#i miss being a kid i miss being her she was crying a lot and planned her funeral for 25 but at least i was a kid

[shecriestotheclickingoftime]

for the first time - 1.2k words

ex!Patrick Zweig x college!reader

you guys... i wrote something... and it ends abruptly but i felt like i'd rather post this and then post a follow-up later than keep this in the drafts for another 2 months...

inspired by "For The First Time" by Mac Demarco

based off of a request from a long time ago from @rayhalloffame but then i got inspired by the mac demarco song and lost the original plot- my sincerest apologies for that... (so so so sorry that this was so late and also that i lost the plot...)

basically patrick is your ex and you went off to college trying to forget about him, avoided him for a couple years, but this year you've brought back your new (shitty) boyfriend, taken him to your hometown bar, where patrick also happened to be.

tw! for drinking, also abrupt ending, also im not the best writer but i wanted to contribute something...

~~~~~~~~~~~

While she’s been away

Living day-to-day has been tough

Without her by my side

Simply being alive has been rough

And though she won’t be gone forever

There are many times I find it feels that way

And I’m not trying to forget her

Just understand how I’ll be feeling on that day

The bar was surprisingly packed, even for a Saturday night, and the overlapping conversations around him were so loud, it was hard for Patrick to even hear his own thoughts.

It was the weekend before thanksgiving, and it seemed that everyone was back in town for the holiday. Patrick recognized the faces of a lot of his old classmates from high school around him, but not you. 

He knew that you’d come back to town the past few years for the holidays, but he somehow never saw you out. He figured that you must’ve been avoiding him. You two hadn’t seen each other since the summer before you went off to college, the summer that you broke up with him.

He could remember it vividly: it was a hot July day, and you had told him to come over. You opened the door, looking like you had been crying for a while, having that closed-off look that Patrick hated. 

“I just… can’t go off to college with a boyfriend from back home. Long distance never works.”

Those exact words had been engraved in his mind since that day. Patrick Zweig had never been one for commitment, but something about you was different. Losing you had felt like losing part of himself. But he wanted you to do well in college, so he accepted it. And moved on.

Or, at least, he tried to. But even two and a half years later, things without you still didn’t feel right. Patrick felt pathetic; still stuck on some old childhood friend-turned-high school sweetheart that definitely wanted nothing to do with him. But, he still cared. 

So, here he was, standing next to his best friend Art, who had just come back from Stanford, in the middle of a loud, rowdy bar full of college kids. He already knew that you’d be avoiding him again this break, like you’d done for the past two years, but it didn’t sting any less to know that he’d go another year missing you, while you were off at college living your own life. 

Without her by my side

Simply being alive has been rough

It was right then that he saw you across the bar, standing in a group of girls that you’d been friends with back in high school, looking even more beautiful than the last time he saw you. 

You hadn’t noticed Patrick yet, and he was sure that when you did, you’d shut down and push him away again. You’d avoided him for so long, he was surprised that you two had even ended up in the same place. 

Next to you was some guy, standing stiffly and looking completely uninterested in whatever conversation you were having with your friends. It felt like a knife had just been shoved into Patrick’s stomach. He figured that you’d move on eventually, and he’s been with girls that he met on tour since he’d dated you anyways, but seeing you, with this boring, pretentious-looking guy felt unbearable. 

That “guy” was your boyfriend, of about 6 months now, that you’d finally brought home to meet your family. He was boring, and uninterested in the things that you liked, but he was stable, and seemed like a good option for you. So, you two had started dating. 

Everything with him was just… ok. He had a habit of talking down to you, making you feel dumb, and explaining things to you that you’d already known. He didn’t put much care into the relationship, he had never gotten you flowers or anything, but that’s just what guys are like, right? He treated you just fine, and you guys didn’t fight much, so it must be a good match. But something for you was just missing. 

He just… wasn’t Patrick. As much as you resisted admitting it to yourself, deep down you knew that you missed him. Which was basically why you had avoided him at all costs for the past two years, knowing that as soon as you’d start talking again, your progress of “moving on” would be completely wiped away. 

But now, the winter break of your junior year in college, you’d started to be less careful about avoiding the popular spots. Maybe it was just you being careless, or maybe you were hoping that you’d see him somewhere, at the bar, or the club, and have the “chance encounter” that’s been replaying in your daydreams since you started dating your current boyfriend. 

So, already on your third drink of the night, you couldn’t look away when you locked eyes with Patrick Zweig. God, he looked good. He’s gotten more toned from tour, and you’d forgotten just how tall he was. You could feel your boyfriend standing like a statue beside you, scrolling on his phone while your friend updated the group on all of the hometown gossip. But you couldn’t look away from Patrick. And he knew it.

Before you could fully process it, Patrick Zweig was there, standing in front of you. After two years. You wanted to roll your eyes at the smug look he was trying to keep pressed onto his face, but you could see the tenderness in his eyes as he looked at you. He looked so much… softer with you than he did with anyone else. You’d forgotten about that. 

Even your friends smiled when he joined the circle, standing across from you with an almost sheepish smile. Against all odds, they liked him as your boyfriend. At least more than they liked this stuck-up finance bro that you’d brought home this year. As your boyfriend, Patrick had almost become one of the girls, always joining in on a gossip sesh with you all as he held you on his lap, while this current guy acted like he was above that kind of “girly stuff”. 

And you just wanted to fall back into his arms. And god, he wanted that too.

But the idle chatter kept going, as you looked at the ground in silence. Your boyfriend didn’t pay any attention to your current state, he wasn’t paying attention to the conversation anyways. But Patrick did, he always did. 

“So… how have you been?” he asked, as you looked up hesitantly. And, at his voice, your boyfriend finally looked up from his phone. 

“She’s been good,” your boyfriend said, his face contorting into a bitter snarl. “I’m her boyfriend, by the way. Who are you?” he asked Patrick, his voice immediately sounding defensive.

The conversation passed by uncomfortable between them, as you dissociated from the scene before you. Your boyfriend sucked. You missed Patrick. And maybe it was wrong to break up over something like that, but in that moment, you just couldn’t care. 

Finishing your third drink, it all passed by in a blur. You pulled your boyfriend away for a second, ending that relationship before you did anything else. It was impulsive, and not your best moment, but honestly it needed to happen. 

And you ended up back with your friends, as your boyfriend ubered back to the hotel, talking and laughing with them, feeling at home for a moment. 

The rest of the night passed by in a blur, as you fell back into Patrick’s arms as the conversation with your friends continued, him laughing alone, his arms snaked around your waist from behind as you leaned against him, the haze of the bar finally feeling relaxing, instead of too loud or too chaotic. 

[cowardlycowboys]

I was so cute!!!!! what the heck!!!!

[pilonciillo]

lol didn’t think someone giving money would give me anxiety

[girlivealwaysbean]

man

[starryjess]

no offense to my beautiful cousin but i haven’t had one day where i haven’t thought about her since she’s died and it’s about to be a year and a half and i still cry so hard that my nose starts to bleed

[pathologicalreid]

here with me | s.r.

four times Spencer feels out of place in your house after being released from prison, and one time it's like he never left

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: mom!reader, dad!spencer, post prison, crying, stephen walker's death, non-specified illness, baking, kissing word count: 3.58k a/n: i love this fic format i have been wanting to do it for ages. and here we are. as always-tell me how you feeeeeeeel

“I wanna stay home,” your daughter whined from her place at the kitchen table. She periodically reached to her sister’s high chair so that she could steal blueberries from her plate.

You hummed, pouring the egg mixture into the preheated skillet, “We played hooky yesterday, bub. We’ve gotta go back to school today.” Using a silicone spatula, you started to scramble the eggs.

She grumbled unintelligibly, dramatically sliding down the chair, “Livvy gets to stay home.”

Turning down the heat on the stove, you went around the counter and crouched in front of your five-year-old, “Well, Livvy’s two, and before you ask, Finn’s not going to school either.”

“Finn’s a baby, mom. He can’t go to school,” she told you proudly.

You frowned at your daughter, “It’s hard to be the oldest, honey. We can’t keep staying home.” Ruffling her hair affectionately, you get up from the floor and go back to the stove, you continue scrambling the eggs.

To your eldest, going back to kindergarten was a fate worse than death. It wasn’t strictly that she didn’t want to go to school, it was that she didn’t want to leave home. The sniffle from the table lets you know that this morning was going to be harder than you initially anticipated. “I wanna stay with daddy,” she cried, kicking her legs at the table.

Turning off the heat, you set the pan on a trivet before going back to the table, “I know,” you responded. Every time you thought you had run out of tears, new ones managed to find their way out.

Of your three kids, Eleanor was old enough to really feel Spencer’s absence. To your dismay, she ended up bearing some of the burden of her father being gone for three months. After staying with your parents for a few days, she was finally reunited with her dad yesterday morning, and they had been nearly inseparable since.

“Oh, Nell,” you sighed, cupping her cheeks in your hands, “I don’t know if daddy has plans today. He has a lot of stuff that needs to be done.

Pulling away from your touch, she frantically wiped the tears from her eyes, “I can do stuff too,” she whimpered.

She unwound your resolve like a ball of yarn, “I know you can, honey. I just…” you faltered. You had let her miss so much school over the last three months that the school had sent letters home, “We’ll just have to see.”

You sighed helplessly, standing back up and smiling softly at Olivia, who had successfully gotten blueberry juice everywhere. Returning to the kitchen, you put some scrambled eggs on Eleanor’s plate and put more in a bowl for Olivia, setting it aside to cool more before you give it to your toddler.

Putting the pan in the sink, you flipped on the tap before starting to clean it. While you kept a watchful eye on the baby monitor, you didn’t notice Spencer come downstairs and walk into the kitchen. In fact, you were completely unaware of his presence until he spoke, “Can I help with anything?”

You lost your grip on the pan, sending soapy water flying all over the kitchen as you frantically tried to catch the handle. Eleanor either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Olivia thought it was hilarious. “Oh,” you breathed as Spencer reached over and turned off the water, “You scared me.”

The two of you shared a timid glance, his hand ghosting over your waist as he walked past you to where the girls were sitting.

Biting the dead skin off of your lips, you finished rinsing the pan before setting it on a drying mat. You were wiping down the countertop when Finn finally woke up, and you dropped everything to go get him from his crib, almost like you were running on autopilot.

Unzip the sleep sack. Change the diaper. Get dressed. Cuddle him. Every morning. In that order.

Resting the groggy baby on your hip, you made your way back downstairs and into the kitchen, starting the bottle warmer and listening to the conversation between Spencer and Nellie.

“What if you go to school today, but on Friday we can both take the day off? We could go out for lunch,” he offered, crouching down so he was at her level.

She looked pointedly over at Olivia, who was happily eating the eggs that you assumed Spencer had given her, now thoroughly doused in ketchup, “Just us?”

Spencer nodded reassuringly, “If it’s okay with mommy, we can have a daddy and Nellie day.” He reached out tentatively and tucked some of her hair behind her ear, everything about him seemed so timid.

You looped around the kitchen table, ruffling Olivia’s hair before doing the same to Eleanor’s and even Spencer’s, which made Olivia giggle.

“Can I?” Spencer asked, nodding his head to the bottle that you had just grabbed from the warmer.

Blinking absently for a moment, you eventually nodded, handing Finn over to his dad along with the bottle, watching as Spencer cradled him, walking him around the kitchen while his bottle was clamped between his tiny hands. “Hey, girls, time to get dressed,” you said, forcing yourself to peel your eyes off of your husband.

Eleanor groaned but got up anyway, trudging up the steps while you followed with Olivia in your arms, feeling like you were missing something without Finn also in tow.

Nell made her way back down first, sitting on the couch and watching her dad, keeping an eye on him like she was afraid he was going to disappear before her very eyes. “Daddy?” She whispered, her voice barely audible from your place at the top of the stairs.

“Yeah?” He asked, you heard the sound of him setting the bottle in the sink.

She’s quiet for a moment before responding, “I missed you.”

Spencer’s footsteps stopped abruptly, “I missed you too, lovebug.”

You started to make your way down the stairs, letting Olivia go down on her own now that she wasn’t covered in blueberry. Eleanor looked at you with big eyes before helping her sister climb up on the couch. “Finny, Finny, Finny,” Olivia echoed.

Zipping up Eleanor’s school lunch in her bag, you sighed, hoping you were doing the right thing by sending her to school. “Hey, Nell,” you said, checking a new message on your phone, “Mrs. Jareau is here.”

JJ’s carpools had saved you multiple times while Spencer was in prison, you were just grateful she was willing to continue them.

Normally, she’d run out the door at the prospect of being able to talk to Henry, but this time she lingered by the front door, holding her backpack straps in her hands and staring at her dad, “Will you be here when I get home?”

He looked at you, a thousand emotions flashing in his brown eyes, and he squatted in front of her, “I’ll be here,” he said, holding out his pinky finger to interlock with her much smaller one. “I promise,” he said, kissing her forehead before standing up.

Once you knew she was off to school, you made sure Olivia was settled in on the couch and Finn was in his bouncer before going back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up. You were placing dishes in the dishwasher when Spencer came back.

“I’m sorry,” he said, leaning against the countertop and handing you a bowl to put on the top rack.

Taking the bowl, you didn’t look at him as you placed it in the dishwasher before putting a tablet in and pressing the start button, “I wish you’d stop apologizing.”

He stepped slightly closer to you, “I know. It’s just… watching you handle all three of them in the morning. It’s incredible,” he praised you. “I left you alone,” he said mournfully.

You shrugged, having never really thought of it that way, “You didn’t leave me alone. I had them,” you said, nodding in the direction of the living room, where Finn and Olivia were having a conversation that only the two of them could understand.

You sighed in relief as the shower water washed over you, an early afternoon shower just before Eleanor got home from school, the little ones were down for their naps, and you had to race against time before one of them woke up. It didn’t give you a lot of time to just sit under the running water, but you’d have enough time to wash your hair before you needed to pause the shower.

You had narrowly avoided disaster this morning when the girls’ breakfasts had been mixed up. Thankfully, you navigated a toddler meltdown that was triggered by the appearance of ham in her eggs. Poor Spencer was still confused even after you explained to him that she wouldn’t eat ham because it’s pink and pink is her favorite color.

It wasn’t something that made a lot of sense to you either, but the only person that it needed to make sense to was your two-year-old.

Rinsing your hair, you remembered how happy Spencer had been when he got Finn down last night. He’d spent the day talking about how babies don’t start to really recognize faces until they’re around four months old, and that was about how old he was when Spencer left.

Finn knew his dad. He’d even started reaching out for him when he wanted to be held but feeling comfortable enough to be put down for the night by him—it felt like a milestone.

The crying started right after you finished rinsing your hair, you quickly shut off the water and grabbed your towel off of the hook. Wrapping it around yourself, you dried off your feet before opening the bathroom. Sometimes when Finn cried while you were in the shower, you’d just bring him in with you to finish, but when you opened the door, his tears were already waning.

Spencer had gotten to him first, scooping him out of the crib in your room and holding him to his chest, “Hey, buddy,” he cooed softly, “What’s wrong?”

The baby chattered in response, gripping the cotton of Spencer’s t-shirt in his tiny fists and wiping his tears away.

“You’re alright,” Spencer whispered, placing him on your bed to undo his sleep sack, smiling at his son when he kicked his legs once freed. “You just wanted to be held, huh? Your sister was the same way when she was a baby,” he said.

Nell. He was remembering Nell as a baby, who slept best when she was being held and would cry if you were out of her line of sight.

Spencer turned around, stopping in his tracks when he saw you in the doorway, “Did you finish?”

You’d been caught, “Oh. Could you get a new soap from the hall closet? We’re out,” you fibbed, mindful of the way your hair was still dripping wet.

He frowned, “I just put a new one in this morning. Did you look on the caddy?”

Blinking, you shook your head, “No, my bad.”

You had already started closing the door when he called for you, “Honey?”

Pausing, you peeked out the door to look at him, “Yeah?”

“I’m here,” he told you, something urgent in his tone.

Your face warmed, the reminder of his presence making your heart race, “I—” you faltered, “I know.”

You had managed to get Nell out the door without a fight this morning with the promise of her father-daughter date tomorrow. Olivia was settled with her toys in your line of sight and Finn was in a sling. The baby hadn’t slept well last night, and you were fairly certain that he had a new tooth poking through. He seemed fine now, catching up on sleep while you wiped down the kitchen.

Spencer was across from you, filling out some required papers for his reinstatement hearing. He hadn’t fully committed to seeking reinstatement until you brought it up. Frankly, you were horrified by the fact that Spencer was under the impression that you would ask him to leave the BAU for any reason.

“What do you have planned today?” Spencer asked you, still focusing on the papers while making gentle conversation with you.

You raised your eyebrows briefly, “Really awesome exciting stuff.” You took a sip of your coffee before adjusting Finn’s sling. Very slowly, you were beginning to find a new routine with Spencer and the kids in the morning. Spencer was learning about everything that had changed, and you were learning how to give him more responsibilities around the house.

You needed to let go of the notion that you were still alone. Spencer hummed in response, laughing at your blatant oversell, “Like what?”

Smiling, you dried your hands on a tea towel before standing next to him, distracting him from his paperwork with the cuteness of a sleeping baby. “There is so much dirty laundry in this house,” you told him, “I’m surprised anyone has any clean clothes.”

“Anything else?” Spencer asked, placing one hand gently on your hip and pressing a tentative kiss to your lips.

You hesitated, “Uh, cooking?”

He looked at you curiously, “Cooking for what?”

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you looked over at Olivia, making sure she was preoccupied before answering, “Monica and the kids.”

Realization dawned over Spencer’s face, “Oh,” he breathed. It didn’t surprise you that Spencer had conflicting feelings about Stephen’s death, given that he hadn’t known him that well prior to his arrest, but he and his family had grown close to you in your husband’s absence.

You nodded, “There’s a meal train thing going on for them, so I was going to make some stuff and drop it there later.” Tentatively, you smoothed Spencer’s hair back, needing something to do with your hands, “Maya used to babysit a lot when I needed extra hands. I just want to feel like I’m returning the favor.”

“Can I come with you?” Spencer asked, tilting his head back to look up at you.

Smiling softly at him, you answered, “Of course.” You sniffled, “If we time it right, we could pick Nell up from school at the end of the day.”

He squeezed your hip comfortingly, “I love you.”

You leaned down and kissed him again, “I love you too.”

The chattering woke you up, Finn in his crib talking to himself as you glared at the alarm clock. It was just past three in the morning, and the second thing you noticed was that you were alone in your bed.

You sat up in a panic, worried you had dreamt the past few weeks until your eyes found Spencer’s watch sitting on his nightstand. Rubbing your eyes, you dragged yourself out of bed before getting Finn from his crib, taking his sleep sack off to make him easier to hold, “Hey,” you whispered, “Let’s go find daddy.”

It didn’t take you long, Spencer was sitting on the floor in the hallway, his knees bent to his chest as he looked into Nell’s room, her space nightlight providing a soft glow into the hallway.

“If you move to the left about a foot, you can see both of them at the same time,” you informed him.

He listened, shifting over so that he could see Eleanor and Olivia at the same time, both of them sleeping peacefully in their beds. Spencer looked up at you, “Why do you know that?”

You slid down the wall, taking a seat next to him and settling Finn lengthwise along your thighs, “At the beginning of March, Nell brought home a virus from school and gave it to Liv, and then one of them gave it to Finn. So, I’d sit out here in the hallway and watch the girls with Finny in my lap,” you told him, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Just so I’d be nearby if any of them needed anything,” you kept your voice at a whisper, rocking your legs in hopes that it would soothe Finn back to sleep.

Spencer didn’t respond for a moment, thinking through what you had said before finally speaking up, “No one told me they’d been sick.”

Humming, you smoothed the baby’s hair back, keeping it out of his face, “I didn’t tell anyone.” To this day, no one else knew that you had juggled three sick kids at once, “I lied to JJ and told her that I was keeping Nell home for a few days, and she didn’t push for more information.” No one had pushed you for anything in the past three months.

“Why didn’t you ask for help?” Spencer asked, leaning his head on yours and resting a hand on your knee.

You didn’t want to, quite honestly. You hadn’t wanted to have to call your mom or anyone from the BAU when you needed help because it felt like an admission of sorts. Admitting that Spencer was gone long-term and that you were a solo parent. “I don’t know,” you lied, “I felt like I had something to prove to the world.”

Spencer swallowed thickly next to you, “Did it work?”

Shaking your head, you sighed a breath of relief at his presence, “No.”

He was quiet for a while, likely wallowing in a pit of guilt that he had been constructing for weeks, “We should get him back to bed.”

“Spence?” You whispered, closing your eyes and listening to the sounds of your quiet house, “Can we just stay like this for a little while?”

Humming a confirmation, Spencer placed a gentle kiss on the crown of your head, leaving his hand resting on your knee while the two of you remained in the hallway, enjoying each other’s company.

“We should’ve done cupcakes,” you said mournfully, turning on the oven light to see that there was something very off about the cake you’d put in the oven.

Spencer hummed, looking at the recipe again to see if there was something you had missed, “Why didn’t we do cupcakes?”

You huffed, “The Pinterest photo I found was of a cake.” It was a perfect cake, complete with a purple graduation cap made out of fondant that you could put on the top. The only problem was you had severely overestimated your baking abilities.

“So,” Spencer started, “It’s your fault.”

Scoffing, you tapped his chest with a silicone spatula, “It’s the fault of whoever posted the original photo!”

Spencer smiled at you, a dopey look in his eyes despite it being one in the morning. “We should’ve asked Penelope to do the cake,” he told you, flipping over the recipe you had printed out.

“We can make a cake,” you retorted, you were throwing a very small party for Nell’s last day of kindergarten—the first time you’ve invited a group over since Spencer was arrested. “You have three PhDs and you don’t think you can bake a cake?”

He raised his eyebrows at you, “This might come as a surprise to you, but none of my coursework ever involved baking.”

You grinned at him, “That does surprise me, it’s basically chemistry,” you challenged.

Spencer rolled his eyes, “Okay, come here,” he said, pulling you into his arms by the fabric of your t-shirt.

Realization fell over you as you scrambled to get away, “No! You’re gonna put frosting on my nose again.” It would be his second offense of the evening.

He followed you into the living room where you tripped over a toy truck, causing you to fall to the ground. When he offered a hand to help you up, you tugged him to the floor, causing one of the balloons that you had previously blown up to pop.

You covered your mouth to muffle your giggles, waiting to see if the noise had woken any of the kids up.

The kids were all so happy to have Spencer back, but your stomach twisted at the realization that this was the first night you’d really felt like you had Spencer back. You loved the kids, but you haven’t had a moment without them since February.

“Hey,” you said to Spencer, rolling over and flinging a balloon at him for good measure.

Carefully, you rested your chin on his chest, staring at him while he tried to calm his own laughter, “Hi,” he said back, ruffling your hair affectionately.

You took a deep breath before speaking up again, “I missed you.”

You hadn’t said it yet. You’d developed some misconstrued fear of making him feel guilty if you’d told him just how much you missed him, but it was the truth. You missed him. He smiled softly down at you, almost as if he had been waiting for you to say the words. “I missed you too,” he whispered.

Slowly, you lifted yourself up and pressed your lips to his, kissing him. It was more than any of the quick pecks you’d shared in the last few weeks, it was real. His hands dug into your waist as if he was afraid you were going to disappear, but you stayed there. You stayed with him, and you always would.

Up until the timer for the cake went off, your phone buzzing in your pocket when you finally pulled away. Breathing heavily, Spencer asked, “Is it too late to ask Penelope to do the cake?”

[tender-rosiey]

1am thoughts, thinking about Gojo introducing kid Megumi to his newborn baby and Megumi being protective of them and even calling them his little sister/brother at one point and gojo is running LAPS he's just overwhelmed and happy over a small yet powerful phrase.

to protect — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: this is so cute i am gonna cry also megumi is like 11-12 here

you’re finally back home, after a long day at the hospital. you’re finally engulfed in the comfort of your bed while your husband is still sat up with his little girl bundled in his arms.

he hasn’t let go of her since you have been discharged.

“’toru, honey, you have to sleep soon; you can hold her tomorrow,” you sleepily murmur to your husband.

he nods and whispers, “I know. It’s just I—I can’t believe it’s real,” he kisses her forehead softly, “that she is finally here, our little princess.”

a tired smile makes its way to your lips. you hum in understanding, gently caressing his cheek. he sighs happily, before looking at you, “but you, missy, actually need to rest. you’ve had a long day.”

you frown and he chuckles, and his hand moves to stroke your hair, “rest, pretty. you were a champion today,” you move to nuzzle closer to his side and your arm wraps around his torso.

and so his little girl is comfortably nestled in one of his arms, while the other is wrapped around you so his hand can pet your head lovingly.

satoru truly feels like he is holding the world in his hands right now.

suddenly, the door slowly creaks open and a very familiar face peaks from it. satoru chuckles, “come in, megumi; they’re both asleep anyway.”

the boy carefully pads his way to gojo.

he is so used to seeing him being all goofy and unserious, so it catches him a bit off-guard how serene and quiet he is being right now. megumi looks at the sleeping baby then whispers, “what’s her name?”

“d/n,” satoru answers fondly.

megumi nods then observes her for a small while, “she really is a perfect mix between the both of you.”

a soft and quiet laugh escapes satoru’s lips, “you’re right,” he looks up at megumi with a grin, “you wanna hold her?”

the boy is taken back and his expression betrays him as nervousness takes over his face. his eyes don’t leave the girl and his gaze is more than troubled, “…what if I hurt her?”

satoru shakes his head, “you scared? she is my daughter; she is the strongest baby ever,” he grins, “no one can hurt her.”

megumi rolls his eyes, but quickly directs his focus to the little girl. he takes a moment, before he extends his arms. satoru gently places her in his arms. megumi’s hold on her is protective, and he doesn’t look as awkward as satoru thought he would.

actually, he is quite the natural.

he gently rocks her, and he can’t help but smile at her sleeping face. megumi whispers to her, “hi there.”

she coos at him, and starts swaying his arms around. she slowly opens her eyes, and a tiny smile appears on her chubby face. megumi’s eyes widen a little, and he immediately looks at gojo, “she is smiling.”

satoru laughs, “she is a very smiley baby, but i think she likes you a lot. she only smiled at y/n and me,” he feels you stir a bit in your sleep.

he pulls you closer and rubs your shoulder then he giggles at how quickly you fall back asleep. while satoru is occupied by you, megumi is staring in awe at little miss gojo.

later, satoru wakes up in the middle of the night to check on his little girl in the adjacent room. he groggily gets up, after kissing your forehead. he walks there, and when he finally reaches the room, he notices the lights are already on, and the door is left a bit open.

he peaks a little into the room, and sees megumi standing by the crib. he is fondly looking at d/n, and gently petting her head. he is whispering something to her, but satoru is still able to hear it all the same.

“don’t grow up to be annoying like your dad, please.”

satoru scowls, and contemplates bursting into the room, and bullying the hell out of megumi. however, he ultimately decides against it. he doesn’t end up regretting the decision.

megumi gently boops her nose, “you’re like a little sister to me now, so I promise to protect you.”

she squeals and makes grabby hands at him, and he chuckles, “you believe me, huh?”

satoru slowly backs away from the door and walks away. when he is a safe distance from the door, he starts running and bursts into your shared room.

he dramatically falls to the ground, “that was… the cutest thing ever! after d/n and y/n’s smiles, of course.”

he stands up, proudly. his heart is at ease as he now knows that there is yet another person to look after his baby girl, if something happens. a content grin is on his face as he enjoys the silence and comfort. it’s short lived, as always.

a pillow is thrown at his face, and he stumbles to the ground.

“that’s for waking me up, satoru!”

“noooo, baby, I am sorry!”

“uh—,” megumi awkwardly stands at the door, holding d/n up, “guys, she pooped.”

satoru grins, and excitedly stands up—with a camera that he got out of nowhere to take photos of her—he coos, “aww! your first shit, pretty girl? what a good girl!”

megumi places her on the changing table beside your bed. the smell of her great ‘achievement’ fills the door, and he takes the chance of gojo being distracted to run out of the room, before another nuclear explosion drops.

the girl is gleefully clapping upon seeing her dad, and he reciprocates the smile tenfold. he gently holds her feet and sways them slightly, “such a big girl, already pooping!”

“want daddy to change your diapers for you?” he coos and the girl just puts her thumb in her mouth and starts kicking her feet. he chuckles and slowly opens the diaper. he is met with the vilest smell, and he can’t believe his sweet daughter can produce such smells.

however, he quickly composes himself, and tries to make his way through the travail of changing the diaper. he proves to be too weak because he, after a moment, looks at you, “uh, babe, teamwork makes the dream work?”

you groan, falling back to the bed.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @wemma67 @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[sturnlsstuff]

MISSED YOU | chris sturniolo

| ".... god, i hate that i missed you so much"

pairing: dealer!chris x fem!reader

summary: your dealer has been out of town for almost two weeks and after he's finally back, he texts you needing to see you.

warnings; smut, dom!chris, sub!reader, p in v, pet names, praising, unprotected sex, dirty talking, hair pulling, rough sex, car sex, crying, public¿ sex, cursing, mdni

a/n: literally my first fanfic after a looong time so please bear with me, if its bad... you know why. english isnt my first language so sorry for any mistakes! also its a little long 😭 part two here !!

~~~

she laughed at some joke her friend made and took another bite of her pizza. it was late friday afternoon, she and her bestfriends were hanging out, since there was nothing else to do. everything was great, until her phone buzzed. she looks at her screen, immediately smiling when she sees his name. she wasn't even aware that her lips had curved into a smile.

her friends were too busy with their own conversation, so she uses her moment and grabs her phone, reading the message from chris. she hasn't heard from him in over two weeks, she had no clue what he was doing, or where he was. she also didn't want to ask, hating the feeling of being too desperate. and it's not like he owns her any explanation either.

chris: u busy?

she bites her lip, fighting the urge to smile again as she replies back.

y/n: hi to you too

y/n: yeah im out with friends, whats up

chris: having fun?

chris: when u gonna be home ma?

y/n: like in an hour or so

chris: can u hurry up? c'mon kid i miss ya

y/n: you do???

she can't help but genuinely grins this time, her eyes widen a little. did he miss her? or was he just saying that to make her give in? he always knew how to talk to her, to make her going feral over him. but she wanted to believe he means it this time.

chris: hell yeah i do

chris: get ur ass out here

she looks at her friends, that were still yapping about something, that she couldn't care less about right now. she needed to see him. he never said he missed her before.

y/n: then come pick me up, im sending u the address

chris: omw gorgeous

chris is already in his car, when she sends him the address. not being able to see her for over two weeks, made him think. A lot. he has been her drug dealer for over a year now, there was tension between them since the beginning, so it didnt take them long to finally fuck at some party a few months ago. and since then, it's happening every now and then, usually they meet to smoke together, then they end up all over each other.

after a few minutes, he parks the car in front of the pizzeria, finally seeing her. she made a stupid excuse for her friends to leave, not being able to hide her excitement, so they just could assume what was going on.

chris gets out of the car, looking her up and down, licking his lips as she was only wearing a black crop top and baggy camo pants. he personally loved those, especially on her.

he opens the door for her, a smirk playing on his lips. "get in."

she tried her hardest to act casual, but just seeing him after a while, in all black outfit, was enough to make her dizzy. and she could swear he got a haircut. his hair was so much shorter, and she loved it.

she smiles, keeping the eye contact while getting inside the car. he closes the door, his eyes roaming all over her body as she walked towards him. he snaps back to reality, getting to the other side and climbing back into the drivers seat. he was feeling so many things that he couldn't express.

"missed me so bad, you couldn't wait an hour, huh?" she speaks up, putting on the seatbelt and looking over at him, while he starts the car.

she notices the way he looks her up and down, his eyes stopping at her exposed skin a little too long.

"i've missed my favorite customer." he smirks, going back to the eye contact.

"yeah, your favorite customer... right." she says sarcastically, trying her hardest to keep her cool and not to blush under his stare.

he grins before replying, focused on keeping his hands on the wheel instead of her body. it was getting harder with every second. "yeah, the one i always gotta give free stuff to."

"oh, dont act like i force you to do this..." she scoffs, still looking at him. "you know i always want to pay you."

"i know y'do... doesn't mean i will stop givin' it to you for free though."

"see, and that's crazy."

chris rolls his eyes, loving and hating at the same time, how she always had to talk back to him. he's driving, planning to go to her house, but the way she's looking right now, and especially her attitude, is making him crazy. he feels his dick getting harder with every second.

"whatever, ma. i know you secretly like it."

"yeah, sure." she mumbles with sarcastic tone, her eyes still watching him. seeing him driving was one of her favorite things in the world, he always looked so good. she appreciates, that he gives her stuff for free or cuts down her prices, but dealing was his job, he was making money out of it, so she always felt bad when he didnt want her cash. "what made you busy for so long? thought the cops caught or some shit"

chris bites his lip, his eyes glancing over to her for a second, before focusing back on the road. he never felt so desperate like right now, just having her in his car like that...

once he hears her question, he snaps back to reality and smiles. "the cops? please, sweetheart, they can suck my dick."

chris changes his direction, spotting an empty parking lot and he drives there. "i was out of town, had to deal with some business... nothin' to worry about now." he explains, parking and turning off his car, and his stare travels to her, scanning her face and body. "you're so curious...."

she nods, now understanding why he wasn't texting her these past two weeks, she was a bit ashamed 'cause she honestly thought maybe he got bored of her, so she didn't text him either. she still got some weed until yesterday, so she also had no reason to.

"why would you stop here?" she asks, looking at him with a little frown, but once she sees his smirk, the realization hits her. the excitement filling her body, the tension between them so noticeable, it makes her shiver.

he stares at her for a moment, adjusting his pants and then suddenly he unbuckles his seatbelt, sitting back in his seat so there was more space now.

"c'mere."

her eyes travels down on his lap, seeing the noticeable big bulge even through his jeans. she blushes slightly, looking back at him, the smirk still playing on his lips and it makes her weak in her knees.

"chris..." he cuts her off by reaching over and grabbing her chin, tilting her face closer to his.

"y'gonna do what i said, or keep talking back?"

she immediately unbuckles her seatbelt, moving over the center console and she gets into his lap, straddling him. she wasn't gonna act like she didn't miss him too, because, goddamn, she did. she presses herself onto his hard dick, watching him closely, and seeing how desperate and frustrated he was right now. It made her feel a little bit of a power, that she decided to take advantage of.

"now, was that so hard, ma?" he smirks even more, trying to hide his growing need for her, but his hands moves to grip onto her thighs. he felt the urge to touch her all over.

"you know, fifteen more minutes and we would be at my place-"

"you really think, i would wait fifteen fucking minutes, when i havent seen you for two weeks, and you look like that?" he loves the way she looks at him, with such admiration. she was so pretty in his eyes, he never felt this type of desperation for anyone ever before.

"and who's fault is that?" his hands grips her tighter and puts her closer in on his lap, making a little bit of friction, that he so desperately needs. his fingers digging into her skin, while he stares into her eyes.

"shut up for once, yeah?"

"make me." she smirks, challenging him. he doesn't have to hear it twice, loving the attitude she's giving him right now. his hand moves up from her thigh to the back of her neck, pulling her face closer and he kisses her roughly, grabbing her ass with his other hand as he does.

she smiles against his lips, immediately kissing him back with the same intensity, and she grinds down against his clothed dick, feeling her own need growing with every second. she missed the way he kissed her, she missed his lips, his hands all over her, his body against hers. she missed him and she hated to admit that.

she slides her tongue into his mouth, he bites her lip in response and lets her lead the kiss. moving up his hips to feel her more and not being able to hold back, he groans against her lips. he never felt so needy before. he pulls away for a moment to speak, and starts trailing kisses down her neck, squeezing her ass, before his hand moves up, caressing the skin on her exposed stomach.

"god, i hate that i missed you so much."

it slips from his mouth, he doesn't think much about it as he sucks on her skin, but for her it meant everything. she tilts back her head, giving him more space and she grinds against his lap some more, running her hand through his brown hair. he lets out a growl as she grinds down on him, making him even harder and he bucks his hips up again. lifting up his head from her neck his stare finds hers, the noticeable lust in his eyes made her bite her lip to hold back a moan. the smirk coming back to his face once he notices her flushed cheeks.

"what 'bout you, huh, ma? missed me too?"

she closes her eyes, their face so close to each other, it makes their lips brush when she replies him back.

"yeah... i did"

he grins, his hands playing with the waistband of her pants. that's all he needed to know, that she missed him as much as he missed her. even though they both were aware, they should'nt.

"how much, hm?" he unzips her pants, she lifts herself up, gripping his shoulders to balance herself and helps him take them off. then she straddles him again, trying to hold back her smile, but not being able to.

"want me to show you?"

he groans after her words, feeling her wet panties pressing against his hard dick and he bucks up his hips again, being so desperate, that he was ready to beg her. he starts marking her neck again, his hand traveling between her legs, massaging her clit through her underwear. her breath hitches in her throat, she lets out a little whine and grips his hair slightly.

"so wet already... shiiiitttt... all this f'me, huh?" he says against her skin, bitting on it slightly and making her moan. he adds more pressure, circling over her clit. "lift this shit up."

his tone demanding, he wasn't asking. she lifts up her top, revealing her breasts. he looks at her now, his eyes going back and forth between her tits, and her face. "fuck... not wearing a bra? fuckin' slut..."

he licks her hard nipple, then starting sucking on it. her hand tightens in his hair, tilting her head back and she lets out more whimpers. she was supposed to be the one in control this time, she craved it and saw how needy he is, but the way he's touching her, makes her losing her mind. he then pulls her panties to the side, running his fingers through her wet folds and suddenly putting one inside her. not even giving her any time, he just starts pumping in and out, adding another finger after a moment, now stretching her out. he pulls away from her nipple, looking at her face.

"c-chris..." she moans quietly, trying her hardest to keep the eye contact, but struggles to do so. her hands now traveling down his chest and unbuckling his belt.

"yeah, ma? y'like that?" he tries to keep his cool, still working his fingers inside her dripping pussy, curling them and making her whine in response. "look at you... so, fuckin' desperate on my lap. missed my fingers, huh? want some more?"

she desperately nods, squeezing around his fingers, but once he feels that, he pulls them out immediately putting them in his mouth to lick them clean. she whines, pouting her lips when he stops.

"show me how much you missed this dick then."

she bites her lip, unzipping his pants and with his help, she pulls them down to his knees, his boxers following after a second. chris leans his head back against the seat, gripping her hips as she gives him a few strokes before pulling her underwear to the side. she runs her thumb over his tip, collecting the precum and spreading it all over his cock, using it as a lubricant and then she lowers herself slowly on his cock, the movement making them both moan out loud with pleasure. she stays like this for a moment, needing to adjust after these past two weeks without him.

"fuckk...so tight...your pussy was made f'me.." he groans, tightening his grip on her hips and he watches her closely, as she finally starts moving on him. he’s holding himself back from moving up his hips and taking over, trying so hard not to thrust into her. he loves the feeling of her body against his and he’s missed it so much. he needed it, he needed her and he hated that. the feeling just kept growing, making the space in the car feel even smaller.

he pulls her back down into another kiss, this time more sloppy, continuing to move his tongue against hers, tasting her. she kisses him back, starting speeding up her pace and now bouncing on him harder. his dick hitting just all the right spots, making her moan loudly while chris tries to focus on the kiss and not to lose his composure. he wanted to take over, he always did, but the feeling of her riding him like that, has him gripping the seat. he grits his teeth, trying to keep himself together and he knows his patience wont last long. he looks up at her again, his eyes glued to her face.

"fuckkkk, ma.... takin' all of me so well... shit..." he hisses, when she speeds up even more. "so good.... s-so good f'me...."

she grips into his shoulders more, moaning loudly at his praises and she continues moving. chris is in complete ecstasy as she picks the pace up, a feeling like he hasn’t experienced before. there's just something about her on top and taking what she wants, that's got him feeling so many things at once.

“fuck.. just like that” one of his hands grab her ass, giving it a squeeze and then slapping it. "fuckin' slut... you like it? fucking in my car? takin' it just like a little bitch.... yeah? shitttt..."

he moans now not being able to hold back, and he starts thrusting into her. she gasps for air, her eyes closing shut as she tightens around him. "oh, wanna cum, huh? not yet darlin'...." he grips her hips more, his tip hitting her g-spot with every move.

"chris i-"

she cuts herself off with another moan, not being able to think straight. she digs her nails into the back of his neck, her head falling down on his shoulder and he immediately stops. her eyes snap open, she lifts up her head to look at him, a smirk playing on his lips.

"you better don't look away f'me, ma.... wanna see your pretty face y'know? and keep makin' those sexy little sounds...got it?"

she nods, but it's not enough from him as he speaks up again. "use your words baby, c'mon... you aint that fucked out of your mind yet, hm?"

"i got it, just... please..." she whines, moving her hips, wanting to bounce on him again, but he stops her. she pouts. "chrissss......"

"get to the backseat." he demands, after scanning her face for a while. he wanted to give her all the pleasure she deserves. he wasn't even thinking about himself, he couldn't care less about his release. he just needed to make her feel good, making sure no one else can do what he can.

she pulls away from him, now moving over the center console again, struggling a bit but she gets into the backseat. chris obviously smacks her ass as she does, what makes her squeak.

"chris!"

but he just smirks, pulling off his pants and boxers all the way down and throwing it on the passenger seat, so it wasn't in the way. he gets on the back himself, there was little space, but enough to get into his favorite position. chris puts his hand on her back, forcing her to get on her knees and hands on the seat, as he positions himself behind her. chris loves the way he can get her all desperate and begging, so he teases her now. he moves his tip along her folds, making her whine. then he slowly puts it in, but after a few seconds he pulls back again.

"chris...." she whines, knowing he's playing with her now.

"yeah, baby?"

she bites her lip, her face pressing into the seat and she lifts up her hips more. "stop teasing me, please...."

he grins even more, slapping her pussy with his dick and then he suddenly pulls his cock all the way in, making her gasp and scream out of pleasure. the new angle let him hit all of her sweet spots.

"whatever you want, princess." he starts thrusting into her with a very intense and fast pace, going as deep as he could. the car now filled up with her moans and the sounds of skin slapping against each other. he grips her hips tight, keeping her in place. he can feel her squeezing around his cock again, and he lets out a growl. "c'mon.... cum all over me...wanna see you while y'do..."

chris moves one of his hands, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back, having a good view on her face. her mouth wide open, letting out loud moans, her eyes rolling back.

"oh my god!" she cries out, gripping the edge of the seat like her life depended on it and she releases, the wet, squelching sound coming from her now louder. he groans, kissing her neck and whispering into her ear.

"you feel so good... cummin' like that f'me... such a good girl.."

she moans, squeezing around him again, the overstimulation now making her shiver as he keeps going with the crazy pace, not slowing down at all. he lets go of her hair, her head immediately falling onto the seat and he grips by her hips again, making sure she feels him as deep as he wants her to. he growls, being on the edge himself.

"i'm... close.." he mutters, throwing his head back. "gonna fill you up, yeah?"

she whines nodding desperately, but then he smacks her ass giving her a sign to answer verbally.

"shit! yes, fuck, yes chris, please!" she feels tears filling up her eyes from the pleasure, a few of them coming down her cheeks moment later. chris bites his lip, feeling her tightening around him. he moves one of his hands between her legs, now rubbing her clit, while still thrusting hard into her, but his movements getting sloppier. she cries out, her legs trembling and his dick twitches, finally cumming inside her, his warm sticky release filling her up and dripping out of her. he curses under his breath, digging his fingers into her skin, leaving bruises as he does. she feels him cumming, and the overstimulation from him lazily massaging her clit and still hitting her g-spot, makes her finish again. the pressure in her stomach now becoming too much, unable to hold back, she feels the liquid squirts out of her in waves.

his eyes snap open, looking down at her and he growls. he slows down until he eventually stops, after they both ride out their highs, this time not wanting to overstimulate her. looking at the mess she made, he can't help but feel a bit cocky about it.

"shit, ma.... squirtin' all over me, huh? is it how it is now?" he smirks, a little surprised that he made her do that but he couldn't be more proud. he pulls out of her, letting go of her hips and her body immediately falls onto the seat. she's breathing heavily, not being able to reply yet. "that's my fuckin' girl.."

he runs his fingers along her inner thigh, collecting her and his cum and he leans in a bit, covering over her. he looks at her fucked out expression and the smudged mascara on her cheeks. "look at me."

she opens her eyes, her mind blank, body shaking. he puts his fingers into her mouth, she immediately cleans them up, tasting both his and her release on her tongue, making sure she keeps the eye contact with him while she does that.

"you're so hot." he says now kissing the tears on her cheeks away. "took me so well..."

she smiles, seeing his flushed cheeks and messy hair sticking to his forehead. it was her favorite view.

"y'good, kid? don't go all mute on me now.."

"don't call me that...." she mumbles, trying to get her sarcastic attitude back, but she was absolutely spent right now. "i'm fine."

he just grins, gently patting her cheek before he pulls away. she slowly lifts herself up, trying to fight her trembling legs and she sits up now, facing him. not being able to do anything more yet, her glare moving to her legs and the seat she made mess on. she feels her cheeks growing hotter, now suddenly embarrassed and trying to ignore his stare. this never happened to her with him before and she didn't know what he thought about it.

"sorry about... the seats" she mumbles, grimacing.

he raises his eyebrows, now seeing her embarrassment and he doesn't understand why. it was a little surprising but he felt so proud. he already wanted to make her do it all over again. "you f'real? don't even say sorry, ever again."

she's still not so sure, blushing even more as he wipes her cheeks from the smudged mascara and then runs his hand through her hair, trying to fix it a little bit. he smiles softly. "gonna clean this up later, don't you worry 'bout that, okay?"

chris then reaches into the center console for the tissues, grabbing them and spreading her legs with his hands. she watches him closely seeing how he starts just gently cleaning her up. this simple movement makes her feel the heat rising from her cheeks down to her neck, so she just covers her face with her hands shyly. not really being able to understand why is she so embarrassed this time, he grabs her wrists, forcing her hands to move away from her face.

"y'gotta be kiddin' me. don't hide from me, ma." chris mutters. "not when you made such pretty mess in my car."

with a quiet sigh, she lets him take her hands off of her face. she chews on her bottom lip nervously while he goes back to cleaning her up, touching her slightly as she was made from some kind of glass. it was even cute, how he just made sure she was fine. it's not their first rough sex, but this one was definitely more intense and for some reason felt so... different. she had this strange feeling in her chest, just seeing him focused on wiping her legs and how he didn't seem to care about his covered in her release seats. once he's done, he sits beside her, wrapping his hand around her shoulder and pulling her close. she doesn't like the silence, even if before it was never awkward, this one was bothering her as she couldn't stop feeling unfamiliar emotions.

"i ran out, by the way." she suddenly blurts out, making him laugh. there was no way in hell this girl was real.

"yeah? good to know. gonna give y'some more later."

"im paying this time."

"oh, you've paid enough already." she immediately looks up at him, smacking his shoulder and he chuckles in response, pretending to be in pain. "woaaahh, bein' a little brat again, hm?"

"that's not funny, im giving you money." her tone shows no objection, he smirks and nods, knowing he won't take anything from her anyway. they sit like that for a moment, before he speaks up, knowing he will get another hit after that.

"soooo... round two?"

"christopher, i swear to god."

_____________________________

a/n: oh my god this seems sooo long 😭 tell me what yall think, i feel like i kinda fucked up with the whole dealer vibe but lmk please! i honestly enjoyed writing that so who knows..

[aennasan]

Jealous Papa to Baby Emi (Kenji Sato x Reader)

Synopsis: Yep. The title is basically the fic. I had so much fun with this that it became a bit longer than my usual drabbles and imagines.

🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷

Kenji Sato would never admit it but you know him well enough to say that he is a very jealous man.

However, right now, you are 100% sure that he would never admit it, especially because his number one source of jealousy is his very own kaiju daughter, Emi.

He is not even discreet in showing it. Watching him opening his secret fridge and pretending to count his coco water but his eyes and mind was never even tuned in on the task he had at hand.

His eyes kept straying to you and Emi while you're teaching her about human things. Scowling, lip pouting, and his body emitting a vibe yelling, “When’s me? I want to be next.”

You do your best not to notice or smile as his scowl deepens, he is so funny when he is like this.

At first, you thought he was jealous of Emi becoming a Mama’s girl.

The baby imitating the way you will put your hand on your hips if she’s being sassy, raising an eyebrow if his Papa overreacts about something, crosses her arm and rolls eyes if she's rebelling and the best of it all, is copying your crossed legs whenever you sit on the floor.

Yet, you found out that you were wrong when he suddenly wrapped his arm around your waist, nestled his face on the crook of your neck and asked, “How about Papa, Mama? When are you going to spend your time with me?”

It took you by surprise. And all his actions for the past few days are starting to make sense. His intense clinginess, to the point that he would find you wherever you are alone and wouldn't stop touching you. The way he wouldn't let go of a chance to have you sitting on his lap. Cuddling to the fullest before the baby wakes up crying. He would pout and grumble whenever you remove his hand from you.

Your mind goes “Ohhhhh” finally putting the puzzle pieces together, of his out of pocket intense change in showing his affection.

But before you could even answer, Emi is already throwing a tantrum because you turned your back on her while she was practicing and showing you her dance.

“Must be hard being so popular.” Professor Sato joked once when Kenji was busy scolding Emi for prying his arms away from you. She is scowling, head held high, as she crosses her arms, not looking at his Papa who is now yelling, “Bad girl! You don't act like that in front of your Papa!”

“It is harder knowing that the supposed to be eldest is the one who is acting like a kid.” You gave out a heartfelt chuckle and replied.

“Oh! For sure. He is used to having all the attention only to himself. He probably didn't expect that his competitor would be her own daughter.” He smiled as you two continued to watch their exchange which started to get hilarious the longer it takes.

“Baby, how about dinner, just the two of us, this weekend?” You asked the moment you caught his eyes, your hand resting on your hips, lips curved with a sly knowing smirk.

At first, he whipped his head down fast, immediately pretending to still be counting, while mouthing “Oooooh! I must have drunk a lot of augh….coco water.”

But when he heard the magic word, his head whipped up so fast and he started walking towards you like a dog being told “Do you want to go out?” by its owner.

“Really?” He asked. Purple eyes practically shining with hope and excitement.

“Yeah. I missed you. We haven't gone out together on a date for a while.” Your smile softened when he instinctively leaned forward on your hand when you reached for him to cup his face with pure longing and affection.

“Emi?”

“Professor Sato and Mina would take care of her for us.” You cannot help the way your heart flutters when you see his boyish grin which makes his whole face glow with happiness.

You swallowed the twinge of guilt in your heart when you realized how much he must have felt left out and neglected by you these past few days.

You promised that this weekend would just be about you two. The both of you will enjoy the time of your lives, alone together as you two watch the sun dips on the horizon, your head resting on his shoulder, back pressed comfortably on his chest, while his arms wrapped around you, and his hand playing with your palm. It will be relaxing and you melt just by imagining it.

Or so you two tried your best to compromise.

When Emi saw the both of you dressed to the nines— the plan was to just tell her to be a good girl and bid her goodbye before leaving, she probably felt something was wrong, and the moment the two of you stepped on the glass elevator, preparing to leave, she screamed and threw the biggest tantrum.

The whole building shook from her roar. Her feet kicked the floor so hard that you swore it felt like there was an earthquake.

You and Kenji tried to console her but she didn't stop until Kenji promised that you two are not going to leave and Mama and Papa are going to have a dinner date with Emi.

As if knowing she had won, the baby kaiju stopped immediately and gave out the biggest smile.

Yep, you had been fooled.

So now you found yourselves at the side of the beach. Sitting in front of each other with a candlelight dinner. The sky is a beautiful mix of red, orange, and yellow as it slowly dips on the horizon. The perfect color and atmosphere for a romantic dinner date by the beach.

Except, beside your table is Emi’s own table with her fish, who was happy and chirpy as she looked around. Just content to be with her Mama and Papa. Cheery to be included.

“Come on now. Stop scowling. You're going to age faster with those deep frowns on your forehead.” Joking, you cupped his cheek, reached out to his forehead, and ran your thumb to the lines formed from frustration wanting to smooth it out.

With a deep sigh, he leaned on your hand and his lips formed a long pout.

“But how about a dinner date with just the two of us?” He grumbled.

“Hmmm…I guess maybe we could do that once Emi grew a bit more.” You smiled.

“That will be too long.” He sighed. Exasperated.

“How about sneaking out whenever she is sleeping or busy watching your games?” You compromised.

“We can do that.” He hummed, grabbed your other hand resting on the table, squeezed and kissed the back of it.

Sensing that your attention is not on her, Emi stood up, and started clapping and dancing to the new dance she learned. Mina instantly played one of her favorite songs.

“Show off. Mama’s mine either way.” You let out a laugh when you heard Kenji speak in a hush tone not wanting the baby girl to hear it and had another of her tantrums.

[nanaslutt]

male squirting.... Satoru being overstimulated to the brink of tears ? 😵‍💫♡

contains: fem reader, kiinnndaaaa sub gojo :3, whiny gojo, hand jobs, overstimulation, squirting, multiple orgasms, praise, so much dirty talk, dacraphillia, lots of talk of cum

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

You were scrolling through Twitter and came across a video of a man tied to a chair, naked. A pair of hands that were neatly manicured was jerking him off rapidly, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of his cock. It wasn't anything you hadn't seen on twitter before, but twenty seconds later you would see something new. The woman was jerking him after his orgasm, the man whining and crying, his body trying to jerk away from her touch as he was pushed into overstimulation.

He started pleading with her to slow down, saying something felt weird, and that's when it happened, he squirted. It looked so intense, his body trembling and hunching over as he screamed through another forced orgasm. You squeezed your thighs together feeling yourself grow aroused between your legs, a vivid image popping into your head of trying this with Satoru. You replayed the video over a couple times, pretending the faceless pale man in the chair was your boyfriend, even though they shared no resemblance to one another.

You were sure Satoru would be up to trying something like this, the two of you had a very adventurous sex life and were always sharing new ideas with the other on fun things you could do in the bedroom, and this looked very fun. You quickly copied the link and switched to messages, sending it to your boyfriend who was currently at work. You hoped he wouldn't see your message until he had a break, but you had sent him worse things during worse moments, so it would be fine.

Moments after you had sent the video to Satoru, your phone lit up with his name big and bold on the screen, vibrating in your hand. "Satoru? Why are you calling me at work?" You asked, pressing your phone to your ear. "Tell me you want to do that to me, thats why you sent me that right?" He asked rushed, excitement laced in his tone. From the backround noise from Gojo's end of the call of birds chirping and leaves rusting through the trees with no voices besides his to be heard, you guessed he was supervising sparing and had stepped away.

"I dont think I need to ask if you want to try it then~" You laughed into the receiver. Gojo was currently leaning his head back against a building of Jujutsu high, his eyes scrunched shut as he imagined your hands on him, overstimulating him like the woman had done in the video. "Are you kidding? I'm all over that~" He cracked his eyes open, a smile gracing his features. "My pretty girlfriend making me squirt? didn't even know that was possible, I've been missing out." He sighed.

"Wanna give it a go tonight then? Wouldn't want you to miss out any longer." You said teasingly, biting your lip as you pressed your thighs together once more. "Why wait that long? I get off in an hour, I'll see you and your pretty hands then~" Gojo said singsong like into the phone. The two of you said your goodbyes before you ended the call, your fingers taking you back to the video so you could watch it over and over again, picking up some techniques the woman used that you could use on Satoru."

--

"She used a lot of lube so.. this is gonna get messy." You said, popping open the lid to the lube bottle you kept on your side table. Gojo was laid down on the bed, a towel under his ass as you sat on his thighs, one hand stroking his cute leaking cock, while your other squeezed the plastic bottle, watching the slippery substance drip down onto his cock in thick strands.

Gojo hissed when the cold lubricant came into contact with his dick, keeping his eyes on your slender hands wrapping around him. "If you make me squirt it's gonna get a hell of a lot messier too~" Gojo chimed in, biting his lip when you used one of your hands to wrap around his tip, rolling it around in circular motions in your palm, the other slowly jerking the rest of his massive length. "You will," you assured him, your eyes sliding up to make contact with his.

"Gotta say the safeword If it gets too much, kay Toru?" You asked, making sure he acknowledged your words before things got too intense. "Yeah yeah, F-fuuuck, I won't though~ I can take it." He said confidently, flashing you a cocky smile as you slowly and steadily jerked him off.

"Fuck.." Gojo murmured under his breath, his eyes dropping as he watched you work slowly on his dick, the copious amount of lube you used creating a loud and vulgar slick noise every time your hands moved on him. "It's so wet," Gojo groaned. You could feel his thighs flexing under your ass as he started getting into it. "Yeah? Does it feel good?" You asked, picking up the speed of both your hands a bit. "Yeah.. fuck- feels like I'm inside you." Gojo groaned, his jaw falling open and his breath picking up as he watched you jerk him off, both of your hands now screwing down the length of his cock together, making sure to squeeze at the tip.

"I feel this wet?" You almost laughed, taking note of how the lube coated his balls and was steadily dripping down the insides of his thighs. "You're wetter." He smirked back, his smile quickly fading when you paused one of your hands, opting to rub right under the head of his cock while the other kept jerking him off. You bit your lip, noticing how his eyes were rolling back in his head. "Feel good right here, Toru?" You asked, pressing your thumb into his frenulum with more force, a shaky whimper leaving his lips.

"So fucking good," Satoru praised, pulling his hip between his teeth. You slid the pad of your thumb from his frenulum to the slit on his tip in a smooth rhythm, up and down, up and down, making Satoru groan through clenched teeth. "Oh fuck- keep fucking doing that- sh-it." Gojo was humping his hips into your fist, chasing the stimulation, making your body bounce slightly on top of his thighs. "Satoru quit moving, let me do all the work." You spoke softly, giving his shaft harsh strokes that made him whine.

"Okay- okay, baby- just please don't stop, please." He replied with an aroused smile plastered on his face. You giggled at his desperation, continuing your ministrations on his cock so he didn't grow any needier. "I won't Toru, I got you~" you assured. His head flopped back onto the pillows with a groan when you started stroking him with both hands once again, rotating your hands up and down the length of his cock, making the coil in his tummy rapidly tighten itself up.

"Fuck- fuck me baby fuck-" Satoru whined through his teeth, the words strung together as he tipped his head down, nodding as you jerked his cock quick and rough, making his body wiggle around on the sheets. "You like that? Like when I jerk you off like this?" You cooed, biting your lip as you darted your eyes back and forth between his flushed cock and his pretty face scrunched up in pleasure.

Your words went straight to his cock, if you weren't gripping him so hard you might've been able to feel how hard he twitched in your hands. "God I fucking love it, baby, makin' me feel so g-good." Gojo groaned through his teeth. He really wanted to keep watching you but he physically could not keep his head up anymore. He let his head fall back into the pillows once more, screwing his eyes shut as he let you work him up to his high. "Shit.. I feel it coming pretty girl.." Your boyfriend let you know, his breathing picking up when he felt his balls start to tighten, the warmth in his belly growing warmer and warmer, all telltale signs of his orgasm approaching.

"You got this baby, gonna fuck you through it and you're gonna take what I give you like a good boy, isn't that right?" You spoke sweetly, a teasing tilt to your voice as you hyped him up. He nodded his head against the pillows, keeping his eyes shut, face still screwed in pleasure, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he tried to brace himself for what was to come. "Gonna take it, 'm your good boy, baby~" Satoru responded, trying to smile through his arousal.

You felt his warm cock pulse strongly against your fingers at the same time his breathing stilled, right before the first rope of his cum shot out of his dick and splattered onto his abdomen. Gojo groaned loudly through his teeth, his body jerking inwards at every wave of his orgasm. "Yeah~ Good boy, just like that, keep cumming for me Toru~" You praised, jerking your hands rapidly over his dick, coating your fingers and his cock in his cum, mixing with the lube already smothered on his cock.

"Shit- s-shit- nnghhh-" Gojo groaned through his orgasm, his hips jerking up into your hand as he came. You continued to stroke him through the aftershocks of his high, which was bearable for the first four seconds before he started fighting the pleasure you were giving him. Whines and gasps were being pulled from his lips when you didn't slow down your hands on his cock, keeping up the mean rough pace on his length, simultaneously twisting your palm over his too-sensitive cockhead.

His hips jerked back, into the sheets as he tried to excape your ruthless hands, his chin shot down to his chest as he watched you sit on top of him, lip pulled between your teeth as you tried to work him through his overstimulation. "Ffffffuck!" He finally vocalized, his entire body thrashing and twitching agaisnt the sheets, knees trying to curl upwards, thighs pressing together, anything to excape the overbearing pleasure that wouldn't stop coming.

"You're doing so good baby, so good, don't fight it." You talked him through it, trying to get his overwhelmed brain to slow down. "Oh-ohmygod it's too much-" He cried, his hands heaving the pillows he was gripping next to his head and slapping down on your thighs, digging his nails into the skin there. You swear you saw tears forming in his eyes before he screwed them shut once more, his jaw falling slack as he turned his head back and forth against the pillows, he looked so hot like this.

"You wanna squirt don't you baby? I thought you could take it, must not want it that bad." You teased, trying a different method to instill the confidence in him that he needed in this moment to get through this. "N-no I want it- wanna- wanna squirt-" He whined, his breathing starting to even out, his overstimulation must be fizzling out. "That's right, that's my good boy Toru." You smirked proudly down at him, finally noticing your own arousal that was throbbing between your legs.

"Goddd~ l-love when you call me that~" He giggled, his eyes cracking open as he tilted his head to the side so he could see you, keeping his head pressed into the pillows. You giggled before rubbing your thumb against his frenulum again. His breath hitched, his nails digging into your thigh right before cum shot out of his cock again, weaker this time. The ropes of his seed barely made it to his abdomen, most of it coating your fingers and easing the slide over his cock, making it impossibly more slippery.

"You really like it right here, huh?" You asked, continuing to massage the spot in little circles as you worked his seed out of his shaft. Gojo's body jerked forward, his legs shaking with the intensity of his second orgasm so soon after the first. He stayed silent, his mouth agape as he let you work him through his high. He came down with a gasp, greedily swallowing air into his lungs, panting when he was once again granted the short intermission before his cock was assaulted with your hands overstimulating him.

This time, you did see the tears fall down his cheeks when you didn't stop. The squelches emitting from his cock were sooo loud, so lewd, you guaranteed if you pulled your panties down right now, they would be flooded. The lube and cum created such a mess on your fingers as you rapidly stroked over him, your hand looking like a blur from how fast your pace was. One of Gojo's hands gripped your wrist harshly, almost stopping the movements completely. Good thing you had another hand, you used it to rotate over his tip, slightly punishing him for trying to stop you.

"Baby s-stop- stop I c-cant I c-cant do it-" Gojo cried, fat tears falling over his flushed cheeks, wetting the hair on the side of his face. He didn't say the safeword, but he sounded so desperate so you slowed your hand ever so slightly before you spoke, "This is gonna be the one Toru, just one more and you're gonna squirt for me, promise." You encouraged, nodding at him when he cracked his lids open, teary eyes locking onto yours. "Ohhhhmygod I don't know If- Ugh-" He tried protesting, raking his nails into your thighs.

"You can do it, you're so close baby, so close, it's gonna feel so fucking good." His hand had loosened his grip on your wrist, his head weakly nodding at your words. "I- I think I'm gonna cum already-" His words cut off with a whine, his chest heaving as he took sharp breaths into his lungs, high-pitched wines spilling from his lips as he felt his third orgasm come on. This time it felt a little different, it felt deeper, stronger, he couldn't really explain it, all he could do was take the painful pleasure, letting your hands milk him dry as his tired body tried its best to relax against the sheets.

The towel under his ass was already soaked with cum and lube, and you figured it was about to get a whole lot wetter, you weren't sure why you bothered putting a towel down in the first place.

Gojo started leaking under your thumb, a substance thinner than his cum spurting out of his cock in little amounts. "Baby- baby fuck- It- I cant- I cant-" He wined, losing his composure when he felt it creep over him. This new sensation was taking over his whole body, everything from the tips of his toes to his ears felt flushed, he felt like he was suffocating with how hard it was to take a good breath into his lungs, the feeling making him hyperventilate.

"You can, I got you, baby, I'm right here, let it out, squirt for me Toru~" You encouraged, jerking him off with more vigor, continuing to rub your thumb over his frenulum and flushed tip, steadily leaking the liquid. His thighs rapidly clenched under yours, his chin dropping to his chest to watch his dick, his intense eyes waiting to see something miraculous happen right when his orgasm hit. And fuck did something happen.

A clear liquid sprayed out of his cock, the stream coming out stuttered as you jerked him through it, moaning with him. "Oh my god you're doing it baby, good fucking job, fucking give it to me Toru~" You groaned, slamming your hands down on the length of his cock, fucking his orgasm out of him. He was being so loud, you were lucky your neighbors lived a good distance away, or they might call the cops because it seriously sounded like someone was being tortured, and in a way, he was.

His body shook and trembled, even after you slowed your hands on him. Tears streamed down his bright red face as his eyes fought to stay forward in their sockets, his hands weakly twitching against your thighs, nails digging into the skin. You leaned forward, wiping your hands off on the bed sheets before you took his teary face in your hands, pressing kisses to his open mouth, sweaty forehead, blushed nose, anywhere your lips could touch.

"Good boy Toru, good fucking boy." You giggled, wiping his tear-soaked hair away from his face as his glossy eyes made eye contact with yours, his hands wrapping around your waist. "How did that feel? Was it everything you thought it would be?" You giggled. His body twitched under you, your boyfriend's chest still heaving up and down rapidly. "Better, I love you, l-love you." He stuttered, closing his eyes as you pressed kisses to his tearstain cheeks and eyelids.

"C-couldn't have done that without you." He whispered, wrapping his arms around your body and pressing your weight onto him, his sticky cock sticking to your clothes in the process, but you would worry about that later, Satoru needed your utmost attention to calm down right now. "I love you too, my amazing boy~" You praised, letting him pull you tighter, your head digging into his neck as you pressed little kisses into the skin there.

[imtryingbuck]

His Flower.

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky and Y/n have known each other since they were babies, they love each other but don’t say anything until Bucky goes to war.

Word count: 11,963

Warnings: angst. fluff. mentions of cheating (not Bucky) mentions of domestic abuse. Swearing. Steve never visits Peggy when she’s old. Bucky knew about Steve getting the serum. Pregnancy. Sad Bucky (that’s a warning in itself) Bucky was accused of the bombing in Vienna in 2015 in this. Blip happens but none of the avengers get blipped nor do any of them die. There’s a lot…so if I’ve missed anything please let me know

Masterlist

May 21st 1922

“Y/n stop running!”

“No”

“Why?”

“You have the lurgy”

Winnie and Y/m/n was standing in the shared courtyard laughing at the two five year olds as James ran after Y/n, the latter running as fast as her little legs could move.

The two women became friends rather quickly after Y/n, her mom and dad moved in next door just when Y/n was a year old. Baby James and Y/n spent everyday since they were introduced to each other, together.

“Those two…” Winnie laughed with a shake of her head as James finally grabs ahold of Y/n, her screams of laughter makes both mothers laugh along.

That was until the screams of laughter turns in to screams of pain.

James tripped over a loose concrete slab, in turn knocking into Y/n causing her to fall face first on the ground. Smacking her face and cracking her tooth.

“I-I-I’m sor-sorry Y/n I’m sorry” James cried backing up as their mothers came rushing over. His tiny hands shook as tears streamed down his puffy cheeks, he could see the blood flowing from her lips when her mom picked her up.

“Mo-momma it wa-was acciden-t I promise”

“I know sweetie, it’s okay” Winnie said after she helped her friend. Seeing her son shaking and crying as he backs up to the wall furthest away from them broke her heart, she and Y/m/n knew it was an accident and they both knew that James would never hurt his friend.

“I-it was accident” he hiccuped.

“Wan’ Jamie, mama wan’ Jamie”

Hearing her teary voice he pushed himself off the wall and ran around his ma going straight to Y/n. “I got you” whispering in to her hair as he wraps his arms around her.

December 24th 1922

As the fire crackled next to James and Y/n as they played with his toy trains and cars Y/n’s parents argued in the kitchen, from what Y/n could tell from this latest argument was that her dad had been fucking another woman. Again.

“Jamie what fucking mean?”

“I don’t know. I think it makes you cry”

“Mama always cries when dada fucking other women”

James shrugs, honestly feeling a little bit scared because of the raised voices and things being slammed down on the counters though he was just five years old he was trying to be brave in front of his friend.

The voices got louder as Y/n’s mom was pushing her dad into the hallway, screaming at him that this was the last time and for him to never come back. A photo frame that hung up on the wall falls and smashes loudly on the floor causing James to flinch, Y/n notices and takes his hand in hers smiling - she’s grown accustomed to the bangs, screaming matches and things being broken that it doesn’t bother her anymore.

James flinched once again when the front door opens and slams shut with a deafening bang. His scared wide eyes looked at Y/n’s, she gets up and moves to sit next to him as her mom screams once more and stomps up the stairs no doubt to chuck all of her fathers clothes out of the window.

“I got you”

She promised as she wraps her small arms around his body.

March 10th 1923

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY JAMIE”

Y/n screamed as she ran over to him, she was so excited for his birthday she had made him a card and got him a new wooden train.

“Ahhh who are you little monster?” He screamed when she jumped on his back.

“‘M not a monster”

“You are”

“Not”

“Are”

“Kids stop arguing, you’re both monsters” Winnie laughed hugging Y/m/n.

“It’s my birthday Flower”

“No it’s my birthday”

“No it isn’t”

Both moms roll their eyes as the kids continue to argue, heading into the kitchen leaving both of them to stand in the hallway arguing.

Y/m/n was sipping the coffee that Winnie had made her, Winnie expressed how happy she was for her friend for not taking back her husband, though finding it sad that he hadn’t been around to see Y/n. Luckily George stepped up and had even brought the five year old a present for Christmas.

“Mama where is present?” Y/n asked running up to her mom.

“Here sweetie and here’s the card you made” handing over the present and card, Y/n smiled and thanked her.

“Here you go Jamie. I made the card all by myself!”

“Thank you Flower” opening the card he smiles at her messy handwriting and the drawing of him and her that she drew. James gave her a kiss on her cheek before handing the card over to Winnie, then he opened the brown paper wrapping. “Flower…”

“It’s a train Jamie”

“I-thank you so much!” James had his other one stolen from Jimmy who lived across the street, mean kid who loved to bully younger kids.

“It’s okay. Do you like it?”

“I love it Flower”

June 2nd 1930

James and Y/n were walking down the street talking about how school went when James grabbed her hand causing her to pull it away and blush, giggling when he tried to grab her again.

“Flower stop, listen do you hear that?”

“No-wait now I do, what is it? Do you think it’s an animal? Can we keep it?”

“Yeah because animals can speak” he rolls his eyes, moving towards the entrance of the alleyway where the noise was coming from he turned to Y/n “stay here-“

“No I’m coming with you!”

“No you’re not. Just stay here”

Nodding in defeat Y/n watched him walk down the alleyway, a few minutes later she sees Jimmy and his goons running out and down the street. Running in the direction that James went she came to a halt when she saw him picking up a guy who was a lot smaller than him.

“Jamie who’s that?”

“Flower I told you stay where I told you to”

“Who is that?”

“M-my names Steve” the blonde said fixing his shirt.

“Hello Steve my names Y/n and this is James” moving closer to them she held her hand out to the blonde, turning to James “can we keep him?”

“Y/n he’s not an animal”

“But can we? We can be best friends forever and ever and ever and-“

“I’m sorry about her, she gets a bit excited sometimes” James said to Steve both watching Y/n go bright red as she continued to say ‘and ever’. “Flower breath”

“And ever and ever, please Jamie can we keep him I’ll be good forever and ever and ever-“

“Do you want to be our friend? Please say yes just to shut this one up”

Steve looked at both of them debating whether or not this was a prank, he’d gotten so use to being alone that the prospect of having two new friends scared him. But he could see the hopeful look in Y/n’s and James’s eyes, maybe just maybe this wasn’t a prank and maybe they genuinely want to be his friend.

“So…” Y/n asked getting impatient.

“O-ok, yes I’ll be your friend”

“Amazing! Come on we’re going to Mollys to get a burger-“

“And a milkshake! Have you ever been to Mollys? They make the best milkshake ever don’t they Jamie, they do so Stevie I swear”

“I apologise for her” James started.

Steve just smiled and shook his head “it’s okay bu-but I don’t have any money so I can’t come with you”

“Don’t worry about it Stevie I’ll pay for you. My father’s dead so we got money” Steve’s eyes went wide at how nonchalantly Y/n said that her father was dead.

“I-I’m sorry-“

“Don’t be I didn’t like him, so what milkshake do you want? They have vanilla, chocolate and strawberry. My favourite is strawberry and chocolate and Jamies is chocolate”

“Oh I-I’ve never had-“

James rolled his eyes as he knew what was coming. Steve looked at him wondering what he had said wrong when Y/n loudly gasped and threw herself on the ground.

“Flower-“

“He. Has. Never. Had. Milkshake. Before. Jamie”

“I know-“

“I-how, how does this even happen?”

“You going to get off the floor?”

“I can’t”

James leans over to take her hand in his and helped her stand. “Next time don’t throw yourself on the ground, your ma will get mad at you for ruining your skirt again”

“Come on Steve I’m going to blow your mind with the best milkshake in the world” ignoring James’s words she grabbed Steve’s hand and started to drag him to Mollys.

“Flower stop dragging him and be careful!”

To be truthful Steve didn’t honestly mind that she was dragging him along the pavement, he was quite excited about trying something new.

“Sooo whatcha think?” Y/n asked as soon as the glass was put in front of him.

“Flower he hasn’t even tried it yet” James laughed though he did have to admit that he was also wondering what his new friend was going to think of the drink.

Taking the straw in his mouth he took slow sips, liking the way it tasted straight away. “It’s good, I like it”

“Yes!” Y/n screamed causing some of the customers to look at her, not like she cared.

Luanne came over to serve them, she was an older lady who had grown use to the antics that James and Y/n liked to cause. As soon as she saw the two coming down the street she always had their milkshakes at the ready, knowing that on Monday, Tuesday and Friday Y/n had strawberry and the other days chocolate.

“Your usual darlings?”

“Yes please, Stevie what do you want?”

“I-I don’t have mo-“

“It’s on me I told you. We get burger and fries and they are the best”

“I-are you sure?”

“The best ever I promise”

“N-no about buying me food…you’ve already brought me a drink”

“Don’t be silly, do you want the same at us?”

“Okay, thank you”

Luanne smiled and walked away back to behind the counter. Steve watched as James or Bucky as he told him to call him, put his arm around Y/n’s shoulder and point at someone walking down the street. He couldn’t help but smile when Y/n laughed at whatever Bucky had said.

The food had come and true to her word it was amazing, Luanne came back over to hand them new drinks winking at Y/n who winked back, he found out that the second milkshakes were free. For the first time in Steve’s life he laughed and smiled genuinely, he had no idea that being beat up in some dingy alleyway would lead him to be making two new friends who actually seemed like they cared about him already.

Steve knew he had made two friends for life.

14th February 1931

“Hey Stevie” Y/n sang as she skipped up to him.

“Hey Y/n/n you still doing that?” Referring to her skipping, it was a new phase she was going through. Every where she went she skipped.

“Of course” she giggled.

“Where’s Bucky?”

“With his girlfriend” she grumbled. Poor James thought his best friend liked his girlfriend but Steve observant as always knew that this was indeed not the case.

“Yo-you still don’t like her I guess?”

“No. Are you okay? Is your eczema play-“

“Asthma, Y/n I have asthma”

“Oh yeah ah, is it playing up today?” Receiving a nod she nods too. “How about we walk super slow so you can catch your breath”

“I-I need to g-get back to home, n-need to help ma cle-clean up”

“That’s okay I’ll help you and your mom I don’t mind”

“A-ar-are you sure?”

“Of course, plus I’ve missed your mom”

Arriving at the Rogers’s residence Sarah greeted Y/n with a tight hug and a kiss to her cheek happy to see the young girl again. Ten minutes into cleaning Y/n told Steve to sit down as his asthma was getting worse, Sarah tried to help out but Y/n just shook her head and told her that it was fine.

She truly didn’t mind helping in cleaning up, she had grown use to having to do it at home since her mom was always working and her step father was too lazy and drunk most of the time to do it.

A year after kicking her father out of the house for the last time her mom got divorced from him as he was wanting to marry the woman he had been cheating on her with. Unfortunately her mom married another lazy man who only thought of himself.

But her mom was happy so Y/n was happy for her.

When her father died for some reason her mom received all his money. Which it had annoyed his new wife tremendously.

“It’s getting late darling, you should head home-oh just before you go here’s some mon-“

“No need to Mrs Sarah, I’ll see you tomorrow Stevie”

Waving goodbye and leaving the house before Sarah could argue about giving her money, skipping down the street she didn’t realise how dark it was when she was in the warm home that belonged to the Rogers.

As she got closer to home she came to a stop when she heard strange noises come from an alleyway, choosing to inspect the sounds she crept down the dark path, furrowing her eyebrows at hearing two different voices she was about to pop her head around before freezing.

“Oh Bucky” a girl moaned.

Slapping her hand across her mouth she started to stumble back. Of course she knew that James was going to be having sex, he was handsome and every girl wanted him, and of course she knew what they was doing she wasn’t stupid but hearing what followed after the girl moaned broke her heart.

He called his girlfriend Flower.

The name that he had always called her he was now calling someone else it. It was her nickname that he gave her since they was four and now he was calling some girl he had been dating for two months her name.

It broke her heart.

For three weeks she had managed to successfully avoid James she knew it was silly for not talking to her best friend over a nickname that he had every right to call someone else but she just couldn’t help but feel down knowing that she wasn’t his flower anymore.

“Y/n, Bucky and Steve’s here for you” her mom shouted from the door, she could hear her talking to them from where she was stood at from the top of the stairs.

Her heart dropped when her mom told both boys just to head up to her room. Scrambling and knocking over her little brother she ran into her room, shutting the door quietly before jumping on the springy mattress causing the metal bed frame to squeak loudly.

“Knock knock little monster” she could hear the smile in his voice.

“Come in” and she also knew that he would be frowning at her response, it wasn’t the usual one she gave him.

“Hi Flower” if he noticed her tensing he didn’t say anything about it.

“Hi Y/n/n”

“Hi boys. What are you doing here?”

“Missed you, you haven’t been around much” James said watching her reaction.

“I’ve been busy” she shrugged. It wasn’t a total lie but wasn’t the whole truth either.

“Doing?” James knew that she was lying, whenever she did she could never look him in the eyes.

“Things”

“What kind of things?”

“Things James! I do not understand why you are so nosey”

“Because I miss my Flower” stating it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He frowned when she flinched at his nickname for her. “W-what was that for? Why did you flinch”

“I-I don’t know what your talking about”

“You flinched when I called you Flower”

“You did Y/n” Steve interrupted, he did hate having to come in between his best friends but he knew that if he didn’t it would probably go on and on.

“I-“ sighing with a huff she shrugged her shoulders. She knew James better than anyone she knew he wasn’t going to give up any time soon. “I heard you”

“Heard me? What are you talking about?”

“Calling your girlfriend Flower”

“I-I’ve never-”

“In the alleyway when you were having sex”

Steve shifted awkwardly on his feet whilst James stood still like a statue. He couldn’t understand what the problem was, so what he was having sex at least it was with his girlfriend, why would his best friend be upset about that?

“You called her Flower James.”

Oh. Oh shit.

“I-you-it-“

“Whatever it’s just a nickname right? I’m sorry that I haven’t spoken to you in weeks but it hurt Jamie, but she’s your girlfriend-“

“I broke up with her”

“Right…so can we be friends again?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I broke up with her?”

“No. I just want to be your flower again”

“You’ve always have been Y/n, nobody will take that away from you”

Sliding off the bed she jumped on James, wrapping her arms and legs around him hugging him like she had never done before.

Yes it hurt because he had called someone else the name he had given her but she realised she was being silly for not talking to him over it, he was her best friend as well as Steve and that’s all that mattered.

December 10th 1941

The Second World War had been going on for three years and now America was getting involved after the attack on Pearl Harbour, it’s all everyone spoke about, before there was young men leaving their homes and families to go over to Britain to help fight, a fight they had no reason to be apart off other than to help beat the bad guys, now no one had a choice but to fight.

When James told Y/n that he too enlisted in the army it crushed her heart, she knew he was doing it to help defend his country but that didn’t stop her from being scared. Scared of losing him.

“I can do this all day” Steve panted as the guy tried to get closer to him and Y/n. Y/n couldn’t help but roll her eyes at Steve’s confidence, she knew that he could not in fact do this all day. His asthma was getting the better of him.

Just as Steve was about to leap forward to defend himself and Y/n the guy was pulled away by the scruff of his jacket.

“Pick on someone your own size” James kicked the guy away, watching as the bully scramble away.

Y/n and Steve stood there frozen on the spot at seeing James dressed in his uniform.

It was really happening. She was going to lose her best friend.

“Why are you wearing that?”

“Because I’m a pirate. I’ve been recruited Flower, I ship out tomorrow” though James had a smile on his face his stomach churned at reminding himself of when he was going to fight, churned at not knowing when he was going to see his Flower or Steve again or if he ever would.

“Tomorrow? T-that’s not enough time-no Jamie you can’t-“

“I have to Y/n-“

“Tell them no.”

“You want me to tell the US Army no?”

“Yes”

“Flower”

“Or I’ll do it if your to chicken”

“Chicken? Really?”

“Guys stop arguing.” Steve tried to intervene but it was too late. He watched as his two best friends argued back and forth, feeling annoyed at the fact that he had been rejected once again no matter what name he used or what area he said he was from. And yet his best friend had been accepted by the Army and was allowed to go and fight against the bad guys.

“Anyway come on, we’re going to the Stark Expo”

What James failed to mention to the pair that he had a date with Connie or was it Bonnie? He couldn’t actually remember but whoever he was going on a date with the other girl was for Steve, he felt slightly bad that Y/n would have to be fifth wheeling even if he knew that she would end up leaving under the arm of some guy.

“-so I told him that he had to look after his own children you know? And guess what he said to me-Stevie? Ste-not again” Y/n muttered when she realised that not only had she been talking to herself for god knows how long, but when she turned around she saw the small frame of her best friend going into a recruiting tent that was set up at the Expo.

Following after him she watched as he went into a small makeshift room, entering she laughed when Steve tried to cover his naked chest.

“Steve seriously? You can’t keep doing this-“

“Why not? I can fight, just because I’m smaller then everyone including you doesn’t mean that I can’t help“

“You’d be killed straight away Steven!”

“So what?”

“So what? Steve-“

“I’ve agreed to be part of a science project for a doctor-“

“A science project? Steve what the hell are you talking about?”

“I-it doesn’t matter what does matter is that I’ve been accepted and I’m going to war”

“No. I forbid you from going”

“Forbid me?” Steve scoffed finding her behaviour stupid. He wanted to do that right thing and she was forbidding it. Ridiculous. “You can’t stop me Y/n”

“I-I don’t want to lose you too”

“What are you talking about? Buck will be fine”

“He might not Steve you don’t know this. I can’t-don’t want to lose my best friends please just stay with me here an-and wait for Ja-“

“No Y/n I’m doing this! Stop being selfish”

Being called selfish had whatever response she was going to reply back with to die on her tongue. Y/n was called selfish time and time again by her step father when she wouldn’t look after her siblings, his children. She had grown to detest that word, hated to be called it which James and Steve knew.

Steve instantly knew that he had messed up but before he could apologise he watched his best friend nod, spin on her heels and walked out.

James looked around with a smile on his lips when the flying car got higher off the ground frowning when he didn’t see Flower or Steve, his eyes darted around to find them, his left eye twitched slightly when he saw Y/n coming out of the recruiting tent he knew she had probably tried to talk to Steve out of signing up. 

Ever since the war was declared Steve had become slightly obsessed with going on the front lines along with the rest of the hero’s and fight. James and Y/n took it in turns to get Steve away from the recruiting centres, took it in turns comforting him when he got turned down because of his health problems.

Leaving the girls where they were he went to find Steve to see what had happened. “Steve seriously man just give up”

“Don’t start Buck I’ve had enough of Y/n trying to stop me.” Steve told Bucky how Dr Erskine had given him the opportunity of joining the war to the whole conversation between him and Y/n, he quietly told his best friend that he had called their friend selfish.

“You called her selfish? Steve!”

“I know okay I know I messed up but-“

“Did she say where she was going?”

“No, I thought she was going to find you”

Bucky goes to reply when he gets interrupted by the two girls that he and Steve were meant to be on a date with, asking if they were still going dancing, James sighed before telling them no he had other plans. The girls wasn’t happy but James didn’t care, he needed to find his Flower.

Saying his goodbyes to Steve he turned on his heels to go to Y/n’s house.

Knocking on the door he waited patiently for someone to open, Y/n’s little sister opened and smiled instantly showing Bucky her missing front teeth. “Y/ns in her room”

“Thanks little one”

“‘M not little anymore!” She pouted, the same pout that reminded him of Y/n’s when she was younger.

“No, no you’re not” ruffling her hair he laughed when she tried to hit him, he’s always had a habit of winding up their younger siblings.

Bounding up the stairs nearly tripping over the toy train that belonged to her younger brother he turned the corner and knocked on Y/n’s bedroom door.

“Go away”

“Wow that’s rude Flower”

“Jamie?”

“Who else is calling you flower?”

“No one”

“Are you going let me in or we going to keep talking with a door in between us?”

“You may enter”

Entering her bedroom his heart clenched in his chest at seeing her eyes and cheeks red, tear strained track marks on her puffy cheeks. Ever since they were young he’s always hated seeing her cry.

His stomach dropping when he sees the photograph in her hands, knowing exactly which one it was. James had dragged Y/n and Steve to Coney Island for the day, James made Steve go on the Cyclone which was absolutely terrifying yet amazing at the same time. Steve didn’t quite enjoy it like Bucky or Y/n as he vomited pretty much everywhere.

Winnie, had taken the photo that morning they were standing outside the home James grew up in, smiling at the camera. Y/n in the middle of the two guys, Bucky had his arm around her shoulder and she had hers around Steve.

It was the only photo she had of the three of them.

“Flower…”

“He’s leaving me too, a doctor-a scientist has told him that he can join if he takes part in an experiment James. I-I don’t want to lose you both Jamie”

“Hey-hey your not losing either one of us doll-“

“But I am. This war is dangerous and if I lose either one of you I-I-“

“I promise you that I’ll come back-“

“You can’t promise me that Buck”

“I’m with you ‘til the end of the line, you know this. And I’ll always come back to you Y/n, always. Especially if you let me make an honest woman out of you” his voice went quieter, serious, hopeful that she would hear the genuine words that he spoke.

“You…want to-after going on a date with someone else on your last night of freedom-want to make an honest woman out of me?”

“I, yes. Y/n flower it’s always been you”

“I should be the one making an honest woman out of you-wait-what?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at her facial expression when she finally registers his words “I’ve been in love with you for so long Y/n”

“And you’re telling me this the night before you ship off to god knows where?”

“You know me Flower, I’ve always been good with timing”

“You really aren’t” she laughed.

“Am too. But what do you say? When I get back I’ll marry you, get us a nice house maybe on a farm? We can have all the animals you want-yes even a dinosaur even though they don’t exist-and we’ll have children, and we can be happy forever”

“Y-you really want that with me?”

“There’s no one else in this world that I want that life with Flower”

Instead of verbally answering she threw herself into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and nodding so fast Bucky thought her head might fall off. Bucky held her face in between his hands just staring at her, he knew that she would never see herself in the same way he has always seen her, he lent in pressing his lips to hers hopefully being able to show her how much he loved her without saying those words out loud.

That night they slept arm in arm with one another both equally dreading for the sun to come up.

When the sun finally made an appearance, he left with the promise that he would be back in an hour so that their families could walk him to the docks, and not without stealing another kiss from her.

Hand in hand an hour later with Winnie, Rebecca, Y/m/n, Y/n’s stepdad and siblings met up with Steve who was waiting outside Mollys with three milkshakes. Everyone walked ahead whilst the three best friends walked slowly behind them, wanting to try and delay the inevitable.

“My promise still stands Flower, I’ll come home and we’ll have the perfect life together. I promise”

“You best come home to me then Jamie or I’ll beat you up”

“Wouldn’t doubt that for a second” he chuckled, everyone else joins in. “I promise to be safe and come home to you Flower. And I’ll write to you when I can okay?”

“I’ll write back to you I promise.”

When the last signal called for all soldiers to get on the ship, Bucky swallowed the sob that tried to make its way out of his plumb lips. Hugging his ma and sister one last time, and his best friends mom and siblings before making his way to Steve, hugging Steve he asked the blonde to look after Y/n which Steve promised he would. Standing in front of Y/n he smiled sadly and wiped her tears away before kissing her one last time, he’d already grown addicted to the way she tasted and the way her lips fit perfectly against his.

He couldn’t wait until he got back so he could spend the rest of his life kissing her.

March 15th 1942

“Y/n there’s a letter here for you!” Her little sister shouted from the bottom of the stairs, there was only one person that would be writing to her, hearing her sister she fell out of the bed with how fast she was trying to get out of it, running down the stairs she grabbed the letter out of her sisters hand.

“Y/n slow down” her mom tried to warn her but it was no use she was already running back upstairs. The excitement getting the better of her. Ripping open the envelope she settled back on her bed.

***

Dear Flower,

It’s been three months since I last saw you and I’m missing you more and more everyday, how are you? Have you been missing me? How’s Steve been? I’ve wrote to him too but I know you’ll tell me the truth.

I’m still holding on to my promise I made so don’t be finding any other man, please.

I’m sorry it’s not the longest letter but I don’t have much time, I’m sorry.

I love you Flower, I should have told you that the last time I saw you but just know I do with all my heart, I’ll see you soon.

All my love

Your Jamie.

***

“So…what did he say?” Y/n was so engrossed in the letter she didn’t hear her bedroom door squeak open or see her mom and sister standing in the doorway.

“H-he said he loves me, momma he loves me”

“Have you only just noticed?”

“What?”

“That boy has been in love with you for as long as I can recall” her mom said as matter of factly.

“I-I need paper a-an-and a pen I need to tell him that I love him too”

Her mom smiled before handing her a piece of paper and a pen that she hid behind her back, she even gave her money so she could get a stamp to put on the letter.

***

Dear Jamie,

I love you.

I’ve been doing good, helping down at the factory with the rest of the women it’s good, I’ve made a friend her names Dot her husband is also fighting, she’s got two kids and Jamie they are the cutest little kids I’ve seen! Of course I have been missing you Jamie! Steve’s doing okay, he’s got a crush on a British woman names Peggy (but don’t tell him I told you that) she’s pretty, smart and really nice. I think she likes him too!

No other man will take me away from you Jamie I promise, I can’t wait to marry you and be able to wind you up for the rest of our lives together, I’m joking. Or am I?

Don’t apologise for your letter being short, anything is better than not having any from you, as long as you are okay and safe that’s all that matters to me.

I love you with all my heart to Jamie, honestly and truly.

Be safe and come home to me.

All my love

Your Flower.

***

Folding the letter and sliding it in an envelope her mom had given her when she was writing, she slipped her letter into the envelope sealing it off she ran downstairs slipping her shoes on she ran out of the house and down the street to the post office.

“A-a s-stamp pl-please” she panted at the worker.

The second the stamp was sealed securely on her envelope she posted it. Her heart raising rapidly, the temptation to just stand there and wait for the mailman to collect all the letters was there until someone cleared their throat from behind her.

“Sorry, I’m sorry” she muttered before leaving, now she just had to wait now until Bucky wrote her back. Shouldn’t be too long. Hopefully.

June 21st 1943

She last received a letter from James three months ago, he told her where he was and how he was doing, told her all about his comrades, told her that he’d come back to her. Ended that letter like the rest, with him telling her how much he loved her. Writing back as quickly as possible she told him how things were going, telling him about her news friends from the factory, and like all the others she ended it with telling him how much she loved him.

Everyday for three months she waited patiently for a letter to come, sighing deeply when she never received one. She was starting to get nervous at the prospect of something bad happening to him, but she kept pushing that thought away as she saw Rebecca everyday at the factory and she hadn’t said anything to her.

Six months after James left for war Y/n moved to a small apartment above the post office, it was small but enough for just her. One night after finishing her shift at the factory, Mary who worked at the post office came running out to her handing her a letter, Y/n ran up the stairs struggled to open her front door like always before she managed to get it to open, quickly closing and locking the door - keeping her promise to James who had made her promise to keep her front door locked at all times.

***

Dear Flower,

I’ve missed you terribly. How are you? I hope you’re okay and safe.

How’s Steve doing? He’s not been really responding to my letters. I’m a bit worried about him.

I’m sorry my letters are getting shorter, it’s just things have been hectic lately.

You’re in my thoughts and prayers every day and night, I’ll come home soon and I’m all yours forever I promise.

I love you more than anything Y/n.

All my love

Your Jamie.

***

Wiping her tears she moved to get her paper and pen, settling on her couch she started to write.

***

Dear Jamie,

I’m missing you more and more every day, I’m doing okay and I’m safe, you do not need to worry about me just as long as you are safe and sound that’s all that matters to me.

Steve will be getting the serum tomorrow (22nd June) I’m scared for him but Peggy has told me that everything will be okay. She’s even said I can come along too, Rebecca has said she will cover my shift because she’s an angel. Steve’s been busy but he’s okay I promise, oh…he jumped on a grenade BUT don’t worry it wasn’t a real one! I screamed and cried when Peggy told me, then I smacked Steve…he deserved it.

I’ve already told you not to worry about the shortness of your letters, I reread every single one of them over and over again.

You’re in my thoughts and prayers day in and day out.

I love you more and more than you’ll ever know. 

All my love

Your Flower.

***

Sealing the letter in the envelope she unlocked the door and skipped downstairs where Mary unlocked the door and handed her a stamp, Mary knew the routine that Y/n had every time she got a letter that she waited long after closing so her new friend could post it that same day.

“Thanks Mary”

“Don’t need to thank me, how is he?”

“He didn’t say…but he said he misses me, it’s hectic over there so”

“It’s understandable, are you meeting Steve and that Brit tomorrow?”

“Peggy-“ Y/n laughed “-and yes, it’s a very big day tomorrow”

“What’s happened again?”

“H-he has a special operation and I’m just going for emotional support” she smiled, Peggy told her not to say anything to anyone but Mary had overheard Y/n talking to Steve about it. So she told her Mary that it was an operation he was having.

“Well I hope it goes well. I’ll see you tomorrow, goodnight darling”

The next morning Y/n waited outside for Steve and Peggy to show up, nearly ten minutes later a sleek black car pulled up and Peggy got out greeting her. Instantly regretting sitting in the middle of two people who were flirting, made worse by Steve as he didn’t realise that Peggy was in fact flirting.

Just like the car ride Y/n blanked out most of what Dr Erskine was waffling on about, her eyes kept going to the bed where Steve lay strapped in to Howard Stark, still slightly star struck.

Everything happened next was lost on her. Her heart raced when she heard Steve screaming in the chamber, a beast of a man was released from said chamber it looked like Steve, her best friend Stevie but this guy was huge. Strong. Muscly. Taller.

Before Steve had to look up to her and now it was the other way around. He said her name and smiled, he pulled her into his arms as she gaped at her best friend’s transformation. Steve released her to look at Peggy as she moved closer.

The unmistakable bang of a gun firing sounded in the room, Steve wasted no time in knocking Y/n on the ground covering her body with his. Dr Erskine had been shot, Steve took off barefoot after the gunman, Y/n’s hands were drenched in blood as she tried to put pressure on the wound, Howard Stark helping her by covering his hands over hers.

It all happened in a blur.

It all happened to fast.

She didn’t like it, she was scared.

She wanted Jamie.

She was always safe with her Jamie.

“Y/n? Y/n look at me love, it’s Peggy. I need you to concentrate”

But she couldn’t. There was too much blood. There was chaos in the background and the only thing she could focus on was the shaking of her hands covered in someone else’s blood.

“Y/n please darling snap out of it” that sounded a lot like Howard she thought to herself.

She could hear them talking then she saw Howard standing and moving away slowly. Then everything came into focus. The look of distress in Peggy’s eyes, the destruction of the room, the white sheet covering a body.

“S-Steve?”

“He’s, he’s okay. We need to go love”

“I-I-I want Jamie”

“I know but he isn’t here right now an-and he will be rather mad at me if I don’t get you out of here, so please follow me”

Despite the blood on Y/n’s hands Peggy still took them in hers and helped her stand, although Peggy didn’t really know Y/n all that well she knew that Steve cared deeply for her, making her care about the woman. Her main focus was getting Y/n to safety and then she could worry about everything else.

December 10th 1944

It’s been well over a year since Y/n watched Dr Erskine get shot and killed, in that year she went back to work in the factory. Nothing really changed for her in that year that had gone by, months would go by without a letter from Bucky she knew that he was still alive as his family wasn’t informed to state that he was dead.

It brought her some relief. But that didn’t stop the sadness from sinking in when she didn’t get a letter.

Steve had become a circus monkey for America, gaining himself the name Captain America. When she saw one of his shows for the very first time she couldn’t stop laughing. The outfit. The way he looked so unsure and uncomfortable. The music. The acting. It was laughable.

“Stop laughing Y/n” Steve said walking into the tent as she followed behind him.

“I-god you look ridiculous Stevie”

“Stop laughing!” He tried to act mad but her laugh had his lips turning upwards. For Steve it had been a long time since he heard her laugh like that. He missed it.

In October of 1943 Steve showed up at her apartment acting different, he was quieter, avoided talking about Bucky. Y/n had asked him if there was something wrong but all he did was give her a tight lipped smile and shook his head.

He wanted to tell her that he was told that Bucky and his unit had been captured as POWs, he wanted to reassure her that he was going to do everything in his power to get him back, to bring him home to her so they could get the life he’s knows they’ve always wanted with each other. 

But he just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to say them words and see her smile fade, tears gather in her eyes so he remained silent and listened to her rambling about something one of the girls said at work.

He couldn’t fail her, he was going to bring Bucky back no matter what it took.

Unbeknownst to Y/n not only was Bucky captured and then saved by their once scrawny little friend but that in ten minutes there was going to be a knock at the door and she’d be taken by two soldiers to go somewhere.

“It’s like I’m invisible” Bucky mutters when Peggy doesn’t even give him a second glance, he found it funny that Peggy had to practically spell it out for the blonde to understand what she was trying to hint. He knew that if Y/n was here and saw the exchange she would have been smiling so wide with her hands clasped together against her heart.

A small smile made its way to his lips as he thought about Y/n, his Flower. As soon as he got back to camp from being saved by Steve he went straight to his tent and wrote a letter to her, sealing it up in an envelope he got from one of the soldiers, giving it to the person he needed to for it to be sent off. Already excited for her letter. He missed her more than anything.

“You thinking about her Buck?” Steve’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Of course, she’s always on my mind-what?”

“Who’s always on your mind?”

“Ms Potts from down the street-“ he rolled his eyes “-Y/n, you’re an idiot sometimes Steve I swear”

“I’m always on your mind Jamie?”

Bucky’s eyes went wide looking Steve in the eyes, the blonde just smiled at him. Slowly turning around, his heart thumped loudly in his chest, blood rushing in his ears he turned to find the source of the voice he has missed hearing.

Well aware that his unit, his team, strangers that became friends were standing around, he didn’t care if they saw their Sergeant with tears gathering in his eyes.

He didn’t care about anything other than Y/n who was currently standing in front of him. Her flower print dress fit perfectly, lightly moving as she stands there. Her eyes focused on him as he took her in, god she was so beautiful.

“F-Flower?”

“Hi Jamie”

“Wha-how-your really here? I’m not dreaming again am I?”

“No” she giggled, the sound making his heart tingle.

“If you don’t kiss her I will” Dum Dum shouted making everyone laugh. But not Bucky. No it made him move quicker than he’d ever moved before, cupping her face in his hands he smiled before placing his lips to hers. Steve joined in with everyone else as they cheered and clapped. 

“You’re really here” Bucky whispered against her lips, resting his forehead against hers breathing in her scent.

“I’m really here”

That night he took her to his hotel room that they had been allowed to stay at, and made love to her for the first time. Three times that night. One more time before they had to say goodbye to each other again.

Just as she was about to get into the car Bucky kissed her one last time, and got down on one knee, proposing to her with a metal nut - that he had found in the room they shared - asking her to marry him before she could answer he promised that once he was back he’d buy her a ring.

Kissing him she held out her hand for him to slid the nut onto her finger.

“I’m getting married to my Flower” he said as the car that carried his love away. Steve smiled at his best friend’s happiness.

January 28th 1945

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Dot asked Y/n as she threw up for the second time that day.

“I’m okay. Must have been something I ate”

“You sure? Didn’t you say you saw James last month?”

“Yes…why?”

“Did you two…you know”

“Wha-oh, yes, a few times” she admitted, her cheeks going bright red.

“Do you think? Maybe? Right?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You might be pregnant” Dot whispered.

Her head spun as the words from her friend settled in. She hadn’t had her period she realised. No. Surely not, right?

“Go and see the doctor after your shift and check” Dot continued.

“I have half an hour off before I start back up again”

“I’ll cover you”

“You’ve got kids you need to-“

“My mom’s here to help me, I’ll be fine”

“But-“

“No buts missy, you need to find out if you are.”

After twenty minutes of arguing back and forth with Dot, Y/n finally caved. Going to the hospital she waited patiently for her bloods to be taken. Completely unaware that across town two families were receiving the worst news.

Getting her keys out of her bag she froze when she saw Steve standing outside her apartment dressed in civilian clothing as Bucky called it now.

“Steve? Hey! What are you doing here?”

“Y/n, I need to talk to you”

“Is it Jamie? Steve? Where’s Bucky?”

But Steve didn’t answer instead he took her keys from her shaking hands and unlocked the door, pushing it open he turned to grasp her arm and guided her in to her apartment. His heart sinking further into his stomach than it already was before coming to her apartment, when he saw the metal nut still sitting on her finger.

“Steve…”

“I failed you Y/n/n I-I’m so sorry”

“He’s okay. He is. I know it”

Shaking his head the scene replying over and over in his head like it had for the past week since he watched his best friend fall to his death “H-he-he’s gone Y/n, I’m so-sorry” He jumps up just in time to catch her as she falls to her knees, a painful sob leaving her lips.

Sadly Steve wasn’t done.

“Y/n…there’s something else, Michael…he’s been killed”

Michael was her half brother. She was close with him, closer to him than she was with her younger siblings. Michael never failed to make her laugh, he always acted like he was the oldest one of the two though there was eight years between them. Y/n was the first person he told when he got his orders from the Army, she hugged him as he cried. It’s not that he didn’t want to fight and help it was that he was terrified.

“No! No you’re lying.”

Helping her stand he took her home where her mom’s screams and cries could be heard from outside the home. Watching as mom and daughter cling together from the doorway Steve let a few tears fall.

Two days after finding out that her best friend turned fiancé and her sweet younger brother were killed Y/n found out she was pregnant. A few weeks later they buried Michael.

On the second of March 1945 Peggy arrived at Y/n’s apartment, eyes red and swollen. They held each other as they cried. Y/n gathered that Steve never got his letter to let him know he was going to be an uncle.

When Peggy noticed the small prodding bump her heart ached. She knew she had to keep the promise that she gave Steve, that she would look after Y/n. Steve had told Peggy that just before Bucky fell he told the blonde to look after his fiancée, the two best friend’s last thoughts were on their best friend and fiancée. Neither one knowing that she pregnant.

A month later Y/n and her family, Winnie and Rebecca were at the cemetery, she smiled sadly when she felt her baby kick for the first time when the preacher said James Buchanan Barnes, they watched as two empty coffins were put into the ground.

She knew that the baby she was growing inside of her would have been so loved and spoiled by its father and uncle Stevie, it broke her heart knowing that her unborn baby would never meet the two greatest men she had ever known.

Five years passed after she lost three men closest to her. After she gave birth to a healthy beautiful baby girl that she named Hope Jamie Barnes, she moved out of the tiny little apartment she had and moved into a farm house that had acres of land.

Just because her Jamie wasn’t with her anymore didn’t mean she was going to give up on the life that he had planned for them. She still wore that metal nut, everyone thought it was strange but luckily for her they never asked about it. However it no longer sat on her finger but around her neck on a silver chain.

A wedding ring sat there now instead.

Two years after Hope was born her mom made her get married. “You’re twenty nine now Y/n you need a husband” her mom told her, reluctantly she agreed and married a man named Frank. At first Frank was okay, nice even but things changed only after a few months of marriage. It started with small things such as telling her what to wear, how to act. Then it turned nasty, the abuse was mental, verbal and physical.

Three years into their marriage she had become numb and use to it all. Became use to the women talking and giggling like school girls when they saw her in the store or on the streets, the same women who were sleeping with her husband. It didn’t bother her anymore that her husband was cheating on her, the more women he had to satisfy him the more he was away from her home, the less she got beaten and berated.

It didn’t even bother her that he had gotten one of his mistresses pregnant or when the mistress’s husband found out and beat Frank to within an inch of his life. In fact she smiled.

Y/n and Peggy’s friendship became non existent after Y/n got married and Peggy married Daniel Sousa, when Peggy and Daniel started dating Peggy had asked Y/n if she was wrong for it but Y/n told her that she deserved to be happy and if he gave that to her then she should have that happiness.

Peggy worried if Steve would have been mad, Y/n had to remind her that he wouldn’t have wanted her to live a life of loneliness.

When Hope was five she was wise for her age, she knew Frank wasn’t her father, she knew her daddy had passed away when he protected the country from the bad guys. Hope enjoyed her nighttime stories where her mama would tell her all about her father, hearing about how funny, kind and loving her father was always made the little girl smile. One night Y/n showed Hope the few photographs she had of James, Hope giggled and pointed at her eyes and then at James’s “same mommy same”. It was true, Hope had the same colour eyes as Bucky and like Bucky’s eyes they changed lighter when she was happy or giggling, turned darker when she was sad or when she was poorly.

Every Sunday Y/n and Hope had a routine, they would go to the cemetery to put flowers down on the graves of James and Steve. They would sit on a blanket and eat the sandwiches that Y/n would take with them, they would sit, eat and talk for hours - depending on the weather. Hope would show the headstones all her drawings and tell them all about her schooling and friends, told them her favourite colour - the rainbow that’s her favourite colour.

Y/n knew that there was no bodies in the coffins but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t sit there with her daughter in her lap and tell the two empty graves that she loved and missed them. Every time.

It was still a tradition that they both did even as Y/n got older and weaker.

In 1970 her husband was killed, Franks brother Robert was arrested and charged with his murder. Robert found out that his wife was having an affair with his brother. Y/n went to see him in prison after Robert sent her a letter begging her to see him, he swore that he didn’t do it. That it was a man with a silver arm. Y/n believed him when he said he didn’t do it, he was with his sister, her husband and their children, along with Robert’s children. But she didn’t believe him about a man with a silver arm, that was a bit far fetched.

At Franks funeral Y/n stood there with Hope on her left side and the nine children he had with nine different women. She tried to comfort the children he had with the women he had cheated on her with, they allowed it until everyone left and it was just them standing at the grave. His oldest started laughing causing the others to join in, Hope looked at her mom with a raised eyebrow that reminded her so much of Bucky, she just shrugged.

They told Y/n that they were happy he was finally gone. Told her that they hated him and was glad he was dead.

It surprised her but they were at the age where they realised that their parents marriages broke up when their mom cheated on their dad, or when they saw Frank hit their mom. It was nine teenagers/young adults who knew that what the preacher was saying as the coffin was lowered in the ground that it was all lies, he wasn’t a good man, he wasn’t a good husband or father, he was everything they hated. He was everything the five boys had promised that they would never turn in to. He was everything the four girls promised that they would never end up with.

They all kept in touch throughout the years, it was nice. And through them years all nine of his offspring kept their promises.

As the years went on Y/n became more and more proud of Hope and the woman she had become. Hope got married and had children, her first born son was named James, her second son was named Steve.

“M-mom there’s someone here to see you” Hope stuttered from the doorway.

“W-who i-is it darling?”

“I-he-hold on”

Hope appeared at the door with a nervous smile on her face, her fingers twisting together as a man walked slowly towards her. His eyes going to the woman and then to the man behind him, he was scared.

“Hope?”

“Mom-“

Y/n slowly turned to face the doorway, her eyes widening as she sees the ghost of her best friend towering over her daughter.

“S-Stevie? You’ve come to take me to Jamie?”

Steve frowned looking at the woman who was the last person on his mind before the plane crashed in to the water, his best friend who had aged yet her eyes remained the same. Then he looked at Hope confusion written on his face, she looked up at him and smiled sadly.

“Mom I’m just going to get you a drink.” Nodding her head to Steve and Sam to follow her she went into the kitchen. “She thinks your taking her to heaven to see my dad”

“Dad?”

“James? He’s my father”

Steve’s heart thumped painfully in his chest. When Hope answered the door telling him that she was Y/n’s daughter he assumed that she had married and had children, he did not expect the woman in front of him to be the daughter of his best friend who he watched fall to his death.

“What?”

“Bucky Barnes is my father…you’re my uncle, well that’s what my mom always called you.”

“Oh. Now I see it, it’s your eyes”

“Mom always said I had the same eyes as him” she laughed.

Steve goes to open his mouth when there’s a sound of a cane hitting the floor, all three turn to face the doorway where Y/n stood.

“Are you re-really alive and not just m-my imagination?”

“I’m really here Y/n/n”

“H-how?”

“When I crashed the plane-ow stop hitting me” he cries out when she hits him with her walking cane, Sam and Hope laugh.

“Still mad at you for crashing that plane”

“I’m sorry. I was frozen and they found me a few years ago” Steve finished his explanation. Y/n nodded and sat down, being ninety five years old her legs weren’t as strong as they once were.

“This is my daughter, she’s beautiful isn’t she?”

“She is, she’s got Bucky’s eyes”

“Yes she has. Who’s your friend?”

“This is Sam, he’s the one that helped me track you down”

“I-it’s nice to meet you Sam.” When Y/n reached out to shake Sam’s hand Steve noticed a glint of a necklace. He watched as her free hand went to the necklace and started lightly tugging on it, he wasn’t the only one.

“Mom? Mom your alright, your safe don’t worry” Hope says softly, moving closer slowly. Sam looked at Steve worriedly.

“I-I don’t-don’t let him hurt me anymore”

“Mom he’s dead, he can’t hurt you anymore I promise” Hope helped pull the necklace out, handing her the thing she knew her mom was trying to hold.

Steve’s breath get caught in his throat at seeing the metal nut Bucky gave her all those years ago.

“S-Steve? Your dead. Hope wh-who is he? I-it’s not Stevie, he’s dead”

“It’s okay mom, he’s a friend. Let’s get you back to bed okay?” Turning to Steve and Sam telling them she’d be back in a few, they both nod.

Waiting patiently in the kitchen Steve can hear Hope calm Y/n down, his heart breaking when Y/n asks for Jamie. When Hope comes downstairs she offers the two a drink, both declines politely.

“Mom keeps forgetting things, she’s been like this for a while now.”

“The thing on her necklace, what is it?” Though he knew he just couldn’t see it lasting this long or that she even kept it.

“My dad proposed to her with it, it’s a nut. She’s kept it on her chain ever since-well, she’s wore it since he gave it her”

“Did she ever marry? Have other kids?”

“Yes, he died in 1970 and no I’m her only child”

“I’m sor-“

“Don’t apologise, bastard deserved it”

After an hour or so the men take their leave, the blonde asking if he was able to come back and see Y/n again, Hope said yes.

The year was now 2016, Y/n’s health declining as she was nearing one hundred. The doctors told Hope that it would be better to keep her in hospital for the rest of her time on earth, Hope told them that, that wasn’t going to happen. Y/n had told Hope that when she was going to die that she wanted to go when she was at home. No matter what.

Steve had showed up one day to talk to Hope, to tell her that her father was alive after all this time. Hope begged him not to tell Y/n. Y/n struggled to understand and come to terms with the fact that Steve was alive, she had grown so confused that she started to tug on her necklace. Hope didn’t want to imagine how her mom would react to the news that the love of her life was alive, not when she spent so long mourning him.

At first Steve was confused but understood at the same time. He told Hope that he and Bucky fought and the only way he could get him to snap out of whatever Hydra had done to him was by saying Y/ns name, Hope smiled at that. Hope asked Steve if he had told James all about her and how her mom was still alive, Steve said no but with her permission he would. And he did.

After seventy years of going without a father it was strange when she met Bucky for the first time, a man who didn’t look a day over thirty was her father when she looked like his mother, it was strange.

Bucky cried. Cried for never knowing Y/n was pregnant in the first place. Cried for never being there throughout Hope growing in her mother’s stomach. Cried for never being there for either one of them for nearly seventy years. Hugging his daughter for the first time ever Bucky crumbled.

Hope was very honest about hers and Y/n’s life, told Bucky how Y/n’s husband was a cheating abusive arsehole. Both Bucky and Steve clenched their fists at hearing that. Shocked when Hope told them that apparently a man with a silver arm had killed Frank, and because Bucky had his arm covered and gloves on Hope didn’t realise that it was her father that did it.

Bucky was open and honest about what had happened to him, expecting his daughter to look at him differently so when she threw her arms around him and cried he was shocked.

It took Bucky exactly twenty three minutes and fourteen seconds for him to ask when he could see Y/n. Having to think it over she agreed but on the condition that she was the one that would tell Y/n the truth.

Telling her mom that the man she had still been in love with after all those years since she had lost him, that he was still alive was the hardest conversation she had to have with her mom. Y/n didn’t believe her, of course she didn’t she’s spent seventy years mourning him. Seventy years wishing she saw him again, hoping and praying that he would still love her the way she still loved him.

Hope told Y/n that she had met him, hugged him, laughed with him but she still didn’t believe her.

A week after telling Y/n that Bucky was still alive her health deteriorated. Hope had to tell Bucky and Steve that Y/n didn’t have long left. Bucky was determined to see his love for the last time.

James stood in front of the house that Y/n had made a home since she left Brooklyn, the two floored farm house stood proudly in front of acres of land, due to his enhanced senses he could smell the lingering smell of animal food and waste. Hope had told him all about the animals Y/n rescued over the years, told him that when she was seven they had three horses, cows and goats, that in recent years Y/n had been rescuing cats and dogs from the streets or abusive homes rehoming them to those she trusted. Bucky smiled at hearing that she had lived the life he wanted for the both of them, smiled at hearing that Y/n’s kindness and love for animals never stopped.

Checking his hair was fine for the umpteenth time in the two hours it took them to get there he turned to face Steve.

“You ready Buck?”

“Y-yeah” Steve knocks on the door and they both wait patiently for Hope to answer. 

“Hi, come on in-oh”

“T-they wanted to come, hope that’s okay” Bucky explained. Behind him and Steve stood the rest of the Avengers.

“We’ve heard all about your mom ever since blondie came out of ice, wanted to meet her” Tony spoke leaning in between the two super soldiers to hold his hand out.

“Oh right, come in.” Leading them all upstairs where Y/n was, Bucky’s nerves sky rocketed the closer he got to the bedroom. “You ready?” Hope asked.

“Yeah. She knows I’m here right?”

“She does, if it helps she’s nervous too”

Nodding his head he watched with a steady breath as his daughter - which he still found weird saying - twisted the door knob and opened the door.

Though older and frail Bucky thought she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. His eyes stayed on her face as he moved closer, with every step he took his heart started to beat slower.

“J-Jamie?”

Wetting his lips and gulping he nodded “hi Flower”

“Took you long enough to come and get me”

“I know my love b-but I’m here now”

“Are we going to see Stevie?”

“Stevie’s right here darling”

“Is my mama going to be there too?”

Frowning he looked back to Hope as she stands at the doorway with everyone behind her. Hope shook her head and mouthed “she thinks you’re taking her to heaven”.  His frown deepened, looking back at Y/n whose eyes didn’t move away from him.

“I’ve missed you Flower”

“I’ve missed you too Jamie. Ha-have you met Hope? She’s your daughter Jamie”

“I have met her, beautiful isn’t she?”

“She is. The best thing I’ve ever done”

“I’m so proud of you, you’ve raised our daughter amazingly”

“Sit down silly” sitting on bed next to her he took his gloves off and held both her hands when she reached for him. Y/n didn’t flinch when his silver hand touched her. “Don’t let Frank hurt Hope okay? Y-you have to promise me Jamie th-that you’ll lo-look after her”

“Doll he’s-I promise that no one will ever hurt her”

“Good. He’s mean. He hurts me Jamie”

“I know doll I know, I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you from him”

“Not your fa-wh-who are they Jamie?”

“They’re Stevies friends Flower”

Hope nudged Steve further into the room and nods to the others letting them know it’s okay for them to go in too. Steve says hello and introduces the team to her, each giving her a smile.

For three hours Steve and Y/n talked about growing up together and all the things they use to get up to, everyone laughed and asked Y/n questions about the two super soldiers, she answered them as best as she could sometimes she repeated herself or looked panicked when she saw strangers standing in her room.

Bucky though held her hand with the both of his, his eyes on her the whole time. Tracing over each line with his eyes, his heart clenching when he saw the unmistakable sight of a scar that ran down the side of her face.

His breath got caught in his throat when she took out the metal nut around the necklace. “Y-you kept it?” He asked interrupting when Sam was talking about.

“My Jamie gave it me during the war, he proposed to me” she smiled “you look like him”

“Do I?”

“Yes, but my Jamie was more handsome”

“Was he now?”

“Oh yes-“ a yawn cuts her off. Hope tells everyone that it was best if they left now so she could get some rest, and they do. Each say their goodbyes and waits for Steve and Bucky downstairs.

“We’ll come and see you tomorrow okay?” Steve says after he pulls away from giving her a hug and a kiss to her forehead. Y/n nods and smiles. “I’ll wait for downstairs Buck”

Bucky nods, then looks at Hope who understands without being verbally told that Bucky wanted a few minutes alone, she follows behind Steve.

“I have always loved you, you know? I still love you. I’m sorry that I didn’t come home to you when I promised you over and over that I would, I’m sorry I let you down Flower”

“Y-you didn’t let me down Jamie, never.”

Bucky smiles softly at her, watching as her eyes start to droop. “I’ll let you get some rest my love. I’ll see you tomorrow, I promise”

“O-okay Jamie. S-see you tom-tomorrow” Giving her a kiss to her forehead he stands and moves to the door, taking one last look at his first and only love.

“Thank you for the best years of my life”

He says before shutting the door and heads slowly down the stairs.

After Hope says her goodbyes and gives her dad a hug she busies herself cleaning the kitchen, she smiles happily to herself seeing her parents together something she had always wanted to experience.

She doesn’t know that her mom is in her bed with her hand wrapped around the piece of metal that she had wore and cherished from the moment James gave it her, she doesn’t know her mom is thinking about meeting her Jamie again.

She doesn’t know that her mom takes her last breath with a small smile on her lips.

A year after loosing the love of his life Bucky had to bury his only daughter, heart attack took her. In 2023 Tony had perfected his father’s Time Machine with the help from Bruce. Steve was going to be returning the stones, they all gathered together in the empty space and watched as Steve vanished.

“4…3…2…1” Bruce counted down for Steve’s arrival.

Once the smoke cleared Bucky had his eyes down as he knew that Steve wasn’t going to be coming back, he knew he was going to go back to live a life with Peggy. His head snapped up when he heard the voice that he always heard in his sleep.

There stood on the platform was Steve, Y/n and a two year old Hope.

“Fl-Flower”

“You died Jamie. You promised me you would be safe but-“

Bucky cuts her off by pressing his lips against hers, holding both of his flowers tightly.

One month after Steve brought Y/n and Hope to the future, Bucky and Y/n got married. A month after that she finds out that baby Barnes number two would be arriving.

“I love you Flower”

“I love you Jamie”

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

[inkdrinkerworld]

Heyy!! I absolutely love your work and was wondering if I could make a request?

I read your Logan x Scott’s sister blurb a little bit ago and adored it and was wondering if I could request another one?

Maybe reader is crying in her room over a book or show or something and Logan comes in to soothe her but then Scott comes in and sees his sister crying and thinks that Logan did something to her? He gets all defensive and protective.

If not, obviously no worries but lots of love and hope you’re doing well!! 💗💗

“Bub? Where are you sweet girl?” Logan comes into your room, looking around for you. “I need a hug kid.” He had a fucking horrible day- some of the kids were more shits than he remembered.

Logan finds you in the bathroom crying on the toilet. You’re in your towel, and your hair is dripping down your back with suds following them.

“What’s wrong?” Immediately, Logan’s on his knees in front of you.

You sniffle and wipe at your nose, eyes all red as you look up at him.

“I hurt my wrist when I went on that thing with Jean and Ororo and I thought the pain would go away but when I was washing my hair I think I fucked it up some more.” He pouts, reaching for your wrist.

“Let me take a look, princess.”

You set your wrist in his hand carefully.

It looks more than sprained. Maybe a little twisted and a touch out of place.

“I can set it for you. Wanna bite down on my belt?” He teases and you giggle wetly while shaking your head.

“Will you count me down?” Logan coos, your words are soft and a bit insecure. He gives you a kiss on your cheek and then your wrist.

“I’ll count you down bub,” he rubs a little pressure on your forearm. “Look the other way f’me.”

You turn your head and Logan gives you a count from three to one, and twists your wrist making you cry out. “Fuck that’s rough.”

Just then, the bathroom door bangs open and Scott glares at Logan.

“What the fuck did you do to her? Why’s she been crying? And what the fuck happened to her wrist?”

You roll your eyes, Logan just stares at Scott like he can’t believe he’s in the bathroom right now. He really can’t. He also can’t believe Scott thinks he’d hurt you.

“I’ve been crying because I fucked up my wrist and Logan set it back for me while I was being a baby.”

Logan pinches your thigh, “You were hurt, not being a baby.”

Scott can’t help but soften his stance a bit. Logan treats you well, even if he gives him shit everyday. Sue him for not liking that you’re dating.

“You mind getting out so I can finish washing my girlfriend’s hair, Cyclops?”

Scott’s scowl is back. “When you’re finished can we go get lunch? I miss you.”

Logan gags, “I’m in love with your sister, Scott. Not you.”

You laugh and Scott glares harder. “I was talking to her, dumbass! Why would I miss you? I see you just about eleven hours a fucking day.”

“Yeah, we can grab a bite after Scotty. Give me thirty minutes?”

He nods and walks out, shutting the door behind him.

“What about me, hm?��� Logan teases as he helps you out of your towel. “Gonna leave me to sleep in that cold ass bed all alone?”

“I’ll be back in an hour Lo, I swear.” You cup his cheek with your good hand and kiss his bottom lip.

“Yeah yeah,” he keeps you in place for a second kiss. “Did you factor me into those thirty minutes?”

You laugh against his mouth, “Not this time baby, come wash my hair please my love?”

Logan rolls his eyes playfully. You always know the right thing to call him. “You’re not leaving this room the second you come back; fucking missed you today.” He pats your butt as you step into the shower, your laugh making his chest swell.

God he loves you.

[sailorrhansol]

Baby | ksy (m)

Pairing: Soongyoung x f. reader

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

Word Count: 29,988

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

Type: Smut, Heavy Angst

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

Warnings: Full warnings available under the cut.

❀ A/N: This fic is a part of my newly announced Syndicates Collection. I want to emphasize that in this fic, everyone is associated with criminal behavior and deeply ingrained in a Syndicate culture in which illegal activity, violence and drug use is the norm. If you cannot handle that - especially because I make no attempt to moralize their behavior - this isn’t the fic for you. Additionally, there are violent scenes. It is a violent story. That’s okay if this isn’t for you, just skip this one. 

❀ A/N 2:  i love jo and jade the end <- left by @daechwitatamic while beta reading but also thank you @eoieopda for beta reading - also dropping this a day early because it’s @eoieopda’s birthday and I love them very big. HBD shrimpie.  

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist | The Syndicates Collection | Tag List Request Form | Ask | Playlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not any good.”

“That’s okay. I’ll let you beat me.” 

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

“No way!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everyone treats me like a baby.” 

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

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

“What about you?” you ask. 

“What about me?” 

“Jump.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have no idea.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you look at me?”

“No.”

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

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

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

“Just let me go!” 

“No. Why do you want me to kiss you?”

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

“Fuck - are you crying?”

“No.”

“Baby, look at me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Baby. What’s up?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go away.”

“Baby, please don’t start with me.”

“I’m not starting fuck with you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not mad at you. Go away!”

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

“Please fuck off.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t feel very fun right now.”

“Drugs will fix it!” 

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

“Ignore him,” you insist. 

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

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

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

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

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

“So it is about her?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well fuck him!”

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

“I want to break her fucking face!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? Why not?”

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

“The Tower doesn’t have to know.”

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

“Not if you tell them not to.”

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

“Angel said you had a bad day.”

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

You snort. “You tell her that.”

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

“I’m not helpless.”

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

“So you think I’m pretty?”

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

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

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

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

“What if I said I did?” 

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

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

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

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

Soonyoung also probably would have had them beaten. 

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

“What?” you ask. 

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

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

“And?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re gross.” 

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

“A present?”

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

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

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

“Bring it over here.” 

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

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

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

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

“And what is this gift for?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

He nods. “Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.” 

Both you realize. You can deal with both. 

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

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

He shrugs you off. “Not mine.” 

“I - what’s going on?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me call Vernon-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not made for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah? Like what?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The Yongs are doing it outright?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Soonyoung is below your station, though. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least you know where your stubborn streak comes from. 

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

“That’s because he’s a man.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’d fallen in love with her that night. 

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

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

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

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

You are going to marry the Kim family heir.

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

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

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

“I don’t understand.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You will not!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mother will not let you-”

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

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

His pity doesn’t come. There is only resolute silence, watching as you crumple in front of him, knees going weak as you abruptly sit - fall - on the floor. You bury your face in your hands, grief for something lost stealing your ability to maintain control before you’ve even given an answer. 

I’m not made for you. 

Soonyoung had tried to tell you a long time ago and you’d brushed him off. Of course he was made for you. He was all you’ve ever wanted, and you’ve always been given what you wanted. You made him whole, and he you. How could you not be made for one another. 

“Please don’t do this to me. Daddy,” you whisper, trying to appeal to him with the little girl he loves. “Please, I love him.” 

“Lan will escort you to your room.” You ignore his words, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, willing the tears to stop. You know later you’ll feel pathetic for the display of emotion, for the meltdown in the face of adversity. “You will announce your engagement at the end of the week.”

“Yes, Tower.”

“If you so much as remotely try to sneak around with him, I will put him in the ground and bear the weight of that grief for eternity.” 

“Yes, Tower.”

“Know that I love you. We must make sacrifices for this family we wish not to. But you will make the sacrifice like I have so many times before. So will Soonyoung.” 

You stand, limbs shaky as you look at your father, the heat of your mother’s rage fueling your gaze. “Yes, Tower.”

Sleep claws at you with greedy fingers, unwilling to give you up to the waking light of day. You groan, suspended in that moment of almost awake but achingly unaware. A brush of warm skin on your arm pulls you the rest of the way from heavy sleep, your thoughts sticky as they formulate and you open your eyes, squinting in the gray light of your room. 

Squinting at the clock displayed on your nightstand, you realize it’s late morning. The tinted windows of your room keep out the sunlight, but a single panel has been adjusted to let some of the cloudy day in, a single shaft of gray spilling into your room like muddy water. 

Warmth presses behind your back, the steady touch on your arm trailing up and down. For a second, you lean back into it, feeling your head thud against Soonyoung’s chest, his mouth pressing against the crown of your head. He drags his fingers up and down your arm absently, light as a feather. He smells like soap, a hint of his familiar vanilla and sandalwood. 

“Have trouble sleeping?” the words are mumbled against you. 

“Hmm?”

“There’s lines of crushed knockout on your nightstand, Baby.” 

You look at the nightstand. Sure enough, the white pills you crushed are dusted across the surface. The reality of why you used them slams into you so suddenly that you stiffen, muscles locking.

Soonyoung notices immediately, his touch stilling. “What?”

Finding the words is impossible. You don’t know where to start, your father’s words make you dizzy. The sheets stick to your skin, Soonyoung’s warmth too hot to stand. You scramble from bed, kicking at the sheets and putting distance between you as you bolt toward the bathroom. 

“Hey,” he calls after you. You don’t turn to look at him, the cool tile giving you goosebump as the lights flicker on. You close the door behind you firmly, pressing your back against it. Soonyoung’s knocks are immediate, his voice calling your name on the other side. “What’s wrong?” 

The use of your name sours your stomach. You lurch forward, diving for the toilet as the contents of your stomach empty. The bile burns, your eyes watering as you press against the cold porcelain, clinging to it for life. 

Soonyoung opens the door, letting himself in as you heave again. He’s quick to react, opening the medicine cabinet to remove an anti-nausea inhalent. He wordlessly pads over to you, crouching down to extend it toward you. 

You avoid looking at him directly in the eye as you snatch it from him. His brows are pinched in concern, face swollen with what little sleep he got and mouth turned downward. Your stomach roils again but holds as you crack the inhalent and wave it under your nose, breathing in gently. 

The stimulant makes your eyes water, but immediately the churning in your stomach subsides. You close your eyes for a moment, breathing in and out slowly, trying to regulate yourself. Soonyoung watches in silence, his hands opening and closing at his sides like he wants to reach out and touch you but doesn’t. 

When you open your eyes, there is so much love and concern on his face that you almost break right then and there. Instead, you clear your throat and straighten, tossing the medication in the trash.

“Thanks, just hungover. I need to shower.”

He looks doubtful. “Alright.”

Soonyoung stands, heading to the shower. You clear your throat and he pauses, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Alone, please.” 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just want to shower.” 

He says your name again. Not Baby. Not any other derivative. Your name. “You can talk to me.”

Your heart cracks. You panic. Your brain races for the only viable option. “I just want to take a fucking shower, Soonyoung.” You push yourself off the ground, scowling at him. He moves out of your way as you pass him, stunned to silence. “I don’t need you crowding my space every five seconds.” 

Refusing to look at him as you hit the panel in the wall, you instead focus on the water that falls from the ceiling, a storm of heat and the smell of peppermint. You keep your back turned toward him, staring at the water as it heats, steam curling in tendrils where it hits the stone tiles. 

“You can go,” you say sharply. 

“Alright.” 

The gentle click of the door when he leaves is barely audible over the hum of the shower. You let the rushing water lull you into a state of numbness, peeling your clothes off with unsteady, mechanical movements. 

Hot water slicks off your shoulders. You close your eyes and hang your head, letting the feel of the peppering water sluice over your ears, eyes, nose, mouth. You let it blind your senses to nothing but the roar of water, blotting out everything else. 

If I stay right now, you will never get me to leave. 

You remember when Soonyoung whispered it against your skin just a few years ago, spoken carefully and clearly, a promise and a warning. He would never let you go. You had to let him go. Telling him what your father has asked of you - has threatened to take away from you - will only make Soonyoung’s feet dig in further.

For as long as you’ve known him, Soonyoung has been a covetous creature. You remember the night at the club he antagonized you just to see that spark of want, just to prove to himself it was him you wanted. You remember the way he clung to you in the dark of your bedroom, the only person who could ever make him whole. Who could make him feel. 

Your father sees Soonyoung as a loyal attack dog - but it isn’t the Tower of the Choi Syndicate who holds Soonyoung’s collar. It never has been. Soonyoung has never asked your father how high. 

Pressing your palms to your eyes, you start deep breathing exercises. In through your nose, out through your mouth. The shaking in your fingers begins to subside, the logic part of your brain turning on. 

The threat on Soonyoung’s life is real. You saw the resolve in your father’s eye, the painful glint. He would hate to do it, but he would do it. You’re entwined too deep into your family’s affairs and business to vanish. There is nothing in the world you have that’s your own, no assets that are not connected to them in some way.

And if you tell Soonyoung, he’ll face the problem like he does everything that stands in his way: try to kill it. 

For a split moment, your brain chases the thought like a mouse after cheese. Like a long math problem, you work out if it’s possible to commit patricide and get away with it. Your mother will never forgive you, but Seungcheol might. Your friends would - they’re loyal to you, especially Jeonghan and Angel. 

The older generation, though- 

You toss aside the thought almost as quickly as you thought of it - not because you don’t want to kill your father, but because it isn’t possible. Not just like that. There are too many pieces on the chessboard, too many domino effects spreading out in every direction if you take that route.

No. There is only a single path for you, set in motion by a hand with more power than you. 

And there’s only one way you can move forward with Soonyoung. 

There’s so much of your mother’s side of the family you’ve inherited. Her side has always been associated with the phoenix, the burning immortality of their name and their strength, a blazing glory. Your maternal relatives have always been the rage and the fire that was needed for a Syndicate to advance, a good partnership for the Choi’s who were cold and steadfast. 

What you need now is the winter of the mountain, not the rage of the phoenix. You need to be a Choi. 

Steadfast is the mountain. 

You love Soonyoung. You love him you love him you love him youlovehimyoulovehimyoulovehimYOULOVEHIMYOULOVEHIM- 

Pressing your fist to your mouth, you bite down for one, blinding moment of untapped rage. You feel your skin break, taste iron and salt, feel pain bloom. 

Steadfast is the mountain. 

Then it’s gone. You drop your hand from your mouth. Open your eyes. Turn off the shower. The rage is gone, buried beneath a layer of newly formed ice. If there is anyone you can do this for, it’s Soonyoung. You love him. You will destroy him. But he’ll be alive. 

Soonyoung is sitting on your bed when you open the door. He’s got a tablet in his hand, the holographic images displaying above the screen, haloing his face in blue light. There are circles under his eyes and his teeth worry at his bottom lip, which is chapped. He’s shirtless, the compact planes of his body half shadowed by the single shaft of light filtering through a window. 

He looks up at you but you ignore him, heading to your closet. The silence is brutal. You push through it, opening the closet doors to reveal a massive space nearly the same size of your bathroom. Track lights kick on, rows and rows of clothes by color greeting you. In the middle, there is an island counter, filled with drawers and biolocked jewelry safes. 

Soft steps tell you Soonyoung is standing at the entrance of the closet. You still don’t face him, walking over to your section of black clothes. You flick through them, eyes scanning. Black seems appropriate. It feels like death, afterall. 

Soonyoung’s voice is soft as his late night kisses. “What’s going on?” 

“I’m marrying Kim Yijun.” 

A beat passes. Then another. 

“Is that supposed to be a joke? I’m not interested in pranks this morning.”

“It’s not a prank.” You pull out a black, silk dress. “The Tower has asked this of me, and I’ll be doing it.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

You continue, undeterred as you put the dress back and keep looking. “The Kim family has agreed to the match ahead of the rising tensions with the Yong Syndicate and their new take on foreign allies. A united front of the old families will benefit our family-”

“You’re not fucking marrying Kim Yijun.” 

“All of the metrics we’ve run for public opinion and potential city-wide reaction are favorable. The Tower needs his children to fall in line, and I intend to do so.”

Soonyoung storms toward you. You turn on your heel, holding a finger out to him, voice severe, “Don’t come near me.” 

“Why? Because you know you’ll lose your resolve? Because the second I touch you, you’ll drop whatever bravado this is and let me help you?”

Exactly that. He knows you inside and out. Sees through the front. It doesn’t matter. You don’t need him to believe you, you need him to obey. 

He takes another step and you back up. “I will scream,” you threaten, venom in your voice. “I will scream and Seungcheol and Vernon are right down the hall. Whose side do you think they’ll take, with your reputation for violence?” 

“Fuck you, they know I’d never hurt you.”

You hear the waver in his voice. That tiny sliver of doubt, so small and tiny but there. They do know he would never hurt you, but Soonyoung isn’t convinced they’d believe him. It makes you sick, but you latch onto it, unspooling that tiny bit of hurt. “Do they, Soonyoung? I hear some of them call you a mad dog because you attack with no regard for anything. Do you really think they trust you entirely with me?”

Soonyoung is raging. His chest rising and falling, shaking his head back and forth as he tries to understand. You’re rooted to the spot, muscles coiled, pulse thudding in your throat. “You are not,” he growls. “Marrying Kim Yijun. You don’t even want to, don’t try to lie to me about your feelings or insult me thinking you can bait me. You love me. You are mine.” 

“I belong to the Choi family and it’s what my family needs from me. I will do my duty.”

“Fuck your family!” His roar makes you flinch, briefly closing your eyes. His palm slams on the top of the countertop in front of him, sharp in the silence. “You have a duty to me. I told you I would not fucking let you go. You’re not doing it. I’ll fucking kill him, you think I won’t? I’ll murder every last one of them-” 

“You don’t tell me what to do, Kwon Soonyoung. I will do this, and you will obey.” He bristles, going rigid as your words land like a slap. “When I say jump, you say how high. You’ve always known that.” 

For a second, he cracks. The Soonyoung you first saw on your doorstep, crying and round-cheeked and ruddy returns. His lip trembles and the way he looks at you nearly melts your iron will. You’re so close to collapsing, to laying it out before him, to risking it all. 

“Don’t do this to me.” His whisper is made of glass. Delicate. He presses his palm to his chest, right over his heart. Earnest. “I can’t - you know I can’t. I- please. I can’t do this.” 

Licking your lips, you look him in the eyes. His eyes are your favorite. Dark. Stormy. Endless. They are lined with silver, panic rippling across the surface. 

You lift your chin and push back your shoulders. “You can and you will, because I told you to jump, Soonyoung. Now ask how high.” 

Sunlight warms the back of your neck, humidity clinging to your skin like a second layer. You take a deep breath, though the steamy air offers no relief. You snap open a silk fan, waving it in front of your face in hopes of chasing away some of the sweat, feeling the separation between skin and makeup the longer you sit in the wretched heat of the garden. 

It’s not even real sunlight or heat. You can’t tell beyond the projection in the room, but you know that there are vents heating up the room and controls that make the air humid and sticky, making it feel like you’re sitting in a real garden outside somewhere lush. 

Lin drones on and on about something. You tuned her out long ago, eyes flickering back and forth to your watch and the women’s faces around you. None of them here are really your friend - not in the way Angel is, the way Wonwoo or Jeonghan are. 

Yet you’re expected to be here, entertaining the upper echelon wives of the Choi and Kim Syndicates, boiling away in an imaginary garden while you sweat to death, dress clinging to your skin and thighs slippery in the seat as you adjust yourself, uncomfortable. 

“It’s hot as a motherfucker,” a whispered voice comes from next to you. You look up to see the newly engaged heiress of Nexus Capital next to you, glaring behind the dark shade of her sunglasses as Lin continues rambling about something. “Couldn’t she have made it less real?”

A smirk twitches on your lips. You haven’t spoken to her much, but her recent engagement to Xu Minghao had secured the position the Choi Syndicate had been fighting for in the shipping yards and docks with the Yong family, elevating her family into the favored circle of your father.

Suddenly, you remember who had recommended that marriage in the first place. You remember the party, the pretty dress you wore, Soonyoung’s hand briefly on your waist as he kissed you goodbye for a meeting. You had no idea then that your throwaway comment about an arranged marriage to benefit your family would become your own nightmare under an hour later.

Grief is a funny thing. You never knew that you could feel grief for someone who isn’t dead, yet sometimes you feel such an overwhelming amount of grief at the hole that Soonyoung has left behind that you can’t breathe. 

Throat dry, you reach for water, drinking eagerly. You feel a bead of water run down your face, but you ignore it in favor of trying to focus on not panicking. 

Anxiety attacks are new for you. Though your entire life has been colored with stressful situations unique to growing up in a criminal Syndicate, you could never say that you were anxious before. At least not in the way that made the back of your neck too hot and the tips of your fingers buzz with the threat of a looming meltdown. 

You ignore it. It’s all you know how to do. The anxiety medication your therapist gave you doesn't work, and you can’t crush a bunch of pills and inhale them anytime you feel like you’re about to get tunnel vision and spiral. 

Well, you suppose you can, but you’re trying not to get into the habit. 

Instead of acknowledging the way the panic lurks around your edges like a predator waiting to pounce, you listen to the dull conversation around you. Focus on the gossip that you don’t care about, exactly, but know it’s good to have. 

Since marrying into the Kim family, you’re not sure what your job is. With your family, your role as the face, the legacy and the representation of the Choi Syndicate had always been clear and obvious. Now, your husband sends you to stupid things like this with preening people that you don’t like and makes you leave events early when he’s irritable. 

Gossip is a weapon, though. So you gather it when you can, taking in bits of information and storing it for yourself. Rarely do you offer it to Yijun - not that he would take it - but Jeonghan finds the information you share useful. So does Angel, but there’s rarely anything you know that she doesn’t. 

Just as your anxiety begins to fade, the source of it materializes. 

At first, you think you’re seeing things when a door appears in the wall depicting an apple orchard and Soonyoung strolls out into the fake-sun. You blink dumbly, spine tingling as you realize that your mind is not playing tricks on you and it is him. 

He sees you immediately. His dark eyes burn like embers, pinning you to the spot. His face remains motionless but you see his jaw tick, the only sign that he is immediately on edge when he sees you. He’s dressed for work in an all black suit, required for the Swords of the Choi family. 

Giggles breakout around the table as he approaches, the ladies around you all flushed cheeks and demure smiles. You feel the buzzing start in your hands again, this time worse. It goes up your arms, working its way to your chest as the anxiety increases tenfold, heart pounding.

Soonyoung bows. “I beg your pardon, ladies.” 

“My goodness, Soonyoung,” Lin preens. “You must be horribly hot in that suit, but you do look handsome.”

You fight the urge to snarl at her that the imitation of the garden isn’t real and no amount of pretending will make it real. You even imagine reaching across the table and plunging her fish knife into her hand. Instead, you watch Soonyoung, your hummingbird heart fluttering. 

He gives her a polite smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll be alright. I apologize for interrupting, but the Tower of the Choi family has sent me to escort his daughter home.” 

“Home?” 

“The Choi Estate.” 

He doesn’t say what he means: the Kim Estate is not your home. 

“Alright,” you say, voice reedy. Your hands are trembling as you slide your chair from the table, the metal legs grinding loudly against concrete. You flinch at the sound, hyper aware of every bead of sweat crawling down your spine, every beat of your heart that is too fast, too hard.

Static fills you as you mumble parting words to the women who watch you in confusion. At least, you think you mumble your goodbyes. Blood rushes in your ears as you take uneven steps toward Soonyoung, who turns on his heel and starts marching toward the apple orchard. 

It feels like you’re in an echo chamber. Everything suddenly feels hollow and everything sounds as though you’re hearing it through a thin wall. Muted. Dull. He opens the door that you can’t quite spot even this close, ushering you inside as your vision starts tunneling to a narrow point, everything else blurry and distorted. 

No. No no no no no. 

Lifting your hands, you glance down at them to see them trembling, opening and closing your fists in an attempt to stop the buzzing feeling, as though you could will it away. You think Soonyoung says something but you can’t hear him over the roar of panic that grips you and tears you sideways.

Instead of following him down the hall, you lurch toward a different hall, rushing toward the powder room. It feels like the walls are narrowing as you throw open the door, breath coming out in pants. Everything feels tight and compact, crushing smaller still. 

Stumbling to the sink you try to turn the faucet on. Once. Twice. Cold water spits from the faucet and you gasp, leaning down over the sink to splash freezing water into your face. It doesn’t have the desired effect, the water is not cool enough to shock you out of your panic. 

Soonyoung speaks behind you. You can’t hear him, the grip of your anxiety so strong that you grab the edges of the sink to keep you up right. You’re heaving now, heart rattling so hard you think that maybe you’re having a heart attack instead. 

A firm grip wretches your attention from the porcelain sink to the mirror, where you see your dripping reflection, eyes blown like saucers. Soonyoung is standing behind you, a hand on your bicep, squeezing. His face is no longer a mask of indifference, but one of confusion. 

His mouth moves and you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “I can’t,” you gasp, ragged. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.” 

Then, he does something that catches you entirely off guard. You watch in slow motion as he steps back and removes the gun from the holster underneath his suit jacket. You hear the safety on the gun click and the hum as the weapon charges, ready to fire rounds of plasma if he squeezes the trigger. 

And then he points the gun at your head, the lights on it flipping from blue to red, signaling it’s ready to kill. 

The world stops. The panic vanishes for a split second, replaced with utter shock as you stare at him in the mirror. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” you demand, voice stronger than you expect. 

Soonyoung is ten levels of crazy, but he’s never pointed a gun at you before. You stare at him, open-mouthed and wondering if he’ll do it. If he could pull the trigger. He’d told you a hundred times when you were together that he would never let you go and it was always with clarity that you understood what he meant: it’s me or no one. 

With stark clarity, you realize there’s no reason for Soonyoung not to pull the trigger. He doesn’t care much about the value of his own life from what you can glean over the last two years, and he doesn’t really seem to care about yours. 

Not that he should. You promised to make him feel human and you did. Then you took it away from him, leaving him adrift in a vast ocean of nothing alone and untethered. 

No, you don’t think you inspire Soonyoung to feel human anymore. If anything, you probably make him want to be the worst version of himself. 

Soonyoung’s voice holds no emotion when he asks, “Are you with me?”

“Why are you pointing a gun at me?” 

“Breathe,” he says instead. He doesn’t lower the weapon, stormy eyes focused on yours. “Breathe,” he repeats. “Slowly, maybe.” 

“Soonyoung, you are holding a gun at me, what do you mean breathe?” 

“What do you mean what do I mean? I mean what I fucking said. Breathe normally.”

“Lower the gun!” He does. “What the fuck?”

He breaks eye contact, sliding the weapon back into his suit jacket. He turns away from you as though he didn’t have you at gunpoint a second ago. “You were having a panic attack. Sometimes a shock to the system stalls it. Your breathing has slowed down now. And you’re not panicking.” 

A beat of silence passes. Then, “So you leveled a gun at my head?” 

“It worked. Let’s go.”

“Are you fucking crazy?”

“Yes. Now let’s go. You’re needed at the Choi Estate.”

“Why?” 

“Do I look like I have all the answers? I just do what I’m told. When a Choi says jump, remember?”

You visibly flinch as his words land. Soonyoung doesn’t wait for you to gather yourself, spinning on his heel and exiting the powder room to stride through the halls. Tightness gathers in your chest, left over from your anxiety attack. 

Pressing your hands against your dress to wipe the sweat from them, you chase after Soonyoung. He’s already by the apartment’s elevator, jamming his finger into the button. He doesn’t look at you as he waits, content to stare at the metal door. 

You don’t know where else to look - you want to look anywhere but him. Turning around, you fixate on the floor to ceiling windows. It’s still morning outside, but it’s hard to tell with the way the clouds block out the view, turning everything to mist. 

This high up in the city is reserved for the elite. You can’t imagine why - there’s nothing to look at but clouds, clouds, and more clouds. It’s what makes them have virtual reality rooms in the first place, trying to recreate the experience that they might have if they were wealthy enough to own land. 

The sound of the elevator arriving makes you flinch. Soonyoung ignores you, getting in and leaning against the wall as he hits a button to go to the parking garage. You scramble in after him, a little breathless as the doors close just behind you. 

Immediately you start shooting down several floors. He glares at the wall, unseeing and unfeeling. You swallow thickly, watching the numbers decrease until you’re at Lin’s private parking garage. Soonyoung is out of the elevator before it finishes opening all the way, storming toward the car he’s left running idle. 

Normally someone would open a car door for you. Instead, Soonyoung gets in the driver’s seat and slams the door shut. You reach for the handle of the passenger seat and pause. Normally you sit in the back when being driven somewhere, it’s always been like that. But this is Soonyoung and you’ve always been beside him in the car, his equal. 

A muffled get in the fucking car reaches you. Deciding that sitting next to him is too personal, you open the back seat and slide in. You’ve barely shut the door when he punches the gas, slamming you into the back of the seat as he goes. 

“Would you stop being an asshole?” you seethe, ripping the seatbelt from next to you to buckle in. Your hands are still shaking and it takes a moment for the clasp to click.

Instead of answering, you hear the way the car accelerates under his foot. Scowling, you look out the window. He speeds into the lift that brings the car down to the ground floor. Lights blur by as the lift drops at lurching speed, your stomach in your throat. You hate coming to apartments for this reason, the feeling of having to freefall to leave never growing on you. 

It’s raining when the lift opens to the wet street. Soonyoung peels out on the pavement, tires spinning until they gain traction and the car slides onto the road, narrowly missing someone. You slam against the seatbelt, cursing and clinging onto the door as he pushes the gas down, engine roaring.

“Are you trying to kill us?”

Soonyoung doesn’t answer you. You think it might be because he’s not explicitly trying to kill the two of you, but he doesn’t care if he does. You try not to think about it so much as he powers through the streets of the Upper City, driving past towering businesses, luxury districts with entertainment and bars and apartment buildings. 

The road starts to incline and you hit a line of trees. The city vanishes behind you as Soonyoung drives the car up the winding road, leaving a world of metal and lights for greenery and earth. The contrast between the cities below and the Estates above is stark, especially as he drive’s higher up the mountain, snatches of the city below visible. 

“Why did you come to get me?” you ask, flicking your gaze to the rearview mirror to watch him. Soonyoung keeps his eyes on the road, but you see his mouth tighten. “Last I checked you’re not an errand boy.”

“So what, you check on me?”

“It’s a figure of speech, you know what I mean.”

“The Tower personally requested I come get you.” 

That gives you pause. Soonyoung’s face reveals nothing as he turns on the street that will inevitably lead to the massive metal wall that blocks off the world from the Choi Estate. There can only be a single reason why Soonyoung was sent to fetch you when usually your husband’s staff would do so.

“What’s happened?” 

Soonyoung doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he rolls the window down at the guard house to show his face. The security team recognizes him immediately, waving him through as the gate begins to slide open to reveal lush, green jungle. 

Gravel crunches underneath the car tires as he drives through the winding foliage on Choi grounds. Your great-great-grandfather had built the Choi compound, the first of the few elite houses on the mountain. He thought it was important to keep the plant life and sprawling greenery to conserve, but you knew it was really about power. Symbolism. Greenery didn’t really exist in the city, and this much space and plantlife meant wealth. 

The sprawling estate you grew up in reveals itself. Multiple buildings dot the property, making it more a family compound than an estate. Now that Seungcheol is old enough, he’s moved out of the main house and into one of the smaller homes, occupying the space with his own men and staff. Still, he’s just a brief stroll away from your childhood home.

Home. Even two years under a Kim family banner hasn’t erased the feeling of home for you. There is nothing in the house you share with Yijun that makes it feel like you. It is as devoid of love as your marriage, merely a placeholder for you to sleep, eat, and occasionally, try to produce an heir. 

Soonyoung pulls up to the long building that serves as a garage, hitting a button on the car’s screen to open one of the bays. He pulls in slowly, the outside world fading as the garage door shuts behind the car, dousing it in darkness until the neon lights above flicker on. 

Without a word, he powers off the vehicle and gets out. Taking a deep breath, you square your shoulders and get out of the car. He doesn’t wait for you - even shuts the door as he enters the main house so you’re forced to lug it open. 

He’s already opening the door to the main house a few yards away, forcing you again to haphazardly navigate gravel in your heels as you give chase. You’re sweating and irritated by the time you’re up the steps and pushing through the front door, a nasty quip on your lips ready until you see your aunt coming down the stairs. 

“Oh thank goodness,” she says, seeing you. She looks older than you remember, the lines of her face deep and the hair at her temples gray. “Come along.”

“What’s going on?” you ask, uncertain as you step into the foyer and let her take your arm. 

She scowls. “Did that useless boy not tell you? Your mother suffered a heart attack this morning. She’s with Dr. Ymir in the medical wing.”

Your heart thuds to a stop as you wheel around to look over your shoulder at Soonyoung. His gaze is stormy but his face gives away nothing as he turns to leave the way he came, slamming the front door and vanishing down the steps to leave you alone. 

“No,” you mumble as your aunt pulls you down the hall. “He didn’t tell me.” 

Because that’s how much Soonyoung hates you. Hate isn’t even the right word, you think. It is something far deeper and far more sinister, fueled only by taking away something that he valued more than anything else in the world and forcing him to live with it. 

I deserve this, you think as the door to one of the private medical rooms opens, a clinical smell hitting you in the face. I deserve everything that happens to me. 

I deserve this. It’s all you can think of as you watch the black casket lower into the ground. Seungcheol stands beside you, his hands linked in front of him. You want to reach out and take his hand in yours, but you don’t want him to look weak. Don’t want others to see him crack like you know he will if you comfort him. 

Instead, you comfort yourself as best you can, which isn’t saying much. You’ve never been good at dealing with your feelings, too much of your mother’s blood running through you. It was your father’s least favorite trait of yours and perhaps Soonyoung’s favorite.

Soonyoung, who has always been your emotional tether and outlet. You’re not accustomed to dealing with grief alone, and the pull of it feels like an undertow threatening to drag you under and drown you. 

Someone shifts behind you, close enough that you feel Yijun next to you stiffen. You turn to look over your shoulder, blinking in surprise as you tilt your head up to see Soonyoung. He doesn’t look at you, dark eyes fixed forward and jaw flexing tightly. He’s standing closer than is necessary, as shown by your husband’s scoff. 

Soonyoung doesn’t move, though. He remains nearly pressed against your back, so close that you can smell vanilla and sandalwood. Turning away from him, you feel your shoulders relax. He ignores you, but he’s there, a stoic guardian that’s just out of reach.

The Tower of the Choi Syndicate is too lost in his grief to notice or care about Soonyoung’s proximity to you. Your brother couldn’t care less, barely realizing that his brother by choice is an inch away from him. But you know Soonyoung is there and that’s all that matters. 

The grief lessens, turning back from churning waters to gentle, lapping waves.

“Your brother doesn’t respect me,” Yijun asserts. You look at him in the bathroom mirror. He’s standing behind you in the closet, taking out glinting cufflinks to replace them in the countertop in the middle of the aisles of clothes. “You should work on that.”

“Seungcheol hardly takes what I say to heart.”

Yijun snorts, detecting the lie before you can even get it out. Seungcheol very much values your insight and opinion far more than he’s interested in Yijun’s. He’s made it clear at multiple parties and events now, often asking you how business is and how the shared Kim-Choi accounts are doing, despite not having anything to do with them. 

Seungcheol hates your role within the Kim family. On more than one occasion he’s recommended Yijun make use of you somewhere in the family business, to make you the head of operation somewhere so that your schooling and experience weren’t going to waste. Yijun asserted that your social skills were being put to perfect use, entertaining the wives of his associates and serving as the perfect host when his business colleagues and friends were over. 

“He’s going to be leading the family soon,” Yijun sighs. “It would be better for us if he saw me as a real ally.”

“He does see you as an ally. You’re married to his sister.”

“Exactly, so you should remind him that I’m family.” It doesn’t sound like a threat, but it also doesn’t sound like a request. Sighing, you shut the drawer in the counter forcefully. It draws his attention, gaze darkening. “Don’t you want your brother to respect your husband?”

No, you think. You don’t respect your husband, so why should Seungcheol?

Instead, you sigh. “Of course, Yi.” He doesn’t soften at the nickname. “I’ll talk to him, alright? He’s got a lot going on. And don’t talk about my father’s health that way.”

“I didn’t say anything about his health.”

“Please,” you snort. “I know what you meant about Cheol taking over soon.” 

Yijun had been talking about Seungcheol more and more. You’ve watched with a sour taste in your mouth as your husband tries to earn your brother’s attention and trust, flashing what he thinks Seungcheol cares about in his face, telling him about the new car he acquired, or the historical art piece you purchased at an auction, and the new apartment building he’s constructing. 

Seungcheol doesn’t give a fuck about any of that. The Choi family never has. Your ancestors didn’t make a name for themselves and carve it on the mountain they built their home on by showing off their wealth and what it could do for them. They did it by earning it, and by remaining steadfast and intelligent. Political. 

Yijun understands none of that. As the eldest son of his family, it’s a shame. The real world of the Syndicates is lost on him. He has enough business acumen to run companies under his father’s careful tutelage and instruction, but he doesn’t have the social savvy for it, the right drive. 

His brother does. You think of Kim Minchan and nearly shiver. The middle child of the Kim family has more than enough understanding of the way that things work, but the ocean of blood behind him is enough for you to prefer Yijun leading the Kim Syndicate any day. 

“I’m just saying,” Yijun grunts, flicking off the lights in the closet. “Your brother has all the reason in the world to respect me and he doesn’t.” He looks at you, face hardening. “Do you tell him not to? Is that what it is? His baby sister tells him how useless her husband is?” 

Danger is in the air. Yijun won’t lay a hand on you, but it doesn’t make this dance any less stressful. You turn away from the mirror, looking at him fully. He’s not terrible to look at - he has a sharp jaw and a broad nose and a pleasant shaped mouth. He’s handsome, even. 

He’s not Kwon Soonyoung. 

Swallowing away the thought, you reach up to put your hands on his chest, placating. “I wouldn’t do that,” you assure him, softening your voice. You hate the sound of your voice, hate the way you pitch it low and gentle. “You’re a reflection of me too. I would never let my brother think any of those things about my husband.” 

Yijun swats your hands away, making you grit your teeth. “Don’t act like a whore. Just - tell your brother. I should be in his inner circle by now. Make it happen.” 

As Yijun leaves the bathroom, the urge to grab him by his collar and yank him back in to smash his head on the counter almost wins. You stare at him until he vanishes in the bedroom, your rage a live, sentient thing. You feel it crawl beneath your skin, slithering and clawing and biting and begging to be let out. 

Steady is the mountain. You take that fire and shove it down. Years of instinct of reacting with your mother’s temper peter out slowly. It’s a shame - you’re the last woman left from her side of the family, the only one who can carry the fire of the phoenix. 

You glare at the bedroom. Somewhere, Yijun lurks, getting into bed. Oh how the shadows of the weak choke out the fire of the strong. 

If killing Yijun wouldn’t risk everything, you’d have done it already. That first month spent with him where you realized this would not only be a loveless marriage, but a hateful one had almost driven you to it. The Choi Syndicate could surely survive a war with the Kim Syndicate - you had better assets, stronger loyalties, and more money. 

But if the Kim family turned to the Yong family… 

Avoiding unification of the Kim and Yong families is why you were married to Kim Yijun in the first place. To murder him now would mean Syndicate war, and despite the fact that every moment with him is hateful and poisonous, you’re too nervous to put your family at risk. 

Especially with your father’s failing health, as Yijun had pointed out. 

Syndicate war isn’t the only thing keeping you from stabbing Kim Yijun until you can’t feel anything anymore. Minchan’s shadow of a presence lingers over your thoughts, one of the few threats you truly fear. Any harm to his brother would elevate Minchan to a position where he could only wield his power more. 

And he’d hunt you like a bloodhound. You’re unsure if there is any corner of the world he would leave unturned if you killed his brother, no matter how much it would benefit him if Yijun keeled over tomorrow. 

Inside your bedroom is dark. It doesn’t feel like your bedroom at all. There’s nothing homey about it, no possession or unique decor, no pictures. You wouldn’t sleep in here at all if Yijun didn’t make you, insisting that he couldn’t trust any of the house staff not to tell your father you weren’t sleeping in the same room. 

Your father doesn’t care. He stopped caring about anything the day you put your mother into the dirt. Even if he hadn’t, as long as your relationship looked functional to whom it mattered, it mattered little to him if you slept in the same room or if you even liked Kim Yijun.

He’d made that very clear the day he tore away your future with Soonyoung. 

Yijun is already snoring when you climb into bed. You grind your teeth, reaching to pull open the nightstand for noise cancelling earbuds and sleep medication. The medication isn’t as strong as the crushed up knockout you might have used previously, but it helps take the edge off without making you vulnerable to attack. 

Which is something you still worry about. 

Setting your phone on silent, you settle in for sleep. It takes a long time, but you finally drift away to thinking about smothering the man next to you in his sleep. 

Something wakes you. Blinking sleep from your eyes, you sit up in bed and look around the room. It’s dark, but you can see the barely-there outlines of the furniture in your bedroom. Next to you, Yijun is gone. You can feel the lack of presence there more than you can see it, reaching your hand over to confirm the bed is cold and that he’s not been there for a while. 

You reach for the phone on your nightstand but can’t find it. Frowning, you press your hand on the cool marble, sweeping back and forth to no avail. You lean further, finger finding the button to the light function on the stand and press down. 

Dim, lavender light halos the top of the nightstand. Your phone is nowhere in sight. It’s just your jewelry dish, a decanter for water, and your sleep medication. You’re pretty sure that you put your phone face down before you went to bed, but you can’t be sure. 

Pulling open the nightstand drawer only makes the back of your neck sweat. Your phone isn’t there, but neither is the gun you keep in the top drawer. Both you and Yijun sleep armed, despite having armed guards on the premises at all times. 

Snapping the drawer shut, you roll to the other side of the bed and pull his open. A book, a watch, some pill bottles and a pack of cigarettes fill the drawer. No gun. 

The back of your neck tingles. You rip the sheets off of you, heading to the bedroom door. The house is mostly dark when you open it, the entire second floor dim. Leaning over the banister, you can see a shaft of light falling across the room, perhaps coming from the kitchen. 

Quietly, you stalk toward the top of the stairwell, trying to reduce noise as you creep down. A high pitched whine rings in your ears, heart thundering. You have no idea why you’re so afraid all of the sudden, especially in your own house, but your instincts tell you to be alert and quiet. 

At the foot of the stairs, you confirm the light is coming from the kitchen. It’s not uncommon for people to be in the house in the middle of the night. Official Syndicate business happens at any time, and often goes into the early hours of morning. 

Tonight, it’s not busy. Before you’d gone upstairs to bed, you’d noted that it was a skeleton crew security team for the night, just a few of them at the gate house and walking the premises while you and Yijun returned upstairs for the evening alone. 

Creeping toward the hallway, you pause when you hear voices. You identify Yijun’s voice right away, holding your breath and straining your hearing as he says, “What do you want me to do here?” 

“Keep her contained. Make sure no one from her family can reach her.”

“I already took her phone and her gun.”

Your stomach drops. “Good.” That’s Minchan’s voice, you realize, dread growing tenfold. “The second she finds out the Tower has fallen, she’ll try to run or her brother will try to get her.”

“Or that psycho fuck,” Yijun mutters. 

“You’d be lucky if it was Seungcheol who came to get her. If Kwon Soonyoung comes looking, call me immediately. We’ll make our move in two hours. We’ve got the biggest team outside the Choi estate ready to go in and we’ve got men and women stationed at all the key points.”

“So I’m just supposed to sit here and babysit my wife?”

“Yes.” Minchan’s tone is nonnegotiable. “We’ll leave the guards at the gatehouse but we can’t spare anyone else. This kind of assault requires everyone. The Yong family will take care of the Pearl District and the Salt.” 

Yijun hesitates. “What about the Yoon family? Are they all accounted for?” 

“Yes. I have a team on the crazy one - what do they call her?”

“Angel, I think.”

Minchan laughs. “Demon is more fitting. Stay here. Stay by your phone. We’ll call thirty minutes before we give the signal to link everyone on comms. We do this right, and the Choi Syndicate is gone.” 

Panic presses in for a moment. Your heart hammers. Your hands shake. Bile churns your stomach. It feels like you can’t get enough air, the pieces of what they're talking about falling into place.

The Tower has fallen.

Your father is dead, and in the wake of the crushing blow, the Kim family intends to strike at yours alongside the Yong family. The realization lands like a blow, immediately slapping you out of your panic. 

Fear turns to rage. Rage turns to ice. You are fire, you are the mountain. 

Steadfast is the mountain, but the fire does burn. 

As quietly as you can, you creep up the stairs. You keep turning over your shoulder to ensure Minchan doesn’t leave the kitchen and catch you creeping back toward your bedroom. When you hit the second floor landing, you all but sprint to your room, gears turning. 

Yijun took your phone and intends to keep you locked in the house until they finish their plan. From their discussion, you know they intend to mobilize within two hours, targeting important members of the Choi Syndicate across the city with the help of the Yong family. 

It means you have only a few minutes to warn your family to respond, to prepare and to fight back or strike first. Which is hard to do without a phone, but your husband doesn’t know you nearly as well as he thinks.

Door closed behind you, you flip the lock on the bedroom door and dash for the closet. The lights above come to life, bathing you in ghoulish, grey light. You dive to the floor toward your shelf holding all of your shoes, the carpet burns nothing compared to the pain starting to bloom behind your sternum where your grief builds slowly under your anger. 

Your father is dead. The Kims are going to turn on you anyway. Your marriage to Kim Yijun to secure alliances against the Yong family was for nothing.

You’ve endured for nothing. 

Snatching a pair of boots, you swallow down the bile again. You will not break now, not when there are more important things than the time you’ve wasted withering away in this cold home. Shoving your hand inside the boot, you come into contact with what you were looking for. Your hand closes around the device, yanking it out and powering it on. 

The screen flashes to life. You press one and hold, hearing the buzz on the phone as it begins to ring. You cradle the phone against your shoulder and ear, nearly sick with the adrenaline that is pounding through you, your vision blurring, hands shaking. 

You grab another shoe, this time reaching inside carefully instead of shoving your hand in. The smooth, bone handle of a knife meets your hand and you wrap your fingers around it firmly, pulling it out. 

Soonyoung answers on the fourth ring. “Where are you?” 

“The Kim family has turned on the Chois. They’re mobilizing for a full scale attack in roughly two hours. The Yong family is helping them. They’re at the estate and all over the city - anyone who is important to us regardless of position will need to be warned. The Yong family is handling the Pearl District and the Salt.” 

“How many men are at Yijun’s estate?” You can hear him moving on the other side of the line, something rustling. Perhaps clothes as he gets dressed. “Are you armed?” 

“There are men at the guard house and one walking the perimeter. It’s just me and Yijun inside, I think Minchan is leaving. I’ve got a knife.” 

“Where are you in the house?” 

“Bedroom, second landing to the right and all the way at the end of the hall. There are windows but they don’t open.” 

“Listen to me,” Soonyoung says, voice like ice. “The second we start moving into position to accept the assault, they’ll know something is off. When that happens, Yijun is going to try to kill you, do you understand?” When you say nothing, he asks again, voice louder. “Do you understand?” 

“Yes.”

“I need you to fight back. Either kill him or hold him off until I’m there.” 

“You need to warn-”

“Don’t worry about the fucking Syndicate! We’ll be fine. You’ve given us more than enough time. I need you to be entirely focused on yourself.”

You take a deep breath, letting it out shakily. “Okay.”

“Do you have frostbyte?”

“Maybe? Yijun might have it in the nightstand.”

“Take some. Not enough to fuck you up, but enough to pump that adrenaline and make your head clear. I will be there in thirty minutes.” 

“Okay.”��

You squeeze the phone, unwilling to hang up. It doesn’t matter that you haven’t heard his voice in months. It doesn’t matter that he hates you, it doesn’t matter that you know whatever used to be between you is broken and it’s entirely your fault. You just… don’t want to hang up. 

“Hey.” Soonyoung’s voice is soft, drawing you from your trembling spiral. “Do what I said. Do the frostbyte and kill him if you have to. I have to go.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you in thirty minutes.” Soonyoung pauses, the silence heavy on the line. “I love you.” 

Nothing breaks you like those words, whispered but firm, whispered in case you die before he gets there. He doesn’t have to say that’s why he’s saying it - you know. You know the chance of him not getting there fast enough is likely and real. He does too, but instead of telling you, he gives you this. 

You whisper back, “I love you.” 

Soonyoung hangs up the phone and you fight a sob. You bring the knife up to your hand, pressing your pointer finger down on the tip. The sting is immediate, making you his in pain as blood beads on the tip of your finger, red and garish in the closet lighting. 

The sting grounds you enough to push yourself from the floor, following Soonyoung’s directions to Yijun’s nightstand. You yank it open, rattling around the contents until you find the bag of frostbyte you were hoping was there. Yijun uses it the nights he attempts to put an heir in you, numbing himself the way you never did, taking your punishment for what you’d done to Soonyoung raw.

Not enough to fuck me up, you think, untwisting the bag and shaking. Just enough to make it easier. 

Dipping the tip of your knife into the bag, you pull out a small lump of the glittering drug. You try not to think about that night at the club all those years ago, when you and Soonyoung were still dancing around one another’s feelings, doing anything you could to get a reaction out of one another. 

You take a sharp breath in. The drug hits your nasal passage and it burns, your eyes smarting as you tilt your head up, cursing and blinking away the tears. It hits the back of your throat, bitter and awful as you cough a little, trying to wait for it to clear your nasal passage.

When the burning subsides a little, you do it again. It’s less harsh than the first bump but still just as awful, making you wonder how the fuck you did this on the weekend with your friends as a teenager. Tossing the back on the nightstand, you stand waiting, closing your eyes and trying to do deep breathing exercises your therapist taught you to calm down. 

Frostbyte works fast. It hits your bloodstream and an electric calm comes over you. Everything comes into sharper focus, the adrenaline pumping as your simmering rage turns to a boil, ready to kick the fucking door down and hunt down Yijun yourself.

Nerves fade away to the background of your mind. You walk toward the door, waiting to the side so when Yijun ultimately kicks it down, you’re ready. 

Ten minutes pass. The entire time your ears are ringing, heart thundering in your chest. You think the frostbyte was a good idea - if you had to wait in silence like this without it, you would have gone crazy by now. Even with the drug, fear nips at your ankles, a hound ever on your tail. 

Yijun’s footsteps thunder up the stairs. Your heart lurches and you inch away from the door, readying yourself. He storms down the hall, fury in each step until he gets to the door and turns the handle. It doesn’t move. He tries a few more times, shaking the door. 

His roar on the other side of the door is loud and feral, making you grin as he thrashes against the door, cursing and screaming at you. The door holds, rattling in place as he slams what you think is his shoulder into it multiple times. 

The bombardment pauses for a second and then restarts ten times stronger. This time, you recognize that it’s his foot slamming into the side of the door. You realize he’s kicking where the door is latched, trying to break it open instead of kicking through it. 

A small crack sounds. You take a breath, readying yourself as you hear another snap go through the door, now rattling loose in its frame. He kicks hard again and the door blows open, nearly smacking you as it does. You roll away from it on the wall, keeping close as Yijun barrels past you, swinging his head from left to right as he looks for you.

It’s your only chance to get the jump on him. You slide from the dark, heart hammering. You’ve never stabbed anyone before, but you’ve practiced. You drive the knife upward, intending to puncture his kidneys. Yijun twists a little to the side, sensing your presence as the knife plunges into his side. 

Yijun screams. Your satisfaction only lasts a second before he throws his elbow backward, catching you in the nose. Pain explodes in your face, blinding you as your eyes water and you stumble backward hands shooting to your face. 

Removing the knife from his side, Yijun screams at you, spit flying as he comes at you. Through tears and warm blood rushing from your nose, you reach for anything to use as a weapon. Your hand closes on the ceramic artwork on the dresser and you launch it at him, hitting him hard in the face. 

The ceramic shatters and he drops the knife. You dive for it but he grabs you by the hair, ripping you upward and backward like a ragdoll. You lose your footing, screaming as he tightens his fist in your hair and drags you toward the bed, tossing you there. 

With a feral shout, you kick your foot forward, catching him in the lower gut. He grunts but wraps his hand around your ankle, yanking you back off the bed onto the floor, where the knife lays. You reach for it, seething, your hands managing to close around it just as he pivots, foot landing against your ribcage. 

Again, pain explodes inside of you. With the frostbyte, you barely recognize it, grabbing the knife and stabbing him in the calf. He shrieks and collapses to a knee, reaching for the knife. This time you rip it back out, nearly losing your grip on the bone handle, fingers slippery with blood. 

You stab him again, this time in the thigh. His knee presses into your stomach, crushing you and forcing air from your lungs. You ignore the pain, stabbing him again and again in the thigh until he falls backward off of you, muscles malfunctioning, tendons give away. 

Yijun kicks out at you with his good leg but you’re already moving, ignoring the way your body is screaming in utter agony, every part of you throbbing and begging you to give up. 

You don’t. You scramble on top of him. His hands shoot up to your throat but you spit at him, a spray of blood blinding him and making his grip loosen momentarily. It’s enough to bring the knife down home again, this time directly in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. 

For a second, he fights back. You hear the wet gasp and he thrashes, but you stab him again. And again and again and again and again -

You think about all of the times that you were forced to submit to him. 

And again and again and again - 

The way he heaved himself on top of you, trying to force a child into you so he could be done with you, the way you’d wish it had been Soonyoung instead. 

And again and again and again - 

The way Soonyoung’s face broke that morning, begging you not to do this to him. 

And again and again and again -

All for the Kim family to turn on the Choi’s anyway, wasting the entire time you’ve spent under lock and key, doing Yijun’s bidding while Soonyoung hated you. Loathed you. Wish you never happened to him. 

Again and AGAINANDAGAINANDAGAINAND- 

Yijun isn’t moving under you. Your hand is warm and wet, the knife becoming slippery as you let it go. It clatters to the floor and you sit backward on his knees. He’s unmoving as you heave, sucking down air that tastes like iron and salt. 

Sweat slicks the back of your neck and down your spine. Somewhere in the house, there’s a crashing noise. You leap for the knife, rolling off of Yijun’s mutilated body toward the door, positioning yourself in a defensive position as feet thunder up the stairs. 

You bare your teeth, knowing this is it. Knowing Soonyoung hasn’t come quickly enough but it doesn’t matter, because you warned them and they are safe. Your penance for destroying him has been paid in half, though never full, and -

Soonyoung appears in the doorway. He looks like an angel from hell, wreathed in shallow light that comes from the first floor, his silver hair stained with blood. He’s in black trousers and a short-sleeve shirt with his favorite band on it - one of his sleep shirts. 

For less than a second, he stares at you. Then, Soonyoung dives at you, dropping the gun in his head and grabbing you. You hadn’t realized that you’d sunk to your knees, looking up at him as he grabs your face, turning you this way and that. He’s asking you a question but you can’t understand him, dizzy and confused and in so much pain that the edge of your vision wavers. 

“Baby,” Soonyoung begs, his voice warped and echoey. “Hey, I need you to answer me. Where are you bleeding?” 

“S’mostly his,” you answer, feeling how heavy your tongue is. Your thoughts are sticky and slow. Concussed, you think. “Maybe broke my nose.” 

Soonyoung’s thumb brushes gently across your cheek, smearing blood. “Can you walk if I help you?”  You think about it. Shake your head. “Okay. I’m going to lift you up, alright? Tell me where it hurts so I don’t hurt you, Baby.” 

“Ribs.” 

“Left or right?” 

You pause, breathing in and feeling the pain bloom. “Right.” 

“Okay, tell me if I hurt you, okay? We’re going to take you home.”

“Thank you.” Soonyoung hesitates at your tone, looking at you. His eyes are vulnerable and open, more raw than you have seen them since you were kids. “You didn’t have to come get me.” 

He stares and stares at you. The world fades a little and Soonyoung lifts you toward him. “Of course I did,” he murmurs, so soft you barely hear what he’s saying. “When you say jump, remember?”

“Where's this?” You mumble, looking out the window at a small home behind high gates.

Soonyoung has been driving for an hour and a half, his silence nearly unbearable as you both left the city. You don’t ask about where you’re going or if everyone is okay - you don’t think you can stomach the answers right now. Not while in the car. 

Rain mists through the window as Soonyoung rolls it down to punch in a code in front of the gate. It flashes green and the metal starts to roll open, revealing a large but modest house - at least by Syndicate standards. He drives through, gravel crunching beneath the tires. 

“Safe House. Very few people know it exists.” 

“Are we in Levin?” He nods his head. You’ve never been to the small town, but you know it’s mostly a vacation village on the coast. “Who does this place belong to?” 

“Me.” You look at him, surprised. “I bought it when you… got engaged.” 

It’s like a stone sinking to the bottom of your stomach. You don’t have to ask why. It was his failsafe for you, a way to get you away from Yijun if you had just asked. 

You should have asked. Should have just thrown it away and called him, should have begged him from your knees- 

Soonyoung turns the car off and opens the door. You open yours, rain pattering against your red skin. He rushes to help you out of the car, hands hovering around you, unsure where to touch. It makes you want to sob. You want him to touch you anywhere - everywhere. 

Instead, he leads you to the house, a hand wrapped firmly around your forearm to keep you upright and steady as you walk up the steps. 

A porch light flickers on. You cringe away from the brightness, squinting through your fingers as the door opens to reveal Vernon standing on the other side. His eyes flicker between the two of you and he nods, stepping to the side to let you in. 

Warmth blankets you as Soonyoung shuts the door. You’re standing in a small entryway with a staircase to the right leading to the second floor. Straight on, the lights are on, revealing a sliver of the living room. You can hear voices pause as they hear the door shut. 

Angel materializes in the doorway, her hair damp. She’s dressed down like she recently showered, her eyes on you as she heaves a sigh of relief. “It’s Hoshi and Baby,” she calls over her shoulder, coming forward. 

Soonyoung nudges you toward Angel gently. “Take her to shower.” 

“Yeah of course.” 

“Where’s Seungcheol?” You ask, turning to look at Soonyoung, who is already looking at his phone, holoscreen lighting up his face. 

“On his way. The main crew is safe.” He hesitates. “We lost Lan, Old Man Vero and Yoon Minji.” 

Your heart seizes, eyes darting to Angel. “Angel, I’m-”

“Jeonghan is taking care of it.” For the first time in years, you hear a note of pain in her voice, raw and real. Angel has - had - a complicated relationship with her step-mother, the matriarch of the Yoong family. “I’ve already satiated my vengeance. This is his. Come on.” 

You hesitate. Soonyoung nudges you toward the stairs gently by the hip, suddenly looking tired. “Go. I’m going to find a doctor for that nose.” 

“Is it terrible?” 

He huffs, trying not to laugh. “No, but it needs to be fixed. Go. Shower.” 

I love you. It’s on the tip of your tongue, right there. I love you. It’s all you can think about, thundering in your ribcage. I love you. It consumes you, makes you freeze up, staring at him. I love you. 

Angel tugs your wrist delicately and breaks the spell. You follow her up the stairs. She’s careful with you, making you take one step at a time. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her so gentle, her eyes softened with worry and her touch on you delicate as butterfly wings. 

Upstairs, she leads you into a room that smells like vanilla and sandalwood. Soonyoung. This room belongs to Soonyoung. You spot his subtle touches, a gaming computer shoved in the corner and powered off. A closet with a metal door that is under lock and key. A single gun sitting on top of the nightstand. 

But what makes the room spin is the touches of you. A teakwood candle sitting on the dresser. Weighted blankets folded at the end of the bed. A bookshelf with all your favorite titles. A jar of saltwater taffy in multiple flavors. 

Angel hesitates by the bathroom door, watching you drink in the room. You turn to her, shaking your head, confused and mouth open. She nods. “I know. I didn’t know either.” 

“I could live and die a thousand times and never deserve him.” 

“I’m not the best judge of character, but I don’t think I believe that to be true.” 

Angel isn’t the best judge of character. But she also doesn’t say things she does not mean. She’s the last person in the world to offer words of comfort, and yet she’s standing in the bathroom staring at you like she can see through you, right down to the very core. 

Maybe she can. Seeing what is rotting people on the inside and sniffing out their weaknesses is what she does best. 

Instead of pointing out where you hurt, she manages to get you into the bathroom. It’s spacious but not grand like what you’re used to - it’s small. Safe. She starts the shower and backs away, helping you get out of your bloody clothing. 

Everything hurts so bad. Your ribs ache, the bruising on them blotchy and horrendous as Angel peels back your shirt. She thankfully doesn’t react - she’s seen worse and done worse. Suddenly, you realize why Soonyoung picked her to help you. She’s steady, her fingers sure as she holds your arm while you pull your pants down.

You don’t dare look in the mirror. From what you can see without it, it’s already bad enough. Yijun hadn’t dealt fatal damage, but you know you’re bruised and covered in dry, flaking blood. 

Angel leaves you in the shower, shutting the door to go sit on the sink, a guardian willing to give you space but ready to help when you need it. Shaking, you shuffle into the stream of hot water, hissing when it hits your skin. 

It’s both heaven and hell. The hot water feels so good on your aching muscles and throbbing pain, but it also hurts when the water taps against your nose, reminding you that it is indeed broken. You suck in sharp air as you slowly begin to work your fingers into your skin, turning the water pink as you wash off the blood. 

Blood that belongs to you. Blood that belongs to Yijun.

Yijun. 

You’re not sorry you killed him. It was satisfying and necessary. But… the weight of your grief comes crashing into you. You could have killed him years ago and ran. Could have gone crawling back to Soonyoung and asked for his help. Could have told him that the only reason you ever agreed to marry him in the first place was to protect him. 

None of it mattered. You bought him a paltry couple years worth of protection and for what? To shackle yourself to a man who thought little of you, who wanted to fuck you until you gave him another version of himself, who wanted to kill you at every moment because he knew you didn’t respect him and because he was afraid of you and the way you command respect from your family, but he never did.

All that time you’d made yourself smaller for him. Held back your bite. Hid your teeth. Mourned Soonyoung everyday, knowing that you’d never touch him again, that he would never kiss you again, that you’d never wake up in the morning when he got home from work and crawled into bed with you.

A potential lifetime of happiness, one of your own making, wasted on a promise that they broke anyway. 

For nothing. It had been for nothing, you’d hurt Soonyoung for nothing, shut him out, promised you would never leave him and threw him away, forced him to jump for you, forced him to leave you when he said he wouldn’t all for nothing nothing nothing nothing notHING NOTHINGNOTHINGNOTHINGNOTHING-

Angel’s arms are around you. You startle, looking up to see that she is in the shower fully clothed, holding you to her. You hadn’t realized you’d been crying - screaming - in the shower. She presses you closer to her, the only way she knows how to tell you that she’s got you. She’s there. She understands. 

You crumble, leaning heavily on her as you let it out, sobbing. Your throat is raw, your face throbbing each time you squeeze your eyes shut. Angel says nothing, content to hold you while her clothes soak up the water, weighing her down as you let out your grief in full, ugly waves. 

Eventually, the water starts to get cold and your tears start to dry up. You sniff and groan, the pain in your face so poignant that it can’t be ignored. Lifting your head from her shoulder, you glance at her boots, soaked and murky red around the edges.

“Can I tell you something?” Angel asks, voice low. You nod. She hesitates, putting the words together before she says, “He’s going to accept you back. He’s going to do it with no conditions, and ask nothing of you. You’re going to want to torture yourself and beg for his forgiveness and deny yourself of him because you think you should be punished, that there is not a god powerful enough to hurt you the way you deserve.”

You blink in surprise. Angel isn’t religious, despite the nickname. She also isn’t overly emotional or wordy. But you see the severity in which she tells you this, see the pain in her eyes. You remember that she has demons far older than yours, ones that have followed her since childhood. 

And she’s right. She reads you like a book, seeing the fucking pain radiating inside of you, the desire to be punished and hated and whipped- 

“Let him take you back.” Her words are firm. “Don’t make him punish you. Don’t believe for a second that Soonyoung wants to make you pay. He doesn’t. He doesn’t care what you did or why. Just… let him have you. You’ve endured enough.” 

You nod. “Alright. I’ll try.”

“Good. Um - can we get out of the shower though? It’s very cold in here.” 

You laugh, immediately followed by a groan. “Please don’t make me laugh. I am in so much pain.” 

“Yeah, let’s go get you some drugs, dude.” 

The three Syndicates of the city are officially at war. Of all the news that has poured in over the last few days, this is the least surprising. When you’d seen Seungcheol that first night after everything went to hell, he’d held you close and promised that he would kill every last Kim in the city.

He had also told you he was proud of you. Not just for surviving Yijun long enough for Soonyoung to come get you, but for being able to warn the family what was coming. Your single warning alone had saved them a great deal and wounded the Kim Syndicate more than you could understand. 

The days following your father’s death are strange. It doesn’t feel like he’s dead - at least, you haven’t truly processed it yet. There are things that demand your attention like being seen by Dr. Ymir for your fractured nose and bruised ribs, and the accounts and logistics of what being at war with the Kim and Yong family truly means. 

On the fifth day at the safe house, you go back home. Seungcheol makes you ride with him, unwilling to let you out of his sight these days. You’re the only two members of the Choi family left, and it’s up to the two of you to rally the troops and remind everyone what the mountain can do. 

Seungcheol replaces your father as the Tower of the Choi Syndicate. Typically there’s a small ceremony to pass the torch so to speak, but there’s no time for that. Seungcheol is buried in problems and trying to maneuver the family into a favorable position, but it’s hard - the Yongs and Kims have been preparing this for a while. 

You’re suddenly given a job again. Fresh in his position leading the family, Seungcheol needs those he trusts by his side, immediately appointing you as the Architect of the Syndicate. There’s no one he trusts more with the finances and the logistics of the businesses under the Choi banner and who have pledged to his family. 

With Yoon Minji’s death, Jeonghan’s takes his rightful side as the Wisdom and second in command to Seungcheol. It’s like you’d always known it would be as a kid, but it brings you no joy to see the two of them together in an office until the early hours of the morning, worn at the edges and sick with the grief they’re ignoring to push forward. 

With no surprise, Seungcheol immediately promotes Soonyoung to the lead military position, rising from Sword to Sentinel in a single night. It’s the same position his father held under your father, and Soonyoung takes it with steely resolve. 

It also means you don’t see him. You move back into your old room at home. At first, it doesn’t feel like your room at all because Soonyoung isn't in it. He had moved into your room when you first started dating, spending two years in that bed with you. Now, he’s taken up residence in his room down the hall, so close and yet the distance feels larger than ever. 

Of all the problems mounting for you to solve, Soonyoung is the most important. You know he shouldn’t be. There are a thousand other things that you need to figure out, like how to assure that the businesses you own in and near the Kim and Yong family territories won’t go under or be attacked, or how to assure that payment to the family won’t increase now that there’s a fight. 

Your days are filled with countless meetings, assuring loyal patrons that the Choi Syndicate will not fall and will not fail them, and that the Choi’s protect their own. You can see the fear in people’s eyes - the city hasn’t had the big three at war in a long time. Already the city officials are cracking down on Syndicate activity to try and establish order. 

It’s farcical at best. 

Squeezing your temples between your fingers, you lean back from the desk in your newly appointed office - which is really just your father’s. It feels weird to be in here. It still smells like leather and sweet tobacco, a little bit of smoke hanging in the air. 

The last time you’d been in this office, you’d fallen to your knees and begged him not to make you marry Kim Yijun. Now you sit at the desk, hanging up the phone as another call ends - not as bad as the first, but not as good as you’d hoped. 

Quickly, you scribble down a summary of the call to give to Seungcheol. You know he’ll read every word you write, determined to hear each concern of those under Choi patronage, whether they’re valid or not. 

At the sound of the door opening, you glance up. Soonyoung sticks his head in, surprising you. You straighten in your seat, heart racing when you take him in. His silver hair has grown longer, tapered a bit at the neck. He’s dressed in all black but he’s clean, indicating that he showered not that long ago. You thought he would be out all day like usual, looking at your watch to see he’s back far earlier than normal.

“Is everything alright?” You start to get up and he rushes to you, hands lifting to help you. “I’m alright. I am well on the mend.”

He chews his lip, nodding before dropping his hands hesitantly. “Everything’s fine I just.” He hesitates. “Do you want to eat lunch?” 

“Oh. Sure.”

Soonyoung’s smile is tentative. Shy. You give him one back, following him out of the office while sending a quick note to Jihoon that you’ll meet with him later. He sends a thumbs down back, less than pleased that you’ve not made time to talk to him about your potential murder charges for Yijun. 

“Are you busy? We don’t have to-”

“It’s just Jihoon.” 

“Ah. He’s persistent, are you sure-”

“I want to have lunch with you, Soonyoung.” 

He blushes and you grin. “Alright,” he murmurs. “When you say jump and all that.” 

That makes you pause. “You don’t have to do anything I tell you.” 

“What?” He stops walking, confused. 

“You don’t have to ask how high if I tell you to jump... I’m wrong a lot of the time. I don’t… want to be that.” 

I don’t want to repeat my mistakes. You don’t say it, but you think Soonyoung senses it when he says, “I’ve always wanted to jump for you. That hasn’t changed.” 

Let him take you back. Don’t make him punish you. 

Angel’s words come back to you so you swallow down your guilt and you nod, giving him a tentative smile that he returns. This time, he holds out his hand to take you in the kitchen. You take it, the feeling of his fingers wrapping around yours both foreign and familiar. 

The way he holds your hand in his makes you tremble. It’s something so simple and benign and yet you’re screaming on the inside, looking at where your fingers twine together like it’s everything, like it’s the only thing. 

Lunch consists of very badly burned grilled cheese. You don’t care because Soonyoung makes it, insistent that he wants to and that he can. He’s good at a lot of things, particularly on the spectrum of murder and weapons, but he is terrible at putting bread, cheese and butter in a pan. 

You eat it anyway, burnt bread and all. He sits next to you, his stool pulled so close that your thighs touch. You want to reach out and brush your fingers across his face, down his neck, through his hair. You want to touch until you’re grabbing, grab until you’re pulling. 

Instead, you let him lead this dance, too afraid to initiate. 

Let him take you back. Don’t make him punish you. 

You don’t, but you can’t let go of the fear of rejection. Can’t bring yourself to toe the line beyond what he’s giving you, which is more than you ever dreamed of. So you accept when he offers to take your plate, fingers brushing over the top of your hand either by design or by accident you don’t know. His touch makes you shiver and he notices, pausing. 

Slowly, you look up at Soonyoung. His eyes are dark and misty as ever, churning with emotion that you’re a little too afraid to read. Instead of taking the plates to the sink, he sets them down and reaches for you, cradling your face in his hands. 

A sob works its way up your throat but you force it down. You will not cry over this. You will not make him comfort you. 

“Are you afraid to touch me?” His question is gentle. You nod, eyes fluttering shut as his thumb brushes back and forth across your cheekbone. “Why?” 

“I… want to so badly. I just want it to be your choice.” 

“I want you to.” You open your eyes. His earnestness is right on the surface of him, rippling for you to see. “I’m dying for it. Please.” 

Soonyoung’s please sounds like that morning he’d begged you all that time ago. It freezes you in place, heart beating like a prey animal in fight or flight. He steps closer, his breath on your forehead when he whispers, “Please.” 

Slowly, you bring your hands up to his wrists. Licking your lips, you place your hands on him. His eyes close. His skin is warm to the touch and you feel him tremble as you brush your hands upward, tracing his forearms, his corded biceps. You brush your fingertips over the sleeves of his shirt and toward his neck until you’re cupping his throat, your thumbs resting against his hammering pulse. 

You close your eyes, remaining still. Both of you remain that way, his hands on your face, yours on his neck. You’re shaking under his touch, feel his breath against your forehead. His fingers add a little pressure to your face, careful not to hurt you where your bruise is finally fading on your nose as he turns you to look up at him. 

Soonyoung licks his lips, eyes open. “There is not a second I didn’t love you.”

And there it is. The admission that he never hated you. You bet he tried - you know he tried. You know the inside of Soonyoung’s soul better than you know your own, no part of him hidden to you even with time. 

“I don’t care why you did it,” he continues. “Not anymore. Not after everything. I don’t care about any of it. I just… want you.”

“Soonyoung-”

“I know you’re sorry. I know you hate yourself. I know there is guilt eating away at you. Get over it, because none of it changes how I feel. I love you. You’re mine. I don’t want to leave you again. You cannot make me.” 

“I know. I won’t make you.” 

“Good.” Soonyoung presses his forehead to yours gently. He’s careful not to knock noses with you too hard, aware of the pain it’ll cause. “I cannot do any of this without you.” 

“I know.”

Soonyoung’s mouth is tentative when it presses against yours. Your grip on him tightens, leaning forward into the kiss. It is everything - the only thing. You feel something wet on your face, thinking that you’ve got another nosebleed, but when you pull away, you realize it’s because Soonyoung is crying.

Crying for the first time since his parents died. 

You stand up from the stool, gripping the back of his neck to pull him toward you. He melts under your touch, letting you meld your mouths together. He tastes like his burnt sandwich and like him, his mouth warm and wet against yours. Vanilla and sandalwood invade your senses, overwhelming as you grip him for dear life, never wanting to let him go.

He doesn’t want to let you go either. His grip on your hips is crushing, fingers digging into flesh and bone as though he can force you to become one. The thought makes you dizzy. You slide your fingers in his silk-soft hair, wrapping the strands around them to pull lightly, pull him closer, pull him to you, pull him back. 

Soonyoung whines against your mouth and you break the kiss, panting. “Take me upstairs,” you whisper between peppering kissing against his mouth, his bottom lip, the corner of his lips. “Please take me upstairs.” 

He does. Soonyoung grabs you by the hands, tugging you toward the stairs that lead to your room - the room you used to share. The room that still smells like him, even if faintly. He takes you to your bed, where you’ve spent hundreds of nights with him, and lays you down gently like he has a million times before. 

Soonyoung touches you like you’re holy. His hands skim over you in worship, they scratch you in penance, they hold you in reverence. He slots himself between your knees, stealing a kiss from you like it’ll breathe new life into him, bare him anew, purge him of sin. 

You love him. You love him you love him you love him you love him you love him -

A moan leaves his mouth when your nails drag down his back. He is quaking under your touch, his mouth hungry but careful against yours, wanting to swallow you whole but knowing you’re hurt. You know he won’t break you but you wish he would.

There’s time for that later. Now isn’t the time for rough and biting. Now, Soonyoung peels the shirt from your skin, immediately covering your arms, chest, collarbones, shoulders in kisses. You vibrate under his touch, lashes fluttering as he sucks at the sensitive skin of your neck, tongue pressed flat to your pulse as he tastes you. 

You tug at his shirt and he complies, leaning upward to toss it. He’s back on you in a second, pressing you close, hip to hip as he tangles his tongue with yours, drinking you in. His touch ignites a fire and you’re burning, a complete inferno as you drag your fingers up the hard contour of his stomach to the firmness of his chest and around to his shoulders. 

“I love you,” he mutters against your mouth, rolling his hips into you. You let out a breathy sound and he groans. “Fuck I love you. I missed you. I love you.” 

“Please,” you beg. He understands, burying his face in your neck and biting down lightly. You feel like you’re going to burn up under him, an out of control blaze while his fingers work the buttons on your pants. “Never let me go.”

“Never.” 

Jeans scrape down your legs, his hands following. He drags his blunt nails down your thighs. Your hips twitch upward, loving the scratch, loving the way he touches you, loving him. He returns his mouth to yours, unable to get enough of your kissing. 

Soonyoung’s hand slips between your thighs, the pads of his fingers pressing against your clit through your underwear. You keen for him, pulling at the long strands of hair at the back of his neck. He moans in tandem, his pleasure driven by yours, loving the way you sound as you start to come apart under the gentle circle of his fingers. 

He only teases you a little, knowing the friction with the fabric between his fingers and your aching cunt isn’t enough. He finally decides that you’ve had enough, hooking a finger to pull them aside, the cool air hitting your sticky folds. 

Before you can complain, Soonyoung’s touch is there. He drags his fingers slow-soft from top to bottom, circling your clit slowly. He’s not in a hurry, dragging it out as he sucks your tongue into his mouth, sliding his fingers back down to press against your entrance but not breach it. 

You whine and he grins, pulling your bottom lip with his teeth until he lets go with a pop. “I love those sounds you make.” 

“Feels good,” you admit, head falling to the side as you close your eyes, enjoying the pressure he puts on your clit, wiggling his fingers back and forth. Your thighs close around his hand but he’s unbothered, drawing more arousal from you as he plays. “Fuck, your fingers.” 

His laugh is throaty and he shakes his head, attaching his mouth to your jaw where he sucks at the skin. He makes himself comfortable with nibbling toward your neck, both of his hands reaching for the sides of your underwear to pull them down. You let him, folding your knees toward your for a moment to help. 

Soonyoung’s hand returns to the wetness between your legs except this time, he’s not teasing. He presses a finger in deep and you whine, hips wiggling. You squeeze down on his finger, pussy spasming as he begins to pump leisurely, like he has all the time in the world.

And he does, doesn’t he? The work is far from done and the world is falling apart, but it doesn’t matter because he’s here with you. Because Soonyoung is yours again - always has been - and because he’s drawing your mouth toward his to kiss you messily, swallowing down your moans as he presses in another finger. 

Now you crumble beneath him. You can’t stop your hips from coming off the bed. You loop your arms around his neck, keeping him close, breathing the same air. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes impossible dark and half-lidded as he hooks his fingers, dragging them against that sensitive spot. 

You cry out his name and he grins. Now he knows where it is, pressing repeatedly as he fucks you on his fingers, driving you directly toward an orgasm. Your breathing becomes labored, your legs squeezing his hips, your fingers digging into his shoulders. It is so good that you think you might die, letting him yank you toward release. 

Soonyoung kisses you again and you come crashing down, cumming around his fingers, body squeezing, ignoring the ache in your ribs and the millions of other places that you’re sore. He doesn’t slow down, scissoring his fingers to pry you open, to stretch you more.

“Soonyoung,” you gasp, voice wrecked. “Soonyoung Soonyoung Soonyoung.” 

“Just like that,” he agrees. You can tell he loves the way you say his name, knows that on your tongue it means something different. “Come on, one more.” 

You’ll give him anything he wants. Never again will you deny him. You let him work you up again, feeling the way your breath gets stuck in your lungs and you shiver, another wave washing through you as you shudder around his fingers. 

When you start to pant, he pulls his fingers out. You feel the wet schlick as he does, immediately hating the way you feel empty, hating the way he leans away from you. Whining, you reach out toward him, needy. He hushes you with a brief kiss, only standing to rid himself of his jeans and briefs. 

Using the fingers covered in your arousal, Soonyoung pumps his cock, smearing a mixture of your slick and his precum down his shaft as he kneels on the bed again, taking his place between your thighs again. You watch with hooded eyes as he rubs the head of his cock through your messy folds, a moan dripping from your lips. 

Soonyoung is beautiful, skin flushed and a sheen of sweat on his arms. His stomach flexes and clenches as he presses the tip of his cock into your entrance, both of you taking a shaky breath together. He slowly slides home, the stretch of him driving you wild, pussy fluttering around him until he’s slotted to the hilt. 

He hangs his head, panting as he plants his hands on either side of your head. He takes a moment to collect himself, shaking. You turn your head to the side, kissing his wrist, peppering any skin you can reach with your love while your hands drift up his back, feeling the muscles flex. 

When he begins to move, you nearly die. It feels so good, your breath lodged in your throat. He lowers his face to yours, kissing you as gently as he fucks you. His thrusts are deep and timed, not hard or fast but slow and measured, pressing all the way in as he uses his weight to his advantage. 

Your fingers turn to talons on his back, nails biting his shoulder blades. He’s precise, the tip of his cock finding the right angle to make you nearly sob in a matter of a few thrusts. It’s familiar. Home. 

Soonyoung lowers himself to his forearms, pressing your chests together. The friction of his skin against your pert nipples makes you squeeze around him, his name a whisper on swollen, kiss-bitten lips. He presses his forehead to yours, breathing shakily as he continues to fuck you.

You feel him everywhere, feel everything that he wants to say. Soonyoung has never needed words to communicate to you and he doesn’t now, the way he shakes as he lets out a wispy moan enough, the way he slides one of his arms under your back to cradle you to his chest, closer closer closer.

He wants to be closer and so do you, arms around his neck, drawing him to you. You never want to let him go, never will let him go. You’ve learned your lesson and this, right here with him is the only thing that matters. 

“Shh,” he hushes. You realize you’re crying, tasting salt on your lips when he brushes his mouth against yours. “I know.” 

“I love you.”

“I know.” 

Soonyoung’s pace picks up only a little bit. It’s enough, sending you careening toward your third orgasm. He can feel it - needs it. He chases after your high, catching your mouth to brush his tongue against yours, rolling his hips until you’re clenching around him, whining into his mouth, lips buzzing against his.

He hums against you, waiting until your pussy lets go of its vice grip to speed up a little bit, the wet smack of his hips against yours loud and lewd, driving him forward until he comes, your name on his lips, his face buried in your neck. His thrusts slow, both of you trembling like leaves until he finally stops, remaining seated inside of you. 

“I will love you for a thousand lifetimes,” he mutters against your mouth, with no intention of moving. “You know that, right Baby?” 

You nod, fingers digging into his shoulder blades. “Leave me at your own peril, Kwon Soonyoung,” you rasp, quoting yourself that first night he finally caved, where he finally told you that he couldn’t exist without you. “I will never go anywhere ever again.” 

TAG LIST

@ddaddunugu @ourkivee @tie-nn @cookiearmy@thesunsfullmoon @stray-bi-kids @ldysmfrst @thepoopdokyeomtouched@avochele @onlywon4u @hopeless-foolery@iamawkwardandshy @gyuguys @codeinebelle @ateez-atiny380 @abibliolife @idubiluranghae @bultaereume @yoongznme @kaitieskidmore97 @coffee-addict-kitten @gyubakeries @archivistworld

If you do not see your tag here, it didn't work.

SYNDICATE ROLES

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

[fastandcarlos]

Daddy’s Princess : ̗̀➛ Daniel Ricciardo

summary: everyone always knew that daniel dreamt about being a dad girl, but no one knew quite how much he’d truly love it

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 1,493,922 others

danielricciardo: counting down the days before our next adventure begins ✨

78,506 comments

username1: these are the cutest photos in the world

ynusername: I cannot wait to become mum and dad with you ❤️

username2: already the sweetest baby in the world!

landonorris: come on baby, uncle lando can’t wait much longer

oscarpiastri: so excited for you guys, you’re gonna be the best parents 🥰

username3: baby ricciardo is going to be so loved omg

maxverstappen1: red bull baby grow incoming btw ❤️💙

username4: dad daniel is already such a vibe 😂

username5: it’s going to be the best adventure ever for you guys 😍

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo and 294,504 others

ynusername: hello world 👋🏻

38,403 comments

username6: oh my goodness she is the cutest 🥺🥺🥺

landonorris: SHUT UP OMG SHE’S PERFECT

georgerussell63: huge congrats guys, she’s adorable!!

username7: the little feet I can’t cope

username8: 💕💕💕💕

oscarpiastri: oh wow you guys, this is the best news 🧡

danielricciardo: I’ve never been prouder, you’re an absolute superstar babe 💕🥰

username9: I’m already obsessed with her!!

maxverstappen1: can’t wait to meet your little one 🧑🏻‍🍼

yukitsunoda0511: 🎉🎉🎉🎉

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by alex_albon, lewishamilton and 749,503 others

danielricciardo: reach for the stars my girl, daddy will support you every step of the way ✨

59,602 comments

username10: officially the cutest post I have ever seen

username11: daniel already encouraging his girl to dream big is peak daniel

ynusername: just don’t be an f1 driver, I don’t think my heart will take it 😂

username12: she’s already growing so tall 😭😭

alex_albon: you should become a motivational speaker when you retire, heartwarming stuff

danielricciardo: @/alex_albon 🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻

charles_leclerc: how many sunsets did it take before you took this photo??

username13: secretly pretending daniel is saying this to me

username14: is it wrong to wish that I was daniel’s daughter instead 🤔

landonorris: become a mclaren driver ydn - they’re the best 🧡

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, yukitsunoda0511 and 932,120 others

danielricciardo: the best time ever having my team with me to support me during race weekend 🥺💕

59,604 comments

username15: ahhh I’ve missed paddock yn so much

username16: the most perfect family in the world

landonorris: secretly they were there to support me 😂

danielricciardo: @/landonorris in your dreams!

ynusername: we had the best time do all of your awesome things, ydn is officially now obsessed with f1 you loser 😝

username17: the middle photo giving all the feels

username18: I need the dad daniel era to stick around forever

oscarpiastri: look at how adorable ydn is!!

alex_albon: how did you ever manage to make such a cute kid 😂

danielricciardo: @/alex_albon I ask myself the exact same question - yn deserves all the credit

username19: the hug, the smile, the love for his daughter 🥺

username20: adopt me pretty pls

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by maxverstappen1, georgerussell63 and 729,492 others

danielricciardo: can someone tell me when my baby got so big please 😭😭😭

48,503 comments

username21: it still feels like ydn was born yesterday

maxverstappen1: she is the absolute spitting image of you bro…that smile 🥰

username22: ydn is officially not allowed to grow anymore

ynusername: I’m now at work crying at my desk because of you, thanks a lot 😂

danielricciardo: @/ynusername our baby is too big…let’s have another!!

username23: petition for another ricciardo baby 🙌🏻

landonorris: now move the cup and show us the hot chocolate all over her face 😂😂

danielricciardo: @/landonorris it was everywhere 😂😂

username24: I love seeing how in love daniel is with ydn

username25: every photo he posts just makes my heart melt

carlossainz55: who knew danny ric could be so cute ☺️

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, logansargeant and 839,604 others

danielricciardo: starting my girl off Young following in daddy’s footsteps 🐴

48,593 comments

landonorris: at least ydn wears a helmet!!!

danielricciardo: @/landonorris shut up dad!

username26: not ydn being just like her dad 😭

username27: I bet daniel had to do plenty of persuading for yn to let ydn do this hahah

oscarpiastri: btw ydn looks so much cooler than you 😬

username28: can’t wait to see these two go riding together in the future

logansargeant: now all she needs is the american jacket!!

danielricciardo: @/logansargeant hey my girl is an aussie through and through 🇦🇺

username29: daddy’s little girl showing up once again 😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 1,042,594 others

danielricciardo: the best mummy in the world 🌎 I love doing live with you and our little star ✨

73,950 comments

ynusername: no one else I would rather have by my side, we’re the perfect team 💕✨

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

[kisses4reid]

missed it pt.2 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - penelope brings a belated cake for you that leaves everyone guilty. what better way to say sorry then a belated party as well?

genre - spencer x bau!fem!reader, barely angst, fluff, forgotten birthdays and sorry’s

warnings - mentions of forgotten birthdays, being sad, crying, umm cake??? y’all not rocking w cake??? y/n uses she/her pronouns

w/c - 1.2k+

a/n - thank you for the request anon! the idea is perfect and so r u for requesting it, i rock w you

request - I was wondering if you were up for a part 2 of missed it???, maybe where someone on the team suddenly remembered that it was readers birthday, and tells the rest of the team about it ( maybe in the elevator, when they’re all heading home & reader left early or smth ). And Spencer’s like yea I went to see them yesterday & they were pretty messed up about it, and they all start to feel really bad, so they come up with a plan to set up reader a berlated surprise b-day party at rossi’s or smth, and reader cries because she’s never felt so loved and appreciated before!!

Penelope scurried into the office with a leather red bag on her elbow and a large container that covered the lower part of her face. She peered over the plastic and scanned for the one person she was looking for, but instead she was met with a muscular man trying to suss out the tuperware that smelt amazingly sweet. "Hey babygirl," Morgan greeted with a smile, "You baked me a treat?"

Garcia walked further into the bullpen with Derek close behind her, "It's not for you, chocolate thunder. It's for Y/n." She replied matter-of-factly.

She placed her bag and the cake container on your empty desk and furrowed her eyebrows in the search for your presense which seemed to be absent.

JJ and Emily walked by with their cups of coffee in hand, joining Derek's confusion. Emily spoke up, "Why would Y/n need a cake?"

Spencer glanced then. He felt an unfamiliar rush of anger push him out of his chair. He bit the inside of his lip.

Last night, you had poured your heart out to him on the reasons you didn't tell others about your birthday, about much even. Would it be betrayal to expose you? Would it be kind? Spencer pondered as Penelope's mouth went agape in disgust.

She smacked each of the detectives on the arm, recieving groans and gasps from them all. "Are you kidding? It was Y/n's birthday yesterday. I was supposed to give her this yesterday but I was sick so..." Even a person like Penelope could read the subtle signs of regret on the profiler's faces. They screw their lips, glanced at each other - and Spencer - and didn't meet Garcia's eyes. Penelope sighed in anger and she started vocalising the very thoughts that were circling Spencer's mind.

"Are you guys serious? She worked 12 hours with each of you bozo's! And not one of you remembered? Not even a gift? Or a 'happy birthday Y/n'? You guys are unbelievable." She huffed and slapped her hand on the top of the cake container. "Where's Y/n?"

That's when the blonde turned to Spencer. "Uh- She went home early. She finished her paperwork pretty quickly." Emily, JJ, Morgan, and now Hotch - who had been wathcing from his office - all started packing up. Their cups of coffee were poured down the sink, and the sunshine was coming to a close. Spencer's hardened grip on his satchel was turning his knuckles white.

There they all were. Garcia's anger pouring out of her in determined and disciplining paragraphs about care and love and being a team, and Spencer's was pouring into his uneven breaths.

"I can't believe not one of you remembered. Not even Spencer! I mean-"

"I remembered."

The elevator went silent, the digital display counting down quickly. Spencer gulped and fiddled with his bag, avoiding eye contact with anyone at the memories of last night. Depressing, heart-breaking, beautiful. A lot of things happened last night. Some good, most bad.

"I went to her apartment last night with a cake. She was..." There was no lying to a team like this, "devastated."

JJ sighed, "We should do something."

Aaron nodded and brought out his phone, texting Rossi who also left early with you.

This week was full of tears and crying, snotty noses and new boxes of tissues. And today was no different. Though you promised yourself that yesterday was the last day you'd feel sorry for yourself, tears crept to your eyelashes even at the glass of the perfume Spencer had gifted you. It smelt amazing.

Your bed was a mess, your living room desolate and the kitchen long unused.

Today, you would get over it. You've gotten over it for years, why is this one any different? Is it because you thought you had found another family? Is it because Spencer proved people can care, but don't? Maybe it was because instead of wishing you happy birthday, you're father sent a photo of your sister's sports awards and asked why you didn't send her a congradulations text.

Today, you would get over it.

Today, I will get over it.

Your phone buzzed against your kitchen countertop as steam and the smell of onion and garlic filled your kitchen. You glanced, being met with a call from Derek, but being too slow to pick it up. And then suddenly there was a knock on your door.

You shut off the oven, wiped your hands on a cloth towel and tucked some loose hair behind your ears. Not only was this person interrupting a brand new recipe you had been reccomended, but also the reruns of your favourite sitcom. A sigh escaped you as you approached the door, preparing to explain that you were busy, but when you turned the doorknob you were met with deja vu.

Your team was beaming at you, all holding plates and bowls of various sweets and treats, as well as sandwiches and a large cake you assumed was decorated by Garcia.

"Happy Birthday Y/n!" They all screamed, not really in time but close enough to sound rehearsed. A smile slipped out from you as you laughed in shock. You felt your cheeks redden from the attention, feeling slightly uncomfortable and out of place, but you stepped aside to let them in anyways.

They hugged you, quietly and whole-heartedly apologised, and started setting up the surprise birthday lunch with Morgan's playlist filling the apartment. As Rossi passed he whispered, "Did you try that recipe I told you to try, the one I said at your belated dinner?"

Rossi was the only other person other than Penelope and Spencer to know your birthday. In fact, you two had the dinner planned for a week beforehand. You nodded with a smile and he joined the rest.

Spencer stood at the now closed door with a smile. He fiddled with the bottom of his sweater as he waited for you to turn to him, and when you did his hand latched onto yours discreetly. Your eye widdened slightly, gaze meeting his when he bent down slightly to whisper to you. "I wasn't sure if you would appreciate them showing up here but..." He smiled softly, "I think you deserve at least one good birthday."

Tears nearly brimmed your eyes before you heard your friends howl in laughter in the background, "Thank you, Spencer." A tear escaped you and he wrapped his arms around you. He was warm and his hold was tight with care, it made your heart stutter more than it already was. "Sorry," you giggled nervously and wiped your eyes. He gazed down at you and looked at you with confusion. "Why are you sorry?" "I'm crying at a party- A party for me." You said the last word like the scenario was a dream or seemingly impossible and it made Spencer's heart hurt. "That's okay, Y/n. As long as it's happy crying." He held your shoulders and rubbed his thumbs in comforting circles. "Yeah- Yes. I've just never felt this..."

You glanced at the crowd in your kitchen, full of people you loved and cared for. People you thought didn't care enough, but put an effort into a celebration that doubled as a massive and genuine apology for their mistakes. Nobody had ever said sorry to you for missing your birthday before.

"Loved?" Spencer's voice was soft as he finished your sentence. "Loved." You nod in agreeance, beaming at the tall boy so hard you felt like your heart was on display.

taglist (open!): @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es

[lxdymoon0357]

Hello 👋 can I pls request relationship and suggestive headcanons for Claude (wmmap) Regis (FIDWYM) and Lante Agriche with a female reader? Thank you ❤️

(some days, I'm gonna be better and consistent...:[ | Warnings: mentions of dying at childbirth, blood, murder, NSFW content, diana-claude poly mentions? idk..Anyways, NSFW content. )

© Writing belongs to me, Lxdymoon0357. Do not plagiarize, but reblogging, liking and commenting is deeply appreciated.

Claude De Alger Obelia, Legis Floyen and Lante Agriche SFW/NSFW HCs

Claude De Alger Obelia

♕ Definitely loves to spoil you! He loves to spoil you when he can, bringing jewellery, making your favourite food, spending extra time with you, buying you clothes, flowers, gifts, anything you want! He is always happy to spoil you, Athy gets a bit worried, but she also loves you and makes handmade gifts for you which you definitely appreciate!

♕ Constantly worried for your health and safety, has a maid and a guard follow you everywhere, he would let them follow you to the bathroom if it wasn't unethical, but yeah..Constantly worried something is gonna happen to you..

♕ Also, constantly making sure you're in top health, always consults doctors about anything he finds unusual on you, if you two were to have kids, he's have a long talk with doctors if you can have kids and there won't be any complications and if anything were to happen, if he'd be able to save you over the kid...

♕ Definitely not loosing you to childbirth like he lost Diana, you both are the biggest jewels in his eyes and he doesn't want to lose you like he lost Diana. Definitely thinks how you both would be with each other if you met, would you both like each other more than him? Would you be open to be with both of them or would he simply be with Diana and you'd go off with someone else??

♕ You, him and Athy spend a lot of time together, eating, tea parties, talking about trends, gossiping or anything in between about Athy's love interests or something. Sometimes even Jeanette joins you both, she's so happy to be included, but after Anastacius left with her, she was happy to learn things from far away, you gave her your blessings, she'll miss all of you but tries to find time to visit when she can..

♕ You and Claude would dance together late at night for fun, it's so quiet and so intimate and so romantic, cue you both forgetting the dance and end up making out against a wall with him leaving hickeys! speaking of them, he leaves TOO many damn hickeys, it's his love language at one point...

♕ He is a busy man, being an emperor and all, but he still finds time for you, you're the most important thing to him after Athy and he tries to find time for both of you, together and individually like during meals, before he goes to sleep, after he wakes up, free time, he loves to spend it with you or alone doing something he enjoys..

♕ He is romantic while sex, but also very rough, be careful, don't piss him off, you won't be able to sit with a bruised ass or the aching cunt or walk due to the shaking and sore legs. He knows how to make brats behave, loves you but don't piss him off.

♕ Hates it when other people stare, will go to a nearby room or maybe the balcony if he's extra mad and simply fuck you till you're screaming your throat raw with leaving hickeys and making sure everyone and especially the person is hearing and seeing the whole thing...Likes the eyes on him sometimes, don't know why but he does, maybe it gives him thrill maybe it gives him the chance to prove himself in some way maybe he gets gratification, no way. But likes the way when you're bent over and crying your eyes out.

♕ Cages your hand above your head with a single one of his own and simply fingers you before pulling away and edging you till you're asking him to properly fuck you dumb, even if he's feeling soft, he likes to do it cause you're crying face and whines and moans sound cut to him and he can never get enough of it

♕ Leaves a lot of bitemarks, hickeys, bruises, it's concerning if you don't know it's out of love and how much he can't control his strength at times..When he's about to cum, he bites your neck to muffle his own moans and whines when you're clenching down on him..One hand constantly working on your clit.

♕ Let's say they have some medicine which works as Plan B, cause keep in mind, he will be breeding you, it's one of his biggest kinks, he would love to see you pregnant with his baby who is your and his mix, Athy needs a sibling after all! Will be pounding in you even after you've gone enough, he cant help himself sometimes!

Legis Adri Floyen

◈ Now Legis would be a bit closed off, but still after a while be extremely sweet and romantic, constantly being a gentleman, holding your hand when you're walking down the stairs, gets you gifts, when you got tired, he carried you where you want, feeds you, kisses you and looks at you like you're gold.

◈ You and Jubelian have to sometimes remind him to take breaks, you and Jubelian and literally bestest of friends yet being the cutest mother-daughter duo in Legis's eyes, two of his favourite girls being together and happy and getting alone and all the cute stuff?! Oh man, he feels like he's in heaven!

◈ Loves to spend time with you and Juve when he can, bringing you both gifts and you both in return make tiny gifts for him, like bouquets or like maybe you stitched something for him on a napkin and he carried it everywhere, or maybe you and Juve went out together to choose and mix-match jewellery for Legis and then you both gift it to him, she is always so happy to spend time with her parents!

◈ He and you would spend time kissing and then Juve would be grossed out but finds it cute or maybe you and Legis would spend time sparring or sword-fighting cause women back then used to do a lot of sports including archery, sword-fighting, hiking, so maybe he would love for you to join him in sparring sometime or maybe hand-to-hand combat where you are always winning because he refuses to put in effort, he gets too mesmerised by you anyway.

◈ He would love to take you on trips to anywhere you want, get dresses custom made so no-one else can have them, have portraits painted of you, he's such a sweetheart!! He would love to have a family portrait with you and Juve beside him!!

◈ Another thing is, matching clothes!! You wear something matching in your outfits at ALL times, be it a brooch, be it the colour of the clothing, be it the way the pattern of the dress, he loves to match with you, he even has dresses which are carbon copies of some of Juve's! You both look gorgeous in them!!

◈ Kind of needs your reassurance that he is doing the correct thing, if there is something you don't like, please say cause when you do things passive and aggressively, it makes him overthink things....And if he overthinks, he cries and I'm sure you don't want your husband to cry? Yeah, that's what I thought, communicate!

◈ Okay, first he finds you cute and adorable and hot and so squishable and he folds you like a chair fucking you in matching press with your thighs pressed against your chest while he toys with your cunt and clit so sweetly, it's almost innocent in a way!

◈ PRAISE!! Of-course, the biggest praise kink is in him, his eyes start to water from overwhelming love when he is praised during sex, so just to ground him, hold his hand tightly in yours in anyway you can to remind him you're both there..He gets carried away, poor baby..

◈ Loves to see you ride him, cause it's so cute in his eyes when you're trying your best to take him cause first of he's VERY BIG, secondly you try your best to take him, struggle with it, crying for him to do something to make something out of your fruitless ventures, of-course he teases you until you beg a lot, but because he likes your cries and tears and face

◈ Speaking of crying, he won't stop eating your cunt until tears are streaming down he's pulled a good few orgasms, your cunt is almost raw but i's still drooling...and he can't get enough, you're just sound so cute and taste so amazing, but okay, he'll take pity and fuck you properly, if you don't tell him to, he'll cum from just eating you out, grinding against whatever he can.

◈ Suck him off under his desk after he's overworked, probably one of the only dilfs who moans and whimpers and can't hide them, he sounds cute, as you gag on his cock, he sounds adorable!! Not your fault it's a good way to relax him from overworking and to just tease him!

◈ He sometimes gets so lot in making you cum, he does it for a good while until he simply pulls dry orgasms, until legs are shaking, you're both covered in bodily fluids, drools, sweat, clit is engorged a bit and it hurts but feels too good for him to pull out now as you wrap your legs around his waist to keep him close..

Lante Agriche

☠ Now for this request, I will say he's like a yandere-type in love with you and he's a bit sane and okay in head. Lante would always follow you around, carrying you when he can, holding you on his lap during those special dinners with his top three favourite kids as he fed you food with his hands, does your hair, albeit a bit haphazardly.

☠ He desperately needs you be locked down with him, he would kill anyone you pay too much attention to, that includes his kids, well your kids are his favourite kids, so he doesn't want you to be sad, but threatening them is the way to go!!

☠ likes to bring you the severed head of his victims as gifts with a deranged smile, expecting praise. I hope you give some to him for the sake of your neck joint...I mean, he'd also bring bloodied flowers, a skull, some sword, some jewel, etc, whatever he finds interesting all covered in blood cause he thinks you look hot in blood and everything looks better covered in blood.

☠ Leaves hickeys on your necks, for everyone and leaves more if you try to cover them. He has no shame, not like anyone would dare to say anything, but if they did, you'd have another severed head to your collection. So enjoy!!

☠ DESPISES people staring at you for a second too late, hates it, cannot stand it, will not stand for it, will kill someone for it. I mean, he's a man known for crimes, of-course he's gonna murder someone for looking at you too long! He's such a munchy weirdo..

☠ Would have your ring on your hand AT ALL TIMES, ain't no one snatching up his weirdo, hell naw! Anyways, he gets new rings made for you whenever you need one and it's all decorated well and stuff and so now you have a ring collection and it's very gorgeous and probably cost more than the whole manor and humans who die inside regularly!

☠ He slow dances with you over the dead bodies of people, enjoying the way their bones crunch under you both as you both softly danced while you both are in each other's embrace and are softly being intimate in silence..

☠ Oh now, don't think that if he got jealous and mad at some public event he is also one to not care if he fucks you on a balcony when everyone can hear you both while you scream and wail like it's no one's business in the balcony and later on everyone's too shy to make eye contact with you, including the kids and other wives...

☠ Bending you over on his desk to fuck you all while there are people in the next room or simply eat you out until you cry, but eating you out is a unusual occurrence...He doesn't just give you pleasure without getting anything in return, no.

☠ Edging you constantly, not letting you cum until you beg hard enough or until he possibly can't take it anymore or until you do it yourself earning a punishment by him where either he overstimulates you till you physically pass out and only have dry orgasms, so there are a few options of him to choose from, maybe play the safe submissive and subservient role for a while unless you're confident in your skills as a dom to top him..

☠ knife kink, I said it. Knife kink, holds a knife to your neck while he makes you ride him, and presses it down sometimes to nick your body parts for fun and for the sadistic tendencies...