#but I said I thought I was paying for myself

[euphoria-looney]

Thank you... for everything.

Pt.1

Bake No Hana (Nightcord at 25:00 ft. Kaito)

"It's finally come around, my punishment for having been born. In order to put an end to it, I stop breathing— Ah, I'm fed up with this."

I approached the girl who chose me last round, Penelope. I called her Penny though, and thought the name was cute.

It suits her.

Last round I wasn’t sure exactly what I was going to do, but she pulled me into her group, and even against the male group, we won!

It didn’t help that crunch that echoed across the room each time a team lost though, Astro has been colder than ever and the old guy got separated from me before I could follow him. I think it was fate that we all ended up on the same team.

I’m trying to sound positive because, at this moment in time, I have gone too far to give up now, whether that be hope or, the sick truth, for the money.

My mind is always racing and is looking for the truth that I’m hiding from myself. 

I’ve killed people intentionally or not, just to keep going for a cash prize that I’m not even sure I’ll win.

This isn’t the situation I wanted to be in.

I’ve said that line so many times.

When I was 5 and my mother ran away, that wasn’t the situation I wanted to be in.

When I kept getting neglected and abused in the manor, that wasn’t the situation I wanted to be in.

When I got kicked out at the mere age of 18, That wasn’t the situation I wanted to be in.

Getting into debt and sinking deeper into the amount needed to pay back, I bet you can think of the line I said next.

And now with all the corpses I’ve been near, the money dropping into the pig, the masked soldiers that looked upon you with their weapons, was this really how I was going to be free from debt? Was this the situation I wanted to be in?

“Hey!” Penny turned to look at me.

“Want to pair up?” I tilted my head at her.

“Why should I?”

“I don’t picture you going around here and begging these jerks.” I looked around at our options.

“Wouldn’t that bother you?” I raised an eyebrow to her.

“Bothering me or not isn’t the concern, winning or losing is.” Despite that, she didn’t make any plans to move away from me.

I cheered fondly at her.

“Then play with me, I’ll make sure you’ll win.”

“What will you do?”

“Whatever it takes.”

“... What do you see in me?” 

“Well, I wanted to ask you that.”

“You were someone who looked like they would come with me.”

“I feel the same way.” I raised my hand offering a handshake.

She took my hand, so warm compared to how she acted, and I tightened the grip before releasing her hand.

I’m glad we got the teams out of the way before the timer ended.

—

Third POV

“Alright, there's a five-minute break before the games start, my good sirs. Do whatever you’d like before coming back to meet up and enjoy the show, they’ll be playing marble games.” The frontman announced before everyone dispersed.

“What was that imbecile thinking, joining a game like this? She even had the option to leave and she chose to come back?!” Damian scoffed, rolling his eyes out of agitation.

“They did…” Duke murmured.

“No, they didn’t.” Damian looked at Duke as if he were mad.

“Yes, they did, a while back? You were there and berated them for acting like their mother…” Duke rebutted.

“That must’ve felt so humiliating…”

Dick rubbed his arm.

“... she was probably terrified to face you again, especially with how you treated her…”

Damian piped down after that.

“You’re not any better than us, Duke. You also shunned them away,” Tim said, defending himself and the others.

“I’m not saying I’m better than anyone and this doesn’t excuse what I did but all of you guys made it known through the whole manor that she was just like her mother, so greedy for money that even when she had too much she wanted more, is that what we’re seeing in front of us though?! A girl who's so loaded but still wants more?!” That left Tim speechless and guilty.

“I know what it’s like to be financially unstable, obviously after losing my parents and trying to find them it wasn’t easy, and it didn’t make it any easier with not even a penny in my pocket, so these people “killing themselves for a little money” even though it’s a life or death situation, that’s no different then being “free” out there, especially not in Gotham. So when Bruce rescued me and treated me with kindness and support, I thought that all his kids got this treatment, but now you guys want to berate her and call her an idiot but she was forced into this position…”

He turned to Bruce but was only met with the man looking away.

“Maybe when she left this game, she realized her life wasn’t meant enough and came back to this dehumanizing environment, she didn’t come for us to help her because of the memories of last time, she probably was so nervous always walking on eggshells around us that the moment we rejected her she knew that this was her only option.”

Jason knew it wasn’t targeted specifically at him, but at one point, he knew he had a bond with [name], that innocent kid with those cute bug eyes and that gummy smile. They had something special. Then he died and came back with the news. At that moment, he couldn’t help but feel betrayed by [name]’s mom. With everything that had happened to him,, he had changed his character, so with no one to blame…

Well, you are your mother’s daughter.

Doesn’t the saying go ‘like mother, like daughter?’

Also, the situation didn’t help with him constantly not talking to her, you’d have understood the feeling he got when she came to the manor after being kicked out just to beg for money?

He seriously could not blame the situation on you, did he, or did he forget that he contributed to it too?

The ignoring, the sneering, the insults, how one looks from the person she trusted the most could shatter her heart.

And of course that would be the first conversation she had with you... You didn’t talk to her.

“Well, did you guys hear what she said to that other girl, seems she has no plans-”

A knock interrupted the chat.

“I’m sorry sirs, but the games are starting. May I have your bets?”

“240”

“Wow, all of you, just in case she ever loses, would you guys like to buy her body? I assume you’re family and had an interest in that girl?”

“You!-” Damian was stopped by Bruce, who also had his hands clenched in anger.

“Thank you, that would be appreciated.” Smiled Bruce.

“Of course, and I didn’t mean you lose the bet, it’s just that the odds are against some players and good for others.” The Frontman nodded before heading off.

“Don’t worry, guys. Just hang on. I’m finding the location as fast as I can,” Oracle said through the earpiece before they left for the lounge.

Their nice, comfortable lounge.

—

If I am ready to die, why not know a little bit more about the person I’m spending my last moments with?

“You know~ since the last Joker attack nothing has been this tragic…”

“What game are we playing?” No small talk then… but that’s okay.

“Dang, you’re cold as ice.”

“What game are we playing, girl?”

“You tell me. These games are probably only known to these oldies, tell you what let’s make our own game, ten marbles we could do anything with that.

“So let’s… end this game in a single round.” I looked down at my lap.

“All or nothing. A simple bet.” I looked back at her again with my stupid smile that showed my gums and tilted my head.

It was something I was used to doing a lot as a kid.

I don’t know why I’m acting like this, maybe it’s because my misery will finally end.

That took a dark turn. Let’s get back on track.

“Don’t tell me you’d… rather do what they’re doing?” 

We looked at the old guys behind Penny, throwing their marbles that hit against each other. What was the purpose of the game?

Get the other players' marbles out before they do.

“Okay. Playing what then?” 

I huffed in amusement. 

“What’s with the hurry?” 

“You’re just dying to kill me, huh?” I teased

That was a rhetorical question, we both knew it…

At least I knew it was.

“We’ve got a lot of time on our hands, and we’re playing one round. What’s the rush?”

“What are we gonna do before then?”

“Talk” It had been a while since I’d done that with somebody in this hellhole.

“About what?” 

“Things we never told anybody about I guess.”

“One of us is gonna die, so… it doesn't matter what we tell each other. No one can really embarrass themselves anymore. Okay?”

—

“How long have you been in Gotham? It isn’t a place where one would particularly reside.” We were both sitting at the stairsteps at this point.

I started with a question.

“Just been here since I was born, my mom found the “love of her life” here. She said we’d enjoy it”

“Did you?”

“...” She didn’t reply but rather stayed silent.

“Your family, are they still here with you?”

“My brother.”

“Any parents?”

“My father died getting shot in some back alleyway, at the wrong place, at the wrong time.”

“And your mom?”

“She got high off of drugs when she lost my dad, she overdosed not too long ago and her family took her away from us blaming us for the reason she suffers. I don’t know if she’s still alive and recovering or dead.”

“Where’s your brother now then?”

“In a shelter,” she hesitated. I was asking more than giving, but she still replied, and that was enough for both of us.

“If you win this and get the money, what will you spend it on?”

“Buy a house for me and my brother, then take us somewhere else, Gotham is no place for us, even if the top schools are here, there’s a price to pay for everything.” She was right about that.

I scoffed a little bored of that answer.

“Hey~ with this amount of money you could buy that and so much more- is there anywhere you’d like to travel?”

“Houma.”

“Houma?”

She nodded her head.

“It looked peaceful and had lower crime rates than most places. It didn’t look like Gotham at all.”

I couldn’t help but huff at that.

“Hey. Don’t you think you should dream bigger, huh? Do Keystone City. Hold on– Go to Metropolis instead. They even have lower crime rates than most.

Penny finally turned her head around and looked at me for once out of this entire conversation.

“Metropolis?”

“Yeah, the Superfam lives there. You know the Kryptonite versions of the Batfam in Gotham?”

It seems she didn’t care much about superheroes which made me giggle.

“Really?”

She shook her head.

“Oh no, then we have you fix that, we’ll have a girl’s night out every week in Metropolis and get to meet the Superfam in the flesh, okay?” 

She looked away at that.

“Oh, guess we can’t both leave here?”

…

“Back when my father was alive he was the perfect guy, he was too generous for his good, I was too naive as a kid rushed into the room where he laid to rest before he was covered and saw his gorey body,” Penny told me.

“The first body I saw was this poor kid on the side of the street abandoned just like me, he died inhaling too much of Scarecrow’s gas.”

“Abandoned?”

“Oh! I haven’t told you my backstory, it’s not as tragic as yours, no. My mother married a billionaire and took cash before running away without me when I was five. Everybody blamed her actions on me, making me feel too shameless to ever ask for cash, then I got kicked out at eighteen and took too much debt for regular supplies and school debt then landed here.”

“I wonder if I had money, what would I do… Go to Houma with you?”

A silence ensued between us making me look away.

“Sorry, I forgot again.”

As the timer started running out the sun kept going down even lower. Penny stood up.

“Let’s do this.” I smiled at that.

—

Third POV

By now, some VIPs were disappointed not because they had lost money but because they had lost the guessing game of lives.

Others were happy with the result.

But for our main characters well, can you guess how they’re feeling?

Unnerved, whatever [name] was planning. Are they going to win this game, or will they lose? Would the Wayne family see their dear family die with a bullet to the head?

Bruce never meant to treat you like that, but you’d have to understand your mother betrayed him, and you were there… and you didn’t do anything.

Oh, what could you have done? 

Alert the whole house of her leaving? Then what?

It was never your fault, you did everything you could to appease them, they just never forgive your mother.

—

We stood up passing a dead body and went to an “empty” land.

“Whoever can roll it farther than the other person wins, okay?”

I let Penny get the head start.

I held my marble in my hand.

Pondering.

I didn’t have much to live for, did I?

I had no friends, no family, and nothing to my name other than the daughter of a gold digger or the bastard child.

What’s the point?

I I guess this game was pointless after all.

I let the marble slide off my hands landing a few inches from my foot.

Straightening my posture I feel Penelope approach me.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” She grabbed me by the collar of the tracksuit.

“You win, I lose.”

“Stop. Why the hell would you try to do that?” She still kept a firm hold on me.

“Butter fingers, what can I say?” I chuckled, scrunching my eyebrows at her.

“Making sure I won. Is that what this is?”

She slammed me into the wall again.

“Did you think I would be grateful? Throw it again.” She demanded.

“And I still wouldn’t be able to win.” I kept my smile on.

“Ugh, don’t be dramatic and let me die in style, hm?” 

This was the reality, and if one of us had something memorable to do once we had gotten out of there, it would be her. Wouldn’t it?

“[name], that’s bullshit! Stop acting cool and just do a real throw!”

I sighed no longer keeping my damn smile on my face.

“I have nothing.”

“What?” Penelope didn’t let go, though. It seemed like she would allow me to talk a bit more.

“You have a reason to get out of this place… I don’t.”

Penelope kept breathing shakily. 

“I thought hard about what I would do, over and over, nothing. It’s like a dead end.” I felt myself tearing up.

I didn’t want to burst out in tears, I hadn’t done that in a while. 

I’ve always hated getting emotional, but it feels like a relief to get it off my chest.

“If anybody has a reason to go back out still there, it’d be you.” I laughed despite tasting the salty tears that leaked from my eyes.

Penelope didn’t seem the type to get emotional either, though that didn’t stop her from letting a couple of tears flow.

“Don’t die here, go out there… and find a place where you and your brother can reside. Far from any crime preferably to Houma.” I chuckled.

…

As Penelope walked away, I didn’t want that to be how our interaction ended, no, not like this pathetic goodbye.

“Penny!” I wasn’t sure she’d respond to that nickname but to my surprise, she stopped.

It made me widen my eyes briefly before going into a somber expression.

I held in my tears at that moment, stabilizing my voice.

“Thank you… for playing with me.” I was glad the guard let me have my closure, you don’t think they’d have the heart with their roles.

BANG

Player 240, eliminated.

—

The blood sprayed out before her body collapsed onto the ground with a sickening thud.

This wasn’t the situation anybody wanted to be in.

— 

That’s it for now. In the next part of this option, the Batfamily will suffer and have flashbacks, as one does. If anyone has any advice on how to write some scenes, that would be spectacular.

I’ll be working on a request and then my So Much More series before getting to Astro! And then maybe the next part of this, so don’t expect it anytime soon. That’s all from me!

Taglist time! ��

Also, I love the idea and from fic from both @jellyfishmoon97 and @not-weirdoshrek and a new addition that I'm super happy I bumped into @alilobsessive.

@holysoulsweets @sh4rk-k1d @sillysealsies @loomspuddle @cantfindmelol @alwaysholymilkshake @leitor-sonolento @randomlyappearingartist @beyondblissxoxo @sirairi @yhin-gg @frankie-moon3 @welpthisisboring @yokesmam @bat1212 @enchantingarcadecreation @twismare @delias-stuff @ladylupuscrow @ferchu0406 @c4xcocoa @cruzerforce4256 @anonymoushehehehe @godoreo22 @blerp-22 @facelessisnthere @sirenetheblogger @themightybee4067 @boredselkie @tiffyisme3760 @random4137 @midnightgrimoire @mybones537 @chaoticmoontimetravel @jsprien213

I think that's everyone who wanted to be tagged, I hope I didn't spell any wrong and tag the wrong person.

[frankendykes-monster]

Six people have burned themselves at Virginia’s infamous supermax Red Onion State Prison since the start of the year, the state’s Department of Corrections confirmed in an email to The Appeal. A Virginia Department of Corrections (VADOC) spokesperson said the men used “improvised devices that were created by tampering with electrical outlets.” Four incidents occurred on or after September 1. The agency said it tracks incidents of self-harm but does not make reports on those incidents publicly available. “To be clear, these inmates did not set themselves on fire or self-immolate,” she wrote. “They were treated for electrical burns at the Department’s secure medical facility at the VCU Medical Center and cleared to return to the facility. All six inmates have been referred to mental health staff for treatment.” For more than two decades, civil rights attorneys, human rights advocates, and prisoners have documented the horrific conditions at Red Onion, which sits in rural Western Virginia near the Kentucky border. According to a 2018 lawsuit, one man allegedly hallucinated and spoke with his dead parents while kept in solitary for more than 12 years. In another case, a man isolated for over 600 days started to speak in numbers, lost more than 30 pounds, and signed his name with a series of random letters. The DOC settled both lawsuits. In October, incarcerated journalist Kevin “Rashid” Johnson broke the self-harm story for Prison Radio, reporting that men had burned themselves in a “desperate attempt” to be transferred outside of the prison. The news outlet posted an audio recording by Ekong Eshiet, one of the men who allegedly burned himself. Eshiet said staff discriminate against him because of “my race, my last name, or my religion.” “I don’t mind setting myself on fire again,” Eshiet said on the recording. “This time, I would set my whole body on fire before I have to stay up here and do the rest of my time up here.”

Last year, six prisoners at Red Onion State Prison, a supermax facility on the state’s rural west side, intentionally burned themselves, prompting scrutiny of the prison from lawmakers and the public. But rather than address the conditions that may have led to such desperate measures, emails obtained by The Appeal show that corrections staff discussed how best to punish those who’d self-immolated. In the documents, which were obtained through a public records request and partially redacted, staff members discussed how to deter further incidents of self-harm. Suggestions included charging prisoners thousands of dollars for medical care and criminally prosecuting them. “I believe on Monday, we pull policy and start charging the inmates thousands of dollars for the hospital and medical treatment,” Red Onion’s chief of security wrote in September. “Once we iron through this, we can send the word through the inmate population that they’re going to be changed [sic] thousands for their medical due to intentional manipulation. Just my thoughts on how to prevent this kind of behavior.” One of the recipients, Assistant Warden Dwayne Turner, voiced his approval. “Yeah, sounds good,” he wrote. “But, the first thing we need to figure out is why? Do they think they will get transferred? If so, we need to make sure they don’t…. obviously they think they can gain something from doing that. We need to make sure they know they won’t gain anything….but making them pay money is good too[.]” The minimum wage for incarcerated workers in Virginia starts at $0.27 an hour. Local media outlet VPM News reported that Turner was promoted to assistant warden after he was accused of choking a restrained prisoner. Turner did not respond to The Appeal’s request for comment.

[melodyanqel]

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐏 ── ✦ h.ih. (one - reunion)

a pretty little thing, who grew up extremely sheltered and has never seen the horrors in life until she gets recuited in a mysterious competition.

⤷ pairing: hwang in-ho x fem!oc

⤷ genre/tags: fluff, angst, thriller, psychological drama, established relationship, games, action, financial issues, gambling, betrayal, team bonding, family, possessive!sadistic!in-ho, sheltered!sunshine!oc

⤷ warning: mention of character's death

⤷ wc: 1.3k words

⤷ note: this first chapter is so fluffy and a bit emotional but i had fun writing it and i said to myself no prologue just go right into the story

⤷ melodyanqel taglist: @buckitostan

The café's honeyed hues bring sweetness to the day, coaxing an inner smile that warms from within.

Behind the counter, a young woman in her twenties is hard at work and her presence brightens the atmosphere like the glowing sun. Myung Yu-na is her name. She enjoys being a barista because she loves creating unique and delicious drinks. It may sound strange to many but sometimes not-so-extravagant things can be a passion. 

The happy-go-lucky Yu-na is viewed as too pure, wholesome, and, most importantly, very sheltered. Even though she still lives with her parents and they allow her to work and make some money for herself, Yu-na is too protected from the harsh realities and circumstances of the real world. Not once in her life has she seen or experienced any of it. 

Despite her lack of exposure, she is still a wonderful person. It did take a lot of courage and effort to convince her parents that she wanted to make decisions for herself until she reached adulthood. Yu-na will always love them and be grateful for everything they’ve done for her since she was born. 

“Yu-na! A customer is at the register!”

“Okay!”

She responds to her co-worker and a small grunt escapes her lips when putting the pesky lid on a mocha chocolate frappuccino. She calls out the order and the person’s name. Yu-na sees them approaching the counter. “Thank you, miss.” A sweet-looking elderly woman thanks her before taking her drink. 

Yu-na shows a kind smile. “You’re welcome. Have a great afternoon,” She said, cordially. “You too, miss.” The older woman returns the smile and leaves the place. 

Shortly after, Yu-na walks to the register to place the next order. “What can I get for you?” She asked a tall man dressed in dark clothes with a cap over his head, covering half of their face. She hears his deep, gruff voice speak. “Yu-na, how have you been?” He gives her a question. The young woman furrowed her brows with a confused look. 

Instantly, she gasps when he lifts the cap to reveal his face. Her dark brown eyes widened owlishly. “Oh my goodness! Uncle Gi-hun!” Yu-na says the man’s name in shock. A small smile plays on his wrinkled face. Hearing her angelic voice in so long makes him elated. She also has her ebony hair in double ponytails, like when she was a little girl.

Gi-hun’s niece responds, “I’m doing good. I’ll explain more when my lunch break starts in ten minutes. But I need your order.” She giggles blithely, her uncle almost forgot his coffee. Gi-hun clears his throat, “Yes. One warm Americano, please.” He said. Yu-na punches in his order on the register and gives him the price. She receives his money to pay for the drink and has him wait until it gets done. 

Within those ten minutes, Yu-na served Gi-hun’s Americano and three more customers. The uncle watches his niece do her best at being quick on her feet, kindly greeting people, and saying goodbye to them. Gi-hun was once like Yu-na before his life became what it is now. His youth was living a simple life with his mother and friends. If only he hadn’t made those mistakes and thrown his well-being away. Gi-hun’s expression downcasted. 

The winner of the 33rd game has the money he desires for a long time, but it’s meaningless to him. Gi-hun will forever feel tainted by the thought and look of the stacks of cash in his space, which is a rundown motel. 

Momentarily, his train of thought gets interrupted. “I’m ready! Where do you want to start?” Yu-na happily has her cooked ramen cup and sits across from her uncle. He shifts his sitting position to face her with his back leaning against the chair. “How is everyone? Do you hear much from your aunt?” Gi-hun hops onto the topic of family. He does miss his sister-in-law or his ex-wife’s sister. Even though Gi-hun was never on good terms with Eun-ji after Ga-yeong came into the world, he does get along with her sister Yu-bin. 

“Omma and appa are doing well. The restaurant is still in business and they finally realized I should start my own life. I get that I’m a late bloomer, but I’ll keep on learning. Also, Auntie Eun-ji, I haven’t spoken to her since she left around 2021. It is much more difficult because of the time difference and adjusting to a new lifestyle.” Yu-na delivered a full response or an update about herself. She slurps on her noodles like a happy child.

Gi-hun sighed and nodded. “I see. That's great for your parents. I find it fascinating how they can keep running a business before you were born.” He chuckles dryly because he used to own businesses but failed to manage them properly. “I can understand not seeing your aunt as much. I wish to contact Ga-yeong more but I know her mother doesn’t want her to. But anyway, I’m glad you all are doing fine.” Gi-hun sips on his Americano and feels content, like a regular person. 

He has been out of touch with closure. It must be a miracle that Yu-na is unknowingly helping him. 

As they continued to talk, Gi-hun discovered new things about his niece. She has done a lot these past years; majoring in digital marketing because she gravitates towards creating her brand of art and clothes, making new friends, and going out more. Gi-hun can tell it’s a family thing to build your own business. He is even proud that she is becoming an independent woman. 

“How about you uncle? My family and I have been wondering where you’ve been. I’m also sorry for your omma.” Yu-na questions about his absence and she couldn’t help but mention his mother. It was devastating when she and her family received the news about her death because she practically raised both Yu-na and Ga-yeong. 

The older man answers the best he can to make it sound convincing. “I’ve been working overseas because I decided to wake up and find a better job. And I did. I’ve earned more than I usually get during my gambling days, which are done for. I got so busy that I couldn’t be at home as often. I then started to get homesick so I’m doing more of my duties here.” Gi-hun doesn’t want to look crazy in front of Yu-na if he talks about the game and has been searching for the so-called salesman.

As a pure and innocent girl, she takes his response as the truth. 

“I also took the time to heal when my omma passed. But thank you for your condolence.” Gi-hun truly appreciates Yu-na’s sympathy. She says to him, “Oh wow! I hope you are proud of what you are doing. I’m sure your omma is too from above.” Her beautiful face draws a reassuring smile. 

Gi-hun feels the warmth spread across his cold, dark heart. He hopes Yu-na will never forget herself. She is still young, vibrant, and has a long life ahead. 

Thirty minutes felt so short, but it was worth having a moment of peace and freedom. Before Yu-na goes back to work, she sees her uncle standing up from the chair and moves aside with open arms. She mirrors his actions and to enter a long-awaited hug. It was comforting and full of love. He needed this. 

When they pull away from the embrace, Gi-hun says one last thing before leaving the café. “I wish you the best of luck on everything you do. And remember this, please make good decisions because I know it’s hard being careful but I know you’re smart and can handle anything. Stay safe out there.” He doesn’t know whether this will be their first and last time together, but he believes she’ll follow his advice. 

Yu-na delivers a merry smile. “Alright, uncle. Thank you for making my day.” She expressed joy that brought fondness in Gi-hun's dark gaze. “You’re welcome. I hope to see you again.” The uncle bids his farewell to his niece who nods her head in a silent yet sincere response. Yu-na sees Gi-hun walk out of the café, feeling a bit bittersweet.

She hopes to see him again as well. 

series masterlist | two

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY EMMRICH VOLKARIN - PARTY BANTER *  assorted banter from dragon age: the veilguard

are you interested in alchemy?

working late?

i found it in the library.

i don't believe it was there when i went to bed.

what do you wish to know about?

surely you know all about them.

young mages do ask the complicated questions first.

the stories have a bit more substance to them.

do i detect disappointment?

we might cause a stir.

if you're curious about the undead, i could arrange an excursion.

where should we start?

how interesting.

it is more powerful than most of what we're used to.

you've made a discovery?

fascinating. the amount of magic you could harness...

what did it do?

it's for the best.

what training did you have as a young mage?

the offer stands if you reconsider.

does that happen often in the forest?

it's a work of art.

i was an apprentice once.

it wouldn't be worth studying if it were dull.

am i right in feeling that something deeper troubles you?

the things i could teach you...

how was that book you found the other day?

surely everyone knows about that!

there was one creature... twice as tall as you.

it whispered in a language no one recognized... except when it spoke our names.

i was a most timid child.

what's your latest hearsay?

that's quite enough.

my dear, i know perfectly well what i'm doing.

that's wonderful to hear.

i'm surprised you recognize it.

how could i possibly know that?

your power is quite unlike other magic i've seen.

i'm pleased to travel with you.

you mustn't pay them any mind.

i admit i haven't given it much thought.

do you regret not having those things?

excellent point!

isn't that funny?

does it ever last longer than a few seconds?

strangely enough, i might've found myself in that situation recently.

i must've been distracted.

what are you getting at?

may we change topics?

the heart speaks across all things.

we're out of almonds? already?

were you eating? in the library?

this sounds like the perfect opportunity for experimentation!

do you have any say in your targets?

forgive me, i shouldn't have asked.

i find it extremely interesting that you consider the point of view of your enemies in battle.

i'm sorry that you two came together under such unjust circumstances.

my sympathies.

have you considered my suggestion?

it's your turn to cook tonight, isn't it?

you must let me bring you some.

where did you learn to cook?

i don't mean to be intrusive.

we all approach things in our own way.

you'll have to forgive my own worries.

time is a factor, but not necessarily a limiting one.

who do you have in mind?

you had your concerns about me at first.

what was that fruit we had yesterday?

you've quite an eye for detail.

i'll admire from afar.

where is that song from?

the advice is well taken.

you're not curious?

it would make for an interesting experiment.

are you using them for exercise?

you sound disappointed.

if you have any questions, please do let me know.

that was a friendly greeting.

we're exploring the matter, yes.

[love-and-war-on-cybertron]

Since you mentioned dead dove request. 👉👈 Could it be possible to request Synthetic Energon!Ratchet? I feel like that mech would do unspeakable things when horny.

Maybe he has a crush on reader who is a mechanic helping him out, and he gets jealous when he sees reader bond with Knock Out now that he doesn't have the medbay and you to himself. Reader could casually offer to buff/polish Knock and that pushes Ratchet over the edge and just yanks you and takes you to his quarters after giving you the silent treatment all day. Highly doubt that mech would show any restrains.

"How's it Hummin'" Will forever be HOT. Like goddamn sleazy but HOT. Sorry It's being split into a two-parter XP

cw: Heavy Dub-con. Reader wants it, but maybe not quite like that.

It had been innocent. Or so you thought. Ratchet had been moody, especially ever since he tried that synthetic crap. Ignoring you all day, even when you came directly to him, asking if you could help with anything. The huff you received in return was enough to know you didn't want to deal with whatever he was upset about.

Knockout was better company today anyways.

The formerly Decepticon Medic had warmed up to you despite being human. You knew your stuff and didn't joke or distrust him for being a turn coat. You could even share a few laughs and talk about Movies. He offered to let you ride with him to see one at the drive in.

Ratchet mumbled something. You assumed it was annoyance at what ever project he was working on. After some chitchat, you and Knock Out get to work, snarking back and forth. It was a project you had been working on for awhile. Something Ratchet said you didn't need his help on.

A couple hours in, you're taking a break, sitting next to Knock out. He holds up an arm, sighing at a scuff.

"I miss Breakdown. He could get this out and polish it away like it never happened." He seemed lost in thought for a moment.

Knowing what happened to his friend, you felt a little bad, "Well maybe I can Buff that out for you later?" Ratchet drops a tool but you pay it no mind, "I got some tool in my truck if you're okay with human tools. I could-" You stop, seeing Knockout's face.

He isn't looking at you, but past you, Optics wide. Heavy footsteps rapidly approach and knockout backs away, servos held up. He speaks in Cybertronian. There is a sharp response behind you before you are snatched up.

The grip is a bight tight, but nothing damaging. You try to struggle out of it but you're brought up quickly to meet green Optics. "Quiet."

It's Ratchet. What was up his aft? You try to speak again, but he growls at you. The sound and vibration sending a shiver down your spine. He stomps through the base all the way to his quarters. Far in the back. He liked the quiet. You are none-too-gently dumped onto the slap of rock he made into a berth. The room is dark, save for the glow of his eyes. The green makes you uneasy. As does the way he leans close, servos flat on either side of you.

"What's up Ratchet?" You sit up on your elbows, heart racing, trying to keep your voice steady.

The Medic glares down at you, silent. Servos dragging off of the slab as he stands straight. Glowering down at you, he looked even more massive.

"Getting real fragging close to that Con." He spits the last word out.

"He's not a decepticon anymore. You know tha-'

A massive metal fist slams down beside you, his face close. You're bathed in that sick green light. Vision drowned in his optics. His voice, a tense whisper.

"Getting. Real. close."

You start shaking, unable to look away as the mechanics of his optics shift and focus on you. Who was this, cause it sure as hell wasn't Ratchet. All this change started with...

"Ratchet. Come on. You-" you take a shaky breath, "You haven't been yourself. Lets just-"

"No." His voice is firm as he grabs your ankle and drags you to the edge of the berth, "I have never felt more myself. Stronger. Faster. Better. Can't you see it? Can't you see I'm better than everyone else? Especially that scrap excuse for a doctor?"

Trying to scoot away only made his hold on you tighten enough to earn a grunt.

"The frag do you see in him, when I'm right in front of you?"

You had always suspected something, Ratchet was a bit softer with you compared to the other humans. Always excluding you from his complaints about humans. Taking time to talk to you, teaching you about Cybertronian physiology. But this...

"Ratchet, that shit is making you act weird." You say, reaching out to touch the servo that grips you. The large Metal thumb running up and down your leg. It sent another shiver down your spine.

"No, I'ts making me act just right. I'm not holding back anymore." His thumb slides under your shirt.

[allfearstofallto]

I haven't gotten to Caleb's story yet, but, I've seen a few clips. And the part of me that loves dark romance and twisted love, is absolutely over the moon at the way he's acting, but color me surprised when I saw how everyone else was responding to it 😭

I just saw someone make a post saying they hated the story and it was horrible. Like, my stomach dropped because I'd spent so much time prepping for him and I was worried I'd wasted it.

So obviously, I read the whole review and from what I gathered, the person just hated the fact that Caleb was doing his yandere thing. They said he felt evil and controlling, that he was morally grey and that his relationship with mc was going to paint what he'd done in a better light. Mind you I read the post twice to be sure, but the whole time I was thinking, "That's the whole point??"

A yandere character is always going to be inherently morally grey. Whether they act on their actions or not, typically the thoughts that they have about their darling are depraved. The ownership they feel over the person they love is almost inhumane. And of course, sometimes it's not even love, it's limerence or obsession. That's what makes them a yandere.

I think a lot of people expected him to be more possessive, like Xavier, which is more of a cute jealousy at times, typical of a romantic drama, and not a full blown, "I will kidnap you and hide you away from everyone because you and I belong together," type. But i also feel like they weren't paying enough attention. In his trailer he says something along the lines of "I bought that cat a bell with a collar, so that it'd make noise if it tried to run away," The cat obviously being an allegory for us and what he intended to do to us.

They didn't put that there for no reason??

So yeah, long-winded post to say that a lot of people didn't understand the initial archetype for Caleb. Because if we're going by typical otome game archetypes, there's always one yandere. I'm personally very happy with him so far, once again, as a yandere enthusiast and writer myself (not a good one) I think he was written beautifully.

He's not a yandere for no reason, his personality hasn't changed a crazy amount to account for his yandere actions (he mentions that he's always been like this), he had a moderate amount of power that makes him a valuable ally, but a tragic foe, and he has a real connection to mc, meaning that cutting him off and never seeing him again because of these tendencies isn't entirely possible for her.

[theharrowing]

MY CHELL!!!!!!!

i read this review back when you posted it but life has been so hectic that i haven't had a chance to respond 😭😭😭 but i am here now and so excited to see (once again) what you have to say.

that ursula gif tho 💀💀💀

how i picture you wiggling in your seat:

you know, i hadn't fully considered the image of Taehyung in a balaclava, but now that you mention it..........................yes.

Stroll in with a pair of bloody chopsticks and a simple, “Darling”...what a charmer.

lolol idk why this is so funny to me.

definitely manipulative to bring Jimin along. i did my best to paint it as him bringing the whole crew as man power but those of you who've been paying attention know that Jimin is not a fighter, and that at the end of the day, he is absolutely a bargaining chip.

MC comparing Yoongi and Ryujin hurts. I can see what she means but damn does it hurt to admit it. After all is said and done, Yoongi is a shady ass dude with a shaky track record in love. The way he goes about things aren’t always clear and are often very infuriating.

yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhh. sigh lmao. this is something i have been anticipating showing for a long time and i am glad you had thoughts.

i actually had other plans for Ateez, but i scrapped some chunks of my outline that i didn't think suited the story anymore and lost those characters in the process. now they are heeerrrreeeee haha. i also think they fit the vibe, honestly.

I love that you can include such innocent and cute scenes in between the death, sorrow and destruction. 

that's what i do hehehe.

The one on one talk went a lot better than I thought it would. MC needed to let those tears out with Yoongi and I’m more at ease that he is willing to wait for her mental health to get better. Healing takes time and having him/the guys not push for her to come home too soon means a lot.

....................we'll see how this thought has aged in chapter 24 lmao. i know you will have WORDS.

There is a subtle shift in the family dynamics or I could just be reading too much into it but with Seokjin’s bullshit out in the open, it seems to me that everyone is a little more relaxed. Not as on edge with being alive. 

you are so observant 🥰🥰🥰

your observations re: ryujin & yoongi (and ryujin & mc) are on point. definitely nothing is black and white but where are the lines drawn, and where are they grey???

I hope Yoongi puts a fucking bullet in Ryujin’s skull, right between her eyes! This slimy two-faced bitch! Harmless my ass! I want to reach through the screen and punch Ryujin myself!

THANK YOU FOR READINGGGGGGG!!!!!!!! you will get answers soon but i wonder if you will also have more questions. my hope is that from chapter 24 on, all we are doing is answering questions and letting all of the pieces finally fall into place. it's.................going to be a mess haha. SEE YOU SOOONNNN!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 😍🥰💜😍🥰💜

Collateral 🗡️ 23: This life of death and destruction

Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon

🗡️ word count: 13.6k

🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+ 

🗡️warnings: violence (a man gets stabbed in the eye, weaponized chopsticks, blood); recreational drug use & getting drunk; vomit.

🗡️note: are we ready to continue this story??? the cast of characters has doubled in size, and i think the angst & drama has multiplied, as well. i wrote this opening scene on april 20, 2023 moments after watching the Haegeum mv. it feels good to have finally built the rest of the chapter around it over a year later. this chapter is like 80% dialogue, lol sorry. we are setting up for what is to come in the rest of the fic. enjoyyy!!!

🗡️ also note: in this chapter, mc is borrowing clothing. if you are comfortable with imagining the clothing belongs to the thin kpop idols, please do. if you are not, then please don't. i am not making assumptions or allusions to body size but instead trying to paint a picture of being at the mercy of others.

🗡️ if you have not read the Yoongi POV chapter, i strongly recommend you do so before reading this.

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🗡️ posted sept. 2024 | read on ao3

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

“He looks hesitant,” Ryujin drawls in a bored tone. She turns to face you and her lips upturn at the edges, eyes sparkling. “Like he’s scared of what he may find when he gets here.”

The air is stiflingly hot, creating a sticky film over your skin, and your body feels heavier than it should. In this humidity, you are dizzy and agitated. More than anything, you are not ready to come face to face with the man who has caused you so much confusion and mental duress.

“Good,” you say, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Your fingers dig into your hip bones, and you do your best not to shuffle anxiously. You do not fully believe in your conviction, but you want your performance to be believable enough that the girls don't think you're weak. “He should be.”

“Looks like he brought all the family men,” she adds, turned back to watch their approach. 

Your heart flutters suddenly, wondering whether she means Jimin is there too, unable to hide the tremble in your voice as you ask, “A-all of them?”

This time, when Ryujin faces you, her expression appears contemplative, almost sad. 

“All of them,” she confirms, causing nausea and excitement to stir. 

All you can say in response is, “Oh.”

Before you can stop yourself, your feet are carrying you forward, toward the window. You do not fully approach, not wanting to be seen, so you stop as soon as you spot them walking in the street toward the noodle shop downstairs that doubles as your hideout. 

Seven figures approach in a V formation. Six of them wear ratty dark t-shirts and khaki pants, and they hold what look like juvenile weaponry—baseball bats and chains. Over their heads are balaclavas, reminding you of Christian's men. Is it meant to taunt him, you wonder. Do they think they will find him and his men here?

Yoongi is in the center, leading the charge, with no face covering and wearing a baby blue satin bomber jacket with thick white lines down the sleeves. On the breasts of the jacket are embroidered dragon heads, reminding you of Namjoon. 

Namjoon. The thought of seeing him again, like this, makes your insides stir. You feel the urge to vomit, but you hold your ground and watch as the men approach, wearing a frown on your lips. 

When the heads disappear from sight, you turn and listen for the silence that lingers in the air, save for the thrum of your pulse. A calm before a terrible storm.

Ryujin lets out a long, loud trill of a whistle—a signal, no doubt—and you listen as the 

hideout breaks out into chaos. Men scramble through the short hallway that leads out into the open space that Yoongi and his men will soon enter. 

"No guns!" Ryujin commands as she stomps through the space toward the hallway, clad in a white tank top tucked into a short black tennis skirt and tall leather equestrian boots. "You are on the defense only. Do not harm a single hair on any of these men's bodies. Do so and you die!"

As you stand near the window, you listen to the street commotion below. Vehicles drive along the narrow roads, vendors shout while ringing bells and chimes, and in the distance, a dog barks. 

You know that you will not hear the men's approaching footfalls, but you listen for them, anyway. Yoongi and the family men only need to walk through the small dining hall of the open-air restaurant below, then up a flight of stairs. You hear nothing that might give their positions away. 

"Wanna hide?" Hwasa—the nickname of your darling friend Hyejin—asks. She rests her chin on your shoulder and loosely wraps her arms around you, engulfing you in a perfume of roses and lilies.

You shake your head and mutter, "No," watching the doorway for any movement.

Finally, heavy footfalls echo through the space, giving you goosebumps, and when you hear the sounds of shouting followed by someone running into the room, you hold your breath. 

"Fuck, fuck!" a man yells as he rounds the corner and cowers, shaking like a leaf in the wind. He seems to be patting himself down for a weapon, then he sighs and squeezes his eyes closed as he presses his back to the wall. 

"Ya!" Hwasa yells, making the man gasp. "What is it?"

"B-big Duri," the man stammers, eyes wide. He shakes his head quickly as if attempting to clear away his thoughts. 

Duri is a hulk of a man who stands watch at the top of the stairs. He is as muscular as he is tall, with a bit of softness around his belly, and his towering status has earned him the title Big Duri from the other men. One snarl from him makes men cower away in fear.

"What about him?" Hwasa asks.

"He was s-stabbed," the man says, staring at the floor. "In the f-f-fucking eye."

Hwasa drops her arms from around you and stands up straight. You open your mouth to speak but find no sound can pass your lips. 

Footfalls approach, heavy and fast. You are not sure who you expect storming in from the hallway, but for some reason, it is not Yoongi. 

He walks in assuredly like he owns the place, dark hair framing his face in waves. Clenched in his right fist are two bright red chopsticks that look like the ones served at the restaurant downstairs, and you could swear the thinner ends of them are dripping with blood. 

"Darling, let's go," Yoongi says, wide eyes fixed on you. He looks like a madman with his hair somewhat disheveled and a sheen of sweat on his throat.  

You are surprised to see Yoongi dressed as he is. Under the pastel jacket is a white tee tucked into loose-fitting blue jeans. When was the last time you saw him in blue jeans? Your first trip to Hong Kong?

You heavy-blink, breaking from the thought process, and attempt to hold steady and keep cool. But you do not feel cool. Your pulse quickens, and you worry you might faint. 

"I'm staying here," you say, voice trembling. 

You half expect Yoongi to storm over and grab you by the arm. Part of you even feels saddened when he stays where he is. 

"Darling," Yoongi says, lifting his free hand to wave you over. "I'm not asking you twice."

"How many men did you kill out there?" you ask, eyes on the chopsticks that drip blood beside his dusty white sneaker. Yoongi's arm drops to his side and he heaves a weighty sigh, shoulders falling. 

Behind Yoongi, Ryujin saunters in. She grins and stands beside Yoongi, resting her head against his shoulder as she reaches for the bloodied chopsticks in his fist, saying, "You owe me a bodyguard."

Yoongi—whose eyes never leave you—throws the chopsticks to the floor, off to the side. They clatter against the uneven wood, and you wince at the thought of blood splattering. 

He mutters, "Fine." 

With that admission, you surmise that Yoongi has, indeed, stabbed Big Duri in the eye. How he managed to do so when he is so much smaller than the man is beyond you. You would be amused by the visual of Yoongi leaping onto him like a kitten if the situation were not so infuriating. 

Slowly, Ryujin lifts her head from Yoongi's shoulder. She turns her gaze to you as she says, "She doesn't want this life, Yoongi. She told you so, herself."

"Darling," Yoongi says, seemingly ignoring Ryujin, making her roll her eyes. "I will make some changes. We will figure it out. Just come home."

You shake your head. "I told you I wanted to leave."

"You are in danger," Yoongi insists, and you scoff. For the first time since you have arrived to this dingy place, there has been no hint of violence until he turned up. 

As Yoongi sighs, his nostrils flair. You can clearly see that he has something on his mind, but he remains still and silent. 

Anger rises, and you clench your fists at your sides. This is not the reunion you expected, but you cannot say you are shocked. "I told you I no longer want this life, and the first thing you do is stab a man—a good man!"

"Darling, I—" 

"Go home," you interrupt. 

Yoongi watches you, expression cold save for a flicker of sadness in his eyes. Every nerve in your body wants to propel you forward and into his arms, but you do not want to return to the home of a maniac who attacks men with chopsticks, beautiful as that maniac may be. 

"I have told you time and again that I cannot handle this life of death and destruction! And here you are, bringing it straight to my feet. Go home, Yoongi."

Yoongi tongues the inside of his cheek, raising his eyebrows. In the doorway, you see Namjoon appear, balaclava raised to his forehead. His dark grey tee is smeared with sweat and blood, and before he can open his mouth to speak, you turn around. There is absolutely no way you will be able to keep your strength if you are forced to face any more of them. 

"She wants you to leave," Hwasa says. You are grateful for her as you hear the heels of her boots against the rickety hardwood. "Now!"

"I want to speak to her," Namjoon says, and you are surprised to hear Yoongi say, "She does not wish to speak. Come on."

As their deep, low voices mutter, tears fill your eyes. You breathe in deeply, hoping to ward them off, but as you exhale, the air comes out shattered, and you know that you are only moments away from crying. 

"Tomorrow night, we can sit down and discuss matters," Ryujin says. 

You keep your eyes on the late afternoon sky, hanging on her every word. 

"Amicably," she continues. "No weapons. No hot tempers. And you have a man en route to Busan to take Duri's place when we arrive. Deal?"

"All of us?" Namjoon asks, and you fight the edges of your lips, which curl into a sad smile. 

Ryujin sighs. "Yes, all seven of you sordid little devils. Now get the fuck out of my hideout. You gave our darling a scare and I will not have her fainting because of it. I will send you a time and place, and you will show up dressed as respectable men. Seriously, what the fuck are you guys wearing? You look like trash."

Ryujin's voice fades as she continues to berate them, footsteps retreating, and it occurs to you once more that somewhere out in the chaos is Jimin. You turn, and the movement causes Yoongi's head to lift and eyes to open wide and expectantly, standing halfway in the hallway. You were not expecting him to still be here. To your disappointment, Namjoon has already left the room.

"Is Jimin here?" you ask. 

Relief floods Yoongi's face, and he cracks a smile, nodding as he says, "Yes. Come see him."

You shake your head, blinking back the tears that threaten to fall. 

"Glad he's awake," you say. "Perhaps I will see you all tomorrow." 

Yoongi's expression turns sad, and you watch as he mouths the word perhaps before you turn your attention back to the window. The sound of his shoes retreating makes you want to throw up, and you swallow it down as a single tear streaks your left cheek. 

* * *

Ryujin lies on a large fur rug that she has pulled near the window. Atop the rug is a mess of blankets and pillows, and her limbs tangle with those of Hwasa and the other three girls. 

You sit arrow straight on the wide window sill, staring at the street below. The sky slowly darkens, illuminating the buildings with an orange glow that is exaggerated by the neon lights on each restaurant and storefront. 

"Yes, Yoongi," Ryujin says into her phone, playful irritation in her tone. "I swear to you there is nobody by that name in our ranks. Seokjin-oppa has already warned me about his possible presence."

You listen, hoping to hear traces of Yoongi's voice coming through the phone, but you know that it is hopeless; his dulcet tones do not exactly travel far even while in the same room as him. Muffled and at a distance, the notion is hopeless.

"You know," Ryujin continues, "you would have less to worry about if you hadn't stabbed my most trusty security guard in the fucking eye with a chopstick."

Her words make you wince, and you turn away from the window, staring at the empty wall opposite where Ryujin and the girls rest. The floral wallpaper is peeled in places and tinted brown from water damage, but otherwise, the space is clean and empty, save for six suitcases and the items Ryujin has brought in and strewn about for comfort. 

Outside of this room is a hallway that connects to more rooms, though you have not bothered to look into any of them, save for the bathroom, which is the first room to the right as you exit this one. Whatever this hideout was originally built for, you do not know, and you do not care, although you imagine at least one of the rooms could serve as office space for the restaurant below. 

A shrill laugh barks through the air, making you jump. You gaze over your shoulder to find Ryujin's head tilted back, eyes closed as she full-body laughs. 

"Don't be a fucking idiot," she says, opening her eyes to meet your gaze. "No scrub in clown paint is going to buy our little darling from me. Now get some sleep; we'll talk about this tomorrow evening, as promised."

Something about Ryujin calling you our little darling sends a chill along your spine, and you turn back to staring at nothing. She ends the call abruptly, and you hear as her phone clatters against the wooden floor, undoubtedly tossed aside. 

"Darling," Ryujin calls, voice soft and pretty, causing your shoulders to rise to your ears as if protecting you—from what, you are unsure. 

You swallow hard. "Hmm?"

Ryujin giggles. "Come. You're so tense. Relax with us."

She is correct that you are tense. You have been tense for days. When you got into her car at the airport, she said you would be here for two or three days, but it is going on a week, and you are tired of sleeping on rugs in a pile of bodies. You want to return to a bed. Any bed. 

As you turn to face Ryujin and the others, you are struck by a sense of homesickness and longing that makes your stomach churn. Hwasa and three slender beauties called Solar, Wheein, and Moonbyul crowd Ryujin, who sits up on her elbows, gaze fixed on you.

Hwasa's head is against Ryujin's left shoulder, near her breast, and she watches you, as well, gaze soft but pleading. Moonbyul, with her long, straight hair lightened to a pale gold blonde, has her head on Hwasa's tummy, curled in on her. The other two are resting similarly, with Solar clinging to Ryujin and Wheein clinging to Solar, long dark hair draped over limbs which are draped over more limbs clad in white cotton and black spandex. 

You watch them in their near-stillness, questioning where you would fit. Clearly, the five of them are tight. They call her mother, and she proudly dotes on them as if they are her precious children.

Ordinarily, you wait for everyone to begin dozing off, then you curl up on one of the outside edges, back turned from whichever woman is beside you. But you know that Ryujin wants you to be physically close to her—you can tell by the way she watches you.

What would physical closeness to a woman like her entail, you wonder. 

"So shy," Ryujin pouts. "So moody."

Hwasa, as if mirroring her energy, juts out her bottom lip. 

Ryujin tilts her head, studying you. "What does the lady require to help take the edge off?"

Although she is not explicitly saying so, you know that she is offering pills. Every day that you do not give in and crawl to Ryujin and her pile of women, she assumes it is due to some defect in your ability to relax. In a way, you suppose, she is correct. 

"Going home would take the edge off," you respond, voice flat and lacking all mirth.

Ryujin sighs, and her pretty, impish smile falls into a dramatic frown. "I, too, would like to go home. And I promise that we will, soon. Yoongi is convinced there is some third party attempting to track you down, and he has been insistent on weeding the man out. He seems to think that you are safest while remaining in hiding. I, however, think we are sitting ducks."

You hum and nod.

She sits up ever so slightly, causing the clinging women to shift along with her movement. "What do you think?"

What do you think? Such a simple, innocent question, yet it stirs an anger in you that is so deep, festering in the dark pits of you that are fed by lack of proper comfort and sleep. 

There is a part of you that wants to snap at Ryujin and ask whether she really cares what you think. You want to storm up to her, take her by the straps of her white tank top, and shake some sense into her while demanding she returns you to Korea at once. 

Another part of you worries that Yoongi is being too paranoid to think clearly and that he is making an already strange situation worse. You find it hard to believe Christian has weaseled his way into Taiwan and is lying in wait to pounce, if that is what the phone call just now suggests.

But, then again, you never would have imagined Christian would show up with a briefcase of money, nor did you expect to see him turning up to the mansion in the middle of the night. Still, the notion feels ridiculous. You're not in Korea anymore. 

You shrug, purse your lips as if you are thinking it over, and say, "I don't really know."

Truth be told, you are exhausted, catapulting emotionally from one extreme to another, finding it impossible to truly relax. You are not sure whether Ryujin has done anything to deserve your vitriol; she has kept you safe and fed, even if you are slowly succumbing to exhaustion-induced hysteria. 

Her history with Yoongi notwithstanding, she appears reasonable and kind. It is hard to hate her for her past when it has opened up Yoongi's arms to you—for better or worse. It is not as if you regret the time you have spent with him.

And, if you are being honest, you wonder whether the transgression between them was as simple as the men put it, or if there is more to her side of the story. Surely, she did not wake up one day and decide to betray the man she loved.

Or, perhaps, she is charming you the way Yoongi did. What better way to tame a wild beast than to uproot it from the comfort and safety it has grown accustomed to and force it into close proximity, giving it no other choice than to be grateful and eventually feel some semblance of love toward its captor. Maybe she and Yoongi have more in common than you realize.

The thought makes you snicker, and you stand, taking notice of how Ryujin lifts her chin and watches you. Hwasa stirs and sits up, causing Moonbyul to roll off of her with a groan and clench onto the pillow below her.

"Going to the bathroom," you say.

Hwasa stands as Ryujin sing-songs, "Buddy system," causing you to smile and roll your eyes. 

You are not allowed to do anything outside of this room—including taking a shit—without the accompaniment of one of the girls. Lucky for you, Hwasa is always willing and eager to be close.  

Hwasa tiptoes over and snakes an arm around your elbow, momentarily resting her head on your shoulder as the two of you walk. You have come to enjoy her company quite a bit, and you are relieved to have her here. 

While it was shocking to lay eyes on Hwasa after your plane landed in Taiwan, she was very clear and open about her circumstances, and you found it easy to trust her. According to her, Seokjin and Jimin gave her the position at Paradise knowing she was one of Ryujin's women, reminding you of Hyunjin and how he and his family were safe, after all. 

Yoongi may not have been working directly with Ryujin this entire time, but it seems that his men have been. And, judging by how comfortable he seemed with letting Ryujin touch him and boss him around earlier, you do not suspect that he harbors the same ill thoughts that he seemed to when you first encountered her all those months ago. 

You wonder what has changed. Has it been your presence in his life, or something more? After all the destruction Ryujin's team has caused Yoongi's family over the last several months, ending with Jimin in a coma, some sort of truce had to have been made. You have heard whispers of conversations, but you are curious about the specifics. It seems the woman who was at the helm of the destruction, Hyungseo, is not here. 

In due time, you think. You have no doubt Ryujin will open up to you.

As you and Hwasa leave the room and venture quietly into the hall, two armed men look up from the game of Chinese checkers that they play on the floor, and smile. They are beautiful, and you smile back, yanking your gaze away from them before you are able to make any more of an impression on either of them.

Admittedly, you are lonely. Physically, emotionally, sexually…and there is something in the gleams of their eyes that stirs you deeply, but you know that it is not them who do it for you. 

It is their eyes. They share the same piercing, knowing gaze of hunger and brutality that glimmers in the eyes of the family men. Your family men. 

"I think Yunho likes you," Hwasa teases, voice loud enough for him to undoubtedly hear, though you do not turn back to look. 

Instead, you press your palm against the cold metal door leading into the small bathroom and sheepishly ask, "Which one is he, again?"

A snicker comes from the floor, undoubtedly from Yunho's companion Seonghwa, and you turn as you enter the dimly lit room, grinning widely at your friend. The bathroom door swings shut, and the scents of toilet cleaner and bleach sting your nose. 

There are three toilet stalls in this room with mint green painted metal doors. The walls are a similar shade of green, and the yellow and white tiles on the floor are chipped in places.

You make your way to the sinks straight ahead and turn on the water, which is always cold, and run your hands under the stream. On the counter, in the corner, is a large black makeup case containing travel-sized toiletries for yourself and the rest of the women, and you open its lid and rummage around for your toothbrush and toothpaste. 

"How are you holding up?" Hwasa asks as you unscrew the cap from the toothpaste and squeeze a small dollop of its contents onto your bristles, careful not to take too much. 

You shrug, and rather than respond, raise the brush to your mouth. The mint is cloyingly sweet as it hits your taste buds, and you close your eyes, worried that its minty sting may tangle with your emotions and cause tears to well.

"Will you be joining Ryujin to meet with them for dinner tomorrow?"

Without opening your eyes, you begin to shake your head, not sure whether you can handle sitting at the same table with all of them. But then Jimin's bright, gleaming smile crosses your mind, and you shrug and nod. You may as well. 

Hwasa chuckles, and her hands rest softly on your shoulders before giving a gentle squeeze. All at once, you relax, dropping your shoulders and tipping your head forward, instinctively giving her permission to do anything she would like. 

As you finish brushing your teeth and tongue, she squeezes your muscles and rolls her thumbs in circles. You hold the small plastic brush between your teeth, feeling a dribble of frothy, minty spit roll down your lip to your chin, and you rest your palms against the counter until Hwasa lifts her hands away. 

"I suppose I should brush my teeth, too," she says with a pout in her tone, and you open your eyes to see her squirting some paste onto a matching toothbrush that she has written AH on in large letters for Ahn Hyejin. 

You spit, rinse, and spit some more, then use the inside of your sweaty black tank top to dab the moisture from the edges of your mouth. When Hwasa is finished, the two of you link arms once more and make your way out of the bathroom, ignoring Yunho and Seonghwa as you walk by. 

The rest of the girls, led by Ryujin, walk by in a fit of soft giggles, and you make your way to the pile of blankets and pillows, feeling physically exhausted despite being uncertain of whether you may actually be able to sleep. 

Hwasa follows and lies down beside you, beaming as she scoots nice and close and wraps an arm around your waist before you have a chance to roll away and face the wall. 

"Not so fast," she says, causing you to chuckle despite yourself. "You always roll away. Snore in my face for once."

Affronted, you attempt to wiggle out of her hold, surprised by how strong she is as she holds you in place. "I do not snore."

Hwasa rolls her eyes, says, "Everyone snores a little," and wiggles closer as her hold on you loosens—so close your noses nearly touch.

You feel too warm, and the scent of Hwasa's perfume mingling with her body heat stirs something inside you, filling you with the urge to flee. You are lonely, and she is beautiful and soft, and suddenly it feels as if all the air has been sucked from the room.

At a loss, you close your eyes. Whether you roll your body away or continue to face her, she will not create more distance because she cannot. As soon as the other girls return, they will pile into the bed, and you will feel the weight of ankles and wrists drape over you. 

"Good night, pretty dove," Hwasa sing-songs. 

You crack a smile, unable to hold back despite how dangerous it feels to allow yourself to be anything but stoic and collected for the time being. The nickname reminds you of Paradise and of Jimin, and you are unable to hold back. 

"Good night, Hyejin," you mutter in response, forgetting her nickname for the familiar one as her warmth and comfort lulls you fast into a sleep you did not expect to come. 

You actually feel…good.

* * *

The rattle and clanking of dishes and silverware have all of your nerves on high alert, causing your pulse to spike and your palms to sweat. You are acutely aware of the fact that at any moment, several men you miss and adore are going to come walking into the private dining room to join you, Ryujin, and Hwasa, and you are going to have to face them.

Each time a member of the serving staff enters, your eyes dart up in panic, and each time they bow apologetically, confusion painted across their features. Under the table, from your right, Hwasa grips onto your hand and mutters kind words that are lost over the pounding of your heart. 

When your trio arrived first, you were grateful. You assumed that by the time you waited on the arrival of the men, your nerves would have calmed and you would have composed yourself. 

But you were wrong. Oh, how you were wrong. 

With each passing second, your heart riots behind your ribs, quick and dizzying. You feel the urge to excuse yourself to the bathroom, but you are terrified of what it may do to Yoongi if he arrives to find that you are not sitting at this table. 

Food and drink are brought in. Large dishes covered in steaming meat, vegetables, rice, and noodles. Carafe after carafe is set down, and as you sit forward to peer into one of them, Hwasa says, "That is kaoliang. Fermented liquor from China." Your mouth begins to water, but you are not sure you are ready just yet to start drinking. 

Shadows linger outside the door to the private room, tall and wide blobs obscured by the privacy glass. Ryujin glances at her watch, mutters, "Fucking finally," and stands, causing Hwasa to stand as well. 

You remain glued to your seat. Even if you wanted to stand, you are not sure you would be able to. 

As the door slides open, your heart pounds. Seokjin enters with a smirk and a bow of his head, followed by Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, Jeongguk, Namjoon, and finally, Yoongi. 

Jimin beams, eyes and mouth wide and happy, and he rounds the table in a rush, pushing past Ryujin, who attempts to pull him into a hug. Your eyes fill with tears, and as you finally get onto your feet, legs wobbling beneath you, the tears spill, streaking your cheeks. 

You stumble and crash into the papered wall from the force of Jimin's hug, elbow scraping and stinging, but you do not care. Jimin smells and feels so familiar, and you sob in his arms, burying your face into his black lapel and letting out a deep, shattered breath.

"Oh my god," you manage to mutter against his shoulder, and he tries to loosen the hug to hear you speak, but you shake your head like a petulant child and pull him closer, refusing to let go. "I was so scared, Jimin. I thought I might never— I've missed you so much."

Voices greet one another, and chairs scrape across the floor, signaling that the others have begun to find their seats. This time, when Jimin begins to release the hug, you allow him, dropping your hands from his shoulders but holding them loosely around his hips.

Jimin's eyes are glassy with tears, and hair is slightly longer, almost grown out into a mullet. For the first time since you have met him, it is brown, and you mutter, "Nice hair," while doing your best to smile widely despite still crying. 

He grimaces at you, lifting his hands to thumb away the moisture under your eyes. Then he leans in, kisses the tip of your nose, and says, "All better, dove."

"Thank you," you whisper, sound lodged in your throat, then you release Jimin for good and pivot to take your seat, taking a deep breath before allowing your eyes to fall on the rest of the men. 

To your surprise and dismay, you find Ryujin sitting across from you with her eyebrows raised and a sharp, devious smile playing on her lips. To her left is Hwasa, and to her right is Jeongguk. You do not need to look to see that Yoongi and Namjoon have taken the seats on either side of you because of course, they have. Where else would they be?

But you do look. You sweep the sprawling rectangular table, starting with Namjoon at your left, then Hoseok, with Seokjin at the far end, where you anticipated Yoongi might sit. Past Seokjin is Taehyung, then Jeongguk, then Ryujin, who is leaning to the side and whispering something to Hwasa, whose hand reaches to where Jimin sits on the other far end. 

Jimin inspects Hwasa's rings and nails, dainty fingers tracing delicate lines. When she turns back to look at him, there are tears in her eyes, and you realize belatedly that she has missed him, as well. Of course, she has.

You do not look at Yoongi, gaze ending with Jimin. Yoongi clears his throat, causing Ryujin to stand, and—feeling uncomfortable with also standing while she speaks—you quickly have a seat. 

Ryujin bows her head, hair pulled in a tight bun at the back of her head. She, matching Hwasa, wears a black suit with a white silk blouse, blending in with the black suits and black satin undershirts the men wear. You are the odd one out in a sleek black evening gown; Ryujin was insistent. At least it, too, is satin. 

"Gentlemen," Ryujin says, and all at once, the men stand, bow their heads, and sit, including Yoongi, who scoots in close beside you. "Thank you for joining us tonight. I trust you have found us a replacement bodyguard?"

Yoongi hums a gruff, low note, and you are acutely aware of his presence by your side. His scent—earthy and musky, ever so slightly tinged with citrus—sneaks past the savory blend of food smells and floods your senses. You swallow a lump of trepidation that has crept its way to your throat. 

"First of all, I would like to thank you for trusting me with taking care of our little darling," Ryujin says, turning to look at Seokjin. She remains standing. "As you are all aware, things between Yoongi and I have not always been easy. But, moving forward, I would like for all of us to remain amicable."

At this, Ryujin's eyes land on Yoongi. She appears fierce and ruthless in the way she looks down at him, lips upturned as if to show that she is enjoying this position of power. 

You glance from the corner of your eye to find that Yoongi peers back up at her, sitting tall on the edge of his seat. His expression is blank, as is to be expected. There is a long pause during which you wish someone would speak or move to eat or drink—anything to cut through the tension.

Finally, Yoongi folds his arms over his chest and sits back, shifting his weight in a more relaxed position. He clears his throat, and you turn your gaze to the piles of meats, vegetables, noodles, and rice. 

It sounds as if Yoongi attempts more than once to speak but struggles to find the words. At this, Namjoon sits forward, pulling your attention to the left, and he asks, "May I?"

Ryujin's face lights up. "Of course, Joonie-oppa. The floor is yours."

"Firstly, thank you for your hospitality. The hideout was certainly difficult to locate—"

Ryujin snickers. At this, Jeongguk stands, facing her, "Look, noona, if you would have answered your phone, we never would have shown up there with—"

"Sit down," Ryujin snaps, turning a playful but intense glare on Jeongguk, whose mouth snaps shut as he takes his seat. Beside him, Taehyung snickers. "I didn't answer my phone because I wanted to converse with her before making any choices, and you idiots acted irrationally."

At the word her, Ryujin lifts her hand and gestures to you, momentarily pulling your gaze. Although you do not glance around, you are certain that all heads turn to look your way, causing you to shift uncomfortably in your seat while you begin watching droplets of condensation streak your water glass.  

"Pardon us for being concerned," Yoongi responds, voice tense and pained. 

This seems to quell whatever emotion that has Ryujin acting defensive, and she slowly takes her seat and reaches for the bottle of kaoliang. All seem to be waiting for her response, and she takes her time lifting her glass to her lips and sitting back in her chair. 

"Nobody faults you for being concerned, oppa. But you need to be more considerate of the reason she has come to me in the first place."

Yoongi must open his mouth to speak once more because Ryujin lifts her hand to stop him before she continues. 

"Yes, I know that you are concerned for her safety, especially in the wake of some mysterious man from her past showing up out of nowhere. But she was already planning on leaving for mental health reasons. So maybe storming in with chopsticks blazing is not the wisest way to reunite with someone who is already shell-shocked from all the other bullshit she has had to witness."

"Some of the bullshit was at the hands of your people," Namjoon interjects. 

Ryujin levels her gaze on him. "The most heinous bullshit, I would imagine. And as you can see, Hyungseo is not present. I am dealing with her, and Seokjin, Yoongi, and I have already discussed ways I can help with harm reduction."

Your gaze moves to the right, to Jimin, and you are surprised to find he is already looking at you. You smile, unable to stop the tears that form from how relieved you are that he is alright. 

"I know that trust has been tarnished between our families, and that myself and my girls have taken things too far," Ryujin admits. "I sent my people out to scare you, and they did so much more than that. I will never stop feeling sorry for what has happened. Not a night has gone by that I have not been filled with regret over someone so precious to all of us becoming seriously injured."

Ryujin lifts an arm, reaches over Hwasa, and holds out her hand to Jimin. He takes it without hesitation. 

"He could have died," Jeongguk says, brows knit in a frown. 

Ryujin sighs. "I know this, Ggukie. And I am so, so sorry. I am determined to quash any bad blood and begin earning your respect. Tomorrow we leave for Busan. Once we are all back home, Serendipity will be opened for a night of drinking, drugs…whatever you heathens do."

To your surprise, many of the men snicker, amused. 

"Seokjin and Hoseok already have a security team on standby so that you are not only relying on my people to keep you safe," Ryujin continues. "The era of family feuding is over. I am happy with my little piece of the peninsula, and I want drug operations to continue in a way that is lucrative for both of us. We will remain your first line of defense in the harbor, and in return, all that I ask is that we get free reign in Seoul to come and go."

Yoongi clears his throat. "If Sunmi-noona will accept the offer, she can be your liaison in the city once more."

At this, a mischievous smirk tugs on Ryujin's lips. She gives Jimin's hand a squeeze before releasing it, then raises both elbows to the table to cradle her chin in her hands. "Tell me, oppa. Why does Sunmi-unnie spit at my feet whenever I mention your name?"

Yoongi says nothing. 

Rather than press him, she winks, then reaches for a large metal spoon and begins to fill her dish. Everyone hesitates, and it is Jeongguk who breaks the tension and follows suit, scooping food onto Taehyung's plate and causing the others to act in kind. You sit still, unsure whether you have an appetite. 

"Darling?" Yoongi asks at the same time two fingers gently caress the back of your arm. 

Your evening gown is a form-hugging halter top with a low back, leaving your skin open to soft, delicate assaults like the ones Yoongi likes to conduct in gentle motions. You flinch but try not to pull your arm away, worried about hurting his feelings.

Yoongi chuckles softly. "Are you not hungry?"

You shake your head but mutter, "I don't know."

"Should I have sat elsewhere?" he asks. He shifts as if he is looking over and around you, and you imagine he is speaking nonverbally to Namjoon. 

The room is too bright, the food and cologne smells are too numerous, and the sounds of voices and silverware and porcelain are too loud. You raise your shoulders to your ears, then turn toward Yoongi, still unable to meet his eye as you ask, "Can we talk somewhere else?"

Yoongi stands, says, "Excuse us for just a moment," and waits for you. 

As you stand, you catch Ryujin's eye. She appears concerned and places her palms on the table as if ready to stand and defend you. 

You nod and say, "We'll be right back," and watch as she relaxes. 

A warm palm presses against your lower back, and Yoongi guides you toward the door, out into a small hallway, and to the left. The restaurant's main dining hall is to the right, and you are thankful to walk in the opposite direction, not sure whether you can handle another person's eyes on you. 

Yoongi walks into an empty private dining room, switches on the light, and holds out his arm for you to enter. As you step inside, you hear him conversing softly with who you assume to be an employee, and then he joins you, closing the door behind him.

As you stand and face the large, empty dining room, you expect Yoongi to touch you or prod you into speaking. Perhaps you expect him to beg you to return home. Instead, he seems to be waiting.

After only a handful of seconds, you decide you cannot take it anymore. Every ounce of you yearns for Yoongi, and knowing he is so close and being so patient has you reeling. You turn and quickly step toward him, reaching for his lapels and burying your face against his chest. He smells like home, and as he wraps his arms around you, warmth fills your chest, and you begin to cry.

"I'm sorry," you say. "I'm sorry I had to leave. I miss you, Yoongi, but I can't stand being there. I can't do it."

"Shh," Yoongi whispers, lips pressing to your temple, causing you to cry harder. It has only been a week, and yet you feel as if you have been away from him for so long. 

"I'm sorry we keep creating distance. I don't know how to make it work out. I'm so scared, Yoongi." You are fumbling, mouth on autopilot, dredging up each time you and Yoongi were apart, feeling somehow responsible for everything despite knowing you have always only done your best. 

"Yesterday was a mistake," Yoongi says, peppering kisses from the crown of your hair to your cheek and back up. "I was terrified and not in my right mind. You left in a frenzy, and then there was that letter, and it all been very confusing—"

You sniffle loudly, letting out a sound that halfway sounds like a laugh. "Oh my god, the letter. I'm so sorry."

Yoongi chuckles, gently grabs your shoulders, and pries you away from his chest. You allow him to move you, and you stand straight but keep your eyes on his black satin shirt. You do not want to see his scar or the pretty way in which his eyes downturn when he is sad. 

His voice is soft and conspiratorial as he says, "I almost killed Seokjin after I found it."

With wide, surprised eyes, you look up, unable to hold back any longer. Yoongi's smile is loving and big, and his eyes sparkle with happiness, making your stomach roil with uncertainty. His scar is still so red against his soft skin, but it adds so much to his allure and beauty.

"I was under the impression you were running away with Barom, what with the timing of it all. You packed a bag, left behind all of our gifts, and disappeared into the night the moment he arrived."

Despite Yoongi's high spirits, you shake your head somewhat desperately. "I wrote it earlier that day, thinking I might run away a night or two later. I was scared that if I said goodbye, I wouldn't be able to leave." Tears build once more, and your body goes limp, hanging against the weight of Yoongi's hands. "Yoongi, I'm so—"

"Alright, no more sorries," Yoongi says, pressing against your shoulders enough to signal that he would like you to stand up and get your shit together. "Seokjin explained your conversations and motives to us already, and I have long since forgiven the both of you. I understand why you felt you had to sneak away. Remember when I went missing in Hong Kong? I was also in the midst of a mental health crisis, darling. I have no hard feelings."

You straighten out and search Yoongi's eyes for any hint of dishonesty, but all you find is a soft, loving gaze looking back at you. With a relieved sigh, you step forward and wrap your arms around him, pressing the side of your cheek against his chest and listening to the steady beat of his heart. 

"I love you," you say, feeling the words fill you with warmth. 

Yoongi drapes one arm over your shoulders and rests his other hand against the back of your head. "I love you, too," he says. "And if you need time and space, I will give it to you. Despite everything, I trust the girls to take good care of you."

"Is it weird?" you ask, pulling out of the hug and stepping back only far enough to see Yoongi's face. His only response is to raise one eyebrow. "Being around her again, I mean. Was she always so bossy?"

Yoongi chuckles and shakes his head. "I suppose it is a little weird, but we were friends first and foremost, and being friendly with her again feels easy. She has not always been that bossy, per se, but she has always been strong-willed enough to face all seven of us down the way she did tonight."

This makes you laugh, and you lean into Yoongi once more, tilting your head to press your lips to his throat, just under his chin. 

"Thank you," you say. Yoongi hums, and you add, "For giving me time and space. For being understanding. That night was a fucking mess, and I have been really scared for what the aftermath may look like."

"No hard feelings," Yoongi repeats. "As long as you are happy."

All at once, you are flooded with myriad thoughts. Are you happy? This last week, while being more or less calm on your nerves, has also been lonely and strange. Would you feel better if you cut your losses and went back home to your men, where everything felt familiar again? Could you cycle through medications until finding the magical cocktail that would allow you to be whole again?

No, you think. Probably not. 

"Are you sure?" you ask, voice soft and uncertain. "I don't know how long I might need. I can't promise—"

Yoongi kisses your forehead, pressing his lips slowly as he hums. He says, "I'm sure. We can figure it out one day at a time."

With everything out in the open, your stomach pangs with hunger. You smile and ask, "Can we go eat now?" and you are delighted when Yoongi smiles with relief and says, "Yes, of course."

With his thumbs, Yoongi rubs below your eyes. His hands linger on your cheeks, and you expect him to lean forward and kiss you, but he drops his hands a beat later, then grabs onto one of yours and asks, "Shall we?"

Yoongi leads the two of you back to the dining room, and as you enter, you are pleased to find the entire table has erupted into pleasant conversation. Jeongguk's arm is draped over Ryujin's chair while Hwasa emphatically tells them a story, and Jimin is leaning close, listening with his chin propped onto his hands. 

Taehyung is explaining something while glancing between Namjoon, Seokjin, and Hoseok, and as you and Yoongi round the table and return, nobody acknowledges the two of you until you take a seat and Namjoon—eyes still on Taehyung—gently places a hand on your knee. 

It is only when you begin to reach for half-empty bowls of food that Namjoon takes your plate in his hand that you realize how long it has been since the two of you have spoken. You are once again overwhelmed with emotion and fight the urge to say sorry a hundred more times. 

Instead, he points with a large metal spoon and says, "Both of these dishes have a tangy garlic sauce, but this one is a bit more spicy."

"I'd like to try both," you say, watching as Namjoon spoons a heap of chicken with vegetables onto your dish, followed by a heap of tofu and peanuts with vegetables in a slightly redder sauce full of chopped red peppers. 

As Namjoon sets your plate in front of you, you reach with your long metal chopsticks with the intent to gather some noodles from a dish that is across from Yoongi, out of Namjoon's reach. However, Yoongi takes the dish and begins to scoop some onto a smaller plate for you, and you sit back with a smile and wait for him to finish. 

"Still having those dreams?" Namjoon asks.

You know in an instant that he is referring to the dream that you wrote about in your letter, and you feel silly as you bite your bottom lip and nod. 

"That has to be really stressful," he says, reaching for a pitcher of water to fill his empty glass. 

You smile sadly, imagining his white shirt filling with blood. It is stressful, but— "On the plus side, I get to see you."

As you lift your gaze to meet Namjoon's, his furrowed brow and wilted frown gently lift, not quite into a smile, but at least something a bit more relaxed. 

"Hi," you say softly, taking in Namjoon's familiar, beautiful face.

His smile widens, creasing his cheeks with dimples. He mutters, "Hey, you," and the soft, dulcet tone of his voice fills your chest with warmth. 

You open your mouth to tell him that you love him. That you miss him. That you're sorry for leaving. So, so sorry. 

But Ryujin loudly asks, "Caviar?" pulling the attention of everyone at the table. 

Behind her, waitstaff hold new plates, and everyone nods in agreement before continuing their conversations. And although you could pour your heart out now, Hoseok steals Namjoon's attention away, and you decide the moment has passed.

Food and drink continue to appear in waves, and suddenly, you are tipsy and full and tired. Namjoon stands to walk around the table and have a quiet conversation with Ryujin, and Jimin seizes the opportunity to steal his seat. He and Jeongguk discuss business operations at Paradise while you rest your head against his shoulder and close your eyes listening to the sound of his voice. He is alive. He is awake. 

He speaks slower, and there is a rough quality to his voice that was not present before. It seems to take him more time to process what is said to him, and he reacts as if on a delay. But he is here and alive and awake. 

Only when more kaoliang is poured, and Ryujin raises a toast do you sit up and take your cup. You barely hear what she shouts, booze and excitement slurring her speech, but you make out the words together, family, and happy, and you tap your small glass against as many as you can reach before shooting the strong liquid down.

A large, warm hand rests on your right knee, and as you set down your empty glass, you turn to find Yoongi watching you, glassy-eyed with a smile on his lips. You attempt to smile back but instead, swallow thickly and search for something to say. Luckily, he speaks first.

“Do you have any idea how difficult it has been without you at home?” Yoongi’s gaze becomes pained but remains soft, tugging at your heart. 

And although the sentiment is sweet, you are unable to ignore the impossibility of his question. In fact, for some inexplicable reason—you suppose you must blame the alcohol—you become somewhat annoyed.

You ask, “How could I possibly know that? And anyway, don't you have your hands full as it is?”

Across the table, Jeongguk snickers. It takes Yoongi a second to react, and you are glad when the corners of his lips raise into another smile, even if just for a second. 

“Being around those girls has made you sassier than you were before, darling,” he mutters under his breath. 

You roll your eyes. “It has only been a week, darling.”

Leaning close, elbows on the table, Yoongi lowers his voice and says, “It only took me about a week to begin wearing you down.”

Arousal stirs from the tone of his voice, but so does your stomach. Being kidnapped and worn down is not exactly a topic that you delight in discussing. You must not show your dissatisfaction, however, because Yoongi leans in close and presses a soft, warm kiss against your cheek. 

As the raucous dinner comes to an end and you begin to wish everyone a safe trip home, Jeongguk finally approaches. You have been holding back the urge to kick him in the shin all night, feeling somewhat scorned by his lack of attention. 

"So you're going to stay with the girls?" he asks, standing close enough to wrap you in an embrace but keeping his arms to his sides.

You nod and find it hard to hold his eye contact, looking down at his satin-clad shoulder instead. Jeongguk lifts a hand and delicately places two fingers under your chin, tilting your head until you look him in the eyes. The contact of his skin against yours sends an electric current through you, and you shiver. 

"Call me if you need anything. I can be to Busan in a matter of hours."

Sheepishly, you glance down again and mutter, "I don't have anyone's number anymore."

Jeongguk drops his hand, turns to the left, and says, "Seokjin-hyung! What the fuck, man?"

Arguing ensues, but you are too distracted by Namjoon wrapping his arms around your side and pressing his lips to your neck. Suddenly, your bones are jelly, and you stumble to the right, leaning your weight against his embrace. Yoongi joins, taking your chin in his hand in a similar fashion to Jeongguk, and tilting your lips against his. 

"We'll be ready whenever you are," Namjoon insists, lips grazing over your skin. "Whatever you need…please don't shut us out."

Somewhere behind Namjoon, Seokjin shouts, "Yah! I'll upload everyone to her contact list. Quit fussing!"

"Okay," you mutter while smiling against Yoongi's retreating mouth, unable to find anything more substantial to say despite it all lying in wait at the tip of your tongue all night. 

"We miss you," Yoongi says, pressing another kiss against your temple. "But we can wait if that is what you need."

Tears well and you fight the urge to sob. Not here, you tell yourself. Not now. You have already cried so much.

You hug everyone, even Seokjin and Hoseok. Jeongguk attempts to play it cool, but he stares at your lips the entire time, and you practically beg him to kiss you before ultimately letting him walk away. Jimin litters your cheeks and temples with loud, wet smooches, causing you to giggle and shriek. 

Taehyung asks about your medication, making your heart ache from his kindness. You briefly inform him that you have been having no dizzy spells, and he promises to send you more medication as soon as you are in Busan. 

Finally, Namjoon and Yoongi pull you into another three-way hug and take turns kissing your lips, cheeks, and forehead. They mutter soft, sweet phrases that you only make out the tones of, feeling the whooshing of your pulse as you begin to question whether you are making a huge mistake and should just grab your shit and go home. 

And then, all waving and clambering out the door haphazardly, they are gone, and the room is quiet. 

You sigh and glance around at the dregs of food and alcohol, feeling simultaneously full and empty in more ways than one. Tears fill the edges of your eyes, and you do your best not to blink, worried that any movement will cause them to spill. 

Ryujin sighs loudly. "Alright, well, this was fun and all, but I want to get fucking laid. You girls down for a night on the town?"

You glance down at your outfit, ready to complain, only you look good enough to go to a nightclub and find you have nothing to say to the contrary. You even wear a pair of cozy black ballet slippers, which you slid on while feeling unsure whether you could handle so many tumultuous emotions while wearing heels, and for that, you are grateful. 

"Sure," you utter while turning to Hwasa, who has a drunk but devious grin tugging on her lips. Her smile widens and she claps excitedly.

The drive to the nightclub is long, and you are exhausted by the time you arrive, having been fading in and out of a stupor. You feel more drunk than you had earlier, and you are tempted to suggest taking a cab back to the hideout alone. Of course, that would never fly. You can already hear Ryujin singing buddy system in your head.

Hwasa eagerly pulls you from the back of the car and chuckles as she rubs her fingertips along the edge of your hairline and says, "Poor sleeping beauty. We'll get you something that will wake you up, okay?"

You respond with a halfhearted smile and nod, and she takes your hand in hers and yanks you to the door, not bothering to stop for the security guard who, to your surprise, makes no move to stop you either. Inside, loud bass-heavy club music plays, and you are led through a series of hallways until you enter a large room full of the rest of Ryujin's girls and a group of men. 

The room is dark and somewhat hazy, lit by strips of purple lights along the ceiling and floor. Short two or three-person sofas line the mirrored walls and are dispersed throughout the space, most of which are occupied. On tables set beside each sofa are bottles of champagne and piles of cocaine, with glasses large and small scattered throughout and topped with small lamps that emit very little light.

Ryujin approaches a man sitting amidst the chaos by himself, sitting hunched over with his elbows on his knees, thumbing through his cell phone. You are curious whether these men are people she knows, and you watch to see how familiar she is with the lone man, but Hwasa steps in your line of vision and takes your chin in both of her hands. 

"Coke?" she asks. 

You want to say no, proud of yourself for being off the shit for as long as you have been away from home. But you are certain that without it, you will not survive this night, so you nod and allow yourself to be tugged further into the room, to an unoccupied table. 

"Don't worry, this is from our stash," Hwasa says as she picks up a discarded rolled-up 100-dollar Taiwanese bill and tightens it between her finger and thumb. "Moon and Solar were in charge of overseeing the distribution process."

You mutter, "How generous," doing your best to smile, and watch as Hwasa snorts a small pile into one nostril and then the other. When she hands the bill to you, you take in a deep, slow breath, and let it out, then lean forward to snort from the edge of the pile first into your left nostril and then your right.

As you let the bill fall to the table and tip your head back, sniffing in again on each side, you ask, "Does Ryujin know these men?"

"Mmhmm," Hwasa hums as she fills two glasses with champagne and hands one to you. "A few of these guys worked at Paradise while I was there, and some of them are from Serendipity. Maybe you know them."

"Oh," you say, pulling the glass to your lips but stopping to ask, "How did they end up here?"

Hwasa purses her lips and tilts her head, making a show of how hard she is trying to conjure the answer to your question. Then her eyes widen and she says, "Oh! Some guy started to come around to Serendipity and just sort of gathered the rest of these guys up as, like, a posse. I don't really know what they do, to be honest, but they always dress up in matching suits and cover their faces, which is creepy as hell."

Your stomach tenses, and you feel too anxious to turn your head to the left and figure out who Ryujin is talking to. Although you know that there is absolutely no way in hell it is Christian, something about the description of the men reminds you of his men, and you begin to wonder whether there really was credence to Yoongi's worry surrounding the possibility of Christian being on this island.

"What's his name?" you ask, voice barely loud enough to be heard over the music. 

"Hmm?" Hwasa asks into her champagne glass as she leans closer. 

You begin to glance over to where Ryujin and the man are, but your heart pounds so hard, you worry you might be sick if you see him. 

"The man who gathered all the guys, from Serendipity, " you say, leaning closer. 

"What's his name?"

"Oh," Hwasa says, taking a slow slip of her champagne while her wide, dark eyes stare past you. She blinks owlishly, then pulls the glass from her lips and says, "He has a nickname…Insanity? Something like that."

Unable to stop yourself, your head flies to the left, searching the features of the man whose lap Ryujin has claimed with her legs. His nose is sharp and somewhat hooked, and it is not a familiar shape. Worried, you glance around the room, but there is no sign of Christian, as far as you can tell. 

"Something the matter?" Hwasa asks, touching fingertips to your arm and making you nearly drop your glass of champagne. 

You must look frantic when you turn back to her, based on the fear that pulls at her pretty features. You blink and wet your lips, shaking your head. Unconvincingly, judging by the way her brows knit and she continues to stare at you. 

"I just..." you swallow thickly and glance around the room once more, slowly scanning every face you can see. "I just thought he sounded familiar."

Hwasa makes a small sound, and you scan several more faces before returning your gaze to her and asking, "Huh?"

"It's just," she says, uncertain, "well, I heard he was previously working on Jeongguk's team, back when he was a drug runner. So…maybe he is familiar?"

Something is not adding up. Although Seokjin mentioned that he has kept Christian around to do whatever he pleases, it seems odd that he would be known to these women as someone who was once part of Jeongguk's team. As you recall from the day you were taken to the mansion, he did not seem to perform his drug-running duties to Yoongi's liking. Did Seokjin keep him on Jeongguk's team even after that day? Could he have had something to do with the group of men Jeongguk massacred with kunai knives for fucking him over?

You stare at your glass of champagne trying to make all the pieces fit, but it feels like you are missing a huge chunk of information. 

Hands touch your shoulders, causing you to jump. You mutter, "Shit," under your breath at the same time Ryujin's high, somewhat mocking laughter fills your left ear. 

"So sorry to scare you, pretty darling," she slurs, sounding quite inebriated. 

"Don't worry about it," you say, attempting to loosen your posture. Ryujin's hands remain on your shoulders and you do not want her to feel how tense you are. But then she squeezes your shoulders and you close your eyes, this time succeeding in relaxing. 

"How do you feel after such an emotional dinner?"

"Good," you respond while her thumbs circle over your muscles. You wonder whether she is the reason Hwasa always gives massages. Or perhaps it is the other way around. "And, I don't know. I guess also conflicted. Homesick."

Ryujin's hands fall away and she rests her chin on your left shoulder, loosely wrapping her arms around yours and pinning yours to your sides. Hwasa busies herself pouring a third glass of champagne. 

"You really like them, hmm?" Ryujin asks. 

"Yeah," you say, possibly too quiet for how loud the music in this room is. "Most of them, anyway."

The last part is a joke. You like Seokjin and Hoseok just fine, but you are certainly not as close to them as you are to the others. Taehyung, too, for that matter, although he has had the pleasure of watching his boyfriend rail you, which has formed its own kind of bond between the two of you. 

"What is your relationship with the guys?" she asks. 

Hwasa hands her a glass, and she releases her hold on you and takes it, muttering a soft, "Thank you." 

You turn to face Ryujin. Although you still hesitate to become too close to her, you do feel comfortable in her presence, all things considered. If Yoongi is willing to trust her again, then perhaps you should be, too. 

"Yoongi, Namjoon, and I are a thing." After a pause, you add, "And…sort of Jeongguk."

Ryujin's mouth falls open and she gasps. "I need to know more!"

You feel your cheeks become hot, and you pick up your glass of champagne, which Hwasa has filled. But rather than explain, you ask something that has been on your mind for a while.

"Before, when you and Yoongi were together, was Namjoon…" Unsure how to finish the sentence, you trail off. Luckily, Ryujin knows just what you mean. 

She nods. "Yes. Romantically, those two have always been the closest. Namjoon and I were never super physical. We were just very, very comfortable around one another because of Yoongi."

Interesting. You suppose this makes sense, remembering a conversation between you and Jimin a while back when he told you about how marrying Ryujin was a means to an end more than anything else. 

"Yoongi and I were meant to bring two families together. And, don't get me wrong, we were physically and emotionally attracted to one another. But we also had more fulfilling relationships on the side. For Yoongi, it was Namjoon."

"And for you?" you ask before you can stop yourself. 

Ryujin smiles wide, but then it falls to a frown. She shakes her head. "Doesn't matter. Nobody you know."

You nod and accept her answer. You suppose that perhaps the two of you are not that close, yet. In tandem, you and Ryujin raise your glasses to drink. But then she yells, "Oh!" and you startle enough to nearly spill your champagne onto yourself. "Jeongguk, though! What happened with him?"

You tip your head back and chug the rest of your bubbly. It is truly miserable to drink quickly, and you instantly regret your decision, feeling the carbonation sloshing around in your guts. 

"We, uh…" you begin, feeling shy. Why do you feel shy?

"You should see those two," Hwasa interjects, causing your face to heat even more. "They bicker like children but then circle one another like feral animals. I can only imagine their chemistry behind closed doors."

Affronted, your mouth falls wide. "We what? No we do not!"

Hwasa nods, grinning. "Yes, you do! I thought the two of you were fucking for sure when I first started working for Jimin. I was shocked to learn Jeongguk was with Taehyung and you were with Yoongi."

"And Namjoon," Ryujin supplies. 

Hwasa's grin widens. 

You raise your hands to your face as if to hide. This day has been exhausting, and these two are giggling at your expense like a couple of school girls. 

"Oh, stop," Hwasa says as one of your hands is tugged down from your face. You open just the one eye, keeping the other closed tight behind your palm. "Everyone wants a piece of your ass. Don't be shy about it! Embrace it."

With a sigh, you shake your head. "Not everyone," you groan, feeling defensive.

"Everyone with eyes," Ryujin says, waggling her eyebrows while Hwasa makes kissy noises. "I would shoot my shot if you weren't already so taken."

Hwasa nods and says, "Me too!"

Suddenly, it is too warm and too loud in here. "I need a stronger drink!" you declare, making both women laugh. 

You take a step back and turn, moving in autopilot toward the door before realizing you have no idea where you are nor where a bar in this building is. 

Ryujin takes your right hand and yanks you gently back, sing-songing, "Ah, ah, ah, not by yourself."

"Alright," you concede, interlocking your fingers with hers. As you begin to walk toward the exit, your left hand is engulfed and you glance to find Hwasa is coming along. 

You exit the mirrored room and turn right, taking a dark hallway about halfway and then turning right once more, through a thick black curtain that is guarded by two men on the other side. There is a bar directly to the right, and Ryujin tugs you to the counter and orders a bottle of whiskey that you do not catch the name of. 

With a nod, the bartender grabs an unopened bottle from a high shelf and then delicately stacks three medium-sized glasses. Hwasa takes the glasses, Ryujin takes the whiskey, and your hands remain held by both of theirs. 

Back in the mirrored room, you return to the table off to the right, toward the back. The girls release your hands to pour three drinks, and you fidget by pinching the satin of your skirt between your thumbs and knuckles, suddenly feeling antsy. 

"Cheers," Ryujin declares as she slides a drink in front of you. You take it, hold it up, and tap it against their glasses, then pull it to your lips and smell the strong, bittersweet liquid before taking a sip. 

The potent, boozy caramel flavor that you have come to expect is accented by a hint of something earthy, possibly wood. You take a bigger drink, hold it on your tongue, allowing your taste buds to open and fully experience the onslaught as they adjust, and then you swallow it down. 

"Tomorrow, we return to Busan," Ryujin says for the second time tonight as the whiskey flows down into your chest, filling you with warmth. You look forward to being at a proper home rather than on some random floor in a balmy, empty building. 

"I'm looking forward to seeing your home," you say, sounding far more meek than you intend to.

"I'm looking forward to hosting you."

Hwasa leans her elbows on the table and says, "You finally get to have your own room. That is, of course, unless you want to stay with me."

The playful smile on Hwasa's face, paired with her tired and intoxicated bloodshot eyes is almost enough to make you melt. Almost enough to make you follow her into any room she wants to lead you into. 

When you shrug and say, "Honestly, I may be too lonely to sleep alone," you are being brutally honest, and not all all flirtatious. 

"I can even decorate it like your room in the mansion," Ryujin says. "Is it still yellow?"

Her words halt your movement of lifting your glass back to your lips. "How did you know that?"

Ryujin rolls her eyes and says, "Please, nothing about that man has changed, down to the way he likes to outfit you. It's exactly as it was seven years ago."

Bile swirls around in your tummy, and you set the glass down on the mirrored table with a clank that is louder than you intend. Could that be true? Is Yoongi really outfitting you in the same fashion he was outfitting her all those years ago. 

Hwasa clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth and swats at Ryujin's arm, muttering, "Mother, don't say things like that to her," under her breath. 

You shake your head, determined to not show how strange the information makes you feel. But Ryujin turns, pouts dramatically, and wraps her arms around you. 

"Oh, sweetie, I don't mean to suggest he was trying to turn you into a second me. He just seems to have the same tastes and fashion sense, is all. Trust me, he loves you way more than he could ever love me. I can tell."

You have no idea whether Ryujin is being truthful or trying to make you feel better, but you decide that either way, you see no use in dwelling on it. You are going to be living under her roof for the foreseeable future, and becoming upset whenever she says something a little too blunt, snippy, or insensitive is not going to get you anywhere. 

With a nod, you say, "I know. Don't worry." But it only makes her squeeze you tighter. 

"Just look at his bullshit excuse for taking you home with him," she says. "Collateral, my ass."

What an odd statement. You ask, "What do you mean?" But what you really mean to say is what do you know?

"The man takes you as so-called payment from your ex but then spends millions of dollars on a wardrobe, an armored vehicle, the most lavish birthday party in all of Seoul. Make it fucking make sense!"

Ryujin releases the hug, and as soon as you are free, you slam back your whiskey and pick up the 100-dollar bill, squeezing it tighter into a tube. Ryujin whoops and claps as you lean close and snort from the edge of the cocaine pile into your left nostril and then your right. 

"Mommy needs some, too," she says as she takes the bill from your hand and leans forward. 

You tip your head back and raise a knuckle to each nostril, sniffing deeply to make sure none of the drug is stuck inside your nose cavity, then you stand up straight, stretching your back by pushing forward your chest, and reach for the bottle of whiskey. 

"Partying so hard without me?" a male voice asks from behind you, and you nearly drop the bottle. 

The tone, the accent, and the cadence all confirm your fears are true.

"Christian?" you mutter as you spin, and you almost do not believe your eyes. 

From the expression he wears and the way his gaze falls to the floor, eyes widening as they lift to your face, you wager he also cannot believe his. 

Christian steps forward and you take a step back, elbow hitting the table and causing you to grip tighter to the bottle of whiskey. 

"Barom-oppa!" Ryujin shouts as she pounces on Christian, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

"Hey there, dearie," he says, lifting his arms to return the hug, never taking his eyes off you. 

Christian looks somewhat normal compared to the last time you saw him, with a white and red floral button-up tucked into black slacks, and a black leather blazer. His hair has some product in it to give it a slightly messy style, falling in front of his eyes, and he wears minimal makeup. 

But there is a darkness to him. Smudges around the eyes rather than clean lines, tattoos on his throat and neck. On his left hand, he wears a black leather driving glove, and across his nose is a red scuff, as if he has been punched. Under the rich musk that fills the air around him, you sense the stale smell of cigarette smoke, and he has silver hoops in his ears and one in his left nostril. 

A lot has changed about Christian in the months since you have known him. 

Ryujin releases their hug and takes a step back, causing Christian to look down at himself and rub his hands down the front of his jacket as if her tiny body could have somehow managed to do anything to the leather. Then he stands up straight and shakes his head to the side just enough for his hair to move out from in front of his eyes, and you realize that his left eye is completely white. Is it…missing? 

"Oh my god, your eye!" you shout, lunging forward before you can stop yourself and raising your left hand toward his face while your right hand nearly drops the whiskey bottle once more. 

Christian takes your wrist in his gloved hand and holds firmly onto you, and your entire body flushes hot with nerves as you realize the mistake you have made. The way his gaze holds onto you, even with only one dark iris and pupil, is piercing and intense, and you attempt futility to pull your hand away. 

"Funny story how I lost that," he says, expression pulling into a strange, sad grin. He leans close, nicotine on his breath as he says, "I'll have to tell you some time."

You pull on your arm, desperate to release it, but his grip is far stronger than you remember. Should you be afraid of this man?

"Christian," you begin, glancing from your hand to his face. 

"Perhaps over drinks, some time," he continues. "Just the two of us."

You nod, willing to lie to him if it means letting you go. Panic rises as you continue to take stock of how different he is from the man you used to know. 

Ryujin takes the whiskey from your hand, sets it on the table, and then grabs his hand in both of hers as she says, "Alright, that is enough of that. I need you two to play nice."

The room returns to view, and you remember why you are here and who you are with. You realize belatedly that these two not only know each other but that they are friendly with one another. 

"Wait," you say, turning to Ryujin, "you told Yoongi—"

"Look, I lied to him," she says, cutting you off. 

Your mouth falls open and your pulse whooshes in your ears. "You…but…" Could she possibly know what she has done by bringing the two of you together? "Why?"

Ryujin chuckles and steps close to Christian, placing her dainty, manicured hands over his chest. "Oppa is harmless. You know that! And Yoongi…well, he's paranoid. Trust me, darling. Nothing bad will happen to you."

You are not so sure you are convinced, but you know that freaking out will do nobody any good. Especially when you are so far away from home. You are not eager to show any more weakness to any of these people. Especially the one they call Mister Insanity. 

Someone shouts for Christian, using the name Barom, and you turn quickly back to the table. Your glass contains more whiskey, courtesy of one of the women, you assume, and you pick up the glass with shaking hands and slam it down, then reach for the bottle again. 

Intoxication roils through you in hot waves, and you squeeze your eyes closed to take a deep breath in and out before shooting more whiskey. A small hand touches your lower back, and you wish you were curled up in a bed all by yourself, far away from these people and this music. You are tired of being touched.

"I know it's weird to see an ex," Ryujin says. "Sorry for surprising you like this. He told me he wouldn't be around tonight."

"How did he lose his eye?" you ask, focused on the wrong thing as you turn to face Ryujin. You tremble so hard that your teeth clatter. 

Her smile falls to a frown and she shakes her head. "That isn't my story to tell."

You nod, accepting her answer, and turn to Hwasa, who watches you with a concerned expression. You mouth the word, "Bathroom?" and she nods and rounds the table, taking you by the arm. 

"Down the hall to the left," Ryujin says. 

As you walk through the room, you squint, attempting to ignore all the movement in the mirrors in your periphery. It's too much. Everything is too much. 

The darkness of the hallway is a blessing and a curse, relieving you from the chaos of the private room while introducing challenges of its own; it is almost too dark and somewhat claustrophobic. 

You stumble and Hwasa's hold on you tightens. She picks up the pace and leads you straight into a single-stall bathroom, then turns on a light that is thankfully relatively dim. The moment she closes and locks the door, you stumble forward, fall to your knees on the rough tile before the toilet, and vomit the contents of your stomach. 

Your mind races with myriad thoughts, but one is the loudest of them all: What the fuck is Christian doing here?

*

Oh, oh, I broke down all my doors Oh, do you see it now? Nothing was fixed at all

I never asked to be like this

🎵 visit the playlist

hello, hello!!! we meet again!!! i hope you have all been having great middle of the year months! things have been ok for me but i have been reading a lot more than i have been writing. how did you feel about this one??? it is a little slower, as it is setting the stage for the final chapters. any guess how things are going to go? how do we feel about the new (and returned) characters??? it felt really nice to writing Jimin into the scene again. 💜 i'll be honest, describing Ryujin & the Mamamoo girls laying on the rugs and blankets made me think of Quanxi and her harem of fiends from Chainsaw Man.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!! REBLOGS ARE IMPORTANT BLAHBLAHBLAH LIKES ARE ALSO AMAZING AND SO ON. 💜 tags will be coming in reblogs. also, character asks are always active if you have some burning questions or comments (just don't expect me to outright spoil anything hehehe.)

i love you, stay hydrated!!! if you are somewhere with a heatwave, stay cool!!! 😘😘😘 until we meet again!!!

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Collateral is copyright 2022-2024 theharrowing, all rights reserved. no translations of reposts allowed.

[my-mind-mansion]

❣️Dancing with Alastor in his radio tower❣️

{you all seem to like my fanfics!!❤️❤️Nsfw next time??🤭}

It was late. 2 am. No sign of falling asleep any time soon. You decided to pay the radio demon a visit; you knew he would be awake.

As you approached his door, you heard his old-timey jazz music playing and smiled. His on air sign was off so you knew he wouldn’t mind you coming to see him. You held your fist up to the door, but it opened before your knuckles even touched it. You didn’t even have to knock; he knew your presence was there. “Hello there!” He smiled, as always. “Have you come to keep me company?” He asked as you took in every bit of his handsome appearance. Even at 2 am, he was dressed up in his fitted suit and bowtie. You blushed in embarrassment as you looked down at your pajamas and socks. Maybe I should’ve changed first. “Well, I couldn’t sleep so-“ you got cut off by him pulling you into the room by your arm. “Well I’m happy you’re here!” He exclaimed as he walked back over to his radio panel. “You know I’m a night owl myself, haha! It’s always nice to have someone to talk to! Would you like something to drink? I’ve got coffee, tea, water… or perhaps you’d like something stronger? Haha, I’m kidding!” As he rambled on and on, you smiled. You liked the sound of his voice and how much he talked; he liked when someone was there to listen to him yap.

You smiled and spaced out as he continued to be chatty. The warmth of his voice was friendly and comforting. You averted your eyes to the side and got lost in thought as his voice played in the background. “Well? What d’ ya’ say?” Was the line that snapped you back to reality. You blinked at him as he smiled at you. You were embarrassed. “Oh uhh..” you smiled nervously. He laughed. “Oh that’s quite alright, my dear.”

“I asked if you wanted to dance with me.” he smiled as he held his hand out. You gasped and took his hand without thinking. You could hardly contain your excitement. You couldn’t believe what he had just asked you. His smile was ever present as he pulled you in close to him, wrapping his other arm around your waist. You quickly became shy as your senses came flooding back. You were so overwhelmed with joy that you had forgotten something important. “What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you don’t know how to dance?” He teased as he looked down at you. It was true. You smiled nervously. He sighed. “Here. Put your other arm around my shoulder like I’m doing to your waist.” You followed his instructions. “Now, don’t you go stepping on my new shoes.” He teased as he took the lead. “And do try to keep up, dear.”

He smirked as he started spinning you around the room. The song that was playing had a quick and upbeat tempo. He moved through the steps like it was second nature, while you were tripping over your own feet. He laughed each time you tripped. You could tell he was enjoying watching you struggle as he smiled menacingly down at you. You let him have his fun for a while until you couldn’t take it anymore. “Alastor..” you said quietly. “Yes?~” he responded slyly. “Can you please show me how to do the steps?” You asked through a fake grin. “But you’re doing SO well!” He teased sarcastically. Obviously, that wasn’t true. You frowned and looked down as you tried hiding your disappointment. You were actually looking forward to dancing with him. He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. He sighed and let go of your hand, walking back over to the radio. You watched him change the station to a slower song. He snapped his fingers and your pajamas turned into the dancing dress of your dreams, accessories and all.

Your eyes widened as he held out his hand again. “I’ll show you the steps this time.” He said, apologetically. You gave him a small smile before taking his hand again. “Now, when I move my right foot forward, move your left back.” He said softly. You did. “Good.” He praised. You followed along and got the hang of it pretty quickly. Soon, the two of you were waltzing around the room with no trouble at all. Though every once in a while, you’d trip and he’d bite back a laugh. “Now, remember what I showed you, dear.” You smiled in embarrassment. “Yeah, yeah..”

A few songs had passed and you were getting tired. You started nodding off while waltzing. You gently rested your head on his chest and wrapped your arms around him, hugging him. He gasped and widened his eyes. He froze. “The audacity of this girl.” he thought to himself. He sighed and rolled his eyes. “I guess I can allow this.” He hugged you back. You smiled and nuzzled your face into his chest, feeling the fancy fabric of his signature coat. His embrace was warm and comforting. You felt safe to close your eyes knowing that he was there. At this point, the two of you were just swaying back and forth with no rhythm whatsoever. His soft humming along to the song acted as a perfect lullaby. Eventually, you stopped swaying. He tried to see your face but it was buried in his coat. You barely felt him pick you up as your eyes stayed closed. “Just as I thought.. she’s asleep.” He softly smiled and laid you down on his couch. He snapped his fingers and you were back in the comfort of your pajamas. Snapping his fingers again, he summoned a blanket. He tucked you in. He stood there and simply looked at your sleeping face for a moment; you were still wearing a smile. “Goodnight.” He spoke softly as his radio continued to play. You had spent the night sleeping in his radio tower as he watched over you.

[cute-cuck-wannabe-wife]

The weekend special

Friday

Friday night started with me waiting as instructed in the corner Sir was milling around for a bit I was told to stay. He came back into the lounge I thought I heard a mumble but stayed then he shouted I said turn the fuck around I spun around only to be met with a slap across my face. "That was your warning I do not repeat myself" I just nodded shocked I barely heard anything when he walked in. Lesson leared I need to pay more attention. He put the large plug on the floor in front of me told me to lube it with my spit then get it in my ass without my hands. I sat on the plug it took me a few Min to get it in and I basically got it in by fucking it with my ass till it popped in. I was pretty chuffed but got nothing from him. He also attached a heavy length of chain to my collar.

"open" was the only instruction. I knew of course. He rammed his cock down my throat gagging me he went for about 10 Min or so throat fucking me until he came. He then gagged me with a ball gag. You're done for now. I tuned back around and waited again while he watch TV.

"I want snacks" was the next words he said to me. I started asking what he would like through the gag he just stared at me. "Don't make me repeat myself" I had no idea what to get him and ended up going back and forth with about 4 different options eventually he was happy with his snack and sent me back to the corner.

It was about 0800 when he told me I could take the gag out and to go put a gown on and fetch the food delivery. I'm pretty sure the delivery driver saw the chain and collar.

When I got back in the house there was a plastic food bowl in the middle of the floor he took the delivery from me told me to get down ass up and keep quiet.

He ordered a favourite of mine potstickers, Bao buns and pork dumplings. It smelled delicious and I realised how hungry I was. He ate and I couldn't help but look up at him with pleading eyes. He looked at me and asked if I was hungry. "Yes Sir" he told me I could go get mine in the fridge "you'll know it when you see it" I jumped up and went to get my food I was heartbroken when I saw it labelled scraps it was a porridge that had been made in the morning. I brought it through him laughing as he could see the disappointment in my eyes. "In the bowl" I put the slop into the bowl looked at him again and started to move my head to the bowl "stop come here" I went over to him and he locked my wrists using the chain behind my neck. His cock hard he forced my head down on him again sucking him off as he came he said don't swallow spit it on your food then you may eat. I was almost in tears as I was eating I didn't mind the taste but God damn the potstickers smelt delicious. When I was finished eating I thanked him he looked down at me and said "your desert is on the floor behind you" I was confused and as I looked I saw I had made a puddle on the floor under my pussy. I licked it clean obviously but I was amazed I was leaking so much.

The rest of the night involved a few more BJ's and a slap or two.

Bedtime was called at about 11 pm I was dragged to the room bent over plug pulled out blanket over my head and he fucked my ass filling it with his cum. Before I knew it I was plugged again smaller plug this time and the chain locked to my wrist to the bedpost he threw a pillow to me.

Didn't say goodnight or anything just turned off the light and I heard him fall asleep.

To say I was taken aback was an understatement and the thoughts going through my head were chaotic. Then I started thinking.

1. We never had the chain before.

2. He actually made the porridge in the morning.

3. He added the fixing point to the bedpost.

4. He doesn't like potstickers or dumplings

The amount of effort he made just to humiliate degrade torture me.

He really wants me to be happy and is giving me what I want.

I'm such a lucky slave

[ackerink]

Hi. How are you?

Take your time. Don't be in a rush to write.

Levi Ackerman civilian x female reader captain

In which the reader here takes Levi's place in the plot.

The reader came from the underground with her two friends being taken by Erwin Smith.

Kuchel, Furlan and Isabel are alive and live as civilians along with Levi.

The reader is humanity's strongest soldier. Ackerman here is not the clan that suffered the experience 100 years ago, but rather the reader's clan.

The reader is shopping together with her squad. Levi and Kuchel have a tea shop. Levi admires the reader and would like to meet her, but he is shy. Petra ends up finding Levi's tea shop and tells the reader.

I leave the development up to you. I have so many ideas with this theme of the reader taking Levi's place that I don't know if you would accept it. But, don't feel obligated to do it.

this is an interesting idea, i'll make a place for this on my masterlist if you decide to submit another one of these "reverse au" asks!

"levi." kuchel lays her hands on her son's shoulders, only then does his attention begin to shift. "sorry," said levi. "i wasn't paying much attention." his response earns a laugh from of his mother. her hands linger on him, the scent of her soap, old wax candles and herbs calm his senses.

"i can see that, what were you looking at?" she asks, her eyes scanning the direction in which levi seemed so entranced in. the town falls silent, onlookers stare on at the incoming soldiers. the wings of freedom dawning their uniforms, blood staining their hands. kuchel's smile fades a little, yet she keeps quiet.

"the survey corps?" she mutters, tasting the words on her tongue as if she had never said them before. levi points, his finger following in your direction. "they call her 'humanity's strongest soldier'." he acknowledges, staring at you, watching you stride. a fatigued and wearied walk that looks like it drains you of whatever energy you have left.

still you stand out from the rest, levi can't explain it but he can sense fortitude, stability and resilience from you. he imagines having to hear the distant screams, pleas and howls of the soldiers who didn't back it back—the ones who were eaten, crushed or worse.

"what does it take to be the strongest? i want to ask her myself. . ." levi whispers, a silent prayer to whoever will listen that maybe, he'll get to meet you. kuchel ponders her son's words in silence, turning away from him to see to the customers who pass by.

mornings, nights, afternoons, all pass by and you do too. every expedition is another step towards something better, or maybe that's something you just tell yourself.

"excuse me," velvet features and soft, blue, warm irises is what levi is met with this morning. the woman waves to get his attention, wearing the uniform he had gotten so familiar with. "hello." levi greets her, a towel in his right hand, a duster in his left. "what do you sell here?" the young lady asks, an uncertain expression twists her face.

"tea, black tea, earl grey, chai. any kind." levi's eyes don't meet hers, too busy scanning her uniform. the robust characteristics taking up all of his attention until she speaks again. "um, can i get the chai?" a smile stretches across her face. "it's for my captain, she's not picky."

"your captain?" levi inquires, passing the box of tea over the thin wooden counter. the soldier nods, exchanging the currency in her hand for the tea. when she turns around there are other soldiers stalling, most likely waiting for her when levi glances over her shoulder, he sees your face again.

"your captain is. . .humanity's strongest?" levi already knows the answer however he asks anyway. "i've always wanted to meet her." levi never thought of himself as shy though the prospect of even being in your presence makes his stomach flutter with trepidation. the woman nods again, her smile brighter than before. "really? i'll call her over for you." levi can't object, he can't shy away—not now. this is his moment to finally speak to you.

"captain! over here!"

[crowsofdarkness]

Moment Of Weakness: Chapter Nineteen

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Content Warnings: language, 18 + smut, angst, fluff, affair, cheating, violence, kidnapping, faking a pregnancy.

Summary: Reader is the assistant to New York's most feared mob boss, James Buchanan Barnes. He had the picture-perfect life: status in the mob, friends, and beautiful wife. So why can't he keep his mind and eyes off of reader?

Authors Note: I just wanted to remind everyone who reads this, there are heavy moments of cheating/having an affair in this story. You might not agree with the actions of "reader" or Bucky but it does pertain to the storyline. If anyone is interested, tags are open for this! Just send me a message or comment!

Tags: @cjand10 @generalmoonpolice @sapphirebarnes @baw1066 @nameless-ken @minami97

I walked into the building, smiling bright as the morning sun, ready to finish this work day already. After he left last night, Bucky promised that when he would come by tonight, he would stay the night. He had planned on telling Natasha that he had to go out of town for something mob related. 

There was already a list of things I had planned; dinner at home, a movie cuddled together on my couch, and a warm bath to end the night. It was something that we had yet to do, a proper at home date. 

My body jumped with excitement every time I thought about it. 

A frown pulled at my lips when I noticed that Bucky’s door had been closed. He didn’t have any meetings planned so there was no need for it to be shut. Bucky also always took his phone calls with the door opened. 

I placed my things on my desk and softly knocked on the door, only to be met with silence. The thought of if he was coming in today or not crossed my mind so I sent him a quick text. 

Are you not coming in today? 

Some time would pass before I would even get a response. Three hours to be exact. 

By the time Bucky had decided to text back, it was nearing lunch hour and I was busying myself to run to the deli across the road to pick us all up something. Steve and Sam were playing a card game on the couch that sat across from my desk and Steve noticed the worried look on my face. 

“Everything alright?” 

By the mere tone in his voice, I could tell that the relationship we shared was not the same anymore. 

“Yeah,” I mumbled, not bothering to take my eyes away from the text on my phone. 

I’m held up in my office all day, sorry.

It was short, to the point. No sweet names or cringey emojis that Bucky had just found out of. This wasn’t like him, something being different; off. 

Steve stood to walk over to me. “Bucky?” 

I peered over his shoulder to make sure Sam wasn't paying attention and nodded. 

“Have you talked to him at all? I feel as if he’s avoiding me,” I said. 

He hesitated, unsure if he should even say anything. I could see it in the way he avoided my gaze, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

Steve was hiding something from me. 

“What do you know?” I asked. 

“I can’t be the one to tell you, Y/N. Bucky has too.” 

With a gentle squeeze on my shoulder, he went back to his previous spot on the couch. 

I gnawed on my bottom lip while gazing at the still shut door to Bucky’s office and decided to give it one more try, seeing if he would talk to me. 

“Bucky, can I come in?” I asked after my knuckles tapped against the door. 

There was quite a bit of shuffling behind it and my heart hammered when the door opened, revealing a very stressed Bucky. 

My voice lowered. “Are you okay?” 

He nodded. “I’m going to skip lunch today.”

The door shut just as fast as it opened and I was left staring at it, tears brimming in my eyes. 

“Y/N,” Steve’s soft voice called from behind me. 

I blinked a few times, tears splattering over my cheeks, and quickly grabbed my things to head to lunch.

I don’t know what I did to make you so upset with me but I don’t appreciate the cold shoulder all day. I’m about to leave for the day and you’ve barely come out of your office.

I hit send on the text while walking back to my desk from the bathroom. The day went on at a slow pace, my eyes darting from my computer to Bucky’s still shut door, not once seeing him come out of his office. That was the third text I sent him all day and with yet no response, I decided that tonight was officially off the table. He would not be rewarded with spending the night with me after ghosting me all day. 

As I returned back to my desk, I noticed that the door was wide open, and my feet practically dragged me across the threshold. Until I stopped myself when I saw that he made no effort to look away from his phone when he heard me walk up. Not even a quick glance my way. 

“Asshole,” I grumbled, plopping into my chair. 

Six minutes. That’s all I had left of my work day and I could go home to wallow in self pity in private. 

I used that time to scroll through Instagram, not having the chance to be on it all day. My thumb froze over one post, almost unsure to like it or not, because everything around me faded to black. Ears rang loudly with white noise and my heart dropped to the depths of my stomach as it shattered. The pain caused a sob to leave my lips. 

Cannot wait to meet you baby Barnes. Coming in six months. 

My vision blurred from the tears that spilled everywhere but I still could see the picture Natasha had posted announcing her pregnancy. It was a picture of a positive pregnancy test with her and Bucky’s vibranium hand holding it. 

With a broken gaze, I looked over to him and was shocked that Bucky was already watching me. His own eyes were broken, tears pooling in the corners of them. 

“I’m so sorry, doll,” he mouthed. 

No words were able to form, my mouth had run dry. I didn’t know what to say, to be honest. All I could do was gather my things and storm out of the office, the door slamming behind me shaking the walls. 

The persistent knocking on my front door was becoming too hard to ignore, it going on for the last five minutes. In tangent with my phone ringing, not stopping for a second. I did my best to tune it all out, staring off into the void of my living room wall, wishing it would stop; wishing everything would stop. 

“Doll, please open up.” 

“Go away,” I yelled, the anger suddenly bubbling to life. 

“Please let me explain!” 

I scoffed while shaking my head, even if Bucky couldn’t see. “Explain?!” 

Everything I had been avoiding came rushing to the forefront when I heard him begging me to let him in, to explain his actions. 

My feet dragged me to the door and I opened it with such force, it created a small wind tunnel. Bucky didn’t bother waiting for me to let him in, he pushed himself past me. 

“I’m so sorr-.” 

His apology was cut off by a hard slap to his face, my palm already stung with redness. 

Bucky rubbed at the raw spot where I had hit him and his jaw tensed. “You hit me.” 

“Trust me, I want to do a lot more!” I seethed. 

“Can you calm down so I can explain?” He begged. 

“Calm down?!” My voice bellowed. “You get your wife pregnant, hide it from me, then come here to explain yourself? How the fuck can I calm down?!” 

My shoulder rammed into his as I walked past him and down the hall towards my bedroom. His footsteps that echoed down the hall told me that he was following me close behind. 

“I wanted to tell you, Y/N. All day I tried to come up with the best way,” Bucky said. 

I spun on my heels and pushed him hard in his chest, my actions doing nothing to deter him. 

“Fuck you, Barnes! You’re such a liar!” 

I began beating his chest with my fist, pure hatred fueling my momentum. And he stood there, taking every hit. 

Out of breath, I let my fists fall to my side, and felt my chest rise and fall each time I swallowed a large amount of air. 

“Feel better?” Bucky asked. 

My eyes narrowed. “Go fuck yourself. I never want to see you again.” 

His shoulders dropped. “You don’t mean that.” 

I nodded, even if I didn’t believe it myself. “Get out.” 

Bucky didn’t move so I pushed him harder in his chest. “Leave. Now!” 

“Doll-.” 

I smacked him yet again, this time with so much force he stumbled back onto my bed. 

“You lost the right to call me that, Bucky! I can’t believe I fell for your lies again.” 

I ran a shaking hand through my hair. “I allowed myself to ignore the red flags because I cared that much for you. I believed that you wanted me, wanted a future with me. I bet the divorce was a lie too.” 

Bucky vigorously shook his head. “I promise you. That was all true. Matt finished the papers this afternoon.” 

“When did it happen?” I abruptly asked. 

He hesitated, unsure how to answer. “A few months ago. It was the night I drove you home from work and we had sex in the back seat.” 

If my heart wasn’t in a million pieces before, it for sure was now. 

“You’re such a dick!” I screamed while pushing him down on my bed. “I knew you were still screwing her.” 

Bucky leaned his elbows onto his knees and held his head in his hands. “You don’t understand how terrible I feel, Y/N. I wish I could take it back.” 

I wiped the tears away with the back of my hand. “Are you still leaving her?” 

He gazed up at me, lips parting and eyes welling with tears. “I can’t. She’s having my child.” 

My eyes shut, his words giving me exactly what I needed to end this. 

I pointed towards the door. “We’re finished, Bucky. You need to leave.” 

He was fast on his feet to reach for me. “No, this doesn’t have to end.” 

“Yes it does!” I wailed. “It’s one thing to break up a marriage but I refuse to break up a family.” 

Both of us were crying, not bothering to stop or hide the tears, and Bucky wanted to reach for me, fight for me, but knew that there was no changing my mind. 

“What about work?” He asked with a glimmer of hope. 

I gnawed on the inside of my cheek. “I can’t afford to quit. So I’ll see you next week. I need to take some time off.” 

Bucky nodded. “I didn’t want to hurt you, doll.” 

I grabbed my elbows, bringing my arms closer to my chest and avoiding his gaze, keeping my eyes trained to my feet. The only thing I could hear over his footsteps walking away from me was my broken cries, my body collapsing to the ground. 

[regretsofaghost]

Part 3- you'll always be my closest friend, I lost myself but I struggle too, so please tell me, was I good to you?

AO3 link to chapter 3- here Tumblr link to chapter 2-here Tumblr link to chapter 4- here

Word Count- 700 words

It was getting to early morning, when Charles had begun to worry about Edwin’s whereabouts. They had tried to make a habit in recent months of not being gone from each other for too long, to come back within six hours of leaving, if that. Edwin had skirted close to this deadline on multiple occasions, coming back at five hours and thirty minutes for instance.

It made Charles feel like a nag, to pay such close attention to how long his friend was gone for, but he could not help it.

He had spent too much time neglecting Edwin, since meeting Crystal, that the prospect of doing so again left a terrible taste in his mouth.

Sometimes he still wondered, what Edwin would taste like, underneath that sweet-piney taste of gin.

Still, it should not have been remarkable, when Charles’ eyes flew up to the mirror at a clatter, Edwin’s form stumbling in, looking like he just barely kept himself upright. Charles moved quicker than he thought possible, hands coming up to catch his friend, worry shooting through the roof when all Edwin did was laugh.

“Charles,” Edwin’s voice was slurred, the r of his name all but lost in his posh accent as his hands came up to grip the arms that held him. Charles opened his mouth to say something, anything, but found his eyes tracking the way Edwin’s tongue darted out to lick hi slips, and perhaps he was more obvious than he thought, because as quick as Charles had been in catching Edwin, Edwin rushed forward to press his lips against Charles’.

It wasn’t a good kiss, too hard, too much teeth, but Charles could not stop Edwin, could not deny him, would never wish to.

It wasn’t sweet, like those kisses that night, all those months ago.

“You’re mush better at that than-“ Edwin began to say, before he cut himself off. “No, that’d upset you, to hear. I’ve been trying my best to not upset you. Has it worked?”

Charles looked at Edwin, his glossy eyes, slurred speech, the way he pressed himself so closely to Charles that they might begin to meld into each other soon enough.

“You’ve drunk that potion, haven’t you?” Charles asked, knowing the answer, even if it made his stomach knot, a weight dropped on his chest.

Edwin was supposed to be doing better.

“You’re upset,” Edwin said, and Charles couldn’t reply, because he was. He could not offer reassurance, could not mask worry and anger, not when it came to Edwin’s safety.

“Of course I’m bloody upset! You went and got- fucking sloshed again, gone all night, what if something happened to you? I wouldn’t even know till it was too late!” Charles took a shaking breath, trying to be mindful of his hands still holding onto Edwin, to not grip him tightly and hurt him.

“I-“ Edwin began, licking his lips, looking so lost, and Charles hated that he was the cause, but he needed to know, what Edwin had planned, if he were hurt, if something happened.

Edwin with his big ol’ brain, usually thinking ten steps ahead, but sometimes losing himself in the way only sixteen year olds can.

It was then, that Charles saw them, again.

Bruises, along Edwin’s throat, where his dress shirt was messily unbuttoned, his bowtie undone, the way his hair was disheveled and wavy.,

“Did you meet up with someone?”

Those kisses-

They were supposed to mean something.

Was Charles not enough anymore?

Was he too late?

“What?” Edwin’s hand came up to his collar, his cheeks turning an impressive shade of pink as if he was just reminded of where he was.

Edwin was not Charles’

But how he wanted him to be.

Each other’s.

Like they were for over thirty years.

Before everything changed.

For better and for worse.

“Win…” Charles’ voice was softer than he meant for it to be, just above a whisper, but Edwin looked at him all the same., attention grabbed, and his lovely eyes looked at Charles like he were the most important thing in the universe. “Where did you go?”

Edwin took a shaking breath, his reply on his lips, the door opened.

[leaderintitleonly]

Everything could be helpful with a client. If he really needed help, he was going to have to pay attention to Otto. He didn't hold himself like the others. Good posture, he thought to himself and made a note. He was probably schooled for that. Then he really didn't belong here. He belonged somewhere more busy instead of this little patch of dirt, though he was humble enough all the same. Crumbs flew and Arthur paid very little attention to his atrocious manners. His house, his rules. He'd clean up anyway, so there was no point in fussing over a stray morsel. Hands flicked at his tunic to brush some of the crumbs from himself. "You won't finish that thought. Once it's done... what?" Arthur began fixing his glasses back onto his nose. Immediately they slid back down with his face morphing and twisting with growing concern. "I said I'm not kicking you out. You can finish that thought." He wants to finish the job and put up with me. If you want to live with a miserable witch and his smelly house fill of plants. Ugh. Witch.

Having reached an imaginary imposed number of non-sweet food, Arthur began to enjoy the strawberry tart. There was a delighted hum as a tiny fork pierced through the crust and, for just a moment, he let his thoughts turn to the confection before him. Otto's voice slingshot him back into their conversation without him somehow losing concentration. "I am myself. It's about not scaring the wrong people off. I want to scare the right people off. Those people shouldn't be here." He waved the fork in the air, allowing more crumbs to fly. If the owl was awake, there probably would have been an annoyed screech for Arthur's poor housekeeping in front of the handy man. "That sounds strange out loud, but I think you get the point. I don't mind fixing people up. It's people up to wicked things I don't want skulking about my radishes."

That was an interesting rule for a healer. Couldn't even ask about someone's past? Well, if that was the way Arthur wanted it, Otto wouldn't complain. It's not like he had much to talk about anyway.

The headaches had always been more of a concern than his memory anyway. Seeing the blue drink made him feel a bit at ease. He immediately did as Arthur suggested, swishing it in his mouth. It didn't taste too medicinal like he'd been worried it would. It was mostly minty, with an herbal aftertaste. "Thank you, Arthur."

Unlike his host, Otto ate slowly. His back was straight and he didn't even open his mouth while he was chewing. The way he picked up his pastries spoke of a refinement the man himself didn't seem to notice.

"Well, thank you. I'm taking it slowly so I can make sure it's done well." And so he didn't exhaust himself. "Maybe once it's done ... well we'll see if you like it first." But he was still hoping that once it was done, he could find some other project here. He didn't get wary glances or pitying remarks from Arthur like he did in the village.

"It's okay. I did come out of nowhere. I don't need you to be friendly anyhow. I'm kind of intruding. Perhaps you could just be yourself? And we'll learn to get to know each other a bit more. Maybe I'll even figure out what being myself means to me."

He chuckled, taking a sip of his tea again. "Its odd, not remembering anything about my past. I still can't figure out what I did for a living, but maybe I'm going about it the wrong way. Maybe I should try to find what I enjoy first. After I finish the fence, I mean," he added quickly. It was probably too soon to talk about discovering hobbies when he'd just started working for Arthur this afternoon.

[stupid-elf]

Growing up with strict, neurodivergent parents while neurodivergent yourself will have you as an adult acting like you've recently escaped the feywild. What are the tricky rules? Is everything accounted for? How do I ensure I don't accidentally step over the line into Impoliteness. You know the consequences aren't death and dismemberment but you might look down one day and find you've lost your shadow and all of your friends if you're not careful

[suntails]

a living bolt ⚡

[neatfrog]

I’m honestly surprised at myself for not noticing/thinking about how Stolas was very likely triggered by Blitzø stomping after him and screaming/insulting him because he dealt with it so much from Stella. As someone who has *been* in an abusive relationship, it takes so long to get out of that fight or flight mindset where you just shut down the second someone starts yelling (at least in my case). It’s been like 8 years now and I still flinch at loud voices even if they’re not directed at me.

soooo yeah I don’t blame Stolas for booting him out at that point