#because long hair is a pain in the ass to deal with (coming from someone with long hair)

[saph-yells-into-the-void]

saw an art of fem!reonagi and oh my god the brainrot of bllk character as girls....

flooding my head cannot stop thinking about it. goddamit I HAVE AN ESSAY TO WRITE- FOCUS

[sailorsoons]

Vengeance (c.hs)

Pairing: Vernon x f. reader

Summary: You always knew you were different from a young age. The only person who has ever been able to understand you is Vernon. When things take a turn for the Choi Syndicate, your long-term relationship is put to the test.

Full Fic Word Count: 21,528

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

Type: Smut, Heavy Angst

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

Warnings: Because of the nature of this fic, I have placed them under the cut. Please read them carefully before engaging with this fic.

A/N: This fic is a part of my Syndicates Collection. This will the second installment under the Syndicate Universe, but you can always read this fic on its own. I hope everyone enjoys Vernon’s story as much as they enjoyed Hoshi’s!

A/2: Thank you @daechwitatamic for being an amazing beta reader. I love you to the moon.

Main Masterlist | The Syndicates Collection | Ask | Playlist

Warnings: Because I am trying to overwarn due to subject matter, please read these carefully! General violence associated with criminal empires and criminal underground, mentions of murder and depictions of murder, depictions of punishment from parent to child, depictions of attempted murder (reader’s mother to reader via drowning, vernon’s father to vernon via choking), themes of religious trauma, themes of dealing with a parent that experiences undisclosed/ambiguous religious psychosis, mentions of dealing with a parent who is fighting addiction, kids arguing and getting into a fight (it’s honestly kind of funny, not violent at all), depiction of patricide (cool motive, still murder), heavy internal angst for reader/repressed feelings, grieving the loss of a loved one, explicit language, references to drugs and recreational alcohol use, Vernon does drive a motorcycle after drinking - it is implied he’s using a stimulant to combat that, some puppy love scenes/vernon and reader making out and being teenagers, brief interrogation scene where reader/Soonyoung are harming someone (stepping on their fingers) for information, explicit sexual content including oral (f. receiving) mild ass play, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, implied breath play, reader experience something adjacent to subspace post-sex.

God doesn’t like strange girls. 

Well, you don’t know what makes you strange and you’re not entirely sure you believe in God. You’re only eight, and even though your mother prays to Him with a reverence reserved only for him, on her knees until they’re bleeding, her body shaking with exhaustion, you don’t think you want to believe in God. 

God is the only man your mother loves. For you, it’s your father. You can’t understand how your mother can pledge herself so wholly to someone she can’t see, someone who doesn’t seem to do much for her. 

Your father is tangible and real, and he does everything for you. He takes you to school in the mornings, he brushes your hair, he buys you the books you need for class, he protects you from her, when she is screaming that you need to purge your sin for Him, that you should prostrate for Him, that dirty nails offend Him. 

Uncooked grains of rice bite into your knees. You try to maintain your balance, not wanting to shift on them any more than you have to. Every time you wobble or try to adjust to lessen the pain, it only gets worse. 

Behind you, your mother’s voice comes out in staccato, her murmurs feverish: No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it. 

The sin this time were the honey cakes the neighbor brought over for your birthday. They were perfectly golden, flaky and brown on the edges and moist on the inside, filling your mouth with sweet, honey flavor. They’d left your fingers a little sticky, the corner of your mouth a little flaky. 

You’d only eaten two of them when your mother discovered you in the living room, shrieking when she saw you indulging. Coveting. Full of gluttony. 

Licking your lips, you shift on the grains of rice. It stings, making your eyes water. Your shoulders ache, neck tight where you hold your hands behind your back. Time moves inexorably as you kneel there, the prayers for your mother’s God washing over you as you pay penance for a sin you don’t understand. 

When the front door opens, you nearly weep with relief. Salvation is here, and it isn’t in the form of God shepparading his followers into heaven. Relief comes in the form of your father storming toward where you kneel, picking you up off the ground and asking your mother what she’s doing. 

Deliverance comes when he gently wipes the grains of rice from your knees while you sit on the bathroom counter. He rubs a rag softly over the dimpled skin, wiping away a little bit of blood where the grains cut through the flesh. He applies a salve and presses a kiss to your head, apologizing. 

“Do you want to open your gifts, Angel?” You nod eagerly, forgetting all about the honey cakes that your mother threw out or the pain in your knees. 

Your mother sleeps in the bedroom, muttering feverishly. You and your father creep out to the kitchen where he lets you open the boxes in the privacy of four walls. He leans against the counter as you tear open the crinkling wrapping paper, liking the way it feels beneath your fingers, the way it crackles, like it’s telling you a secret. 

Popping the lid to the box, you reveal a beautiful gold necklace. The chain is thin but feels strong. It’s long and on the end, there’s a flattened coin charm with a figure of an angel etched into the face. You rub your thumb on it, mouth opening and grinning. 

“Do you like it?” Your dad asks. You nod your head early and he laughs. “Here, let me put it on.” 

You hand it over to him and he loops the necklace around your neck, fastening the necklace. When he pulls away, his grin is bright as the sun. “An angel for my Angel. As long as you have it on, I’ll always be with you and it will protect you.” 

Your mother has her God, but you have yours. And you’re his messenger, his follower, his angel.

-

“You are a demon!” Your mother shrieks, her voice raw and cracking. You ignore her as she leaps at you, slamming the door shut and holding it hard. She twists the knob but you hold fast, pulling your weight against the door so she can’t open it. “Demon! Demon! Scourge of the earth! You are the darkness! God will prevail against you! He will rise up in his righteousness-”

“Is this bathroom taken?” 

Looking over your shoulder, you see a boy around your age looking at you. He’s standing a few feet away down the hall, fingers twisting together nervously as he looks at you and then the rattling door. He’s pretty, with soft brown hair that hangs in his dark eyes. His face is round and his cheeks are flushed pink from hiking up the stairs. 

“Um,” you look at the door as the pounding subsides, followed by wailing. “Yeah, you can’t come in here. I’m sorry.” 

“Do you know where there’s another bathroom?” 

You shake your head. “I don’t live here. It’s Daddy’s friend's house.” 

“Your dad is friends with the Tower too?” 

You nod and he smiles. “Me too. I’m Hansol, but everyone calls me Vernon. Only my mom calls me Hansol ‘cause I love her.” 

You give him your name and pause before adding, “My dad calls me Angel.” 

Vernon grins. “I like it.” 

“Thanks.”

He glances at the door. “Do you need help? I can keep you company.”

You blush. “No, I’m okay. Thank you, Vernon.” 

Vernon toes the ground for a second, the tip of his shoe creasing the carpet. He tucks his hands in his pocket and chews on his lip before he bows a little and says, “Well I’m going to find another bathroom. It was nice to meet you, Angel.”

“You too, Vernon.” 

When he walks back down the stairs, he pauses halfway to look at you. You’re watching him with a grin, butterflies in your stomach when he grins back and waves again before descending the stairs back down to the party - where you’re supposed to be, instead of containing your mother as she cries on the other side of the door.

The party had started off fine with her smiling and having a good time. Somewhere between the first drink and her last, she felt Him again, dragging you to the bathroom to make you choke up the shirley temple you’d had. 

Gluttonous. Greedy. Indulgent. 

Unfortunately, your father had been busy somewhere with the Tower and some of the other men. He has no idea she dragged you to the bathroom for one of her episodes. But even at nine, you know how to fight her off now. She gives up just as easily as she starts, so if you can trap her long enough, usually she’ll scream herself into exhaustion. 

It’s not a good look. Even as a kid you know this. Parties are an important social setting for members of the Choi Syndicate, especially when they’re held at the Tower’s home. The Tower is the most important member of the organization, the boss, the king - that’s how your dad describes it. The Tower is owed loyalty and reverence, and being invited into his family home is very important. 

As a Sword, your father owes his loyalty to the Choi family. You don’t know what a Sword really does, other than it’s supposed to be exactly what it sounds like - a weapon. Your dad doesn’t talk much about his work, but on nights like tonight, he’s on duty circulating the party while you and your mother attend as guests. 

Well, you were supposed to attend as guests until your mother felt the call of God again. It wears on you, having to constantly be responsible for her. You’ve missed so many parties holding her hostage in a room and away from eyes, trying to protect yourself but most of all, protect your dad. If people knew… you don’t know what would happen, but you feel the need to hide her anyway. 

That’s how your dad finds you, leaning against the door and half asleep. He sighs heavily, crouching down as you blink up at him. He touches your cheek lightly and asks, “Ready to go home, Angel?” 

You nod and he grins, scooping you up and tucking you against him. Your savior comes at last. 

-

Afternoon sun bakes on the back of your head. You reach up, pressing your palm to your scalp, feeling the warmth. Sweat slicks your back and behind your kneecaps, running down your legs and making you squirm as you look around the yard, uncertain. 

The yard is filled with tables, beautiful floral centerpieces in each of them. Flowing ribbons decorate the backs of the chairs with balloons tied to each, their center filled with dancing lights that look like butterflies. Servants move about the party dressed in all white to match the birthday theme, holding silver trays with various confectionaries and fizzy drinks. 

Adults filled the yard but there’s a good dozen kids around your age. You only know some of them - specifically the birthday girl, who is the daughter of the Tower. She’s in the far corner of the yard, crouching down near a pond to look at turtles with a round-cheeked boy you don’t know. 

Worst of all is the heat. It is sweltering outside and though there are powerful fans circulating cool air around the yard, nothing is enough to reach you through the layers of fabric your mother has stuffed you in, gushing about how you looked like God’s perfect angel, dressed in white and covered to the eyeballs in fabric. 

“Hi, Angel.” A soft voice makes you turn and you can’t help but smile when you see Vernon. It’s been a few weeks since you last saw him, but you’re delighted and a little shy when you wave. He looks at your dress and frowns. “You’re very frilly. And… covered.”

That you are. The dress is beyond itchy, the white material reading all the way to the middle of your hands and the collar up to the jaw. You are covered from head to toe in the white, restricting material, the skirts of the dress falling in layers of chiffon to the floor. 

You huff and cross your arms, feeling the sweat drip down your neck and back. “My mom made me wear it. I hate it.”

“Do you want different clothes? I have a room here. I bet I have pants and stuff that could fit.” 

That makes you brighten. “Really?” He nods. “Yeah, that would be cool. I hate this dress.” 

Vernon beckons you toward the main house. There are multiple houses on the Choi property, which has more land than you’ve ever seen. Even the concept of a yard blows you away. The Choi family are the kind of rich that is confusing to you, but you like going over to their house, especially when it’s not busy. 

“Why do you have a room here?” You ask Vernon, who opens a door. The security team lets him, ignoring him as he enters the house proper. “I thought it was just the Choi family.”

“It is but sometimes…” He trails off as he leads you through a massive living area toward a foyer with stairs. “Um, it’s hard to explain.” 

“That’s okay. That’s cool, though.” 

He nods. “Sometimes.” 

“Only sometimes?” 

On the second floor, Vernon leads you down two different carpeted hallways until he stops at a door, opening it up. It’s a nice room, if not a little simple. It smells like clean linen and there’s an AetherLink in the corner with a paused game. 

Vernon walks over to the closet, opening the door. The lights turn on automatically, showing how deep the rows and rows of clothing goes. You raise your brows, trailing behind him. Your house is a decent size - and it’s impressive you live in a house, not an apartment - but this is something else. 

Grabbing stuff off the hanger, Vernon hands it over to you. He’s given you white pants and a white flowy shirt to match the rest of the party. You take it tentatively, feeling how soft the fabric is between your fingers. 

“Sometimes I fight with Seungcheol,” Vernon admits. “He’s older and thinks he’s the boss. His mom doesn’t like me much.” 

“Tell them to shut up.” 

Vernon’s mouth twitches, an almost smirk. “Yeah, maybe. The bathroom is there if you want to change.” 

The bathroom is just as grand as the rest of the house. You change quickly, folding your dress and tucking it into your arm, coming out to stand hesitantly. He’s leaning against the dresser, hands in his pocket as he stares at the ground. When you come out, he gives you a small smile and holds out his hand for the dress. You give it to him and he puts it on his dresser before turning to you, appraising your outfit.

“Hopefully you won’t sweat to death now.” 

Your smile is small. “Thanks.” 

“Do you want to see the turtles?” You nod early, pressing your sweaty palms against your pants - Vernon’s pants - to dry them. “Come on.” 

Afternoon sun beats down on the back of your neck as you lean over the turtle pond. There are so many of them, their shells have different shapes and sizes with bellies that are different colors and patterns. Your knees press into the dirt, uncaring if you stain them as Vernon does the same. 

Vernon knows all about the turtles. He picks up each one delicately, letting it grow accustomed to him before placing them in your palm. He tells you their names, their scientific species name, how old they are, when they came to the Choi Estate, and their likes and dislikes. 

It’s like a bubble has formed around you. The party continues onward, but you only have eyes for Vernon, who picks up a small turtle, cradling it in his palm. The turtle is dark green, with thin yellow striating its body and coral red spots blooming on its head. It cranes up to look at Vernon, blinking twice. 

“This is Blush,” Vernon says gently. He brings his other finger up and runs it along the back of its shell delicately. It flinches for a second before it extends its neck upward, as though it wants more. He smiles and continues, eyes fixated. “She’s the newest turtle added to the pond. She’s a red-eared slider, which is why she has this red here. Baby named her Blush.”

“I love her blush.”

Vernon smiles. “We’ve had her for a month. She’s part of the emydidae family which has about fifty species. Her scientific name is trachemys scripta elegans and she’s a type of pond turtle like the others. She’s my favorite.” 

“I can see why.” 

“Do you want to hold her?” 

Before you can answer, a shadow falls over you. Both of you look up to see the Tower’s eldest son standing over you, his arms crossed and a frown on his face. Vernon’s reaction is instantaneous as he quickly puts Blush back on her rock and wipes his hands on his pants, making them damp. 

“You missed singing happy birthday,” Choi Seungcheol snaps. His voice wavers right between adolescence and that first crack of puberty. “And of course you’re with the fucking turtles.” 

“I was showing her… sorry.”

Seungcheol’s eyes go to you. He drinks in your outfit and his frown only increases, making you feel on edge. You don’t like that look on his face, like he’s annoyed with you. He doesn’t even know you. 

Turning his attention back to Vernon he says, “Get up. You’re going to have to explain to my mother who kindly bought you those clothes why you let some girl stain them.” 

“Alright.” 

You look at Vernon, remembering what he had said early about Seungcheol sometimes talking to him like he was the boss. Irritation comes alive in you, thinking of all the times your mother has done exactly that despite her not being the boss of you either.

Turning to Seungcheol you say, “You don’t have to be mean about it.” 

“What?”

“Do your ears not work? You don’t have to be mean to him. He was being nice to me and you’re just being rude.” 

Seungcheol’s ears go red and he clenches his fists. “I don’t have to be nice to him. I’m the son of the Tower-”

“You’re not the Tower though, and even the Tower is nice. My dad says he’s nice. You’re not.”

“Angel,” Vernon mutters, a warning tone to his voice. 

“No,” you tell Vernon. “He’s not being nice to you and you didn’t do anything wrong.” Your mother’s face swims in your vision, the way your knees bleed when she makes you kneel on grains of rice, the sting of a switch against your back when she punishes you. “You’re not supposed to be mean to people who didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Something you say makes Seungcheol’s face thunderous. You watch the darkness cloud over him, his eyes darting to Vernon. The older boy sees something there that you do not, because he goes from angry to full of rage in moments as he crouches down to eye level, looking at Vernon who has ducked his head. 

“This little bastard knows what he fucking did wrong. He was born.” 

Vernon doesn’t move. His breathing is heavy and you see the way his fingers grip his pants, bone white with ferocity. He doesn’t dare look at Seungcheol, who is looking at Vernon like he wants to hit him - like he might hit him. It’s exactly how your mother looks at you for drinking a soda that your dad got you, or how she looks at you when you read a book on the couch. 

But Vernon doesn’t deserve it. Vernon who was nice to you in the hallway when other people ignored you. Vernon who gave you a change of clothes because you hated yours. Vernon who knows all of the names of the turtles in the pond because he sees them as friends.

Looking at them, all you see is you kneeled in supplication while your mother’s shadow looms over you, dominating. Final. Hateful. 

You barely remember leaping forward to tackle Choi Seungcheol. One minute you’re a shaking, angry mess and the other you’re on top of him screaming at him, hitting him with little closed fists that can’t deliver any real damage. 

Seungcheol thrashes under you, several times your size and strength as he manages to knock you off of him. He rolls over on the ground, nose crimson where you landed a single good punch on him. He yells at you but you can barely hear him through the high-pitched ringing in your ears as the rage turns into something all consuming, something you can’t stop, something that makes you want to hit and hit and hit -

Someone knocks you over. There is a high-pitched screaming before you realize that the birthday girl is on top of you, pulling your hair in a rage for attacking her brother. You push back at her, all your rage exploding as the two of you scream like feral cats. You pull anything on her that you can - hair, her dress, earrings - it doesn't matter. You yank and yank until someone is pulling the two of you apart.  

The dark-haired boy that was with Seungcheol’s sister earlier is pinning you to the ground. You thrash in his hold but he’s strong, keeping you down until suddenly he topples over as Vernon crashes into him, sending him to the side. Now Vernon is the one yelling, he and the boy rolling over as they fight for dominance like you and the girl moments before. 

A booming adult voice startles you as they shout, “Enough!” 

Vernon and the other boy scramble to their feet, covered in dirt and grass and blood. Both of them bow deeply at the waist, unmoving as a man approaches. Around him, the adults part like the river at the prow of a boat. He’s dressed in an all white suite with a single, obsidian brooch on his lapel in the shape of a mountain. 

The Tower. 

Behind him is your father, and another man you don’t recognize but looks identical to the boy Vernon had tackled, all high and round cheekbones with intense eyes glaring down at the miniature version of himself. You assume he’s the boy's dad, and by the way he’s dressed, you know he’s important to the Choi family. 

“All of you,” the Tower instructs. “In my office. Now.” 

“Yes Tower,” you all echo in unison.

Seungcheol is the first to march after his father, spine stiff. His sister is right on his heels with the other boy right behind her. He looks over his shoulder once to scowl at you, a warning that you don’t understand before he quickens his steps after her. 

Vernon sighs heavily, looking after them before he turns to you. “Come on.” 

The party goes on without you all and the birthday girl. The strings start again and the adults go back to talking, some of them giggling as they watch your group of stained and bloody kids trekking behind the Tower of the Choi Syndicate into the estate. 

Some of the ground floor is familiar to you. You pass through living spaces and darkened hallways with old fashion sconces before you reach a parlor room with two guards standing on the outside. Both of them look at the Choi siblings fondly, one of them leaning over to check Seungcheol’s nose before smiling and patting him on the cheek. 

Inside the Tower’s office smells like leather and sweet tobacco. It’s not unpleasant but it’s unfamiliar to the heavy incense and myrrh constantly choking the air of your home. Books line the walls behind a sitting area with big, leather armchairs and an old coffee table made of rich wood. 

You kind of like the room, looking around at all the strange gadgets and things unfamiliar to as the Tower clears his throat. He leans on his desk casually, crossing his arms over his chest as the five of you line up, looking at the floor underneath the heavy gaze of the Syndicate leader.

All you know about the Tower is that your dad loves him. He says he’s like family, and that out of all the men in the world who could lead the business to greatness, it’s Choi Moojin. He comes from a long line of powerful men, firm and powerful as the mountain that their name draws its meaning from. Married into the fire and wrath of the Hino family, the Choi’s have been unstoppable since he stepped into his father’s position as Tower.

And now you punched the boy who is supposed to grow into a man and replace him. 

It’s a bad look. You know it is, and you don’t know how much trouble you’re in, but you would do it again. Vernon had been so soft-spoken and gentle when showing you the turtles, pointing out every detail he liked about them, listening when you asked questions.

No one listened to you when you asked questions. He did. And Seungcheol had wanted to punish him for no reason, to make Vernon feel small, to make him-

“Explain,” the Tower commands, voice rough. He points to Seungcheol. “You first.” 

“That crazy little girl hit me!” he exclaims, pointing at you. “She tackled me like a savage-”

“You were mean to Vernon!” you explode, unable to keep silent. “He was showing me turtles and you were being a jerk and you hurt his feelings!”

Both Seungcheol and his sister start screaming at you, though the third boy and Vernon both stay silent as the grave. The Tower interrupts his children again, raising a hand to silence him. They fall into line immediately, bowing their heads as an apology. 

The Tower looks at you and you cower, dropping your eyes. “You’re like your father,” he notes, though he doesn’t sound too angry. “Which is probably a good thing. What did Seungcheol say to Hansol that made you tackle him, hmm?” 

“He called him a bastard. And something about not liking that he was born.” 

There’s a heavy pause in the air. No one breathes, all of you waiting as the Tower deliberates. Finally, it’s his daughter who murmurs, “What’s a rastard?” 

Suddenly, the Tower is laughing. You’re not sure at what but you glance at him from the corner of your eye to see he doesn’t look as imposing as he had earlier. Next to you, you feel Vernon relax. His shoulders drop, less tight and his mouth twitches a little. 

“You kids,” the Tower sighs. “All carbon copies of your parents, I’m afraid. Seungcheol, I want you to apologize to Hansol. You know that wasn’t kind, and you’re the son of the Tower. You know better than that.” 

Seungcheol nods and turns to Vernon, giving him a full ninety degree bow. “I’m sorry for insulting you and being impolite. I was… angry. It’s no excuse.” 

Vernon bows a little. “I accept.” 

“Now how,” the Tower says to his daughter and the boy next to her, “did the two of you get involved? Soonyoung?” 

The boy next to the Tower’s daughter shifts. “Baby got mad that she,” he spits the word out toward you, “punched Seungcheol. So she started fighting with her and I tried to pull them apart. Then Vernon hit me.” 

The Tower looks at Vernon, surprised. 

“I was scared he was going to hurt Angel.” 

“I see. Angel, is it?” 

“That’s what my dad likes to call me.”

The Tower smiles and nods. “Were you just protecting Hansol?”

“Yes. He’s nice and… doesn’t deserve to be punished for being nice.” 

“You have good character, Angel. Hansol needs someone to watch over him. I’m glad he has you.” 

A flush goes through you, white hot. You don’t really know what he means, but you’re pleased nonetheless. You glance at Vernon to see him fighting a smile, his fingers nervously pulling at the threads of his ripped shirt. 

“You all might not know it,” the Tower announces, “but you’re family. Your parents are my closest confidants, my secret-keepers, my best friends. You all will be like us, one day. Sometimes we fight - fighting is good for the spirit. But at the end of the day, we apologize, we make amends, and we move on. It is important to do those things, yes?” 

“Yes, Tower.” 

“Everyone make amends. You’re bound to one another for life. Start acting like it.” 

-

Vernon cradles a tablet in his lap, the diagrams and charts to his math homework hovering above the screen. He sighs, shaking his head as he uses his fingers to spin the hologram around, watching it intensely. The light turns his face blue, reflecting in his dark brown eyes. It makes his freckles stand out more, the light smattering of them dusting the tops of his cheeks and his nose. 

There’s a bruise on his jaw again. It makes you shift uncomfortably. Vernon’s dad doesn’t hit him, but his mad rampages influenced by the number of substances he’s prone to get into every now and again make him difficult to contain. As the only other man of the house, it’s Vernon’s job to do so. 

At least, that’s what Vernon says. You’re not so sure, hating each time you find a random bruise on him, another badge of honor at containing his father’s tirades now that he’s too young to hide at the Choi Estate. 

You’re supposed to be doing homework alongside Vernon, but you can’t take your eyes off of him. The windows are open to the rain, an occasional blast of wind coming in and misting the room with the smell of lotus blossom and petrichor. It’s nice, the steady drip drip drip of the rain on the roof a pleasant backtrack to your studying session, which feels like it has stretched on forever. 

In time with your thoughts, Vernon stretches. You watch the way he reaches his arms upward, sleeves constricting around his biceps which have become corded and strong under Soonyoung and Seungcheol’s careful tutelage at the gym. His shirt pulls up a little with the stretch, revealing a stretch of smooth, pale stomach. 

Flustered, you snap your eyes back to your homework. You should be thinking about history, not Vernon’s stupid stomach or his stupid arms. Both of which, at twelve years old, have become insanely distracting for you. 

Gone is the little boy who taught you about turtles, replaced by a very cute boy that you cannot stop staring at every time you do homework together. 

Thunder rolls in the distance. You look up at the ceiling as though you could see the darkening sky through it. Outside, the wind swells, growing stronger as the full strength of the storm nears. Still, you don’t close the windows. It keeps the room cool in the summer months and you like the scent and feel of the rain. 

A bang startles you at the front of the house. You whirl around in your seat, Vernon’s head snapping toward the entryway where your door is open, blasts of rain coming in. Paper goes flying around the house as your mother stands in the door, soaked and shaking. She’s staring right at you and Vernon, her eyes wide, mouth open.

A chill comes over you. It has nothing to do with the rain. You murmur for Vernon to stay exactly where he is as you peel yourself off of the couch and approach her slowly. She’s dressed in her temple clothes, the fabric sticking to her wire-thin frame. Her hair is pasted to her face and she’s panting, nearly frothing at the mouth.

She looks like a wraith coming to take your soul. 

“Mom?” you ask, tentative. Her eyes dart to Vernon. Back to you. Your stomach sinks. “It’s just Vernon - you know, the Chwe’s son? He’s just here for homework.” 

“Whore,” she hisses, her voice demonic. “Filthy rotten whore, sinning in my house?” 

“No, we’re doing-”

Her hand reaches for you. You’re fast, but she’s like an adder, striking your wrist and latching on. You yank your hand back as she storms into the house, ripping you after her. You stumble and Vernon shoots to his feet, throwing his homework to the side.

“Call my dad!” You yell at him as your mother hauls you to the hallway, her hand like an iron claw on your wrist, threatening to break it. Her anger feels like the wrath of god, but you know her god isn’t real. Only yours is, and you need him now. “Please, call him!”

“Whore!” your mother screeches, launching you through the bathroom door. She lets you go as you fall forward, slamming into the bathroom tile. It jars you, pain blooming in your shoulder particularly. You cry out, unable to stop it as she climbs over you. “Whoring in my house! In the presence of God! O forgive me Lord, for she is wretched and foul!”

“Stop it!”

“I will cleanse the sin from this house, I will rid thee of this loathsome woman, who dares to perform filth under your reverent eyes!” 

Her fingers tangle in your hair and she pulls. You scream, shoving at her. She is soaking wet with rain, dripping on you and turning the tile slippery as you thrash under her like a fish. Your scalp screams as she yanks you toward the bathtub, strands of your hair coming out with the ferocity. 

Your head smacks the side of the tub, making your world spin. For a moment, the ceiling spins on its axis, lights blurry. The pain leaves your scalp for a moment, your mother vanishing from your vision as you get the urge to vomit, trying to roll over and push yourself off the side of the bathtub and get away. 

Thunder rolls above you, shaking the foundation of the house. Your hands slide on the tile as you push yourself up, only to be knocked back down again as she shoulders you into the bathtub. A pitiful noise leaves your mouth as you go down hard on your shoulder. You feel the crack, the pain worse than anything you’ve ever experienced before. 

Crying, you clutch your shoulder, trying to roll off of it, to do anything. Touching the arm hurts, but trying to move is worse. It is a radiating pain, jarring, searing-

Water floods your mouth. You gasp, choking as you lift your head to see that the faucet is running. With renewed panic, you thrash, nearly blacking out with the pain that explodes from the injured arm. Your mother, who doesn’t seem to notice the break, grabs you by the back of your head and shoves you forward. 

The pain incapacitates you. Blots out everything else, your inability to fight back vanishing and replaced with only the knowledge that the pain exists. It increases tenfold. Fifty fold. A hundred fold. 

Thunder pounds against the walls of the bathroom. It shakes the door in the frame, it splinters. You can barely register the thunder over the rush of the water filling your ears, but it’s there, accompanied by the rush of water in your mouth. 

Panic slams back into you. You can’t breathe, can’t see. You flail, sitting upward for a moment to suck in a sharp, painful breath. 

“Have mercy on me, O God,” your mother gasps, her hands on your face, nails biting into your skin. “According to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. I will remove evil from thy house, and embrace your grace and love.” 

Water fills the tub. She pushes you back under and you scream in terror, forgetting to take a breath before your world is a dull roar. You thrash, kicking at her, slapping at her, tearing your nails into her wrists. It’s like she can’t feel pain, can’t be convinced to let go.

Your lungs ache, your nose filled with water. Her grip loosens for a second and you wretch yourself upward, choking and coughing, mucus and bile burning the back of your throat as you hack. The water is near the edge of the tub, sloshing as you try to crawl away from her. 

“Stop!” You scream as she grabs you by the hair again. “Stop! Mommy, stop! Please!” 

Water fills your mouth again. You gag on it, feeling your throat constrict as it fights between needing to wretch and swallow down water. Before your body can figure out which, you’re being hauled out of the water, the world spinning. 

You fall over the side of the bathtub onto the floor, a pile of soaking, trembling limbs. Water spills over the sides of the tub like a waterfall as you choke up the water you’ve already swallowed, vomiting it out on the tile. 

Someone grabs you and you scream in terror, not wanting to go back into the tub. 

“It’s me!” Vernon’s voice wavers, higher-pitched than you’re used to. You get your bearings, lifting your head to see him. He’s next to you, soaked and panicked as he holds his hands out, not touching you. “It’s me.” 

Turning away from him, you look where your mother is lying on the tiles. She’s still breathing, but she’s got a knot forming on her forehead. Behind her, the door to the bathroom is in splinters, entirely kicked through and torn apart - Vernon, you realize. It wasn’t thunder, it had been Vernon kicking through the door. 

A knot forms in your throat as you swivel back to him. He’s on his knees, water pooling around him as the bathroom floods. His hair is soaked, long strands hanging in his eyes, which are wide with terror. He’s panting and there’s a little bit of blood on his hands, splinters visible. 

Vernon, who taught you about turtles and all of their names. Vernon, who always quietly sits next to you at parties so you don’t feel alone. Vernon, who had tackled Soonyoung because he thought you were in danger that time at Baby’s birthday party. Vernon, who liked to sit on your couch with the windows open when it rained because he enjoyed the smell. 

Vernon, who pulled you from your mother’s wrath. Who saved you. Not your dad, but Vernon, this time. A new god. A fierce one. 

When you start to cry, Vernon doesn’t hesitate. He reaches for you, pulling you into him. You yelp when he touches your shoulder and his touch turns careful. He slides himself against the wall, pulling you between his legs to press your good shoulder against him. His chest is warm, the steady beat of his heart underneath your cheek as you press yourself into him, heaving. 

Vernon’s arms come around you, careful not to touch your shoulder. You don’t care if he does. No pain can blot this out, no pain can erase what he’s done for you. He cradles you to him like you mean everything to him, hands pressed to you and mouth against your forehead, murmuring it’s okay. I’ve got you. 

Your fingers twist in his shirt as you try to catch your breath, shaking violently. He doesn’t mind, just letting you use him however you need. A constant force, a guardian who requires no penance, no devotion, no alms in return for his protection. 

“I’ve got you,” Vernon promises, kissing your temple. He squeezes you tighter. “I’m not letting you go. I’ll never let you go.”

It’s how your father finds you when he skids into the doorway, wrapped in Vernon’s arms and trembling as the bathroom floods around you, mother muttering under her breath about the demon in her home. 

His eyes look from your mother to you, and you see it. The realization of what’s happened. Your god turns his vengeful eye on your mother, and you know you will never know her terror again. 

-

Blossom petals fall from the ceiling as your father dips Yoon Minji by the waist to kiss her. Everyone in the pews shoots to their feet, clapping happily as he smiles into the kiss. They don’t overdo it, stepping away to bow a bit to their guests, laughing and happy. You clap from where you stand on the side, one of the few bridesmaids she’s picked for the wedding. 

You think you like Yoon Minji. You don’t know much about her beyond knowing that she is from one of the wealthiest families in the Choi Syndicate, and she’s the current Wisdom to Choi Moojin, which makes her the second most powerful person in the room directly after the Tower. 

Across from you, her son Jeonghan claps politely, placed among the groomsmen. He’s a little bit older than you in his late teens, a spitting image of his mother with her coquettish smirk and knowing eyes. Jeonghan you do like, though you’re not sure you trust. 

Trust is a fickle thing that only two people in the room you’re standing in have earned. One of them is now walking with his new wife back down the aisle from the altar where they said their vows, and the other is sitting stiffly between his mother and father, his dark eyes only on you. 

Butterflies erupt in your stomach. You feel warmth spread up your neck to your cheeks as you begin the processional back up the aisle, walking to meet Jeonghan who gives you a raised brow. 

“You’re blushing,” he teases, looping your arm with his as he escorts you. “Is it because a certain Chwe is looking this way?”

You roll your eyes at the rhyme. “You just wanted to make a rhyme.”

“I’m also right.”

“If that’s what helps you sleep at night.”

He grins, turning to you, pleased at your rhyming. “I like having you for a sister. I’ll see you later, go see your mister.” 

“Ugh, goodbye, Jeonghan.”

Your new step-brother lets go. He grins at you, always looking like the cat that ate the canary. You shake him off, knowing that lying to him about Vernon is pointless. The two of you are usually glued to one another’s side, near inseparable to the point that you asked if you could be a guest instead of a member of the wedding party. 

That had earned a hard no from your father, despite how much he likes Vernon. 

Now, though, you’re free to do what you want for cocktail hour. Naturally, this means stealing a bottle of wine from behind the bar when the bartenders aren’t looking and slipping out one of the side entrances outside. 

Balmy air kisses your skin. The sun has long since faded and crickets chirp as you descend the steps toward the massive gardens on the property. The reception will be held in the east garden, so naturally you head to the west garden, slipping your phone out to message Vernon and tell him where to find you. 

A waxing moon hangs in the sky. The entire world looks blue under its light, dark enough to slip away unnoticed but bright enough not to get lost on the cobblestone path, following the tinkling sound of a fountain.

The small courtyard has a massive fountain at its center. The statue centerpiece shows a series of mermaids resting upon rocks, water sprouting around them and showering them with mist. You walk up to the fountain's edge, looking at the glittering coins at the bottom that make the water smell coppery. 

Mist cools your skin from the fountain. You study the mermaids while you wait for Vernon, eyeing the details of each scale, each strand of hair. The artist had a good hand, the careful lines and curves of the stone life-like. 

Footsteps make you turn around. Vernon enters the yard, his hands tucked in the pocket of his suit pants. He looks at ease, walking in that same loping gait he always does. Now that he’s fourteen, he’s a lot taller than he used to be. Still wire thin, but not gangly like he was as a youth.

Tonight, his hair is gelled back. You feel your heart start to race again as he grins when he sees you, a smile only reserved for you. He looks painfully handsome, his suit fitting him just right and a cluster of white flowers that you’ve never seen before pinned to his jacket. 

“Where’d you get that?” He gestures to the bottle of wine as he stands next to you, kicking a foot up on the fountain's edge to lean his elbow on his knee.

“Stole it from behind the bar.”

He shakes his head, laughing and holding his hand out. You give it to him and he turns the label upward, reading it in the moonlight. “This is good shit. They should keep better track of their wine.”

“I’m good at not being seen.”

“Oh, I’m aware.” Vernon peels the foil off the wine bottle, pausing to look you up and down. “I always see you, though.”

As soon as he says it, he drops his eyes. You stare at him, your heartbeat racing as he pulls out a knife to get the cork out the bottle. You don’t ask why he has a knife - you have one too. A beautiful little butterfly knife with a mother of pearl handle and an edge sharp enough to cut a single strand of hair. It had been a gift from Jeonghan, a little welcome to the family. 

Vernon is always like this. He says things that make you stare at him, trying to unravel their meaning. You’re both fourteen and you know what flirting is, but you can’t figure out if that’s what he’s doing or not. Sometimes Vernon just says things and doesn’t mean anything secondary. He’s simple like that, very to the point and forward. Other times, you swear there is an inflection there, but you can’t tell if it’s because there is or you want there to be. 

This is one of those times. Of course Vernon always sees you - he knows you better than anyone else in the world. From the moment he pulled you out of that tub and cradled you to his chest, you knew that you were his. It doesn’t matter if he knows or not. You’re entirely devoted to him - all because he doesn’t ask for it. Doesn’t expect it. 

He doesn’t expect anything from anyone. It’s part of why you like him so much. He believes in keeping to himself and keeping quiet, carefully observing the world around him. Jeonghan thinks it makes Vernon dangerous - the good kind, he had emphasized. The useful kind. 

You think it makes him perfect. 

Vernon manages to get the cork out the wine bottle, his smile electric as he turns to you, presenting the bottle. You clap happily, taking it from him and bringing it up to your lips to take a hearty swig. 

Immediately you cough, making a face as the wine hits your mouth. It’s fruity but it’s dry and tangy, something about it making you shake your head. After a difficult swallow, you take a big breath of air and give it back to him, still coughing. 

“Wine is terrible.” 

He takes it and tilts it towards you, his own cheers. When he takes a sip, he makes a face but his reaction is far less vile than yours. Smacking his lips together he says, “Yeah, not great.” 

Together, you sit on the fountain, sticking your feet in the water. Vernon has rolled up his pants, to the knee, swishing his feet back and forth as you take another sip from the bottle. Your dress is pooled around your thighs, lifting lightly in the breeze. 

Even though the wine is disgusting, you drink it anyway. Let it make you dizzy, turning the world softer. It feels good, this little buzz you have. You’ve never been drunk before but it makes you giggle, leaning your head back and closing your eyes as Vernon takes another swig. 

When you open your eyes and look at him, you giggle. 

“What?” he asks, shy. He puts the bottle down. 

“Your mouth and teeth are sooo red.” 

“Yours too.” He laughs, leaning toward you a little. You can’t tell if it’s the drink or his proximity that makes you dizzy. His breath fans your face - you hadn’t realized how close he was. “Your lips are red like berries.” 

“Really?” 

“Mhmm.” His eyes are dark, something flickering in them as they drop to your mouth. “Wonder if they taste like berries too.”

Your breath catches, heart hammering. “Why don’t you find out?” 

Vernon doesn’t even hesitate. He presses his lips to yours, a little forceful and awkward. You don’t care, shocked that he’s kissing you. You don’t know what to do, but you close your eyes, letting Vernon slot his mouth against yours.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you and the press of your mouths, the fountain spraying you with water as the wind changes direction. Then, Vernon tentatively parts your lips, his tongue darting out to swipe across your bottom lip and you soar.

He starts to pull back but you make a sound, shifting forward to really kiss him. You know nothing about kissing, but you remember Lin telling you and the other girls about it. Baby had told you a little bit about what it was like to kiss Soonyoung, so you try to replicate her feedback, gently licking Vernon’s mouth open.

Vernon makes a pitiful sound, leaning into you. Your noses bump and you grow eager, bringing a hand up to his neck, holding him there. His hands cradle your face, his mouth eager and hungry. It’s messy and clumsy and you’re not sure either one of you really knows what you’re doing, but it’s Vernon and it’s everything.

When you break away, panting, Vernon presses his forehead against yours, nose nudging you. “Tastes better than berries.”

“What’s it taste like?” 

His grin is goofy and he can barely get the joke out when he says, “My girlfriend?” 

It’s more like a question but you already have an answer, nodding and whispering, “Your girlfriend.” 

-

“Ah fuck,” Vernon mutters as you walk toward him, his head thudding against the back of the couch. You don’t hear his voice but you can see the look on his face and the shape of the words on his mouth as you storm over, fingers flexing. “I warned you,” you hear Vernon mutter to the girl he’s been pushing off of him the last ten minutes. 

Vernon watches, eyes flashing when you grab the girl by the back of the neck and yank backward. The girl’s head snaps up, her eyes wide when she realizes who is grabbing her. Immediately she drops her hands from Vernon’s arms and tries to lean away from you, but you’ve got her in a death grip, nails digging into her skin. 

She lets out a sound as you stare down on her, feeling your anger throb in the side of your neck alongside your pulse. The buzz of the alcohol burning through you doesn’t help either, turning your wrath sharp like a knife. Somewhere, you hear Jeonghan collecting bets behind you. 

“He told you no,” you growl. You’d watched Vernon several times physically try to get up from the couch and push the girl off but she’d clung to him, ignoring his protests. “And no is a full sentence.” 

“I didn’t know he was yours.” 

Your nails dig in further and her hands fly up to your wrists, trying to break free as she cries. “The point is he told you no. Now apologize.” 

Vernon watches with dull amusement, brows raised as they flicker between you and your victim. He always seems interested in what your nexk move is going to be, happy to go along with whatever your mood brings out, even if it’s violence. 

“I’m sorry,” the girl says to you and you shove her forward. Her head snaps down, teeth clacking painfully. “Not to me, idiot. To him. Apologize to him for violating his personal space and not knowing what consent is.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

Hauling her off the couch is a task. She’s much taller than you, but you’re strong. Seungcheol has started letting you work out with them, and though he still holds a grudge from that time you punched him in the face as kids, he’d rather you be good at fighting than bad at it. 

Instead of fighting, you let the girl go. She hits the floor like a ragdoll, scrambling away from you. Your fingers are sticky with her blood, the underneath of your nails black with it. She stumbles to her feet, hand going to the back of her neck where she must feel the broken skin. 

“Crazy bitch,” she gasps, looking at you. 

You take a single step and she shrieks in fear, running. You want to chase her, but Vernon’s hand is around your wrist and he’s laughing, tugging you toward him on the couch. Collapsing into his lap, you pout at him, stomach fluttering at the way he looks at you - like you’re everything, the only thing. 

It doesn’t matter that you’re only fifteen. You know that you’re in love with Vernon and that he’s in love with you. No amount of threats by your father has swayed Vernon and no amount of never trust a man from your stepmother has convinced you that you cannot trust Vernon implicitly. 

“Very hot of you,” Vernon assures, his hands sliding from your waist to your ass. He grips you through your jeans, uncaring that you’re in the middle of some gritty ass party in the Lower District. If Baby knew you were here, she’d be so mad you didn’t bring her along. “Kiss me.” 

You do. He tastes like gin and lemons, but he smells like fresh rain, all petrichor and vetiver. His mouth is warm and wet against yours, a little clumsy because he’s been drinking, but far more skilled than that awkward kiss you shared the night your father married Minji. 

Vernon groans under you and you laugh, cradling his face with your hands as you separate from him, nipping his lower lip a little. “Take me home,” you whisper, thighs squeezing around his. “Please?” 

He taps your ass. “Let’s fucking go.”

Outside the world is awash in rain. It’s always raining in the city, turning the streets slick. It smells awful in the Lower District, the water flooding the streets and clogging the drain until it smells like wet decay and piss. A group of men shuffle too close for comfort, making Vernon tug you toward him. His eyes are dark beacons as he watches them pass by, either uninterested in the two of you or deciding you’re not easy targets. 

Standing on your tiptoes, you press a messy kiss to Vernon’s jaw. He smirks but his eyes never leave the men until they’re around the corner. Vernon might be quiet and unassuming most of the time, but he’s the son of a Sword, one of the heavies for the Choi Syndicate. Vernon is far more lethal than he looks, and he’s learned how to use it. 

Turning to catch your mouth, Vernon presses a messy kiss to your lips. “Come on,” he mumbles, tugging you toward the motorcycle parked near the front of the apartment complex. “Let’s go.” 

Vernon slides onto the bike, unhooking a helmet and passes it to you. You swing a leg over, getting on the back and pulling the helmet on. Immediately, the face shield swims with color as it turns on, a mini heads up display projected across the glass. 

Underneath you, the bike roars to life. Red lights glow around the rim of the wheels, casting murky light on the sidewalk as Vernon walks the bike backward. You scoot closer to his back, wrapping your arms around the middle to give him a squeeze. One of his hands drops from the handlebars and pats your leg. 

“Good?” His voice comes through the comms in the helmet perfectly clear. 

“Good. You good?”

“Mhmm.” You hear something click against his teeth. “I’ve got a stim pop.” 

The boys love stim pops. Most of them use them when they’re trying to fight a high or being drunk, the mix of sweet candy and methylphenidate serving as a kickstart to the nervous system. All of the workers under the Choi banner use them, especially when pulling late night shifts or just trying to stay awake. Your father even chews them sometimes, popping one in his mouth when he comes home.

You hate the taste, personally. The candies aren’t sweet enough and you can taste the bitter edge of the stimulant as it melts in your mouth. Vernon, however, loves them. He’s always careful not to overuse them, afraid of becoming too reliant on them. With his father’s history, you don’t blame him. 

Resting the side of your helmet on Vernon’s back, you watch as the world turns into a blur of color. You love the feeling of being on a motorcycle, the world around you becoming nothing but wind and blurring shapes. This late at night, Vernon has to maneuver around people as he drives through the entertainment districts, but once he hits the highway you’re gone. 

Wind rips at your clothes. You can see the speed in the corner of your heads up display as Vernon tops out the bike, shooting across the bridge like a bullet. He’s going way above the speed limit but you don’t care, hugging him closer as he navigates through the night.

Even if city police did want to go after him for speeding, they’d never catch him. Seungkwan had refitted the bike with tons of illegal parts and machinery, making it travel at speeds far above regulations. And even if Vernon did get pulled over, he just needed to tell them who he was - the Choi’s were deep in the infrastructure of law enforcement, near impossible to weed out. 

Nights like this with Vernon feel invincible. As children to members of status in the Choi Syndicate, you’re untouchable. Gods. 

Well, perhaps Vernon is. You don’t feel so much as a god as you do a shadowy angel at his side, ready to deliver vengeance tenfold to whoever stands in his way. It’s been like that since the day he pulled you out of the bathtub - before, even, when you’d punched Seungcheol for him. 

Despite being high-ranking in the Choi Syndicate, Vernon’s family doesn’t live in the luxurious accommodations as some of the other upper echelon. He had lived in an actual home like you when you were kids, but last year had moved to a smaller apartment in the Upper District - still better than most of the population of the city, but strange for someone so close to Choi Moojin. 

Sleep is a stranger to the city. Lights burn in the windows of the skyscraper as Vernon pulls into the garage lift. He plants his feet on the ground, a hand dropping to your thigh to squeeze and hold you close as the lift shoots upward. It jolts you a bit and you hug him closer.

“Gonna break my ribs,” he teases. 

“Good. I’m the only one allowed.”

“Anything you want.” 

It makes you smile. You’d never actually hurt him - you’d rather die than inflict any sort of damage on him. Jeonghan has tried to tell you over and over again that you should have a contingency with Vernon, that if he ever breaks your heart-

You shake your head at the thought. Jeonghan trusts no one and neither do you - but Vernon isn’t no one. 

The lights are off in Vernon’s apartment. His mother is nowhere to be found, which isn’t uncommon, and his father blessedly isn’t home. You don’t think Vernon would bring you back if Chwe Jiyeong was home. You don’t have to ask why and Vernon doesn’t have to explain. Like most things between the two of you, you just know. 

Vernon pulls you toward him as he walks backward toward his room. You giggle, your feet tangling and tripping as you go. You chase his lips with yours, pleased when he lets you drown him in an all consuming kiss, your hands pulling him closer by the jacket. 

Tumbling into his room, you knock something over and he laughs. Pressing your hands against his chest, you send him backward onto his bed. His room is dark, save for the light peeking through the tinted windows. This high up in the sky, the clouds blot out the moon. 

Crawling into his lap, you grin down at Vernon. His hands go to your hips, greedy fingers exploring. His eyes shine in the darkness of the room, hungry for you - only you. You are the only thing in the world Vernon ever looks at with a sliver of desire. 

Leaning down, you plant your hands on either side of his head, dropping your mouth to kiss him again when something crashing in the living room startles you both. Vernon is fast - faster than you even knew he could move. He has you up and off of him in a second, planting you on the bed as he heads for his bedroom door. 

You begin to stand but Vernon holds out a hand, stopping you. “Don’t move,” he whispers. “Stay in here, and do not come out of this room. It’s probably my dad.” 

Nodding, you sit back on the bed. You swallow thickly, watching as Vernon places his hand on the knob and stills, turning his head to listen. At first, there’s just eerie silence. Your heart pounds hard enough that you swear he can hear it thundering in your ribcage. 

Someone cusses out in the living room. Vernon dips his head, sighing heavily as he white-knuckles the door handle. You watch the change come over him, a stone dropped in a still pond rippling a calm surface. He’s tense now, the desire for you moments ago stomped out by the sound of his father knocking over something else in the house, followed by the yell of his mother’s name.

Vernon turns back to you, eyes hard. “Stay here. I’ll get him back to his room and I’ll take you home.”

You nod. You know better than to be disappointed. His dad has ruined your night, but getting to ravage Vernon isn’t as important as this. 

Carefully, Vernon opens the door. A shaft of light falls across his face, showing a moment of fear. Then he’s through the door and it’s closed, leaving you alone as your fingers twist nervously in his sheets. 

Straining your hearing, you listen as Vernon’s steps fade down the hall. His soft voice is barely audible through the closed bedroom door. Silence follows for a moment, then you hear his dad, voice raised. The urge to stand up and go to the door is overwhelming but you stay put, knowing it’ll only make things worse.

Jiyeong hates your stepmother, and by extension, you. 

Again, Jihyeong’s voice raises in the living room. You cannot make out what he’s saying, but it's obvious he’s angry. He’s always angry, though. Angry he can’t kick his addiction to frostbyte and resin, angry the Tower didn’t save his home from being taken by the bank, angry he’s in this apartment, angry that Vernon is here and his mother isn’t, angry at the world. 

Growing up, you’d only seen the angry episodes from Vernon’s father once or twice. Seungcheol’s sister had told you about them, though. How when she was little, she’d be woken up to Vernon being brought upstairs to stay the night while Jiyeong was raving mad downstairs, how the Tower and his Sentinel - Soonyoung’s father - would placate him until morning.

No one placates him anymore. Soonyoung’s father is dead and Vernon is fifteen, old enough to deal with his old man by Syndicate standards. 

A crash of sound makes you shoot to your feet. You wring your hands together, staring at the door intensely, wishing you could manifest Vernon to walk back through. Another loud crash followed by a loud shout makes you flinch, your hand flying to the angel charm on your necklace. 

For a few beats, there’s only silence. 

The silence scares you more than the shouting. Before you know what you’re doing, you’re opening the door and rushing down the hall. 

Light spills into the living room from the kitchen. You smell something burning and catch snatches of foils near the stove top where there’s still an open flame. For a second, you think the apartment is empty, but you hear a grunt and something smack against the cabinets. 

Rounding the counter top, you scream, reaching for Jiyeong where he sits on top of Vernon, whose feet are sliding against the title as he kicks, hands wrapped around his father’s wrists. Jiyeong’s hands are wrapped around Vernon’s throat, thumbs pressing dangerously into his windpipe.

You don’t even think. You lunge forward, grabbing at Jiyeong to pull him off of his son. He thrashes to the side, throwing you into the counter. Pain explodes in your hip but you don’t care, diving back at Jiyeong to pull him off of Vernon. You succeed in loosening his grip and Vernon gasps for air, his face red and strained as he coughs, spittle flying.

The moment of respite is costly - his dad shoves you back hard, sending you stumbling and falling on your ass. It hurts when you land, a pile of limbs and panic and disorientation. It doesn’t matter. You scramble to your feet again, the world tilting as your panic consumes you. 

Jumping on Vernon’s father, you try to pull him off. He’s insanely strong, arms corded and honed to killing perfection, the perfect Sword of a powerful Syndicate. Vernon doesn’t try to fight back - he just pries at his father’s hands, the death grip so strong that he knows it’s his best chance at survival. 

Your nails rend down Jiyeong’s face, you pull at his hair, at his head. It doesn’t matter. He is feral and intent on a single thing, and that’s choking the life out of the person you love most in the world - even more than you love your father, your god, your savior. 

A set of knives catches your attention on the counter. Without second guessing, you grab one, knocking the block over with your haste. Your hand shakes on the handle and you scream when you bring it down on the juncture between Jiyeong’s neck and shoulder. 

He doesn’t stop choking Vernon. Filled with rage and terror, you shriek, gripping the handle as blood spills onto your hand. You rip the blade out and drive it down again and again, ignoring the way blood spurts, covering your face and arm. 

Jiyeong finally lets go of Vernon, who starts coughing as he sucks down air. He twists under his father, kicking away to roll over on his stomach and crawl away. He gets a few feet away, where he stops to vomit. 

You stop screaming. Vernon chokes, spit flying from his mouth as he hacks, trying to get his windpipe to work again. Jiyeong remains on his knees for a second and you realize he’s also choking. His hands are covering the stab wound in his neck, red spelling between his fingers and running down his arms. 

Then, he falls forward. 

Shaking, you remain standing where you are, hand trembling violently, knife in your hand. It is covered in red now, nearly indistinguishable. Heaving, Vernon manages to sit on the floor, sliding further away from his father to press himself against the fridge. His throat is already red and bruising. 

Vernon’s eyes go from his father, motionless on the floor and in a pool of blood to you. Then back to his father. Then you again, where his gaze stays. You don’t know what to do. All you know is that you’d thought he was going to die and that you had to do something about it. You didn’t- 

“I didn’t mean-”

Vernon shakes his head and holds out his hand to you. He says nothing - can’t say anything with his throat - but his hand is outstretched toward you and violently shaking. He’s asking - begging - you to come to him. 

You drop the knife and it clatters, loud in the eerily silent apartment. You rush to him, stepping over the body, foot sliding in blood. You careen forward, collapsing to your knees. Pain shoots up your legs but you don’t care, crawling to Vernon, hands slippery against the tile until you’re there and you’re holding his hand and he’s pulling you to his chest. 

Vernon is quivering, his entire body vibrating as you press against him. His arms squeeze you tight and he turns both of you away from the mess at the mouth of the kitchen, shielding you from it. 

Your hands are on his face, smearing blood and red finger prints across his perfect skin as you inspect him. He shakes his head, as though to say he’s fine. But he’s not fine. His throat is bruised and you don’t know how much damage his dad did and he just watched you plunge a knife into his father over and over again. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-”

Vernon kisses you. It’s brief and quick, but it stops you from spiralling. He shakes his head again, squeezing you harder. Instead of fighting him, you melt into him. Bury your face in his neck. Cry. Cry like you haven’t since your mother tried to purge this world of your existence. Cry because for a moment, you thought he was gone. 

Minutes pass. Maybe hours. When Vernon stops shaking, you finally pull yourself from his neck turning to look at the body. The blood has stopped pooling around it. It’s dark - darker than you remember. Perhaps because it’s drying. Going cold. 

Wiping your nose, you look at Vernon. He’s expressionless, eyes wide. “I have to call Minji,” you rasp. “She’ll know what to do.” You nod to yourself, pressing the back of your bloodied hand to your mouth. “Yeah, she’ll know what to do.” 

-

Turns out that Yoon Minji does always know what to do. You sit at her boudoir, back facing the mirror. You don’t feel like facing the mirror right now. You know that your dark under eyes and hollowed out expression will just stare back at you. 

Minji comes in with a steaming cup of tea, closing the door gently behind her. She is more poised and regal than you’ll ever be, but you like that about her. She reminds you of the knife that Jeonghan gave you when you became step-siblings: a beautiful, mother of pearl handle with a blade so sharp you could cut paper. 

You see that in your stepmother as she hands you the mug of tea. You cup it carefully in your hands, palms leeching the warmth from the cup. It smells like honey and chamomile, perhaps with a hint of yarrow. She’d recently started teaching you the names of herbs and how to smell them out, as well as their properties. 

Vernon would like her lessons, you think. 

Vernon. 

As always, he consumes your thoughts. He is, afterall, the reason why you’re barely able to sleep. Though you’re able to spend all day with him while he recovers from a crushed windpipe and a broken collarbone, you have to let him rest at night, which means him being alone.

You hate it. You know he’s in the careful care of the Choi family’s personal doctor, and Dr. Ymir is wonderful. But you hate being separated from him, and despite screaming and yowling like a feral cat, the Tower had been adamant that you were separated for his recovery.

Vernon hated it too. Nearly set himself back by damaging his throat to scream that he wanted you with him. The Tower had finally compromised and agreed that you could spend all day there if you left for a minimum of eight hours at night to sleep. 

Minji sits on the edge of her bed. She smoothes her silk shirt down and crosses one knee over the other. She’s dressed professionally in a beautiful, pearl colored shirt tucked into black cigarette pants, with pearls in her ears and on her fingers, hair tucked neatly in a bun behind her head. 

She is worlds more beautiful than your own mother, but perhaps your opinion of your birth mother is a little skewed. 

“Drink,” Minji urges, gesturing to the cup. “I’ll help you sleep. If you still can’t sleep, send for me. I’ll get you something stronger.”

Nodding, you sip the tea. Warmth unfolds in your mouth and you do feel yourself relax a little. Your hackles have been raised since leaving Vernon an hour ago, and already you’re looking at the clock to see how long until you can go back.

She notices and laughs. Not meanly, but tiredly, followed by a sigh. “What are we going to do with the two of you?” 

“Nothing,” you mutter into a cup. “We were defending ourselves.”

She waves a hand. “Not about that. Chwe Jiyeong is a motherfucker. The fact that he would dare hurt that child is-” She cuts herself off with an angry sound. “No one will miss him.”

“The Tower will.”

Her mouth thins. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.” 

Silence stretches between the two of you. You sip your tea, watching her while she watches you. Her eyes don’t miss a thing. As the Wisdom of the Choi Syndicate, it’s her job to be the second-in-command. The know-it-all. The intelligence. 

Minji must be grand indeed. Most women in the Syndicate didn’t have roles like that. The Kim and Yong Syndicates only had men in executive roles. It was mostly the same under the Choi banner, but Minji was different. The Fox, some called her. 

“Do you know why Chwe Jiyeong tried to murder his son, Angel?” Her question catches you off guard. You hesitate, sipping your tea as you think about how to answer her. She notices, her mouth twitching. “Ah. You do.” 

Of course she can see the deliberation in your eyes. Instead of arguing, you ask, “Does it matter that I know?” 

“Not really. I’m more interested in how you know. Did the boy tell you?” 

“No.”

“Pray tell, then.”

“When we were kids, we all got into a fight.” 

She smiles. “I recall. You were very disruptive.”

“It started because Seungcheol was being mean to Vernon. I told him that he shouldn’t be mean because Vernon did nothing wrong, but he called Vernon a bastard and said Vernon had done wrong by being born.”

“I see.”

“Wouldn’t have meant much to me as a kid, but Vernon had mentioned that Seungcheol and Seungcheol’s mom specifically didn’t like him much. As we got older, I wondered why out of all the kids that have family members who work for the Tower, why Vernon was given a space at the Choi Estate.”

Her eyes are glittering now, smile spreading. “And?” 

“Soonyoung was given a room because his parents are dead.” You sip your tea. “His dad was the Tower’s closest friend. Vernon’s dad wasn’t though. He had a drug problem and was constantly disappointing the Tower.”

“So why give Vernon a place to stay, then?”

“Because he’s not Jiyeong’s son. He’s the Tower’s.”

When Minji smiles, you see Jeonghan in her. Jeonghan looks so much like his mother that sometimes it makes you do a double take. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree in the Yoon family, and it doesn’t just stop at looks. Jeonghan is the perfect clone of his mother in face, but particularly in mind. 

Which is why you wonder what her motive is when she says, “You’re very bright, you know.” 

It wasn’t a question but you answer anyway. “Yes.”

“Most fifteen year olds would have been very afraid to kill someone.”

“I was afraid. Just not more afraid of him than I was Vernon was going to die.”

“Good.” She stands, unfolding like a lotus flower blooming. “I’d like to put that mind of yours to use, Angel. Clever girls like you are important. Valuable. Mean something.” She pauses and smiles. “I think Vernon might be good for the job, too.” 

-

Nerves twist your stomach into knots. You wind your fingers in your shirt, following Vernon out of the main house and onto the grounds of the Choi Estate. The bruising on his throat is long gone, but Vernon���s voice has only just started returning. 

Not that you’ve heard it, at all. His vocal recovery is reserved strictly for the hours spent with his medical team, going through exercises as he slowly makes progress toward speaking fully again. Thankfully he’s expected to make a full recovery. You remind yourself to ask Minji to give Dr. Ymir a hefty bonus for helping Vernon, especially with how fast his return to health has been. 

You are dying to hear his voice. Weeks spent writing notes and curating ways to communicate has lost its novelty, and now you just want to hear him again. You miss his voice more than you’ve missed anything else, and you’re starting to worry that you might forget the sound of it. The pitch. The raspiness. 

No.

His voice haunts you in your dreams, brushing along your skin like velvet, coaxing you into a restful sleep. Other times, it twists your nightmares, his scream cut off by the sound of his choking as his father chokes him, face turning blue.

The nightmares only happen when you sleep without him. Now that he’s back to functioning health, you’re allowed to spend however long you want with him - in theory, anyway. Though the adults keep muttering about how improper it is for two teenagers to be having sleepovers, it’s easier to let you have your way than to try and pull you apart. 

Everyone remembers Vernon screaming the last time they’d done that. 

Plus, there’s no way that the Tower hasn’t noticed Soonyoung occasionally slipping into Baby’s room after waking up from nightmares. Vernon shares a wall with him now, and sometimes Soonyoung’s sharp shouting stirs you from sleep before you hear the soft click of his door and his footsteps fade toward the youngest Choi’s room. 

No one says anything, though. It’s like the Tower had told the group of you years ago: you’re bound together for life. 

That is certainly true enough for Soonyoung and Seungcheol’s sister, who covet one another like greedy little magpies hoarding treasure. Seungcheol covets no one and nothing, but he’s grown out of the sulky, mean teenager phase and remains a bulwark for the rest of you - especially between you and the adults. 

The first hint of autumn air kisses the back of your neck. Vernon’s fingers are linked with yours, leading you toward the gazebo near the retention pond at the south end of the estate. You both pause as you near the small turtle pond, both of you crouching down to say hello.

They swarm to the edge of the pool, stretching their necks up to greet Vernon who smiles brightly, gently petting each and every one of their heads. You recognize Blush when you see her, much larger in size but just as beautiful with her rouge ears and beady eyes. 

Giggling, you hold your hand out to her, letting her come up to gently nip at your finger. When she decides you have no snacks for her, she ducks under the water, little legs kicking as she vanishes into the murky bottom. 

Satisfied, Vernon stands up and offers you his hand again. You take it, smiling. It occurs to you how genuinely happy you are. It’s one of the few days you have off between school, meetings with Minji, and combat classes led by Old Man Vero and Seungcheol. 

The memory of Seungcheol putting you on your ass the first day sours your mood a little. He’d told you it was for that punch all those years ago, and you didn’t blame him. Now, there’s no bad blood between the two of you. As the future Tower, he takes your self defense seriously. 

You’re also the only one of your group of five who has murdered a fully grown man. 

It’s not something to brag about. There are other teenagers your age in the organization who have killed. Most of them are less fortunate - their parents aren’t high up the rung in the Syndicate or they’ve fallen from grace. Some of the others don’t have parents and are in the Syndicate to survive. 

Death isn’t something you want to think about while with Vernon though, so you shove it away as he walks up the steps of the gazebo. Wisteria trees surround the building, the purple leaves draping the railings and stretching through some of the windows. A few yards away, the pond ripples as a family of ducks swims across. 

Vernon sits on the bench, tilting his face upward into a ray of sun. You sit close next to him, pivoting so you can face him directly, eyes scanning his face as he closes his eyes to enjoy the warmth. 

A smile tugs at your lips. Your entwined hands rest in his lap, his tumb absently rubbing back and forth across the top of your hand. He is so beautiful. He’s regained some of this tan back now that he’s somewhere he can go outside and enjoy the sun. His freckles are a little darker for it, skin a little more flushed and glowing.

Glinting gold catches your eyes. You smile when you see the gold chain peeking from the collar of his shirt. You know the angel that you used to wear is tucked under his shirt, a new talisman for protection. You’d given it to him the night you’d saved him from his father, clasping the chain around his neck with bloody, shaky hands and promising that it would bring him protection. 

You reach out toward Vernon with the hand not holding his, fingers brushing the top of his cheek bones. He doesn’t open his eyes but he grins and turns toward you, letting your fingers trace his nose, the shape of his brows, his lips. Your fingers stop at his mouth, pinching his lips together in a pout lightly. 

He chuckles but doesn’t laugh - not really. You wish he was able to, aching to hear his voice again. 

Vernon’s eyes flutter open. The sun hits him just right, turning his brown irises into molten gold. Your heart beats a little faster as you lean on your palm, watching him. He has the most incredibly eyes, turning from brown to burnished gold in the right light, and-

He interrupts your thoughts and says your name. You blink once. Twice. Not Angel. Not any other nickname. Your name. In his raspy, but deep voice, that is soft as velvet and oh oh oh. 

“You-” Your voice catches. “You shouldn’t talk unless you’re able.” 

He says your voice again and your hands squeeze his, turning into a vice grip. “I’ve been practicing,” he whispers, and you lean forward, not wanting to miss a word. “I can start talking again. Just wanted you to hear me before anyone else.” 

“Are you sure?” 

He nods. “I promise.” He pauses. “Are you going to cry?”

“No.” 

He laughs - actually laughs - when you turn your face away from him to look at the pond, eyes flowing with tears. He pulls you close to him, leaning into your space. He smells like rain and earth, petrichor and vetiver. Vernon says your name again and you look at him, heart hammering. 

“Vernon,” you whisper back, like an answer to the way he says your name. 

He shakes his head and you frown, questioning. “Hansol.” 

Only my mom gets to call me Hansol and it’s ‘cause I love her. 

Now you are definitely crying. It makes him laugh because he knows you hate crying, but he is the only person in the world who can move you to tears. He’s the only person allowed. 

“Hansol,” you murmur. 

His smile lights up the entire world. 

-

“Hansol!” You screech, tripping over the shoes he left by the door. You kick the boots, sending them flying into the entryway. “You motherfucker, stop leaving your shoes in front of the fucking door!” 

No one answers your complaints. Huffing, you toe off your boots, slick with rain. They’re heavy and caked in mud, messing up the rug at the front of the door. Instead of leaving your shoes where anyone walking in can trip over them, you pick them up and put them on the shoe rack like a decent human being. 

Simmering, you walk into the house proper. The lights are off but there’s a vetiver candle on the counter in the kitchen, filling the house with a scent that smells exactly like Hansol. It lessens your stormy mood a bit as you get to the stairs, climbing them two at a time to get to the second floor faster.

One of the smaller guest houses on the Choi Estate has been taken over by you and Hansol entirely. There are only two bedrooms on the second floor, but that’s all you need. A single room for the two of you to share, and one room for the egregious amount of weapons and paraphernalia to do your jobs. 

The paraphernalia room - or the Pew Pew Place, as Mingyu calls it - is heavily locked with a bioscanner and a digital padlock. You pass it as you walk toward the tiny, spiral staircase in the corner of the hall. You climb it, careful not to tip over the hand railing that is far too low, ducking into an attic turned greenhouse of sorts. 

It’s really Hansol’s rain room. There are some plants hanging from the ceiling, their waxy green leaves spilling over the sides and thriving in the sunlight when it pours through the glass ceiling. Now, the ceiling is misty and awash with rain as it taps on the glass. 

A record player stands against one of the walls, a massive shelf of nothing but records expanding to the side of it. There’s also a small coffee cart and sitting area for when Seungkwan or Mingyu want to come over. 

The object of your ire - and now affection - is lounging on the green chaise by the window, hands behind his head as he stares up at the water sluicing down the roof, his headphones on and making him unaware of you standing in the entryway. 

Sighing, your anger immediately melts. Instead of yelling at him for the shoes, you walk toward him, feeling the exhaustion wear you down. Anger and exhaustion are the only two things you seem to feel lately. Even your love for Hansol sometimes seems blotted out by the size of your anger, which has turned into an ancient creature that you’re unsure how to control. 

For now, you will it away - beg it to leave. It’s easier to do when you’re sinking into Hansol’s lap, startling him from his reverie. You smile as you lean down, laying on his chest. He wraps one arm around you while the other pulls off his headphones, the music pausing as he does. 

Hansol is warm and smells like the rain he’s watching - soothing, making you forget about everything for just a second. Underneath your cheek, you feel the steady rhythm of his heart, one of your favorite sounds. 

Instead of saying anything, you both just lie there, you on top of him while he holds you, content to run his hands absently up and down your back. It’s nice. Moments like this lately are few and far between, the world spinning so fast that it’s hard to stop and take a second to just hold him. 

As if it can sense your moment of peace, Hansol’s phone starts to ring. You hiss and he groans. You want him to ignore it. He wants to ignore it. But you know that ringtone anywhere, and despite wanting to keep this moment for longer than five minutes, Hansol reaches into his pocket to answer Seungcheol’s phone call.

“Yes, Tower?” 

You bury your face in Hansol’s chest, which vibrates when he speaks. “Got it. Yeah.” He sighs, running a hand down his face. “Alright.”

He hangs up the phone. “Tell him no.” 

“You tell him no. He’s actually afraid of you.”

“Seungcheol isn’t afraid of anyone.”

Well. That isn’t explicitly true. You wouldn’t say that Seungcheol is afraid of you, but he’s certainly wary. Wary in the way someone might be a bomb that is under their roof. Wary in the way someone’s exotic pet has started to corrode under animal instinct. Wary in the way one might be when one of their prime killers recently lost the only person she ever really considered a mother, setting her on a warpath. 

Your jaw works. Yoon Minji had been the last connection you’d had to your father. Somehow, losing her has felt worse.

It wasn’t like your father, who had finally withered away from cancer. Minji had been picture-perfect health, if not a little old and weary from running the Syndicate while Choi Moojin withered away to sickness after his wife’s passing. Minji was built of different stuff. Strong in the face of death. A force to be reckoned with as her friends aged out of life without her, leaving her to be the steadfast Wisdom manning the helm.

Then the Kim and Yong Syndicates had struck like snakes in the night, a move only cowards were capable of. The only reason the Choi Syndicate hadn’t fallen to the treachery of the Kim’s entirely was because of the Tower’s daughter. Her forced marriage to Kim Yujin had ultimately been the Choice Syndicate's saving grace, her call coming only two hours prior to the coordinated attack, a warning that an overthrow was in process. 

It had been enough time for most people. 

It hadn’t been enough time for you or Jeonghan to get to Minji. Not enough time to figure out why they knew where she was or how to get her. Now, you were both trying to stay adrift in the aftermath of losing your shared anchor - Jeonghan worse than you but you… worse than you expected. 

“You okay?” Hansol’s voice brings you back to the present. Only Hansol is able to drag you out of those churning waters where your eldritch anger lurks, waiting. Watching. Hungry. “I gotta go soon but if you’re not good-”

“I’m good.” Lie. “I’m just sleepy.”

“Cheol is working us to death.”

Except it isn’t the Tower working you to death. The Tower isn’t putting you to work at all. He is actually staunchly avoiding you, letting the Wisdom of the Choi Syndicate wield you like a weapon of vengeance instead. 

Yoon Jeonghan takes aim at his enemies often these days. 

Vengeance. That is what your stepbrother had called it when he started gathering his list of soon-to-be-dead in his office. Vengeance for his mother’s murder, vengeance for trying to take out the Choi Syndicate, vengeance for anyone who had anything to do with any of it. 

It isn’t traditionally the Wisdom’s job to dole out punishment and retribution, but Jeonghan is still actively looking for how the Kim family discovered the Yoon family safehouse, something that could have only come from inside. 

Which means the Kim family have a Watcher inside the Choi Syndicate, someone with access to the inner circle. Someone you trust someone you know, someone who- 

Anger begins to twist your insides again. Hansol sees the change in you, his eyebrows creasing as he looks down at where you lay on his chest. Instead of looking at him directly, you press your cheek to his chest and close your eyes, listening to his heartbeat, trying to let it ground you. 

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

No. “Yes.” 

You don’t dare look at him because you think Hansol sees right through you. You’ve never hidden anything from him, and you don’t quite know why you do now. Why you pretend that you’re not eroding inside, why you hide the ancient anger that becomes so raw that you can’t stand it. 

Shame. 

Shame that you cannot get rid of this feeling inside of you. Shame that you’ve never felt like this. Shame that you don’t know how to tell him what you’re feeling how to articulate that you feel wrath so intense that it makes you suffocate, makes you see red, makes you-

“I gotta go,” Hansol says softly. You cling to him a little tighter reflexively. His laugh vibrates through you, followed by a heavy sigh. “We’ll be okay, right?” That makes you look up at him sharply. His face is serious, eyes dark. “We’ve been through shit before. This stuff with the Syndicate war - we’ll be fine?” 

“Of course we will.” 

It feels like a lie.

Carefully, he extracts you from him. You don’t want to let him go - you never do. But you peel yourself from him anyway, trailing after him as he goes down to the second flood of the house into your padlocked room. You can’t bring yourself to part from him yet, silently handing him a gun over the counter and running your hands along the inseams of his jacket to make sure he has what he needs.

It’s a bit of a ritual. Usually, you’d be doing it together. As Rooks of the Choi Syndicate, you and Hansol have unique jobs. Collecting debts, reminding people of their debts, and applying pressure are the main responsibilities of your positions. 

Applying pressure is a gentle way to put it. You find what makes people weak, and then you hurt it until they’re begging you to stop. You salt their wounds, you kick them when they’re down, you make good on their promises. It’s work that requires an inability to feel guilt and a willingness to go however far the Tower needs you to go. 

You and Hansol are good at that. Minji had trained you to be good at that, becoming two of the best assets for the Syndicate - especially now that it was a time of Syndicate war where the Chois were facing down the Kim and Yong families simultaneously. Now was the time to apply pressure and to ensure that everyone who had promised to be loyal to the Choi Syndicate was keeping their promises - especially now that Seungcheol had stepped into his father’s role. 

Syndicate war makes people unsettled. It’s a time of uncertainty, especially among the city officials and law enforcement trying to assert control over the Syndicate families. While the Syndicates hold no political power in the city, they have wealth, assets and connections, making them very competent and powerful puppeteers. 

Ensuring that those who threw in their bets with the Choi family still intended to do so is paramount. As is eliminating anyone who so much as thinks about switching sides, undermining the Tower, or trying to leverage the conflict for their gain. 

Hansol stops at the doorway to kiss you goodbye before he leaves. It’s soft and lingering, like he would rather be raked over hot coals than go do whatever errand Seungcheol is sending him on. You don’t blame him. There aren’t that many people in the family that do what the two of you do, and Hansol is the Rook that Seungcheol trusts the most, his brother by bond - and by blood, though most didn’t know that. 

“Will you be home tonight?” Hansol mutters the question against your lips, unwilling to part from you just yet. He tastes like vanilla chapstick, lips soft and supple. You shake your head and he sighs. “Alright. Let me know when you leave here.”

“Yeah.” 

He kisses you again and steps away. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

When the door shuts behind Hansol and you’re left to your own devices, the wrath begins to stir again. 

-

Sickly sweet incense hangs in the air as you near the lounge. A beaded curtain separates the main hall from the lounge beyond, parting with a soft, clicking hiss as you slide through the strands. The cloying scent of incense is far more intense in the room, accompanied by the smell of something sweet burning. 

Pink, velvet couches crowd around a small table. On the table is a smattering of bottles, a pipe with half burn resin in it, a spilled bag of frosbyte, and a handful of cash. Your boots stain the carpet with mud as you tread to one of the couches, throwing yourself across one as you wait. 

“Be with you in a minute,” a soft, feminine voice comes from beyond another beaded curtain. 

While you wait, you look around the room. There’s a small personal bar shoved in the corner with miscellaneous brands of liquor. In a room as cheap as this one, there are no holograms or high-tech lights to entrance patrons - just a shitty disco ball that barely refracts the light with some music skipping as the internet goes in and out over the speakers. 

At the soft clack of the beaded curtains opening, you drop your gaze to the back of the room where the room’s renter comes through. At first, she enters the room with a coy smile, the silk robe falling off of her shoulder to show milky white skin. 

The second she sees you, she tries to turn on her heel and go back to the room. 

“Leaving so soon, Rosalind?” 

Rosalind stops her retreat immediately. Like the perfectly practiced entertainer she is, she spins and fixes you with a plastic smile. You’re no whore, but you know a whore’s smile when you see one. She approaches you with a lazy gait, appearing at ease, but when she sits, it's a hairsbreadth too far away and there is a slight pinch in her shoulders.

“Nonsense,” she assures you, dropping the soft affectation in her voice to her heavily accented, naturally voice. “I just didn’t wanna wear this fuckin’ wig if its just you.”

Lie. 

“You know I love the black hair,” you agree. She has on a silvery wig now, giving her the illusion she’s some sort of moon deity. There’s a shimmer to her skin that makes her ethereal in the right light, but with the shitty disco ball, it looks tawdry. “How’ve you been?”

“Business is slow. You Syndicate-types have everyone up in arms.” Leaning forward, she gestures to the abandoned pipe on the table. “You mind?”

“By all means.” 

You watch her as she picks up the pipe. Her hands shake a little, either from the shitty resin she keeps smoking or from the anxiety of seeing you sitting in her lounge. It could be either, it could be both. She lights the end of the pipe and inhales, coughing brutally for a second, the wet sound of her lungs a result of smoking low grade shit. 

After a few more tugs and another coughing fit where her eyes water, she puts the resin down, leaning back to spread her arms along the back of the couch. “What can I do for you, Angel girl?”

“Nothing. Just checking in on you.” 

“Oh?” 

“You’re not officially under the banner of the Choi Syndicate and I’m fine with that. But you’ve helped me in the past - I like to ensure that those who help me stay protected.” 

Her mouth twitches upward. “Are you getting sweet on me?”

“I’m always sweet on you.” Your gaze sweeps the room. “If you did want to be under the Choi banner, I could give you better accommodations, you know.”

“I don’t like to be controlled by the Syndicates.”

“So you’ve always said.”

Leaning your head against the back of the couch, you sigh. Looking up at the ceiling, your eyes trace the water and smoke stains. This room really is a piece of shit, but it’s belonged to Rosalind since before you were an official Rook under Choi Moojin, and then Choi Seungcheol. 

There used to be a sort of charm to the room. You always thought it looked like one of those cheap collages that Baby put together in her mood boards with white lace, red velvet, plasticky hearts and quotes from all of the romance movies that she liked. It had always felt nostalgic. 

Now you see it for what it really is - desperate to be something it's not. 

Your fingers drum on the couch. “You’ve always admired your independence,” you eventually say. Rosalind watches you, finally at ease. “I admire that about you. I didn’t have much independence growing up.”

“I don’t think most Choi’s do.”

“I’m not a Choi.” 

“You’re practically married to one.” You cut your eyes over to Rosalind and she grins. “Yeah, I know about the boy.” 

“Of course you do. You know a lot of shit.”

“That's why you’re so sweet on me.”

“Yeah.” You laugh airly. “It is.” 

Silence stretches between the two of you. From down the hall, you can hear the heavy grunt of a man fucking into something. In a proper brothel, you’d never have to hear the sounds of anyone else fucking - unless that thing was specifically requested. 

“When did you tell the Kims where Minji’s safehouse was?” You ask, turning to fix your gaze on Rosalind. Her smile drops. “Since I’m so sweet on you I thought you’d be willing to tell me” 

“I don’t know where Yoon Minji’s safe house is. I didn’t like the bitch but I’ve never sold her out.” 

“Hm.”

You look back up at the ceiling, feeling eerily like you’re at a therapist appointment. You’d started going as a bit of a joke with Jeonghan, wondering what would happen if you told her snatches of your life. You leave out the murder, of course, but you’re pretty sure she knows. 

The thing your therapist is most interested in is your relationship with Hansol, asserting that you’re codependent. You’re not entirely interested in what it means or that it’s bad. Of course you’re codependent on Hansol - there is no one else in the world you want or would rather trust. 

And yet you’re here, on a rampage that he is unaware of. 

 “You know, Rosalind,” You say airly. “I would believe you except… I have a really good instinct for this shit. It’s what makes me good at my job, and it’s why you always respected me.” 

For a second, she doesn’t answer. Then, she changes her tone of voice, earnest. “I would never sell out Yoon Minji, Angel. I don’t want the Chois as an enemy.” 

“There it is again.” You sit up and point at her. “Do you know that when you lie, you take a tiny little breath right before? Like someone might do right before they jump from a cliff.”

“I’m not lyin-”

“Lie again and I will cut off a fucking finger like that bitch Yoon Minji taught me.” 

“Angel,” she begs, sliding off the couch to her knees. Her hands are rubbing on her thighs, shaking her head when she looks at you. “I’m telling you, I swear on my life.”

You stare at one another. Sweat gathers on Rosalind’s brow. The synthetic strands of her wig stick to her forehead. Her eyeshadow is smudged, her lipstick not done right, a little bit overlined. You see the glue holding the fake lashes to her waterline, the separation of the body glitter on her skin as she starts to sweat. 

Clapping your hands on your thighs and standing, you announce, “I believe you.” 

She nearly collapses with relief. “Really?”

“No, but it was funny to see how relieved you are. Soonyoung!” 

A series of crashes echoes from the hall. The wall vibrates as someone gets knocked into it, followed by heavy footsteps. Soonyoung comes crashing through the beaded curtain, dragging a young woman by the hair after him. The tape over her mouth keeps most of the screams to muffled grunts as she twists in his hands, her nails wrapped around his wrist where she tries to get him to let go. 

Rosalind lets out a sound like a wounded animal but she doesn’t dare move. Soonyoung throws the girl to your feet, sending her tumbling into the coffee table. Things fly off the surface, crashing into the already stained carpet. 

Whimpering, the girl crawls away from you toward where Rosalind is kneeling, staring at her with an open mouth and tear-lined eyes. Before the woman can make it far, Soonyoung steps on her fingers, making her wail and thrash.

“Stop!” Rosalind screams, spittal flying. “Stop!”

“This is who the Kims offered to protect, right?” You ask Rosalind as Soonyoung applies more pressure to the woman’s fingers. She goes rigid with tension as the pain wracks her. “This is your daughter? Got into a nice ass school two weeks ago - a boarding school, even. All the way across the world.”

“Please,” Rosalind begs. “Please.”

“I thought to myself, Rosalind has had all this time to ask me to protect her kid. Never once asked the Chois to do it. And then suddenly she’s accepted into something you can’t afford so very far away… and I wondered. Who is this woman’s dad?” 

“Angel, please.” 

“No daddy on the birth certificate but… she looks so much like Kim Minchan’s niece. They have such pretty eyes in that family.” 

Rosalind is openly weeping now, the sobs wracking her body. You stare at her and feel the ancient anger inside of you curl in pleasure, teeth clicking as you get ready to strike. The violent ocean that has manifested as your wrath is ready now, waters churning, waiting, hungry. 

Slowly, you crouch down to Rosalind’s level, staring at her across the coffee table. “Who fucking told you where Yoon Minji’s safehouse was, Rosalind?” 

She shakes her head. You look up at Soonyoung, who looks like the devil with his white-blonde hair and beady, black eyes. He leans on his foot, crushing the girl’s fingers under the toe of his boot. She screams, thrashing again. Surely they’re broken by now. 

“Stop!” 

“Tell me,” you coo, nodding sympathetically. “Tell me, Rosalind. Or I’m going to kill her in front of you. Alright? Tell me.” 

Rosalind nods. Her makeup streams in black, inky tendrils down her face. She struggles to suck in a breath, coughing through her resin-ruined lungs. You watch with predatory stillness as she manages to suck in a breath, nodding to herself again. 

“Jung Lan.”

You frown. “Jung Lan is dead. He was murdered protecting Choi Moojin.”

She shakes her head. “The son. Junior.” 

Sucking in a breath, you look up at Soonyoung. His eyes are storming, the churning waters of his violence the same as the thrashing anger inside of you. It is, perhaps, the only time you’ve ever related to Kwon Soonyoung. He glances back to Rosalind, eyes narrowed. 

“Tell me what he told you.” 

“He didn’t tell me with the purpose of giving it to the Kims. Just ran his mouth while he was here. Said his old man deserved the house she was given, not Minji. Said it was in Cascade. That’s it. I swear that’s it. Please.”

You nod at Soonyoung and he lifts his foot from the young woman’s hand. Her fingers are crushed and bent at odd angles, bruised under the heavy weight of his foot. He looks at you and you give him a curt nod. Expressionless, he pivots and marches from the room, vanishing with a snap of beaded curtains.

Rosalind sags in relief, collapsing inward on herself as she sobs. Her daughter starts to crawl to her and you let her, watching the way she folds herself into her mother’s lap. The way you might fold into Minji’s lap, in another life. 

In that life, where you were born to her, maybe, instead of the woman who gave birth to you. In another life where you and Jeonghan still had a fierce figure to lead you through the trenches of this fucked up mess. In another life where she wasn’t dead and you could lay your head in her lap to let her comb your hair. 

It doesn’t exist - never existed. Even alive, you don’t think that was in your future for you and your stepmother. But she had made you tea and comforted you, had taught you how to weaponize what little skills you had, turned you into something that could protect Hansol no matter the cost. 

“Thank you,” Rosalind whispers, crushing her daughter to her. 

“For what?”

“For sparing her.”

When the first electric pulse of a gun being fired and screams come from down the hall, Rosalind looks at you, wide eyed. You grin, the rage taking shape on your face. “I didn’t.” 

-

It’s dark when you get home. The clock floating above the holoscreen stand says it’s just past four in the morning, which is earlier than you thought you would get home. Every part of you is tired and dragging, each step weighed down more than the last.

Dissatisfaction follows you, haunting your every step. You feel the weight of its presence as you try to run away from it to the second floor, shoving it away. You feel no better after ridding the world from the woman who’d traded secrets, along with the entire establishment. 

You don’t feel guilty. You’d done it eagerly and with Soonyoung’s help. They had deserved it, not only for betraying the Choi Syndicate, but for having the nerve to pretend to be neutral for all of these years, benefiting from servicing all three of the city’s main syndicates. 

The problem with neutrality, though, is there’s no one to save you when death is on your doorstep. 

None of it makes you feel better, though. You don’t feel justified. You don’t feel like you did a good job. It doesn’t feel like a box that has been checkmarked. Your anger asks for more, wants more, needs more. 

Hansol is asleep in bed when you come in. He doesn’t stir, too heavily knocked out to sense you. Here in your home in the heart of the Choi Estate, there’s no reason to sleep light for fear of intruders. Here, in his home with you, he can be completely at ease.

You stare at him as you change into a sleep shirt, leaving nothing else on. He looks at peace, face completely relieved of the stress of his evening or the constant frown he’s started to wear around you. Hansol looks like his younger self when he sleeps, face swollen where it’s smushed against the pillow, mouth parted as he snores a bit. 

When you crawl into bed, he stirs. He blinks those round, gentle eyes at you, immediately recognizing your home. His hands seek you, stretching across silky sheets to grab you by the hips and pull you close, needing your warmth. He smells like vetiver and petrichor, immediately soothing the unsettled feeling nipping at your heels. 

It isn’t enough.

As Hansol’s eyes drift shut, planning to go back to sleep now that you’re here, you lean forward and press your mouth to his. You feel the question in the curve of his mouth for only a second before he relents and kisses you back, lips tired and slow, a little lazy. 

You tangle your legs with his, hooking your knee behind his to pull him flush to you. He grunts, but goes with the flow, his hand sliding up your thigh to rest on your hip, fingers tentative. You want more of him, need more of him. You want to drown in him until this - this whatever it is eats you alive and leaves nothing less. 

Hansol senses your need because of course he does. He knows you better than anyone else in the world, and when your mouth turns desperate, he understands. Instead of asking questions, Hansol comes alive, rising up from sleep to lean over you and push you down into the mattress. 

A soft sound leaves your mouth and he drinks it down, gentle mouth turning into bruising hunger. 

Yes. It vibrates though you as his teeth scrape your bottom lip as he sucks on it gently. Yes. When he drags his nails up your thighs, scratching. Yes when he leans his weight into your hips, pinning you to the bed underneath. 

This is part of why you love Hansol. He’s able to flip the switch he needs to meet you halfway, to offer whatever salve you need to the burn, whatever fire you need to rouse you. It’s an instinct of his, a calling that he answers every time. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, keeping him close. His kisses are needy and messy, turning to more tongue and teeth than anything. You thread your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling slightly. It earns a groan from him, his warm breath ghosting across your slick-bitten lips as he mouths across your jaw. 

Hansol grabs your thigh and wraps it around his waist. You squeeze, pinning him to you while he lets go of your leg, hand drifting to your bare ass to squeeze generously. You tug his hair in response and his laughter comes out in a huff of air. 

Attaching his mouth to your neck, Hansol slides his hands under your shirt. His palms are warm but you shiver at the feeling of his rough calluses scraping against your soft skin. He drags the tips of his fingers along the curve of your breast, teasing and light. 

“Don’t,” you growl, fingers going tight in his hair. “Not tonight.”

He bites you sharply, making you moan and arch into him. His tongue soothes the sting of his teeth and you feel his grin against your skin as his mouth drifts toward your shoulders. 

Hansol listens, though. Instead of teasing you with his feather-light touch, he flicks his thumb back and forth over a nipple, making you shiver. Being in his hold feels so good, the violence of the night fading to the background as Hansol’s hands and mouth numb the anger. 

After over a decade together, there is nothing he doesn’t know about you. He knows the way you like to be kissed, the way you have a sensitive spot under your ear, attaching his mouth to it and sucking greedily. He knows you like to be scratched and bitten, that you need to feel nothing but him for a moment of peace.

Hansol peels the shirt off of you. You don’t even feel the chill of the room, just the heat of his hands turning you over to press your face down into the mattress, his teeth and lips on the back of your shoulder, his other hand hooking behind your knee to pull it upward and spread you open. 

Your fingers dig into the mattress as Hansol sinks down, pressing kisses to your spine. It feels like you can’t stop shaking, only focused on the way his tongue darts out occasionally to taste your burning skin. His hands don’t stop either, squeezing the back of your thighs, skimming upward to gently squeeze your ass.

The ache for him is nearly unbearable by the time you feel the first, soft lick of his tongue on your cunt. You sigh, melting into the mattress as he prods lazily at your entrance before dragging back down to your clit. He knows exactly how to work you, mouth attaching to you and sucking leisurely, like he has all the time in the world to do this.

And he does, doesn't he? You and Hansol have whatever time is fated on this earth to spend together, so why should he rush? Why should he not enjoy the way you shake under the buzz of his mouth as he licks and sucks at you fervently, his hands running up and down the back of your thighs as he drags his nails along your skin. 

Reaching back with one of your hands, you sink your fingers into his hair. Hansol hums appreciatively, the buzz of his mouth against your pussy making you moan his name. He’s messy with it, devouring you in a way that makes nothing else in the world matter. You writhe under him, face hidden in pillows, short of breath.

The muscles in your lower stomach start to squeeze and you feel the force of your orgasm coming. Hansol can tell by the sounds you make, his hands turning firm as he keeps you pried open at the thighs, pressing his face further into you.

Your fingers tighten in his hair and you come with gritted teeth, screaming into pillows that smell like him. He continues to mouth at you, eager to work you through the full length of your orgasm. It sends you into overdrive, muscles twitching, legs shaking, lungs barely able to take in a breath. 

With a final, messy kiss to your pussy, he peels away, taking under a minute to shed himself of his clothes. Heaving, you lift your face from the pillows, feeling sticky drool on your chin to turn over your shoulder and look at him. 

You can barely see him in the darkness of the room, but you can just make out his shape as he shuffles to you on his knees, hands pumping his cock slowly. You make a desperate sound and he huffs - laughter, you know. He slides a hand underneath your thigh again, hitching one knee up high on the bed while the other is pressed flat. 

Hansol keeps your leg pinned there, stretching you open, muscles expanding as he presses the head of his cock into your entrance. His name escapes your mouth in a whine, feeling the way your walls spasm around him as he sinks in. The position has him hitting deep. You feel him everywhere, feel the way he invades your senses. 

“S’good,” you whisper when you feel his hips press against your ass. Your cunt flutters around him, trying to accommodate for the stretch. “Fuck.”

He hums in response, keeping one hand on your thigh to pry you open and the other on your hip to hold you in place as he retracts, the slide of his cock sending your eyelids fluttering. 

Hansol sets a hard pace from the jump, each one of his thrusts targeted and on point. He punches the air from your lungs and you become a panting mess under him, barely able to breathe. He puts his weight into it, leaning over you to stretch your leg higher up on the bed and crush you to the mattress the way you like, the way you need.

It feels safe here, jolting under the weight of him as he fucks into you hard, his grip tightening on you as you whine and clench around him. You dig your fingers into the sheet, twisting and tearing as if it can release the tension coiling inside you, begging to be let out.

For a brief moment, he slows his pace, pulling away from you. Your eyes snap open, ready to fire off a question when you feel him pry you open to spit onto the tight rim of your ass. You suck in a tight breath of air and hear him laugh before he presses the pad of his thumb to the ring of muscles there.

“Oh,” you breathe, melting. He doesn’t press his finger in, just keeps it firm on the seam of your ass, adding pressure and stimulation that sends you into a thoughtless daze. 

“Yeah,” he grunts, picking up his pace again, cock hitting deep. “Oh.” 

You don’t have a response - know that he’s teasing you, having sensed your brief moment of annoyance in the split second it took him to add another element of pleasure. You know Hansol will never disappoint you here wrapped in sheets that stick to your sweaty skin, sheets that smell like him, but you’ve always been quick to protest, quick to strike first. 

It doesn’t bother him. Nothing about you bothers him after this long together. Not you coming home and waking him up, needing to be fucked into the mattress to forget the hate coiling inside you. Not you being utterly useless tonight, letting him do all the work as he brings you to the brink of coming again. Not you reaching back to grab the wrist of the hand he has on your thigh, your nails digging in so hard you make him bleed. 

Hansol takes it all. Takes your shaking orgasm, takes the way you moan his name, takes his time as he fucks you through your high before he drops the hold he has on your leg to hold your hips to the bed instead. Takes the breath from your lungs when his thrusts turn from hard to brutal, hips crashing into you, forcing each breath from your lungs. 

The world goes blank. There’s just you laying in a bed that smells like petrichor and vetiver, breath coming to a screeching halt as your face presses into the mattress. He keeps you pressed there, a hand sliding to the middle of your back to keep you pinned, the other working the clenching rim of your ass.

If you could make a sound, you might scream. Instead, you shudder under him, coming violently and without air, ears ringing and blood rushing. It’s exactly what you were looking for, a specific high that only Hansol can give you. 

Eventually, he rolls you over and you gulp in air. You’re barely aware of anything, floating in the dizzy space between. A hand laces with yours, squeezing your fingers. You squeeze back, letting Hansol’s grip keep you tether as you gain your bearings. 

Slowly, you come back to the present. You blink your eyes open, despite how heavy they feel. You could fall asleep any moment, spent and toeing the edge of the nothing sleep always brings. Hansol is looking at you though, a look in his eye that sparks a little life in you.

“What?” you ask, voice barely above a raspy whisper. “What’s wrong?” 

Hansol’s hair is damp with sweat, pressed flat to his forehead. His eyes are dark and simmering with something unreadable but intense. 

“I should ask you that,” he answers after a pregnant pause. “What’s going on?” 

The question sours your efforts to forget immediately. His concern shatters the illusion that you’d let him fuck into you, removes the numbing you’d practically crawled into his lap for. With his worry comes the sharp stab of reality, all the anger and wrath and ugliness that you keep trying to shove down rearing its monstrous head.

“Nothing, Hansol.” Your words crack like a whip and you let go of his hand to roll over, turning your back to him. “I was just stressed.”

“So tell me what you’re stressed about.”

“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but we have stressful jobs.”

“You are not stressed over your job. Don’t sell me that. You have to be honest with me. You said we’d get through this shit together. You gotta talk to me, Angel.” 

Your heart starts to pound in your chest. You are suddenly painfully awake, body riddled with the tension Hansol had just gotten rid of minutes ago. Sweat slicks your skin anew, but this time from the anxiety of how close you feel to tipping over. 

“Can we just go to sleep?”

He scoffs. “I was asleep until you crawled in here looking at me like you were going to die. Why are you shutting me out?”

“I’m not shutting you out. You were quite literally just inside me.”

“Stop twisting what I’m fucking saying. I’m asking you to be open with me and no amount of you being a bitch is going to make me shut up. I know that’s what you want.” 

As always, Hansol is absolutely correct. He doesn’t miss. It’s what makes him such a good Rook, but makes him a good life partner. And he is your life partner. You’ve never said any vows at an alter and there’s no ring on your finger, but Hansol has been your soulmate and your partner since long before he pulled you out of that bathtub. 

And here you are hiding from him, crawling to him to beg him to numb you without any reason why, taking but not giving, demanding but not paying him back. Here you are trying to piss him off into silence, being as frustrating as possible to get him to give up and decide he doesn’t feel like fighting this battle.

He knows it. You know it.

A fissure appears on your resolve. Hansol says nothing, his words doing all the work for him as you mull them over. He doesn’t have to press you further - he knows the blow he’s dealt has worked, waiting in heavy silence as the facade you’ve built over the last few weeks starts to crumble to show him the ugly thing you’ve been keeping to yourself. 

“I’m angry,” you whisper. It comes out shaky. Scared. He doesn’t dare breath or move, letting you pour through the cracks he’s made. “I’m angry and I don’t know why and it’s like I can’t stop being angry. I feel it like it’s a thing that is alive, like I can’t get rid of it.”

You suck in a shuddering breath, feeling the way you’ve started shaking. You zone out as you speak, vision narrowing to a specific point of darkness in the bedroom. “I feel hate like I’ve never felt before and I swear it’s going to eat me alive. It’s like - it feels corrosive and like I can’t satiate it but the only thing that offers any relief is killing anyone who had to do with Minji’s death.” 

Hansol shifts behind you. He doesn’t move closer but you feel his hand move across the bed. He presses his palm flat to the base of your spine. It grounds you, makes it easier for you to continue, “I don’t get it. It’s not like she was my mom. She didn’t - she didn’t give birth to me but she didn’t try to drown me. She didn’t see me as something to be disposed of. She… saw me and embraced me, and thought I was useful. Liked me.” 

Clever girls like you are important. Valuable. Mean something.

Minji’s words left an impression on you. You think about them often, letting them replace the bible vowels your mother used to hiss as you. So many of your memories of a motherly figure are Minji teaching you how to read body language, Minij showing you how to look for the subtleties of deception in financial documents, communications, miscellaneous tidbits. 

“My dad was my god,” you whisper, voice quaking. “But Minji - she was an entity. She taught me how to fight back and keep what I wanted most protected. And they just… killed her in her bed, Hansol.” You realize you’er crying but now you can’t stop. “They broke into her house and killed her in her bed like she was a fucking dog and not Yoon Minji, the Wisdom of the fucking Choi Syndicate.” 

Hansol’s hand drags up and down your spine, slow and hypnotizing. You close your eyes, violently shivering as everything that’s been growing inside of you rushes out in a tide you can’t dam. “All because some stupid fucking kid ran his mouth to the wrong whore. Do you know how angry that makes me? She should have been safe, and a fucking nobody is why she died!” 

Instead of comforting you with words, Hansol deems it’s safe enough to grab you. He pulls your back to his chest, hooking his chin on your shoulder to bury his face in your neck. He’s warm and he feels safe, arms wrapping around you as you seethe. 

“I hate that I’m angry,” you hiss. “It feels so fucking stupid. People die all the time and I don’t care but this one bothers me and it makes me feel ridiculous. Makes me feel stupid - she was Jeonghan’s mom not mine. But I want anyone who had anything to do with it to die, Hansol. I need them to.” 

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Then we’ll kill them.”

Hansol says it so simply. Because of course to him it is simple: you need to feed this desire for revenge or it will kill you, thus it needs to be done. Of course he doesn’t think it’s stupid, doesn’t think you’re being irrational. To Hansol, it doesn’t matter what you want - he wants it too. 

To be loved by Hansol is to be loved entirely, without ifs, without buts, without any stipulations. He takes you exactly as you are, and it makes you break in his hold. He’s the only other person in this world who wants you exactly as you’ve been created.

And maybe that’s why you were so afraid of letting him in to see this. You’ll never get rid of that tiny, irrational fear that he’ll decide he’s seen enough. Nothing you’ve both been through has been easy, and loving you comes with so many obstacles that you don’t know how he doesn’t get tired of overcoming them. 

“You’ll have whatever vengeance you need,” Hansol promises. He nuzzles to you closer. “I’d do anything for you.” 

Once upon a time, your mother thought her god superseded everything. She swore her god was omnipotent, that he would save her and punish the evil around her. He’d never done anything for her, though. Never answered her prayers, never struck down anyone who raised a hand against her, never opened up the skies to cleanse the earth from evil. 

Your god answered your prayers. He struck down those who wished you harm, he erased those who stood in your way. He loved you and rewarded you for your love in turn. He cleansed you. Protected you. Allowed no weapon formed against you to prosper. 

Hansol was your god, and you were his vengeful angel. 

SYNDICATE ROLES

Tower - title for a Syndicate boss Wisdom - title for the second-in-command to a Sydicate boss Sentinel - title for the main military leader of a Syndicate Riots - title for a member of the Syndicate responsible for sowing discord Swords - title for a member of the Syndicate who is a fighter/military role Chariots - members of the Syndicate who make deals/act as business brokers Rooks - members of the Syndicate who collect debts/lead the extortion practices Justices - members of the Syndicate on the legal counsel Hanged Men - members of the Syndicate who betrayed their Syndicate Watchers - members of a Syndicate who are spies/informants Patrons - citizens who pay homage/have an alliance/are under the protection of a Syndicate Vanguard - official members of the Syndicate who don't have specific roles but do work for the Syndicate

TAG LIST

@ddaddunugu @ourkivee @tie-nn @cookiearmy @thesunsfullmoon @stray-bi-kids @ldysmfrst @thepoopdokyeomtouched @eoieopda @onlywon4u @hopeless-foolery @iamawkwardandshy @gyuguys @codeinebelle @Burnt-horizons @ateez-atiny380 @abibliolife @idubiluranghae @bultaereume @yoongznme @kaitieskidmore97 @coffee-addict-kitten @coralpenguinbeard @gyubakeries @archivistworld @hipsdofangirl @asyre @aksweet7 @bunnybeaer @valenhui @fxckinbreathe @agustamygdala7 @kaepjjangiya @fancypeacepersona @beckyloveshannie @SecretFoxBear @babycaratdeul @aiforyuu @imujings

[lizzy019]

𝑀𝓎 𝐵𝒾𝑔 𝐵𝑒𝒶𝓇!

Switch!König x Switch!Fem!Reader

cw -> insecurities, orgasm denial, cum licking?

Word Count -> 1.8K

AHHH I LOVE HAIRY KÖNIG! No because be for real, the hairier, the better 😭😭

König was folding the clothes you washed, his big hands gently maneuvering the flimsy cloth as he began to stack them piece by piece. He’d always smile when he stumbled upon a garment of yours, folding it and placing it into a separate pile.

König was simply waiting for you to come home from work, he missed you so dearly and he wanted to surprise you. He’d come home from his job unexpectedly, so he wanted you to be ecstatic seeing him again.

Walking down the eerily silent halls of the condo building to your home, you find yourself lamenting briefly about your dearest boyfriend who was on his mission still in the most rural part of some distant country.

The soft clinking of your keys in your hand as you approached the door had König stiffen, and the rigid rattling sounds of your key unlocking the hefty door had him frozen. You were here, he was so excited to see you! Any more excited and he’d be bouncing off the walls.

The door of your condo swung open, your shoes kicked off in mild discomfort from them digging at your heels, but once the shoes came off, the pain eased instantly. Your work items were placed down, your hair tied up from the heat, and your jacket was hung up.

König watched all of it, trying not to chuckle when he saw that you hadn’t noticed him yet. You seemed too tired. He used this to his advantage and creeped up behind you, watching you swivel around when you sensed someone behind you.

Seeing your whole expression change from worry to absolute joyousness had his heart thumping violently within his hulking chest, and he finally laughed out of glee when your arms secured themselves around his midsection.

“König! I’m so happy you’re back safe!” You exclaimed with utter relief.

König blushed under his mask, keeping you in the hug for a bit longer before pulling away. He was so happy to see you, it made every nerve in his body twitch and tingle out of appreciation for his efforts on coming back home. Even if he worked himself to the bone just to come home, he was so happy he did it all.

“Mein Liebling, it’s been too long. I’ve missed you sorely,” He hummed out in a thoughtful tone.

“I folded our clothes, Liebe. You don’t have to worry about doing it now, if it helps you at all.”

To your surprise, looking at where he folded all of your laundry had you smiling ear to ear. König’s kindness was simply amazing, and you tippy-toed up to kiss his masked cheek out of gratitude and appreciation.

“How do you say it? Danke, right?” You inquired softly, giving his pecs a playful honk before taking your folded laundry into your arms to put away.

“Ja, your pronunciation is good, Schatz.” He smiled, giving your ass a firm pat before taking his own clothes to put them away.

You reacted with a pouty expression when he gave your rear a small slap, and you laughed a little, skipping away to go and put your clothes he folded so kindly for you away for later use.

König followed along, tagging along behind you as you both hurried to your shared bedroom. Your clothes were stuffed into the closet properly, and after that was done, you scurried over to the mattress that was custom-made for König’s size to fit atop it.

He followed suit, smiling as he threw his mask to the side, designating it as a problem he could deal with later as he pressed kisses all over your face, neck, and collarbone.

You loved it, the soft stubble on his face grazing your skin, tickling you more than his pretty pink lips ever could. You sighed out into the bedroom, a hand coming to his shoulder as you relished in the feeling.

His hands meticulously grabbed at your soft, supple breasts, tweaking your nipples just right so a moan elicts from your throat. König was loving this.

A hand of his came down to play with your pussy, rubbing it from the exterior as your pants covered your little gateway to his ecstasy. With gentle rubs, he found a movement that had you growing wet, a puddle forming in your underwear and soaking through to become visible even through your joggers.

This had König’s cock growing hard in his pants, he loved knowing you felt good because of him, and it was really doing wonders to his soft and mouldable ego.

“Take my pants off, please. Want you to finger me, Kö..” You murmured with an attached moan, looking into his lovely blue eyes with pure enjoyment.

At your request, König didn’t hesitate to please you, and your request was fulfilled in a matter of seconds. His hands untied your joggers’ string, fiddling with the small piece of fabric before it finally came undone. His hands slid off your pants alongside your panties, watching your pussy ooze out for him and beg for his attention.

Oh lord, he’d give it to you.

This needy body he loved so much.

His thick digits, middle and ring, plunged themselves deep into your aching core, which pulled a loud moan from you as your hips desperately tried to thrust into his hands, pining for release.

König took this as a sign to get his weeping cock free from the confines of his jeans and cotton underwear, letting his hardened rod slip free and into the cool air of the bedroom.

His fingers had you walking on heaven, but you felt a sudden emptiness that had you rejogging back down to the moment and you whined in disbelief.

König was looking at his fingers which he used on you, licking them kitten-ishly as he tasted you like an ice lolly. It was simply the most heavenly taste.

“Liebling, you taste tangy. I like it very much, so süß.” He murmured, smiling softly.

You smiled as well, his expression making your heart warm. His smile was so contagious, you wouldn't expect it from such a hardworking and courageous soldier.

With needy hands, you pawed at his shirt, wanting to take it off. His expression shifted to worry, but he loved you, you were his kleines Liebe, you wouldn’t judge him, surely!

His hands nervously slipped the fabric of his shirt off for you to see. His torso covered in a lovely poof of hair, auburn and gray hairs speckled only on his stomach while his chest was more thickly covered.

König’s expression was soft and worrisome, and he waited so pitifully for your reaction towards it.

You could only smile widely, your hands coming to twirl the soft hair in your fingers, lovingly touching it and accepting it wholly. It was so cute, you couldn’t understand why he disliked it so much.

“Cute little curls, yeah? No reason to be all shy because of them, they’re cute! You’re worrying far too much, König. Now,” You hummed out, placing a kiss to the crook of his neck and smiling.

“No more sad stuff, hm? Let’s have a proper reunion, one with nothing but love.”

König nodded, that idea sounded heavenly at best. He laid you on your back and stripped your shirt off, smiling softly as he pressed a kiss to your cleavage.

“You’re so pretty, mein Liebe. So gorgeous.” He hummed, giving his weepy cock a slow stroke to start himself.

He was nothing short of average. An 8 incher hiding in his pants, lengthy and veiny with the cutest pink, uncut tip. It stretched you wide open, hit your cervix without a doubt, and had your mouth hanging open every time he used his weapon on you.

So when he pressed his tip to your pretty folds, you gave a soft whimper before it turned into a shriek when all his length was sheathed in your walls.

Maybe it was the way he looked so desperate while beginning to let you adjust to his girth, or maybe it was the way he whispered words of praise and love to you while he thanked you for your acceptance.

He was such a sweetheart.

König gave you a few breathing seconds before thrusting his lovely lengthy rod into your sweet tight cunny. This was heavenly to him, the way your pussy walls clamped around him so tight that it was hard to move, the way he had to apply lube almost every minute or two because the constant suction of your pussy to him made the lube spurt out. König was so happy he came home to you.

“Liebling! I wanna cum, can I cum?” He begged, shoving his head into your neck and thrusting into you like a fleshlight.

You were moaning and squirming so helplessly, against your dignity, the ecstasy was simply too great. But his submission woke your trance, and you knew what was happening.

He needed you to be the harsh one now.

“No, not yet. Fuck me until I cum first, fuck me hard- oh God!” You maintained composure for a bit, only losing it when his thrusts became rabid and harsh.

Your hands clawed at his shoulders, raking his back to create red streaks. The congenial pleasure was hiking up, your release too close as you shuddered on him.

“König! Oh..” You yelped, sighing shortly after as he stopped for you to release on him.

He pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, giving you a second or two as to not overstimulate your poor cunt before thrusting again to chase his own pleasure. The gates to heaven on Earth were so close, just a few more.

“Liebe, scheiße, I’m going to cum.. please let me cum!” He whined out, clutching your tender body.

You nodded, too tired to form proper sentences or even speak properly. You just wanted him to give you his seed, to finally complete the ceremony of his arrival home from his year at war.

So he moaned out a long cry before his hips stuttered to release his thick, creamy seed into your welcoming womb, his weight collapsing on top of you as he let that ecstasy burn every nerve in his body.

“Oh Liebling..” He whispered, his mind too tired from such an intense orgasm.

You smiled, gently rubbing his back and grabbing the blanket to cover the both of you with. Soon enough, König was knocked out, falling askeep on you with zero hesitation, and soon you fell asleep as well, basking in the warmth of the afterglow and the warmth of his big body atop yours.

[thursdayinspace]

There is something about the way Mulder learns to accept and seek out emotional support and comfort throughout the course of the seasons. With all the casual physical contact that they have going on from the beginning, he seems ready to reach out, but doesn't seem to expect others to do the same. He feels deeply, but he keeps it to himself; something he seems to have learned from an early age. He's had to build his life around other people's pain since his sister disappered. He doesn't want to burden others with his needs.

Scully's "I wouldn't put myself on the line for anybody but you" in "Tooms" is met with a joke immediately to lighten the mood -- a flirty joke, but still. He doesn't think he deserves how much she cares about him. Caring is his job. It's everyone else's job to disregard and dismiss his feelings and not take him seriously.

Scully setting up their secret meeting in "Little Green Men" -- he seems almost a little confused that she really just wanted to see him. He doesn't react when the touches his hair before she leaves. He doesn't react when she briefly takes his hand at the end. I don't think those little gestures of comfort don't register with him. They do. He simply doesn't quite know how to respond to them. He doesn't hesitate to gently cup her cheek and offer comfort when she wants to come back to work after her father's death. But he would never expect her to do that for him.

In "Anasazi" when he says "Thank you for taking care of me," it seems like he has to think about that sentence for a long time. Not because he isn't grateful, but because he doesn't really understand why she did it. Nothing more embarrassing than thanking someone and hearing "Oh, I didn't do it for you." And he said some pretty rude things to her when he was drugged, accusing her of betraying him. Who knows how much of it he remembers, but apparently enough to feel mortified. He never wanted to hurt her, but he must have, and then, after all that, she saved him and risked so much for him?

The scene in "Detour" comes to mind, the night in the forest when she tries to pull his head into her lap so he can get some rest and so that she can keep him warm, and he jokes "I don't want to wrestle." She doesn't have to do this, he's fine. He's not being a manly man who doesn't need anything, it's just that she's offering something that's hard to accept for him. She offers him a place to let go and stop pushing on. And he doesn't think she needs to do that, he is not fatally injured or anything, he'll be fine. But she wants him to be comfortable. She sees him, and is there for him.

At his mother's hospital bed in "Herrenvolk," she reaches for him and he lets himself cry into her shoulder. It's not just an emotional scene because of what he's going through. It's that he's allowing himself to truly let himself go in front of her. She reaches for him and he gives in and leans his face against her shoulder, holds onto her, letting her hold him. Letting her hold him. That's the really crucial point. Who has ever done that for him before? Who has ever allowed him his pain and told him it's okay, I know you have to feel like this right now, I know you're hurting, and I will be your tether for as long as you have to lose yourself in this?

"Sein und Zeit" -- he clings to her so tightly, lets her be his lifeline in this moment, as he knows she wants to be that for him. Letting go like that is so, so scary. There is always the fear that it will change someone's opinion of you. Make them think you're weak. Let them know what gets to you, and then you will always always always have to deal with them looking at you trying to asses how okay you are in stressful situations. It leaves you wide open and vulnerable. Learning that she doesn't expect him to be strong, that she doesn't believe that things don't affect him, that's a new concept. It requires so much trust.

Being able to take an offered hand is really fucking difficult, especially when you've been conditioned to be the one doing the reaching out. Leaning on someone is terrifying. Some patterns are hard to unlearn. But her steady presence finally allows him to show weakness and trust her to catch him when he falls. It lets him understand that he's allowed to fall sometimes.

[kelin-is-writing]

18+ MDNI

touya todoroki x fem!reader; quirkless!au, smut, enemies with benefits (?), enemies to lovers. pining, fluff, angst. BE AWARE.

enemy!touya who has been a pain in the ass for you since middle school, after you went to a charity party with your family. your fathers, both business, are sworn enemies for each others and looks like their kids were bound to follow behind their steps seen how right off the bat you were irked by the boy as soon as your eyes locked with his arrogant ones from across the huge hall of the hotel the party was. it was hate at first sight.

enemy!touya who since he found out you two go to the same school, but are in different classes, had taken a liking to push your nerves way too much. the white haired boy used to come to your classroom every-damn-day for the sole purpose of ticking you, sometimes it worked and others it didn’t, touya still had fun teasing you regardless like the insufferable bastard he is.

enemy!touya with whom you have battles over who gets the highest score in the mid-terms and final exams going on since the day you saw his name above yours, right after the “#1”, when his name had always been “#10” at most to this day, meaning he had started to be serious only now. that little shit had started to call you “miss number 2” so much that everyone in your school knew it and sometimes even used it to poke fun at you, getting death glares in return of course. nevertheless to say that since then, no matter how much you bend backwards, touya is always a step ahead of you and that made you hate him even more, especially when he boasts about it to you on purpose.

enemy!touya who kept this shit up throughout high school and even now that you two are in college, because he’s an arrogant piece of shit just like that and you really didn’t want to have nothing to do with him, even more since he has grown a whole ass fanclub that has threatened you from your junior years of high school until the last one. you trying to distance yourself from touya though, has unfortunately made him become even more annoying than he already was and with that your hate for him only grew.

enemy!touya who has now started to become unnecessarily touchy and intimate with you; arm always nonchalantly circling your shoulders as the two of you with your groups of friends walked through the campus before you swat his arm away, him shamelessly stealing a bite from your food or a sip from your drink like it was nothing before you snapped back at him to eat/drink his own, sitting next you at the lessons where you two were together in and resting his arm behind you long the bench as bored turquoise eyes looked at the blackboard (seemingly) without interest.

enemy!touya who taunts you everytime he proposes to do something but you tap out, because you’re tired of dealing with him, and your competitive ass of someone who hates losing falls for it everytime, like it happened a friday where touya said that there was a party at his house that night asking you and your friends if you girls wanted to tag along. everyone said yes basically hanging from his lips, but frowning annoyed you declined and were about to leave, telling him to say hi to his siblings for you, when the white haired boy smirking taunted you about being so stuck up and boring, someone who doesn’t know how to have fun or relax and that did indeed push a nerve into you. before knowing it, you were at the his house wearing a short silver dress that reached your mid-thigh and left your back bare.

enemy!touya who has been looking your way intensely since you’ve arrived with a gaze that you didn’t know how to decipher, but it had made you shiver a few times for some reason that were oblivious to you. regardless, that room was getting way too hot for your likings so, leaving the cup you were holding on the table, you excused yourself and walked toward the balcony to get a breather.

enemy!touya who followed you outside like a lost puppy, in his own house, and admire your beautiful figure leaning to the balcony handrail looking at the city view in front of you lost in thoughts. he walks towards you and leaning down to the side of your face he whispers in your ear “hey there princess, how come you’re here all alone?” making you flinch and turn in surprise back to him, nearly bumping into his chin with your head. you tell him that you’re just out there for a breather while shooing him with an hand and a roll of your eyes, proceeding then to turn your back at him while flipping your hair touya’s way, not knowing that it made his eyes darken and smirk grow wider.

enemy!touya who runs the back of his fingers from between yours shoulder blades until they nearly reached your lower back, making you straighten up as your breath got caught in your throat. what the hell was happening exactly? and why his touch made your belly churn like that? you hear him cackle before he’s by your side at your left, mocking the naivety of his sweet virgin y/n.

enemy!touya who is utterly shocked when you tell him you ain’t virgin since a long time ago and– wait, is that irritation inside his cerulean eyes or are you seeing things? touya grins, a cold one, staring at you with an icy gaze as he comments on how you were such a little minx despite your innocent looks, which made you snap back at him that just like everyone you had your few experiences that were none of his business. he snorted taunting you about how sour you were despite those so called experiences and leaning toward your ear the boy whispered “then none of those losers satisfied you...”, you nearly choked on your spit and were about to answer back at him when touya kept talking “wanna bet i can fuck you right?”, his arm went to surround your waist, a warm hand of his resting on your hip as he held you close to his side.

enemy!touya who just like that has you laid down onto his bed, one of his hands pinning your wrists above your head while the other is running slowly from your knee to your thigh, giving it a squeeze as his mouth sucked on the side of your neck, while you were panting against his ear and pressing your thighs together. he clicked his tongue, smirking wolfishly against your skin, before going to shove his hand between your legs and palm your cunt, a groan escaping his mouth when touching your heat from over your panties he could feel his fingers get drenched “so wet and i didn’t even do anything...”, he giggled amused, face to face with you now looking down at you hungrily, while rubbing fervently his middle and forefinger long your clothed slit “i’m gonna fuck you so good y/n.”, and oh... he so did.

enemy!touya who didn’t waste time and asked you right away to become ‘enemies with benefits’, since you insisted that you two weren’t friends; when you asked him why, he simply told you that your compatibility in bed was just too good to not make a use of it “besides, you might want to let off some steam from time to time...”, he reasoned while laying with arms crossed behind his head on the bed while you were at the edge of it picking your panties from the floor and well... it wasn’t that bad of idea, he made you actually think about it. suddenly touya’s hands were on your thighs parting your legs slowly while his face came out from over your shoulder, his lips ghosting an inch away from your face as his eyes looked intensely and alluring into yours “and i’ll be right here, to welcome you with open arms.”, and his tongue was inside your mouth, sealing that accord for good.

enemy!touya who fucks you into oblivion whenever you’re having an hard day, never missing a chance to point out how his dick fits perfectly inside your pussy now and when you reply him that “it’s because you fuck me way too much, touya you horndog hmpf!”, a moan reverberating in the room making what you said sound so-damn-hot to his ears, just like that he started to pound harder and deeper into you, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix, and god... he always make you see the stars at each thrust “talking like– ngh–! you ain’t fucking horny yourself princess–!”

enemy!touya who, after only a month since the start of your relationship, is slowly starting to become possessive towards you already; which was stupid to him because you two were just fuck buddies for fuck’ sake! then why was he being so dramatic and pissed over some random classmate making you laugh? you laugh with him too (now), so what?! and why was he fucking you dumb onto your desk, in the empty classroom, out of spite? for what? so fucking uncool. but it was so damn satisfying how you moaned like that... “a-ahh! touya! yes! harder! m-oh-re please!” without a single care in the world about you two being in a public space. he bended forward to press his chest flush against your back, while playing with your breast, his pelvis slapping harder against your ass making you moan in bliss at every thrust. god— he loves you so ba— wait, what? he stopped, stilling inside of you right away, staring at the wood of the table with wide eyes. what did he just thought? that was absurd why would he– suddenly the palm of your hand was gently on his cheek, snapping him out from that thought “touya... you okay there?”, his heart fluttered at hearing your voice so soft, sweet and hoarse, he gulped before replying curtly to you in a breathless whisper kissing you deeply, with a passion touya didn’t knew he had and fuck... it felt so good his dick got even harder, hips starting to move slowly against yours, while his chest swell up with a warmth he couldn’t ignore anymore at this point.

enemy!touya who has finally come to terms with his newfound feelings for you, but didn’t voice them out or knowing you you were going to end your current “relationship” on the spot and he didn’t want that, because then things would go back to how they were before meaning you weren’t going to smile, joke around or bicker with him anymore, so he thought that it was better to keep them to himself, that way he won’t lose you. unfortunately things keep getting harder, because everytime touya holds you as you two have sex he wants more than just that and automatically his hips snap against yours sharply, as if to engrave himself into you with each thrust, and that makes it harder for him to keep his true feelings hidden.

enemy!touya who out of nowhere has started to take you on dates, it wasn’t only that that was weird to you but also how recently he’s been more touchy and overall gentle with you in a whole new way. after you two have sex he stays in bed cuddling instead of going out on the balcony to smoke, he now actually showers or baths with you instead of just having sex right then and there, he has even started to have conversations (deign of that name) with you about more things other then when and where are you two going to meet up for sex; touya seems to genuinely care for you whenever he takes you home, you two go shopping, helps you look over subjects you didn’t get. it was so different from all the other times, your heart now can’t help but flutter when he pats your head or smiles your way, it was bound to get bad for you if he kept this up.

enemy!touya who went out of his way to throw you a surprise birthday party, at his house, leaving you utterly speechless especially after seeing him in all his beauty walk up to you with laughing at your shocked expression before he sneaks an arm around your waist accompanying you to his room, so you could get changed into the blue silk dress he picked up especially for you and when you walk out from the bathroom touya nearly faints at how beautiful you are in his favorite color. smirking he walks up to you holding something in his hand that, after asking you to hold up your hair, he puts around your neck before moving away with a satisfied and cocky smile “now you’re all set princess.”, when you look down your eyes see a silver necklaces with a ‘T’ pendant decorated in rhinestones. thinking about how much of a boyfriend thing this was, your cheeks turned flame red as you murmured a “thanks...”, his hand goes to rest on top of your head before sliding to the nape as he pulled you to him in the warmest hug he has ever given you “happy birthday y/n”, it was then that you realized the bittersweet reality: you’ve fallen in love with touya todoroki.

enemy!touya who has noticed how you look at him, sometimes, like you have something to say but as soon as he turns to you you turn the other way, which as you can guess pissed him off quite a lot. so one day touya took you aside to talk “what’s your deal y/n? turning silent on me out of nowhere, the fuck goes on?”, you’re silent for a few seconds before breathing in deeply at looking up at him trying to not let it show that you were sad about your following words “let’s end all this touya.”, at hearing you say that his heart sank and he felt like the ground was disappearing from under his feets, swallowing thickly with weak voice and eyes slightly teary he asked you why you wanted to stop your relationship out of the blue and when you replied to him that “i just can’t do this anymore...”, he felt his heart crack a little more “what? did you find someone you like or some shit along that?”, when the white haired boy saw you blush slightly while looking away his heart broke completely, because that means you have someone you like and clearly is not him so... he has basically lost you.

enemy!touya who has been absent from school since the day you two broke things off and he left without giving you the chance to explain things until the end, what you can’t forget though is that hurt, lost and desperate look in his cerulean eyes that keep appearing behind your eyelids everytime you try to sleep. why he had looked at you that way? why did he sound in shambles when he had talked to you the very last words since your latest conversation? you need answers so bad, but unfortunately the one who could give them to you was nowhere to be found, as of now, and you have an important thing to tell him too.

enemy!touya who after a week shows up at the school’s gates out of nowhere leaning against his car, a group of girls surrounding him asking the reason of his absence and telling touya that they’ve been on short of eyecandy for the whole time he didn’t attend school. you rolled your eyes pissed at how not only touya has been absent for a whole week without telling anyone if he was okay, but he also had ignored totally your calls and messages, then he shows up out of nowhere acting like a goddamn celebrity making your worries turn into anger and jealousy, because he kept smiling and sweet talking at those cringy fangirls of his with you standing right there. and you feel stupid because he wasn’t your property, so acting jealous now after the last thing that happened between you two wasn’t fair, that’s why you kept going your way ignoring all that crowd without noticing his turquoise eyes following you longingly.

enemy!touya who has finally catched you after you continuously avoided him for more than four days now, none of you knew how the heck did you manage to escape him everytime, but he finally has caught you and took you to his car ordering you calmly but firmly to get on. after he takes you to the sea, he stops the vehicle turning if off as before leaning tiredly against his seat and looking over at you with a loving gaze that you failed to notice, too occupied with looking outside the window trying to not burst in tears from how much you missed being with him. touya tells you to look at him and when you don’t do it his thumb and index close around your chin, forcing you to turn towards him, when he sees your face as you try to hold back your tears he’s confused “wha the–? why are you–?” “it’s your fault, you dumbass!” “mine?! what did i do now?!”, you scold him about how worried you were because he's been dead silent for a whole week and “you know how paranoid i get asshole!”, shocked, and also a little frightened by the death glares you were giving him, he listens silently to your rants until you finally spill “can’t believe you went straight up to those cringy ass horny stalkers as soon as you came back, when i’m the one who missed you the most–!”, that made his eyes widen instantly while his heart started beat faster inside his chest, he lost it even more when you realized what you just said and blushed up to your ears in embarrassment. after few seconds of silence where you were catching your breath he spoke “and why would you miss me? i thought you hated me, your enemy...”, you turned to him pouting and frowning with furrowed eyes “are you teasing me or do you really not get it?”, touya snorts amused before unbuckling his seat belt and leaning towards you, lips pressing right away onto yours in a soft and gentle kiss. when he parted away, his forehead pressed against yours as he licked his lips to wipe your lipgloss, the boy smiled “i love you, i love you so much i’m fucking scared... i’ve probably loved you since we first meet.”, you looked at him enchanted before whispering, completely smitten by him “i love you too, i love you with all my heart touya...”, that was enough for him, because the next second he had unbuckled your seat belt and pulled you onto his lap kissing you deeply, just the way both of you liked it. it took you two some time to reach this point, but now that you finally had each others there was no way any of you would let go.

[imauthicktic]

How about the trickster, Wraith, Doctor, and Pyramid Head when they s/o is injured because of someone else thank youuuu

Heyooooo!! I greatly apologize for how long this took. Life has been crazy for me lately. Anyways, I hope you like this!!

Authors note: honestly was thinking about the scene from TWD where Glenn dies when I was writing the Trickster's part cause I saw it recently and I got sad lol

Warnings: mentions of blood but nothing graphic/ explicitly written

Trickster:

Ji-Woon may be a sadistic man, but he firmly stands by “no one can hurt them but me,” motto. So when you guys are in a trial together, he is living la vida loca. He loves the chase and he always leaves you for last and until you’re the last person, he tends to tease you with either a harsh smack to your ass or a small knick to your exposed skin with a throwing knife, it just depends on how he’s feeling at the moment. 

Today, he’s feeling a little flirty and has been giving you the usual butt smack, but also the occasional grope. The shock on your face afterwards is absolutely priceless and now he’s thinking of making this a normal greeting to you in the trials you share. It definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by the other survivors in the trial. Especially since they all hate being in trials with you two. You usually get special treatment and the flirting can be an eye sore after a while. You get it, you really do, but some of them are taking it out on you and you don’t particularly think it's fair considering how often you help them in all the trials. Ji-Woon was chasing after Ashley when he noticed you ahead of them. Ashley also noticed you in the distance and immediately sped up to where you were. Neither Ji-Woon or you expected what had happened next. Ashley grabbed you and roughly turned you both around and threw you into Ji-Woon who was already swinging his bat and ended up with you getting knocked out. While Ji-Woon was worried about you being unconscious, he put you up against a locker and ran after Ashley. It took no time to get the guy and stab him just enough to keep him alive. Ji-Woon dragged him by his hair over to where he left you. 

You groaned as you woke up, feeling blood dripping down your face and a raging headache. You were trying to clear the black spots from your vision when you heard a voice singing nearby as it slowly got closer. Your vision finally starts getting clearer when you see the flashy yellow leather jacket come into view. “Ahh, my sweet angel, you woke up just in time for the show,” Ji-Woon smirked down at you. He set his bat up against the locker next to you as he dropped Ashley next to you and kneeled down next to you. “T-The show?” you asked. Ji-Woon looked down at you with a small frown, noticing the clear pain you’re in. It’s different when it's intentional, but this time it wasn't and he was going to take out the anger on Ashley while you watch. “Jagi… this is for you darling,” Ji-Woon said before giving a cheeky wink and started to beat Ashley. 

By the time Ji-Woon finished, you were feeling sick from watching. The screams gave you a headache and there was blood falling from your face that wasn’t yours. You knew it wasn’t going to be too fun to deal with Ashley once you got back to the survivors camp, but it's also known that they shouldn’t try to do silly tricks with Ji-Woon as the recipient. Lots of you tried to see what the limits were with the killers and Ji-Woon was not one to mess with. Especially when it comes to you. You were off limits and everyone knew that. Or so you thought. You were still lost in thought staring at the bloody heap that once looked human when you felt yourself being picked up bridal style and you looked into the eyes of your feral man. “Did you enjoy yourself baby? Did you hear those screams? They were great, but not as pleasing to the ears as yours,” he sighed as he walked to a more secluded area. “Uh, it was quite the show Ji,” you quietly said as he sat you down on a short wall where you were eye level with him. 

He looked deeply into your eyes as he put his hands on the sides of your head and gently moved it to where he can see the damage to your head. He smacked his teeth in annoyance at the clear gash on the top of your scalp. He kissed your forehead as he went to grab a med pack he saw on the way over. Once he’s back, he quickly makes work on wrapping your head and giving small apologies when you hissed at the pain. “Ta-dah! You are healed!” he said doing jazz hands with a flashy smile on his face. You let out a snort at that. “Yeah with a swing like yours, I’m lucky to still have my head.” His smile didn’t fall as his left eye twitched at your comment. He, however, softened his smile as he rested his hands on your thighs. “You know I would never hurt you that bad. I know I can be a dick, but I do love you, jagiya,” he said as he leaned in to brush a surprisingly soft, sweet kiss to your lips. He pulled back slightly and rested his forehead against yours. You let out a small giggle before blurting out, “if only you were nice like this all the time.” Ji-Woon immediately pulled back, looked you dead in the eyes, and turned around to walk away, “good luck getting to see that side again!” “W-Wait! What? You can tease, but I can’t? Hey! I said wait!!” you hopped off the wall and ran up to him and jumped onto his back and wrapped your limbs around him causing you both to laugh as he just continued walking with you attached to him.

Wraith:

Philip could sense you the moment you stepped foot into his realm. You could say he has “Y/N senses”. Knowing you’re here, he transported to where you were at the edge of his realm. He was excited as the past few days, he hasn’t been able to see you because of the trials making it impossible to have time together. Either he was in a trial when you weren’t or you were in a trial when he wasn’t. He just missed you and couldn’t wait to gather you in his arms. However, when he transported to you, he was not expecting to see you in clear discomfort. He knows every now and then that the survivors can be hurt for a little while after a trial before they get properly healed, but he’s never seen you in this much pain before. 

You look up at Philip with a wobbly smile and tears in your eyes. You limped towards him when a sharp pain shot up your leg making you gasp. Philip’s arm shot straight out to grab you as you nearly fell forward. Philip pulled you into him and you sighed feeling his warmth surrounding you and wrapped your arms around his torso. He grunted at you to get you to look up at him. You can see how worried he is through his expression. “Oh Philip. It was such a tiring trial and I missed you so much.” He missed you so much and he knew that he wanted to just take care of you until you’re healed and spend his time spoiling you with his affection. He leaned down to you and rubbed his nose against yours sweetly before picking you up and transporting into the wreck yard building with the sound of his bell. 

Once inside, he put you down onto the makeshift bed you guys had put together a while ago. He leaned down to look at your blood-soaked wrapped up ankle. He carefully reached down and knew who the culprit was immediately. The bite marks of a bear trap are obvious and deep. He let out a small sigh as he grabbed some rags that were lying around to replace the tattered and soaked through gauze. He knew there wasn’t much for him to do to help and you knew that as well. It was just a waiting game at this point. “I’m sure you could’ve guessed it was a trial with Evan,” you were brought to this ‘world’ with your old childhood friend, the one that everyone knows as The Trapper. “Evan wrapped me up after the trial when I started heading here,” you pause, “he’s still looking out for me after all these years.. I hate that he still sees me as that clumsy little kid he met so long ago.” You let out a small laugh thinking about all the times he had taken care of your scraped knees and twisted ankles. Philip and Evan had a small, non-verbal agreement to always have an eye out for you. They both understand your importance to each other and Philip is happy that you have someone else that takes care of you out of genuine love for you.

You can already feel your ankle heal as the pain is finally subsiding and you can tell the wounds are closing up. You let out a groan of relief because now you can move it freely without wincing in pain. Philip was pleased knowing that you were feeling better and laid down in front of you on the bed and wrapped himself around you. His arms brought you closer to him as he breathed in your scent. You moved your head back a bit so that Philip could look you in the eyes. He loved the softness of your eyes when you were relaxed and in his arms. The past few days of not seeing each other made you both crave each other’s presence to the max and now that you are both in the present and wrapped in each other’s arms, you both couldn’t be happier. You both rubbed your noses together and then rested your foreheads together as you both breath in the moment.

Doctor:

Herman is definitely the best one to take care of an injured significant other. I know he specializes in psychology, but I feel like he knows basic first aid and has the facility to take care of these things. Especially considering his dear significant other is a survivor, they tend to get hurt quite often. However, he knows he can’t control what the other killers do when it comes to their trials, but he knows he can scare the other survivors to keep their hands to themselves.

When you finally got out of the trial you were in, he didn’t expect you to look so shell-shocked as you walked up to his desk. Herman stood up and slowly walked up to you and put his hands on your arms. “Are you ok my love?” he asked, trying to meet your far off gaze. You couldn’t even respond as you just shook at the thoughts of dealing with that damned creepy clown. He got you just as you were about to run out the gate. Being mori’d by that bastard makes you sick. Taking your pinky makes you want to throw up knowing he’s possibly sucking on it again. Herman’s eyes ran over your body in worry trying to see if there was anything physically wrong and noticed your wrapped up hand. He gently grabbed it and unwrapped the gauze. As he was finishing unwrapping he saw that your pinky was gone and put all the pieces together. He knew of your fear of the clown. For some reason, you’ve been able to avoid trials with him since you and Herman have been together, so it's the first time he’s seen you like this.

With a small sigh Herman brought you over to his desk and touched his nose against your cheek before going to grab some pain numbing ointment that he remembered having and some fresh gauze. Herman grabbed your chin and lifted your head up so he could look you in the eyes as he said, “I’m sorry that you had to deal with that creature of a clown.” You teared up a little thinking about the genuine fear you have when dealing with that guy. Herman rubbed his thumbs against your cheeks and placed his forehead against yours before he pulled away to take care of your hand. 

After finishing the rewrap and putting his supplies away he sat down at the chair of his desk in front of you and patted his lap. You got off the top of the desk and eased your way across his lap as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He moved one hand to rest on your thigh and rubbed his thumb against it in small circles. “Thank you Herman,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and tucking your head on his shoulder. “Anything for you darling.”

Pyramid Head:

Pyramid Head is definitely one of the killers here that no one messed. Killers and survivors alike. However, you’re an exception. You’re his lover and everyone is cautious of that. All but a few killers know not to cross a line when it comes to you since they don’t want to deal with the wrath of Pyramid Head. 

Today was a slow day for you and you thought maybe you would be lucky and not have a trial for a whole day. Unfortunately, as soon as you finished that thought, the fog consumed you and brought you to Haddonfield map. Probably one of the least scary maps in your opinion. Not yet knowing who the killer was always made you a little nervous, so you started working out your nerves by working on the generators. Sadly, you’re still on edge so you get startled by Vittorio coming up behind you, thus messing up the wiring and the generator combusting. “Vitto! You scared me,” you said, almost embarrassed. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said genuinely. You both quickly started repairing it as you guys heard a scream far in the distance so you know the killer isn’t too close yet.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that no one went to help the person that got hooked so you left Vitto to finish up this generator as you made your way towards the person you can hear still struggling. Thank goodness you found the med pack on the way there and it looks like you made it just in time to save Steve. You got him off the hook and started making quick work on healing him, “hey kiddo, sorry I didn’t get here that fast-” “It’s ok, you got me. That’s all that matters,” he said. You’ve always had a soft spot for the younger ones here as it must be so hard being in a place like this, plus they were pretty nice kids so you took on the older sibling role for them.

Finally finishing with healing Steve, you guys got up and you were about to guide him to a generator to work on when you felt your heart rate increase. You both made eye contact and ran off in a random direction together just trying to escape the vicinity. You could hear and feel the heavy footsteps of the killer and immediately knew it was your monster man. That doesn’t change the fact that he would still do his job and hook you. Steve was just ahead of you when you pointed out the palette making him go in that direction with you still right behind him and Pyramid Head trudging behind you. However, you don’t think Steve knew that you were in close proximity because he dropped the palette on top of you. You groaned in pain and Pyra did not have the best reaction to you getting hurt by someone else. He nearly roared in rage when he broke the palette that was on top of you. Steve didn’t even get the chance to apologize before you told him to run.

Pyra leaned down to lift you up enough to sit you against the wall. You had blood dripping down from a small cut on your forehead. Pyramid Head was about to go after Steve when you grabbed his free arm and started rambling out, “wait! H-He didn’t mean to hurt me, big guy. It was an accident, he would never do that on purpose.” Pyra could hear the honesty in your tone and he rested his hand against your cheek and brushed his thumb against your cheekbone. “It’s ok bub. Give me a minute and you can hook me, ok?” He let out a little groan as his tongue poked out the open corner of the pyramid and caressed your other cheek. You both knew the deal when in a trial together and he always hooked you just to get you out of the trial faster. Not many survivors make it out when he’s the killer and he doesn’t want you to go through the stress of these trials. Although, for now, he’s going to bask in this small moment with you.

Anyways lmk what y’all think!! Requests are closed! You can put in a request but anything after 3/15 is going to take a little while

[pupyuj]

g!p ive (ot5 ofc) with a spoiled brat girlfriend 🫣🫣 how'd you think they'd deal with that?

g!p ive + brat taming?? THANK YOU FOR PUTTING THIS IN MY HEAD ANON 🤤‼️‼️

[cw: impact play (+ the usual g!p stuff but this is the one i wanted to warn you guys on)]

gaeul is a professional atp. between you and her more childish members, she gets a lot of practice!! so she doesn't really get bothered a lot when you start acting up bcs she knows the night will end with you going from an annoying brat to her obedient little girl 😊 BUT! there are times when gaeul just can't seem to get a hold of you no matter how many times she scolds you and threatens you,, like that one time you just became the bane of her existence for no reason at all?? disobeying her, ignoring her, and when you did talk to her, you put up such an attitude that gaeul just snapped and grabbed you by your hair??? "you'll know not to talk to me like that, slut." n then she's throwing you on the bed, spanking your ass and your cunt with floggers n riding crops until your skin is red and you're crying :(( and it doesn't even end there!! you're sobbing and begging for her to stop hitting you while she's got her cock splitting you open :(( you're apologizing over and over, only letting out pained cries when gaeul only forces more of her length deeper inside you 😔 you were never too much of a bad girl after that!!

yujin can tame you surprisingly well 🤭🤭 when you start acting up, she can bribe you with promises of fucking you the way you want her to 😤 but only as long as you're a good girl!! you don't keep your end of the deal most of the time of course bcs you want to get under yujin's skin. why? well! after spending a whole night of being touchy with other people and almost kissing someone, yujin likes to push you down on your knees and use your mouth as she pleases 😊 holding onto your hair with a tight grip, moving your head back and forth on her thick cock,, sometimes pulling you off to ask you if it was all worth making her angry and getting annoyed when you say yes,, slapping you across the cheek with her other hand before forcing her cock in your mouth again :((( coming all over your face and your tits several times but it's not enough of a punishment, so she uses your mouth for what seems like hours,, laughing down at you when you started riding her shoe, desperate for your own release but she would never give it to you until she's satisfied :(( she would willingly exhaust herself using your mouth before she would try to give a damn about what you needed 😣 you were pretty sure that you got fucked out so good and rough that night that you became her good girl for days 😳

rei is actually very tolerant and lenient when it comes to you 😭😭 like whenever you're teasing her and make jokes about sleeping with or kissing other people, rei just giggles and is like "oh really~?" 😭 she finally takes you seriously when she sees you dancing with someone at a party and letting them touch you,, but like you're so mean bcs rei was already having a bad day and there your annoying ass go making it worse 🤨 rei dragging you towards her car and practically shoving you in the passenger seat.. she doesn't touch you while she's driving,, but as soon as she parked the car in the garage, she was all over you,,, but not in a way you expected... she grabbed your jaw, her sharp nails hurting your cheek,, and she was berating you about how much of a slut you were to be letting people other than your girlfriend touch you inappropriately :((( and ofc you're talking back 😭 blaming rei bcs of her "stupid mood swings" and then getting bold and telling her that "you don't care anymore" because "her cock isn't evem that big" and OH YEAH.. SHE HAS HAD IT WITH YOU 😭😭😭😭

surprisingly strong rei forcing you to sit on her lap despite your resistance,, "my cock isn't that big? mine?? the one you're always drooling over in the mornings?? the one you're always fucking begging me to ruin you with???" she ripped your panties right off of you,, and she lifts you up before pulling out her dick and crashing you back down on top of her 🫣 screaming and sobbing as rei completely controlled your body,, forcing you to ride her in full speed and balls deep inside your tight cunt :((( your ass so red bcs she was spanking you, calling you all the mean names,,,, you're saying sorry over and over again, saying that you didn't mean it but rei doesn't care! the only way you could make it up to her is by letting her use your cunt all night, and that's exactly what she forces you to do :(((( but like.. super soft aftercare the morning after where rei is applying ointment on the places where she hit you, bathing with you bcs you can't walk, feeding you, and making you lay on her chest all day 💔

wonyoung is what happens when you pair up a bratty dom with a bratty sub 😭😭 you're both constantly trying to out-brat each other in your own ways :((( you're grinding up against other people on the dance floor while wony is basically feeling up a girl while looking at you, knowing it pisses you off </3 BUT NOBODY CHEATS!!! you're just playing with each other's heads!! even when the two of you do seemingly 'severe' things to rile each other up, neither of you would like, kiss someone else or literally fuck someone else!! bcs no matter what, you and wony are faithful to each other, and you love one another like no other!!! but sometimes you really do take it too far :((( one day you let someone pull you away from wonyoung's sights, and she immediately assumed the worst bcs the two of you argued before attending this stupid party ☹️☹️ you were doing your usual thing, just trying to poke fun at wony, but you disappeared for a long time and wony just got really angry when you returned to her :(( as soon as you got back to your shared apartment, wony was pulling you by your hair to the bedroom :((( "you wanna get fucked that bad, huh? going as far as to cheat on me in front of my face??? fine then, (y/n). i'll give you what you want. i'll fuck you until you're sick of it." omg her slapping you when you try to explain that you didn't cheat on her bcs you loved wony so much, you would never do that!!! but she's so angry that she doesn't believe you :(( she's making you scream while pounding your asshole but she's the one that's crying,,, "i can't b-believe you, (y/n)," and "i never thought you would do that to me..." she fucks you until your hole was gaping, waves of her cum leaking out of it... still sobbing but she keeps on fucking you :((

flipping you over and attacking your cunt next,,, "y-y-you think she's better than me?? did you like her cock more?? am i not the one that fucks you the best, (y/n)??" she's asking all these questions and you're answering her honestly but she's so mad that she doesn't care if you're telling the truth :((( she just calls you a liar and fucks you full of her cum :(((( "i'm making sure that it's my baby that's inside you... not hers..." wony definitely breeds you all night!!! believing that if she gets you pregnant, then you'll never want to leave her for another girl 😣

liz never fucking knows what to do with you tbfh 😭😭😭 she's timid, soft-spoken... what is she supposed to do with a brat like you???? so most of the times she just mopes when you're acting out that you feel bad🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️but if she's heated enough, she can get a little scary! she's holding your wrist super tightly, telling you to behave through gritted teeth, and berates you in your ear if you decide to be annoying in public skdjfhdif completely different from the shy lizzy that you knew 🥺 but you start seeing her in a completely different light when you caught her in a bad day 🫢 you wore a skimpy outfit without her permission, and she got sooo mad bcs a lot of perverts were staring at your ass the whole night :(( meanie lizzy punishing you by deciding that you don't get to come at all while she's fucking you :((( she's fingering you so good, hitting all the right spots with her skilled fingers but she pulls out every time you clench around her 😵‍💫 n it's worse when she uses her cock 😩 liz is so thick, she fits in your tight hole just right and it feels soooo fucking good when she's pounding into you,, but she does the same thing—she denies you of your orgasm and laughs at your tears :((

"you want me to make you come?? me? i thought you wanted those other people's cocks inside you... letting them see you like that in such an outfit.. i thought you wouldn't need me..." she was saying :(( but you keep shaking your head, telling her that you only want her cock and no one else's but liz can be soooo mean 🥲🥲 she edges you all night, not caring about how loud and desperate you were begging her to just let you come once, just once!! but you should have known bad girls don't get forgiven so easily...

[bandsofmarv]

can you do a steve smut enemies to lovers related?

Thank you for the request! I actually had one ready to post this evening! Here we go :)

Bitter edges of Steve

After a disastrous mission Steve and you finally confront the tension between each other.

TW- not really any, slight smut, angst.

The door slammed shut behind you, rattling the rusted hinges. You barely had time to take a breath before Steve Rogers stormed in after you, his boots heavy on the concrete floor. His face was a mask of barely contained rage, his blue eyes sharp enough to cut.

“What the hell was that?” he snapped, his voice low and dangerous, the kind of tone that made lesser men cower. But not you.

You turned to face him, matching his glare with one of your own. “It was me getting the job done, Rogers. Someone had to, and you sure as hell weren’t stepping up.”

His laugh was cold, humorless. “Stepping up? You mean disobeying orders, blowing our cover, and nearly getting yourself killed? That’s what you call stepping up?”

“You hesitated,” you shot back, refusing to back down even as he advanced toward you. “You always hesitate. I did what had to be done, and you’re pissed because you didn’t get to play the hero this time.”

He closed the distance between you in a flash, his jaw tight and his fists clenched at his sides. “You think this is about my ego?” he snarled, his voice dripping with contempt. “This is about you being a reckless, insufferable pain in my ass who can’t follow orders to save their life.”

“I don’t follow your orders,” you spat, stepping closer to him despite the warning in his eyes. “And I’m not your responsibility, so stop acting like you care.”

He barked out a sharp, bitter laugh, his head shaking as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Care? You think I care about you?” His words were a knife to the gut, sharp and cruel. “You’re nothing but a liability. A thorn in my side I should’ve dealt with a long time ago.”

The venom in his voice made your chest ache, but you refused to let him see it. You squared your shoulders, meeting his fury with your own. “Then why don’t you?” you challenged, your voice shaking with barely restrained anger. “Why don’t you deal with me, Steve? Why do you keep coming after me, cleaning up my messes? If I’m such a liability, why the hell are you still here?”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his chest rising and falling with the force of his breathing. Then, without warning, he grabbed your arm and yanked you forward, his face inches from yours.

“You want to know why?” he growled, his voice low and rough. “Because you drive me insane. Because every time I look at you, I want to throw you against a wall and—” He stopped himself, his jaw clenching as he tried to rein in his temper.

“Do it,” you whispered, your voice trembling, though not from fear.

His eyes darkened, his grip on your arm tightening. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”

“Don’t I?” you shot back, your breath hitching as his body pressed against yours, backing you into the wall.

For a second, you thought he might actually walk away, leave you there to stew in the silence. But then his lips crashed against yours, rough and demanding, his hands gripping your waist with bruising force. The kiss was a battle—hot, messy, and unrelenting, years of pent-up frustration and anger spilling out all at once.

“Still think I don’t care?” he muttered against your lips, his voice a dangerous growl.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you kissed him back just as fiercely, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. His hands roamed your body, possessive and unyielding, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

When he pulled back, his eyes burned into yours, a mixture of anger and something darker, something that made your knees weak. “You make me crazy,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You make me want things I shouldn’t want, make me feel things I shouldn’t feel. I hate it. I hate you.”

“Good,” you breathed, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Because I hate you too.”

His lips curled into a dark, almost cruel smile. “Prove it.”

Before you could respond, he was kissing you again, his mouth hot and relentless as his hands slid beneath your shirt. He lifted you effortlessly, pinning you against the wall as his lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice rough as his hands gripped your thighs, holding you firmly in place. “Say you hate me.”

“I hate you,” you gasped, though your voice trembled with need.

He laughed softly, the sound dripping with satisfaction. “Liar.”

His hand slid higher, his touch rough and unrelenting, and you couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped your lips. His mouth found yours again, swallowing your gasps as he pressed himself harder against you, the line between hate and desire blurring until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

The rest of the world faded away as you surrendered to him, the weight of your shared anger and frustration dissolving into something raw and primal. This was no fairytale, no perfect resolution—but in that moment, with his body pressed against yours and his lips claiming every inch of you, it was enough.

For now, it was enough.

[thechaoticplayer]

The Confident Student Council President 🔞

Author's note: had this sitting in my drafts for about 2 weeks... giggling and twirling hair- this didnt come out exactly the way I want it but I guess I'll cope + ratio

Summary: your stupid ahh male friend asks you to get the shoulder pads (that he forgot) for football practice. however, you werent expecting the student council president to be inside, the man you've been crushing on for quite some time now...

Contains: x reader, Dom! Ver Vermillion, him being super demanding and sweet at the same time, this was inspired by his fucking shower stream (I WAS SCREAMING), theres a bit of plot, praise, smut yet again it's not even a surprise anymore

VER VERMILLION was something to admire. In class, he had a sense of authority to him, but never abused the power he was bestowed with. He was very gentle but stern, like an mature older brother. Ver had no problem putting someone in their place, and it put you in awe of him. You quietly watched him from afar. Noticed every tiny detail about him.

Ver's hands. They're so pretty, but with a single gesture, he could make the whole room silent.

Ver's voice. Calm and low, still somehow heard over the ruckus of the classroom. When he raised his voice in the slightest, everyone knew to shut up.

Ver's smile. He was constantly smiling. A soothing smile that put everyone at ease. He could easily charm anyone within a 10 feet radius with his smile alone.

Ver's face. Sometimes an expression of relief, of slight irritation, of slight happiness. You wondered what expression he'd make if you littered his face with kisses. then you quickly shook the idea out of your head, because it was highly unlikely of ever occurring.

Everyone knew who Ver Vermillion was. Hardly anyone knows you, never the less know of your existence. You were content with that, because you could never be someone near as popular as Ver. Besides, you weren't anything much, just another valedictorian who gets asked the answers to questions.

Speaking of which...

A classmate leans over to your desk, where you sit scrawling down notes. "Psst. Hey."

An internal sigh. "Yes?"

He glances at the teacher before looking back at you. "Do you have the answer to number four?"

"Yes. Right here." You point to your sheet and angle it to him, where he stares for a good moment and nods.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Back to being ignored again. Not that you minded.

Your attention shifts back to the council president. He was nearly in every single class you had, which you were grateful for. It was nice to observe him. Not in a creepy way. Thatd be weird.

Ver speaks with a student to his left, a small smile on his face, eyes twinkling mysteriously. You pondered what went on that head of his. He had to deal with students almost all the time. How did he deal with it all? Especially the annoying ones. God, what a pain in the ass.

You didn't realize you were staring at Ver until he glances in your direction, eyes locking for a split second. Fear and embarrassment flash through your body as you jerk your head back down, as if you weren't awkwardly staring at the man not too long ago. This happened frequently, to your dismay. Always staring and always caught. No way to escape the council president.

Did he think you were a freak for doing so? maybe.

You didn't look up the rest of the class period.

With a swing of your bag, you hold the bag on one shoulder, adjusting the strap to your liking. You push in the chair and weave through the stream of people out the classroom. You were on your way to meet with a close friend of yours, the only person you considered a "friend" anyway.

He was doing his football practice today, which you usually always came to. You had nothing else better to do anyway. He contrasted your introverted side, him being such a people pleaser. It wasn't a surprise that others began to ship you two together. But you two were just friends. Nothing more. Besides, you had eyes on someone else. And your friend knew that. Constantly teasing about your red cheeks everytime you were in close proximity with Ver. Each time earned him a "shut up!" And a punch to the shoulder.

A small bzzt vibrates in your pocket. With another series of buzzes to go with it. You paw through the one hundred millions of things in your pockets before pulling out the desired object. Your screen lights up to reveal texts from... well speak of the devil.

Hey uh... ik ur on ur way to my practice, but could you get my shoulder pads for me?

I totally forgot abt them

Hurry up coach is gonna kill me

How the fuck did this kid forget one of the most important things of playing such a violent sport? Space cadet...

You respond with a quick "yea" before scurrying off towards the direction of the boys' locker room. You actually had to shove past a couple of people, which you hated to do because that's being an asshole, but you also didn't want your friend to get yelled at by his strict coach.

You halt at door, furtively searching around the place before just rushing inside. You don't need any speculation on your plate along with huge packets of work. Upon seeing no one, you sneak inside.

Now which locker has his stuff in it? You quickly tap out the question and send it. You look around frantically, the "delicious" scent of sweaty men in the air. God, they need some damn air freshener.

You open each locker and judge from the sport bag which one was his. He wasn't answering, causing the anxiety to rise steadily. You really didn't want to get caught in here.

Deciding to calm yourself, you pause and recollect your thoughts. Clearing your mind, your ears pick up the sound of running water. Confused, you approach the sound. Did one of them forget to turn off the faucet? But it sounded more of a shower on, and as you approached, steam exited out the doorway of which you presumed was the showers.

You scratch your head. Who would be in here? All the boys are already outside. Who the hell would be showering right now anyway? One of these football heads must've left the shower on.

You peek inside, squinting through the steam. That has to be some hot water. You peer through the some to see a lean figure under the shower head. The steam clears a bit and your eyes widen.

Rivulets of water roll down his skin, spiraling down from his chest, down his abs, to his thighs, down his sculpted calves. He raises his arms up to run his fingers through his hair, his back muscles rippling with the motion. His arms aren't extremely muscular, but you could tell he worked out. You only could see him from the back, as your gaze traveled further down, your face felt extremely hot and a hundred million thoughts went through your mind.

Ver Vermillion.

You were... spying on the student council president. in the shower.

Oh god. In the shower. He was so...

Fucking hot.

You skitter back, almost slipping on the tile and banging your head against the changing stalls. A hand pressed to your mouth to keep you from screeching. Emotional moment. very fucking emotional. Suppressing your urge to scream on the top of your lungs because oh my god? Thousand hundred question marks?

You hurry back to the locker area, ramming your shoulder hard into a locker after taking a turn too fast. You hiss in pain, rubbing your shoulder.

"Hello?" Ver's voice calls. You curse yourself. "Is someone there?"

Nope nope. You're Casper.

You run into the other hall of lockers as the sound of water slapping tile approaches. You cease breathing through your fingers, your heart like a jack rabbit in your chest. You press your back into the metal, wishing you could just melt into the locker.

"I know you're in here. I can feel the prescence of a soul."

Sheeeeesh... was there anyway of escaping this? you eye the only exit, the only one you entered through. If you sprinted, would he be able to make out your face? He'd probably wouldn't even recognize your back; you weren't anyone extremely memorable or anything.

"Don't even try to run. I'll catch you," Ver says, voice light. "Might as well show yourself."

You sigh, concluding the fact you could not escape unscathed. You edge closer towards the corner of the wall, peering over to look at Ver.

A hand clutching the towel around his waist, he watches you reveal yourself with a flash of surprise and was that recognition? before it was replaced with a stern look.

"Would you like to tell me what you're doing in the boys' locker room?" Ver questions, seemingly not minding the fact he was practically naked. Way too confident to be okay with the presence of a female in his midst. which was very attractive. But not the point.

Your cheeks burn. "...my friend, who is on the boys' football team, forgot his shoulder pads." You tried not to stare for too long.

You shift your weight from foot to foot as he raises a skeptical brow at you. "Why couldn't he get it himself?"

"He's already on the field," you answer lamely. "Plus his coach... is mean."

Ver walks and pauses in front of you, holding a hand up near your chest. You stare, confused. He seems to be studying something before closing his hand. "You aren't trying to be deceitful. However..."

"Yes?" You swallow, the heat becoming unbearable. You could feel the heat resonate off him. A throbbing ache between your legs cause you to squeeze your legs together.

Ver's eyes darken, the hand now cupping your chin. "I can feel your desire. for me."

Hellllloooooo?

Your breath catches, unusable to look away from his startling gaze. "Uh..."

"You've been watching me. You always seem to be looking out for me without knowing. That small box of mochi, my favorite... that was you, wasn't it? And the line of students trying to ask me questions were suddenly cut in half, stating that their questions were answered by someone else." Ver observes your facial expression and you can't help but break eye contact. "I see."

"I can explain?" You whisper quietly, your skin flaming at his touch.

"You can, and you will. You see, I've been watching you as well. I've caught on to you, so I decided to watch you. Always helping others, without wanting anything back. Willing to do anything to help me because..." Ver pauses. "Why?"

"Because..." you falter. Might as well spit it out, right? You gulp again. "Because..."

His eyes bore into you, and it wasn't helping. Maybe he didn't need to know after all?

"Why don't you show me?"

"...What?"

"Show me why."

You stare at the council president. What exactly was he asking? Then it clicked. Oh. But... you couldn't dare to-

Could you?

Just this once. Life is short, right? and he's so close...

You slowly rise onto your toes, closing the distance between you and Ver. Before your nose touches you stop suddenly, the anxiety and nervousness causing you to halt. What if this was a mistake? what if he didn't want to kiss you? what if this isn't what he meant at all? What if-

A small groan exits his lips as Ver grabs the back of your head and pulls you close until his mouth finds yours. Your eyes widen with a gasp and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth.

You whine softly, letting go of all the worries and throw your arms around him tightly. Ver groans once more, his hands gripping your hips as the hot make-out session continues, inappropriate wet sounds echoing through the room.

You stutter backwards and your back hits the locker and continue, tongues dancing together as Ver tugs on your shirt. You pull away, pulling the shirt over your head, and smash your lips against his once more.

Ver's hands roam all over your torso, sliding up your waist to your back, unclipping your bra but not removing it.

He breathes against your neck, "Is this what you want?"

"Yes," you reply, just as breathless.

"Are you sure?" Ver gazes into your eyes, searching for the affirmative.

You nod, leaning to his face to nip at his bottom lip.

He explodes.

Ver throws the bra away with a low growl, biting your neck and eliciting a quiet moan from you. You unbuckle your own pants, the pants dropping down to the floor as Ver sucks love bites all over your delicate skin. One hand fondling your breast, his thumb lightly skimming your tit and a stammered breath escapes you.

"Your tits are already hard," Ver notes, pinching one of them and making you squeal, flushing horribly. "I wonder if..."

A finger presses itself against your clothed cunt and you whimper, holding onto his shoulders tightly. Ver sighs, rubbing circles on your sensitive area.

"I can feel how soaking wet you are... this whole time, you wanted me this bad?" He chuckles quietly, enjoying the way your legs quiver in anticipation. "I'll show you how much I want you too."

His finger slides underneath your panties and meets your clit. You gasp, biting you lip as the council president works his magic on your wet pussy, his ministrations causing you to whimper. Ver kisses your neck, mumbling praises against your skin.

"You're doing such a good job..." Ver whispers, two fingers inside you now and you moan. He pumps the two in and out quickly, his long fingers almost kissing your g-spot and it makes it harder for you to hold yourself up. "Good girl..."

You whimper louder. "Please..."

"Please what, sweetheart?" Ver purrs, somehow increasing speed and your moans increase in volume. "Are you going to cum?"

You nod quickly, the ache growing tenfold. But then he stopped. You open your mouth to ask but when he rips your panties. You squeak in surprise as he hoists you up, your legs instinctively locking around his hips. Ver's towel audibly drops to the floor.

Ver's tip nudges against your hole. He looks at you. "May I?"

"Y-yes," you stammer, burying your face into his neck.

His tip nudges into you, entering completely and bottoms out, groaning. You moan loudly, your walls clenching around his hot cock. He filled you up completely and tears blur your vision slightly. Ver stretched you out deliciously, and he started to thrust in and out.

His nails dig into your hips as he slots his hips up against yours, grunting in your ear and leaving sloppy kisses all over you. Ver kisses you deeply, swallowing your noises as your juices stick between your bodies. You felt extremely warm all over.

His cock drags in and out your walls, pressing against the spot repeatedly. Pleasure racks your body. You rake your nails across his back, toes curled as the council president rams himself into you. The metal door groans against the movement.

"Shit..." Ver mumbles with a small groan. His dick throbs hard inside you as you clench around him. "I'm so close baby, s' close..."

A small whine as the only response you give as you squeeze your legs around him, the only indication of your incoming orgasm. He speeds up, panting hard.

"Cum with me, sweetheart, cum with me," he speaks in one breath.

You nod, lips parted as you lean your head back against the locked. "Yesyesyesyes-"

His seed ribbons inside as your own cum squirts all over his cock, a soft and drawn out moan in your hair as his hips stutter against you. Your legs limp as your chest rises up and down quickly, sweat shining on your skin. It felt awfully sticky down there, but you didn't mind one bit when Ver looked up at you with a soft and affectionate gaze.

He brushes the hair plastered to your forehead away and says softly, "you're so beautiful, you know that?"

"I..." You blush, leaning into his touch. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Let's clean you up." Still inside you, probably because the man didn't want to pull out just quite yet, he carries you to the showers to wash you up.

THE NEXT DAY...

Ver smiles at you from across the room and you wave, blushing hard. The both of you were officially dating after the... well. Burst of sudden confession you two did.

Your friend, however, was extremely awkward around you and Ver. He was constantly avoiding yours and the president's gaze for some odd reason. You have been meaning to ask him, so you lean close to him.

"Hey, you've been acting weird. What's up? Is it because I didn't get your shoulder pads and got in trouble?" You tease with a small smile.

The tips of his ears go red as he stares down at his desk. "About that..." he clears his throat. "I... did try to get them but..."

Realization hits you in the face like a brick wall. Your entire skin takes on a pink hue. "You-"

"Yeahhhh. I should've stayed put honestly..."

"Oh. My. god."

"Not that I care or anything. Go get some girl, I guess."

"Please shut up."

"Sounds like you two were getting into it pretty-"

You punch him. Hard. A yelp of pain satisfies you and Ver looks over at you two, startled. you smile sweetly.

Greatest two days of your life.

[coeurify]

so many fics have the reader getting mad at ellie for getting into a fight with someone that flirted with you, but what if instead the reader gets turned on and y’all fuck all night 🤭🤭 (i would be so turned on if someone punched someone for me BYEEE)

ohhh anon i get you.. of course everyone in Jackson knew Ellie had a temper, one that was usually not tested. Many residents had been subjected to dirty looks or an awfully mouthy response from the woman many a times. So people chose to be careful around her, not exactly wanting to deal with a twenty-something-year old who had a mouth worse than a sailor. It was oh so much worse when it came to you. No one could say shit about you if she was around. Or not around. Somehow, like a second-sense or something, she always knew. Hell, El had nearly punched Seth once for just hearing he called you a name, but Jesse pulled her back.

This particular time however, on the wooden porch on the main street of Jackson.. Jesse wasn’t around to pull Ellie back, and no one had warned a particularly flirty new girl to stay away from you. Well… it didn’t end well. In fact it ended with the new girl on her ass, hand cupping a nose that bled crimson all over the wooden floor, screeching like a banshee at your girlfriend.

Your girlfriend who stood above her with her eyebrows pinched together, cheek bruised from a long patrol. Ellie was not in the mood to deal with anyone, and fists always seemed to come before words with her.. so this girl calling you “hot,” and offering you a drink at the Tipsy Bison.. just did not slide for the auburn haired girl. That fist had wasted no time in connecting with her stupid fucking nose, right there in front of ten or more older residents who looked on in a mixture of concern and expectance. Really that girl brought it on herself.

You followed every movement from that moment, irises pulled by an invisible string to watch Ellie make the rash decision, one you should pull her back from.. maybe even yell a little at her for making a scene. But instead of any anger creeping up your body, you feel something a little heavier. As Ellie pulls back her slightly reddened knuckles, muttering swears under her breath.. you feel absolutely anything but anger. Sure, maybe a little embarrassment from the old women who make disgusted faces as the woman below Ellie whines in pain, but definitely not anger. Something swirled low in your belly as green eyes searched for your own

Your lips part lightly, unsure of what to say, especially when the hand that had just taken the woman down moves to wrap around your arm, tightening enough to grab your attention away from where you had began to stare at the puddle of dripping blood collecting on the porch. Ellie dragged you away from the scene, stomping like someone throwing a fit.

“The fucking nerve on that— that girl, calling you.. calling my girl hot.. who does she think she is?” Ellie scoffed, looking over at your still glazed over eyes as you stumble along with her. The possessive tone in her voice only made this creeping sensation on your skin worse. The lack of a response has Ellie frowning, “Shit.. babe did are you mad? I just couldn’t hel-”

“No.. no,” you cut her off quickly, tongue swiping over your lip as you finally conjure up words— stepping onto the dirt trail that led to your Jackson home. “I’m not upset. Honestly, i think it was kinda hot,” you admit slowly, nose crinkling lightly in embarrassment.

Ellie’s mouth fell open.. because truthfully she had never gotten that response from one of her.. bursts. “Hot?” she repeated, gaining a little head nod from you. Her cheeks flush, one corner of her lip poking up like she may smile, “Get inside.”

You wasted no time in clambering up the steps to the door, and by the time the door is open.. Ellie is already all over you.

[lightofraye]

Friday the 15th

Despite the title of this post, no I'm not trying to make a kind of scary Friday the 13th (15th) thing. More... I have a huge life event coming up and the anxiety is getting to me.

It's a natural anxiety. When someone goes through something huge, they react in various ways. For a wedding, for example, it's a tremendous step. If they're 100% certain in that step, it's full of joy and perhap anxiety something will go wrong with the ceremony as opposed to anxiety about the person they're marrying. Moving across country can be anxiety inducing, despite the excitement and prospect of something new experiences.

Then there's surgery. Even the most minor of surgeries can be anxiety inducing because of what could go wrong. When I had a deviated septum fixed, the doctor actually outlined how it was a basic, minor surgery with potential for a lot of bad happening. So, you know, yay?

Now I have a new, terrifying surgery coming up. It's a necessary surgery, one that I had been forced to reschedule due to getting infected with influenza A just mere days prior. I was so sick that I was down and out of work for six weeks. It affected my voice (I still hear it time to time), my breathing, and I still wonder about the lingering symptoms I have. (Hard to tell if it's allergies or lingering influenza, honestly. But all tests say I'm fine, so...)

This surgery had been a long time coming. My doctor and I had been observing the symptoms, the cause of said symptoms, and it was only late last year that I decided it was time. The minor means of dealing with the issue weren't possible because the issue was too large--and those minor means were 1) extremely painful and 2) doesn't stop the issues from coming back.

I'm being very vague. So I'll say it outright now. What's the issue I'm referring to? Fibroids. Uterine fibroids, to be precise.

I had the issue start well over five years ago. Little minor symptoms that kept happening... and then kept staying. To the point where I gave up and tracked down my ob gyn because my mother had those symptoms that led to cervical cancer and I was not going to leave my young son alone to face his abusive father on his own.

Turned out, it wasn't cervical cancer. Or even uterine cancer. (Thank gods.) No... it was a fibroid. A growing fibroid, actually. Already by the time it was detected, a myomectomy was impossible. That'd work for small fibroids, and mine was already beyond the acceptable size. An ablation wasn't possible either, as the fibroid meant spots would be missed and the symptoms would continue.

My ob gyn had to refer me to a different ob gyn for a very simple, frustrating reason: it was a Catholic hospital and any treatment that'd work to stop the issues of the fibroid was against their policies.

Fortunately I found a great ob gyn and she agreed with my other ob gyn. We inserted a Mirena IUD to handle the biggest symptom--ongoing bleeding--and decided to monitor every six months. Every six months, it showed signs of growing. And growing.

Then it... stopped. So we decided that as long as the IUD was stopping the bleeding and I was doing okay, we'd just do a wait and see.

Well... late last year, it was getting worse again. Other symptoms appeared, too TMI for comfort, but let's say the bathroom and I were becoming too well acquainted.

So a hysterectomy was scheduled. It was supposed to have been the first week of April and I got hit with influenza late March. We waited until I felt better and other life events got sorted. We thought I'd be okay.

I was wrong. So very wrong.

I called my ob gyn and said "We need it out. It's getting painful." The fibroid was creating problems that are affecting me body-wide. Minor from weird ass chin hairs that were growing thick and repeatedly, something I never had before. (The fibroid is disrupting hormones on a very wide scale, much like PCOS.) To intense discomfort in my lower abdomen.

What's interesting are the other irrational thoughts happening. It's a discussing having been held before by other women who have also undergone such similar procedures.

Am I any less a woman for losing the uterus? The answer, naturally, is NO. Even if I were to lose my breasts as well as my uterus, I'm still a woman. Because I say I'm a woman. I lose pieces of the body to maintain the whole.

My health will be so much better for the loss of the uterus, especially as the fibroid will be gone and things settle on multiple layers. Hormones will be back to normal (after some disruption). The pain and discomfort will be gone. I presume that weird chin hair that keeps coming back will finally surrender the ghost.

Even so, it's a major life step. A major surgery that, thankfully, has become more routine. We're planning on using the daVinci Surgical System and hope no issues will occur. It's actually outpatient now, which has me stunned.

My daughter and daughter-in-law will monitor me after the surgery. The next few weeks after, I'll have to be careful with even light objects--I won't be allowed to lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk. (That's about 8 pounds, by the way.) That'll be frustrating for me, as I do a lot of heavy lifting on the regular.

But my health will be better. Eventually I'll heal. Eventually I'll celebrate no more purchases of hygiene products. I joked we'll have a "Yeet the Uterus" party, but we just might.

I'll never have to worry about unplanned pregnancies again, so that's something. Yes, even at my age, it can happen.

November the 15th is going to be a big day for me.

[glassrowboat]

Lounge Music. Gallagher.

Summary: A bar singer, that's all she was supposed to be, but instead, the girl became a right pain in his ass with every passing day as Gallagher only grows fonder and fonder of her.

Word count: 1600+

Written pre-release.

The plan, originally anyhow, was to improve the atmosphere. The bar has its regulars, the patrons that always come crawling back, but being able to draw more people on with something new has its benefits. That's what Gallagher was thinking anyway as he posted a ‘we're hiring’ sign right out front for a singer willing to work in a bar.

At first he was expecting wide eyed young ladies coming through hoping to get any shot at being on stage, to have their voice heard, and admittedly that is what he got in a way. Only two applicants showed up. A bubbly little thing who was excitedly talking about using this to make her big break and the other girl who’s first impression was to sit down and tell him he will hire her.

Well, it certainly left an impression. Enough of one to tell Gallagher that she would be a pain in his behind if he did hire her, and oh boy was he right.

○He does not appreciate your constant teasing about him looking like the type of guy to call a girl dame, especially as you pretend to hold a cigarette up to your lips to take a long drag to really sell the bit. Worst part is when he went home that night, hand ruffling through his hair in pure exhaustion as he closed the front door right behind him only to be met by his tired and worn expression and Gallagher couldn't even deny you had a point. Dammit.

○Though on that note the bar used to be a smoke where you want place as he didn't see the point in knocking that behavior out of his customers when Gallagher is guilty of such behavior himself, but that changed after you were hired. A smoking section specifically being set up in the part of the bar furthest from the stage, the sign something he taps out now when he sees a customer pull out a lighter. Did he do this because you wouldn't stop pretending to cough every time he lit a cigarette for himself? Maybe. At least it gets you to stop being so dramatic every five seconds. 

○You've introduced him to more music and artists than not. Gallagher had gotten so used to the radio playing the same few songs again and again on repeat that he'd be sick of them, so when you came in with something new ( that you're playing on his phone for some reason rather than your own) it was more like a godsend than anything. Finally, some variety.

○Gallagher will always make sure you have a glass of water right beside you in case you ever need it. He's not sure how much of a strain singing all night would even put on you, but it's definitely something, right? Especially when you have to do exercises before even going out there. 

○He won't make a remark about how your voice sounds a little hoarse after each night, not even once, but if your voice cracks one time while you're singing it's going to be held over your head for weeks. Payback is a bitch and you have to deal with it. Not like it will stop your teasing though.

○Gal will not entertain your requests to sing with you, not even as you try to drag him on stage. Funny that you thought it'd even work, but good on you for having goals. Any time you ask it's always met with an “I hired you for a reason.”

○He does not keep up with trends at all so if you decide to sing a tik tok song it will fly right over this man's head. Use this information as you will.

○You're allowed to hide behind the bar if you ever feel the need to. He'll even keep an eye on you between the drinks he makes and customers coming up with orders to make sure no one is bothering you. At first he only did this as he tried to figure out how people would respond to this change, trying to see if they liked the live music or not, but somehow it just became second nature over time. Well, maybe not ‘somehow.’ More like when he noticed you cussing someone who was clearly a few drinks too many in pestering you. 

○He has never heard a woman call another person a bitch in heat that needs to go fuck a lamppost so the can leave her alone until that day and he still finds himself laughing about it on a rare occasion.

○But yeah, anytime you want you're free to come hide behind the bar with him. It's more common than not on days when there's less people coming in, just a few faces that stick to their seats with a drink in hand as you pester him over something. Again. On one such day Gallagher took one of the drink shakers and tried to teach you a trick or two, the simplest ones he knows just to waste time. It shouldn't be that hard, right? Well that was apparently wrong as the shaker slipped out of your grasp and landed right on your head.

○It was a good thing he thought ahead and chose not to fill it with anything. 

○”You're a real clutz, aren't you?”

○And yes, Gallagher has spotted you tripping over the wire attached to the microphone more than once.

○Would walk you back to your car every night after cleaning up. It has led to you running around wiping off tables because you want to catch up on some drama you've been watching. He can't honestly keep up with the details of this show either. What do you mean this girl just ate poison and walked it off like it was nothing? Where's the context, (Y/n)?

○He never gets that context in the end.

○You get free drinks. He's more than happy to pull out a glass or mix something he's been testing out together for you even if Gallagher claims this will come out of your paycheck. It never does. 

○Now when Gallagher hears a new song a part of him can't help but wonder what it would sound like in your voice. It's worse on the days you're off, having to go back to the radio just to fill the air a bit more than just the chatter of customers and the sound of glass on wood as people set their drinks down a bit too harshly as the alcohol starts to flood into their systems. 

○Somehow, in some way, the days you're not there have just grown to feel wrong. 

Which is why it's all the better as you're back the next day, your same habit of swaying along with the beat the same as ever. Maybe he'd call you out for it later if you decided to say something weird again, but for now Gallagher simply leaned against the counter, hand raising up in a wave as someone walks through the door. Bell attached to the top of the doorframe swaying back and forth as it rings. Somehow it doesn't come across as melodic as it once did but it still draws his attention well enough. It serves its purpose, so no point getting rid of it.

“Welcome in,” he calls out, voice already getting a bit gruff from having to talk so late into the night.

In turn a familiar face greets Gallagher, an old regular that stopped dropping by sitting down in a stool before him as Gal wipes the surface off to make sure it wasn't sticky from any spilled drinks. “Been a while, hasn't it?”

“That it has. Come back here cause of another fight with the wife, James?” Something else you make fun of him for, acting as the good old fashioned bartender people come to to spill their woes. But hey, it pays the bills on his end and it's cheaper than therapy to buy a beer or two to come whining to him about what's going on. 

“You can say that again.”

“The usual?” Even as he asks that Gallagher is already grabbing a beer, James preferred brand as the familiar label flashes across His eye while popping off the bottle cap.

“Why ask if you already know?” Even with his need to roll his eyes, James picked the bottle up, bringing it up to his lips for a quick chug. “It's clearly been a while since I've been here. The woman up on the stage is new.”

“(Y/n).”

“Okay, (Y/n) is new.” James leaned back into his chair to look at the woman, watching as you toyed with the cable attached to the mic between your fingers, letting it go round and round in circles between each word sung. “It's an improvement I'd say. Makes this old place a bit more lively.”

“She's certainly become a bit of a fan favorite.” 

“One you can't take your eyes off of.”

Gallagher could barely help the sigh falling from his lips at that, not exactly enjoying being called out so blatantly. Maybe a smoke would be nice, get his mind off this stuff just like he's been doing these past few weeks whenever that mischievous smile sneaks its way into his mind. “Just drink.”

He can decide what this all means later, but for now Gallagher can sit back and listen to your voice flooding over the bar and just like always, as this place shuts down for the night, he'll walk you back to your car and pretend he doesn't want to do more than tell you to get home safe.

“Can I still tell you about what bull my wife said this time?”

“Yeah, yeah, man. Just go ahead.”

[warsamongthestars]

There's a nice lot of speculation and grumblings and gripping about clone accelerate aging. Like, because their years were cut in half, that must mean we're dealing with children.

... But mind something. Clones have gone through Puberty. Like, full puberty. As in by the time they're deployed, not only is puberty done with them, they're pretty done with it too.

They are full on adults. You don't get to adulthood without going through pains and terrors of puberty, and I imagine accelerate puberty is arguably far fucking worse than normal human puberty. They've probably experience a puberty that cannot be fathomed, with rapidly growing bones and muscles that make our growing pains feel like light discomfort, to the sheer agony they must've experienced. Eldritch body horror would probably be the aptest description of accelerated puberty. You wouldn't walk away from such a thing without be changed, and it ain't the new hair on your chest.

Now I grant you, there will be nativity. Being born and grown soldiers will certainly lack social graces and certain attitudes. There will be definitely information lost--but mind, being on a ocean planet on the ass end of the galaxy, with long neck frog people who don't know the first thing about how humans do their humaning, would make someone naive even if they grew up the old fashioned way. It'd be fish bowl naitivity.

But you don't reach adulthood without going through puberty. Every active duty clone we have ever met, has already gone through theirs and came out the other side--probably suffering the shell shock of it--but they have come out regardless.

And that writes them as Adults, if the soldiering didn't.

ADDENDUM

Nobody can tell me that Anakin Skywalker is more grown up than Captain Rex.

[ridiasfangirlings]

Hello, Ridia-san! Can I request a Siren Saru?

Saru is open about him being a siren, but most people don't know since they thought those behaviors of his were just part of his personality. Like taking a long ass bath like he owns the shower, avoiding cats (he is half fishy so- (poor neko), not bathing with other people, etc.

Suddenly a mission with other clans happens, and they need to infiltrate a building in the middle of the ocean. Unfortunately, the said ocean is dangerous and cannot be taken lightly, so they need another way to get it there without gaining the attention of other people. While discussing what they should do (more like fighting *ehem* Homra and Scepter 4), Saru grew impatient and decided to jump in the waters. Seeing this threw others into panic mode, but after a while, a head emerged from the water. It's Saruhiko. With his long hair and below his waist is this large, beautiful white to blue ombre tail that seems to glow under the sun. Seeing this seems to strike the others into silence and... (I'll leave the rest to you, Ridia-san! Hoping to see the reactions of the other clans + alphabet squad ^^)

I feel like Yata and Munakata would probably be the main two who know about this, because Yata lived with Fushimi for a while and Munakata is just creepy that way. Like imagine in this AU that mythical creatures are known to exist but it’s like a low key thing where they try to blend in with humans. Say Kisa was actually a siren, Niki caught her out of the water and convinced her to come live with him on land. After she gives birth to Fushimi (wait, would he have been hatched from an egg in this AU) she promptly returns to the ocean to get away from her shitty husband and Fushimi is left alone with Niki, who enjoys joking about making tasty fried fish out of his son. Fushimi doesn’t really try to hide that he’s a siren but he doesn’t talk about it either, he forges a note to get himself out of swimming in gym class and doesn’t talk to anyone about his true heritage because he doesn’t want to deal with being looked at like some kind of freak. 

Yata of course is the first one to really find out, like maybe this is the first time too that Fushimi’s been hesitant about letting anyone know his secret because he doesn’t want Misaki to reject him. Yata drags him to the beach one day though and maybe Yata ends up getting caught in like a rip tide or something and Fushimi dives in to save him, revealing his true form with beautiful glittering scales and a long elegant tail. Yata is amazed and immediately starts talking about how awesome this is, Saruhiko is even cooler than he thought, and suddenly being a siren doesn’t seem like such a bad thing. When they join Homra though imagine Fushimi feeling irritated at the idea of everyone knowing, like Totsuka suggests a beach trip and Yata’s ready to mention how cool Fushimi is in the water and Fushimi just shushes him and spends the whole time under an umbrella on the beach instead (Anna keeps giving him significant looks though, and when someone tries to hit him with a water gun she moves in front of him to intercept the splash).

Then he joins S4 and like the first thing Munakata does is wonder if Fushimi would like a private bath due to his ‘heritage,’ Fushimi gives him this suspicious look like I don’t even want to know how you know. He denies the special treatment though, the whole thing is too much of a pain and he doesn’t want to deal with annoying questions. Instead he always takes his baths alone and probably puts like a lock on the bath when he’s in there too, if anyone wants to come take one when he’s in the bath they have to get used to waiting a good hour or so. Some of the lower ranked members complain about it, that the brat from Homra is always hogging the bath, but Fushimi doesn’t care and Munakata just gives a secretive smile when he hears. Also imagine Fushimi being slightly nervous around Kamo and trying his best to hide it, he doesn’t have anything against Kamo it’s just he knows the guy was a sushi chef and Fushimi’s natural instincts make him tense up around that kind of person. 

The whole thing remains mostly a secret (I feel like Awashima finds out about it at some point too, and is briefly shocked before admirably recovering and resuming whatever mission they were on) until one day there’s a Strain issue that does require the squad to infiltrate an island in the middle of the ocean. This is post-ROK and Homra is helping out, though maybe Yata and Anna are elsewhere at the time and Kusanagi is in charge on that end. Munakata is pleased that their beach training paid off at last, the rest of the squad are more hesitant because they can all swim but this is a little more than just ‘swimming.’ Kusanagi doesn’t think sending their guys out into the ocean with just life vests is the best idea. He and Munakata are being passive aggressive at each other while Fushimi sits there getting increasingly annoyed (and maybe Munakata keeps looking at Fushimi significantly out of the corner of his eye and it’s getting irritating). Finally he’s like ‘I’ll just take care of it’ and he dives right into the water. The S4 alphabet and Kusanagi are all immediately alarmed, Kusanagi did not expect Fushimi of all people to be this reckless, but Munakata is totally serene about the whole thing as he says there is no problem. 

Kusanagi’s all disbelieving ‘no problem?’ when Fushimi surfaces in full siren mode, complaining that Munakata’s going to owe him overtime for this. The alphabet boys are all momentarily on guard but then Akiyama gives a tentative ‘Fushimi…san?’ and Fushimi clicks his tongue to cover that he’s actually a little embarrassed about this whole thing. The S4 boys all think this is really cool though, Doumyouji happily says see Kamo he doesn’t hate you he was just worried you’d fillet him. Fuse mutters that this explains the long baths and Hidaka remembers how Fushimi was the only one who never got into the water when they did their deserted island beach training. The Homra alphabet are probably wondering how they missed this, imagine Kamamoto texting Yata all worriedly that Fushimi turned into a fish and getting back a sheepish ‘oh…you guys didn’t know, huh?.’ Kusanagi especially is a little baffled that he didn’t know this, though now it makes sense why Fushimi never went in the ocean at beach trips and why Yata always acted nervous whenever they went out for sushi. Munakata meanwhile is definitely being unbearably smug about the fact that he knew this all along and Kusanagi didn’t, much to Kusanagi’s irritation, though Awashima at least has the grace to look a little apologetic that they never mentioned this to him.

[bjornswoman]

My prisoner

Requested by none.

Author's note: Hello! I've been away for a while and I'm sorry about it. I wanted to come back with a fic about Bjorn, but this one was something that I was thinking for a while and I decided that this one will come out first. I want to believe that vikings fandom are still active. Anyway, till next time have fun and take care.

Pairing: Modern!Hvitserk x Reader.

Genre: Modern!au, drama, romance, fluff.

Summary: Your ex boyfriend breaks free from prison.

Warnings: Drama, mentions of prison break, mentions of death.

Life had never been easy for you.

When you thought that things started getting better, something really bad happened and you were back to zero.

Life had shown you its worst face so far.

You had lost your parents at young age. You were struggling all alone, dealing with two awful jobs and an ex that was more pain in the ass than all the bills you had to pay at the end of each month.

Your life became much more difficult when you decided to get involved with the most infamous family of the city — the Lothbroks. These men — the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok, a mobster — they run a dangerous gang the one their father had founded. You couldn't even want to think about all the illegal stuff they were doing and the police was after them.

The bad thing in that was that the police had you under their microscope, as well, because you were Hvitserk Lothbrok's girlfriend — ex girlfriend.

And things became even worse than before when they put him in jail, after your break-up, and he decided with the help of his family to break free.

The police was following each movement of yours. They were tracking your phone number, listening to all your phone calls, expecting to learn about your ex. They had even someone outside your apartment to watch you over.

You told them over and over again that you had nothing to do with that filthy man anymore, but they wouldn't believe in you.

You let a long breath leave your lungs as you were cleaning the bar counter.

"What is it again?" One of your coworkers asked. Well, Hope was more than a coworker, she was your friend.

The only one you could talk to and not raise any suspicions. You were friends with Torvi — the wife of Ubbe Lothbrok — and Gunnhild — the wife of Bjorn Lothbrok — but you couldn't see them, it was too risky to get in touch with any member of the family. Of course, the police kept a close eye on them, but still you couldn't have any kind of communication with any of the family.

"It's the usual problem with... him." You said as you were placing the clean glasses on their place behind the counter.

"The police is following me around like I'm some kind of a bloody criminal because I made the mistake to start a relationship with a mobster." You spoke angrily and threw the towel on the counter. You were so angry, so frustrated with all this mess. Your hands run through your hair.

"I know that this is difficult for you, but it is going to end, sweetheart. It will end when they get this son of a bitch back where he belongs — in prison." She said wih an encouraging smile on her face and her hand rubbed your back friendly.

Only those words weren't encouraging for you. Deep in your heart you didn't want him to get caught and sent back inside there again. It hurt you to think that the man you loved were inside a called cell.

It was true that he wasn't the best guy in the world, not even close to that. Hvitserk had done some bad things that he wasn't proud of and he had regretted of doing. He had a good heart and wanted to be better.

You forced something that was the resemblance of a smile on your face and followed her to the kitchen to get the orders and walk them to the costumers.

"Did he try to contact you after you know?" Hope asked you suddenly and you nodded your head as an answer — no he didn't and it quite hurt you. But you had broken up before he got in.

"At least, he didn't dare to after all he did."

You frowned when you heard the tone of her voice. Hvitserk had never hurt you. In fact, the reason he broke up with you was because he didn't want to involve you in his mess, in the shit he was deep into, but it was late for that.

"He didn't harm me." You muttered when you got back with an epty tray in your hands.

Hope rolled her eyes and continued to place the drinks on her tray. When she finished, she turned her eyes on you.

"But he harmed other people. He is a criminal. Prison is where he belongs." Those where her words before she waltzed through the tables with her tray in hands.

Her words were harsh for a man she didn't know at all. Yeah, Hvitserk did awful things, but he wasn't just that. You had seen the good side of his. You had seen the little broken child in him. The one who felt full when you showed him your love and affection. The one who tried to shield your heart even from him.

The rest of your shift went by as usual. There weren't many clients as a typical Wednesday night. But things changed when you got that damned phone call.

It was a couple of times before the closing time when Torvi called. You didn't expect her to, you didn't expect anyone from the family to reach for you. When you saw her name on the screen, you used the back door to get out and answered her call.

"Torvi?" The tone of your trembling voice gave away easily to level of your concern about Hvitserk. Torvi wouldn't call if something bad did not happen. Something had happened. Something that you wouldn't like to hear.

"What happened? You know that it's not safe to speak through the phone." Your body was pressed on the wall next to the door and your hand was clenching the phone.

"Something came up which we don't know whether it stands or not, but I had to inform you because Ubbe said that they are 80% sure that it's true." You felt the despair and sadness in the tone of her voice as well as you could feel the tears forming in your eyes.

Hvitserk — your mind screamed but your tongue didn't. You waited to hear more before you even try to fight back your emotions.

"Tell me for the love of Gods! What happened?" You were almost crying now.

Torvi took a deep breath before her next words.

"They found a body — a body in a really awful state. It's unrecognizable. At the time were are talking they are in a lab waiting for the results of the DNA analysis. But, Ubbe said that they are almost sure that the body belongs to Hvitserk. He didn't contact the brothers after the escape, they thought he was hiding and would eventually come out, but he didn't."

You couldn't hear the most of it. You collapsed on the floor halfway and closed your eyes forcefully in an attempt to fight the waterfalls of tears to fall. Your free hand moved on your face and it touched your forehead.

You stopped hearing. You were crying. He couldn't be dead. Hvitserk couldn't die. Not like this.

"They killed him and threw his body in a ditch in a middle of nowhere. The people who killed him are the same who framed him with this murder he didn't commit." She continued, but you couldn't hear anymore. Your brain couldn't process all these. You couldn't process the fact that Hvitserk was dead.

"Hvitserk..." You muttered his name like it was a prayer between your sobs.

"I know it hurts but you—"

You didn't let her finish. You ended the damned call and let your phone fall from your hands. You hid your face in your palms and let yourself cry and mourn the love of your life — the only person you were able to love this much and loved you back in his own different way.

After some time, you gathered your broken heart and the pieces of your body and got in. You wiped your tears and cleaned your face with some fresh water. You had to stay strong for a couple of times and then you could cry all your wanted.

At the closing, you took out the trash in an attempt to cry to yourself for a bit in the darkness where no one could see your tears for the man you loved the most. You were so sad and shattered that you didn't notice a black figure approaching you.

You only noticed when one of his hands was on your mouth and the pushed you in a dark corner. You eyes opened widely and your heart beat went faster until you saw the face of your captor.

He let you see his face. He took his hood off and got rid of the black scarf which was covering his mouth and nose. When you could finally see him, he freed your mouth and you gasped.

"You!" You whispered out of breath. Your hand run on his features that you missed so much. The last time you could saw him in person was many months ago, almost a month before he got arrested.

"Shh!" His index finger was on your lips.

"Don't shush me! I thought you were fucking dead! Torvi called an—" All your whisper-yelling stopped when his lips fell violently on yours. The very thing he did every time he wanted to get away feom scolding. But this time you weren't going to get mad or stop him, until not as long as you could breathe.

His skilled lips were moving just perfect on yours and the facial hair he had were just perfect. His hands grabbed you by the waist and you placed your own hands around his neck. Your body was pressed on the wall by his own.

This kiss felt like salvation. It was like you were whole again. It felt like you could breathe even if you didn't. You didn't want it to stop, but it had. After all, you two had many things to discuss.

Much to your displeasure, it stopped because of the lack of air to your lungs. His hands left your waist and moved on your face where he caressed your cheeks softly.

But that loving moment didn't last long, before he noticed, your hand collided with his cheek violently and his head turned at the side.

"Was that necessary? Why did you do it?" Hvitserk whisper-yelled. His palm was on his hurting cheek that had your mark on it, along with the mark of your nails.

"You scared me to fucking death with your bloody lies. Plus, you were a total dick to me when I called you in jail." You spoke and gazed at him. You had missed him terribly.

"Hey!" With that Hvitserk grabbed your face between his hands. Your faces were dangerously close for once more. "I told you, you shouldn't have called me there. As for my little lie, it was my only chance to see you." You spoke and left a soft kiss on your forehead.

"And how would that be? The police is out there waiting for a stupid movement of yours — exactly like this one — to get you. They are after me — following every step of mine. You shouldn't be here." You told him and tried to leave him in the darkness. You didn't want him to get caught because of you.

Hvitserk didn't let slip from his hands. His strong grip held there in from of him.

"It's dangerous, Hvitserk." You whispered at him.

Hvitserk smirked and one of his hands placed a strand of hair behind your ear.

"See that was exactly my plan with all this dead body lie. Indeed, there was a body, but not mine — obviously — and we used it to mislead them. They will try to find the body and they won't pay attention to you. At least, not as much as they did." He explained and you smiled.

"Ivar's plan?" You asked all smiling and he smiled back.

"Like you don't know the answer to that."

After that, you stayed there gazing at each other, having only the stars witnessing this moment between you.

"Why did you break my heart?" You asked as your eyes were only on his. You wanted to hear the truth coming out of his mouth.

His green eyes were glowing under the lights of the stars.

"I – I don't deserve you. You are kind and sweet and so angelic and I am the exact opposite. I am so filthy that I'll defile your purity. I've done things that I'm not proud about — bad things."

"Then why are you here now?"

Your question made him think about it himself once more. His eyes were looking only deep inside yours. You could feel his pain when he talked about the stuff he did, you could feel everying through those eyes. It hurt you to think that he felt this way for himself.

"Behind the bars, in that cell, the only thing you can do is thinking. You're thinking about all the right and wrong decisions of your life till the moment you got in — especially the wrong ones keep you up all night. And what kept me up was you. The thought of never seeing you again, never hearing your voice, you laugh, your scolding. I just couldn't live knowing that I hurt you. I love you. My life without you is meaningless."

"Just never push me away again, okay?" You spoke as your hand wiped a couple tears away from your eyes. Hvitserk help you and when there weren't any more tears in your eyes, he caressed your skin softly.

"I love you, you idiot." You muttered and kissed him again. This kiss was so much different from the previous one. It soft and loving.

"The plan is to never let you slip away from me ever again." He spoke as he was caressing your hair.

"And how is that supposed to happen?"

"We will leave together here and now."

You frowned. You weren't expecting him to say something like this. You pushed him back, so you could face him.

"Wait... You want us to leave everything behind — our lives — and run away. This – this is....." You couldn't form a proper sentence. You were to process his proposition.

Kattegat was everything you knew — the place you called home. Everyone you knew was here and by that you meant your friends and some very distant relatives. Apart from your life, his life was in this place. His family, his job.

"(Y/N), there's nothing for us here. If I stay, I'll go to prison and I won't be able to hold you ever again. I will leave at the end of the day, there is no future for me in this city." Both of your hearts were beating fast at the thought that you would never see each other again after this night.

It was true that there was nothing here for you, only these two jobs that you hated. You couldn't know what future had in store for you, but if you let Hvitserk leave alone, you would hate yourself for the rest of your life.

Hvitserk's hand grabbed yours and closed it in both of his palms, but before that his finger gripped your chin and moved your head in such position that you could look at each other.

"The clock is ticking — the time is running fast. You have to give me your answer now. Are you coming with me right now?"

His eyes were begging you to say yes.

His heart was begging you to say yes.

But your mind was the problem. Your mind was hesitating to follow him wherever he was going to take you.

You closed your eyes for a moment. You couldn't choose between your heart and your mind. A whole war had broke inside you.

"(Y/N)?"

At the sound of your name on his lips you opened your eyes.

"I will come wherever you are willing to go. I can't live without you, my love." You told him and hugged him tightly.

Hvitserk wrapped his hand with yours and pulled you close to him.

"Are you sure? If we leave now — together — there's no coming back. We will be both fugitives." He told you smirking.

You chuckled when you heard him.

"That's a risk I'd love to take for you."

With those last words Hvitserk and you run away from the police and the city forever.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

I’m in the mood for angst, so imagine when Adam revives as a sinner he’s just horribly depressed that he doesn’t do anything but lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. Doesn’t help that there are people who don’t trust him as much as he trusts them

Adam laid there on his bed in the hotel wrapped up in blankets surrounded by pillows. The rooms that he shared a hallway with were empty save for Lucifer's down at the end, so in the middle of the night Adam swiped all the extra pillows and blankets to make a makeshift nest for himself.

He had taken to staring at the ceiling, he didn't want to be around people who barely tolerated him. The only reason he was even at this third rate hotel was because of the deal he made with Lucifer and his brat taking pity on him.

Adam still remembers the look she gave him, it made him sick.

He missed his home up in heaven, where he could be himself and not worry about anyone judging him. Adam had his own little garden he would go to when he would feel an ounce of stress.

Now all he had was a somewhat decent sized hotel room in Hell to hole up in.

All Adam wanted to do was go home, not just to heaven but to Eden. His true home the one he lost forever ago.

He was forced out of there like he was forced out of heaven. Fuck his life.

He only ever left to eat when all the hotel freaks had gone to bed, even then he'd hoard enough to get him through the next day so he wouldn't have to leave.

It's been six months.

At first Charlie tried knocking on his door trying to coax Adam out, but he didn't even have the energy to yell at her. He just ignored her until she went away.

She eventually stopped trying.

"So, this is what you do all day?"

Adam jumped at the voice and glared at the King who was now standing beside his bed. "What the- Get the fuck out!" He threw a pillow at Lucifer.

Lucifer dodged it with ease. "Charlie has been wondering where those pillows went. Come on, it's time to get your ass out of bed." He made a move to rip the blanket from Adam's bed only to get his hands slapped.

"Fuck off and leave me alone, asshole!!" Adam wrapped the blankets and his wings tighter around himself and turned away from Lucifer.

They remained in silence for so long Adam thought he left.

Until he felt a dip in the bed. "You, I get it. Falling from grace is a traumatic experience, not only that it's painful leaving your home behind."

Adam could feel his eyes get wet. "Like you care."

"I care." Lucifer placed a hand gently on Adam's back, he hoped it was as comforting as he meant it to be. "You can't spend your afterlife in bed, I've been there. Trust me."

The spot where Lucifer's hand was on his back felt hot through the blanket. "I'm fine."

"Yeah you look it." Lucifer commented. "Believe it or not Adam, I do give a shit. But I understand why you don't trust me or anyone here."

"No one trusts me either."

"Can you blame them?"

"Fuck off." Adam snapped, a tear rolled down his cheek. He's not the fucking bad guy here, he's been severely wronged!

Lucifer sighed and removed his hand. "I know you likely won't, but if you ever need someone to talk to my door is always open." He got up from the bed. "Maybe try coming down for a meal once in a while."

"Do you remember that song from Eden?" Adam asked, he wasn't sure what brought in the question but he had to know. "The sung at night?"

Lucifer blinked, yeah he remembered how could he forget? "Yeah, why?"

Adam didn't answer, he was too embarrassed to ask. It was a song that Lucifer would hum or sing to him to help him relax. He felt the weight return to his bed.

Lucifer laid down this time behind Adam leaving enough space between them. He started humming the melody of the song before softly singing the words. He watched as Adam physically relaxed and smiled. Lucifer pulled the blanket back slightly from Adam's head and gently ran his fingers through silky soft dark brown hair.

Adam felt his eyes grow heavy and he smiled small, he closed them and for a moment, just a moment, he could pretend he was back in Eden with his best friend and first love.

They both could pretend.