their work. in this world, you always piss someone off, and there is always someone waiting to watch you suffer.

this is probably related to the yakuza clients of the firm. around seven months ago, there was a gang war between the yakuza and some local korean gangs, and specter and yoongi had been able to get their clients free of charges. while the leader of the korean gang got convicted on two counts of murder. on the day the judgement was pronounced, the other members of the korean gang had openly threatened specter. it was even aired on television as the brawl took place right outside the courtroom in front of a fleet of paparazzi.

yoongi and probably the rest of the world already know who is responsible for the death of the specter boy but what about it now? putting them behind bars would not bring the innocent child back. it would not make it hurt any less to the child’s parents. a life is lost, and nothing can get it back. justice is hardly a substitute for this deep a hurt.

a life for a life does not work either as have been tried and tested by yoongi – he got his parents’ murderer killed, but it did not bring him even one iota of ease. he still felt guilty, even more so because he dirtied his hands to get someone killed but most importantly, it did not bring back his parents. his childhood home was still empty, his parents' room covered in dust and spider webs.

yoongi was onto his fourth glass of whiskey when you walked in the bedroom after coming back from your short get together.

“hey,” you smiled, but it turned upside down on noticing the thick smog of smoke enveloping the room. it reeked of alcohol and burnt out cigarettes.

yoongi turned his gaze to you and nodded before turning his head back to the fireplace in front of the couch set. the flames from the logs burned in the blacks of his irises, “had fun?”

“yeah, it was nice. the kids are so sweet,” you replied while emptying your bag and came across a baby sock of hyuk. it must have accidentally fallen in your bag, “oh my god. look at this, isn’t it adorable!!” you grinned, taking the cute little sock to yoongi’s figure.

“what is it?” yoongi’s gaze did not falter from watching the show put up by the blazing flames.

“hyuk’s sock!! it’s so small, so adorable, just like his cute little baby feet,” you advanced the sock towards yoongi.

yoongi kept his glass away before taking the piece of fabric in his hands. it smelt like baby powder, baby formula, and everything baby. it was baby yellow in colour and extremely small like you had been gushing about. your husband let a sigh, his fingers feeling the fabric before he threw it in the fireplace.

“wha-what the fuck!” you yelled before pulling out the burning sock by grabbing it at the edge with your nails. you can be blindly impulsive at times.

“why the fuck would you do that?!” you yelled again, grabbing some ice cubes from the ice bucket to cool down your semi-burned finger.

yoongi finally turned his gaze away from the flames and looked you dead in the eyes, “we will never have kids.”

“huh?”

“don’t huh me. you were getting there with all the gushing and baby handling, so get this drilled through your thick skull – you and i will never have kids.”

“what is the meaning of all this? are you drunk?”

“certainly not enough,” he refilled his glass again, emptying more than half the canister, “next time you go out, let me know in advance and always have the driver accompany you.”

“yoongi, what is happening? why are you talking like this?”

“leave me alone,” he gritted his teeth.

you tried to approach him, but he dismissed you with a show of hand, “just leave. and i should never hear baby talk around this house ever again.”

confused, humiliated, and feeling somewhat afraid by his erratic behaviour, you walked away wordlessly.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

a week passed by without a word from yoongi. he refused to look you in the eye or lay in the same bed as you. although you felt like the one intruding, he never asked you to leave the room and instead slept in the guest room himself. you did not see much of him either. he would return from work in the wee hours of the night and then leave early in the morning. when he was home, he would keep himself locked in his study. typically, you would at least be able to hear his voice while he is talking to some junior or client through the phone, but in the past week, you did not even hear a sigh leaving his lips. the house had gone into a permanent state of silence, filled only by your soft sighs, mutterings and short conversations between juyun and yourself. visitors have never known the min house to be home, so there is not another life around other than yours, yoongi’s, juyun’s and the driver’s.

bored out of your mind, you finally decided to go out for some fresh air. you have never been much of a homebody. owing to having part-time jobs since fifteen, you are pretty much accustomed to going out and spending your day outdoors. it feels nice, the sun on your face, and its rays always rejuvenate your energy. staying indoors is a far difficult task for you than you thought it would be. and to top it off, yoongi is not talking to you.

you were changing to some beige shorts paired with a cute top when the doorbell went off. juyun usually answers the door, so you were not bothered by the bell and went on to inserting the belt strap through the hoops when the bell went off again. odd, juyun never slacks off. she must be using the facilities or is extremely busy dealing with something else. fastening the belt, you walked downstairs and opened the door just as the bell went off for the third time.

“yes?”

“is mr min home?” a bald guy stood on the other side of the door, dressed in a white tank and a black leather jacket. you could tell he had a tattooed arm, and there were smaller tattoos on his face as well. he had a rough exterior but also had a classy aura around him. he looked like a man who held a lot of power and was in a respectable position. certainly not someone to mess with.

“no, he is at court.”

the man nodded and turned his back to leave but turned again with a fake smile, “can i bother you for a glass of water?”

you debated internally about letting a dangerous-looking man in, but he knew yoongi and looked like a wealthy client, so there was probably not much to worry about.

wrong.

reluctantly nodding, you let space for the man to enter, who sauntered in and sat down on the couch without a care in the world. you walked to the kitchen but still did not notice juyun anywhere around. sighing, you brought out a tumbler from one of the cabinets and poured water in it.

upon walking out with the glass of water, you saw the man now sitting with his phone in his hand, “here.”

“thank you, miss,” the man smiled before taking the glass of water and finishing the contents of it in one gulp, “i talked to mr min. he said he was on his way home.”

“oh? alright then, please make yourself comfortable,” you mumbled before leaving the living hall space to escape to the bedroom – not wanting to be in the presence of the man anymore.

yoongi was in his car, headed from the court to his office, when his phone dinged with a new mail. he did not want to check it but saw that it was from the yakuza boss. upon opening it, yoongi’s eyes went wide to the very brim when he noticed what he was staring at. the mail had a video attached to it – the camera lens was pointed downwards, but yoongi can clearly make out your bare legs walking into the living room from the direction of the kitchen and handing something to the boss, who thanked you for it in return. what the fuck is that guy doing at his place? why the fuck did you let him in?

yoongi did not waste a minute before directing his driver to take him home at once.

“is it urgent, sir? there is some traffic jam on the 46th,” the driver asked.

“just take a u-turn and take the flyover.”

“well, you are the lawman, sir,” the driver nodded before taking a sharp u-turn on the one-way and taking the flyover, which took yoongi home within seven minutes.

he walked out of the car in haste while it was still slowing down on the porch and directly headed towards the door before smashing the doorbell.

you answered the door again to see your husband boiling in anger. if only looks could kill. yoongi walked past you and addressed the yakuza boss.

“my driver will take you to my office. i will meet you there.”

“fine thought we could just talk here like old times,” the man shrugged before standing up.

“at the moment, that won’t be possible,” yoongi gritted out.

the man smirked a little before leaving the two of you alone.

“what were you fucking thinking? why did you let that asshole in!” yoongi’s yell boomed inside the empty confines of the house, the sound echoing off the walls.

“who is he?”

“he runs the biggest mafia organization in incheon. that’s who he is. where is juyun?”

“i don’t know. she did not answer the door, so i did. he told me that he had talked to you, and you had asked him to wait at here.”

“well, he fucking lied!”

“why are you angry at me? what should i have done instead? refuse him? i could clearly see his gun sticking out from under his jacket!”

yoongi groaned in frustration this time because you were right. these people do not precisely have a morality meter and could have easily hurt you if you had not extended the hospitality, “you are such a fucking liability. five years i have been a defence lawyer with zero issues, and the moment you walked into my life, you have been nothing but a liability.”

“stop calling me that! i am a human,” you rebutted, equally angry.

“shut the fuck up,” he turned around, looking for juyun and yelled for her. by the second time, she finally came out in a soiled apron filled with dust.

“yes, mr min? i was cleaning in the outhouse.”

“why did you leave her alone?” yoongi spoke in the same loud, angered tone.

“i-i am sorry, but what happened?”

“next time you leave her alone, i will fucking fire your incompetent ass.”

you flinched at his tone. he was being unreasonably mean and talking very rudely to the old lady, “please, don’t scold her for my mistakes.”

“shut up, y/n. i don’t want to hear a word from you. i have heard enough all these months, and i have done my best to accommodate you in this new life, but i am done now. i am done fixing every havoc you wreck in my life,” yoongi turned to you after dismissing juyun, who scurried to her feet and left you both alone immediately.

“what are you on about? i have never intruded in your work life or any life for the matter. i stay in this house like a piece of furniture and just keep to myself.”

“well, that’s too bad because from now on, you ain’t stepping a foot outside without juyun, the driver or me accompanying you.”

“but that way, i won’t have my freedom at all!”

“little one, probably the most oppressive lie ever uttered was the song of freedom. for nearly every living thing, choice breeds shame and uncertainty and regret. there’s a fork in every road, yet the wrong path is always taken.”

“i had warned you beforehand that you would regret marrying me, and yet here we are. you cannot just imprison me like this yoongi!”

“do you really want to test me? are you sure?” yoongi growled and advanced towards you.

his chest almost met yours when you suddenly felt a burning sensation and took a step back with a yelp, “ouch, what the hell?”

yoongi stared at your hand. it had a burn mark from his lit up cigarette in his hand, which must have accidentally brushed and touched the back of your hand.

“see, you are nothing but a liability.”

“and you are a fucking asshole,” you whimpered and rushed to the guest room to lock yourself in.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

that was the last you saw of yoongi for an entire month and a half. for six whole weeks, your husband ignored you, strayed away from you and downright avoided you – a part of it came from his guilt for unintentionally hurting you.

at night, when he comes back after a rough day at work, he unceremoniously barges in the guest room where you have chosen to reside these days, and he just lays down beside you – holding you snuggly in his arms and falls asleep in his work clothes, reeking of cigarettes and bourbon. you lay there perfectly still, aware of his every movement, woken by his crass door-opening. you allow him to hold you to sleep, but in exchange, you sacrifice your own sleep as the overwhelming smell blinds your senses. however, you have come to enjoy these times as it feels nice to be held – he could have gone to any woman he wants – he is rich, handsome, successful. clearly, in an unhappy relationship with his wife and yet, at the end of the day, he comes to the same wife — not to talk to her but to hold her close.

you are often left confused between feeling patronized or relaxed under his touch, but there are not many things left to enjoy, so you enjoy this embrace he gives you. his soft snores are rhythmic. midway through the night, he often pulls up his leg on top of yours and crushes you under his weight – your face in the pillow. you just sigh, close your eyes and rest.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

the quiet and silence were not for naught. it was the calm before the storm, and boy did the cloud burst on your head with the loudest bang.

towards the start of the seventh week, you received your father’s ashes. he wanted his ashes to be distributed on han river – his favourite picnic spot for a still middle schooler you. he would make those cute little bento boxes with the adorable designs, and the pair of you would enjoy them by the shore.

you decided to not waste time and distribute the ashes on the very day. however, the flaw in your plan was what your husband had ruled for you. you are not allowed to step outside the threshold without juyun or the driver accompanying you, but this is something personal. you wanted to be alone for this one and hence decided to sneak out.

isn’t it amazing when your plans just bust open and come to bite you in the ass? well, it did not take a long time for your sneaky plans to come bite you in the ass. juyun found out that you were missing from the house after the courier with your father’s ashes arrived. like a loyal servant, she immediately informed her master, who was very displeased to learn of the unsavoury news. what are you trying to do? trying to get killed? yoongi is desperately trying to keep you safe, keep you from getting killed just like everyone he cares about, but you cannot clap with one hand – he needs you to cooperate with him as well. living in luxury, catered to by servants and enjoying the best life in exchange for freedom – what is the problem with that? he earns in millions and has put every luxury at your feet, yet you choose to defy him when he is just trying to keep you safe. how difficult is that to understand? yoongi has no choice left but to take the matter into his hands – like always.

one phone call to your favourite detective jeongguk, and yoongi had your location by tracking your cell. if you are going to defy his express concerns and sneak out, then at least make it difficult for him to find you.

naïve.

han river is a mere twenty-minute drive from his office, and lo and behold, twenty minutes passed, and his driver parked the car outside hangang park. yoongi sauntered in, and within a few minutes, he was able to locate you among the sea of visitors as you stood by the shore barefoot. the hem of your dress flowed with the soft breeze from the river. you were staring out in the distance, the urn held securely in your hand as the peaceful ebb and flow of the waves crashed against your feet, immersing your ankles.

he admired the view but snapped himself out of it – this is not the time to be basking in your beauty. you have willingly put your life in danger, and for what? to distribute your dead father’s ashes? anyone could have done that! you could have just asked the driver. getting angrier and angrier with the intruding thoughts, yoongi marched right over to where you stood and grabbed you by the elbow.

it caught you off-guard, and you almost dropped the urn but regained your stability and turned to fight back the assaulter only to face your husband. oh fuck, here comes the angry stare and the unkind words. well, that is all he usually does, so you are not too scared of the outcome now that you have been caught. and let me tell you, you have never been more wrong in your life.

“i told you not to go out alone!” yoongi’s grip around your elbow only tightened as he came closer to your figure.

“yoongi, this is between my father and i. couldn’t just bring someone else for such an intimate see-off. i have to do this alone. please try to understand my plight.”

“oh yeah? your dead father wanted his ashes distributed? fine! i’ll be a good son-in-law and do it,” yoongi proceeded to snatch the urn from your hands – uncapping it and emptied the contents on the sand away from the shoreline – near the area where the river wave was not strong enough to drown it out with it, “there. it’s done. let’s go.”

you watched him frozen. your limbs fell cold as the blood circulation slowed down, much like your breathing had. you are not sure if you felt anger, remorse, regret, disdain, shock, and many other emotions and honestly struggled on how to react to this blasphemy. you tried to get away from his grip, but he dragged you towards the exit. you saw people watching you being carried away. they just assumed that it was none of their business and did not even bother butting in to help you or even to make sure if you were okay – if you were being taken away against your will but guess the world just revolves around the rich men. as long as it is a rich man, in a fine suit doing it, they can get away with just about anything and the world will not bat an eyelash.

tears rolled down your face as yoongi shoved you in the backseat of the car, slamming the door shut behind you. soon after, he got in as well through the other door.

“did you think i was joking when i told you, explicitly, to not leave the house without company? do you have any fucking idea how dangerous it is outside? they killed specter’s son, and they will kill you if that pleases them. stop flaunting yourself around like you are no one. you are mrs min yoongi – the wife of a defence lawyer. do you have any fucking idea how many goddamn enemies i have?! everything is a joke to your pretty little head, isn’t it?” he jerked you once to get a response out of you, but you kept crying, refusing to even look at him.

enraged, yoongi grabbed your chin in a tight grip and turned your gaze towards him, “cat got your tongue?”

after all your attempts to get away from him failed, you gave up and looked him right in the eyes, “how could you do that? i thought you knew better. haven’t you lost your own parents?”

yoongi’s grip loosened at the mention of his parents. well, isn’t he doing all of this cause of what happened to them? scoffing, he let go your chin and looked away when your gaze did not falter – something in him could not meet your eyes. what was he becoming? he would like to call himself paranoid, but that does not even cut half of it, not when people are really out there to hurt them.

upon reaching home, you ran straight towards the guest room, completely ignoring juyun, who asked in a worried tone why you were crying.

you locked yourself in and cried to your heart’s content. all you wanted, the only thing you wanted was to keep your father’s last wish, and it got taken from you like your will means nothing to anyone. you just want to mean something to someone, the last person to whom you meant anything is dead and just got his ashes emptied on the sand, on fucking sand where the water does not even reach over to drown it away.

it must have been hours till yoongi came to you. although you take the unnecessary care to lock the room, he walks right in with his keys.

“stop crying,” his voice had mellowed out and held a tinge of remorse. you kept crying, not paying any mind till you felt the delve of the bed behind you and tried to get away from him when he sat down, but he pulled you right back and had you sit down on his lap.

“let go of me!” you yelled in anger, your shriek booming in the confines of the walls, but yoongi did not loosen his grip. he held you down till you stopped resisting his hold, till you stopped resisting his presence in the same room as you, till you stopped resisting him.

“i am sorry little one. i am really so-”

you cut him right off. he had no right to speak after the stunt he just pulled, “i lied to my father when he was dying, yoongi. i lied to him till his last breath, i lied to him about every single happening in my life, and now you just took away that last chance i had to do anything right by him! one thing, one last single fucking thing i had, and you took it away because what? because you are paranoid!?!?! why do you even care if i drop dead someday? i sure do hope i do, so i don’t have to be imprisoned by you anymore!” you blurted it all in one breath, even though you knew he would get angry – it just did not matter anymore. you have nothing to lose.

“don’t say that, please just don’t say that. fight with me all you want but don’t say that. i am doing everything in my ability to keep you safe, to keep you from their reach so they cannot hurt you. i have grown fond of you, y/n, i think i might be in love with you, but above all that, i just wish to protect you. i don’t expect you to love me back, but please, don’t wish for that. i can-can’t lose one more person from my life.”

and that is probably the only time you have ever heard your husband’s voice falter than his usual nonchalant and casual one.

it would have been different in other circumstances. at the moment, it did not matter what he said. it was all the same to you – sweet nothings.

“good for you ‘cause i will never love you back, min yoongi.”

yoongi’s hold on you loosened at those words, which really drove a wedge through his heart – he accepts it. he has hurt you beyond words, but he can live with it. he can live with just watching you living and breathing in the safety of his house and his arms. he has survived all these years without the love of a partner, so what are another few decades?

he kept holding you for the rest of the night, securely in his lap, and you just sat there – exhausted from crying, from fighting him and his irrational ideologies – he could do whatever he wanted to you for all you cared, but he just held you.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

“eonnie, i am very sick. can you please get me some aspirin? i have a nasty migraine attack,” rei spoke through the phone when you picked her call one fine summer afternoon in may.

“can’t jimin get it for you?” you asked as you did not want to break the rules again. since the whole incident with your father’s ashes, you have not stepped foot outside this house – out of pure hatred and pettiness more than anger. life has somewhat returned to how it used to be, some nights would end in (consensual) sex, but all nights would definitely end in snuggles and cuddles. you never reciprocated his actions and let him do whatever he wanted – he was bound to be bored by a rag-doll.

“he is gone to the states for some dance competition,” rei replied with a blocked nasally tone.

“can you try and order online, maybe?” you really wished to avoid going out, but you felt guilty for refusing as well.

“i tried, but it would take more than two hours because the app says that none of the deliverymen are in my area. eonnie, please, jimin-ssi has been gone for a week. it would be nice if i get to see someone for a change.”

you let a deep sigh. well, it would be nice if you also could see someone other than your husband and maid for a change, “alright. i will come over but only to drop off the meds, i won’t stay for long.”

“works for me! you’re the best!!” rei gushed before cutting the call.

a small smile appeared on your face after what felt like weeks on hearing rei’s voice and her childish shenanigans. after a quick shower, you got dressed and headed downstairs to find juyun. since obviously you cannot go alone, might as well take your alleged bodyguard with you. upon entering the kitchen, however, all you found was a note stuck to the refrigerator.

“i will be gone to get the monthly groceries. i will be back around 6pm.”

the clock on the kitchen wall showed that it was only around four. you were left with no option but to go out alone as the driver was gone with yoongi. sighing, you set out alone after locking the doors. it would take a total of forty-five minutes to rei’s house and back home, five minutes to buy the aspirin from some pharmacy on the way and maybe a ten minutes talk with rei, and still, you would be back before juyun. finalising your plan, you took a cab and headed to rei’s place.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

around fifteen minutes past five, you left rei’s place even though she begged you to stay a while longer, wanting to hang out more with you, and although it broke your heart to refuse her so sternly, you had to. it took you twenty minutes to get back home, and you walked in unsuspecting till you noticed juyun and yoongi standing in the living room staring as you walked in.

“h-hi?” you exhaled sharply.

yoongi came back earlier because he wanted to take you out for a night out, whereas juyun had finished shopping and came back by five. she usually finishes all her work before the set-out time, so this was everyday routine work for her.

it is just the absolute worst day of your life though, why did yoongi think of taking you out on this particular day? why is juyun so prompt and diligent? can fate cut you any slack at all?

“where were you gone?” yoongi crossed his arms over his chest.

“to um, rei’s. she’s sick, and her husband is away. she needed me.”

“right. wonder if she will still need you when you are lying by the street in a pool of your blood with a bullet wound in your forehead.”

you rolled your eyes at the clearly exaggerated paranoid thought, “you are overexaggerating.”

“i-? i am the one who is overexaggerating? wow. the fucking nerve you have! and here i was, leaving back work to take you out thinking you would be so bored at home.”

“just because you thought to do one single decent act for me does not mean you own my freedom, as well. i can go anywhere i wish to. it's a free world.”

“right. it’s a free world, and that applies for the criminals too.”

“you can’t always shield me, yoongi. this is madness!”

“spare me your moral pep talks. and that rei? i am going to fire that bitch.”

“hey, don’t talk about her like that!” you raised your voice at the sudden provocation, “i am all she has, and lately, the vice versa also stands very much true.”

juyun watched from the background as the two of you fought back and forth. she clearly would not want to be a party to her employer’s personal matters, but yoongi had asked her to stay back, so she is standing her ground.

yoongi chuckled at your words, “oh yeah? she is your only family? because of what, this stupid picture that she gave you?” he pointed at the picture frame mounted over the living room fireplace before walking over to it and grabbing it.

“it might be just a frame, but a rich snob like you will never understand the sentimental value of it,” you were in no mood to bite down today, which was clearly evident from your passive-aggressive words.

“really? fine, then what’s the point of keeping it in MY house when i am an unemotional asshole,” he broke upon the glass of the frame by smashing it against the wooden frame of the fireplace and brought out the picture. with his free hand, he retrieved the lighter from his trouser pocket.

“n-no no-no, don’t do that, please,” compared to your earlier harsh tone, your voice now come out as a feeble plea.

“oh, little one, you have no idea what all i can do and more,” yoongi grinned before flicking the lighter open. he placed one of the pointy edges of the picture on the flame, and the material went up in flames faster than your reaction speed.

by the time you walked to him and snatched the burning picture from him, the fire had engulfed most of it, and your fingers let go of the charred end that was left of it, only to let the fire turn the entirety of it to ashes.

“wh-why! why are you doing this! i was good! i listened to you and kept my word.”

“clearly, you were not good enough,” yoongi turned to juyun, “get that gift i had prepared for your mistress.”

juyun nodded slowly, unsure what her employer was planning and went inside to retrieve a gift-wrapped box. yoongi got a hold of it and brought out a white wedding dress from the box.

“where did you get that?” you tried to take the dress from his hand upon recognizing that it was your mother’s treasured wedding dress.

“juyun found it one day while she was cleaning. i saw that it had some tears, so i had it restored to exactly how it was. i wanted to surprise you, but hey, it’s not like you ever want my love, right?”

and the next thing you know, your mother’s beautiful dress was up in flames. dumped on the floor, the flame engulfed inch by inch of the luscious fabric. you tried to get a hold of it in an unsuccessful yet desperate plea to save it from the fire, but you were only hurting yourself. juyun held you back while you kept thrashing against her. voiceless cries and whimpers left your throat as tears blurred your vision.

“dear, please get a hold of yourself. you know master min loves you and only wants the best of you,” juyun wiped your tears after you calmed down by her side and had slid down to a kneeling position on the floor.

you pushed her hands away, “how can you say that! how dare you even think that he loves me and cares for me after seeing what he did with your own two eyes! what kind of love is this?”

“shh,” the kind maid finished wiping your tears and tucked your awry hair behind, “go to him.”

“for what? so he can hurt me more?” your eyes fixated on the third-degree burns on your palms and fingers. they weren’t many, but they were proof of just what he did.

“just let me take care of this mess and go to him, alright?” juyun walked you to yoongi’s bedroom before ushering you in and closing the door gently behind you. a minor quarrel is usual between husband and wife, and talking can solve a lot of things, at least that is what juyun is hoping for cause what she witnessed first-hand has really shaken her, too.

you kept standing near the doorstep, your head hung low. just when you had thought that you had nothing left to lose, you lost even more things – things you never feared you would lose, and the way you lost them really opened gates to another level of emotional trauma.

“strip,” came yoongi’s voice after what felt like an eternity of just standing there with tears dripping down on the carpet. he finished the cigarette he was smoking and smashed it in the ashtray kept on the nightstand.

you looked up at him in disbelief – you were also surprised that you could feel any emotion at all after the preceding traumatizing turn of events, “what?”

“i asked you to strip, which you heard correctly the very first time,” yoongi was still angry from the act of defiance and wanted to punish you more but could not think of how. he did ask you to strip but, in his mind, it was all blank – he would never put a hand on your dignity without consent. still, a part of him revelled in that terrorised look in your eyes.

“no,” you shook your head and took a step back when yoongi stood up at your defiant answer. your back came in contact with the closed-door as yoongi stood right in front of you.

“you are not making this any easier,” he brought a finger to your figure, tracing your arms.

you shivered from the touch out of disgust and complied wordlessly. you don’t think you have anything left to lose, but you cannot take a chance, not anymore.

content by your actions, yoongi walked back to resume his seat on the bed and watched with hawk eyes as you stripped off your clothes.

his hard exterior tore apart as each piece of clothing came off. he cannot do this. not to you or any human being. you stood in your lingerie, hugging yourself in shame and fear.

yoongi felt bile rising up to his throat at sight – what is he doing?

“c’mere,” he patted his lap with a frown. he is supposed to protect you. why is he hurting you? this is not supposed to happen.

reluctantly, you walked to him before sitting on his lap but not letting your guard down.

he put his work blazer over your shoulders before snaking his arms around your waist, but they never strayed towards your intimate region. his hold was secure around your waist, and his head came to rest against your back, “little one, don’t defy me like this. believe me when i say i know better and only want the best for you. please, forgive me for hurting you. it is never my intention. i am so so so sorry.”

and there we go, we have come a complete never-ending circle finished off by his sweet nothings.

July, 2021:

valentina walked in with a cup of coffee to your room, “here, you go, miss. what you reading there?”

you looked up from your book, “shakespeare’s king lear,” you smiled, taking the cup of coffee, “thank you.”

“is it a love story about some king?” she smiled enthusiastically.

“not really. it’s a tragedy about a king who relinquishes his power and land to his two daughters and then becomes destitute.”

valentina’s smile vanished, “oh… you read a lot of tragedies.”

“mhm, now that you mentioned it, i do that. guess we look comfort from our real-life in storybooks,” you shrugged, taking a sip of the coffee.

“but you live in such a huge mansion with such a handsome husband, you don’t have to lift a finger, and every work around the house gets done routinel-” she stopped upon noticing the quirked eyebrow on your forehead as you watched her talk, she might be crossing some lines, “i am sorry, i just don’t see the tragedy.”

“it’s poetic,” you sighed on noting that she was still confused, “don’t think much about it. i am just a pessimistic person.”

“oh no, ma’am, i meant no disrespect!”

you nodded and went back to your book, prompting valentina to take her leave, as well.

valentina is the newest addition to the min house staff, and she was hired personally by yoongi because he claimed that you needed a friend, someone your age in whom you could confide in and feel comfortable around. ironic how he pretends that he actually cares or gives a shit. you have not stepped foot outside by yourself since the day yoongi burned your mother’s dress along with the picture that rei had gifted you. you go out with juyun when and absolutely required. other times, you refuse any chance to go out and choose to stay in. you do not want to set off that arsonist maniac anymore. you have had enough of his rough handling your life like a piece of paper that he gets to crumple and straighten out whenever he feels like it.

valentina is one chirpy bird. she is always so happy even if you ask her to do some extra work. she does everything in her capacity to get you talking or even going out with her as instructed by your husband, but you know better. you know that behind those honey-laced words and batting eyelashes lay a pair of greedy eyes that are eyeing up your position as the mistress of this house.

the way she subtly flirts with yoongi is so evident to you. although you have yet to find it in you to be jealous, what annoys you is how oblivious yoongi is to her shenanigans. juyun too, who is usually very strict about the household chores and always scolds valentina if she misses a spot, gladly turns a blind eye to her shameless flirting. makes you wonder how maybe yoongi’s staff do not really approve of you as his wife because you are not affectionate towards him. well, how can you possibly be? you can never fall for a person like that. it’s beyond your wildest imaginations – he can speak his sweet nothings about love and safety all he wants, but you are not going to fall for that.

for all you care, yoongi can go ahead and cheat on you. the contract you had signed on the day of marriage did not have it written anywhere that you have to love him. it just had been a means to buy your testimony, and it has fulfilled that purpose well. if he cheats on you, maybe you can bring that up as a ground for divorce. although taking the help of law against a lawyer is a losing situation, but, might as well try it out.

that is precisely how you found yourself outside of yoongi’s study late at night. you had fallen asleep but woke up to the sound of something falling on the kitchen floor. you came downstairs to check the ruckus and saw valentina making a cup of black coffee. only yoongi drinks black coffee in the household, but what was she doing here? both juyun and valentina are supposed to leave the household premises by nightfall, and yet at half-past twelve, you see the conniving little bitch in your kitchen brewing coffee for your asshole husband. maybe they are sneaking out behind your back, after all.

fine, all you have to do is catch them in the act.

you watched from the shadows as valentina finished the coffee and walked towards yoongi’s study, where he was cooped up working on a high-profile case. there was a particular sway in valentina’s hips tonight that did not escape your hawk eyes. rolling your eyes, you followed her and watched her walk in after she knocked. yoongi must have been too engrossed in his files to just blindly give permission so late at night, or he might have thought it was you. wait, why are you making excuses for him already? you are here to catch him red-handed.

you walked to the door and pushed it slightly to let a crack at the door through which you could see them.

“yes, little on-” yoongi turned up from his files and looked visibly confused on noticing that it’s not you but his new maid. what was her name, again? yeah, valentina. right, “what are you doing here? you are not supposed to be in the main house after nightfall.”

“yes, i know you work nights, so i thought of making you some coffee since miss goes to sleep,” valentina smiled, advancing the coffee towards him.

“did she ask you to be here?”

“miss? no-no! she does not even know i am here. i don’t think she cares enough.”

“excuse me? what did you just say?” it did not take more than seconds for yoongi’s expressions to turn into a scowl.

‘you are one good actor, min yoongi. as if you care if someone speaks bad behind my back,’ you thought, watching the scene unfold.

valentina walked to his side, placing her hand carefully on his arm, “you work so hard, but miss never looks after you. i can look after you, mr min, i will take good care of you!”

yoongi slapped her hand away, “what are you on about!”

“she wants to fuck you, asshole,” frustrated by his obliviousness, you exclaimed out too loudly. oh fuck.

“y/n?” yoongi called.

“ugh,” groaning, you walked in, “can’t you see it? she is flirting with you. she wants to be the next mrs. min,” you crossed your arms.

“next? but i already have a mrs min,” yoongi’s scowl turned to a smirk, he has dearly missed this feisty side of yours.

“divorce me and live happily with her. like she said, she will take good care of you. right, miss valentina?” you gritted, turning your head towards valentina.

the new maid, who was a couple of years older than you, cowered in fear under your judgmental gaze, “miss, i am sorry, please.”

“god, you look so fucking hot right now,” yoongi smacked his lips.

your eyes went wide at the vile words, is he seriously flirting with the maid right in front of you! “are you for real right no-” you turned to him, ready to tear him a new one, but your words died in your throat when you noticed that his gaze was only fixated on you. he was calling you hot, “-oh.”

you started playing with your fingers again, as has been your habit whenever you get nervous or shy. the blush on your cheeks was unmistakable, and yoongi could clearly feel the heat they radiated.

he grabbed your hand, pulling you towards him, “is little one blushing for me?”

“n-no!” you huffed as yoongi placed you right in front of him, between his legs. you both stood behind the oak table whereas valentina was by the door, looking for a chance to leave the mess she had caused.

yoongi let a soft chuckle watching you getting flustered. he guided your hips to sit upon the edge of the table, “you,” he turned to valentina, who had just opened the door to walk out, “close that door and don’t you dare leave.”

and it was at that moment, valentina realized that she had fucked up royally.

yoongi turned his undivided attention back to you, “my feisty little wife, were you jealous?”

you made a disgusted face at that, “not even by a bit. why should i be jealous?”

“is that so? so you would be totally fine if i cheated on you?” yoongi pulled up your t-shirt, and you wordlessly raised your arms to facilitate the motion.

“i dare you to try and cheat me,” you grabbed his collar, pulling him close to you.

yoongi grinned, “thought you wanted to divorce me.”

“i will find other grounds, but i refuse to be disrespected like that,” cupping his face, you kissed him, probably the first time in months. although the two of you have sex on and off, you deny him any kisses from you. it was supposed to be some punishment, but to hell with all that. your husband did not miss a beat to kiss you right back.

valentina, on the other hand, watched with wide eyes as the scene unfolded in front of her.

yoongi’s hands are always very skilful when it comes to taking your clothes off, his hands always know how to unhook your bra, and he rarely has to worry about panties because you never wear them to bed, and tonight, as well you did not. he yanked the shorts off you.

given the positioning of the table, valentina could not see you naked. only your back was to her.

yoongi leaned down to his knees and situated his head between your thighs, the intimate smell from your sex greeting his senses. his thumb massaged the outer walls slowly while his index finger aided to push your walls wide open. the hot craven calling to yoongi like the sound of a siren. he licked his lips once before delving in and doing what he does best – having you by the toes with his tongue. you gasped at the sensation of his tongue between your lush walls. your hand grabbed onto one of your breasts, squeezing it in an attempt to muffle down your cries. you refuse to give him the satisfaction — that his tongue always sends you on the edge from the very start. for instance, he has barely started, yet you are already wet, your arousal coating yoongi’s tongue like a forbidden elixir. you equipped your free hand to keep you stable on the table as it gripped the edge tightly, your nails scratching the expensive wood polish.

“you never learn,” yoongi tsk’ed when he felt you trying to close your legs together.

“guess, i never do,” you mumbled, raising one of your legs up to now rest over his shoulder blade. who is this new confident y/n?

“that’s more like it,” the devil’s advocate grinned his gummy smile before resuming his rightful position between your walls. his tongue reaching up at an angle while his fingers pumped inside you smoothly, aided by your generous lubrication. his fingers bent upwards and thrummed against the upper wall with the force that had your toes curling up.

“fuck-” you moaned loud enough for your voice to reverberate in the room, your hand now grabbing onto his hair for support.

yoongi alternated between sucking on your hollow walls to pumping his fingers at a supersonic speed. the closer he got to your orgasm, the more lubrication your sex created. he was ready to taste your cum, he was eager and excited even, but you pulled his head away.

“i want your dick,” you leaned down to kiss him.

“you will get it. have some patience, little one,” he said in between the kiss. his tongue, dutifully, transferring your taste to your very tongue.

“now! i can’t wait,” your fingers brought out his semi-hard dick from underneath his underwear and started pumping it – from the base to the tip with the same fervour that yoongi had shown you.

“whoa, someone is eager to get dicked down,” he chuckled, letting you work around his length.

“maybe because you don’t dick me down enough,” you shrugged and collected a ball of spit before dropping it on the bulbous tip.

yoongi inhaled sharply at the cold sensation of the saliva, “then maybe you should,” he took hold of his length and gave it a few pumps before entering you, earning a delicious moan from you, “speak up more.”

“never,” your fingers grabbed onto the hair on the back of his head, pulling it backwards to bring his eyes to yours.

“feisty,” he drove his length in, past the initial discomfort, and you felt your body going through physical hiccups at the slow and drawn out thrusts. he was enjoying the view, how enticing you looked, how out of wits miss holmes looked at the feeling of his dick inside her.

halfway through getting railed, you looked behind to check if valentina was watching. the moment you made eye contact with her, you smirked at her and sent a playful wink which had her staring at her feet out of sheer embarrassment and shame.

“thought i would make you come once with my tongue before dicking you down,” yoongi spit at the junction where his dick disappeared into you before collecting it on his thumb to rub circles on your nub.

“mm, we don’t always get what we want. are you afraid you can’t make me cum with your dick?”

the look that he gave you next was one that made you genuinely regret the words that you just spewed as he sped up his thrusts, accompanied with his skilled finger stimulating your sex to no ends. you grew closer to your orgasm, but yoongi had other plans – he pulled away and brought you to your feet to turn you over. his hand on your back traced downwards along your spine and pushed you down on the table – all the while, his dick poking at your inner thigh like a warning. you lowered your upper body on the table and felt yoongi’s hand holding your head down amidst the case files he was working on. your eyes fell on a familiar name, ‘kim seokjin’ and on the second line, you could clearly make out the words ‘innocent of murder charges’. you tried to raise your head up to read more, but yoongi’s hand kept you pinned down while his length impaled you again.

“mm,” you exhaled as the tip felt like it tore through your walls in this position – with your pelvis strictly bent over the edge of the table in a painful position.

you stood corrected as yoongi brought you to your orgasm, all the detective thoughts in your pretty little head getting washed over by the wave of pleasure. he kept holding you, thrusting into you at the same speed to ride out your high and chase his own. you could tell he was closer when his grip on your body loosened up. a few more thrusts in, and yoongi emptied his balls on the small of your back.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

“can you imagine i almost came inside? you always rile me up so well,” yoongi mused after cleaning your back.

“mhm, the no-kids clause. how can i forget,” you offered him a close-lipped smile, putting on his work shirt and buttoning it.

yoongi put on his underwear and wore his trousers. his hand advanced towards you to tuck your hair behind, but you dodged it and walked to valentina, holding the door open.

“i never want to see you again. leave before i drag you out by your hair.”

you did not need to repeat yourself as she made a run for the door to never come back to the min mansion.

after she made her exit, you walked out too, closing the door behind you, but before the doors could close completely, you heard yoongi again.

“by the way, i fired rei today.”

of course, yoongi had other reasons to fire her, which he tactfully did not let you on in.

it only felt like another thing that you did not know you could lose but just did to your paranoid husband.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

a/n: our hon’ble judge marly is none other than my bb @teakwoods-ghost​ !!

feedback is deeply appreciated.✨

masterlist | bangtan masterlist | rules | ask box

- jaimie.

© 𝟫𝟫𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓇𝓈, 𝟐𝟎𝟤𝟣. 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃.

[closhelby]

Black Hand.

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: usual Peaky shit

Prompt: none bar the scene itself.

Word Count: 1,796.

Author note: wrote this three fucking times I’m at my wits end! Unsure to make this into a few parts.

——

Y/N woke again, at the crack of dawn, rolling over checking her watch, 5.36AM. This was the usual for her, since leaving Birmingham she could barely sleep past 6am, since the breakdown of her marriage.

It was Christmas morning, the first she was spending with only one of her two children. Charlie, y/n’s eldest son was spending his Christmas with his father this year, since splitting y/n and Tommy regularly had sex behind her boyfriends back, and then she fell pregnant, with her now two year old Harry. However, Tommy wasn’t aware of this child being his, and as far as everyone else was aware it was Roberts child.

Y/n rolled out of bed, and began to wash and get ready for the day ahead. She sat at her dressing table, thinking, as she did regularly, how it would’ve been if they didn’t spit. There was still very clearly tension there, sexual especially. Due to this, y/n cut all interaction with Tommy, whenever they needed to talk over Charlie, she would get nanny’s and maids to travel with him.

Just finishing her makeup, finishing her all off with a spritz of perfume and putting on her watch, which now shown it as 6.56am. Y/n went downstairs, starting to make herself a cup of tea when she was startled with the letterbox chattering as the postman put today’s Mail. She moved over to the door, bending over to pick up the letters, opening the first one to reveal a white card with a black hand on the front.

“Fuck!” Y/n’s heart started beating at a rapid rate, she knew that this meant kill or be killed. She needed to get her and Harry out of there ASAP. They weren’t far behind and they already knew where she lived. She ran back upstairs, grabbing overnight bags and stuffing them with her most valuable items and clothes she could possibly wear before doing the same for Harry. All while trying to be as quiet as she could because she didn’t want to wake Rob.

Y/n ran from the house to the car sat on the front drive, she didn’t even bother to ask a driver. She was going alone. Leaving alone. Without an explanation. Despite the severity of the situation, this was brewing for a long time. The current relationship was a cover up. Y/n accepted the fact that the only man she will ever love will remain Thomas Shelby, and she knew it would be the same for him. And I think that’s why they both didn’t file for a divorce.

Quickly packing the car with things she may need for herself and Harry, she ran back upstairs to collect the sleeping boy from his bed and placed him into the front seat of the car. He continued to sleep throughout the car ride, back to Small Heath. Y/n knew Tommy like the back of her hand, she knew that everyone that is associated with the Shelby name would have been dealt a black hand, and knew the only place they could possibly be safe would be in the polluted streets of Birmingham.

Turning the car onto Watery Lane, as all those childhood memory’s flooded back. From when she ran about with John as a kid, to when her and Ada would get into trouble together in her early teens, all the way to building a large profitable business with her husband, all came flooding to her. A rush of emotion, clearly visible on her face as the car came to a halt outside the once betting den. Y/n rarely had any emotion showing, only Tommy would see that in the many nights they spent alone, but that was the same for both of them. They acted tough to everyone else but vulnerable for each other. The bond they had, partners in crime, was admired, despite them both being gangsters.

Tommy was very clearly heartbroken from the downfall in their relationship, he also believed that y/n was the only woman for him in the long run. But the only way he felt that he could get over that was her under someone else. He turned to Lizzie on the regular, and as y/n still kept in contact with Ada, she knew about this. Y/n was very alike Tommy in this sense, if she needed to find something out, it would always come her way, weather she needed to look for it or not. Ultimately they shared a child together, technically two, but there was still so much love there between the both of them.

“Fucking hell,” y/n muttered before kicking in the door that stood before her. Her two year old son clutching to her chest, still fast asleep as she walked towards the family she still loved dearly. Pol loved her, loved her like her own, but they both had a similar trait, they never backed down. And sometimes like Tommy, they would argue for days on end.

Y/n stood before the table, where all but Tommy sat before her. She quickly scanned the room, noticing a blonde woman, she knew was Linda, but hadn’t met was looking at her with a very foul face on her. Ada on the other hand was smiling, excited to see her best friend after years of being away. Tommy standing to her left, eyes wide wondering why his wife was stood before him, in small Heath, with a young child in her hand.

Pol broke the silence first, “What the fuck are you doing here? Tommy tell ya?”

“No however, since you know, I find out absolutely anything I need to,” y/n spoke directing a foul look to Lizzie who was stood over in the corner, “I have also been dealt a black hand.”

There was a mutter of fuck sakes throughout the room, as they realised this was a bit more real than before. Tommy then started to talk about the issue at hand.

“Why are you starting when Johns not here?”

The room fell cold, distant and all eyes were trying to avoid hers. But Tommy wasn’t, he didn’t avoid her gaze as y/n turned to look at him. He very rarely lied to her, he simply couldn’t get away with it if anything, y/n found out everything.

“Fucking ‘ell Tommy, tell me!”

“John was killed this morning, on his front door step infront of his wife.”

Tears started to form in the once emotionless woman, the room felt as though it was caving in on them. Her legs felt heavy, like she could collapse to the ground at any moment, but her head felt light. She quickly muttered to Tommy, handing the baby over, stumbling back to process what she had just been told. John was before all this, they were best friends since they were about 4. They went all throughout school together, and because y/n dad had passed before he could walk her down the isle, John did.

“Those fuckin’ bastards! Christmas Day! Im going to fucking kill them myself,” y/n screamed in frustration.

“She won’t cope well with this,” Ada spoke quietly enough that the table could hear but y/n couldn’t. Ada approached her, giving her a soft cuddle of comfort. Y/n didn’t cry, she didn’t cry infront of anyone. But she was very close today.

She composed herself, breathing out before standing up, “why did I have to marry into this shit?”

“Why haven’t you divorced him?”

Ada knew the answer, she always had.

They both moved back over to the table, Ada returning to her seat while y/n stood by Tommy’s side. He still stood there holding his own child, without the knowledge of it. He continued to speak about the issues they were currently facing with Luca Changretta, but y/n wasn’t even listening to what he was saying, simply zoning out to how weird her life was. She’s looking at the love of her life while they’re no longer together, holding their second son that he has no clue about.

“Y/n?”

Her head quickly shot up following the direction of the voice. Arthur.

“Hm?”

“Peace or truce?” Tommy spoke.

“Peace”

“Very well. Six peace, two truce.” He quickly handed Harry back over to y/n before heading back upstairs. The group got up and left to do their own thing, while Ada sat at the table waiting for the catch up that was well needed between them both.

“Two seconds, I’m just gonna put Harry up to bed.” Ada nodded in response as y/n made her way upstairs to put Harry to bed. She opened the door to find Charlie sleeping in the small bed, leaning over to put Harry at the back of him, giving both of them a peck on the cheek before turning to see Tommy in the door way.

“Your new boyfriend is the dad? But your not married to him?”

“No I’m not married to him.”

“So you had a child out of wedlock?”

She sighed. She wasn’t going to lie to him anymore, there was enough damage and if she knew she would have to spend the next few months living with him, she needed to get it out there as soon as possible.

“No, I’m married.”

“yes, to me.”

Y/n walked over to him, pulling him into the room and closing the door behind him, aware of the fact this house was full. He took a seat on the small chair in the corner, while y/n stood slightly back from him.

“Remember that last fuck we had. Before I refused to see you.”

He nodded.

“I refused to see you because I was pregnant, and I knew it was yours.”

“Fuck sake y/n.” Tommy spoke, running his hands through his hair.

The room then went silent. The two of them not knowing what to say next, for the first time in years they were speechless.

Y/n decided to break it, “He knows. Rob knows he’s not his, he can see it, but it’s never been mentioned. Harry also knows who you are, I���ve shown him pictures of you that I have.”

Tommy stood up abruptly, making his way over to her. His hands wrapped round her waist as he pulled her closer to him. Y/n was looking, and clearly getting lost in his blue eyes. Tommy leaned in to her, their lips meeting softly,y/n began to kiss back. The feeling this was what they both had longed for. Both of them having sex with others that meant absolutely nothing to them. The bedroom door swings open to reveal Finn stood there, his mouth hung wide.

“A - Ada’s wondering where you are?”

Y/n smiled before pulling out the embrace, muttered a thanks then proceeded to go downstairs. She turns round as she’s on the third stair down, “don’t say a thing Finn,”

[spring-books]

a part of the fandom that i truly dont understand, is this faction that is vehemently opposed to jiang fengmian. in general the anti and stan camps of any character are strange and off-putting to me, but i do usually get where the root of that sort of thought lies. but in the strange case of jiang fengmian it really baffles me actually.

in the very very little that we know about this man, we find out that he is a good and fair sect leader with good strong morals and principles that he chooses to stand by. this is a man who finds and raises an orphan that honestly he could have left to the dogs and clearly no one would have batted an eyelid. he respects and allows his wife great power over his disciples and household, and seems to fairly often defer to her decisions unless it is to actively harm the child he took under his protection. he is perhaps not the doting father that fandom seems to want him to be, but at absolutely no point in the story, or in the society that was built within the pages of the book, was he in any way depicted as less affectionate or callous towards his children than any other father in the entire story. he fights to the bitter end alongside every person that died at lotus pier and seemed to have lived with honour and ruled with respect to have handled the running of such a large, prosperous sect.

so it really does confuse me deeply when i see so many fics and posts that talk about jiang fengmian with such bitter hatred as though he was their very own cold and distant father that was the root of all familial problems.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 19 - ao3 -

Time passed, as it had a tendency to do.

After Cangse Sanren left, Lan Qiren remained in seclusion for the next two months, reviewing texts on the Lan sect rules regarding reciprocation, filial respect, and loyalty, and occasionally playing some new pieces – he’d started composing music as well as simply learning it, and that was a finicky business. Not only did he need to worry about the musical composition itself, like any normal musician, but there was also interweaving the spiritual energies and figuring out the way the song could be used as a spell, which was a completely different and often completely contradictory set of rules.

Moreover, the most powerful song-spells, he knew, were the ones that incorporated and drew on emotion, and he’d always had difficulty with those. Like most of his clan, Lan Qiren cleaved towards the more intellectual melodies, difficult but cold and distant, yet if he wanted to be truly innovative, he would need to find melodies in his heart.

Not long before he went to the Nightless City he had been inspired in a dream with a half-snippet of sound, which he had been painstakingly building up into a song in fits and starts, but recently he had found that whenever he played it the only image that came to mind was that of pearls scattered amidst blood-red mud.

The song was good, though, although it felt unfinished and incomplete. After he emerged from seclusion, he played it for his music teacher, first without qi and then with, demonstrating the suffocating and asphyxiating feeling of it – a heavy stone sitting in the midst of his chest, all his misery and anxieties wrapped up into musical notes – and his music teacher had been thrilled.

“You were born to write tragedies, child,” he said, examining the score proudly. “This is not only good but innovative, a new style with unexpected effects. I look forward to seeing you refine this further, and to your future works.”

Lan Qiren saluted deeply.

Music was just about the only thing that was going right for him at the moment.

The other disciples had been lured back into gossip by his presence, consumed by curiosity, and the teachers had come down on it hard, breeding resentment; even his few friends had been made tired by the whole fuss and only wanted it to die down. The rumors went by swiftly and quickly, anything to do with the Wen sect or the Nightless City almost immediately spread around everywhere, reaching his ears almost immediately upon his exit from seclusion.

One in particular caused him alarm, suggesting that Madame Wen had been discarded or even killed immediately after successfully bearing a son to her husband, but Lan Yueheng had convinced Lan Ganhui, always good at making friends, to write to the Wen sect disciples he’d become friendly with in the Nightless City to find out the truth. In the end, it turned out that Wen Ruohan had merely grown more distant from her, instructing her to go into seclusion for the birth a little early, and had perhaps sarcastically sent her a few treatises on the subject of a wife’s duty to support her husband. In the end, Wen Ruohan was an ambitious and ruthless man who encouraged his sect to take him as his model - as he himself had remarked, Madame Wen’s viciousness in fact demonstrated how she was an excellent match for him.

Lan Qiren hated that he was relieved that Wen Ruohan had not taken out his rage at what had happened on his wife, who had instigated the incident. He hated even more his suspicions that Wen Ruohan might have refrained from doing so not out of morality but out of the thought that Lan Qiren himself might disapprove - he wasn’t sure if that thought made him happy or sad.

At any rate, he soon didn’t have time to worry about things like that.

Lan Qiren’s refusal to explain in any detail what had happened at the Nightless City that had sent him fleeing and retreating into seclusion was largely not accepted by his curious peers, especially when someone had jeeringly pointed out that he’d probably told Cangse Sanren the whole thing already, and he refused to go to his teachers to complain, as he had in his youth.

His brother hadn’t accepted it, either.

He’d given Lan Qiren ten days after exiting seclusion, clearly expecting him to come and report on what had happened. When Lan Qiren had not done so, he had finally grown impatient and found him, demanding to know what it was that he had done that had caused such a fuss.

Lan Qiren had knelt and declared that he was unfilial and disobedient, that he had broken the rules, and requested that his brother punish him for his wrongdoing.

His brother had stared at him for a long time before realizing that Lan Qiren was serious – that he would rather be punished for intentionally breaking the rules against honoring and obeying his elders than tell what he had done or what had happened. Even when he was dragged to the hanshI, his collar pulled tight in his brother’s fist until he was thrown down to kneel in front of their father the sect leader, Lan Qiren did not object; he knelt without complaint, and even pressed his forehead to the ground in deference, but he did not speak.

The punishment his father decided upon for him was harsh, but Lan Qiren accepted it willingly. By the rules of his sect, an accepted punishment expiated a breach of the rules; once punished, he could no longer be persecuted for what he had done to earn the punishment. It would be over and done with.

Of course, there were always ways around that.

Technically, Lan Qiren’s breach was not in refusing to tell what had happened, but in disrespecting his elders by so refusing. A few days after he recovered from his initial punishment, his brother, still furious at having been denied, asked him the same question, with the same result. Their father looked disapprovingly at his eldest son – deliberately exploiting loopholes was not good etiquette – but again imposed a punishment.

Lan Qiren gritted his teeth and endured.

Lan Qiren’s brother did not bother him a third time, but by then it was too late; their relationship continued to deteriorate. Lan Qiren sought to avoid his brother whenever possible, and his brother’s disappointment in him grew; although he did not explicitly complain or impose punishments directly, he made his views clear. Those disciples and teachers that most admired him were, as always, more than willing to follow his lead and fill in the gaps, and for one reason or another Lan Qiren spent more time in the discipline hall than ever before. 

Eventually, noticing the division, others in the sect sought to reconcile them – their teachers, in the most part – but Lan Qiren rebuffed them, having noticed that their requests to be more considerate and free-minded were always aimed at him and never to his brother.

After poor Lan Yueheng, who never cared about anything but his alchemy and his mathematics and, possibly, the particularly indulgent outer-sect female disciple that guarded the stockroom of the ingredients he used to make things explode and regularly looked the other way when he came to get an extra helping, got roped into trying to tell Lan Qiren to be more forgiving, citing rules about fighting within families leading to nothing with a miserable and bemused expression on his face, Lan Qiren went to the teacher in question and rather acidly pointed out the discrepancy.

“He’s your elder,” the teacher said.

“Do not disrespect the younger,” Lan Qiren retorted.

“He’s your family –”

“Am I not his?”

The teacher sighed. “It’s not the same, with him. You know how he is – how he’s always been.”

Lan Qiren knew. Still, he said, “If you can identify where my conduct does not live up to the rules, please do so, and I will consider if my conduct requires modification. At the moment, I do not.”

“Qiren…”

“Why must I always be the one to yield?” Lan Qiren demanded. “I didn’t answer one question, and I took the punishment for it, as was my right. He is the one who is insisting on making a fuss, not me – why come to me? I don’t want anything from him.”

“That’s the problem. You shouldn’t fight so – why this, why now? You’ve always yielded to him before.”

Lan Qiren said nothing.

“He’s still your elder brother, Qiren. Soon, he’ll be your sect leader.”

“Do not fear the strong; do not bully the weak,” Lan Qiren said. “Being sect leader makes him more responsible, not less.”

“Qiren –”

“I have been a good brother to him for nearly twenty years, honored teacher. Perhaps not the most promising, perhaps somewhat embarrassing, but devoted in my own way. I have not changed so much. I am still loyal, still filial; I still do all that I am asked…the only thing that changed is that I expect nothing from him.”

Not even his love.

Lan Qiren knew better, now. He’d seen what a brother could be, what it should be - he’d experienced, however fleetingly, having someone genuinely care for him, listen to him and indulge him and take joy in his company; no longer would he accept his brother’s barely concealed disdain as an adequate substitute.  

“Qiren –”

“Has my father said anything?”

His teacher fell silent.

Lan Qiren bowed his head, having expected nothing better. His father was growing more and more distant from the world, less and less interested in the minutiae of everyday life; he could still stir himself to care for his precious eldest son, the child of his heart, but his oft-forgotten and overlooked second?

Unless Lan Qiren’s brother had complained about him, his father was unlikely to remember that such a person as Lan Qiren even existed.

“Does father hate me?” he asked, emboldened by his misery. It was the question he had always wanted to ask and had never dared to, and his teacher flinched as if struck. “Is that why he never saw me?”

“No,” his teacher said. “No – it wasn’t…”

“Does he blame me for my mother’s death?”

“He blames himself,” his teacher said, and sounded tired unto death. “From the very first. He thought that if he had not been sect leader, they might not have lost their children; if he was not sect leader, it wouldn’t have mattered if they’d had only one child left. But he couldn’t blame the sect, so he blamed himself – you don’t know how bad it was, Qiren; you don’t know what we all went through back then. When your mother died, he even lost his mind for a time.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Lan Qiren demanded. His hands had clenched into fists at some point, his knuckles pale and white. “If he blames himself and not me, then why did he – he never –”

He barely even saw me, he wanted to say. I am his son, just like my brother, yet it’s as if I don’t exist.

Why couldn’t he love me, too?

“You were very young,” his teacher said, his voice suddenly very distant as if he were remembering something. Lan Qiren looked at him in surprise. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but...she had just died, and he had lost his mind; none of us had realized the extent to it, thinking it merely grief. You were young, you didn’t understand. You ran to him, seeking comfort, and he nearly – he couldn’t risk having such a sin on his conscience, Qiren. You should not blame him.”

“What are you saying? That he neglected me and held me at arms’ length to console himself for nearly murdering me?” Lan Qiren asked, and thought back to all the times he had found himself afraid of his father’s glacial voice, terrified for no reason. If his father had tried to kill him in a rage, as his teacher suggested, shouldn’t he have been more scared of the heat than of cold?

Unless - his brilliant and accomplished father, who always acted as the rules said he should but who had lost his heart along with his wife - unless he had knowingly - 

Perhaps it had been the sect that had ordered their separation, not his father. Perhaps his father, who had spent years going through the motions of leadership and caring only about the son that reminded him of his wife’s joy and not the one who reminded him only of her death - his father, who led their sect and raised his eldest son and in so doing taught them all to be like him, overly partial to favorites and overly harsh to those that did not meet expectations - perhaps he had not objected to that arrangements. Perhaps it had been the elders that had set the rule of meeting only once a month, rather than not at all.

Perhaps they had thought that it had been for Lan Qiren’s own good that they had done so.

Perhaps they thought it was for his own good that they encouraged him to yield now to his brother’s temper, to humble himself despite having done nothing wrong, and all for the sake of familial peace.

That was not the conduct mandated by his family’s rules. Not the ones he followed, anyway.

It’s his fault, Lan Qiren thought suddenly. He saw the path we were walking down, my brother and I, and he did nothing to stop it; he loved my brother too much and me too little, and ruined us both through his negligence and indifference. He made my brother think he deserved the world that he then had to hold up on his own, while he made me think I deserved nothing...he could have done better by us. He should have done better by us.

Finding that his teacher had run out of things to say, Lan Qiren saluted him once again.

“I will be filial and loyal, as the rules require,” he said simply. “I will respect and honor my father and brother. Do not doubt that.”

He said no more. Instead, he returned to his quarters, wondering if they thought he was happy about how things stood between him and his brother, who he still loved.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

He thought miserably to himself that he had been happier living in denial, pretending to himself that there was brotherly affection between them, that his brother’s coldness was only because Lan Qiren had spoiled things somehow by being inferior than his brother would have preferred. When he could love his brother whole-heartedly and think to himself that his brother secretly loved him back, when he suspected but did not know that that had only ever been a lie he had concocted for himself. He had been far happier back then than the way it was now, when even the paper-thin one-sided façade of love was gone.

The saddest part of it all was that Lan Qiren still loved his brother, his stupid Lan heart as inexorable as a mountain avalanche already set in motion. He just didn’t much like him.

He did like Wen Ruohan, the brother that liked him back and might even have loved him if a man such as him could recognize such a tender emotion, but that wasn’t really relevant.

Lan Qiren knew his duty, whether to his sect, to his brothers, or to morality. He knew what he had to do.

For his part, Wen Ruohan waited over a month and a half after Lan Qiren’s exit from seclusion before trying to reach out again by mail. No doubt conscious of his dignity and ego, the powerful sect leader that no one ever really denied, his letter talked around the subject in Wen Ruohan’s usual high-handed manner and evaded either apologies or explanations; from his tone, it was likely that he expected Lan Qiren to respond in anger and denial, or even not to respond at all. Instead, Lan Qiren wrote back obediently, reporting dully on his daily life. When pressed, he even wrote a short summary of his ongoing projects, copying the words precisely from the submissions he made for his teachers to avoid excessive enthusiasm.

Wen Ruohan’s letters developed a certain level of concern after that, which Lan Qiren ignored in favor of continuing to respond politely but unenthusiastically; a filial younger brother, just as he was to his own blood brother, and nothing more. At the next discussion conference, he saluted Wen Ruohan to the exact degree required by their relationship and called him xiongzhang as a respectful younger brother ought; Wen Ruohan had an expression on his face that suggested he had bitten into a sour lemon and stepped in dog shit at the same time, and his eyes followed Lan Qiren around for the remainder of the afternoon.

Lan Qiren was concerned for a while that Wen Ruohan would try to summon him once night fell, forcing the issue, but he was saved through an unexpected twist of fate – namely, that Jiang Fengmian had, like all the others, completely misinterpreted Lan Qiren’s relationship with Cangse Sanren. The Jiang sect heir marched up to him not long after the opening ceremonies had been completed and asked him, stiffly, to swear that he had no interest in the lady and would not communicate with her in the future. Lan Qiren, thinking primarily of their friendship, refused, and then Jiang Fengmian punched him right in the face.

Lan Qiren might be cold and standoffish as a rule, but he did have a temper, and that temper did not hold with being assaulted over things that weren’t even his fault – neither of them were even involved with Cangse Sanren! – and having been so thoroughly goaded he had no choice but to hit back.

In the end, Cangse Sanren had slapped Jiang Fengmian silly and Lan Qiren’s brother had sent him to kneel in disgrace all night, reminding him no fighting without permission and with his eyes silently promised additional punishment when they returned home.

Wen Ruohan didn’t disturb him that night, and Lan Qiren was able to persevere. Indeed, Wen Ruohan troubled him much less than he’d feared, opting in his hurt pride to instead turn to Lao Nie and stay remarkably close by his side – Lao Nie was the one who looked apologetically at Lan Qiren and tried to find time for him, whether to invite him on outings or to scold his brother for the apparent breakdown in domestic tranquility. For his part, Lan Qiren ignored Lao Nie and didn’t hold it against him even when he started showing up to the discussion meetings with distinctive red marks on his throat.

All right, he held it against him a little.

How Lao Nie had such bad taste, Lan Qiren had no idea. Surely he, unlike Lan Qiren, had known enough to realize that Wen Ruohan was an evil man…?

Probably he had; it was only that he didn’t much care. Lan Qiren had promised to try to stop lying to himself about people he liked, and that meant he couldn’t pretend that Lao Nie wasn’t a remarkably callous man at times, ruthless and careless with anything that was outside his sect – even his friends. There could be no doubt that he loved them, sincerely and honestly, and yet…

Lan Qiren was a little disappointed, but not much, knowing that he, too, was irrevocably bound to such a man as Wen Ruohan. He couldn’t blame Lao Nie for the same thing he himself had done. 

Mostly he was just pleased that his suspicion regarding their relationship had been confirmed, even if somehow – unbelievably – no one else seemed to notice it.

In fact, he thought it might mark the very first time in his life that he’d figured out something interpersonal before other people had. Normally he would report it to someone at his sect as soon as he noticed that they’d overlooked it, wanting to do his best for them, but the sensation was too novel and his relations with his sect a little too cold at the moment; he hugged the knowledge to his chest instead, enjoying the brief warm feeling of knowing something other people didn’t.

He intended to tell them, of course, once they returned back to the Cloud Recesses, only they had barely brushed the dust of their journey off their shoulders when they were summoned to the gathering hall for what everyone had now expected for years: Lan Qiren’s father, eyes blank, made the announcement that he was officially setting the date for which he would be retiring as sect leader and retreating from the world, going into seclusion to try to break through the boundaries of cultivation and reach the heavens in a single bound or else die in the attempt.

Lan Qiren’s brother, naturally, would inherit.

He was as fresh from the road as the rest of them, but with his hands behind his back, standing beside their father, he looked as fresh and untouched as a new-bloomed orchid, as beautiful as a polished piece of jade. His eyes reflected the dichotomy that Lan Qiren had learned governed his brother’s life: pride, for the power that he was going to inherit and the accomplishments that everyone agreed made him worthy of that inheritance, and envy, looking at his own father with jealousy, longing also to withdraw from the weight the world had placed on him and do what he could on his own, unburdened by others.

Lan Qiren’s brother, Lan Qiren had learned, saw everything in his life through the prism of himself – did others have something he wanted, did he have something that they didn’t, how did he compare, was he being compared…when he got something into his mind, he cared for nothing else but how to achieve it, no matter the cost, and most of the time he was successful, too. He was fundamentally self-sufficient, requiring nothing and no one but himself, and so was capable of performing miracles – if he was motivated to do so.

Lan Qiren was much less capable. He was lacking in cultivation, lacking in social skills, lacking even in a similar degree of independence, longing as he did for the company and acceptance of his peers even as his introversion demanded sufficient time to himself. There was no way in which he was superior to his brother; in every respect, he was inferior.

And yet, sometimes, he thought that his brother was jealous of him, too.

(Their father retreating into seclusion meant that they would both be losing him – but it was really only Lan Qiren’s brother that lost something. For Lan Qiren, what he mourned was only the absence of what had never been there, and he had finished mourning for that already.)

In the end, the main change occasioned by the impending change in leadership was that Lan Qiren’s brother grew too busy to pay much attention to Lan Qiren, much to his relief. Relations between them grew…not warmer, no, but less fraught, and although Lan Qiren knew he ought to celebrate, he mostly mourned that the cause of it was not a real mending of fences but rather his brother simply forgetting that he existed, just as their father always had.

Lan Qiren took the first opportunity he had to get out of the Cloud Recesses, even attending a party to celebrate sworn brother’s new son with relatively little issue. During the visit, Wen Ruohan ignored him in favor of sticking ever closer to a strangely distracted Lao Nie, almost as if he were deliberately slighting Lan Qiren for having been cold in their last interaction and for not answering his letters the way he wanted. Lan Qiren briefly felt hurt at having been put aside and forgotten so quickly - assuming that he had been forgotten, which he wasn’t sure of, as Wen Ruohan ignoring him sometimes seemed almost performative - but then reminded himself that this, like his poor relationship with his blood brother, was only the results of his own actions, and those of others.

He didn’t – regret it, not really. He’d lived his life by the Lan sect rules, and he didn’t regret doing so now, no matter how lonely the results might make him feel.

Instead, he returned to the Cloud Recesses and began to plan out in earnest his plans for departing the Cloud Recesses to travel the world as a musician, the goal he had set since he was young and was finally, impossibly, on the verge of satisfying. He would need to stay for his brother’s ascension to sect leader the next year, he thought, and perhaps for a year after that – just because their relationship wasn’t good didn’t mean he was entitled to do things that would let other people talk about it – but after that…

After that, he would go.

He would make new friends, or not. He would learn new things. He would see what the world was like.

Sooner than he thought, Lan Qiren turned twenty, thereby finally becoming an adult. The event took place with little fanfare, and Lan Qiren sent back the gifts he received from both Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie unopened with a polite note indicating that he was unworthy of such attention, and Cangse Sanren’s with a much more emphatic note reminding her that he was largely uninterested in sexual matters and therefore had no need for these sorts of implements. 

His brother got him new guqin strings, the same gift he always gave – Lan Qiren had once been very happy to receive it before he realized that it was the storeroom distributing the gift in his brother’s name – and Lan Qiren returned that as well. Lan Yueheng was the only one who successfully managed to give him a gift by virtue of sneaking the fancy brush he’d bought for him into his table in such a way that Lan Qiren utilized it before realizing it was new, and then refused to take it back on the basis that it had already been used. He looked so pleased with himself over his little trick that Lan Qiren didn’t have the heart to scold him.

Time continued to pass: day by day, night by night, season by season.

And then she arrived.