#cul an ti

[clefdesoll]

sauve moi cowboys fringants

[lemondeabicyclette]

lessive de fonds publics fils te pump fiss phoque

[rinachains]

synopsis: in which your leader invites you for a drink and you see a new side of him.

wc: 2.1k

contents: drabble; cult leader!geto x gn!reader; tipsy, clingy geto; fluff, small warning for cult!leader geto lol; alcohol consumption

a/n: reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

It wasn’t necessarily unusual for Geto to invite you to join him in his office. Usually, though, you drank tea or coffee and sipped your soothing beverages as you chatted about your day, your duties and anything else that came to mind. You actually assumed he didn't drink alcohol at all - until now.

You were currently standing in his dimly lit office after he asked you to come over earlier that day, taking in the view of him pulling out a bottle of sake and two glasses, putting them on the small, wooden table in front of him. His long, silky onyx hair was tied back in a low ponytail, his usual monk attire had been discarded and replaced with a plain black robe that revealed a glimpse of his strong, broad chest. You could see a faint, healed scar on his otherwise smooth, pale skin. It was unfair how beautiful he looked without even trying, how ethereal.

“Are you planning on joining me eventually or do you want to stand by the door for the rest of the evening?” His purple eyes met yours, a glint reflecting in them, drawing you to him as if you were a crow seeing a shiny object. “C’mon, you know I won’t bite.”

Feeling a little flustered about acting so awkward, you hurriedly walked over to the table where you sat down opposite him on the soft cushions beneath you and crossed your legs to make yourself more comfortable. You couldn't help but naively think that this felt a bit like a date, but you knew better, didn't you? You were just driven by your own hormones because you weren't quite used to the attention of a man like him yet.

“Is there an occasion for this or did you just suddenly feel the urge to get drunk, Master Geto?”, you asked in a subtle, amused tone to relax yourself and get rid of the tension, raising an eyebrow as you eyed the table.

“No special occasion, I just wanted to share a drink with you.”

“Oh, but I don’t really drink”, you said sheepishly, holding your hand out in front of you. “I mean, I could go for one glass of sake, but I’m afraid that’s my limit.”

He chuckled, looking up briefly through his eyelashes before concentrating on pouring the drinks. “Are you a lightweight or just not fond of the taste?”

“Both, I guess.”

“I’m not much of a drinker either, but I thought it could help with relaxing. This week was pretty draining.”

Every time you two would have your little meetings, he would actually indulge you by sharing how his day went and what he’s planning next, but it never truly went deeper than that, solely scratching the surface. You weren't sure if he ever told you how he really felt. He held back, and you couldn't blame him for that. You always wondered why his hatred for non-sorcerers ran so deep, why he started this cult, what finally made him do what he's doing now. You desperately wanted to know and absorb everything about him, but you had to hold back. You wanted him to open up on his own because you were afraid you might overstep your boundaries and destroy the casual bond you two had forged.

He hummed approvingly as he observed you bringing your filled cup up to your mouth and taking small, measured sips. “Self-restraint is good, it’s quite hard to not be greedy.”

Then, contrary to you, he downed his drink in one go, making you choke back a startled laugh. His tongue darted out to lick the remaining liquid on his lips as he put his cup down. You felt your mouth fall slightly open at the sight, resisting the urge to copy him and lick your own lips.

It’s been about a year and a half since you joined Geto’s side. You remembered that day clearly, every single detail burned into your brain.

He was a stranger approaching you in his monk's robes, and for a moment you assumed you were surely going to be dragged into a cult. Which wasn't entirely wrong - you were technically part of a cult now, except you were the one doing the scamming, and he was helping you discover something very important about yourself - your cursed energy and technique.

Years, almost decades, of feeling as if you were crazy, until you met someone who finally understood and proofed to you that you weren’t crazy, but, in fact, special. You were no longer lonely; for once you were surrounded by people and there was no loneliness that weighed you down.

He was your leader, but he never made you feel inferior. Your group was more like a family; that’s what he said to you from the beginning, what he promised with such earnest enthusiasm. You’d join his family, become a part of it, a new member. You’d finally belong.

It also didn’t help that he was handsome – devilishly so. You didn't think you'd ever met anyone as captivating as him, with eyes so keen and sharp, smile so nihilistic and almost cruel, voice so gentle and soothing. Truthfully, he had you under his spell the moment you encountered those purple hues.

Normally, he was carrying himself in such a collected, mature manner, domineering and commanding but without being brash and forceful – he was a natural leader who effortlessly managed to wrap others around his long fingers, including you.

Now, as the two of you were sitting here, and you slowly finished your one drink and he was already on his third one, there was a light flush coating his cheeks, his hair lightly disheveled, a few more strands than usual hanging in his face, framing his delicate, sharp features. It gave him a boyish charm that made the corner of your lips curl up, your cheeks feeling warm (and not just from the alcohol). It was vulnerable in a way; you wondered if you were the first one to see him in such a state. The thought of someone else getting this view made your stomach churn; you wanted to be the first and the only one. A view reserved for you eyes only.

“Let me pour you another one, Master Geto”, you exclaimed, reaching out for the bottle and carefully pouring more liquid in his cup.

His eyes intently followed your movements, hand twitching with the secret urge to pet your head and relish the softness of your hair. So eager to please.

“Suguru.”

“Huh?”, you quickly turned your attention towards him again, just as you put down the bottle on the table.  

“Call me Suguru.” His head tilted to the side, bang swinging with his lazy movements, and he put his hands behind him, leaning back. “We’ve known each other for a while now. And I trust you. Shouldn’t the person I trust call me by my first name?”

“You-“, you choked out a response, flustered by his unexpected directness, “you can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?”, he gave you a look of genuine confusion, making you hold back a chuckle at his current childlike nature. “I want to be honest with the people I care about.”

A huff escaped your lips, more collected now. “I guess that checks out since you lie so much on a daily basis.”

“Hmh, exactly”, he purred, a deep rumble vibrating in his chest and you swore you could almost feel it despite the small distance between you. “I have to lie so much to these monkeys, ‘have to play pretend. I don’t have to do that with you.” Something akin to a blissful expression formed on his face and his voice was so insufferably sultry, dripping honey that you could almost taste on your own tongue.

You pursed your lips, biting the inside of your cheek. “But you’re still my leader, it wouldn’t be really appropriate to call you by your first name”, you paused for a moment, watching his face and thinking for a brief moment that it almost looked like he was sulking. “Plus the other ones still call you Master Geto.”

“Mhm but that is different”, he sighed, confusing you even more. Different how? “And, if you insist that I’m your leader, then I give you the order to call me by my first name. You can’t resist my orders, can you?”

You let out a sigh in return, sounding exhausted, though you weren’t sure from what exactly. Maybe it was time to go for you, feeling like you’d lose your mind the longer you were with him in his current (incredibly irresistible) state.

“I believe I have to go now, Suguru. I have to be up early tomorrow.” You carefully got up from your sitting position and turned your back to him, and just as you were about to walk towards the door, you were suddenly held back and placed on the floor again, making you let out a gasp.

Strong arms were wrapped around your waist, holding onto your stomach, lightly squeezing, but still considerate with their touch. Geto’s scent enveloped you, something earthy and fresh, and just so addictive. It smelled like home. The warmth he radiated surrounded you, you were able to feel his broadness and his muscles against your body, reminding you of a shield rather than a cage. You didn’t believe you ever felt so secure.

“Don’t go.”  

“Suguru…”

“Stay here. S’comfortable when you’re around.” Oh.

You tilted your head, looking over your shoulder to get a glimpse of his face, only for your nose to almost touch his cheek. A shiver ran down your spine. His eyes were half-lidded, pupils dilated, and his eyebrows slightly furrowed; he appeared almost pained. As if the mere thought of you leaving him would hurt him deeply. You felt your knees getting weaker and you became overly aware of the way you were breathing, trying to tell yourself to take normal, regular breaths.

“Say: do you like being here?”, you felt his warm breath hitting your bare nape as he lowered his head, your hair standing up and goosebumps covering your body. “Do you ever regret joining me?”

Surprised by his sudden questioning, you raised your eyebrows. “Have I given you the impression that I did?”

His thin lips dropped into something resembling a pout. “Answer my question.”

You resisted the urge to poke his forehead, instead holding your hands still by your sides, lightly grazing his arms that were still wrapped around you, his finger caressing your covered stomach in soothing circles. “No, I never regretted joining you. In fact, I believe it was the best thing that could have happened to me.”

He hummed, somewhat satisfied by your answer yet still skeptical.

“You could have lived a simpler life.”

“Sure, perhaps I could have lived a life in blissful ignorance”, you huffed. “But I also would have lived the rest of my life wondering what’s wrong with me. Maybe I would have become mad at some point. You gave me the answers I needed, and more. You gave me purpose.”

Geto was sure – sooner or later Satoru would have discovered you and taken you under his wing. You would have become a jujutsu sorcerer; putting your life at risk, just to save monkeys who neither cared nor were even aware of your existence. No, he couldn’t have allowed this. The thought made his skin crawl, images of you being life stock haunting his mind. You were made for something better, you deserved more than that, to be untainted and free from the shackles of jujutsu society. Only he could give you that. Perhaps he was selfish in that way, for needing to have you by his side, but he would gladly indulge in that selfishness if it promised your proximity to him and your safety.  

You directed your stare towards the ceiling, a contemplative expression grazing your features. “I guess you saved me.”

You couldn’t see how his eyes were now less drowsy and became bigger, a sparkle appearing in them, and how the colors in his already reddened cheeks seemed to deepen.

“Saved you, huh”, he murmured under his breath, voice coming out muffled as he tucked his chin further into your shoulder, almost nuzzling you. Your heart stuttered at the contact, cursing him internally for touching you so casually, for acting so intimate with you.

“I’ll always keep you safe. That’s a promise. No filth should ever touch or harm you.”

“That’s quite a big promise.”

His hand grabbed your chin then, a gentle yet firm grip, the sheer size of his large palm covering it, fingertips barely grazing your bottom lip. He held your gaze, so intense and unwavering that it made your throat dry and afraid to swallow. “I mean it.”

“Alright”, you whispered, as if it was a secret only the two of you should know, forming an invisible string that held you together. “I’ll hold you to it.”

[writers-potion]

International Slang, Slang, Slang!

I'm sharing this list of slang in different languages (English, British English, French, Spanish, Italian, Japanese, Malaysian, Russian, Hindi) to use for dialogue:

English Slang

LOL = laugh out loud

OMG = oh my god

Noob = newbie

LMAO = laught my ass off

SFW = Safe work work

HMB = hit me back

XOXO = hugs and kisses

Txt = text

msg = message

cuz = because

kinda = kind of

outta = out of

'bout = about

C'mon = come on

'em = them

lil = little

lotsa = lots of

nope/nah = no

wanna = want to

dunno = don't know

lemme = let me

TBH = to be honest

gotcha = have got you

jack around = waste time

jillion = an immense number

nuke = destroy, delete

bushed = extremely tired

fab = fabulous

chicken = coward

grabbers = hands

grub = food

vanilla = plain

peanuts = very little money

British English Slang

skive = lazy or avoid doing something

knackered = tired

nicked = stolen

bugger = jerk

zed = equivalent to zzzzzz

nosh = food

dog's bollocks = awesome

bog roll = toliet paper

nutter = crazy person

punter = customer/prostitute's client

fiver = 5 euros

toff = upper class person

taking the piss = screwing around

pissed = drunk

wonky = not right

gutted = devastated

Tosser = idiot

Cock-up = screw up

Bloody = damn

Wanker = idiot

Fancy = like

Lost the plot = gone crazy

Kip = sleep or nap

Bee's knees = awesome

Dodgy = suspicious

Wicked = cool!

Know your onions = knowledgeable

Chuffed = proud

Bespoke = custom made

Give you a bell = call you

Hoover = vacuum

Tad = little bit

French Slang

Spanish Slang

Tu (me) fair chier) = (literally: you make me

shit) You are pissing me off

Ca me saoule = I'm sick of this

J'en ai ras le cul = I'm sick of this

Fringues = clothes

Grailler = to buy/steal/take/eat

Crever = to die

Crevant = exhausting

Gerber = to throw up

Defonce = stoned

Glander = to procrastinate/to do nothing/to

lay around

Va craver = go die

J'ai la dalle = I'm hungry

Avoir la flemme = not wanting to do

something

Japanese Slang

Tio = dude or guy

Guay = cool/great

Currar = to work

Fome = boring

Value = okay or sure

Colega = buddy or friend

Pasta = moneu

Majo = nice or friendly

Flipar = to be shocked

Bocachancla = gossip

Raro - weird

Papear = to eat

Resaca = hangover

Plomazo = boring

Loco = crazy

Chafa = Lame

Baka (ばか) = Stupid or idiot.

Bucchake (ぶっちゃけ) = To be honest or frank.

Chiruru (チルる) = To chill or relax.

Chō (超) = Very.

Dame (だめ) = No good or not allowed.

Dasai (ダサい) = Uncool or out of style.

Disuru (ディスる) = To disrespect or talk down about someone.

Egui (えぐい) = Awesome or incredible.

Gachi (ガチ) = Serious or real.

Ganba (がんば) = A short version of “ganbatte,” meaning “do your best” or “good luck.”

Guguru (ググる) = To Google something.

Gyaru (ギャル) = A fashion-conscious young lady with tanned skin and long nails.

Honto (ほんと ) = Really or for real.

Ii kanji (いい感じ) = To have a good vibe or feeling about something.

JK = High school girl.

Kimoi (キモい) = Creepy or gross.

Kira kira (キラキラ) = Sparkling, cute, or beautiful.

Kireru (キレる) = To snap or lose your temper.

Maji (マジ) = Seriously or really.

Moteru (モテる) = To be popular or attractive.

Mukatsuku (むかつく) = To be irritated.

Nampa (ナンパ) = To chat or pick someone up.

Sugoi (すごい) = Amazing or incredible.

Uzai (うざい) = Another word for annoying.

Wakannai (わかんない) = I don’t know.

Yabai (ヤバい) = Anything from “awesome” to “oh no.”

Russian Slang

Долбоеб (dolboyob_) = Fool, Idiot

Иди на хуй (idi na hui) = F*ck yourself

Сволочь (svo lach’) = Trash, Scum, Jerk

Жопа (zho pa) = Brat (typically used towards children)

Гавно (gav no) = Sh!t (used more when speaking to yourself rather than to insult someone)

лох (loh) = Stupid, Idiot, Sucker

Гандон (gan don) = Condom (Whilst calling someone a condom in English is just not a thing, it’s quite common in Russia. Used to refer to someone weak or just plain irritating)

Чушь собачья (chush’ sobach’ya) = Bullsh!tter

Malaysian Slang

Трахни тебя (trakhni tebya) = F*ck You

Ти дегхенераат (ti degheneraat) = You’re a degenerate

Отыебис от меныа! (otyebis ot menya!) = Move your ass / Get the f*ck away

чертовски дно (chertovski dno) = F*cking bottom (would be used when referring to hitting rock bottom.)

Bo jio = use when referring to friend who didn't invite them to a gathering (e.g. 'why you bo jio?)

Ýum cha = hang out over drinks or food at local coffee shops

belanja = I got you covered

Potong Stim = killjoy

Boss = waiters refer to their cusomters as boss, and customers call out for waiters using the same term!

Tapau/Bungkus = take-away

Ang Moh/Mat Salleh = "Western foreigners"

Kantoi = being cuaght red handed

Paiseh = shy or embarrased

Walao Eh! = brother

Macha = good friends (equivalent to "fam" in English)

Alamak! = shock, surprise, or frustration (punctuate with 'face palm' for dramatic effect)

Lah = This one really has no meaning, used to add "emphasis" and "flavor" to sentences. It is rather addictive...

Kawan baik = best friend

Jom = let's (inviting someone to do something together)

Best gila = crazy good, crazy fine (like "amazing!" in English)

Kantoi = busted

Fuyoh = WOW or OMG

Cincai = whatever

Italian Slang

Ma Dai = come on, imagine, stop it (express surprise, amazement)

Chi Se Ne Frega? = Who cares?

Scialla = stay calm

In Bocca Al Lupo = Good luck

Come Il Cacio Sui Maccheroni = like sheep's milk for the macaroni

Come Te La Passi = How is it going?

Trescare – Have a flirt

Camomillarsi – Calm down

Sbalconato – Be out of your mind

Incicognarsi – Get pregnant

Citofonarsi – Call someone by surname

Tirare tardi – To be late

Inciucio – Intrigue, a cheat, a mess

Un carnaio – Many people together in the same place

Abbioccarsi – falling asleep unexpectedly

Bordello – Problematic, confusing, and chaotic situation

Fottìo – Something that has happened or occurs in large quantities

Svalvolare – Loss of control

Rosicare – To be envious of something

Scazzato – A state of mind of malaise

Che pizza – a boring or bad thing

Sbroccare o sclerare – Getting angry and making a scene

Raga – Guys

Tranqui – abbreviation of the word “calm,” it means to stay calm

Che Figata – Cool

Meno male! – Luckily or thank goodness

Che schifo – How disgusting

Vivere alla giornata – Live in the moment

Pisolino – An Italian slang word that means “afternoon nap”

Hindi Slang

Yaar = Friend, used at the end of sentences for casual social interactions (including shopkeepers/autorickshaw drivers)

Achcha = good/okay/really?

Thik Hain = okay (+ head nod)

Arre = hey (with a higher tone = surprise, lower tone = exasperation)

Bas = that's it

Chakkar = dizziness

Funda = fundamentals

Ghanta = Yeah right

Jugaad = hack

Bakwaas = nonsense

Chalega = That will do

[moon3verland]

Guarded Hearts L.HS

·˚ ◌༘₊· ͟͞꒰➳Lee Heeseung x Fem!Reader GENRE! Angst, Fluff and Romance ✎SYNOPSIS! When (Name) becomes the unexpected target of a rival gang, Lee Heeseung, a powerful mafia boss, reveals himself as her secret protector. As Heeseung pulls her into his dangerous world of wealth, power, and betrayal, they must confront their growing feelings for each other while facing threats from every side.〘WC:9.0k 〙 『 ↳✧･ﾟ Warnings ; Violence, gun use, mentions of blood, power dynamics, mafia themes, protective behaviour, mild swearing, and suggestive content. ↳˳;; ❝ ʙᴏᴏᴋꜱʜᴇʟꜰᵕ̈೫

The dim lighting of the city street flickered as Lee Heeseung stepped out of his sleek, black car, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses that gave him a detached, unreadable expression. The midnight air was crisp, but it carried the unmistakable tension of a man who was used to command and control. Heeseung's world was one of power plays and calculated risks, and tonight, he had come to collect a debt. More Undercut

A debt he had never planned on cashing in.

Heeseung’s sharp gaze scanned the surroundings, assessing the familiar quiet suburban neighborhood. The house at the end of the cul-de-sac, with its modest charm and warm lights glowing from the inside, seemed like a sanctuary—untouched by the shadows that loomed in his life. But that was an illusion. He knew better.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out, reading the brief message from Jay, his trusted right-hand man: "She's still inside. No unusual movement."

Heeseung sighed, his jaw tightening. This was supposed to be just another routine check—a quiet night of ensuring that his secret obligation was intact. But tonight was different. Tonight, a rival gang was looking for leverage, and they'd chosen her—(Name).

Heeseung had known (Name) for years, though she had never known him. He had watched over her from a distance ever since her father, his mentor and protector, had died in a bloody skirmish that still haunted him. A promise made on that dying breath tied Heeseung to her, a promise he had never intended to break, no matter how much distance he tried to put between them.

He wasn’t supposed to get involved, but a recent threat from a rival family had changed everything. The head of the rival gang, Kim Soo-wan, had gotten word of (Name), seen her as an opportunity—a way to hurt Heeseung. He couldn't let that happen.

Tonight, he had no choice but to step out of the shadows.

Heeseung strode up the pathway, his expensive leather shoes silent against the cracked pavement. He could feel the tension simmering beneath his calm facade, his hand itching to reach for the concealed gun at his hip. As he reached the door, he took a deep breath and knocked, his heart thudding with an unusual rhythm.

A moment later, the door creaked open, and (Name) appeared, her eyes wide with confusion. She was beautiful, even in her casual clothes—a soft sweater hanging off one shoulder, her hair loose around her face. There was a warmth in her gaze that Heeseung had never seen in his world, a lightness that seemed to soften the hardened edges of his heart.

"Who are you?" she asked, a hint of curiosity and suspicion in her voice. "It’s late."

Heeseung’s expression remained calm as he slipped off his sunglasses, revealing the intensity of his dark eyes. "I’m someone who owes you a favor," he said simply, his voice low and steady.

(Name) frowned, glancing around nervously. “I don’t understand… How do you know me?”

Heeseung took a step closer, his face a mask of cool detachment. "Your father saved my life once. Now it’s my turn to return the favor."

(Name) stared at him, suspicion in her eyes. "What are you talking about? My father?"

His expression remained unreadable. "There’s no time to explain everything right now. You’re in danger, and you need to come with me." His tone was firm, offering no room for argument.

She hesitated, every instinct telling her to run, but something about the way he spoke—so calm, so controlled—gave her pause. “Why should I believe you?” she challenged, her voice wavering slightly despite her best efforts.

Heeseung’s gaze didn’t waver. His voice was low, almost emotionless. “You don’t have to. But I’m the only one between you and the people who want you dead. If you don’t trust me, you won’t make it through the night.”

Her breath hitched at the bluntness of his words, and she felt a cold shiver run down her spine. She searched his face for any sign of warmth or kindness, but found none—just a steady, calculating stare.

After a tense moment, she nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Fine. But I’m not going anywhere without answers.”

Heeseung’s lips twitched in what could barely pass as a smile. "You’ll get them," he replied curtly. "But not here." He extended his hand toward her, his eyes cold. “Come with me.”

She hesitated but slowly placed her hand in his, surprised by the firm, almost possessive grip he had. He led her out into the night without another word, his pace brisk, his mind already planning the next move. There was no reassurance, no comforting words—just a silent promise of protection.

The car ride was tense, filled with an uncomfortable silence that weighed heavy in the air. (Name) kept glancing at Heeseung, trying to read him, but his expression was hard, focused, as if he was a thousand miles away.

When they finally arrived at the high-rise, she felt a sense of awe mixed with fear. The entrance was guarded by men who moved aside at Heeseung's mere nod. He walked straight ahead, not bothering to look back, knowing she would follow.

They stepped into the private elevator, and Heeseung pressed the button for the top floor, his face as unreadable as ever. As they ascended, she could feel the weight of his presence beside her, the tension in the air palpable.

When the doors opened to his penthouse, the sheer luxury of the place made her pause, but Heeseung barely spared it a glance. “Sit,” he ordered, his tone commanding. “We need to talk.”

She obeyed, settling onto the leather sofa as he poured a glass of water with practiced efficiency. He handed it to her without a word and took a seat across from her, his eyes never leaving her face.

“Your father was involved with some very dangerous people,” he began, his voice cold, factual. “He worked for my organization. When he died, he made me promise to keep you safe.”

(Name) blinked, trying to process the revelation. “So… my father… was part of the mafia?” she whispered, a tremor in her voice.

Heeseung nodded, his gaze never softening. “More than that. He was my mentor. And when he died, he left me with a debt to repay.”

She swallowed, her grip on the glass tightening. “And now I’m in danger because of him?”

His jaw clenched, his tone even colder. “Yes. There’s a rival gang—Kim Soo-wan’s men. They know about you. They think they can use you to get to me.”

(Name) felt fear creeping up her spine. “What do they want?”

“To hurt you. To break me,” he replied flatly. “But I won’t let that happen. As long as you’re with me, you’re untouchable.”

The room fell into a tense silence. Finally, she asked, her voice soft, “Why are you doing this?”

Heeseung’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, his expression was almost unreadable. “Because I made a promise,” he said, his voice as cold as ice. “And I never break my promises.”

She swallowed hard, sensing the finality in his words. “I… I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Heeseung leaned back, his gaze never wavering. “You don’t have to. But know this: I am the only chance you have to stay alive.”

She nodded slowly, still feeling fear prickling at her skin, but there was no denying the truth in his words. “Alright… I’ll stay with you. For now.”

Heeseung’s face remained impassive. “Good,” he replied, his tone giving nothing away. “Just remember—I’m not doing this out of kindness. I’m doing this because I have to.”

Heeseung's words hung in the air like a challenge, and (Name) felt a cold shiver slide down her spine. There was a sharpness in his tone, a blunt honesty that left no room for misunderstanding. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and Heeseung’s eyes flickered briefly to her before he stood up, turning toward the expansive window that overlooked the city below.

The lights of the city glittered like a thousand secrets waiting to be uncovered, but there was no softness in Heeseung’s gaze as he stared out at them. His profile was sharp against the glass, his expression hard and unyielding.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said without looking at her. “You’re going to be here for a while.”

(Name) took a deep breath, glancing around the penthouse. Everything was immaculate, every piece of furniture expensive and carefully chosen. It was the opposite of her own cramped, cozy apartment. She felt out of place, like an intruder in a world she didn’t belong to. Her mind raced with questions, but she was too afraid to ask them, knowing Heeseung wouldn’t give her the answers she wanted.

Minutes passed in silence. She watched him, the way he held himself—rigid, tense, like a coiled spring ready to snap. Heeseung finally turned back to her, his expression unreadable.

“I need to make a few calls,” he said flatly. “Stay here. Don’t touch anything.”

His tone was authoritative, almost dismissive, and before she could reply, he walked toward a door at the far end of the room, disappearing inside. The door shut with a quiet click, leaving her alone in the vast space.

She let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She felt trapped, caught in a web she couldn’t see but could definitely feel tightening around her. Her mind whirled with everything she had just learned. Her father, a mentor to a mafia boss? And now she was a pawn in some twisted game of power and revenge.

(Name) stood up, feeling the weight of the situation press down on her shoulders. She moved to the large window, her fingers lightly touching the cold glass as she stared out at the city. The neon lights and towering buildings seemed to stretch on forever, making her feel even smaller than she already did.

Minutes turned into what felt like hours, and when the door finally opened again, Heeseung stepped out, his face as cold and composed as before. He crossed the room in a few long strides and paused in front of her, his gaze sharp.

“We’re moving,” he announced. “Pack whatever you need. We won’t be staying here for long.”

(Name) blinked, caught off guard. “What? Why?”

Heeseung’s jaw clenched, his tone impatient. “Because it’s not safe. Kim Soo-wan’s men are closing in faster than I anticipated. We need to relocate to somewhere they can’t find us.”

She stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. “But… I thought this place was secure.”

Heeseung’s expression tightened, his eyes narrowing. “Nothing is ever truly secure in this world. Now do as I say, or you’ll find out just how unsafe it can get.”

She flinched at the harshness of his words, feeling the sting of his cold demeanor. But she nodded, turning away to gather her things. Heeseung’s presence was like a shadow behind her, unyielding and constant.

“Do you always talk to people like that?” she asked suddenly, her voice barely hiding the tremor of anger.

Heeseung’s lips curled into a small, humorless smile. “People don’t usually ask me questions, (Name). They know better.”

She bristled at his tone, biting back a retort. But she knew pushing him wasn’t wise, not now. She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder, trying to keep her hands from trembling. Heeseung gave a single nod, turning toward the door.

“Follow me,” he said, already moving ahead. “And stay close. I won’t ask twice.”

The elevator ride down was silent, tense. She could feel his eyes on her, even when she didn’t look directly at him. Once they were in the car, Heeseung gave a brief, clipped order to the driver, and the vehicle pulled away from the building, speeding into the night.

Heeseung leaned back, his gaze now fixed out the window. His fingers drummed lightly on his knee, a rare show of impatience. (Name) watched him, her curiosity battling with her fear.

“Where are we going?” she finally dared to ask.

Heeseung turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting hers. “Somewhere you won’t be found. Somewhere I can control who comes and goes.”

She swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady. “And what happens after that?”

Heeseung’s expression hardened. “After that? We figure out what to do next. But right now, keeping you alive is my only priority.”

There was a finality in his voice that made her shiver. She leaned back, looking away from him, her thoughts racing. She had no idea what she had gotten herself into, but one thing was clear—Heeseung wasn’t someone who played by anyone else’s rules. And she was now caught in his game.

The car sped through the empty streets, a blur of lights and shadows passing by. (Name) felt every muscle in her body tense, her hands gripping the seat as if it were the only thing anchoring her to reality. Beside her, Heeseung remained a cold, unreadable figure, his gaze flickering out the window, but always returning to her, watching her with an intensity that made her heart race.

The silence in the car was suffocating, filled with unspoken words and unanswered questions. She wanted to ask more, to understand why her life had suddenly spiraled into chaos, but the icy edge in Heeseung's voice and the hardened look in his eyes told her that now was not the time for curiosity.

Eventually, the car turned down a narrow, dimly lit road, away from the busy streets and into a quieter, more secluded part of the city. The buildings here were older, their facades cracked and worn. They pulled up in front of a tall, nondescript building, its windows dark and empty.

Heeseung got out first, motioning for her to follow. “Stay close,” he ordered again, his tone leaving no room for argument.

She stepped out into the cool night air, the sound of distant sirens and traffic humming in the background. Heeseung led her toward a side entrance, nodding at another guard who stood by the door. The guard opened it without a word, and they slipped inside.

The interior was stark and dimly lit, the hallway narrow and bare. Heeseung moved with purpose, his steps quiet but deliberate. (Name) hurried to keep up, her eyes darting around, trying to take in her surroundings. The walls were lined with security cameras, and she could feel them tracking their every move.

They reached an elevator at the end of the hall, and Heeseung pressed a code into a keypad before the doors slid open. Once inside, he punched another code into a hidden panel, and the elevator began its ascent.

Heeseung remained silent, his jaw set, his hands resting loosely at his sides. (Name) watched him, trying to make sense of the man standing next to her. He seemed so composed, so controlled, but there was an underlying tension she couldn’t ignore—a storm just waiting to break loose.

When the elevator finally stopped, the doors opened to a spacious loft, dimly lit but clearly luxurious. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and a large wooden desk sat near a wall of windows overlooking the city. Unlike the penthouse, this place felt less like a home and more like a fortress—a place meant to hide, to strategize.

Heeseung stepped out and turned to her. “This is where you’ll stay for now. It’s secure. No one knows about it except me and a few of my most trusted men. You’ll be safe here.”

She nodded, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety. “And you? Where will you be?”

Heeseung's expression remained unchanged. “Close by. I have business to handle, but I’ll make sure to check in. My men will guard the building, so don’t try to leave. It’s for your own safety.”

(Name) bit her lip, fighting the urge to argue. “And what if I want to leave? What if I don’t want to stay here?”

Heeseung’s eyes darkened, a flicker of something dangerous passing through them. “You don’t have a choice,” he replied, his voice cold and firm. “Until I know the threat is gone, you’re staying put. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

She flinched at the finality in his tone, the way his words seemed to cut through the air like a knife. She knew better than to push further. Instead, she turned away, feeling his gaze burn into her back.

“Fine,” she muttered under her breath, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “But I expect answers. I deserve to know why my life is suddenly in danger.”

Heeseung’s eyes softened for a brief moment, a crack in his otherwise unyielding demeanor. “You’ll get them,” he said quietly. “But first, I need to make sure you survive long enough to hear them.”

Before she could respond, he turned and headed toward the door. “Get some rest. You’re going to need it,” he called over his shoulder before stepping out, the door closing behind him with a resounding click.

(Name) stood there, alone in the dimly lit loft, her mind racing with a thousand thoughts. She felt trapped in a world she didn’t understand, under the protection of a man who seemed as dangerous as the threats he was trying to shield her from. The silence in the room was oppressive, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on her.

She walked over to the windows, looking out at the city below. Her life had been turned upside down in a matter of hours, and now she was caught in the middle of a conflict she never asked to be part of.

A soft knock on the door broke her thoughts, and she turned around to see a young woman standing there—a maid, by the looks of her, holding a tray with a cup of tea.

“Mr. Lee asked me to bring this to you,” the woman said, her voice polite but distant. “He thought it might help you relax.”

(Name) managed a small nod, taking the tea from her. “Thank you,” she replied softly, watching as the maid left as quickly as she came.

She sat down on the sofa, the cup warm in her hands. She took a sip, feeling the warmth spread through her, but it did little to calm the turmoil inside her. She didn’t know what to expect next, or if she could really trust Heeseung. But one thing was clear—her life was no longer her own. And there was no telling when or how this nightmare would end.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Heeseung leaned against the wall, his face a mask of cold determination. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number, waiting as it rang. When a voice answered, he spoke in a low, controlled tone.

“Double the security around the building,” he ordered. “I don’t want any mistakes. If anyone even gets close, you know what to do.”

He hung up, sliding the phone back into his pocket. His gaze was hard, his mind racing with plans and contingencies. He couldn’t afford any slip-ups—not now. Not with everything on the line.

And as he stood there, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him, he realized just how much he was willing to sacrifice to keep her safe—even if it meant becoming the cold, ruthless man everyone thought he already was.

Hours passed slowly in the dimly lit loft. (Name) could barely sleep, her mind swirling with thoughts of her father and the life she never knew he lived. She stared at the ceiling, her eyes tracing the shadows cast by the flickering streetlights outside. Every sound in the unfamiliar space felt amplified: the distant hum of the city, the creaking of the old building settling, and the faint rustle of guards outside the door.

She finally drifted off to a restless sleep, only to be woken by the sound of her phone vibrating on the side table. She reached for it groggily, her heart racing, only to see an unknown number flashing on the screen.

She hesitated, then answered, her voice shaky. “Hello?”

A deep, unfamiliar voice responded, low and menacing. “If you want to live, you need to leave now. They’re coming for you, and Heeseung can’t protect you forever.”

(Name) froze, fear gripping her. “Who… who is this?” she stammered, her heart thundering in her chest.

The voice chuckled darkly. “Someone who knows more than you think. You have no idea what you’re caught up in, girl. Leave now, while you still can.”

The call abruptly ended, and (Name) stared at the phone, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Panic clawed at her, and she glanced around the loft, feeling suddenly trapped. Her instincts screamed at her to run, but she knew leaving wouldn’t be that simple.

She paced the room, her thoughts racing. Should she trust the anonymous caller or Heeseung, the cold, enigmatic man who held her life in his hands? She glanced at the door, contemplating her next move. Before she could decide, the door swung open, and Heeseung stepped in, his expression unreadable.

His eyes immediately fell on her, taking in her wide eyes and trembling hands. “What happened?” he demanded, his tone colder than before, sensing her fear.

She swallowed hard, trying to steady her voice. “I… I got a call. Someone said they’re coming for me, that you can’t protect me forever.”

Heeseung’s jaw tightened, and he crossed the room in two swift strides, grabbing her phone. He checked the call log, his face darkening. “Did they say anything else?”

She shook her head, biting her lip. “Just… that I should leave. That I’m in danger.”

Heeseung cursed under his breath, his eyes flashing with anger. “Soo-wan’s men. They’re getting bold,” he muttered. He turned back to her, his expression hardening. “You listen to me, and listen carefully. Don’t ever answer an unknown call again. They’re trying to scare you, to make you doubt me. That’s their game.”

(Name) flinched at his harsh tone but nodded, sensing the urgency in his words. “I’m sorry… I just… I didn’t know.”

Heeseung’s face softened slightly, but only for a moment. “It’s not your fault,” he said, his voice quieter but still firm. “But you need to understand something: in my world, trust is earned, not given. You have to trust that I’m doing everything I can to keep you safe. Or this won’t work.”

She nodded slowly, feeling a lump in her throat. “I’m trying,” she whispered.

Heeseung’s gaze lingered on her, a flicker of something passing through his eyes—something almost like regret. He took a step back, his demeanor shifting back to the cold, unyielding leader he was. “Get dressed. We’re leaving. It’s not safe here anymore.”

(Name) blinked in surprise. “Leaving? Where are we going?”

“To a place they won’t find you,” he replied curtly, already moving toward the door. “Pack only what you need. We don’t have much time.”

She quickly grabbed a bag, stuffing it with a few essentials, her hands shaking. She glanced back at Heeseung, who stood by the door, his eyes scanning the hallway outside, always alert, always calculating.

As they made their way down to the car, (Name) couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. Her nerves were on edge, every shadow seeming to conceal a hidden threat. Heeseung noticed her anxiety and placed a hand on the small of her back, guiding her firmly but gently. “Stay close,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Once inside the car, Heeseung took off, driving with a controlled urgency. The city lights blurred past them as they sped down empty streets. (Name) stole glances at him, trying to understand the man behind the cold exterior. There was a time when she might have been terrified to be alone with someone like him, but now, the fear was mixed with something else—something she couldn’t quite name.

Finally, Heeseung spoke, breaking the heavy silence. “I’ll take you to a safe house. It’s further out of the city, more secure. No one will know we’re there. You’ll be safe.”

(Name) nodded, though she couldn’t help but wonder how much longer she could live like this—constantly on the run, under his command. “And then what?” she asked softly. “How long do I have to stay hidden?”

Heeseung’s jaw clenched, and he glanced at her, his eyes unreadable. “Until they back off or until I’ve eliminated every last one of them,” he answered, his voice like steel.

Her breath caught in her throat. “Eliminate…? You mean—”

“I mean whatever it takes,” he cut her off, his voice firm, leaving no doubt about his intentions. “I’m not letting them get to you. Not now, not ever.”

A cold shiver ran down her spine, but she nodded, understanding the gravity of his words. She could see the ruthless determination in his eyes—the lengths he was willing to go to protect her. And despite the fear, there was a strange sense of safety in knowing he would stop at nothing to keep her safe.

They continued to drive into the night, the city fading into the distance, the road stretching out ahead of them like an uncertain future. (Name) sat back, trying to calm her racing heart, knowing that whatever lay ahead, she would have to trust him. She didn’t have much of a choice anymore.

But one question still burned in her mind—a question she was too afraid to ask. Why? Why was he willing to go to such lengths for her? What was it about her father’s promise that made him so determined to keep her alive?

And as the night stretched on, with only the sound of the road beneath them and the hum of the engine in the air, (Name) realized she might never truly understand the man sitting beside her—the man who was both her captor and her protector, her greatest fear, and her only hope.

The safe house was miles outside the city, nestled in the woods where the dense trees swallowed the moonlight, casting long, eerie shadows across the narrow path leading to it. Heeseung drove in silence, his face a mask of concentration. The tension in the car was thick, almost suffocating.

When they finally arrived, the building came into view—a small, nondescript cabin that looked abandoned from the outside, the perfect hiding place. Heeseung parked the car and turned off the engine, but he made no move to get out. He stayed still, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white. For a moment, he seemed lost in thought.

(Name) watched him carefully, her heart still racing from the events of the night. She knew better than to ask questions right now, but her curiosity and anxiety were at war inside her. Finally, Heeseung seemed to snap back into the moment. He opened his door and stepped out, motioning for her to follow.

"Stay close," he repeated, his voice low but commanding.

She nodded, stepping out into the cool night air, the sound of crickets filling the silence. Heeseung led her to the cabin, pulling out a set of keys and unlocking the door. The interior was dimly lit, with only a single lamp casting a weak glow over the room. The place was sparse, but it was clean, with a few pieces of furniture and the bare essentials—a table, a couple of chairs, a sofa, and a small kitchen area.

Heeseung locked the door behind them and then turned to her, his expression still guarded. "You should get some rest," he said, his tone flat. "There’s a bedroom down the hall. It’s small, but it’ll do for now."

(Name) nodded, glancing around the unfamiliar space. “What about you?” she asked, her voice quieter than she intended.

Heeseung shrugged. “I’ll keep watch. Make sure no one followed us. I don’t sleep much anyway.”

His words were cold, almost indifferent, but she could sense the underlying concern—the way his eyes flickered to the windows, always checking, always on alert. She wondered how long he’d been living like this—constantly on edge, never fully at ease.

She hesitated, biting her lip. “Heeseung… I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know if I can trust you, but… thank you. For keeping me safe.”

Heeseung’s expression remained unchanged, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a brief crack in his cold exterior. “Don’t thank me yet,” he muttered. “We’re not out of this mess.”

He turned away from her, moving to check the windows, pulling the curtains tighter. She watched him for a moment longer before retreating down the hallway to the small bedroom. The room was sparse, just a bed and a dresser, but it felt like a sanctuary after the chaos of the day.

She closed the door behind her and sank onto the bed, her thoughts racing. Every part of her wanted to collapse, to give in to the exhaustion clawing at her, but sleep felt impossible. The weight of everything that had happened pressed down on her, making it hard to breathe.

Meanwhile, in the living room, Heeseung paced back and forth, his mind spinning with calculations and contingency plans. He knew they’d made a bold move by bringing her out here. It would buy them time, but not much. Soo-wan's men were relentless, and he couldn’t afford to let his guard down for a second.

His phone buzzed, pulling him out of his thoughts. It was a message from Jay, one of his most trusted men.

Message from Jay: "Got word from the streets. Soo-wan’s looking for her, hard. He’s pissed, and he’s not giving up. What’s the next move?"

Heeseung stared at the message, his jaw clenching. He quickly typed back.

Message to Jay: "Stay low. I’ve got her out of the city. Keep an eye on the usual spots, and don’t engage unless necessary."

He put his phone away, his mind already formulating the next steps. He knew he needed to get ahead of Soo-wan, to find a way to end this once and for all. But the truth was, he didn’t have a clear plan yet. And that uncertainty gnawed at him like a festering wound.

Heeseung’s thoughts were interrupted by the soft sound of footsteps. He turned to see (Name) standing at the doorway, her expression uncertain.

“I… I couldn’t sleep,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Everything’s too quiet.”

Heeseung’s gaze softened for just a second, then he nodded. “It’s understandable. This isn’t a normal situation for you. But you’ll get used to it.”

She swallowed, stepping further into the room. “Do you ever get used to it?” she asked, her eyes searching his face.

Heeseung hesitated, then shook his head slightly. “No. You don’t. But you learn to survive. You learn to adapt.”

(Name) nodded, absorbing his words. She hesitated before speaking again. “Why do you do it? Why this life? You seem… different from the others.”

Heeseung’s expression hardened again, and he turned away, looking out the window into the darkness. “We don’t choose this life,” he said quietly. “It chooses us. Circumstances, decisions… they lead us down a path, and sometimes, there’s no turning back.”

She could hear the pain in his voice, the weight of whatever history he carried. She wanted to ask more, to understand, but she sensed that his walls were up again, impenetrable. So she nodded, accepting the answer he was willing to give.

Heeseung glanced back at her, his gaze sharp. “You should try to get some rest,” he said firmly. “We have a long day ahead tomorrow.”

She nodded, turning to leave, but paused at the doorway. “Heeseung… be careful.”

Heeseung gave a curt nod, his face unreadable. “Always am,” he replied, his voice low. And with that, she turned and walked back down the hallway, feeling a strange mixture of fear and something else—something she couldn’t quite place.

As she lay back down, her thoughts drifted to Heeseung, to his cold demeanor, and the fleeting glimpses of vulnerability she’d seen beneath it. She wondered what had brought him to this life, what had made him the man he was. And somewhere, deep down, she wondered if she’d ever find a way to break through those walls.

But for now, she was trapped in his world—a world of shadows and secrets, where trust was a rare and precious commodity, and survival was the only goal that mattered. And as the night wore on, with the silence stretching between them, she knew that this was only the beginning of a dangerous game—one where the stakes were life and death, and the rules were written in blood.

he night dragged on, the darkness outside the cabin feeling endless. Heeseung sat by the window, his posture tense, eyes flicking between the shadows beyond and his phone screen. Every little noise—a rustling leaf, a distant animal cry—set him on edge, and he tightened his grip on the gun resting on the table beside him.

He didn't know how long he sat there, but the faint light of dawn began to creep in through the cracks of the curtains, painting the room in muted shades of gray. Heeseung’s body was exhausted, but his mind refused to rest. He couldn’t afford to relax, not when Soo-wan’s men were out there, hunting for any sign of them.

A soft sound behind him made him turn his head. (Name) stood in the doorway, wearing an oversized sweatshirt she had found in the small closet. Her eyes were tired, but there was a quiet determination in her expression.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Heeseung asked, his voice low and gruff.

She shook her head. “Not really. I keep thinking… about my father, about you, about everything.”

Heeseung nodded, his face still unreadable. “It’s a lot to process. But you need to rest. Your body and mind are both running on fumes, and that’s not going to help us.”

She took a few hesitant steps closer. “What about you? Have you slept at all?”

Heeseung smirked, but there was no humor in it. “Sleep is a luxury I can’t afford right now.”

She bit her lip, sensing the tension radiating from him. She knew he was trying to protect her, but there was a coldness to him, an unyielding strength that kept her at a distance. And yet, she felt an inexplicable urge to get closer, to understand the man behind the icy exterior.

(Name) approached the window and leaned against the wall next to him, her eyes following his to the shadows outside. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know,” she said quietly. “I’m not completely helpless. I can handle myself if I need to.”

Heeseung shot her a glance, his lips tightening into a thin line. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he muttered. “You’ve never had to survive in this world, to face what I’ve faced.”

Her brows furrowed, feeling a flare of defiance rise in her chest. “I know I’m not as experienced as you, but that doesn’t mean I’m useless. My father taught me how to take care of myself. I’m not just some sheltered girl.”

Heeseung’s eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing through her. “And what did your father teach you, exactly? How to hide? How to run? That’s not enough. Not in this life. You have no idea what these people are capable of.”

(Name) met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down. “Then show me,” she challenged. “Teach me what I need to know.”

Heeseung stared at her, caught off guard by her sudden boldness. For a moment, he said nothing, the silence thickening between them. Then, he let out a short, bitter laugh. “You think it’s that simple? That I can just teach you how to survive?”

She held her ground, her expression resolute. “I think if you’re going to drag me into this world, I deserve to know how to survive in it.”

Heeseung’s eyes softened, just for a second, before his cold mask slipped back into place. He nodded slowly. “Fine. You want to learn? I’ll teach you. But it won’t be easy. And you’re not going to like it.”

She squared her shoulders, determination blazing in her eyes. “I’m not looking for easy. I’m looking to survive.”

Heeseung watched her for another moment, then nodded again, more firmly this time. “Alright. Let’s start with the basics. Follow me.”

He led her outside to the small clearing behind the cabin. The air was crisp, the sun just beginning to rise, casting a golden hue over the dew-covered grass. Heeseung reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, compact handgun. He checked it over quickly before handing it to her.

(Name) took the gun, her hands steady despite the way her heart pounded in her chest. She had never held a real gun before—only seen them in movies or news reports. But as her fingers closed around the cold metal, a strange sense of calm settled over her.

Heeseung’s gaze was sharp, scrutinizing her every move. “First lesson: always know your weapon,” he began, his voice authoritative. “Feel the weight of it, know its parts, understand how it works. This isn’t just a tool—it’s an extension of yourself in a fight.”

She nodded, taking his words to heart. Her fingers brushed over the barrel, the grip, feeling the contours of the weapon. Heeseung stepped closer, guiding her hands, showing her how to properly hold it.

“Always keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot,” he instructed, his voice low and steady. “And when you aim, focus on your target. Clear your mind of everything else.”

He stepped back, watching her as she adjusted her stance. “Now, aim at that tree over there,” he instructed, pointing to a thick, sturdy oak a few yards away.

She raised the gun, her arms trembling slightly as she lined up her shot. Her breath was shallow, her mind racing. She could feel Heeseung’s eyes on her, cold and assessing.

“Breathe,” he murmured, his voice a soft command. “Steady your hands. Focus.”

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. She steadied her grip, adjusted her aim, and squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out, echoing through the woods, and the recoil jerked her arms back. The bullet missed the tree entirely, striking the ground a few feet away.

Heeseung didn’t react, his expression unreadable. “Again,” he said simply.

(Name) frowned, her frustration mounting, but she raised the gun again, aiming carefully. She took another deep breath and fired. This time, the shot hit closer, but still missed the target.

Heeseung nodded slightly, his tone still cold. “Better. But not good enough. You need to be precise. Every shot counts.”

(Name) gritted her teeth, determination flaring in her chest. She adjusted her stance again, her focus sharpening. She fired once more, and this time, the bullet hit the tree with a satisfying thunk.

Heeseung’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but he quickly masked it. “Good,” he said, his tone still firm. “Keep practicing. You’re going to need to be a lot faster if you want to survive.”

She nodded, feeling a strange mix of frustration and satisfaction. Heeseung’s cold demeanor hadn’t softened, but there was a hint of approval in his voice that she found herself oddly craving.

As the morning wore on, Heeseung continued to train her, pushing her harder with every exercise. He taught her how to fight, how to disarm an opponent, how to move silently through the woods. Each lesson was grueling, and he offered no encouragement, only cold, blunt criticism. But (Name) didn’t give up. She pushed herself, determined to prove that she could handle whatever this world threw at her.

By midday, she was exhausted, her body aching, but she felt a sense of accomplishment she hadn’t expected. Heeseung finally called for a break, and she sank down onto the grass, breathing heavily.

Heeseung watched her, his expression unreadable. “You did better than I expected,” he admitted, a faint hint of admiration in his voice.

She looked up at him, surprised by the rare compliment. “Thanks,” she managed to say between breaths.

Heeseung nodded, his face still serious. “But don’t get too comfortable. This is just the beginning. The real test is yet to come.”

(Name) nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. She knew she had a long way to go, but she was willing to do whatever it took to survive. And maybe, just maybe, she’d find a way to thaw the icy wall Heeseung had built around himself.

For now, she was ready to face whatever came next, even if it meant diving headfirst into a world of danger, betrayal, and secrets.

Heeseung kept up his relentless pace, guiding (Name) through a series of increasingly complex training exercises. They worked through the afternoon and well into the evening, with only brief breaks for water and food. By the time night fell, (Name) was physically and mentally drained, but she had improved markedly.

The penthouse’s luxurious setting felt like a distant memory as she collapsed onto the sofa, her muscles aching. Heeseung, as always, remained composed, his gaze sharp as he observed her. He poured a glass of water for her and handed it over without a word.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice hoarse. She took a long sip, savoring the coolness.

Heeseung finally allowed himself a moment of relaxation, though his expression remained impassive. “You did well today,” he said, his tone begrudgingly approving. “But don’t expect any more praise. We’re not here to coddle you.”

(Name) managed a tired smile, looking up at him. “I didn’t expect you to. But I appreciate it anyway.”

Heeseung’s gaze flickered with something—perhaps surprise, or even a trace of warmth—but he quickly masked it with his usual cold demeanor. “We’ll continue tomorrow. Get some rest. You’re going to need it.”

She nodded, rising from the sofa with a groan. The exhaustion was overwhelming, but she felt a strange sense of accomplishment. The world outside was still dangerous, and Heeseung’s cold, unyielding demeanor was a constant reminder of that. Yet, despite everything, she felt an unexpected bond forming between them—one forged in the fires of adversity.

As she made her way to the bedroom, she glanced back at Heeseung, who had returned to his position by the window, his silhouette stark against the city lights. There was something about him—an unspoken depth that intrigued her, even if he kept it carefully hidden behind layers of coldness and detachment.

The next few days followed a similar pattern. Heeseung continued to train (Name), pushing her to her limits and beyond. Each session was grueling, but (Name) refused to back down. She was determined to prove herself, not just to Heeseung but to herself. Every bruise, every ache, was a step toward becoming stronger.

Throughout it all, Heeseung remained distant, his interactions with her limited to instructions and corrections. He rarely spoke of personal matters, and his emotions remained well-guarded. But there were fleeting moments when his gaze softened ever so slightly, when he showed a hint of concern beneath his icy exterior.

One evening, after a particularly intense training session, Heeseung found (Name) sitting on the balcony, staring out at the city skyline. The city lights below flickered like a sea of stars, casting a soft glow over the scene.

Heeseung approached silently, taking a seat beside her. For once, he didn’t have a scathing comment or a harsh criticism. He simply sat in silence, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

(Name) looked at him, her eyes tired but curious. “You ever think about what you’ll do once all this is over?” she asked quietly.

Heeseung’s gaze remained fixed on the city. “I don’t have time for that,” he replied. “There’s always another threat, another problem to deal with.”

She nodded, understanding the weight of his words. “I guess it’s hard to think about the future when you’re constantly dealing with the present.”

Heeseung glanced at her, a flicker of something—vulnerability, perhaps—in his eyes. “You’re getting better at this. Faster than I expected.”

She managed a small smile, though her fatigue was evident. “Thanks to you. I wouldn’t have made it this far without your help.”

Heeseung’s lips twitched slightly, though he quickly masked it with his usual stoic expression. “Just doing what needs to be done.”

The silence that followed was comfortable, a rare break from the constant tension. For a moment, it felt as though they were simply two people sharing a quiet moment, not bound by danger or duty.

But the reprieve was short-lived. The following day brought new challenges, and with them, renewed threats. Heeseung’s demeanor grew colder, more intense, as he focused on the impending danger. The rival gang’s attempts to track them down had intensified, and Heeseung’s focus was unwavering.

Heeseung’s attention to detail was meticulous, every action calculated and precise. He prepared for every possible scenario, ensuring that (Name) was always protected. His coldness was a shield, one that he used to keep his emotions at bay, even as he fought to keep her safe.

(Name) continued to train diligently, her skills improving with each passing day. The bond between her and Heeseung grew stronger, forged through shared trials and relentless training. There was an unspoken understanding between them, a connection that transcended words.

One evening, as they prepared for another round of training, Heeseung pulled her aside. “We’re moving out of the penthouse,” he said abruptly. “The rival gang has narrowed down our location. We need to stay ahead of them.”

(Name)’s heart sank at the news, but she nodded, ready to follow his lead. “Where are we going?”

Heeseung’s expression was unreadable. “A secure location. We’ll be safer there.”

As they packed up their belongings, (Name) couldn’t shake the feeling of impending danger. The city outside was a constant reminder of the threat they faced, but she was determined to stay strong.

Heeseung’s focus was unwavering, his every action calculated and precise. He was a master at navigating the dangerous world he inhabited, and (Name) was learning to adapt to it, driven by her own resolve and determination.

The journey to their new location was tense, the atmosphere heavy with anticipation. Heeseung remained vigilant, his gaze scanning the surroundings as they traveled. (Name) sat beside him, her mind racing with thoughts of what lay ahead.

When they arrived at the secure location, a secluded estate surrounded by high walls and guarded by security personnel, (Name) felt a mix of relief and apprehension. The estate was luxurious, yet its isolation was a stark reminder of the danger they faced.

As they settled in, Heeseung’s demeanor remained as cold and calculated as ever. But (Name) could sense a subtle shift—an underlying protectiveness that he struggled to hide.

Despite the danger, there were moments of quiet between them, moments where Heeseung’s cold facade cracked just slightly. They would sit together in the evenings, sharing small, unguarded moments. Heeseung would speak more openly, revealing glimpses of the man behind the mafia boss. And (Name) found herself increasingly drawn to him, despite his guarded nature.

The days turned into weeks, and the danger continued to loom. But with Heeseung by her side, (Name) felt a strange sense of security. His presence, though cold and distant, was a constant reminder of his commitment to keeping her safe.

One evening, as they sat on the estate’s balcony overlooking the city, (Name) turned to Heeseung, her eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and curiosity. “You’ve done so much for me. Why?”

Heeseung’s gaze was fixed on the city lights, his expression impassive. “Because I made a promise,” he said softly. “To your father. And because… I care about you.”

His admission hung in the air, a rare glimpse into the man behind the mafia boss. (Name) felt her heart swell at his words, and for a moment, the coldness that had defined their interactions seemed to melt away.

She reached out, placing a hand on his. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “For everything.”

Heeseung’s eyes met hers, and for a fleeting moment, there was a warmth in his gaze. He squeezed her hand gently, a silent acknowledgment of the bond they had formed.

As the sun set over the city, casting a warm glow over the estate, (Name) felt a sense of peace. Despite the danger and uncertainty, she had found a connection with Heeseung that transcended their circumstances.

In the heart of the storm, amidst the shadows and secrets, they had found something real. And as they faced the challenges ahead, they would do so together, united by their shared trials and their unspoken bond.

As the evening settled into a tranquil hush, Heeseung led (Name) through the sprawling gardens of the estate. The soft glow of the moonlight cast a gentle sheen over the meticulously maintained grounds, and the faint scent of blooming flowers lingered in the air. The peaceful ambiance was a stark contrast to the tension they had lived through, creating a serene backdrop for the conversation that was about to unfold.

They walked side by side, their footsteps barely making a sound on the gravel path. The silence between them was comfortable, filled with the unspoken understanding that had grown between them over the past few weeks. Heeseung’s usual cold demeanor had thawed, revealing a side of him that was softer and more vulnerable.

As they reached a secluded spot beneath a large, ancient oak tree, Heeseung stopped and turned to face (Name). The tree’s sprawling branches provided a natural canopy, and the moonlight filtering through the leaves created a dappled effect on the ground.

Heeseung’s expression was serious, his eyes reflecting the moon’s pale light. He took a deep breath, his gaze locking with hers. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he began, his voice steady but tinged with emotion.

(Name) met his gaze with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation, her heart racing in her chest. “What is it, Heeseung?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung took a step closer, the distance between them shrinking until they were just a breath apart. His hand reached out, gently cupping her cheek. The touch was tender, his fingers warm against her skin. “These past few weeks have been… different. I’ve spent so much of my life hiding behind walls, pushing people away. But with you, it’s been different.”

Heeseung’s thumb brushed lightly over her cheekbone, his eyes searching hers for understanding. “You’ve seen a side of me that no one else has. You’ve seen the parts of me I’ve tried so hard to keep hidden. And despite everything, you’ve stood by me. You’ve shown me what it means to care about someone.”

He hesitated, his voice faltering for a moment. “I never thought I’d let anyone in, especially not someone as incredible as you. But the truth is, I’ve come to care about you in ways I didn’t expect. You’ve become so important to me, and I can’t ignore what I feel anymore.”

(Name)’s breath caught in her throat as she listened to his heartfelt confession. Her eyes glistened with emotion, the depth of his words touching her deeply. She reached up, placing her hand over his, her own fingers trembling slightly.

Heeseung’s gaze softened, his expression filled with a mixture of vulnerability and resolve. “I know our circumstances aren’t ideal. We’ve been through so much, and there’s still so much uncertainty. But I want you to know that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to protect you and to make things right.”

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting gently against hers. The closeness of their bodies, the shared warmth, created an intimate moment that felt like it was suspended in time. “I’m not just protecting you because of a promise. I’m doing it because… I’ve fallen for you. I’ve fallen for you in ways I never thought possible.”

(Name) closed her eyes, savoring the closeness and the sincerity of his words. Her heart was pounding, a mixture of joy and relief flooding through her. When she opened her eyes again, she saw the sincerity in Heeseung’s gaze.

“I care about you too, Heeseung,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. “I’ve come to see you for who you really are, and despite everything, I’m grateful for what we’ve shared. I want to be with you, not just because of the danger, but because I care about you deeply.”

Heeseung’s eyes softened even further, a rare and genuine smile gracing his lips. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender, passionate kiss. The kiss was slow and deliberate, filled with the depth of the emotions they had both been holding back. It was a promise of more to come, a declaration of their newfound connection.

As they pulled away, Heeseung’s hand remained on her cheek, his thumb gently brushing against her skin. “Then let’s face whatever comes next together,” he said softly. “We’ve been through so much, and I want us to be more than just survivors of our circumstances. I want us to be something real, something lasting.”

(Name) nodded, her heart full and her spirit uplifted. “I want that too,” she said, her voice filled with conviction. “Let’s move forward together, and face whatever challenges come our way. We’ll do it side by side.”

The night continued to envelop them, the city lights shimmering below, as they stood together under the ancient oak tree. Their shared moment was one of profound connection, a testament to the strength of their bond and the beginning of a new chapter in their lives.

With the danger receding and their relationship solidified, Heeseung and (Name) embraced the future with renewed hope and purpose. They knew their journey had been arduous, but it had led them to a place of genuine connection and enduring love.

© ★ Moon , 2024— all rights reserved to me. Please do not copy or steal my work in any way. 

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[lemondeabicyclette]

Il devrait plutôt faire des lances qui empalent les morons qui laissent leurs ordures* sur les plages.

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

GIVE PEACE A CHANCE - J.M

Warnings: mentions of sex, runaway children?

Pairing: pre-outbreak Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: you had never thought that finding s little girl injured in the street would lead to loving a man that you had just met.

Wordcount: 3.1k

The summer sun was sweltering as you walked down the street, shopping bags heavy in your hands as you tried to make it back to your house. The summer of 1997 was too warm for your liking and you couldn’t wait for it to cool down into the fall.

You had just moved into the Texan neighbourhood and didnt know anyone yet; your best friend who you were sharing the house with had met a few people including the new mother Janet and the Adlers who seemed like the classic gossipers. Your introverted nature was challenged here where all the neighbours seemed to be friends.

You placed your bags down at the end of your drive as you tried to reach for your keys in the pocket of your shorts, rummaging round for them and finally pulling them out when you heard a little girls cry.

Your head instantly whipped around as you looked for where the sound came from and when you spotted the little girl in the middle of the street, lying there as she clutched onto her leg, you looked around. There was nobody else coming for her and normally, you would assume that someone was going to come and get her, something in you told you to check on her.

You looked at the little girl as she jogged over. She had dark curly hair that was tied into two pigtails on either side of her head and her face was distorted with the tears. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she clutched onto her knee and that’s when you spotted the gash along her leg, it was dark with blood and dirt.

Once again you looked around to see if there was anybody looking for the girl and when nobody came at the sound of her cries, you assumed she must have been some kind of runaway and that piqued your interest. You didnt want some little girl to be stuck out here in the heat by herself.

You knelt down next to her and she looked up at you, eyes wide and mouth turned into a frown as she scooted a little bit back, “My daddy says not to talk to strangers,” she said between her sobs, her words coming out in hiccups.

There was a reassurance that she had parents and once again you looked around for them but they were nowhere to be seen and that made you even more worried for the little girl.

You smiled, trying to seem non-threatening, “I just moved onto the street, that’s my house,” you said, pointing at the small bungalow on the corner of the street where you had dumped your bags. You pulled out your key from your pocket to show the house number on and she looked over your shoulder at your house, “See, I’m not gonna hurt you,”

She sniffled, the hand that wasn’t clutching onto her leg going up to her face to wipe her face clean, “You’re the pretty girl my Uncle Tommy was talking about,” she said nonchalantly.

Your face heated up as you looked at her, you didn’t realise that anybody had noticed her and hoped that her uncle wasnt some creepy old perv, “Where is your uncle Tommy?” You asked and she shook her head before turning her head to wipe her nose on her shoulder.

“At home,” she explained between her sniffles but it seemed that your presence had calmed her down because she wasn’t sobbing anymore at the pain from her leg

When you noticed a car making its way across the road, you extended your hand to her, “Let’s get you out of the road kid,” you said and you could see the way she hesitated before taking your hand and allowing you to pull her up.

You helped her up, hand on her shoulder as you ushered her out of the road as the car sped past through the cul-de-sac and towards the exit of the street. She winced when she stepped up the curb before sitting back down on the side.

“What’s your name honey?” You asked and she looked up at you, eyes red from the crying.

“Sarah,” she said and you said your name to her and she repeated, “That’s a pretty name,”

“Thank you Sarah, your names very pretty too,” you said, the pad of your thumb brushing a tear away from her cheek and she smiled at the action.

You were still curious as to why this little girl was crying in the middle of the street and why she was out here all by herself. You looked around again and nobody was coming to get her so you began to fear the worst.

“What’s happened to your leg?” You asked and she looked down, sniffling to herself.

“I was looking for fireflies in the garden and followed them out here and I fell over,” she explained and you nodded, looking at her knee. It was just a bit of a graze that needed to be cleaned up but she must have been in pain because you could see her wincing every time she touched it.

“Does that hurt?” You asked and she nodded, her demeanour turning shy.

You pressed a kiss to your pointer finger before placing it on the wound and she grinned, “You feel any better?” You asked and she nodded, a chuckle on her lips.

You smiled at the girl and looked around again, hoping she didnt see the worried crease between your brows.

“Where do you live honey?” You asked and she pointed at the house only a few doors away from where you were sitting. It seemed like a nice home with a porch and a big bay window that pointed out to the street.

“I'll take you home yeah, your daddy’s probably worried about you,” you said and you picked her up, the little girls legs wrapping around your waist and your hadn coming under her legs, supporting her.

As you walked across the street, you could hear yelling and assumed that it was the new couple thaat had moved in. It was a typical suburban street and as you looked around, you wondered what kind of dream you were living in.

“How old are you Sarah?” You asked as you walked the distance to her house and she looked over at you, her arms wrapped around your neck.

“I’m six,” she said and you nodded.

“You’re such a big girl,” you said and her face lit up, “I’m 23,”

That’s when you heard the door slam open at Sarahs house and some man stood at the door, yelling into the house, “Damn it Tommy! You don’t leave the gate open!” He exclaimed.

He seemed stressed out, his hands running through his hair and down to his beard as he scanned the area for his daughter and when his eyes landed on you holding the little girl in your arms, his shoulders sunk as all the tension left him.

The man immediately started running towards you and you finally got a good look at him. He was an attractive man who was probably only a few years older than you who had a grey hair or two growing from his hair - probably from the stress of this runaway child of his. He had deep brown eyes and a deep crease between them from where he was furrowing his brows.

You couldn’t imagine what he was thinking as he saw some random woman holding his child in the middle of the street and you walked faster to get there.

“Sarah, there you are babygirl,” he said, holding his hands out and you seamlessly passsed her over to her father. He ignored you for a second as he doted on the little girl, his hand coming to her face to smooth out the curls on her forehead, “What were you doing out here,”

“I was looking for fireflies daddy, and I fell over,” she said and her father instantly checked her over, spotting the graze on her leg.

He tutted to himself before bringing his hand back to her face, “My brave girl, does it hurt?”

She nodded her head before turning to look at you, “But our neighbour made it better,” she said before saying your name.

Her fathers attentions turned back to you and you felt like as he looked at you, eyes narrowed, that the entire gaze of the world was on you and he was somehow looking into your soul. Your face lit up under his gaze, the warmth spreading over your cheeks as you lifted your hadn up for a wave.

He repeated your name back to you and you nodded. You could almost see the cogs turning in his mind as he tried to figure out what your intentions were so you clarified it for him, “I was putting my groceries away when I heard her crying,” you explained.

Once again, you watched some of the tension fall out of his shoulders and the crease between his brows lessen. He was about to say something when he heard someone call his name out, Joel.

“Joel! Did you find her?” The voice asked and you turned to see a man standing at the doorway of the house, one hand holding onto the doorway and the other by his side.

You assumed that this other attrctaive man was his younger brother, the uncle tommy who yous attention you allegedly had caught. Joel turned back to look at him and you saw his face contort into one of annoyance.

“Yeah, no thanks to you! Get dinner set up, we’ll be in soon,” he called out and Tommys eyes locked with yours.

“Can she stay for dinner daddy?” Sarahs voice asked innocently and you turned your attention away from the man at the door to the man standing here.

His eyes scanned you over again and you could already tell that he was an untrusting man who wasnt sure what you wanted. But as he looked at you, he couldn’t deny that you were beautiful but you seemed younger than him and at thirty, he wasnt used to having dinner with beautiful girls.

“I don’t want to intrude,” you said, taking a step back as your introverted side came out, clear and apparent.

Sarahs eyes were wide as she looked up at her father and he sighed as he looked back at you, “We have enough for one more if you want,” he said, his tone gruff and almost reluctant.

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips and you nodded, “Let me put my groceries away and uh, ill be back,” you said, your hadn reaching out hesitantly to brush a piece of hair behind the girls ears and her face lit up.

Joel watched as you rushed back to your house and he walked back into the house, looking down at Sarah, “Let’s get your knee cleaned up okay,” he said and she nodded.

He carried her into the bathroom, sitting her down on the toilet seat as he pulled the first aid kit out from under the sink. Gently, he brushed a wipe against the dirt on the graze, looking up to see the tears welling up in the girls eyes - he hated to see her cry.

He placed a colourful themed plaster on her knee before pressing a kiss to the plaster and watching as the tears left her. He wiped a tear away before helping her to her feet, taking her hand in his.

“She’s very pretty daddy,” she said as she looked up at him.

He shrugged, “I guess so,” he said as he looked away from his daughter and out of the window to see you lightly jogging back over to his house.

As soon as you had left his house, you knew that he was a special man with a very lovely little girl. You rushed into your house, fumbling again with your keys as you rushed to make it inside so that he wasn’t waiting too long.

You sprayed a bit of perfume on, trying to look nice as you brushed your hair out. You didnt want this man to think that you were a slob. to say that you were instantly attracted to the man would be true, the second you laid eyes on him you had fallen completley for him even though you didnt know what he was like.

You knew your best friend would never let you live it down if you didnt at least try to look nice and shoot your shot. You rushed back to his house, trying not to look too eager as you knocked on the door.

Sarah was the one who opened it and before her father could scold her for opening the door when she didnt know who was outside, the words were taken from his mouth. It was just a quick bit of a makeup and a nicer outfit but he thought you were stunning.

“You want to come in?” He asked and you nodded. He watched as you walked in, merrily chatting to Sarah and he cursed himself. He hadnt felt these feelings bubbling up in his chest since Sarahs mother had left him and he knew what had happened to him then.

He hadnt dated in six years, hadn’t kissed a woman since Sarahs mother and although he got plenty of action and was hit on by every single mother in the school district, he hadn’t dated anyone in a while.

He pulled out the chair for you at the table and you smiled, sitting down and thanking him. Sarah rambled on about something that she was reading and he watched as you listened intently, asking questions and stoking her joy.

As Tommy and Joel started to grab the pasta that he had made for dinner, the younger brother had a smirk on his face as he saw the way that Joel watched you.

“Ive never seen you look at a woman like that before,” He said with a teasing smile on his face.

Joel turned to him, a glare on his face, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, picking up a kiddy bowl of pasta and another one for you.

He placed the bowl down on Sarahs mat and smiled at her before turning to you, “I hope you like it, you’re not allergic to anything right?” He questioned.

You blinked, thinking over what he said before shaking your head, “No, nothing, and this is lovely, thank you for inviting me,” you said, trying to hide your nervousness.

“You want wine ma’am?” Tommy asked and you looked at Joel before nodding, watching as the man poured you a glass of red.

He pursed some for Joel and himself before putting a glass of milk down for Sarah, “So, when did you move into the neighbourhood?” Joel asked you.

You finished your mouthful of food before looking at him, “A few weeks back, me and my friend just finished our gap year and I’ve got a job locally,” you explained. His eyes went wide and you could tell he was wondering how old you were and you chuckled at his reaction, “I’m twenty three,”

He nodded, a slight smile on his face as Tommy smiled ast his brothers reaction, hed ever seen him this comfortable in front og a girl he had just met before and knew that you were someone special but he could also tell that he was insecure about the slight age gap.

Once dinner was over and Sarah had said goodbye to you, you stood at the door, the evening setting sun illuminating down on you, “Thank you so much Joel, I had a really nice night,” you said, a smile on your face, “And if you ever need a babysitter, I’m just across the street,”

“I might just have to take you up on that, good night,” he said and you repeated the sentient before taking a step outside of the house.

Joel looked back at his brother who stood in the doorframe, shaking his head at his brothers inability to make a move. There was a moment where he hesitated as he looked at you start to walk away.

He had been scared ever since Sarah’s mother to fall in love but there was something about you after you’d only known each other for a few hours that he knew he could trust. He was worried about introductions a woman into Sarahs life but she had already warmed up to you so he wasnt too worried.

He called out your name and you turned back, a smile still evident on your face from the dinner “Would you like to have dinner sometime? Without Sarah?” He asked and your face lit up.

You nodded a little too enthusiastically, “I’d love to,” you said, walking back and digging around your purse for a pen before scribbling your house phone number onto his hand, “Call me sometime, or you know where i live so,”

Your voice trailed off and you leaned over, pressing a kiss to his cheek that made both your faces heat up in a blush before you started to walk away.

You were halfway across the street when you turned back to look at him still standing in his doorway, waiting for you to go into your house and you smiled to yourself at the situation. You could already tell that you were going to like him a lot.

I loved writing this and was thinking of doing s sequel of their date and something just because I think that'll be cute, let me know what you think :)

[thatsdemko]

love thy neighbor - t.wolff

masterlist

pairings: Toto Wolff x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of ideas not intended for minors + next door neighbor trope + NO age gap!(for the sake of the fic both reader and Toto are relatively close in age)

a/n: been working on this one for a hot minute! hope you enjoy xx

you never hated your neighbor. to be fair, to hate someone you have to know their name and all you know is he has a extravagant life style to afford vintage Mercedes Benz cars and have shelves full of trophies. call yourself a snooper, but the man across the way was never good at hiding his life from your window.

his lifestyle was far different than anyone in the cul de sac you live in. half of them being retired home owners, plus you two. middle aged adults with paychecks able to afford the expense of a home in Monaco.

you don’t question why he has so many trophies, and you’ll never have the time, but it doesn’t stop your morning coffee imagination at the dinning room table. you have the perfect view inside a part of his space.

yes, whoever created these two houses must’ve been complete creeps or family, because nobody ever has windows that are directly into another persons house. but you never questioned it, you just closed the blinds at night or whenever his light was on too early in the morning for you.

today was a morning he was dressed to the nines. a blazer, white dress shirt(typical fashion of his), and dress pants. he lays two ties out and you watch him decide which one to wear. you feel awfully embarrassed when his eyes catch yours, but he sends a slight wave, and you hold up a finger indicating which option was best.

you can’t hear it, but all you see is him laugh and it makes you wonder what it sounds like. is it husky? more from the belly? is it contagious?

you need sleep, these thoughts about your neighbor are certainly overpowering any senses that coffee can’t seem to help.

—

he’s gone most weekends. his vintage Mercedes sits in the driveway, top on in case of a rainstorm, but his lights in the house are off. he’s got endless amounts of packages piling up outside his doorstep that would have you eager to rip them open if they were yours.

a long day of grocery shopping and dinner at your parents in town took a lot out of you. you shove your key into the lock of your door, hearing the rumble of the infamous neighbors Mercedes speed around the cul de sac until he pulls into his driveway and cuts the engine.

your door is half open, you’re halfway in it, but it’s like you’re watching something out of a movie scene. the way he gets out of the car is like in slow motion. his rolled up white dress shirt sleeves have creases across the arms. his brief case sits on the top of his car as he slams the door shut behind him rudely awakening your little stare.

a blush forms to your cheeks as you quickly slam your door behind you once you’ve shoved yourself inside. your back rests against the door, heart beating against your chest it’s almost as loud as the knock that comes next.

you jolt away from the door, moving yourself onto your tippy toes you see him. he’s holding one of your bags of groceries you left at the door step, he’s got one hand clutching his brief case, the other gripping the plastic bag full of embarrassing items (ie: tampons and other toiletries).

if you could hate one person right now, it’s you. how could you let yourself get so immersed in him that you literally dropped what you were doing and stared like a little girl in a candy shop?

you swallow the little pride left in you and slowly open the door up a bit. you get a peek at the lines across his face, most likely due from stress, and the way his brown eyes find you. you can feel the thudding of your heart against its cavity.

“I believe you dropped these.” he extends the bag outward towards where you stand, you’re sandwiched in the little space you gave yourself. you extend your hand out, skin briefly touching before you pull away.

“I’m Toto, I don’t think we’ve properly met. and you are?”

his accent. it’s so unfamiliar to your ears. you never would’ve expected his voice to be as deep but light as it was. it was smooth like butter on toast to your ears, it made the hairs on your arm stand up, your back straighten.

“y/n.”

a sparkle shines in his eyes. it’s one you notice once you’ve said your name. he repeats it softly back to you in a question, like it’s not what he was expecting, and he likes it. he always pictured you with a unique name, or maybe one that was a bit basic, but yours fits you perfectly.

“well I better get going. it’s nice to meet you.” he waves you off before he slips into his own house and both of your doors slam in sync.

now that he had a name, there was no stopping your imagination.

—

mornings were the same. they always were.

freshly brewed coffee in front of you, as you watch Toto dance around his kitchen balance a smoothie, a laptop, and a muffin. the man was always busy once the sun shined through his blinds. you wonder if he ever truly gets sleep.

like usual, your mind shifts to him. does he drink coffee in the morning? how many of those white dress shirts does he own? what does his house smell like? does he make a good smoothie?

these questions, once again, couldn’t be drowned with a cup of caffeine, but when he glances over his shoulder and flashes you a wave, the questions silent themselves.

he’s handsome.

you knew this, your heart knew this, your mind knew this, and certainly your body knew this. the hum between your legs was never going to stop when he looked your way.

you lift your coffee cup into the air before taking a sip from the hot contents. it soothes your brains rambles down and puts the energy you need right back into you. the work day was just beginning, and Toto was just heading out the door.

what a shame, you wished he could’ve stayed. oh the things he missed when he’s gone.

—

the evenings are a bit lonely when the sun goes away and the stars crawl in, you watch the rest of Monaco get ready for lavish celebrations while you stick to a movie and a snack.

he’s just arrived home. you hear the rumble of his car in your quiet cul de sac. he kills the engine and before you know it there’s a knock at your front door. it’s rare, you never get visitors, unless for the elder neighbors begging to help you with your garden, but even then they knew to never knock and just help themselves. so this knock was awfully unusual.

unlocking the door to see Toto was a surprise. he stands there, brief case in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, with a goofy grin.

“I don’t really drink wine, did you want this?” he asks, extending the expensive bottle of red outward towards you. he’d noticed in your bag of toiletries the bottle of cheap red wine, and when he’d been gifted the rather expensive one from George for his birthday, he knew someone who might enjoy it more.

“you didn’t poison this, did you?” you take the bottle, and push open your door further to invite him inside.

“it was a gift from work, he would know better to not poison me.” he steps inside your house and allows you to close the door behind him. he gets a good look inside your place, the endless amount of candles, minimal paintings hung on the walls, and your infamous kitchen. the one he’s stolen many glances across at.

“and who is this he we should be blaming if we die?”

“George Russell.”

you chuckle at the name, “he sounds very posh.”

you quickly pull out two wine glasses while he begins to undo the cork; once opened, he pours the liquid into the glasses for the both of you.

“with the money he gets, darling he makes posh look silly.”

you feel the butterflies rumble around your stomach, a blush creep across your cheeks as you take the glass from his hands, skin once again touching for the briefest moment.

“and how much is he making exactly?” you ask leading him to your deck where two Adirondack chairs are placed looking out at the sky. you don’t tend to come out here often, as the chairs were a gift from a friend, but the stars were shining just bright enough to enjoy.

“six million euros.”

you spit out the wine in your mouth, luckily it landed back into the glass, but it wasn’t a very classy move to make. not around the man you’ve been crushing on since you’d moved in. this was the most he’d ever spoke to you, and at this rate, he might not again.

“he could buy Monaco.”

“I could buy Monaco.” he corrects you with a mischievous smile that makes your heart pick up, and your stomach do a back flip. he looks good like that.

“alright what are you mr. Forbes?”

he laughs. it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. it answers your own question, the laugh sounds like it comes from his heart and his belly. it’s a genuine emotion.

“well I have been on Forbes, but is money really a concern to you?”

you shake your head violently at the question. you lean closer to the edge of your seat, legs crossed to try and tune out the hum in between your thighs, “no, never.”

“but I must say, you have to make a lot to afford those vintage Mercedes Benz’s that you drive.” you add to your statement. watching him nod, he takes a look up at the stars, it gives you a chance to take in his side profile. the stress creases across his forehead, the smile lines around his mouth, the dimple in his cheek. every part of him is jaw dropping.

“you don’t come out here very often, why’s that?” he turns to you, it’s his turn to take in your beauty as you stare up into the stars. they were much brighter away from the city, you always liked that the most.

“I didn’t notice you watched me that closely.” you joke, a smile forming to your lips that reaches your eyes. he’s never seen you smile much, you’re usually grumpy in the morning or lost into your thoughts while drinking your morning coffee. he enjoys this much more than the toiletry run in where you both were a bit on the edge of anxiety.

“I’m not home very often. I try to get out when I can, and you should too. I grill, I know how much you enjoy looking at me.” he says, and hesitantly places a hand against yours. his palm is warm, but nothing like clammy, just the kind that heats up your skin in the middle of winter. the skin to skin contact ignites the flame in you to burn like a warning signal, one that he notices. this man did many things to your brain.

“I’ve never seen you in anything but this shirt.” you remove your hand from underneath his and reach over across your chair to the plastic buttons holding the dress shirt together.

your fingers carefully undo the second button, the top one had already been undone since he doesn’t like to wear it that neat anyway. you can feel his breath hitch, his heart beat is pounding against your knuckles that gently glide against his skin.

“do you wear this all the time?” you pull away, resting back against the chair and watch him fix himself.

“it’s work attire.” he finally breathes. you both can hear him exhale all the pent up emotions. he turns to you, fingers reaching towards your collarbone where the charm of your necklace sits. it’s his turn for payback.

“and who bought you this lovely charm?”

“my mother.” it comes out a bit snippy. his knuckles against your collarbone slip away and for a moment you curse yourself for being so hostile to such an inviting man. one you’ve wanted for so long to get to know.

“who taught you how to talk to your neighbors like that?”

“my father. he was an ass.”

he barks out a laugh taking the last sip of his wine. you don’t want this to be over, and you’re thankful it’s not when he offers to pour refills for you both.

you watch him walk inside your house leaving you alone with the beautiful stars of the sky and your tempting thoughts. having him this close wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t any good. you’d want him as much as he was making the efforts to show, and the buzz in between your legs was loud enough for him to hear. he wanted you too. but what would this do for your friendship? truthfully, nothing. Toto Wolff wasn’t a friend, just a neighbor who sometimes gets your mail instead of his. you could live looking across the window knowing he fucked you senseless.

what drama this cul de sac would have, and it seems they haven’t experienced this much since you two came around and played ding dong fuck every other night.

I guess you both took loving thy neighbor a little too seriously, but you’re sure Jesus wouldn’t mind the kind of love you were making.

tags: @oconso @xcicix @imsorare @weasleyswizardwheezes-blog @monzabee @lpab @frreyaa

want to be apart of my taglist? let me know here!

[ur-mousey]

Kiss Up, Bitch ~

- Class of '09 Nicole x Jecka -

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Imagine! Nicole prowling around the pool deck. Her back was on fire from the glare of the sun. People screeched around her like drowning pelicans. And beach balls spun in the air, taking shots at her temple.

She'd already dodged three.

And, she realized seven shots in that her brain didn't cast out the summer day noises, but amplified them.

Every soft whisper played on a loop -especially Ari's gay ass. She just wanted all of them to shut up. It's her shit luck that she found herself at Kylar's Poolside Extravaganza.

Ari sang I Kissed a Girl at a high-pitched chirp. She lounged on a pink sprinkle donut floaty, incapable of keeping herself upright without it.

Each word carried over the pool's lazy currents and under the blast of heavy rap music straight toward Nicole's pulsing head.

The taste of her cherry chapstick, I kissed a girl just to try it, I hope my boyfriend don't mind it.

Nicole's amounting anger might have been due to the fresh breakup, but, being tone-deaf should be a crime. Maybe it's true that gay girls can't sing.

Imagine! Nicole found irony in the last line. I hope my boyfriend don't mind it -It suited Ari. She was yet another weak-minded lesbian, now, off the streets due to Nicole's intervention. For all she cared, she did God's work.

But, Jecka saw it as immoral. Bullying should be reserved for all men prone to violence, not turning a *slur* bitch into being straight.

*she got censored*

If you're gonna backpedal on your sexuality, never claim it to begin with. You can't handle one toxic bitch, then maybe, you were never meant to handle a woman at all.

Ari will forever be dicked down. And in the middle of the night, after receiving minimal pleasure from her dozed-off boyfriend, she'll think, 'I miss that slutty whore Nicole who demeaned me but gave amazing head. I wonder if I called her up now, would she burn cigs out on my thighs and make me her toy. What a wild lesbian ride we could have.'

Imagine! Nicole shaking her head, she whispered, "What the fuck." To be frustrated over Ari came naturally and callously. She wondered as she tossed and turned in bed. Wondering where it stemmed from.

When she found the answer, she never wished to admit it aloud. Nicole found trouble making the first move herself.

And the alcohol buzzed a bright idea to the forefront of her mind. Could the opposite apply? Can she turn a straight-girl gay?

Time to fuck with Jecka. As a friend, not a lover.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Imagine! Jecka lying in the bed of a truck, snuffing her cig out on the bed of it. Her feet were lifted and parallel to the back of the seats. Her 'date' whisked away to tabletop drinking games.

It's not her's obvi -the truck. She drives a cute white mini buggy. Her steering wheel cover was made of pink tuffs that were always soft in her gripe.

Teenage boys seemed far off, yelling obscenities while daring each other to jump off the second-story balcony into the pool. Oh, how it filled the void of the cul-de-sac.

"How fucking white?" Jecka muttered to herself.

Did Kylar even invite black kids? There was Emily, Hunter, Braxton, Ari, Nicole... Yeah, everyone's white.

Imagine! Jecka nodding off while the sun fades in and out behind her closed lids. She's wearing a classic two-piece that's tied on both hips in the color sapphire blue. It wasn't a color she adorned often. The set complimented her pale fawnskin, and it brought out the pinks of her cheeks.

She should wear sapphire more often.

Jecka knew that she was stunning in pinks. She often wore millennial pink crop tees with baby blue low rises.

But never did she wear a deeper blue, the color of the ocean's depths, awaiting to drown her.

Imagine! Jecka, on the cusp of sleep, heard the call of her name. Far off at first, then beside her ear after multiple turns. A finger wrapped around her bouncy curls. Jecka stirred awake. One eye lifted to see a pair of sapphire blues. Oh, it was Nicole.

"Wakey, wakery~" Nicole purred over her. "I've been looking for you."

"Found me," Jecka hummed. She closed her eyes once more. "I don't think I wanna."

"No?" Nicole leaned closer to her best friend. She reached over Jecka to the floppy bow on her hip that kept her bottoms secured. "I could... wake you up some. Example, I could go down on you?"

Jecka squinted up, "No. What the fuck? Not interested. Let me return to sunbathing."

Imagine! Jecka waved Nicole's sexual harassment aside and settled back into a half-dreaming state. "Napping is Sunbathing to you?"

"Yeah, I get both done at once. I'm outside. Duuuuh. Wake me later if I start to get burned."

Nicole flopped onto her belly, she kicked her legs out from under her quicker than she could fathom. "Not happening, I think we should at least make out. Spice it up. This friendship is dull." Her nose brushed along Jecka's neck. She took a tentative inhale before her teeth took a steady hold that made the blonde yelp.

Her skin slotted perfectly in her jaw.

"What is wrong with you, Nicole?" The beach wave blonde squirmed her neck out of its entrapments. Jecka rolled onto her belly, face-to-face with the narcissist in question. "What needs to be spiced up is food, Nicole. If you're that horny to makeout with me, find Ari. I bet she'll loooove the attention."

Imagine! The brunette pouted at the thought. "I don't want her."

Jecka's nose turned up. "Then what? Sorry to break it to you. I'm not gay. Find Emily, she's obsessed with you. I'm kinda surprised that she never slept with a girl before so add her to the roster of virgins you've deflowered." And after the end of her little spiel, Nicole attacked.

And Jecka vaguely heard, "Kiss up, bitch."

Nicole's tongue was in her mouth, and Jecka squealed. It fit snuggly between the gap of her teeth. The tang of tequila was hot on Jecka's breath. Nicole's tongue flickered over hers, running over her teeth. A whine spilled between them. Who knew a girl's lips were this soft.

Jecka tried shoving Nicole aside to little avail. Maybe it was futile to resist sapphire eyes. Even when shut, they drowned Jecka's mind.

'Was she wearing cherry chapstick?' She thought, swimming with the waves that would surely cast her adrift.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Thank you for reading! Request rules are here! Follow my ig = lil.thoughts.xo!

[b4ts1e]

▀▄▀▄▀▄Prom▄▀▄▀▄▀(𝚐𝚗!𝙼𝙲)

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝙸𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚍:

𝚈𝚒 𝙻𝚒𝚗 (𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍)

𝚀𝚒𝚞/𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚗 𝙻𝚒𝚗

𝙳𝚘𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊/𝙾𝚖𝚒 𝙱𝚊𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚗 (𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍)

𝚃𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝙱𝚊𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚗

𝙾𝚙𝚊𝚕 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍

𝙼𝙲 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 (𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙾𝙻:𝙽&𝙵)

𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝:

𝙾𝚞𝚛 𝙻𝚒𝚏𝚎: 𝙽𝚘𝚠 & 𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚆𝚎𝚎𝚔 2024

𝙳𝚊𝚢 6 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝: 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖

(𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗)

The time had finally come, the senior prom for the cul-de-sac trio was in less than two hours...a strange mix of excitement and anxiety raditated off of each of them. Autumn in their vested three piece suit, colored in the standard dark charcoal gray and white- paired with a striking red tie while his hair remains fully down, only a small braided crown wrapping around to the back of their head was tied. Tamarack in a flowy cotton pink ball gown, her curly hair was down as well- her favorite bow holding together a braid crown similar to Qiu's.

While those two were practically ready, MC was in their room- looking between the options they had, their mom was kind enough to buy them options for both fem and masc presentation but now came the struggle of actually choosing between them. On one hand they had a black over coat suit, much like their genderfluid friend's charcoal one, but on the other hand they had a gorgeous dress that they'd picked out to match with their sparkly friend- the only real difference was the color being their favorite one. When a knock on the front door sounded, their panic only seemed to rise- indecision wracking their brain.

"MC! You're friends are here!" Opal called from the bottom of the stairs. "Okay! I'll be down in a bit!" they replied quickly, nipping at the skin on the sides of their fingers- gaze flipping between the two outfit options.

Opal guided the two young adults to the living room before heading upstairs to check out the hold up, entering the room carefully before turning witness to her child's mini anxiety attack over clothes options. "Hey sweetheart, what's wrong? Why aren't you dressed yet?" she asks softly, gently putting a hand on MC's upper back. "I can't choose!" they erupt quietly before crumpling to the floor slowly, curling into themself.

Their mom was quick to follow, pulling them into a gentle embrace- letting out soft shushing sounds to hopefully ground them better. Once they had calmed down a bit, she asked a question as soft as she could "What's got you so tied between the two hun?"

"Remember how I went shopping with both Aut and Tama? We all got matching outfits, but the suit matches more with Qiu and the dress with Tamarack and I don't want it to seem like I like one of them better than the other but it feels unavoidable! I like both options, but I just don't want to choose wrong!" MC rambles out quickly, a look of concern on their face.

Opal nods and stands up, looking between the two options carefully before helping her child stand up again. "I have an idea, put on the dress for me hun." MC listened hesitantly to their mother, slipping into the dress carefully- adjusting their already styled hair to keep it from getting messy. Their mom carefully picked up the suit's overcoat, and helped MC put it on over the dress. "Luckily black goes with just about anything." she says, wiping the front of the over coat down gently before quickly going into MC's closet and pulling out a black belt that looked relatively similar to the overcoat and wrapping it around their waist carefully. "That should pull it all together, what do you think?"

Looking into the mirror, Opal standing behind and to the side of them with a gentle smile. "This'll work, thank you mom." they say before turning and wrapping their arms around the older woman with a genuine smile, their mother readily encased them into her own hug in turn. "Okay, now- adjust to your perfectionist standards and come down so we can take pictures with enough time for you guys to go and eat before the dance."

MC nods and gets to work tweaking a few things while Opal goes downstairs, grabs her phone and sits down on the unoccupied couch- both Autumn and Tamarack having sat on the same couch while chatting quietly. They didn't seem to have minded the wait. After a few minutes, steps could be heard coming down the stairs slowly and everyone stood up and paid attention.

They desended the stairs carefully, in result- slowly revealing themself to their captive audience. Opal immediately took a photo of them once they were in full view and paused for a moment, pride swelling in her chest at her child.

Qiu and Tamarack smiled, the shorter of the two giving a small wave as the taller approached the stairs and offered them a hand down the steps as if they were royalty- Opal catches this on camera as well, waiting for the perfect times to snap them for the memory's sake.

<> A group photo, standing close together.

<> Individual pictures showing off their outfits.

<> Photos of the gift exchanges, everyone receiving two either corsages or boutonnieres- MC receiving one of both.

<> Silly pictures of them goofing off a bit before they were set to leave.

<> Another outside with the setting sun, standing in front of the car supposed to take them to dinner then event.

Opal looked fondly at the photos, quickly sending them to Yi and Dorothea for them to save before going back inside.

(𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗)

When the car approached the rented out venue, the trio couldn't help but notice the rather extravagent entrance. A photoshoot zone and a red carpet right outside- the school had really put effort and funding into the prom this year.

Once they pulled up the red carpet, a teacher dressed like a butler open the door for them with a polite bow. Once everyone was out of the car, it drove off and the person who opened the door motioned them to move towards the entrance and photoshoot area.

Getting to the photoshoot zone, they excitedly took part- MC handing the photographer their phone for the pictures. Posing like celebraties they took turns before going as a group for a few skit shots.

After it was all said and done, MC's phone was returned to them and the trio went inside- being greeted with loud music and a large crowd of classmates.

The event raged on throughout the night, Autumn getting prom king, unsuprisingly, and the class president getting queen. With the prom crowns given out and the miniature awards to reward those with the best grades and those with bright futures also being over- the party continues for a bit longer, until the euphoria started to dissipate into joyful exhaustion.

As everyone was heading out for the night, the event over and the students offically no longer students, a firework display went off right above the building- a final hurrah of the night.

Throughout the night, the trio grabbed photos of and with each other, the decorations, the food, the awards, and the fireworks before their ride pulled up to take them back home. The group agreeing to go home, change and meet up back at MC's place for their previously planned sleepover. Opal having an overnight shift left the house for the young adults to party with each other for just awhile longer- in their own, much quieter, way.

Movies, snacks, manipedis, pillow forts- it was like they were children again.

𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝐿𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝒩𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉.

𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝐿𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑒.

𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒-𝒷𝓎-𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒, 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝒩𝑜𝓌 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝐹𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇.

Qiu and Tama's outfits were inspired by an art I saw of them, I only added a few things like the braids, which you can find: HERE

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1,230

[scrumptious-delusion]

let’s get married

series masterlist

summary: an undercover mission is nothing new for you or bucky. however, using the cover of a newly-wed couple is.

pairing: bucky barnes x agent!female reader

warnings: swearing, humour, fluff 🥺, mention of: murder, injuries, knives, and blood.

length: 4.1k

a/n: third part in the little bird series. written for my 3k celebration, the prompt is bolded. don’t hold the accuracy of the russian against me, i just used google ✌.

You peek up at Bucky from the corner of your eye. 

His gaze is focused on Charlie as they deliver the mission briefing you’re too preoccupied to listen to.

This is the first time you’ve seen Bucky in six weeks.

The first time you’ve seen him since he sent you a whole basket full of flowers.

The first time you’ve seen him since realising you love him - that you’re in love with him.

No big deal.

As always, Bucky’s thick beard is neatly trimmed in the shape of his jawline, while his long hair is tied in a bun at the base of his neck.

Gazing lower, you admire how the short sleeve of Bucky’s shirt stretches around his muscled right bicep that you’re eye level with and fight back a longing sigh.

Bucky’s hot. You’ve appreciated that fact since the start of your partnership.

Of course you’ve dabbled in a fantasy or two in the privacy of your bedroom, long before your recent revelation. You’re only human. A human with needs and an imagination.

I get horny, okay?

In hindsight, you should have realised those harmless daydreams were the product of something bigger. Of something you were deliberately ignoring until it slapped you in the face, smelling like flowers.

You can’t help but wonder how Bucky - the man who takes everything in stride, would react if you just blurted out those three words to him right here, in the middle of a mission rundown.

I love you.

“What?”

The world comes to a screeching halt with cartoon sound effects as you’re wrenched out of your thoughts so violently someone might as well have poured freezing cold water over your head. 

Darting your gaze back to Bucky’s face you’re relieved to see his attention is still directed at Charlie, meaning you didn’t accidentally declare your love for him out loud.

But if Bucky wasn’t speaking to you, that means he was speaking to Charlie.

He’s never spoken to a handler before, and not only that, he sounded…

Dismayed.

“What?” You repeat urgently, needing to know what was said.

You’re witnessing world history. Nothing fazes Bucky. Your first mission together well and truly proved that.

What’s the number for the Guiness World Record people?

Charlie looks from Bucky to you with a raised eyebrow. “I said, you’ll be using the cover of a newly-wed couple.”

“What?”

[THAT AFTERNOON]

Number seven of Daisy Court sits at the very end of a cul-de-sac and is essentially a copy-and-paste of every other house on the street.

The two-storey house is grey with white trimming and a dark, wooden front door. The concrete driveway you currently stand on leads to a one-car garage, while a pathway veering off to the left takes you up to the front porch.

The lawn is a vivid green and if you were to pull out a ruler you’re certain every blade of grass would be the Homeowners Association approved length of two inches.

For the foreseeable future, this is home.

Turning your head to the right, you look up at your new husband.

“Welcome home, honey.”

The lame joke only earns you some side-eye.

Along with the new house and husband are the names, Elise and James Prescott. At first you didn’t think it fair that Bucky got to keep his name but you dropped the subject when he - unlike you, was forced to undergo a make-over.

Bucky’s beard exists only in memory now.

His hair has been shortened and styled to curl around his ears, thick and fluffy. Every time your gaze lands on it your fingers twitch with the urge to feel.

The short hair and clean-shaven face make Bucky seem younger and less over life. 

Well, when he’s not frowning at least.

“Hello neighbours!”

Oh boy.

You and Bucky share a look.

Spinning around, you showcase a megawatt smile. “Hi!”

A man in his early thirties jogs up to you both with a friendly grin. “My wife is gonna be so mad she missed your arrival,” He laughs “She baked lemon bars for the occasion.”

Sean Weaver.

You recognise him from the surveillance photos in your information packet. One of the mission’s two main targets.

“Oh, that’s so sweet of her.” You croon, holding out your hand. “I’m Elise and this is my husband, James.”

My husband, James.

Your heart pounds out a sporadic rhythm at those words.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Sean.”

For a married man, Sean’s eyes linger a little too long in all the wrong places as he shakes your hand.

When he accepts Bucky’s hand next his face pinches into a slight wince.

It’s at that moment a car pulls up along the curb and an over-excited woman exits from the driver’s seat.

“Don’t tell me I almost missed the first introduction!”

Betty Weaver.

The mission’s other main target.

“Hello, hello,” The redhead grins, rushing up to wrap you in a hug. “I’m Betty, it’s so nice to meet you!”

Sean laughs at his wife’s enthusiasm. “Pumpkin, this is Elise and her husband, James.”

Betty releases you from her death grip, only to target Bucky next. 

You can’t stop the laugh that shoots out of you when Bucky’s face momentarily displays his horror before falling unreadable once more as the smaller woman squeezes him.

Thankfully she steps back after only a moment, falling into her husband’s side.

“It’s been so long since we’ve had fresh faces around here.” Sean states.

Betty nods in agreement before asking “How long have you two been married?”

“A week.” You smile, wrapping your hands around Bucky’s closest bicep and pressing the side of your face into it.

This is how couples act, right?

A gasp, “Newly-weds, that’s so sweet!” A squeal, “Is this your first house?”

“It is.” You grin.

Leaning forward to poke Bucky’s chest, Betty orders “Don’t forget to carry her over the threshold, mister.”

“I’m sure he was planning on it before I interrupted.” Sean chuckles goodnaturedly, looking down at his wife. “How about we leave the newly-weds to it?”

Betty pouts, but nods. “We’ll get properly acquainted once you’ve settled in.” She promises.

“I look forward to it.” You beam back.

“Well, until then neighbours.” Sean nods, ushering Betty back to her car. 

You wave goodbye, one hand still around Bucky’s bicep as you allow him to lead you towards the house.

Three steps take you up onto the front porch and before you can even comment on Betty’s words, Bucky effortlessly sweeps you off your feet, cradling you in his arms bridal style. Instinctively, your arms loop around his neck, bringing your faces close together.

A squeal in the distance tells you the Weaver’s are still watching.

However, it’s hard to focus on anything when Bucky’s dark blue eyes are level with yours and only inches away. The back of his neck is warm against your forearm, and you can’t get over the feel of his bare skin on yours.

When Bucky speaks, his voice is low and rough. “Keys.”

Right.

Keeping your right arm around his neck, you dig the house keys out of your back jean pocket with your left hand. Bucky bends down when you get them free, allowing you to unlock the door and push it open.

He doesn’t straighten until he’s passed under the door frame and then he uses his foot to close the door behind him, blocking out the Weaver’s prying eyes.

Bucky lowers you to the floor slowly, waiting until you’re sure-footed before letting you go. 

A tense, unfamiliar air lingers between the two of you.

“Well,” You scratch at the back of your neck “I think that went well.”

Bucky hums, watching you.

You’ve never struggled to fill a silence before, but suddenly something that’s so natural for you seems so hard.

C’mon, think of the mission. There’s gotta be something you can -

“Betty seems so nice, it’s hard to believe she’s murdered like fifteen people.”

[THE NEXT MORNING]

You find Bucky standing on the porch, looking out at the quiet neighbourhood as the morning sun breaks over the horizon.

A frown is etched between his eyebrows as he glares at the road.

“What did the street ever do to you?” You mumble sleepily, holding out a cup of coffee. 

Bucky looks down at the drink, his eyes flicking to yours for a moment before he accepts the mug and stares at the road again.

“I hate cul-de-sacs, there’s only one way out and the people are kind of weird.” Bucky answers.

That has to be one of the longest sentences he’s ever spoken.

“Really? But everything about you screams suburbia.” You reply sarcastically.

Bucky’s mouth twitches.

“So…” Don’t ask, don’t ask. “I guess that means, you know,” Do not ask. “The whole wife and kids thing doesn’t appeal to you then.”

The mug pauses for a second on its journey to Bucky’s mouth before continuing. You watch as he takes a large sip and wonder if he’s going to respond.

Suddenly his dark blue eyes are piercing into you. “Do I have to like cul-de-sacs to want that?”

Why am I flushing?

“No, of course -”

“Morning neighbours!”

You both turn to see Betty jogging in place near your letterbox, waving eagerly.

“Morning!” You smile, waving back.

Grinning, Betty continues on her run. 

Bucky twists around and heads back inside, sighing “I gotta get ready for work.”

Right.

James Prescott is an accountant at a local firm where he works five days a week from eight in the morning until five in the afternoon, like a good, upstanding American citizen.

You try not to laugh too much at the image of Bucky in a small office, surrounded by chatty co-workers and demanding customers. 

As funny as it is, you can’t help but feel a little bad, having struck the better end of the deal once again.

Elise Prescott is an aspiring author and with her husband’s steady income, a stay at home wife.

Meaning, pretty much all of the mission’s reconnaissance falls solely on you.

Biting your lip, you try and fail to hold back your smile. 

“Goodbye honey.”

With his back to the street and any spying neighbours, Bucky doesn’t hide his glare. “маленькая птица,” He warns quietly.

“Have the best day at work.” You continue, speaking louder than you normally would because you’re positive people are listening in.

Unable to resist, you raise your right hand and lightly tap his cheek. “Go make those numbers your bitch.”

Closing his eyes, Bucky inhales very, very deeply.

Your giggle has his eyes popping back open.

Okay, I’ve tormented the poor man enough.

Rocking up on your toes, you press a kiss to the clean shaven cheek you just tapped. “Bye.” You say more earnestly as you take a step away from him and the car. 

Bucky studies you for a moment before climbing into the car and driving away. You wave until his car has disappeared down the street.

For just a second, the whole charade almost feels real.

[THREE DAYS LATER]

People always underestimate how boring and tedious undercover missions can be. 

Since Bucky isn’t home for nine hours each weekday, you spend your days alone, re-reading the same information about your targets while staking them out.

You’ve introduced yourself to the neighbours that border you - the Weaver’s and the Newman’s, and they’ve introduced you to their neighbours and so forth.

Each day you take two walks around Daisy Court. The first in the morning after you see Bucky off to work and the second in the evening, just before Bucky returns home.

It’s a good way to make observations, start conversations, and familiarise yourself with everyone’s routines - particularly the Weaver’s.

Sean works from home, which means you’ve had no chance to snoop, but Betty has been your saving grace. Though she works in the city, she’s home by four every afternoon and she always joins you on your evening walks. It’s easy to pull snippets of useful information from her and today she provides you with the best news yet.

“After weeks of nagging him, he’s finally booked a doctor’s appointment.” 

“Good!” You exclaim, “It’s always better to be safe than sorry.”

“Exactly!” Betty nods. “I’ll let you know what the doctor says tomorrow afternoon, his appointment is at quarter to two.”

No one will be home.

The two of you reach your driveway just as Bucky pulls in.

Glancing down at her watch, Betty sighs “I wish Sean was as punctual as your man.”

You don’t need to look at the time to know it’s exactly 5:15.

The driver’s door opens and Bucky’s long legs swing out before the rest of his towering body unfolds from the car. 

Betty nudges you forward with a grin like she does every afternoon and you give her an eye-roll over your shoulder but approach your husband nonetheless.

“Hi honey.”

You know there’s a chance Bucky might kill you once this mission is over for all you’ve put him through while the neighbours are watching, but you’re having way too much fun to consider stopping. 

“How was work?”

Bucky’s left eye twitches at your question as he shuts the car door and that makes you feel bad.

Sitting in a cubicle and being surrounded by people is going as well as one would imagine for him.

Leaning up on your toes, you press your now usual kiss to his cheek.

Bucky’s shoulder’s drop just slightly. “It was fine, sweetheart.” He mumbles, placing a hand on your lower back.

Sweetheart?

Nodding at Betty, Bucky steers the two of you up to the house.

You’re too dazed to turn around and wave goodbye.

[THE NEXT AFTERNOON]

Peering out one of the second floor windows, you watch as Sean’s car disappears down the street. You’ve been on pins and needles all day waiting for him to leave for his appointment. 

Time to shine.

Rushing to your backyard, you use a strategically placed garden statue to boost yourself over the fence and into the Weaver’s backyard.

Using a lock pick to open their back door, you enter cautiously. 

Once you’re certain there’s no alarms for you to trip, you begin scouring the house. The layout is identical to your own and when you eventually wind up in the office upstairs it’s like striking gold.

You take pictures of every document outlining transactions, shippings, and other incriminating information. Every photo is automatically uploaded to a secure server. 

Just as you’re flicking through a notepad for any useful scribbles, you hear the front door shut.

Fuck.

Looking down at your watch, the numbers 2:07 glare back at you.

Seriously?

Of course Sean Weaver would have the world’s quickest doctor’s appointment.

Alright, think.

The office is probably one of the first places Sean will go, so you can’t risk slipping out now in the hopes of getting around him to head for the back door. Turning to the window behind you, you push it open and analyse the drop.

Nope.

However, the trim that goes around the house exterior just below the window is thick enough for you to stand on with the tips of your toes - it’s a risk though.

The sound of Sean’s footsteps on the stairs makes the decision easy.

Straddling the windowsill, you dangle your right leg out and lower it until your foot makes contact with the trim. Gripping the house exterior with your right hand and the window frame with your left, you swing the rest of your body out, placing your left foot beside your right on the trim.

Using your left hand, you pull the window close.

Okay.

Your whole body shakes with the effort of holding yourself on the small ledge. Your hands are sweating and there’s no real purchase on the house wall, just the small grooves in the panelling that you grip at with your fingertips.

It shouldn’t surprise you that you slip.

Somehow you keep the scream trapped in your throat as you fall.

Miraculously, you manage to grab the trimming you had been standing on, effectively halting your descent. However, the sudden stop jars your arms and causes your body to swing into the house.

You knew there was no real chance of you hanging there long with your weakened arms, but now your drop to the ground isn’t as great - but fuck does it hurt.

It’s your knees that absorb the impact of the fall before you land on your left side with a thump. If it had been grass beneath you it wouldn’t have been so bad. Of course, It’s just your luck that you’ve fallen into a garden bed of pebbles, your forehead connecting with the sharp edge of one.

With no time to waste, you crawl as fast as you can to the fence.

There’s no advantage of a boost this time around, so you jump as high as you can, grasping at the top of the fence with both hands. Using all of your remaining strength, you heave yourself up and over.

You drop unceremoniously on the other side, having no energy to slowly lower yourself to the ground.

This particular fall doesn’t hurt as much, the grass making for a much softer landing.

In the safety of your backyard, you lay unmoving on your side, trying to catch your breath as your body throbs all over. 

That was close. 

Too close.

You tell yourself you’ll get up on the count of three and when you miss that cue, you count to three again, then again, then again -

Bucky will be home in three hours.

Waiting for him sounds like a much better plan.

“маленькая птица.” 

The voice is unmistakable, making you frown.

Holy shit, that was a fast three hours.

“маленькая птица.” The edge of panic is clear in Bucky’s tone as you hear him drop to the ground beside you before rolling you onto your back.

“Hi honey.”

Bucky releases a rough exhale you think might have been a laugh if he wasn’t so concerned. 

“You’re bleeding, what happened?” His words are sharp, demanding an answer. 

Just as your mouth opens to give one, Bucky’s lifting you into his arms for the second time this week.

God, I could get used to this.

“маленькая птица.”

Oh right.

“Sean came home earlier than I expected.”

Bucky’s grip tightens around you as you recount your less than stellar escape.

“How come you’re home early?” You ask after you’ve finished.

Instead of answering you, Bucky lowers you onto the bed you’ve been sharing and then disappears into the bathroom.

Groaning, you sit yourself up on the edge of the mattress. “I got some really good intel.” You call out to him.

Bucky re-emerges with a handful of first aid supplies that he places next to you on the bed.

Crouching between your legs, he pulls a knife out of -

Where did he just pull that out of?

Also, “What are you -”

“Stay still.”

Before he’s even finished speaking, Bucky’s slicing his knife up the right leg of your jeans, from ankle to thigh. 

He does the same to the left leg of your jeans, displaying your knees for his perusal. They’re red and already starting to bruise, but there’s no blood.

Ignoring the tingle his slashing sent up your spine, you say “You know, you could’ve just asked me to take them off.”

You’re starting to wonder how hard you hit your head and if you’re actually speaking as Bucky once again doesn’t respond, instead turning his attention to your arms. 

Bucky wraps a hand around each of your wrists, raising them above your head to scrutinise your forearms and hands. They’re scratched up real good and bleeding lightly.

The next ten or so minutes pass by quietly as Bucky cleans your scratches with careful movements.

He leaves the cut on your forehead last. 

Bucky’s metal hand cups your right cheek, the cold sensation an odd contradiction to the seemingly normal looking human hand you can see, courtesy of a cloaking device from Stark Industries for undercover missions like this one.

He cleans the cut above your left eyebrow as gently as he can but the pressure still causes you to wince.

Dark blue eyes cut to yours for a moment before focusing back on your injury.

You’re thankful for how lethargic your intense escape has made you, because if you were in an alert state right now you know your heart would be beating furiously at Bucky’s contact and close proximity.

Something he would’ve heard clear as day.

In fact, you’re feeling so lethargic your eyelids are beginning to droop.

“Hey,” Bucky murmurs “You with me?”

You hum, “Just tired.”

His metal thumb brushes over your cheek as he keeps working on your cut. “Gonna have to stay awake for a while, until I know you’re okay.”

Eyes still closed, you huff.

“I’ll make you pasta for dinner.”

Your eyes shoot open at that and Bucky’s mouth tilts up in reaction.

“With garlic bread?” You ask hopefully.

Bucky’s nod makes you beam.

With a full stomach and Bucky’s permission to finally sleep, you crawl under the soft, white sheets of the king sized bed.

Curling onto your side facing Bucky, your eyes fall shut instantly, tiredness washing over you.

Reaching up, you gingerly touch the bandage Bucky placed over the cut on your forehead and your heart warms as you recall how he tended to you this afternoon.

“I never thanked you for the flowers.” You whisper suddenly into the darkness.

Despite calling Bucky not even an hour after you received them, you never said the words “thank you”. It had been the sole purpose of your call, but for some reason you couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t acknowledge what he’d done.

Acknowledging the flowers scared you, because it also felt like acknowledging your love for him - to him.

“You didn’t need to.” Is his simple reply.

“I did,” You disagree “They were beautiful Bucky, I… No one’s ever given me flowers before.”

The admission feels intimate, and you suppose it is. If you weren’t in such a drowsy state you wouldn’t be saying any of this.

When Bucky doesn’t respond after a couple of minutes you stop fighting the urge to sleep.

“Я куплю тебе столько цветов, сколько ты захочешь, маленькая птица.”

Already drifting off, you mumble “English.”

There’s a short pause.

“I’ll buy you as many flowers as you want, little bird.”

You fall soundly asleep at that moment, the confession heard only in your dreams.

[THE NEXT MORNING]

Pulling out a thick wad of junk mail from the letterbox, you close and lock the small hatch. 

“Morning neighbour.”

Forcing a smile, you turn to face Sean as he approaches. He’s shirtless, wearing only long pyjama pants.

Meh. Seen better.

“Hey Sean.”

Coming to a stop in front of you, he leans against your letterbox. “Any plans for the weekend?”

“Um,” You make a thoughtful expression “I’m not sure, I haven’t asked James yet.”

Grinning, Sean states “Being newly-weds, I think his plan would be obvious.” Leaning closer to point at the bandage on your forehead, he winks “Though it looks like maybe you’re getting a little too wild.”

Jesus.

You can’t decide whether to knee him in the balls or punch him in the nose, which sums up almost every interaction you’ve had with Sean.

The guy is a serious creep, something his file failed to mention.

You’re thinking of a response when a large hand slides over your right hip, settling on your stomach and pressing you back into a hard body.

Oh.

“Morning Sean.” There’s nothing friendly in Bucky’s tone.

Without waiting for a response, Bucky’s other hand weaves into your hair and tilts your head back until your eyes lock with his.

“I thought I told you to stay in bed.” He husks.

You’re certain your eyes bulge out of your head. 

It’s a good thing Bucky doesn’t expect a reply because there is not a single thought in your head. Just that sentence in that tone repeating over and over.

Fantasy fuel.

“Back inside.”

Yessiree.

Giving Sean a brief nod, Bucky takes you back to the house.

Stepping onto the porch, you’re still trying to remember your name when Bucky grunts beside you, gazing over his shoulder.

The arm around your waist tightens and the next thing you know, Bucky’s pulling you into his chest and kissing you.

Bucky’s mouth muffles your noise of surprise as his soft lips press against yours, absolutely bewitching you.

It’s the greatest kiss of your life and it only lasts five seconds.

Pulling back, Bucky’s dark blue eyes dart between yours, his pupils blown wide.

You can’t tell if it’s you or him who lunges forward to meet in another kiss. 

This kiss isn’t gentle, rather it’s bruising and greedy. Your hands find purchase in Bucky’s hair, the junk mail forgotten on the ground as you’re walked backwards into the house, Bucky kicking the door shut behind him.

[t-annhauser]

Doppia origine etimologica dell'organo genitale maschile, il dualismo fallo/pene.

Fallo "dal greco φαλλός-phallós, da connettersi alla radice del sanscrito phalati (= germogliare, fruttificare) o alla radice della lingua protoindoeuropea bʰel-phal (= gonfiare, gonfiarsi)." Ottimo: riuscissero a infilarci anche che spruzza, abbiamo fatto tredici. Pene è latino per coda (penis), ma anche delle cose che pendono (pendŭlus). Cazzo è lombardo: "cazz e cuccé [mestoli e cucchiai] - quel primo in cul ti stia!" (sonetto di Luigi Pulci). Dal latino cattia, mestolo, e forse dal greco antico kyáthion, "mestolino". In uso anche da Leopardi: «Non mi dir più che m'abbia cura, perché son guarito e sano come un pesce in grazia dell'aver fatto a modo mio, cioè non aver usato un cazzo di medicamenti.» (Giacomo Leopardi, Lettere al fratello Carlo, Roma - 5 febbraio 1823).

Minchia, "dal latino mencla, forma volgare di mentula, che indica il pene. In latino, la radice men indica una sporgenza, il motivo di parole come mento e monte."

Uccello, "Il pene è chiamato anche 'uccello' poiché in stato di flaccidità sormonta due 'uova' come nella posa della cova" (fonte incerta).

Pistola, "dal fr. pistole che, attrav. il ted. Pistole, è forse dal cèco pištal «canna»". Pisello, per via del baccello, vedi anche fava. ecc. ecc.

[abr]

L'attacco al patriarcato nella società meno patriarcale di tutti i tempi a livelli fin imbarazzanti (cfr. gabinetti, spettacoli, pubblicità, cul-turame etc.), usa come arma contundente la GENERALIZZAZIONE STRUMENTALE di un fattaccio molto brutto.

Fattaccio che DEVE MOBILITARCI TUTTI; banalmente invece, per chi ancora creda nelle responsabilità individuali e familiari: ah se solo papi&frati della povera vittima innocente fossero stati patriarcali davvero.

Se solo le avessero proibito di frequentare quel problematico e/o lo avessero minacciato di mettergli le mani sul muso (a lui non a lei: la lingua è precisa, l'ignoranza no, per cui meglio precisare) ; beh lei sarebbe salva, se solo fossero stati sufficientemente PATRIARCALI prima invece di chiagnoni poi (prendersela con l'avv. difensore per aver difeso un reo confesso! Ma dove siamo retrocessi?).

E accusare tutti, la colpa è dellomobianko, mettiti il rossetto, solididarizza. Con Giulia tutta la vita poveretta, con voi strumentali no. Fankala, la mia civiltà crede nelle responsabilità INDIVIDUALI, collettivisti rivolgersi ai vostri amici del maghreb.

La brutta notizia per le checche isteriche e i perdenti sinistri è che tutto questo sta provocando un fenomeno, fateci caso se parlate con la gente invece che star sui social: la maggioranza silenziosa per definizione tace ma sta accumulando consapevolezza e sta crescendo.

Chiedimi ancora ti prego se domani in ufficio metterò il segno del rossetto.

[teabeexo]

𝚃𝚎𝚊'𝚜 𝚂𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜: 𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚊

☘︎ ↳ ❝ I had a dream that the sun in the sky

Was feelin' so lonely, he started to cry

The rain on our window kept us inside

All of the morning, and into the night... ❞

(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

❝ Alone in my dream room, I want to love you... ❞ - "Man on the Moon" By Zella Day

𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚊 𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝙻𝚒𝚗𝚠𝚘𝚘𝚍

☘︎ The Basics ☘︎

Age(s): Step 1 - 10, Step 2 - 14, Step 3 - 18, Step 4 - 22

Birthday: December 17

Gender: Female (she/her)

Nationality: French

Height: 5'4"

Significant Other: Dante Rhodes (belonging to @captian-insecure)

Role: Side character in my OL:NF universe.

☘︎ Lore (past) ☘︎

Sonia Linwood was born in Nice, France on December 17th to her parents Baptiste and Sabine Linwood. She has four elder brothers: Jude, Beau, Raoul, and Quincy. She grew up primarily speaking French among her family and peers, but would catch some English from the occasional tourist in her mother's bakery. She spent most of her early childhood snoozing in the warmth of a patterned hammock or listening to her brothers' prattle about their school adventures.

This monotonous comfort would change whenever her family, alongside her extended relatives (including her aunts, cousins, and grandparents), moved to Oregon. Namely, the beloved Golden Grove. However, unlike her cousins Mina and Maël, she didn't live in a small cul-de-sac. Her house ended up on a hill about ten minutes away from them. Like all the houses in the town, her abode was hugged by blushing leaves and whispering briars.

She completed fifth grade at the same school as her cousins but wasn't in Mrs. Murray's class -- not that it made much of a difference to her. After the move, Sonia and her cousins drifted slightly. They lived farther apart now, had different classes, and new social groups. Sonia could already see how close the two were with their new friends. She wasn't going to try to wedge herself between that.

Instead, she made new friends, too. Despite lacking some significant English vocabulary, Sonia was very easy to talk to. She attracted friends as easily as she deflected them. Her mother liked to call Sonia a social butterfly. But she preferred the term 'a social paper bag'. Butterflies choose where they fly, purposefully picking the most beautiful of flowers. They select their meals with careful consideration. But that was not Sonia. She went where she was beckoned, by whatever beckoned her. She followed the current of socialization like a paper bag that flies away in the ripples of the wind. Sometimes they got stuck in nooks and crannies, but they usually found their ways out. That was Sonia.

She didn't really develop a consistent social group until she was fourteen, whenever she and Mina reconnected. Through Mina, she met Tamarack -- whom she had only previously known as Mina's good friend. Sonia also established strong bonds with Mina's other friends: Diana, Maxine, and Rex.

Though, at times it was hard to really say they were her 'friend group'. Sonia still sat and chatted with whoever she pleased, though most often she chose them. The paper bag couldn't be tied down. Not yet.

Whenever she was roughly fifteen, Sonia was officially diagnosed with Narcolepsy. From that point, she started taking the necessary measures to make sure it didn't impede her daily life too much. She doesn't often bring it up but is open about the diagnosis if asked.

During her later teenage years, Sonia began learning how to embrace her own style, and opened herself up to the world of romance. During her adolescent years, the concept hadn't interested her much, despite a handful of individuals expressing their interest in her. She'd seen the emotional turmoil of those around her. She wasn't keen on replicating it for herself.

She dated around a bit, but nothing ever stuck. Nothing seemed to click. Flings were boring while they lasted, and though the physical intimacy was moderately satisfying, she didn't feel as though anyone was truly seeing her.

Not until she met Dante, anyhow. They'd briefly glimpsed each other in passing before, but nothing was pursued until a link-up between mutual friends. The relationship moved faster than anything Sonia had experienced before -- much to her delight. She was certainly enraptured by his love of music, but it was his demeanor and empathy that ultimately stole her heart.

'Spiny on the outside, mushy on the inside'. That's how she first described him to her brothers and parents.

And upon meeting him, they didn't need much more convincing.

☘︎ Lore (present/ongoing) ☘︎

Following the solidification of their relationship, the two got a small apartment together -- where they live in present. Dante is still pursuing his music, waiting in anticipation for his girlfriend to come home from another of her late-night shifts at the hospital she does part-time work for. Time together is sporadic, but they treasure what they do have of it.

Sonia has been affectionately dubbed 'Sleepy' by Dante, which she wholeheartedly lives up to by dozing off whenever they're even slightly comfortable.

Her social presence narrows as well, as she become more devoted to certain friendships rather than floating between cliques. She maintains strong contact with her cousins, often trying to arrange times to meet up. Even with Vérène, who lives all the way in California, is among her closest confidants. She doesn't see Rex, Diana, or Maxine, as often -- but chats over phone aren't uncommon.

On her days alone, Sonia likes to use watercolor sometimes, often depicting the fields of landscape of France or a saturated scene from one of her dreams. She has also found herself collecting quite the abundance of unique, noisy windchimes to decorate her porch with (much to Dante's chagrin). But of course, the most common usage of her time is simply curling up on a sunlit armchair and sleeping the minutes away.

As she always has, Sonia takes life one thing at time. But now that she's an adult, things are a bit different. For once, being the paper bag stuck in a nook for a while doesn't seem so bad.

☘︎ Relationships ☘︎

Parents: Baptiste and Sabine Linwood

Siblings: Jude (M), Beau (M), Raoul (M), and Quincy (M)

Aunts: Opal and Sophie

Cousins: Vérène (F; child of Sophie), Mina (F; child of Opal), and Maël (M; child of Opal).

S/O: Dante Rhodes

Notable Friends: Tamarack Baumann, Rex (my OC), Diana (my OC), and Maxine (my OC), Dex and Christin (OCs of a friend, neither of them are mentioned above)

(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

𝙰𝚛𝚝 𝙲𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎

As you may have deduced, this is Sonia and Dante together!

Sonia headshot art. <33 (both art pieces were done by me)

☘︎ Epilogue (Artist/Author's notes) ☘︎

Hello, everyone! If you've gotten this far, thank you for reading! I hope that this was relatively satisfactory in answering any questions you had regarding Sonia. As always, if there's anything that I left unanswered, feel free to ask!

If I remember correctly, Sonia was first conceptualized in February of this year, in which I was actually building on a pre-existing character. She first only existed to be a counterpart to Dante, but I quickly got extremely attached to her design and she kept popping up over and over in my sketchbook. Ultimately, I made the choice to make Vérène and Sonia related -- which is what generally solidified her as an important character. Of course, that also branched out to include being related to Mina and Maël, to whom she lives more closely to and can interact more directly with.

Sonia herself is very much one of my comfort characters. Her design is extremely fun for me to draw and replicate. I also enjoy playing around with her because she's very flexible to fit in a multitude of scenarios.

As always, I encourage questions. I recognize that the format of this post doesn't really touch on her personality itself very much, so if you all would find a separate post about that interesting, I'll consider making something about that too.

𝙴𝚡𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝙻𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜

Spotify playlist: coming soon! (wip)

Moodboard: coming soon! (as soon as I figure out how to make one)

Pinterest Board: coming soon! (wip)

[singinthegardns]

E stato bello stare insieme. E stato bello viverti. E forse è per questo che ha fatto così male. C'è stato questo strappo netto, dall'oggi al domani, e tutto è andato a quel paese. Per un po' ho creduto davvero di non avere più un cuore nel petto. A volte una fine ti rende apatico. Non provi nulla. E i giorni passano tutti uguali. Poi arriva il sereno, la tempesta e lontana, non sai nemmeno tu come hai fatto a uscirne. Capisci che non si puo stare male per qualcosa a cul non hai mal dato un nome. Ma sai come va. Hai questa foto, che ogni tanto riguardi, e ti rendi conto che una mancanza è rimasta, sottile come un filo. Un piccolo vuoto, ecco. Le persone che se ne vanno, si portano sempre via qualcosa. Ma alla fine tu cresci intorno a quel vuoto. Ti fai grande, forte, e lo rendi minuscolo.

[alatismeni-theitsa]

I have some questions abt hellenic polytheism and how its practiced. I myself have been practicing it for a while, but something I noticed while researching about it is a distinct lack of actual greek people in online social media spaces. It was first brought to my attention after seeing a reddit post and youtube video explaining how using “hellenismos” is considered cultural appropriation. After that, Ive noticed how the main sources Ive used about hellenic polytheism isnt really from the people whos culture were trying to practice. AKA non greeks.

I would like to know your explanations on the basics of hellenic polytheism like altars/shrines, khernips, prayers, devotees, tarot/oracle cards, pendulums, kharis, and offerings. There might be some knowledge that I got wrong and need to change, like maybe the way I give offerings needs fixing and I need to give more perishable offerings like food than handmade crafts like art for apollo. And maybe theres a spicic way to do it and not just place it on the altar. Other than websites like hellenicfaith.com, r/hellenism is usually my main source with a grain of salt because of the strange lack of greeks in discussions, and although my friend who is also practicing hellenic polytheism gives me a lot of advice, their main sources are tiktok and. Well, I dont think I need to explain why thats a bad source. (Their main justification is “of course tiktok isnt that serious” and “it comes from the pagans themselves”)

Also, Im also curious on your thoughts about people who practice in secret.

I hope this isnt too long, I just wanna make sure Im using a better source than reddit because, well, its reddit. Not the most reliable source.

Hello! If you don't mind I will also address two more questions I got on the matter, since I feel they are related to yours. They are the following:

Hello all! You did very well to seek Greek sources because you are essentially dealing with a foreign culture and it's not right to assume it looks just like your local one. I will guide you as much as I can but I am very open to being corrected by knowledgeable Greeks and xenoi alike because I am not an infallible scholar. As always, my posts are open to additions in case I missed something.

Let me start by saying I believe it's important to focus on the living Greeks as well, in parallel to your studies of ancient religious texts. Not only were our ancient people diverse with various opinions but... they are also dead and cannot speak anymore. So, it's the alive Greeks who now handle and pass down the culture. If something gives the ick to modern Greeks, it probably goes against what the culture considers appropriate or strange.

Greeks will get "the ick" even if they are not well-read on ancient Greek customs, because the Greek culture largely holds its philosophy when it comes to worship. Disclaimer: This is not an unbroken rule, as some of our cultural elements have shifted or changed, as it happens to all cultures around the globe, and also because a Greek does not know everything. But it's good to keep that general statement in mind.

An example of a practice not seen favorably by Greeks nowadays is some Western women practitioners covering their heads because of Hellenic Polytheism. The ancient faith may demand it but the veil was forced a lot on Greek women and collectively we believe it doesn't make any sense to wear it, even in scenarios of faith tied to our culture. Now, that doesn't mean that it's any of our business if a Hellenic Polytheist wants to veil but it'd be good for this person to have knowledge of the history and rights of Greek women, and really evaluate why they want to veil beyond "the ancients did it", since Greek culture is largely disagreeable to that practice now. Find a larger discussion on veiling here.

Also please capitalize the first letter of Apollo's name because this shows proper respect ;)

Let's dive into specifics a little bit. Our culture was and is practical and anthropocentric. It takes into account reality and environment, as well as human nature.

For the anthropocentric aspect: Yes, there are general guidelines because we are talking about a tradition here but no one will take your head if you do it a bit differently. As for the practical aspect: if you give non-perishable items to the gods by putting them on their altar, in 10 years you won't have a space in your house to stand. If they are non-perishable you have no reason to remove them. Because if you remove them is like taking back offerings that were meant for the deity.

The offerings of Greeks in Polytheism and Christianity included perishable items such as food, candles/oil lamps, flowers, incense, libations, etc. And since they go bad you have a reason to remove them. But you also don't want any waste on the streets or in your house. Even the sacrificed animals were meant to be eaten, and the Greek communities believed that the smell of roasted meat made the gods rejoice. In some cases, offerings that were left outside were meant to be consumed by the homeless and travelers. Everything has a purpose and a reason within that specific community. (Flowers not so much, they are just ornamental)

It's not that you cannot or should not offer non-perishable items to the gods. I'm sure a few don't hurt anyone. Just keep in mind that if the offering is a non-perishable item it is/was usually offered to the temple, so the priests can sustain themselves and continue doing their religious service on behalf of the community. We are talking about coins, clothing, jugs, animals, or whatever else.

Continuing on the matter of offerings. A small rant on how clueless some people seem to be about offerings. It would be weird to knit a winter scarf for a god and then wear it yourself because that's not how dedication/devotion works in the Greek context. Also, leaving that winter scarf on the altar doesn't make sense either because it's just… impractical in the Greek sense. You are wasting a scarf, to put it plainly. But if you make something for one deity then give it to the deity, don't wear it yourself.

I'll tackle a few more specifics now. I think you already know what they mean so I will give my opinion on them rather than explaining them. I think my opinion is shared by many Greeks.

hellenismos -> I am not sure if it's appropriation but it's surely inaccurate. Here is why, for those who wonder, with some suggestions on how to call yourself. (hint: Hellenic Polytheist is fine)

on how to be respectful and accurate: I always recommend reading as many ancient Greek texts as possible the view of the gods directly from the ancient worshipers themselves. You can read whatever texts interest you, including plays. Plays are my favourite source, to be honest. Understand on your own what the text says. The Hymn to Demeter is focused on the pain of a mother, which is pretty obvious, you are under no obligation to hear Kate the TikToker who insists on something different. You don't have to hear YouTubers who tell you Zeus is an asshole when ancient texts show us the opposite, and give a good context on why he does what he does.

altars/shrines -> The altars I've seen are usually fine, so I think western polytheists have this down. The ancient ones would be more homogenous but in our era the religion is unorganized so it's up to the individual to create an altar. Greeks still have altars in their homes as a continuation of our polytheist practices and they also have some variation. Generally, all good here.

khernips -> χέρνιψ literally translates to "washer of hands". It's a Greek practice to have clean hands before touching any sacred objects, either in Dodekatheism or in Christianity. We do not always follow it but it's important. Our old custom is also to wash hands, face, and feet before entering our Christian temples (that's why there are κρήνες outside many of them) but that's not practiced anymore because our hygiene is overall better and we already visit the temple while clean.

The cleansing part will feel natural for most Greeks and not unfit for the whole procedure. You can also cleanse items with water if the purification ritual says so. Don't lose sleep over it. Remember practicality. Khernips is just water with which you wash your hands and you can do it before a meal, like we do today. It is meant to keep you clean but doesn't bear any spiritual force - it's not like the holy water of Christians which is imbued with divine power. It's just water included in a practice that helps the religious person get ready for spiritual time.

Also! Khernips doesn't mean that you wash the whole body! It's second part, νήβω / nivo = rub is connected to cleaning body parts. For the cleanliness of the whole body we used/use "λούω / λούζω". Fun fact, on of the greatest christian temples Hagia Sofia, had a reminder outside the gate with the same verb, and it was an anagram. "ΝΙΨΟΝ ΑΝΟΜΗΜΑΤΑ ΜΗ ΜΟΝΑΝ ΟΨΙΝ", meaning "wash your sins, too, not just your face". This anagram is found in other Christian sites, as well.

prayers -> Any prayer is good. There are only a few ways a prayer can go "wrong", since there's not a subscription for that. For example a prayer has to usually praise the magnanimity of the deity, even if you are just doing it to ask something, but words from the heart are also fine. Zeus won't smite you if you include him in a phrase without praising him first.

devotees -> Afaik this was a rare phenomenon in antiquity and it's only nowadays that Westerners decided that everyone is a devotee, which looks weird to Greeks because being a devotee doesn't work exactly like Westerners do it. You don't get to pick one god, talk 99% of the time about that god, or worship just them and not recognize the whole pantheon, or just give little attention to them.

Ancient Greek towns and people had gods they were closer to, for sure, but from what I know they didn't have the same concept as modern foreign worshipers today. They were not "αφιερωμένοι"/devoted, unless they devoted their life to a deity by serving in their temple. The devoted/devotees were not everyday people.

The everyday people felt closer to some gods in the way someone can have a saint or a prophet that they align themselves with, that they feel like they can see themselves on them, or that these gods see them, or that they are related to their struggles, or have given them some sort of protection. A cultivator of vineyards will probably feel closer to Dionysus, while a fisherman to Poseidon, and a warrior to Ares. It's the same for Christian Greeks, since each of the saints has one domain and we call on them depending on our needs.

I mean, it's okay if modern people want to make new things, but we should also be clear on the nature of the ancient practice.

tarot/oracle cards, pendulums -> They are unrelated to the practice. They are just recent elements of western spiritual fascination, and the ancient Greek religion is already complete without them. If Apollo chooses to reveal himself through tarot he may as well reveal himself on a toaster xD A toaster is as related to the ancient Greek religion as much as tarot cards.

kharis -> Some Westerners overhype foreign words that are, in reality, very simple terms. Kharis is just "the grace of god" and the concept is similar to the grace spoken in Christianity, Islam and Hinduism. Kharis is not lost if you forget to wash your hands once, or if you are afraid that the item you placed on the altar is not good enough. You don't have to tiptoe around it, it's not something incomprehensible and mystical.

miasma -> Nobody asked for it but I am delivering it anyways because I see many new people to the religion treat miasma like they are 5th-century Greeks who will be punished by the plague if they menstruate too close to the altar. I've seen endless discussions online about what miasma is and all the detailed ways that you can avoid it, and how to cleanse everything and... as a 21st-century practitioner you are not supposed to be that fearful. In the Πλυντήρια festival, the statue of Athena goddess was washed clean but also cleansed metaphorically by people's sins. And you can cleanse your statues as well of course but not with the mindset of considering yourself unclean. Do not follow every advice from ancient people who thought women unclean when menstruating. Ironically, this post and this post from r/hellenism have a good approach to this. As one user says:

people who practice in secret -> I don't have particular thoughts for them. If they must hide their spirituality for reasons beyond their control, it's natural for them to do so. I wish them the best in their spiritual journey.

Take a look at my F.A.Q. page, and more specifically on these questions:

Can I worship the Greek gods as a xenos (non-Greek)?

What do Greeks think of people outside of Greece worshiping the Greek gods?

Reading List / Book recommendations on Greek Mythology

Are the Greek gods assholes? // What’s up with gods coupling with mortal women?

Also, when it comes to the practices of the ancient Greek religion, Google Scholar is your friend. Read a variety of scholars and please include Greek ones on your reading list. Western academia focuses a lot on what the myth means to The West today, while Greek academia focuses on what the myths meant in their time. Some classical students report that studying classics in Greece VS in the US can be night and day, and they got a more authentic feeling from the knowledge they gained from the Greek classes.

For gods, festivals, and rituals in Greece, I have some recommendations below, if you’d like to take a look! (The links open directly to them so you can read them for free)

Let it rain’, or ‘rain, conceive’: Rituals of magical rain-making in Ancient Greece, a comparative approach. In Roca, Z. et al. (eds.): European Landscapes and Lifestyles: The Mediterranean and Beyond. Lisboa: Edições Universitárias Lusófonas 2007: 285-304.

Cosmos 17 (2001), 197-251 Rituals of Magical Rain-Making in Modern and Ancient Greece: A Comparative Approach by Evy Johanne Håland

http://en.arch.uoa.gr/fileadmin/arch.uoa.gr/uploads/images/evy_johanne_haland/cosmos_17-2_haland.pdf

p.s., I call Christian temples "temples" because that's how we call them. We use ναός very frequently for our religious buildings.

I hope I covered your questions so far 💙😊 See you around, and have a great day!

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