#just a character who means everything to me

[corvus-corvus]

I like comparing my answers year to year, so here’s my 2024 fanfiction-writing thoughts! If you’re curious, here’s 2023’s answers, 2022’s answers, 2021’s answers, 2020’s answers, and 2019’s answers.

1. favorite fic you wrote this year Favorite fic of the year is tied between still and salting the wound. I tried to choose. I really did.

2. least favorite fic you wrote this year For least favorite fic of the year I have to choose show me now (what harvest brings), apologies to the LaviYuu fans (me). It’s hard for me not to look at this work extra critically since it is inspired by another fic that’s lived in my heart for so many years. I also feel uncertain about my characterization.

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year

From salting the wound:

“I could never replace you,” Lea continues. The whistle begins to wail haltingly. “I just didn’t know where you went. I didn’t know what I had to do to follow you. I did everything you asked.” The kettle screams. Lea’s voice goes raw. “Everything. I killed for you. And you still—”

Gives me chills every time. Still, I’m happy to say there was some competition this year and that choosing a favorite line wasn’t instant.

4. total number of words you wrote this year 31,479 published words in 2024. As always, new unpublished words in a year are harder for me to track. I’m going to estimate somewhere around 17,630 words. Which is much less than it felt like. I wrote this answer then I found a draft with another new 26,270 unpublished words. Laugh at my failing memory. That changes the unpublished words in 2024 total to 43,900. That sounds much more correct.

9. longest wip of the year The longest ongoing work in progress is still over 17,000 words long. It’s the same one mentioned in other years. Shame me as you will.

10. shortest wip of the year 98 words of a new concept is my shortest draft from 2024.

13. favorite writing song/artist/album of this year Quiet. By nature itself.

14. a fic you didn’t expect to write she left me roses by the stairs was perhaps the fic I expected to write the least since I had to give a cuckolding prompt some real thought on what group of characters would fit that kink. Go, D.Gray-Man, go!

18. current number of wips I have 18 unfinished drafts at this moment. I am considering consigning 3 of them to the unpublished-but-I’m-giving-up archives. That’s still more than my usual this time of year. I suspect it’s because I got more works completed for events/prompts than just for the works’ sake (the kind that languish with no deadline); 5 out of 7 of my published works this year were for my Kinky Bingo card.

20. number of comments you haven’t read 0 comments go unread. Thank you for taking the time to read things I write and comment on them. It means more than you can know.

23. fics you wanted to write but didn’t This question is harder for me to answer than it usually is. I think I would just like to get more of my drafts completed and published. Three works-in-progress in particular that have an extra emotional attachment to I did not get to substantially add to in this year. We’ll count them. They are all for Kingdom Hearts.

25. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read I read almost no fanfiction this year. What I did read was keeping up to date with friends’ writing and rereading fics I kept around for emotional support. In that spirit, I want to give a shout out to A Mirror, Darkly by @mirrormystic for influencing my life for several years now. I finally got that cork board, my friend who has no idea I exist. Only took me, what, five years? Thank you for writing this. Thank you for publishing it. It has been an anchor to me.

Final Notes I am trying to take the wins where I can get them. No, I did not publish many works I feel positively about, but I did publish a lot more than I had thought I could handle in 2024. I also kept up my more frequent writing habit even if it slowed from 2023; this alone is worth celebrating because just plain writing more has always been hard for me to budget the time for. Because it has impacted me so greatly, I want to note for my future self just how hard it has become to read my own writing this year. This made it extra difficult to continue drafts and to edit. Which sucked. I haven’t figured out what the issue is yet. Some suspects include redacted life issues, boredom/disinterest with some element(s) of my writing, active dislike with some element(s) of my writing, distance from fandoms, or not writing the things I’m interested in. I’ll go into the new year keeping an eye on these to see if I can tease out the source. And, finally, I give three cheers for almost three Kinky Bingos complete! The fifth entry of the 2024 batch is on its way, though it will not be published until 2025. I’m proud I’ve been able to add fourteen new sexy stories on the Internet! Let’s keep it up! (And send me an ask if you’d like to join me!)

50 Questions for Fic Readers

What fandom(s) do you read?

If you could request more of a certain type of fic, which would it be?

What is your favorite all-time fic?

Do you ever re-read fics? How about triple-read?

Do you prefer angst or fluff?

Do you prefer long fics or short fics?

Name some incomplete fics that you wish were completed.

Talk about the ships that you read.

Do you read smut?

What’s the most hard-core smut or kinky fic you’ve ever read (be honest)!

Do you read AUs?

List a few of your favorite AUs.

What type of AUs are your favorites? Give a general description.

What makes you give up on reading a fic?

What makes you pick up a fic, what makes it sound interesting?

Name a fic that made you cry (or that made you come close).

Name a fic that made you laugh a lot.

Do you have a fic recommendation page or master list?

How many fics do you think you’ve read before?

What’s the weirdest fic you’ve ever read? Describe it.

Do you read crack!fic?

Name a few of your favorite crack!fics.

Has fluff ever made you cry? What about angst?

What’s the longest fic you’ve ever read?

What’s your opinion on reading dubious consent or no consent?

Name a type of fic you’ll never ever read.

Name a type of fic that you wish there was more of.

Who are your favorite fanfiction author(s)?

When you find an author you like, do you follow them?

How often do you read fanfiction?

Do people know that you read fanfiction?

Do you leave reviews after reading fics? If so, what do they sound like?

When you read a good fic, do you go to the author’s page?

Name a common type of fic that you cannot stand.

Name all the Work in Progress fics that you are currently reading.

Has a fic ever left you unable to fall asleep or think about anything else?

Are you good about keeping up when reading Work in Progresses?

Name some of your favorite fic recommendations pages.

Name a fanfiction author that you’re scared to talk to because they’re so amazing.

Have you ever written fanfiction or considered it?

Name a fic that has a perfect ending.

Name a fic that you wish was longer.

Do you read OT3 fics commonly? Have you ever?

Do you mainly read TV shows, movies, or books?

Do you read fanfiction about Anime?

If you could imagine the perfect fic, what would it be like?

If you had to introduce someone to fanfiction with a few fics, which would you suggest?

Have you ever read a fic containing character death?

Do you have an AO3/Fanfiction.net/LiveJournal page? Link it.

What sites do you typically use to read on?

[zombolouge]

The thing is, it's not about the Therapy Speak. It's not that everyone who disliked DAV hates healthy communication as a dynamic in fiction. It's not even about only being allowed to be a good guy, really, because most of us did do that anyways (though the option not being there is a loss I grieve even if I never chose it myself, but that's another rant for another day).

It's that DAV does all that stuff at the expense of being believable. At the expense of characters being permitted to have personalities. At the expense of emotions behaving the way emotions actually work for people. At the expense of letting the plot build tension through the stakes we're forced to grapple with.

Half the fics out there take the conflicts between the characters in the previous games and resolve them. I do it myself ALL THE TIME because I like to find a path to resolution through just about any conflict, that's what fascinates me about telling these stories. But the higher the stakes, the harder a conflict is to resolve. You CAN resolve any conflict, you CAN communicate healthily through any emotion, but you can't skip the time it takes to process it all to even be able to communicate it. As someone whose got CPTSD and recovered from many Traumas, I can tell you that the TIME it takes to work through it is not something you can fast track, and the ups and downs of your emotions on that journey can't be skipped. It doesn't matter if you know exactly how to do it, exactly how it's going to feel, or exactly what the end state will be, you CAN'T speedrun it.

DAV has stakes that are astronomical, but nobody treats them that way. Nobody experiences denial - a common psychological reaction to being presented with information that shatters your worldview. Nobody expresses any distrust in the establishments handing out this information - something common among cultures that have at times been at war, even if those wars are "resolved" in the present. Nobody really ever breaks down - something that any person is capable of under extreme circumstances, especially when facing multiple crises of faith that challenge everything they thought they knew about themselves. Nobody blows their lid because they've been repressing the hell out of everything. Nobody grieves for southern Thedas, the entire thing dying off screen and giving you, the player, NO way to engage with it in any way.

Not to mention there are barely any inter-party conflicts, when there should be a lot more. Why is everyone (except Spite) fine with it if Emmrich sacrifices Manfred to become a lich? Why is everyone fine with Illario potentially being set free if he was working with the venatori and Elgar'nan, two sources that have actively attacked everyone in the party? Why doesn't Neve resent Lucanis if Treviso is picked? Why doesn't Harding get pissed off at Nevarra for having a secret society of liches that never helped during the Inquisition's war against the breach and corypheus? Why doesn't Harding feel ANYTHING about Ferelden and the rest of the south? Shouldn't Harding resent the fact that she's stuck in the north while her home dies?

All of these conflicts ARE resolvable, but not easily. And it's not believable that they're never brought up. It's not believable that these characters skip through everything that happens with like, barely a frowny face most of the time. In DAO, Alistair leaves if you don't treat his conflicts with respect. In DA2, your party members try to kill each other if you don't pay attention to their conflicts/emotional needs. In DAI, people can leave or betray you, Cassandra throws a chair at Varric and tries to body him out a window. ALL of these can be resolved but it takes effort, and the characters get to SHOW that they're bothered by them and struggling the way a person would when faced with those emotions.

The problem isn't the therapy speak, or that everyone is loyal and won't leave, or that they aren't mean to each other enough. It's that it's toxic positivity. It's toxic as fuck to imply that anger or grief should be smiled over or else you're giving up, and it's damaging to people to avoid engaging with their own negative emotional responses to extremely negative stimuli. It's pasting optimism over very real, very weighty issues, sweeping it all under the rug, and you keep waiting for the lid to blow off the pressure cooker that creates, but it never does. It never becomes anything that emulates real emotions, which is why the whole damn thing feels hollow. Everything's dying and nobody cares, not even about themselves, and that's NOT healthy communication.

It's bullshit, half-assed storytelling that didn't tell us the actual story, just the vague idea of what it could have been.

[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.” 

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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

[solxamber]

(I sprint in like the Flash on a sugar high)

I'm here for the holiday event!! Hopefully I'm doing this right, I just love love love your writing & didn't wanna miss the opportunity.

I'd like to request the following: Scarabia, prompt #5 (It's always been you), and fluff (like romantic), pretty please!!

—🐈‍⬛

omg hi 🐈‍⬛️ anon!! and thank you <3

It's You || Jamil Viper

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "It's always been you: ; Genre: Fluff (+ very mild Hurt/Comfort)

Jamil was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, his expression carefully neutral. But his next words shattered the facade.

“What’s your type?”

You blinked at him, pausing mid-bite of the snack he’d casually handed you moments ago. “Huh?”

He shrugged, looking at the ceiling like he didn’t care, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “I’m just curious. You’re always surrounded by people—Ace, Kalim, everyone else. Surely you’ve thought about it.”

The question was so startlingly out of character for Jamil that you just stared at him, trying to figure out if this was some weird prank. But when his gaze flickered to you, there was a vulnerability there, fleeting but unmistakable.

“Well,” you said slowly, deciding to indulge him. “I guess I like someone who’s reliable. Smart. Quick on their feet. Someone who takes care of others, even when it’s thankless. And, uh…” You smiled to yourself. “Someone with nice eyes and hair. Maybe good at cooking too.”

You looked back at him, and he looked like you’d just punched him in the gut.

“Jamil?” you asked, concerned.

He didn’t answer. His lips parted as if to say something, but no sound came out. Instead, his expression twisted, heartbreak and disbelief warring in his eyes.

You laughed softly, trying to ease the tension. “You’re a sharp guy, Jamil. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” With that, you stood and stretched, brushing imaginary crumbs off your hands. “Goodnight.”

You left him there, frozen, and retreated to the safety of your dorm.

Hours later, frantic knocking yanked you out of sleep. You groaned, stumbling to the door.

“Who—” you began, but stopped when you saw Jamil.

He looked… frazzled. His scarf was askew, his hair messier than usual, and his expression was an uncharacteristic mix of panic and determination. He looked like he had run straight from his room, like he couldn’t wait another second.

“Jamil? Are you okay?” you asked, alarmed.

“No,” he said bluntly. “I mean—yes. But no.” He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, pacing in your small space. “I… I’ve been trying to figure this out. What you said. And…”

He stopped, turning to you, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “It’s me, isn’t it?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“You didn’t say it outright, but it’s me.” His voice was soft, almost disbelieving. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He looked so lost, so unlike himself, that it broke something in you. You stepped closer, placing your hands on his arms. “Jamil, you’re one of the smartest people I know. But sometimes, you’re incredibly dense.”

Before he could respond, you tilted up and kissed him.

For a moment, he froze. Then he melted against you, his hands coming up to hold you close, his lips moving against yours with a desperation that made your knees weak. He kissed you like he’d been dying of thirst, and you were the only oasis he’d ever known.

When you finally broke apart, he pressed his forehead to yours, breathing heavily. “You make it impossible for me to recognize myself,” he admitted softly, his voice tinged with awe. “You… you’re changing everything I thought I knew.”

“Good,” you whispered. “Because you’ve been changing everything for me too. It's always been you.”

“I love you,” he said, the words almost trembling as they left his lips.

“I love you too, Jamil.” You smiled, pulling him into another kiss.

Masterlist

[seaofolives]

don't have asks open, don't feel like spamming my neighbors here and over at bsky, so we're doing it all under the cut!!!

How many fics have you worked on since January?

according to ao3, 47 works! blessedly few 😌 compared to my previous years, I mean. I did not double check lmao give me proper sql access to ao3 and I can

What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?

oh man, I'm not really sure. deliberate bad endings I think??? ao3 filter agrees with me

What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)

I've slowed down since, but the honor of this question is gonna have to go to gundam witch! most of them my beloved rare pairs ofc 😌 I'll still write g witch (I have a duty to my rare pair babies) but rn, the ideas have slowed down a bit

How many fandoms did you write for this year?

four! ffxv, g witch, hadesgame and gundam wing 😂

What ships captured your heart?

right so, honorary mention to gladnis who will always capture my everything everywhere. but if I had to do any special mentions, it's absolutely olgue for g witch who I absolutely did not ship until I wrote my first long-form for them And Then. and trkt for gundam wing who are like...gladnis-lite to me for Some Reason o_o

What characters captured your heart?

like just from previous answer, trowa and quatre you know! I still don't know if I have a favorite character in wing, tho Quatre is probably the closest candidate (but I still won't buy commissions and merch of him without Trowa iygwim). but more than him and more than his boyfriend! guel jeturk my gundam son 100% 😌

Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

fandom would be gundam wing! ships would be trkt, 2x5, 1x2 and technically 1xr??? for g wing and for g witch, olgue has the sole honor of being mentioned 😂

What fic meant the most to you to write?

I don't really have smth that's like...REALLY personal to me rn but if we're talking like the thing that I put a bit more careful-crafting into, it's either love is stored in the jam or spiracle.

What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

my god why do I keep answering these things when I never know what to answer in these what-fic questions lmao. BUT UMMM technically all of them??? BUT I will give a shout out to kabilugan ng buwan bc filipino au! manananggals!! funny things you can't translate without losing some of its humor!!!

What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

by virtue of the fact that it went on much much much longer than what I expected, just the two of us (which is also what tipped me over to the olgue ship for good).

What fic was the most difficult to write?

HAHA the crying in public chapter of television romance/crying in public mostly bc despite being a gusu lover, the whole chapter is basc a whole load of suletta would absolutely not do that. but also like...the intrigue of putting suletta in a situation where she would Absolutely Do That was more compelling than whatever cheap excuse I can come up with you know??? happy to have done it tho but absolutely won't do this kind of thought experiment any time soon XDDD

What fic was the easiest to write?

in terms of like...the speed in which a fic was published from first word to permalink, what a fool believes was written in like under an hour and shared the next. I also didn't have to cut off any words to hit the 1k mark for the challenge. running up that hill was also p much like that but this one is far more quick and dirty? like I put more thought in what a fool believes than running up that hill. but in terms of like, the speed in which the words flowed out of my hands, I seem to remember developing relationship standing out.

What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?

shortest fic would be any of the drabbles I have up (all of which are exactly 100 words). longest fic would be hands down just the two of us, my olgue porn with plot fic which stands at 41,494 words 😂 is it any wonder i ship them now—

What were your go-to writing songs?

I can't write with music!! not anymore at least~~~ so actually I really have nothing to answer for this BUT, while I was conceptualizing and writing pull me in closer, this song was my ear worm:

so I took the title from that and worked it in bc it was convenient!

What was the hardest fic to title?

ALL OF IT fuck titles man!!!!! but like, especially with g witch, I never write with any titles or summaries in mind so looking for an old song that fits it (bc I stupidly decided that that was my theme for my g witch fics, hence me dropping that bullshit for gundam wing) is one of the hardest parts. and then with the other fics I just...never come up with anything that's cool and clicks, you know? like "okay, boomer" was the fing working title until I ran out of time, the rest are just puns and memes

What's your favorite title of the year?

probably "developing relationship". it's an ao3 tag, trowa is a developer and this is his and quatre's meet-cute so it's very multilayer????

Share your favorite opening line

man that's like 47 fics in the course of 12 months so I don't have a really good memory when it comes to these things? especially as openers for me are just whatever gets things going you know? but off the top of my head, I thought I really liked this one from if ever you're in my arms again:

Staring at the elevator’s display, a wicked thought asks Suletta: what would she do if the numbers suddenly went right back to 1?

Share your favorite ending line

the first thing that really came to mind here is (i've had) the time of my life which is:

But at least, the light of dawn is warm.

bc i really remember having the ending lines set even while I was just outlining the fic

Share your favorite piece of dialogue

my god

UMMMM

“We’d been together since I joined the Crownsguard…do you realize we would have been together for ten years now if we hadn’t broken up?”

from you. no you. I just like that ignis is being silly even tho he's being serious 🤭

Share your funniest line

OH OK. this one's a bit easier! maybe.

ummmmm

Ares’ laughter is quiet, compared to the noisy whir of electric fans, the tricycles roaring here and there past the open gate, and the radio blasting from the cheap counter at the end of the cramped room, where the lines ‘it’s been raining in Manila’ repeat in eternal damnation.

from okay, boomer. and the song referenced is:

What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

off the top of my head, just the amount of words that can go into a manuscript 🤣 so no it didn't change the story bc the story is the reason why I had to write all those words you know XDDD

What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

started the year on gdocs but happy to say that I think I've mostly fully migrated to ellipsus!! 🙌🏼 also I never write by hand anymore, that's why my handwriting skills are getting so shitty 😂

If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

these questions are so complicated, I never want to answer these questions next year again 😂

prooobably maybe when I finished all my writing challenges for the year? like torokatober2024, assw, spite fest and stuff! it was great getting back into challenges this year but nothing is greater than writing your own ideas you know?

Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

I finished a fic lately and I said I will do a writing break so I'm gonna try just that!!! tho the goal is to never write again for the rest of the holiday break but uhh...I'm pretty sure I'm going to start smth before this year comes to an end knowing me XDDD

How did you recharge between fics?

this year, I think I really got into the practice of resting more than I wrote and making sure I did other hobbies THO that briefly went wayward with a few gundam wing fics that I was really excited to write 😂

Did you create fanworks other than fic?

gif sets!!! it was so great getting back into them!!!

How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)

six events! fth, dark and cozy, ficwip5k, torokatober2024, assw and spite fest. I thought about attempting another exchange this holiday season but decided to nope out even before the sign-ups started 😂 I feel like there would be far less for me next year, like I've had my fill this year, you know?

If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

good job everyone for making it this far!!! 🙌🏼

What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

resting LMAO and a year in review for meee

What would you like to write next year?

man i dunno I'm done making plans lol they never come true anyway XDDD I have ideas I wanna write and I'd like to have the time to write them all, that's all XDDD

well happy new year, everyone!! 🙌🏼 thanks for joining me along the ride this year!! 💖💖💖

A slightly revised version of last year's questions! Two ways to play: Reblog and have your followers send you numbers, or answer the whole list!

How many fics have you worked on since January?

What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?

What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)

How many fandoms did you write for this year?

What ships captured your heart?

What characters captured your heart?

Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

What fic meant the most to you to write?

What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

What fic was the most difficult to write?

What fic was the easiest to write?

What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?

What were your go-to writing songs?

What was the hardest fic to title?

What's your favorite title of the year?

Share your favorite opening line

Share your favorite ending line

Share your favorite piece of dialogue

Share your funniest line

What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

How did you recharge between fics?

Did you create fanworks other than fic?

How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)

If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

What would you like to write next year?

[project-sekai-facts]

The saki glue theory isn’t true?!

I mean it is just a theory… A GAME THEO-

Okay, I’ll stop. But I do wonder why you think that especially since that theory is incredibly popular.

The Saki glue theory, at least from what I've seen, says that if Saki died in middle school it would mean that none of the units in the game would form. The things is, it literally makes no sense if you think about it properly for more than a few seconds.

Of course Leo/need wouldn't exist, because it's not Leo/need without all four of them, and Saki was a key player in mending their friendship. As for Tsukasa, by middle school he was already a theatre kid, so he's not just gonna drop that because his sister died. Yes he would be greatly affected by it but he also wouldn't quit (it's during this point that he actually pushed aside and forgot his original motivations, so he doesn't associate Saki with his dream here). And Tsukasa would still encourage Toya to rebel against his dad, so Toya still meets Akito and they still form Bad Dogs and eventually VBS.

When it comes to MMJ and N25 it becomes really obvious that this theory is grasping at straws. The main explanations I've seen as to how Saki could possibly affect them is that Shiho and Honami become depressed, so Shizuku quits idol work to be there for Shiho, and Honami never becomes Kanade's housekeeper so doesn't call an ambulance for her when she collapsed of dehydration, and Kanade dies.

It just doesn't make sense at all. Yes, Shizuku loves Shiho and would obviously be there to comfort her, but she isn't just going to quit being an idol for that. Shizuku is her own character with her own complicated feelings towards said idol job. She isn't going to drop everything for her sister. And while I think Honami would still become a housekeeper, if she didn't Kanade would just have another housekeeper who probably would've found her the exact same way Honami did. Also at least some people who push for this forget that Shiho and Honami already were not in a great place mentally when Saki was in hospital in middle school. We already have insight into how they coped with losing Saki (not in that sense) and MMJ and N25 still exist despite this. Yes grief is different, but you get the idea.

The Saki glue theory is just a cheap grab at angst rather than anything that actually considers how Saki would impact other characters and their relationships. Yes she does affect some characters but she is not going to drastically rewrite the narrative if she dies nor will everyone close to her become too depressed to function. If we're being really, really, honest, you can kinda tell this theory probably exists partially to give pointless angst to her brother, which is a whole separate issue.

Like, Saki is important to some characters don't get me wrong, but she's only important to the narratives of four, those being the other members of Leo/need, and Tsukasa. She absolutely does not affect every character in the game, even by proxy. Chart:

I'm not saying angst in fandom is a bad thing, and it can be interesting to explore darker and more negative themes/emotions with characters who don't get to experience these a lot in the source material, but within this fandom there is an issue with pulling out nonsensical explanations for dark stories, which like 50% of the time involve killing off the chronically ill character. And a lot of those are to write angst for her brother and ignoring what actually is written in canon about him and his relationship with Saki. Ableism and misogyny with one move. Real nice.

[aventurineswife]

hello!! may I req platonic sunday, aventurine, blade and jing yuan with a teen!reader like ai hoshino?

reader is a talented and captivating idol/singer, but outside of their idol persona they are sort of empty, trying to understand love and often doing self-destructive things while doing so, and as a famous idol, they have a stalker problem too :(

Behind Every Smile, There’s A Heart Breaking

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Blade x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Teen!Reader, Platonic Relationships, Ai Hoshino based Reader, Angst, Self-Discovery, Idol Life, Vulnerability, Emotional Support, Reader has a Stalker, Inner Conflict, Mentorship, Protective Characters, Manipulation, Trauma, Solitude, Psychological Struggles, Emotional Support.

Warnings: Mentions of Stalking, Emotional Distress, Self-destructive Tendencies, Manipulation, Themes of Loneliness, Vulnerability, Existential Angst, And Mental Health Struggles.

You stood backstage, adjusting the microphone in your hand, the weight of the moment pressing on your shoulders. The bright stage lights did little to alleviate the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at you. On stage, you were a star—brilliant, magnetic, adored by millions. But offstage, the glitter faded, and the walls closed in. The adoration of your fans never filled the void inside, and despite the applause, you often found yourself grasping at an idea of love that seemed just out of reach.

Lately, it seemed like the only thing that kept you tethered to reality were the constant reminders that you were under surveillance. You had a stalker, someone who had made it their personal mission to track your every move. It was terrifying, and the fear of being watched sent shivers down your spine, but you couldn’t speak out. After all, you were an idol—the show must go on.

As you prepped for your next performance, you felt a presence behind you. The air shifted, and you turned to find Sunday standing at the doorway, his soft eyes observing you with a quiet intensity. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his gaze—something soft, perhaps even caring, that made you pause.

“You look troubled,” Sunday said, his voice gentle, almost too soft for someone usually as composed as he appeared. "What is it that's on your mind?"

You sighed, looking down at your shoes, the weight of everything threatening to crush you. “I just… sometimes I feel like I'm just pretending. Everyone loves the idol version of me, but outside of that, I'm just… lost. I don’t even know what love really is, and I can’t keep up this act forever. It’s exhausting.”

Sunday’s gaze softened further, and his wings fluttered subtly behind his ears, the feathers catching the light. He took a few steps forward, his presence comforting despite the distance you tried to maintain. “You’re not alone in feeling lost. Sometimes, the world demands so much from us, and we forget to ask ourselves if it’s what we truly want. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to understand love. To find it.”

You tilted your head, a flicker of curiosity in your eyes. "You... think it's possible? After all, everything feels like a game I can’t win."

Sunday’s expression grew even more solemn. “Love is not a game, [Name]. It’s not a thing to be won or lost. It’s something we discover in moments of vulnerability, in our weaknesses as much as our strengths. You don’t have to figure it out alone, and you don’t need to carry that weight all by yourself. If you ever want to talk about it… I’m here.”

His words held a gravity that you couldn’t ignore. For the first time in a long while, you felt the possibility of something real—something deeper than the fleeting affection from fans or the hollow praise of strangers. It wasn’t a solution, but it was a start.

You nodded, finally lifting your gaze to meet his. “Thanks, Sunday.”

With a warm, almost imperceptible smile, Sunday offered his hand. “Anytime, [Name]. You’re not alone in this, even if the world feels like it is.”

The glimmering lights of the casino were nothing compared to the brilliance of the crowd that surrounded you, cheering as you hit every note perfectly in tune. They adored you, and in return, you gave them the illusion of happiness. On stage, you were flawless—a talented idol who seemed untouchable. But in the solitude of your dressing room, away from the applause, you couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness that haunted you. Fame felt like a cage, and the deeper you went, the more detached you became from the version of yourself they adored.

Tonight, you felt it stronger than ever—someone was watching you. The sense of dread that had followed you for days was now at its peak. You could feel eyes on your every movement, and it made your skin crawl. The door to your dressing room clicked open softly, and you turned to find Aventurine standing there, his eyes gleaming in the low light, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes playing at the corners of his lips.

“You look troubled,” he remarked, his voice smooth, almost too smooth. “Is something weighing on you, [Name]?”

You froze for a moment, reluctant to voice your concerns. It was hard to speak about the things that gnawed at your soul, especially to someone like Aventurine. He was too calculating, too manipulative—yet, for some reason, you found yourself wanting to open up.

“I… I don’t know what’s real anymore. Out there, I’m everything people want me to be. I’m an idol, a singer, admired and adored. But when I take off the mask, I’m just this… hollow person. I don’t understand love, and I keep making mistakes… self-destructive ones. And there’s this stalker, someone who’s been following me, and I don’t know who I can trust.” you admitted, the words tumbling out.

Aventurine’s gaze flickered for a moment, his expression unreadable, but he said nothing. He stepped closer, the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes as he examined you like a puzzle to be solved.

“Trust is a delicate thing, isn’t it?” he mused. “So many people want to give it freely, and others… would rather hoard it. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s a dangerous gamble. You, [Name], are a high-stakes game—your mind, your heart, everything you are. And you’re playing a game you might not be able to win.”

You blinked, startled by his frankness. “What do you mean?”

Aventurine smirked, tapping his fingers lightly on the side of his glass, as if deep in thought. “The truth is, people like us—those of us who play in the high stakes of fame and power—often lose sight of what really matters. People crave the illusion of control, the thrill of the game, but sometimes… they forget that the price of losing can be their very soul.”

He leaned in slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “But I’ll let you in on a secret, [Name]. The greatest gambles are the ones we don’t make alone. Maybe you’ve lost a few rounds, but there’s always a new game. You don’t have to play it by the rules everyone else sets.”

You swallowed, unsure if you were supposed to be comforted or unnerved. Aventurine’s words were a mix of both, a careful balance of truth and manipulation that only he could wield.

“I don’t know what to do anymore…” you whispered.

“Then let me show you,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Let me show you how to play the game and win. You might not understand love, but perhaps that’s just another game to be mastered.”

There was something both comforting and terrifying in his gaze—he understood you in ways no one else did, even if it came with a dangerous price.

Aventurine’s smile widened, a devilish glint in his eye as he offered you a hand, his voice low and enticing. “Shall we gamble, [Name]?”

Blade watches you perform from the shadows, his piercing eyes locked on your every move. On stage, you're nothing short of captivating—a star in your own right, your voice filling the room with an ethereal beauty. Yet, he can’t shake the feeling that something’s amiss. He’s seen it before in others: the void behind the glimmering façade, the emptiness that gnaws at the soul when the spotlight dims.

Off-stage, he knows the truth. He’s caught glimpses of the way you interact with your fans, the way your eyes, too, betray the emptiness you try so hard to hide. You’re lost, and it's evident in the way you spiral—pushing yourself to the brink, self-destructive tendencies lurking beneath the surface. Blade’s eyes narrow. He understands that kind of pain, that desire to disappear into oblivion, to break free from the chains that bind you to this hollow existence.

He doesn’t need to ask you about the stalker; he’s already seen the glint of fear in your eyes after your performances, the way your steps falter, and how you always look over your shoulder. Blade knows all too well the weight of being hunted, of feeling like your every move is being watched.

"You think you're strong," Blade murmurs, his voice low, "but you are already broken."

His words aren’t meant to harm; they’re a reflection of a truth he understands all too well. You’ve built a wall of smiles and cheers, but it’s fragile. Behind the glittering idol persona is a person in need of saving. Blade’s expression softens, just a fraction, a hint of something almost compassionate in his gaze.

“I don’t need to be saved,” you respond quietly, almost as if you’re convincing yourself. “I can handle it.”

His broken sword glints in the dim light, a sharp reminder of the destruction he’s already walked through. He steps forward, his presence imposing, but oddly calm. "You can try, but in the end, nothing can erase the cracks."

Blade doesn't offer false promises of rescue. Instead, his presence is one of quiet understanding—a dark figure who has also lost too much and wandered too far. If you need someone to guide you through the abyss, perhaps he's the last person you'd turn to. But for now, he stays close, a protector in the shadows. Because even if you don’t understand the need for help, Blade does.

Jing Yuan is known for his calm demeanor and calculated approach to leadership, but even he can’t ignore the weight you carry. As an idol, you shine brightly in the public eye, drawing attention with your talent and charm. But beneath the surface, Jing Yuan sees the fragility that you hide behind the mask of perfection.

He often watches you from a distance, his sharp eyes perceptive as always. You're young, far younger than most of the people he commands, and yet the burdens you carry seem to age you in a way that troubles him. He knows the toll fame takes on someone, how it chips away at your sense of self, leaving only fragments of the person you once were.

Jing Yuan never asks too much of you. He knows that sometimes, people who appear the strongest are the ones who need the most protection. He’s seen you falter off-stage, when the lights fade and the cameras stop rolling. The emptiness in your eyes, the uncertainty in your movements, it all speaks to a young soul adrift, unsure of where to go next.

"You need not bear this alone," he says softly one evening, his voice almost lost in the quiet hum of the room. You stand beside him, the weight of your burdens pressing down on you.

You glance up at him, a smile playing at the edges of your lips, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m fine, really. I’ve got everything under control.”

Jing Yuan watches you for a long moment, his gaze steady and unyielding. He’s not here to lecture you, not to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. He knows that advice falls on deaf ears when someone is as lost as you are. Instead, he offers his presence—quiet, reassuring, like the calm before a storm.

“Control is an illusion,” he murmurs, a deep understanding in his voice. “True strength is knowing when to ask for help.”

You stiffen, not used to hearing such vulnerability from someone like him, a leader so accustomed to managing others. But his words strike something within you, something buried beneath the surface. He’s not asking you to reveal everything. He’s simply offering the space to breathe, to exist without the pressure of having to perform for the world.

There’s a moment of silence between you, the two of you standing side by side, both aware of the quiet loneliness that you carry. Jing Yuan doesn’t speak again right away. He doesn’t need to. His quiet support is enough, a reminder that even those who walk the path of leadership carry their own burdens.

And for just a moment, you let yourself be still, feeling the weight of his unspoken understanding. Maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to fight this battle alone after all.

[writingwisterias]

Following on from previous Leon Eras, how do you think all the different Leon Eras would react to a best friend or S/O that's been there when he's seen Ada and knows how he feels about her, so they're always feeling a little bit inadequate? Like there's always that little voice in the back of their mind telling them that they're not good enough for Leon and that they'll never be as good as her? Especially for the best friend who's secretly in love with him, they probably never said anything earlier because of their insecurities, I imagine that RE4R Leon would almost pretend not to see it because he's torn between how he feels but DI Leon would be the kind to keep you locked in a cuddle until you feel a little bit better about yourself

Hi Anon!

So I do think this is a really interesting idea especially since how Leon reacts to ada in the game is important to his character's development! However this is no hate on ada because I love her and would do anything she asked me to 👀

Warnings: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, insecurities, slight angst

GN!Reader

RE2:

This is where Ada becomes a big impact in his life and how he would view/trust people in general

So if you started dating him after the events of raccoon City I would say it can be hard to deal with

Not only his insecurities about your loyalty would feed into the relationship, he's constantly watching for underlying meanings in your words

But also he's just generally guilty in what happened at the end

I don't think he would be hung up on the kiss they shared, but I do think how he reacts to people and forming a trusting bond when they ask him to do things would be difficult.

Because he doesn't see her after the events of raccoon City until Spain I don't think seeing her would cause a problem to you.

Just the trauma she added to the night unintentionally

RE4R:

Now we enter more interesting territory where their relationship is now complicated

If you are dating him whilst he goes to span the first thing he does is tell you he saw her

He's going to be very open about it and would probably tell you everything she did

I think he admires her in her constant watching and protective nature over him whenever she knows it or not

That being said I do think adding you into the mixture of their complicated affection would cause some difficulties

He's trying desperately to be respectful over your feelings but also he has a lot of questions for Ada he wants answering

I think he would tip toe around the line of knowing it's wrong but purely so he can get the closure he needs

He's willing to take the chance that you would be understanding when he does eventually tell you

Infinite Darkness:

We don't actually see Leon and Ada interact in this Era of him

So if there is any discourse about it, I would say it's because he keeps mentioning her

Maybe he doesn't mean to or he doesn't understand what he is doing but he's constantly talking to you about her

I doubt it's all praise, nor would it be about her looks but the constant mention of her name would eventually get to you

If you mention it he would probably be upset because she is a large part of her life but he would get over it I'm sure

Damnation:

Okay this is where things begin to complicate with their relationship and you

There is that one line in the film where it suggests that they did have a night together

I don't think he would hold that over your head in anyway. He's not comparing you to her at all

But you are

Let's say you are his partner and joined him on this mission, you are a witness to the banter and cant help but feel a bit jealous

Like she's everything you aren't in your own eyes

I think he would get a bit frustrated with how you are taking it and the fact you never seem to understand that he only cares about you

You can't blame him, it's silly to be jealous he wouldn't be with you if he wants her

But seeing how he reacts to her and their history does make you sad

RE6:

This is the main game we see their relationship almost end but also left open

So we will replace you with Helena because it's more interesting.

It turns the situations into he prioritized her safety over yours even though he is in a relationship with you.

He doesn't actually realize what he's done until after the events of the game and he has a lot to make up for

I think it would take him a while to realize as well like he's not going to understand why you are upset straight away

Not because he's dumb but because in his head she needed more help

He would get frustrated with your reaction and not really understand where you are coming from because nothing happened. There was no kiss or anything

It ended with a goodbye and a promise to maybe see each other again soon.

And that's what angers you, until he figures that out it would be rocky whenever she gets mentioned

Vendetta:

Again we don't see Ada interact with Leon in this so if there is an issue it's because he's bringing her up

And of course he will...he's drunk and hates the world

So I don't think he would bring her up in a negative way so when you do get touchy about her- he's confused

I think he would dismiss your concerns because he's literally not said a good thing

It's not until you explain it to him that he understands it sounds like he's still hung up on her

So he would make an effort to show you that's not the case, whenever that's literally saying it during sex

I'm talking like major praise towards you..he would never say her name during that time but imply that you are better

It does work sort of because he is worshipping you but is also doing it on the base of hating her

Eventually he would get distracted by something else to hate on and it wouldn't be a problem

Death Island:

He's not bringing her up as she's part of his past at all

But let's say you are both out n about and he catches the eye of someone that looks similar to her

He then has to explain it to you because he freezes and double takes

The explanation of the complicated history would make it difficult for you because what do you mean this woman has been through almost every important event of his life

Very quick to reassure you he's not seen her in years nor does he want to

He's very content with how his life has turned out and doesn't want you to think otherwise

He would understand if you need constant reassurance over the topic he's more mature so he understands how the situation can be seen

[kingofbodyrolls]

EMILY 😭😭😭

I know I took my sweet time getting here, but OMG, I finally read it—and let me just say: HOLY. DRAGONFIRE 🥵🔥 This is officially my favorite fic of yours EVER, and it’s now nestled comfortably in my all-time top 10 faves. Like, it was that amazing. The characters? Flawless. The story? Jaw-dropping. The worldbuilding? Mind-blowing. The steaminess? OH MY GAWD. It was sheer perfection, and I’m here to unload my fangirling chaos in what is practically a novella of a review. (Spoilers below the cut, because this fic deserves everyone’s eyeballs on it, spoiler-free!)

But first, for anyone on the fence wondering, “Is this worth my time?”—let me make it crystal clear: FUCKING HELL YES, IT IS.

Like dragons? This is for you.

Into magical worlds with injustice lurking in the shadows? For you.

Need a fierce, take-no-shit OC? THIS IS FOR YOU.

Banter, brattiness, possessiveness, and smut that will leave you dripping in more ways than one? It’s basically your new obsession. Read this masterpiece immediately. I’ll wait.

Now, onto the essay. (Strap in, Emily, because I’m about to scream.)

The Setting: Okay, Frosthill might sound like a snoozefest town (lol), but THE FOREST? The dragons? THE DRAGONLAND??? I was absolutely feral for it. The running, the danger, the dragons flying overhead—it’s all so vivid. And OC wearing her dad’s clothes to sneak into the forest? Very Mulan vibes, and I’m OBSESSED. Plus, the subtle commentary on the dangers women face and why they can’t carry weapons? Masterful worldbuilding.

The Characters:

OC: A badass queen searching for her father, navigating danger like a pro. Love her. I’m adopting her.

Jimin: My poor baby scapegoat 😭 The guilt, the resentment—everything about his situationship with OC broke my heart, but I’m SO proud of her for setting boundaries and stepping into her power.

Namjoon: Um, EXCUSE ME??? This man. THIS DRAGON-MAN. You wrote him so perfectly that I can see him, Emily. His aura? Big “important leader who could wreck your life (and you’d thank him)” energy. And the tension with OC??? The banter, the slow simmer of it all? I’m deceased.

The Dialogue: Absolute chef’s kiss moments all around, but THIS LINE: “How does one ride a dragon though?” you ask. Namjoon stares at you. You stare back, and realization dawns. “I mean—I—for travel,” you stammer, blushing like mad while Namjoon loses it. 😂😂😂 I was CACKLING and blushing at the same time. A perfect moment to cut the tension while also making it worse, because we all know what she really meant.

The Emotional Hits: The crying-on-his-shoulder scene? So tender, so raw, and so perfect. Namjoon being possessive? AND LEAVING HIS CLOAK FOR HER??? (I know, I know, it turned out to be Tae) Girl, I SCREAMED. Literally, I am ready to sprint into that forest myself and steal her man if she doesn’t make her move immediately (for clarification I don’t picture myself as the reader; always a third person. Yes. I dissociate, hard).

The Cabin Scene: Emily. EMILY. A snowy mountain, a personal cabin, and the line “So I could ravish you in peace.” ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! I am shaking. My panties are practically nonexistent. And when he called her princess? Just—STOP. This is top-tier torture, and I am loving every second of it.

The Smut: Listen, I don’t even know how to describe it. This was transcendent. The buildup with all the banter and brattiness? Perfection. Namjoon’s golden markings on his human body??? Gold, Emily. Literal gold. And “My human. I’m going to fuck you and make you mine.” 🫠 My soul left my body, and I am not coming back. Also—bonus points because she rode him!!!

The Ending: I love how you ended it on a funny, lighthearted note with telepathy between the dragons. The banter, the teasing—it’s such a perfect balance to the intense emotions and steamy moments. Your humor shines through, and I adore it so much.

Emily, this story isn’t just a fic. It’s a whole-ass experience. Thank you for writing it, for sticking with it, and for tagging me so I could bask in its brilliance. You’re amazing, your writing is brilliant, and this? This is an absolute masterpiece. I love you and your dragon-filled brain 😭💜

Chef’s kiss. Mwah 😘

How To Train Your Human

Summary: You went into the woods looking for your father, however you ventured too far west and ended up in the territory of the dragons. You thought you'd be incinerated on the spot as tradition states that humans can only enter dragon territory once a year, however it seems your defiance and stubbornness is rewarded when the leader of the dragons takes you under his wing.

Word Count: 18.6K

Paring: Dragon Shifter Namjoon/Reader. Side Jimin/Reader

Rating: 18+/M for Mature

Tags: Porn with plot, shapeshifter dragon Namjoon, angst, mentions of throwing up, slow burn, sexual tension, Taehyung is a little shit, smut, so much smut, size difference, size kink, vaginal fingering, eating pussy, dirty talk, strong powerful Namjoon, hand jobs, dragon joon has a big dick, he can smell when she is aroused, Dom Joon, spanking, nipple sucking, belly bulge, unprotected sex but he does not cum inside (be safe!), happy ending

Authors Note: This whole thing started because my friend told me she just finished reading a fantasy book about a girl who falls for a man who can shape shift into a dragon and well here we are. This is one of those fics where when I reread it I'm in shock at what I wrote because god damn she spicyyyyy. (And probably one of my favorite Namjoon fics I've written)

also very much based on this tumblr post because WOW

as always likes comments and reblogs are appreciated and Thank You for reading!!

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“Wait! You can’t! Seriously!” A male voice called to you over the sound of the wind as you hiked your skirts higher to avoid the big puddles left behind by last night’s rain and stomped into the town you had spent so much time avoiding as fury and anger rolled off of you in waves, threatening to evaporate anyone who stands in your path.

“I said leave me alone!” You called back to him, not bothering to look at his handsome face as you marched through town watching the people of Frosthill stare at you in shock.

It isn’t very ladylike to storm through town, hiking your skirts up and yelling at someone but you felt this town had ridiculed you enough to the point where you could act out a bit.

“Please! Just listen!” A warm hand closes around your wrist, and you whirl around to face him, your jaw clenched and your eyes wide. He keeps a strong hold on your arm to hold you back.

“Jimin I have heard enough. There is a person! A human! Missing! And your father sent you to what? Shut me up. Reassure me he is doing everything he can while he sits in his office and does fuck all?” You curse rolling your eyes when an older woman standing a foot away tuts at your choice of language.

Well fuck her too

“You can’t just storm his office. He sent me to reassure you we are doing everything possible to find him.” Jimin says eyes wide, as you rip your wrist from his smothering hold and let out a maniacal laugh

“He has been missing for a week Jimin. I highly doubt it.”

You don’t bother to wait for his rebuttal, instead, you trek on as most of the town is now outside their homes staring at you with a mix of shock and fear.

You delicately stepped over a puddle and continued further into town, whatever spell Jimin was under seemed to break as you could hear him calling for you over the wind as you blatantly ignored him once again and finally made it to the town square.

Families were out for their morning walk and nearly jumped out of the way at the sight of you trampling up to them, face screwed up in anger and jaw clenched tight. Little kids were playing by the fountain and they all whispered behind their hands as you passed, you had a feeling you knew what they were saying, old tales passed down from their parents but you continued to march on.

Leaves swirled around your feet and the wind carried Jimin’s pleas for you to stop and listen but you ignored it all over the blood pounding in your ears as you finally made it to The Governor’s office.

The tall brick building stood out against the rest of them as it was the nicest in the square.

You could feel the townspeople closing in as if this was Saturday morning entertainment, and you tried your best to shake that off as Jimin finally caught up to you and once again grabbed your wrist.

“You’re making a scene. Stop this foolishness.” He commanded in a tone that sounded so much like his father that it made you stop and reevaluate.

But a person was missing.

They had been missing for a week

Doing a job for The Governer who didn’t bother looking for him

A whole new surge of anger swelled inside you and you once again ripped yourself from Jimin’s grasp.

“Who cares if I make a scene? This is what they want isn’t it?” You cry out, loud enough for the surrounding people to hear you

Jimin lowers his eyes.

You bite your lip.

“You know full well why I’m doing this Jimin. It’s been a week. Seven days. We both know what lives beyond the town line where he was sent by The Governor.”

Jimin has nothing to say.

Because of course, he doesn’t

“You know why I have to do this. And if you try to stop me again-”

Your voice lowers so only he can hear, you lean in and take in his musky sweet smell and press your cold lips to the shell of his ear.

“That thing I did a couple of nights ago with you, in the barn… consider it done. Forever.”

Jimin’s eyes widen and a blush coats his cheeks as you give him a wink before climbing up the stairs, leaving him dumbfounded at the bottom before throwing open the doors and heading inside.

The lobby is warm and eases the cold that seemed to soak through your bones on your walk here and when you spot The Governor’s receptionist you can’t help but smirk when you see her horrified look at you standing in the office.

'“Good Morning is The Governor busy?” You ask, keeping your voice sweet as you lean on the desk and the door bangs open behind you.

Jimin.

Great.

“I-Uh-Well- he seems to-uh”

“Perfect I’ll see myself in!” You exclaim not waiting for her to stop blabbering as you push open the door to her right and head into the narrow short hallway that leads to The Governers office.

You can hear Jimin muttering something to her but you pay it no mind as you walk the hallway and Jimin’s right behind you again.

You stand in front of the intimidating oak door and poise your hand to knock when you feel Jimin’s presence behind you.

He doesn’t say anything for once and for that you are thankful as you knock three times and a deep voice tells you to enter.

The office is spacious and filled with dark oak furniture and luxurious chairs that probably cost all the money your family has and when he looks up from the papers on his desk he seems not at all surprised to see you.

One of the townspeople must have tipped him off.

“Ah, Jimin didn’t I tell you to talk to her, not bring her here.” Mr. Park says wearily as he shuffles more papers as if it will make him look important and Jimin fidgets next to you.

“I came here myself. Jimin had nothing to do with it.” You say boldly as you don’t bother to wait for an invitation that won’t come and instead, you take a plush dark green chair by his desk and plop yourself down into it.

If The Governor is scandalized by your behavior he doesn’t show it, Jimin however makes a noise in the back of his throat which you choose to ignore.

“Well, I have a feeling I know why you have stomped through town all the way here but do enlighten me in case I am mistaken.” The Governor says leaning back in his chair and taking off his glasses wiping a hand down his weary face.

“Well, I’d like to report a missing person, though according to your son, you are doing everything in your power to find him. I just wanted to make sure as it has been an entire week since he has left. On your orders, I might add.” You snarled as Jimin seemed to press himself further into the wall behind you and The Governor looked shocked you were so boldly talking to him like that.

“As I’m sure my son stated we are-”

You cut him off.

“Jimin did a great job of filling me in on all the things you are doing but I’d like some results, Governor. You sent my father out to gather mahogany for a town project and he was more than happy to do so even though this town has treated him so poorly. Did you do this on purpose to send him away?” You ask flattening your hands over your skirt to hide how badly they were shaking.

“Send him away? Are you accusing me? We did not do this to send him away. We need that wood to rebuild some furniture items in townspeople’s homes. The beds are falling apart. Children are sleeping on the floor. He is the town’s carpenter and inventor after all! He was the perfect person for the job!” The Governor cries out

You stare at him shifting in your chair and letting your thoughts run wild. He has been missing for seven days. He was supposed to already be back but never came home. He has actually been gone for eleven days but he said the job would only take four days, mahogany only grows in the deepest and thickest parts of the forest, where all types of creatures live.

“Governor you know as well as I do that this job was only supposed to take four days. One to head to the deep woods, two to cut down some trees, and one more to haul the wood back. He has been gone for eleven days in total. You are a smart man. We all know the lore and traditions we uphold. You know what lurks in the deepest parts of the forest where said trees grow. We all know the treaty that was formed over two hundred years ago. Did you send my father to his death? He has been called the town lunatic for quite some time now, inventor turned carpenter after the incident with my mother. It would be easy to send him on an impossible task to get rid of him.” You ponder keeping your voice steady and low as your stomach turns at the possibility of it being true.

The Governor shifts in his seat and shuffles more papers on his desk seemingly worried at what you are accusing him of.

“We do have concerns about him not coming back, the only problem is our best men are currently out in the eastern town dealing with some business. Yoongi and his men won’t be back for another two weeks and we can’t exactly call him back for one missing person.” The Governor admits wiping at his brow as you sink lower in your chair.

Two more weeks?

“I can’t wait that long. We can’t wait that long and you know that!” You cry out.

“I understand the concern but my hands are tied.”

“You have other options. Go into the forest and talk to the dragons. You must have a good rapport with them after sending them offerings for so long!” You beg and The Governor lets out a harsh laugh.

“Visit them? When we only visit once a year? The treaty that was signed said we would not impose on each other’s land except once a year to give each other gifts as a sign of peace. Invading their land just to ask about a missing person is suicide!” He cries out face red

You slump further in your chair hanging your head.

“Listen I’m going to be frank with you here. I want your father to be okay. I do. After what happened with your mother. I know how important he is to you and how he’s all you have. But this town just doesn’t have the manpower. All of my men fit for the job are out with Yoongi. This town is ever growing and changing but we just don’t have the manpower right now. And no woman is fit for the job.” He says with a high laugh as if that thought alone is absurd

“So you are going to have to wait. Sorry, that is my final word.” He says eyes full of sympathy but you don’t dare look into them, you received too many of those looks when your mother passed.

However, his blatant comment about how now the woman is fit for the job sent a new wave of anger and hatred through you. In your eyes, women were just as powerful as men regardless of what The Governor or the townspeople thought. You could easily overpower Jimin if you had to and when you whirled around to see him giving you the same sympathetic look his father was giving you an idea formed in your head.

You stood up and bowed slightly to The Governor.

“I appreciate your words, Governor. Can we make a deal? I will be patient and not bother you again until Yoongi’s men are home if you promise me once they are healed up and ready they will go out looking for my father. I would also like it in writing please.”

The Governor’s eyebrows raised but after sending you a simple nod he drew up the papers and within ten minutes you both had signed and the paper was tucked safely into your small pouch that hung around your waist.

“Thank you for your time Governor.” You say humbly as you once again bow and you hear him tell Jimin to be a gentleman and walk you home.

You snicker as everything falls into plan.

The Autumn sun is weak but still feels nice on your face as Jimin keeps a hand on the small of your back as he takes you out of the village and to your humble little stone house at the very edge of town. He is talking the whole way home but you don’t hear him over all the plans and ideas that are swirling around your head.

Jimin’s hand is warm on your back and you shoot him a grateful smile when your house finally comes into sight.

It’s nothing big or fancy. Just a two-story stone house with a coop and barn in the back surrounded by giant trees of many varieties that seem to always cast the house in its shadow.

Jimin brought you right up to the front of the house hand still on the small of your back as the sun dipped behind a cloud casting everything in darkness for only a moment before reappearing.

“There you go safe and sound,” Jimin says with a small smile on his face as you finally lift your head to stare at him.

“Thank you for walking me home Jimin. Even though I was off the handle earlier I appreciate you looking out for me.” You say smiling shyly.

“I’m always happy to help.” He says looking down at your lips not so subtly and you can’t help but smirk.

'“It is quite chilly out here don’t you think? Want to come inside and get warmed up before you head back.” You offer with a tilt of your head as Jimin nods and you let him into your tiny but cozy home.

You move around lighting candles and getting the fire started as Jimin takes the house in. He had never been inside your house as most of your rendezvous had been in the barn out back amongst the soft hay where no one could see.

If anyone knew he was sleeping with the carpenter's daughter.

He shuddered to think what would happen.

Lucky for him you didn’t seem to mind the secrecy and something about the thrill of being caught seemed to turn you on.

Jimin felt his pants tighten when he thought about that night in the barn. How warm and wet your mouth was, how hot you sounded moaning under him as he breached your wet folds with his cock.

You turned around startling him from his lewd thoughts and when your eyes flicked downwards he knew he had been caught.

Jimin also looked down to see his cock sticking out obscenely from his light-colored pants and he blushed furiously as you smiled softly and walked towards him, gracefully slow like you had done time and time before.

“That must be uncomfortable.” You comment reaching a warmed hand down to cup him through his pants and Jimin hissed at the contact.

“I was just…thinking.” He finished lamely as it seemed all the blood in his body had flooded his cock and left him feeling dumb and slow with his words.

“And what would you be thinking about that got you so excited?” You coo applying more pressure and palming the head in a way that has his cock twitching embarrassingly fast.

“The barn. What we did. In the barn.” He says as his eyes flutter closed and his plush lips part to let out a content sigh when you begin to stroke him through his pants.

“That night was memorable for me too you know.” You whisper, unable to stop yourself from leaning closer to him and nibbling gently on his ear.

Jimin shudders at the combination of your mouth and hand and in an instant he pushes you against the small wooden kitchen table and his lips attack yours in a fiery kiss.

You moan into his mouth and your hands leave his bulge to pull him into your small bedroom.

Hands come to rip at buttons and undo laces and by the time you are both stark naked in front of each other, you begin to go at each other again with a new fever that makes you moan and throw your head back as Jimin’s mouth explores your perky breasts.

You reach down to stroke his hardened cock and you feel how much arousal is dripping out of him as you gather it and slide it down his heated length, flicking your wrist as you get to the head making him twitch in your grasp.

“It was so hot watching you stand up to my father like that. Fuck I was so worried I would get erect when I was in his office,” he admits between kisses as his fingers come down to play with your entrance.

The sun is slipping lower in the sky and you know you have to get a move on.

“Fuck me. Jimin, please. I’m so wet for you!” You cry out when his finger circles your clit in a way that makes you arch up into his touch.

You know Jimin well enough to know he likes it when you beg so he pushes you down on the bed lightly and grabs your legs forcing them open.

You see the lust glinting in his eyes when he lines his cock up to your dripping entrance and when he enters you the moan that leaves your mouth is obscene. You throw your head back to give him a free show as he finally fills you to the hilt and takes in your naked form under his body.

“You are so beautiful. You know that right?” He asks as you nod and begin to fuck yourself down on his cock. Taking him this quick will result in you feeling sore the next day but you knew you had to act fast so you began to fuck yourself against him like a needy animal.

Moans were spilling from both your mouths as he fucked into your harshly. The old bed creaked under your bodies but you both didn’t seem to mind the noise. You arched your back to get him deeper and whined out his name as you felt your high approaching quickly.

“Jimin-gonna-f-fuck.” You cry out as his fingers come down to circle your clit and you tip over the edge crying out his name and cuming hard around his length.

Jimin pulls out of you once you recover and spills his seed all over your naked stomach and chest as you watch in awe how his cock throbs in his fingers and how his seed paints you.

Once spent, Jimin flops down on the bed and you head to the small bathroom to get cleaned up. You don’t bother redressing as Jimin has seen it all before and when you come back to your small bedroom he is still on the bed fighting the urge to sleep.

“That was incredible.” He breathes out as his cheek is smushed into one of your pillows and tiredness seems to take over his body.

“Jimin you seem tired. Rest here before you head back.” You coo as you sit on the bed and rub his back in soothing circles.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose?” He asks, though his eyes do flutter closed.

“You are never imposing. Get some rest.” You say kissing the crown of his head as he falls into a peaceful slumber.

-----

Jimin wakes because he feels cold all over. He lifts his head to take in his surroundings and realizes he is still in your home. He smiles to himself as he takes in your scent still lingering on the pillow and when he turns over he expects to see you there patiently waiting for him to wake up.

What he doesn’t expect is for the bed to be empty.

He sits up and slowly dresses himself before moving from room to room to look for you. Worry rises in his chest when he sees all the candles were extinguished and the fire was put out, it wasn’t even warm anymore which meant it must have been put out ages ago.

He worries that someone took you until he sees a note on the table from you.

Thank you for the dagger.

Jimin pales and runs a hand down his front before realizing he never put back on his scabbard. He took it off in the frenzy and left it on the floor of your room.

He runs back to the bedroom but his weapon is nowhere to be found and he lets out a groan of frustration.

You took his dagger. Why the hell would you take his dagger?

Then it dawns on him, you weren’t making peace with his father after all. You were only complying because you had given up on his father ever helping you. Instead, you used his son to steal a weapon that women were not allowed to have and you were going to traverse the cold woods by yourself. That was why you were so eager to bed him. You needed him to fall asleep so you could steal the weapon while it was still daylight.

Jimin bit his lip. He wasn’t sure what to tell his father. No one would believe you had played dirty and overpowered him to steal his weapon. And he couldn’t exactly walk into his father’s office and tell him he had been off having the most mind-blowing sex with you and his weapon got stolen.

Jimin sighed and left the small cabin, briefly staring at the woods that loomed around your property. Hoping you made it back safe as you were the best fuck he ever had.

-------

The woods behind your house were like a second home to you. The air was crisp with autumn and the leaves crunched under your boots as you grabbed at the scabbard around your chest to make sure it was still there.

You had left Jimin in the little cottage alone and hoped he wouldn’t mind that you had borrowed his weapon, well you guessed he didn’t have a choice as you had left over an hour ago.

The crunching of the leaves was the only sound as you traversed the woods and kept close to the path that had been set out before you by generations of woodcutters.

You were grateful you had the idea to change into your father’s clothes before leaving, as a woman alone in the woods was dangerous.

You passed the mighty pine trees and birch trees, knowing that the trees you were looking for were much deeper in the woods.

The air smelt of campfire and you tried your best to steer clear of that as that meant people, and you didn’t want to run into anyone on this path.

You pulled your cloak hood higher on your head to hide your hair as you walked through the woods, ears prickling at every sound around you as you went deeper and deeper.

The trees seemed more spaced out here and you knew you were getting close as dusk was approaching. Surviving a night in the woods without cover was not an option so you kept your eyes out for a small cave that you could hide in until daybreak.

A noise to your right caused you to jump and place a hand on your heart but it turned out to be a small fluffy rabbit sniffing the ground a foot away.

You continued your trek until you found a small cave that was perfect to spend the night in. Your parents had taught you basic survival so you were able to get a fire started and get a can of beans cooking as you waited out the night.

-------

Once morning arrived you cleared everything, checked once again you had Jimin’s dagger, and ventured off into the world.

The town of Frosthill seemed miles away by now and you wondered if anyone would even notice that you were gone beside Jimin.

You shook your head as you pulled your hood up against the morning air.

Not one single person cared when you were in town so why would they bother to care now?

You hiked for several hours. Vaguely aware of where you were going you followed the narrow dirt path and tried your best not to trip on leaves or roots that stuck up from the ground.

The path became narrower with each passing hour and doubt filled your mind as you wondered if this was even the right way.

The path was so covered by leaves you weren’t sure anymore as you twirled in a circle and took in your surroundings.

If you went too far West you would be in their territory and you shuddered at the thought.

Clouds were starting to roll in and you wondered if you were going to get another autumn storm as you peered up into the sky.

However what was blocking out the sun was not clouds, but two dragons circling the area.

Oh shit.

Their bodies were long and wide as their wings flapped carrying them miles within a single second. You clapped your hand over your mouth to stop from screaming as your eyes scanned the area. You needed a place to hide and now.

You had ventured too far west.

You were on dragon land.

You knew the stories of what happened when a human set foot on Dragonland without permission, usually, they never made it out alive.

The dragons were still circling the area seemingly looking for something and you hurried through the woods in search of a cave or a big bolder, anything to hide you.

As you panicked the dragons above seemed to hover in midair as you ran through the forest in search of a hiding place. Twigs and leaves were crunching under your boots and branches slammed at your arms and face. You tried your best to stay upright as it seemed the very forest you were in was trying to reveal you.

Everyone knew you could not outrun a dragon but you didn’t know what else to do as your heart hammered in your chest and every fiber of your being was begging you to run and hide.

You stumbled across a big rock and hid behind it just as something touched down beside you. The scream you let out seemed to echo through the trees as you clapped a hand over your mouth and stood in shock as a dragon landed beside you.

You had never met a dragon before, only heard the stories, so being this close to one was frightening.

It was a big black dragon but you could see gold flecks in his scales as he stared at you. His eyes were narrowed and curious as you stood as still as you could, hoping somehow he couldn’t see you.

Another thump had your chest heaving as you backed yourself into the cold mossy rock as the other dragon touched down on your other side.

This dragon was much bigger and instead of having golden-flecked scales this one’s scales seemed to shimmer a bright iridescent pink and you forced yourself to breathe and not pass out.

The dragons had you blocked in on both sides and you cursed yourself for not heading toward a body of water. Sure maybe you would have frozen to death but it would have masked your scent and made it harder for them to find you.

Bile rose in your throat but you fought to swallow it down as the dragons seemed to stare at each other unsure of what to do.

If they were going to kill you for stepping on their land could they at least get it over with instead of leaving you here frozen in fear as you try your best not to throw up on yourself?

The dragons finally seem to agree as one of them gives the other a slight nod before launching itself into the sky making your hood fly off your head

The other dragon wastes no time and uses its claws to hold you firm before launching itself into the sky after the bigger one.

Your scream gets swallowed by the wind as the dragon follows the other and they take you miles away from where you were just standing. Tears stain your cheeks as the wind whips around.

The journey is short and when you see land coming into view you once again swallow down the bile rising as trees of red and yellow and brilliant orange come closer.

The dragons start to descend and you close your eyes as they seem to nosedive back down to earth.

The dragon that is holding you lets go right before they hit the ground causing to you stumble and hit the mossy earth hard as they touch down gracefully ten feet away.

A harsh pain shoots through your shoulder at the landing as anxiety is gripping you tight, keeping you sprawled out on the forest floor as you breathe in the scent of moss and earth and your senses seem to come back slowly one at a time.

You hear huffs and grunts and bravely lift your head to see the dragons eyeing each other and communicating.

Their sharp eyes flick to yours and for a moment you wonder if it would be best to play dead but you know the scent of your sweat from nerves would give it away, so instead you stay down on the ground and await for what comes next.

The ground shakes and the earth seems to uproot as something much larger and scarier comes into view.

A grand dragon, like nothing you had ever seen before touches down in front of you. This dragon was huge with tar-black scales and wings that were so wide they took up most of the clearing. The dragon’s eyes were pure gold as was his belly. His wings were a mixture of gold and black giving off a sense of importance as he lifted his head and sniffed the air.

He must be the head of the dragons and you knew you were in trouble.

You dipped your head low and prayed under your breath that someone would come to save you when the two dragons that brought you here let out a series of snaps and growls, clearly informing their leader what had happened.

You stayed close to the ground shivering in fear as the leader let out a low warning growl and both the dragons that found you shot into the sky and left you alone with the biggest dragon.

You were visibly shaking, your dagger bit into your chest as you stayed flat on the ground. You didn’t dare make the first move as you felt the dragon sniff the air again and then with a flash he grabbed you in his large talons and dragged you off.

You covered your mouth to stop your scream as he dragged you further into the woods, knocking over trees and storming over land as he found a cave suitable and threw you inside.

Your body hit the earth hard and you moaned in pain as you rolled in a ball and waited for death to take you.

Instead, however, you noticed an eerie silence as the dragon seemed to be doing nothing at all. Your heart hammered in your chest as if it was fighting to stay alive and you steeled yourself before lifting your head.

Gone was the dragon and in its place was a man.

You gasped and shakily stood up bracing yourself on the wall of the cave as you took him in.

He was tall, a lot taller than you with dark hair that fell into his sharp dragon-like eyes which were now a deep brown color instead of gold. His lips were full and his jawline was sharp. He was wearing a simple black outfit that kept most of his body covered but you could tell by his silhouette he was fit.

He procured a black cape and tossed it your way without looking at you. Instead, his eyes were on the sky above as if he were waiting for something. You felt the material under your hands. It was silky but the inside was made of fur and would keep you warm as you held it in your hands you looked up at him with utter confusion.

“Put it on.” He demanded in a gruff tone as you followed his orders and threw it over your shoulders. It smelt manly and spicy and something carnal swirled inside of you.

“What? What’s going on?” You asked as your legs finally gave way and you sunk to the ground. You didn’t wait for his reply and instead, you crawled to the corner of the cave and got sick against the wall.

The man waited patiently for you to finish and when you wiped your mouth and turned around he was still staring at you with those eyes you were sure could see right through to your very soul.

He radiated power and authority and you felt embarassment creep up as you just got sick in front of him.

“What-where? What happened where’s the dragon?’ You asked feeling silly as you slumped against the cold and damp cave wall and you wiped your brow eyeing him standing there.

“How do you suppose we interact with you humans during the yearly offerings? You think your kind can speak dragon. Please.” He scoffs as if your question offends him and you draw the cloak he gave you closer around your body to ward off the chill.

He must sense your distress because he leaves the cave for a moment and returns with firewood. He plops it on the ground in front of you and turns on his heel transforming himself into the big dragon he was once. You push your back against the wall in fright but all he does is blow a small fireball at the fire to light it, then with another turn he turns himself back into the handsome man that was standing before you moments ago.

Your head is swimming with questions and your mouth feels like it has been filled with cotton as you sit by the fire and take it the warmth.

You sit in silence for quite some time until he interrupts your racing thoughts.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions as do I. I have to go out on patrol and will come back and we will talk. You stay here.” He says in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

“That cloak has my scent so no other dragon in the area will come after you while you are wearing it. If you think of leaving it is your choice but I do warn you it's better to stay where you are for the time being.”

He turns his broad back to you and before you know it he is out of the cave and transforming into his scaly self again before he launches himself into the sky.

You don’t know what to think or how to even begin to process what just happened as exhaustion takes over your weary body and you curl yourself in a ball under his cloak and fall asleep.

-------

The smell of food is what wakes you and you lift your head to see darkness has fallen and he is back with two other humans you don’t recognize.

One is just as tall as his leader with a shock of pink hair and is poking at something on the fire. The other is shorter but still very muscular with dark black hair that gives him a boyish look, you notice his hair is flecked with gold as realization dawns on you.

The two dragons that brought you here were now in human form.

You slowly sit up as the leader’s eyes snap to yours over the fire and you stare at him sheepishly not sure what to say.

“Well, good morning sunshine.” Comes the pink-haired man’s voice as he pokes at the fire again. The one with the gold-flecked hair shoots you a soft reassuring smile and you feel yourself soften.

“Namjoon said you humans get hungry often and he can’t cook for shit so he had us cook some stuff for you so you don’t starve.” The pink-haired one says cheerfully as you inch closer to the fire and take in the rabbit that is laid over it.

You hope it’s not the rabbit that startled you earlier but you realize you can’t be picky in what you eat so you nod slowly at the men sitting before you and draw the leader’s cloak tighter around you.

Namjoon.

The name suited him.

“The way you were dressed, we thought. We thought you were a lost woodcutter. If we knew you were a woman. Well, it’s still good we snatched you up.” The pink-haired one said as he poked at the rabbit again.

“Is it?” You ask timidly as Namjoon stares at you causing a shiver to run down your spine.

“Yes. You are much safer here than wandering lost through the woods. How did a woman end up in the woods so off the path anyway?” Namjoon asks with a tilt of his head.

The two other humans look at you and you feel anger bubble inside of you.

“What is the big deal if a woman is lost in the woods? I’m not some helpless thing that accidentally wandered in and got lost on the trail. I kept myself alive just fine before you showed up!” You retorted crossing your arms over your chest.

“You misunderstand me,” Namjoon says calmly not at all bothered by your outburst.

“Women of our kind are…strong and capable. We do not look down on them or lock them away as your kind does. What I mean is how did you get so lost in the woods and what were you doing in the woods anyway.”

The pink-haired man rotates the rabbit on the fire as the gold-flecked one sits closer to you as if you are about to tell a thrilling tale.

“I was looking for my father. He got lost in the woods seven days ago. He was cutting down mahogany trees for the town to repair some furniture. I went to The Governor to send out a search party but unfortunately, The Governor is useless so I took matters into my own hands. I didn’t mean to wander into your territory that was a mistake.” You say.

“Foods done.” The pink-haired one says lowly as he takes it off the fire and begins to cut the meat up offering it to you first on a small piece of wood.

“Where are you from?” Namjoon asks as he refuses the food served to him but the other two dig in with fervor.

“Frosthill.” You reply as you slowly bring the food to your lips not able to deny your hunger any longer as you slowly and carefully eat.

The gold-haired man snickers and Namjoon rolls his eyes.

“Yes, we have noticed that Governor Park is useless. Always so twitchy around us.” He admits with an alluring smirk as he throws more kindling on the fire to keep the flame alive.

“So you wandered into the woods, taking a dagger that you so obviously stole to look for your father?” Namjoon asks after you finish swallowing your food.

You nod.

“That’s very admirable of you.” He says thoughtfully as you continue to eat and try to hide the pride that is glowing in your chest.

“After you eat you will sleep and we will take you back to town tomorrow.” He says after a beat of silence.

“I can’t leave!” You argue as you place your food aside and stare at him in shock.

“These woods are dangerous surely you can’t stay.” He argues back

“The Governor said it will take weeks for Yoongi and his men to return from the east. It would be over a month since my father disappeared. He’s my last living family member. I’m not leaving! I won’t leave until I find him!” You demand standing up.

The other two seemed to shrink back against the wall and you wondered if anyone ever argued with Namjoon before as the two of them seemed frozen in shock at your words.

“You are leaving by daybreak and that is final. We can’t have a human running through our woods something could happen.” He says now standing up to match you, even though he was a head taller you still stared him down with the intensity of a hundred flames.

“You might be their leader but you aren’t mine Namjoon. And I’m not leaving without my father. So either I find him or you and your dragon pack do.” You threaten as you hear a gruff growl in Namjoons throat and you can almost feel the palpable anger roll off of his body.

“Pst we aren’t a pack. We are a flight. Just saying.” The pink-haired one says as Namjoon snaps.

“Seokjin. Jungkook. Out. Go patrol the southern border. Do not come back until you are told.”

The two scramble to follow their leader’s orders as they bid silent goodbyes and leave the cave, moments later they take to the sky leaving you alone with the angry leader.

“I’m not leaving without my father.” You reiterate as you cross your arms over your chest and stare him down, feeling anger and frustration bubble up inside of your chest.

Getting captured by dragons: big mistake.

Arguing with a dragon: even bigger mistake

“You are the most stubborn human I have met.” He says lowly as you smirk proudly at him over the fire.

“What? Are other humans too scared of you to fight back?” You taunt as he moves gracefully from his spot across the fire until he is right in front of you.

His musky scent fills your nose and before you know it he pushes you back until you are backed against the cave wall. His hands are on either side of your head keeping you locked in and when you stare up into those sharp eyes they are now slowly turning gold as a rumble is emitting from his chest.

“I may not be your leader but if you want to stay alive you have to do as I say. It is not safe for you here. You veered too far past the line and are deep in dragon territory. If Seokjin didn’t smell the fear on you… if Jungkook had not grabbed you-” He shook his head unable to complete his sentence.

“Then find my father and get me out of here. If you try to remove me by force I will just wander into these woods again. I’m not leaving without him.” You say sharply as you stare up into those eyes that are now pure gold.

“You dare test me human?” He asks voice laced with danger as he moves in closer and you feel the hair on your arms rise.

“You dare sit back and do nothing?” You taunt unable to stop the words from tumbling from your mouth.

“You are in my secluded cave, my dragons made you a meal and you are wearing my cloak and you dare argue with me?” He asks again as his lips ghost over your jaw and despite yourself, you arch into his touch as your nipples brush against his broad chest.

The air crackles with tension and you feel arousal pool between your legs as you stare at him, neither of you willing to back down and instead are locked in a stare-off. He huffs deep in his chest and you cock an eyebrow almost daring him to come closer.

“I’m not leaving without my father.” You say to him again, clenching your jaw as he moves in even closer, bathing you in his scent and pinning you against the wall.

His scent fills your nose and you can feel his breath come out in small puffs as his hand curls into the wall beside your head bringing some of the loose limestone down on your shoulders. Your heart beats rapidly in your chest and your eyes flick down to his plush lips.

He once again growls low but this time it almost comes out as a whimper and your eyes flick back up to his as he continues to stare at you with an eyebrow cocked and his jaw clenching.

You won’t back down. You have learned enough times that most people saw you as a helpless woman. You felt as if backing down would solidify that so you stood your ground as you puffed out your chest to match his didn’t break eye contact.

Electricity crackled throughout the cave and you pushed yourself even closer trying to intimidate him but instead, you could feel the swell of his hard cock pressing into your stomach. He was achingly hard against you and when you pressed further you could hear a strangled groan leave his lips as his eyes fluttered closed. You let out a gasp and Namjoon pulled away backing down as you stayed plastered against the wall breathing heavily.

If what you felt was what you thought you felt this man was fucking huge.

And you were rilling him up in more ways than one.

Before either of you could speak another human entered the cave and waved his hand in the air as if warding off some smell.

“Fucking hell Namjoon the pheromones in here could kill a person.” He jokes but stops short when he sees you plastered against the wall breathing heavily.

“So the rumors are true?” He asks as his dark fluffy hair falls into his eyes and a mischievous grin paints his lips.

“Get out of here Taehyung we are leaving.” He demands as Taehyung eyes you curiously.

“Well sorry to break up this steamy moment but there is trouble in the south that you need to come attend to.” He says smoothly as Namjoon runs a hand down his face.

You feel a blush coat your cheeks and you try your best to hide how aroused you feel as you break his stare and instead look at your feet.

“That’s why we are leaving. Let’s go.” Namjoon barks as he grabs Taehyung by the scruff of his neck and throws him from the cave.

“Stay here. We will discuss finding your father when I get back. Keep that cloak on.” He barks as you nod and he disappears out of the cave you can hear his wings flapping as he shoots himself into the sky.

-------

When you wake up it is already daybreak and Namjoon is sitting by the fire alone poking at it seemingly lost in thought.

The events of yesterday play over in your mind and you feel yourself clenching your thighs as you fight back the urge to run over to him and sit on his lap, hoping to feel his hard cock all over again.

Something about him, his stature, his power, the way he had you pinned against the wall, how his breath fanned over your face had you aching for him a way you had not ached for anybody in ages.

“I know you are awake, I can smell you from here.” He growls as you sit up abruptly and close your legs.

“You can….smell me?” You ask pulling the cloak around your shoulders and feeling embarassment creep up.

“Of course. How do you think you were found? Seokjin smelt your fear.” He says matter of factly and you hide your face in shame.

So Namjoon could smell how aroused you were yesterday.

Well, that’s just great.

“I knew you could smell things like that. I just- Is that why you got hard yesterday? You could smell me.” You asked feeling bold as Namjoon’s lips drew into a dangerous smirk.

“I talked to some of my best and most trusted Dragons and they will be out patrolling looking for your father.” He says ignoring your previous question as you inch closer to the fire and bathe in the warmth.

“Hoseok will be here soon to feed you,” Namjoon reports not making eye contact with you.

“You can’t do it?” You prod as you look out at the cave entrance at the sunny day and long to be out in the sunshine.

“I’m a leader for a reason. I have skills that others don’t and vice versa.” He says teeth biting down into his lip.

Before you can respond a man enters the cave with a rabbit flung over his shoulder and he is the least dragon-like you have ever met.

Though this whole meeting dragons thing was still new to you.

He was tall and built but smiled like a million suns as he greeted you. He was friendly and kind as he got to work prepping the meat and placing it on the fire to cook. He had a million questions for you all of which you were happy to answer as Namjoon sat brooding and didn’t say a word.

The air was soon filled with the smell of cooked meat and Hoseok plated some up for you and offered some to Namjoon who politely declined and you wondered if he was going to eat at all.

Lucky for you, Hoseok kept the conversation alive as you ate, and when he bid you farewell, you missed him instantly.

“So now what?” You ask Namjoon as you wrap the cloak around your body and sigh contently.

“It depends…will you listen to me and follow directions?” He asks boldly cocking an eyebrow as he stands up from the cold earth and wipes his palms on his pants.

“Depends on what you’re asking.” You say following his lead and standing up.

He seems to stand there in quiet contemplation as you cross your arms over your chest and wait.

His eyes flick to yours briefly before shaking his head as if he is clearing it.

“Sorry Jungkook won’t stop whining about his duties today and I have to hear all about it. I’m usually better at blocking him out.” Namjoon explains as he extinguishes the fire and runs a hand through his messy hair.

“You can….communicate? Without him being here?” You ask.

“Yes, we can communicate through our thoughts if we so choose. That’s how I knew where to meet Seokjin and Jungkook when they grabbed you. They warned me a human was in the forest.” He explained calmly.

“That’s so cool. But I also feel like it would be annoying at times. I like having my thoughts to myself.” You say brushing your hands down your body to get rid of any dirt from spending the night sleeping on the floor.

“Yes, it can be taxing at times. Taehyung for instance wouldn’t fucking leave me alone yesterday even though I asked him several times to stay away.” Namjoon grits out as a low growl leaves his chest and you can’t help the blush that coats your cheeks.

“He was in your head….when we were….”

“I told him I was in the middle of something.” Namjoon grits out, his annoyance obvious which causes you to giggle.

“Well just because we were interrupted doesn’t mean we can’t continue.” You implore as Namjoon shakes his head with a smile tugging at his lips.

“If you are willing to follow my instructions I was thinking I could take you to where the mahogany trees grow and we could look for your father. It is far so you would have to ride on my back.” He says ignoring your previous comment.

“Wait hold on. You said you could smell when….. so Taehyung could… ohmygod!” You cry out not listening to what he said as your mind reeled with what happened yesterday.

Namjoon chuckled darkly as you covered your face in embarassment,

“Still on that, I see. Yes, Taehyung could smell you. Between the two of us, we stunk up the whole cave with that.” Namjoon said as you finally removed your hands and could see a faint blush coating his cheeks as well.

You didn’t know Namjoon for long, but something about this big scary leader of Dragons blushing before you was quite charming.

“I’m so embarrassed oh my god this is awful I should apologize to Taehyung.” You fret as you begin to pace the cave.

Namjoon just laughs which causes you to stop in your tracks to stare at him.

“Believe me the last thing you need to do is apologize to him. The amount of times I’ve walked in on him in the same position. Don’t worry your pretty head about it.” Namjoon reassures as you let out a small relieved sigh.

“So as I was saying before you got distracted I was thinking I would take you to where the mahogany trees grow and we can search the grounds for your father.” He continues

“How would we get there though?” You ask.

“You would have to follow my instructions no matter what so we can get there safely.”

Your thoughts run wild as you ponder the idea. It was very nice of Namjoon to offer to do this for you, especially after yesterday’s difiance and you give him a curt nod as he smiles, showing you two dimples you had never seen before. Then again you didn’t think you ever saw him smile until now.

“How does one ride a dragon though?” You ask

Namjoon stares at you

You stare back and the realization of what you said dawns on you.

“I mean-I- for travel.” You stammer as you feel your cheeks heat and Namjoon once again blushing wildly.

“If you trust me I would take you on my back, probably a lot better than me holding you like Jungkook did,” Namjoon replies as you fasten his cloak tighter and try to ignore the images in your mind of you riding him a much different way.

“If you see another dragon hide yourself against my back. We don’t want others to see you. Humans are not supposed to ride dragons and haven’t for years. You must stay hidden. You must not be seen.”

He turns his broad back to you and exits the cave turning into a dragon. You slowly and carefully mount his back, which almost feels like climbing a mountain with how large and wide he is.

Once you get yourself comfortable you give him a playful pat and Namjoon rockets himself into the sky as you hold on for dear life.

The sun is warm on your skin but you can hardly feel it over the rush of the wind as it takes you higher and higher into the clouds. The air is dense up here but he doesn’t keep you here for long as he dips back down towards the trees and finally levels out taking you away from the cave and towards your small town.

The ride is short and lucky for you no other dragons seem to be nearby as Namjoon circles a clearing before touching down and letting you gently climb off his back.

He extends his great gold wings to stretch them out before turning into a human and standing up.

The clearing is still full of mahogany trees but you do notice some of them had been cut down.

Namjoon lets you take your time surveying the area but stays close to you in case. His presence makes you feel safer as you walk quite a ways but find no sign of your father anywhere.

“Nothing?” He asks softly after an hour of looking and you shake your head, tears spilling hot and fast down your cheeks.

Namjoon pulls you in for a side hug and wraps his arm around you letting you cry into his shoulder. The dragon part of him is reminding him he has better things to worry about than the affairs of this human whom he had only met, but the human part of him aches at the loss.

Namjoon lets you cry as much as you need to, holding you steady against him and protecting you from the wind.

Once you calm down you wipe your nose on your sleeve and push your hair back from your face.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to cry all over you like that.” You mutter as you wipe your tears away as quickly as they come.

“It’s okay I don’t mind.” Namjoon comforts you as he keeps you tucked against him.

“I really don’t want to leave without him. I can’t leave without him.” You whimper unable to hold back as more tears fall.

“We can keep searching. You can stay for longer but…”

His question lingers in the air.

“Isn’t there someone at home missing you? Or looking for you too?” Namjoon asks you.

You let out a bitter laugh and shake your head.

“My father is the only family I have left. He…was an inventor and one day something went wrong with one of his inventions and it ended up killing my mother.” You squeezed your eyes shut at the painful memory.

“He gave up inventing and instead became a humble carpenter. I almost wonder if The Governor sent him in here to die. The whole town thinks we are strange and we have been outcasts ever since. I doubt anyone in the town even misses me. Well maybe except Jimin, but he’s just in it for a quick fuck.” You say with a bitter laugh as Namjoon seems to stiffen beside you.

“You are having sex with The Governor’s son?” Namjoon quips with an eyebrow raised.

“Not often. Just. Whenever we feel like it. I- I don’t have to explain this to you.” You say feeling suddenly shy as you pull away from his embrace embarrassed at yourself for opening up to him like that.

“You don’t have to explain yourself I just-”

“What!” You shot out unable to stop yourself.

“You thought I’d sit at home and wait for the perfect man to sweep me off my feet. Me?! An outcast after what happened. The poor girl who had to take care of her father after he blew up her mother. Do you think anyone wants that? Wants this?” You cry out unable to look at Namjoon as you yell into the empty forest.

Namjoon is patient and lets you rant but his heart aches for you. He doesn’t know the extent of what you have been through but he knows that you have all this pain inside as you keep yelling and ranting, pacing the forest floor.

Just as you are losing steam Namjoon runs towards you and pushes you against a tree, his palm warm against your mouth as he holds you steady and quiet.

You cry out in shock and anger as his eyes sweep behind you, keeping you steady behind the tree.

“Shush. Someone is here.” He growls low, cutting off your protests as you can hear the crunching of leaves, someone is walking nearby.

“We are on human land we have to go. I’m going to let you go, you will climb on my back and we will get the fuck out of here. Understood.” He demands eyes glowing gold as you nod and Namjoon lets you go.

You see him transform and nearly let out a scream as you see an arrow fly through the woods and hit a nearby tree.

You don’t stop to look back as Namjoon extends a wing to hide you and before you can climb onto his back he grabs you in his talons and launches himself from the ground.

The air whips your hair around and the only sounds you can hear are the wind whistling in your ears and the sounds of Namjoon’s mighty wings carrying you away.

-------

The news comes while you are asleep.

Namjoon is in the cave and keeps the fire going to keep you warm when Seokjin touches down outside.

Once inside the cave, he is back in his human form and drops more food for you on the cave floor as he takes in your sleeping form, wrapped up in Namjoon’s cloak and snoring softly.

“We have things to talk about Namjoon,” Seokjin says softly not wanting to wake you as he plops down beside Namjoon eyes wide with worry.

“Aren’t I the leader here?” Namjoon grumbles but he still turns to face Seokjin as you let out a soft snore.

“Yes, but what you did today was wreckless and could have gotten you killed. Then who would be our leader? Jungkook is beside himself thinking he could have lost you.” Seokjin says as Namjoon averts his eyes.

“Going on human land to look for her father. Are you out of your mind? You could have flown over but no you had to touch down and transform on human land too. Yoongi is too good with a weapon Namjoon.”

“It wasn’t Yoongi. He’s still east according to reports.” Namjoon responds still poking at the fire.

“Well, whoever it was they have good aim from what I hear. Sure we could overpower a human if we had to but you were on their land. If they killed you it would have been justified. You were way over the border.” Seokjin reminds him as Namjoon lets out a weary sigh.

He knew it was dangerous. He knew it was stupid but he thought bringing you there would give you a little bit of hope. Maybe gets you to trust the dragons more. Trust him more. He was looking for your father. He had his best men on it but instead of giving you hope he feels he made it worse.

You hardly said anything when he got you back to the cave, instead, you curled into a ball and fell asleep almost immediately.

Namjoon didn’t like that you didn’t say anything to him.

And he liked it even less that you had another man touching you, fucking you.

Before Seokjin could scold him more Namjoon cut him off.

“I know I know. It was dumb. A mistake. I’ll make it up to Jungkook later. Now have you come here to scold me or is there news?” Namjoon asks as his sharp eyes don’t leave your sleeping form.

Seokjin figures it’s best not to argue with the leader so he gets to work cooking food on the fire, hype aware of how Namjoon stares at the human.

“We found her father,” Seokjin says softly as Namjoon’s eyes snap to his.

“When? Where?” Namjoon asks as Seokjin bites his lip and continues to prep the food.

“Well, you have to promise not to be mad.” Seokjin starts as Namjoon lets loose a low warning growl.

A sentence like that can never be good.

“Taehyung…he… he went to her town and found her house. Her father somehow wandered home unscathed.” Seokjin says timidly as Namjoon feels heat rise throughout his body.

“You’re telling me. Taehyung. Went into her town. As a human?” Namjoon growls low as Seokjin seems to shrink under his leader’s heated gaze.

“Hoseok and I already gave him an earful but yes he did. No one knows who he is anyway as he is the newest of us but yeah. He did.” Seokjin says still timid as he pokes at the fire not wanting to see Namjoon's wrath.

“You came in here scolding me for being on human land but Taehyung walks right into her town?! Is he insane?” Namjoon hisses trying to keep his voice low so you can sleep.

“Well you can scold Taehyung but you're the leader….who’s going to scold you? Someone had to do it and I drew the short straw.”

Namjoon ran a tired hand down his face.

“Well he’s going to get the scolding of his life but…I’m glad her father is safe.” Namjoon finishes as the cave is filled with the sizzle of fish cooking.

“Are you?” Seokjin asks eyebrow quirked as Namjoon stills.

“Of course I am.” He retorted as you shifted in your sleep.

“We all have noticed you have grown fond of the human. Are you going to be able to let her go?” Seokjin asks as you stir more and Namjoon knows it’s only moments before you will wake.

“I have to. I have no choice.”

The news gets broken to you after you eat.

Both Seokjin and Namjoon decide to wait until you are finished at the fear of you choking when they tell you your father is safe at home.

“So what happened?!” You ask, shock apparent on your face as Seokjin recalls how Taehyung walked into your town and found your house, finding your father safe and sound but terribly worried about you.

“Now I really should apologize to Taehyung after what he walked in on.” You mutter as Seokjin lifts a brow and his eyes flit to Namjoon who is suddenly very interested in the cave wall.

“There are still a couple of hours of daylight left if you wish us to take you to him. You just have to promise if anyone asks about Taehyung you pretend you have no idea. Also maybe just tell them you got lost in the woods. We don’t want to bring trouble to our kind because we took you in. Taehyung has brought enough trouble by going into town.” Seokjin explained with a shake of his head but a small smile on his lips.

He seemed just as excited as you that your father was safe.

Namjoon however stayed stoic and silent as he stared at the cave walls, occasionally looking at you.

“Well, I have a patrol to do. Namjoon can take you back.” Seokjin explains as he stands up and you follow suit.

You wrap him in a warm hug and thank him for everything and Seokjin returns the hug but his eyes are locked on Namjoon who is now staring with a low growl rumbling in his chest.

“Please thank Jungkook and Hoseok for me. Oh and tell Taehyung I’m sorry he had to walk in on…yeah.” You finish pulling away and blushing to match Namjoon’s blush.

Interesting.

“What exactly did he walk in on? Just so I know what to say?” Seokjin teases as Namjoon stands up quickly and barks at Seokjin to get a move on.

Seokjin waves over his shoulder and leaves you alone with Namjoon who looks anything but pleased.

“We should go.” He says softly as he puts out the fire and his cold attitude matches the cold of the room as he leaves and transforms into his dragon self outside.

You slowly look around the cave once more before leaving and slowly climbing on Namjoon’s back. He lets out a small huff and shoots himself into the sky.

Your thoughts are a tangled web as the world around you suddenly doesn’t seem as interesting as it did before.

You were glad that your father was safe. You were glad that he was home which also meant you could come home. You’d have to find a way to return Jimin’s dagger to him without raising suspicion but the thought of seeing Jimin again made you feel queasy.

Not because of Jimin himself but because of what you told Namjoon.

Also Namjoon in general.

The way he looked at you, the way he pinned you against the cave wall. You knew something was simmering below the surface and as glad as you were that your father was back, you also wished you had more time to explore it.

You opened your heart to him and didn’t have time to let him open his. You didn’t feel ready to go back to your old life, something about Namjoon drew you in, made you feel powerful, made you feel alive.

Before you could even begin to untangle these thoughts you felt him descending on the very edge of the forest and you held your breath as your stomach swooped.

Namjoon touched down gracefully for being so large and you carefully climbed off his back before he could transform into a human.

You didn’t know what to say, how to thank him, how to say goodbye but it seemed he didn’t give you the chance because as you were about to open your mouth he let out a small huff and shot up into the sky, leaving you standing in the clearing alone.

Well.

That was that then.

-------

The days turned into weeks and everything slowly turned back to normal.

The reunion with your father was sweet as he swept you into his arms and told you how he got lost in the woods for several days only living off berries until he eventually stumbled back.

You told a similar tale, keeping your promise to Seokjin and leaving out the parts about the dragons as you settled back into your life.

Two days after your return you ran into Jimin in town as you were buying bread. You whispered for him to meet you in the barn around nightfall.

However, you didn’t meet him but you left his dagger on the hay pile where you usually fucked.

Jimin wouldn’t look at you after that, instead shooting you dirty looks whenever he could but you didn’t mind. You didn’t miss him much anyway.

The winter chill came hard and fast this year coating everything in snow as you trekked through town to continue to grab supplies for your small cottage.

The air was bitingly cold and you held your hood firmly over your head to ward off the chill as you completed your errands.

Jimin was in the blacksmiths as you passed and you held your head high, only to be met with the ding of the bell and his boots crunching through the snow next to you.

“So that’s it then? You steal my dagger and just throw it on the hay pile to be found by me? Can’t even talk to me anymore.” He hisses as you stop in your tracks and face him.

“My father was gone for ages and your father did nothing to help him. My father just got back… so sorry I want to spend time with him instead of letting you get your dick wet.” You snarl under your breath as Jimin steps back in shock.

“I covered for you when you stole my dagger and this is how you repay me?” He says anger seeping through his voice as your breaths mingle in the cold air.

“How exactly did you cover for me? You had sex with me and fell asleep and I stole your dagger. What were you going to tell your father when he asked? Surely you weren’t going to tell him you were with me.”

“I pretended I lost it to save you!” He blurts out.

“Save me or save yourself? I know you are ashamed to be with me Jimin. I know you see me how the rest of the town does though you won't admit it.” You say calmly.

Jimin stares at you, his beautiful face painted in anger.

“Were done. This. This is done.” he scowls pushing past you to storm down the street.

But you had already known it was done.

It was done the day you first laid eyes on Namjoon.

You let your thoughts drift back to him as you make your way out of town to your small cottage struggling under the weight of the bags and the fresh fallen snow.

It still stung that Namjoon never bothered to say goodbye and you almost wonder if he is even thinking about you too.

You haven’t forgotten the tension in the cave, how hard and needy he felt against you as he pushed you against the wall. How often those sharp eyes would land on you making you squirm.

Before you know it you are at your front door. You try to clear the thoughts of Namjoon from your mind but you know no matter how hard you try you will never meet a man like him in your entire life.

-------

A month had gone by since you had seen Namjoon. A whole month of sitting in the cottage and yearning for him and letting your thoughts be consumed by him.

Your father knew something was up and asked multiple times what happened in the woods but you reiterated the same story over and over until he had given up.

One cold frosty morning you were tending to the chickens when you saw something flutter out of the corner of your eye.

You finished collecting the eggs and when you turned it was still there.

A black cloak fluttering on a tree branch a couple of feet from your coop. You knew that cloak, you would recognize it anywhere and you nearly dropped the eggs when the wind grabbed it, revealing the fur lining.

Namjoon was here, somewhere. Or had been here.

He dropped it off for you.

He was thinking about you too.

You slowly placed the basket of eggs on the ground and walked over the cloak, your hand slightly shaking.

When your hand wrapped around the soft material you couldn’t help but let your eyes close as all the memories replayed in your mind. The cloak smelt of him and your head spun when you wrapped it around your shoulders, taking you right back to that cave, right back to him hard and needy against you.

Your thoughts were broken by church bells echoing across town and out to your little home as you quickly grabbed the eggs and headed inside still wearing the cloak.

Your father had questions of course but you lied and said one of the townspeople must have lost it and you would do your due diligence to return it tomorrow.

He seemed pleased with that response and you hated lying to him but was it really lying if you were going to return it to the dragon it belonged to?

-------

The forest was a lot different in just a couple of months, and every step you took deeper into it reminded you of that.

The trees were bare as the winter chill had stripped them down to only their branches. Most of the leaves had been cleared away leaving you walking through deep snow, hiking up your father’s clothes once again as you wandered in.

Even without having Jimin’s weapon, you didn’t feel afraid.

Namjoon had told you once that he could smell everything on you

From fear to sweat to….arousal.

You knew it was only a matter of time before he found you again.

The woods grew dense and the snow was starting to freeze your toes in your boots as you carried on.

The sun was weak today casting everything in a somber light as you held onto a tree for support and caught your breath.

Even if somehow he couldn’t smell you, you did have the protection of wearing his cloak and that gave you the strength to carry on.

An hour in the snow was still deep and you were having a hard time traversing it. The cloak kept you warm and safe and the trees provided a small barrier against the wind.

Two hours later you were wondering if this whole thing was a mistake.

You figured you’d wander in the woods and he would sense you were there, maybe smell you, and be on you in minutes. However, the minutes had dragged into hours and you felt numb and sore.

Your feet ached in cold and your cheeks were stinging and tinged pink as your breath fogged in front of your very eyes.

The temperature was dropping.

This was a bad idea.

Just as you were about to give up you could hear the flapping of wings and you looked up in time to see a huge dragon sailing above you.

It seemed to sense you and your heart fluttered thinking it was your dragon. However, when it started to descend you realized you didn’t recognize this dragon at all.

No gold-flecked scales, no pink either.

It touched down harshly in front of you and its beady eyes narrowed on yours.

You stayed frozen as you checked the dragon, all black except for a sickly green color around its snout.

It licked its lips and your stomach plummeted.

This was not a friendly dragon and you were about to be lunch.

Just as the dragon opened its mouth to shoot fire you were swooped up in claws and taken from the forest floor.

The wind whipped your hair around and when you finally found the bravery to open your eyes you looked up to see your saviour which was a black dragon with a golden belly.

“Namjoon!” You cried over the wind as he ignored you and took you higher and higher across the winter sky.

Flying was a lot colder this time around and he seemed to take you further than he ever had.

By the time you had touched down your cheeks and hands were frozen and you felt chilled to the bone.

He didn’t drop you off at the cave, or any cave for that matter. In fact, he dropped you off high in the mountains where an old rustic cottage sat.

You were about to open your mouth to thank him but you saw he wasn’t transforming back into his human self.

His eyes were narrowed and golden and even though he didn’t speak you could feel the rage radiating off him in waves.

He nodded a head towards the cottage and took off in flight leaving you stranded at the edge of a mountain.

You stood there watching his great wings flap against the sky and before long he was a speck in the distance.

You had no choice but to enter the quant cottage and warm yourself up as you got a fire started. It took ages with your numb fingers but once you were able to light the match the whole living room was bathed in warm firelight.

You padded from room to room slowly looking around as the wind howled all around you.

There was a small kitchen, a cozy living room, a small bathroom, and two bedrooms in the back.

Something drew you to the bedroom on the left and when you went inside your head spun. All you smelt was him.

Namjoon’s scent was everywhere and when you opened the closet sweaters and pants hung nearly, organized by color.

Your own clothes were frozen and not nearly as comfortable so you stripped in his room and grabbed a soft blue sweater to throw over your head.

You didn’t bother with the pants as he was much bigger than you but you did strip them off anyway and decided you would wear his sweater as a dress.

Making your way back to the living room you saw him standing by the fire, the light illuminating his dark features and when he made eye contact with you the air seemed to woosh from your lungs.

“You really are the most stubborn human I have ever met you know that.” He growls as his narrowed eyes rove your body and you are suddenly very aware you were not wearing pants.

“Good to see you too.” You deadpan as you make your way over to the couch and throw a blanket on your lap to cover yourself up.

“Do you know how bad it could have been if I had not been following you for the last hour?” He asks, voice low and dangerous as the fire flickers.

“So you knew I was in the forest then?” You ask

“Obviously.” He says sounding bored.

“And you didn’t think to come get me sooner? I walked around for two hours like an idiot looking for you.” You say sharply feeling embarassment rise.

He knew you had been there all along. He just let you wander lost.

“I thought you’d give up. I guess I forgot your stubbornness.” He chuckled to himself as he continued to stare into the fire.

“Why would I give up? You left your cloak on my property and I-I thought.” You said letting your voice die out as you stared at your lap.

You read this wrong, the whole thing was wrong and now you looked like a fool.

“Yes, I was wondering where that cloak had wandered off too.”

Your eyes met his sharp ones and he let out a long weary sigh.

“My cloak went missing days ago. It seems Taehyung has a taste for meddling. I made him confess right after I found you.” Namjoon says finally pushing away from the fire to sit in a lounge chair next to you.

“I-I thought- I…wow this is embarassing.” You say hugging your arms around yourself and staring at your feet unable to look at him.

“You thought I sent it.” He asks softly as you finally look his way.

His expression is gentle and understanding and you nod slowly.

“I had been completing rounds in an area Taehyung knew I would be in. I smelt the cloak right away. I smelt you right away. I was hoping you would give up. Go home but as I said you are a stubborn human. The dragon that found you. That could have been bad. Which is why I wanted you to go home. The forest is dangerous. I am dangerous.”

“So you don’t want me here?” You ask in a small voice feeling the sting of rejection deep in your chest.

“I brought you to my private cottage in the mountains. The only ones who know about it are my dragons. I brought you here for three reasons. Number one to keep you safe.” He says voice low as he leans closer to you as if he is about to tell you a secret.

“Number two, I told my dragons if they even fly close to this place tonight I will incinerate them.”

You giggle.

“Number three is because here you are, wearing my clothes, smelling of my cloak, and if I am not mistaken wearing no pants. I brought you here so I could ravish you in peace.”

You let out a small whimper at his words, squeezing your thighs together as Namjoon chuckles low and dangerously.

“That’s why you came all this way right? Why you put yourself in so much danger? Why you haven’t fucked the Park boy in weeks….. yes I know about that.” He says before you can interject.

You whimpered out his name. The tension was thick as a cloud and made your heart rate speed as he leaned even closer to you and you sucked in a breath.

“You want me, don’t you? You have wanted me since that first fight in the cave? Am I correct?”

You nod unable to form words as his hand reaches out to tuck a stray hair behind your ear.

“I didn’t say goodbye the first time because I couldn’t. I felt the same as you. The pull. The desire. Saying goodbye was too hard. I kick myself almost every day that I didn’t take you right there up against the cave wall. You were so stubborn, so infuriating that it made my cock so fucking hard.” He snarled, face inches from yours breath warm against your face.

“Do you still think I’m stubborn and infuriating?” You ask in a small voice as you shrink under his searing gaze.

“My human walked into the forest today, put her life at risk to get a good fuck by a dragon. What do you think princess?” He rasps against the shell of your ear causing goosebumps to rise on your skin despite the warm fire only mere feet away.

“You-Your human?” You asked him slowly blinking as he snickered and his mouth stretched into a sinister smile.

“Yes. My human. I’m going to fuck you and make you mine. As long as that’s what you wandered into the woods for?” He says teasingly with a cock of his eyebrow.

Desire throbbed throughout your body and you felt the anticipation of what was to come hang in the air.

You wanted him and you wanted him bad.

“Need to hear you say it human. Say how bad you want me.” He demands as you nod.

“No no, I need words.” He teases causing you to arch up and try to connect your lips with his.

“Words darling. Words. You do know what those are?”

You swallow hard.

“Yes. Namjoon please fuck me.” You beg as his eyes ignite gold and he grabs you and throws you over his broad shoulder.

You squeal and hold on for dear life as a hand comes down to spank your backside causing you to gasp and leak arousal down your thighs as he kicks open the bedroom door and throws you down on the bed.

Before you can blink his body is on top of yours, keeping you pinned to the bed as his mouth roves your neck. His nose is cold against your skin and you arch up to meet his body wanting to be covered by every inch of him as he explores you with passion.

“Kiss me- fuck Namjoon-please.” You beg as he attacks your lips with his own causing you to moan obscenly against his warm mouth.

His lips are firm and when he grinds his body down on yours you are delighted to feel the swell of his hard cock pressing against your stomach as you grind yourself against it to try and help relieve some of the ache that has formed between your legs.

Namjoon’s kisses are hot and when he delivers a small bite to your lip you gasp as he takes to opportunity to slip his tongue inside and explore your mouth.

Your hands are scraping at his body, desperate to feel his bare skin against yours as his hand comes to play with the hem of his sweatshirt that you are wearing, pulling it higher and higher exposing yourself to him.

He breaks the kiss causing you to whine in protest as he sits up and shucks his shirt over his head. You gasp when your eyes are met with miles of tanned skin and muscles that had been sculpted by hard work.

What shocked you most was his markings.

His body had many gold lines running around it. One thick line ran from his neck all the way down to his naval and you wondered if it would run further down.

His arms had thick gold bands circling them and he must have seen you staring because he turned around to show you his back, which had gold markings in the shape of dragon wings.

“Wow.” You breathed out as you took in his beauty.

He blushed under your praise.

“We get these markings when we become leaders. I’ve been a leader for five years but the wings just came in last year.” He explains as he sits on the bed and carefully takes your hand pressing it to the gold marks on his chest.

“You’re beautiful Namjoon.” You breathe out as he gives you a rare shy smile, which once again causes those dimples to show on his cheeks.

You slowly use the tip of your finger to trace the gold line on his chest, he shivers under your touch but lets you continue as you trace down his body, eyes following the path to where the line dips lower and his hard cock is straining against his pants in a way that has your mouth watering.

When you make it to the edge of his pants his resolve snaps and Namjoon pushes you back down on the bed and begins to kiss you again.

Your hands come to grab at his hair as his mouth attacks yours as his hips jut his cock into your stomach.

His lips don’t stay on yours for long as they begin to travel down your cheek and to your jawline where he peppers them making you whine and thrash under him.

“Don’t tease please.” You beg out as his lips suck a mark into your skin just above your collarbone as he chuckles against your skin.

“My little human you have to remember I’m a shapeshifter. A dragon. My cock is going to be a lot bigger than what you are used to. I have to prep you my impatient one.” He coos against your skin making you moan as his lips are intoxicating against your skin and you want nothing more than to have them somewhere else.

He seems to read your mind as he once again sits up on the bed and tugs at the sweater you are wearing, pulling it off and throwing it to the floor with a thump.

“Good choice. That is one of my favorite ones. You looked divine in it but I think you look better without it on.” He notes as his eyes rove your naked body.

“It…It was the one that smelled the most like you.” You admitted as his narrowed eyes took their time exploring your body.

From your collarbones to your breasts to your stomach and when his eyes dipped down to the flimsy piece of cloth covering your core the gold in his eyes seemed to shimmer.

“My beautiful human.” He hums as his lips connect with the skin of your neck and you throw your head back as they once again move.

When his warm, wet mouth makes it to your breasts you whine out his name as you try your best to hump your lower body into him.

At this point, you wonder if you have soaked the bed under you with how aroused you feel.

“Patience.” He reminds you as his mouth finally connects with your nipple and you see stars.

His other hand comes up to palm at your other breasts as he takes his time with your right one. Alternating between licking and sucking making arousal shoot through your bloodstream.

His mouth is warm and wet and when he pulls off your nipple with a wet pop you can’t help but squeeze your legs together in anticipation.

His eyes travel south and his mouth curls into a smirk when he catches the piece of fabric, so wet against you as he tears it from your body.

You gasp.

Namjoon slowly gets off the bed and palms his hard cock through his pants. His bulge is straight up obscene the way it is pushing against the fabric of his pants and when he adjusts it you can clearly see the head leaking precum staining his pants.

“Please. Namjoon. Please.” You beg feeling delirious from your arousal as he chuckles and grabs your legs pulling you to the edge of the bed with ease.

“How many times do I have to remind you to be patient with me? As much as I would love to slide my cock inside of you, and believe me I can tell by your scent how aroused you are, I also don’t want to hurt you.” He explains as he grabs a pillow and kneels on it you sit up to stare at him, the leader of the dragons kneeling before you.

“If your flight saw you now what would they say.” You teased as Namjoon’s eyes seemed to glow a brighter gold, even the markings on his body seemed to glow at your words.

“They would be jealous of how lucky I am to be between your legs about to ravish your pussy.” He says calmly as you throw a hand over your mouth to stop the moan that threatens to spill out.

“We are high in the mountains darling you can be as loud as you want. Actually, I encourage it.” He says shooting you a wink.

The first lick makes you arch off the bed and cry out his name.

The second lick makes you whine and moan against him

And the noises are just obscene.

His tongue laps and sucks at your core, licking up everything you have to give him as he noses at your clit and dances his tongue across your soaked folds.

You want to watch him but the pleasure takes over as you lay back on the bed and moan his name to the ceiling as he works you towards a high you know will destroy you.

His tongue flicks across your clit sending sparks up your spine and his hands stay firm on your thighs holding you to the bed as you take everything he is giving you.

Your voice raises in pitch. Your stomach is coiling in pleasure and when you finally cry out his name in warning Namjoon growls against your core and that sets you off.

You cum while gripping the sheets and crying out his name as waves upon waves of pleasure crash down on you. Namjoon licks up everything even going as far as nuzzling his nose against your pussy to give you extra stimulation.

When you can’t take it anymore you reach down to softly push his head away.

You feel weak and dizzy but also invigorated as you finally sit up and see Namjoon still kneeling before you.

His eyes are back to their brown color but his markings still glow and his face and cheeks are wet with your orgasm.

“Fuck.” You get out as you lay back down on the bed and press a hand to your racing heart.

It seems however Namjoon is not done as you feel a finger trace up your leg, starting at your knee and teasing higher and higher.

He gets up from the floor and places one knee on the bed and one hand on the bed holding himself steady as he hovers over you.

You push yourself up on your elbows as you suck in a sharp breath when he finally makes it to your core and when his finger circles your entrance you nod at him.

Namjoon coats his finger in your wetness before slowly pushing it inside your pussy. You sigh at the feeling of finally being filled and when he adds another finger you can’t help but grind down on them.

“Needy thing aren’t you.” He chuckled as he began to fuck you on his long fingers, pulling them out and pushing them in making you shiver.

As Namjoon works you with his fingers you can’t help but notice his neglected cock twitching in his pants.

You surprise him but reaching out for it and palming his length causing a low growl to leave his throat as he curls his fingers inside of you to rub at that spot that makes you see stars.

“Patience. You will get my cock in due time.” He says gruffly as his fingers start to speed up inside of you.

“Want you to feel good too Joon.” You argue as you palm at his cock and apply pressure to the head of it making him throw his head back and the veins in his neck bulge as you work him.

“I have two fingers deep in your pussy I feel great.” He argues back as he once again curls his fingers and you cum around them without warning.

Your walls spasm and you cry out his name as more arousal coats your insides and Namjoon helps you work through your high.

You come down a lot quicker this time and when you sit up you see Namjoon happily lapping at his digits that were just buried deep inside you.

“Can’t wait any longer need your cock.” You beg as he snickers and stands up from the bed.

Namjoon stands at the foot of the bed and stares you down. His eyes are narrowed and sharp as he takes in your ruined frame. He slowly reaches for his pants and palms at his cock as you take him in.

You knew he was the leader of the dragons. He was powerful, but this man standing in front of you radiated such confidence and power, that it made your mouth dry as he seemed to have enough of his own teasing and he finally pulled his pants down agonizingly slow.

When you saw the base of his cock you swallowed hard at its girth as he revealed more of himself to you. Once he shed himself off his pants his cock slapped against his stomach and your eyes grew wide.

He was thick and long, longer than you had ever seen and his cock was flushed an angry red color, but surprisingly had the gold markings wound around it.

His cockhead was leaking precum and it twitched against him as you fought to tear your eyes away from it and back to his handsome face.

“You understand now why I had to prep you.” He says with an eyebrow raised as you bite your lip and nod.

Namjoon settles himself on the bed as anticipation hangs in the air. You try to be polite and stare anywhere else but his cock but your eyes seem drawn to it and your pussy throbs at the thought of it entering you.

“You asked me once how do you ride a dragon?” he quips as he leans back against the headboard with a confident smirk on his face.

“Well, I think I’d like you to show me how you ride a dragon.”

You waste no time in climbing up on his lap settling yourself on his powerful thighs. You bring a hand down to grip his cock and moan at the sheer size of it.

Namjoon leaks steadily down his shaft as you begin to jerk him off slowly.

You flick your wrist at the top and he lets out a low grunt in his throat as you work him.

His shaft is warm and velvety under your palm and you can almost feel the blood pumping through it from the vein on the side.

Namjoon tries his best to hold back and let you explore but the feeling of your wetness coating his thigh and the fact he is already so embarrassingly close by just a couple strokes of your hand makes him push your hand away.

“You are too good at that you know.” He mutters

You snicker.

“Yeah, I’ve had some practice.” You taunt as Namjoon’s eyes narrow and a low disapproving grumble vibrates in his chest.

“And from now on the only person you will practice with is me. My human. Mine.” He growls as his teeth nip at your earlobe and you throw your head back and whine out his name.

“Say it. Say you're mine and only mine.” Namjoon demands as one hand comes down to swat at your ass causing it to sting and a broken moan to fall from your lips.

“Say it or I won’t fuck you.” He threatens as he once again slaps your ass and you cry out his name, tears of desperation gathering in your eyes.

“Yours. Joon. Only yours.” You beg as he snickers and his inner dragon purrs happily at the sound of that before he grabs the base of his cock and lines it up with your dripping folds.

“Now you have to be a good girl and listen to everything I say before I fuck you okay.” He mutters against your ear as his other hand comes up to pet your hair.

“Anything Joon. Anything.” You cry out.

“I’m going to stick my cock in you and you are going to sit there and take it until you adjust okay. I don’t want to hurt my beautiful human. I want her to be a good girl and wait until she’s fully adjusted got it?” He asks as you sob and try to force yourself down on his cock desperation making you act out.

“I said to be a good girl. Can you do that for me?” He coos in your ear as you whine and nod.

Namjoon slowly grabs his cock and lets you sink onto it at your own pace.

The stretch is unbelievable and you almost feel your eyes cross at how good it feels. You take him inch by inch, taking deep breaths and stopping when you need to.

Namjoon is patient as he lets you sink down but you can tell by the look on his face he is doing everything in his power not to fuck up into you wildly.

Once you make it to the bottom and he is fully sheathed you let out a shaky breath and press your hands to his warm chest for support.

“Fuck I’m so full Joonie.” You grit out as the stretch still stings, though the comforting circles he rubs on your back do help.

“I know baby. You feel so tight around my cock. Squeezing me so good. You're going to squeeze the cum right out of me aren’t you.” He purrs in your ear which makes your walls flutter around his length.

“So full but so good.” You cry out as you look down and gasp when you look between your bodies.

Namjoon’s cock is so big, so deep inside of you it makes your lower stomach bulge out slightly. His eyes follow yours and he lets out an animalistic growl as he sees how full you are.

The minutes tick by. You feel yourself slowly start to relax around his cock and when you finally look up into his handsome face he has his eyes closed, his teeth biting into his lip and is taking short breaths out of his nose.

“You okay there Joon?” You ask playfully as he opens his eyes which are once again shining gold and he stares at you.

“I’m okay.” He says voice slightly cracking as you giggle, finally feeling your body adjust to his length and you wiggle your hips slightly, teasing him.

“Are you sure? You look in pain?” You goad unable to stop yourself from swirling your hips and looking at the pained expression on his face.

“You feel so hot and tight around me and I am trying to be a gentleman and let you adjust but you teasing me like this is not helping.” He grits out and you once again giggle.

“Who says I’m not adjusted?” You tease and it’s game over.

Namjoon grabs your hips so hard you know you will have bruises tomorrow and he fucks up into you wildly.

You grab onto his shoulders for support as you grind down to meet his thrusts.

Namjoon huffs out in annoyance and rolls you over so he is on top of you and begins to snap his hips harshly, causing his cock to reach inside of you so deep it makes you see stars.

“S-So good.” You cry out voice slurring as he continues to pound into you with force

Namjoon grunts in your ear, low and dangerous as he fucks into you, his voice sending shivers up your spine as he pistons in his hips into you in a way that has his cockhead touching your g-spot with every thrust.

“You test me. You tease me. You come into these woods putting your life in danger just to find me. You are so infuriating sometimes.” He growls as he holds you down on the bed and fucks into you sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing over your body.

“I think you like the thrill you know. I think you like someone testing you.” You shoot back as his face snaps up to meet your gaze and he licks his lips.

“You know I fucking do.” He groans as he slips his cock out of you and you are about to protest but he flips you over and gets you on your hands and knees.

His cock enters you again and this time the angle is different and so much deeper as he pounds into you harshly, making you take his entire length.

“You know how hard it was for me to say goodbye. You know how much I came all over my fist at the thought of you. I felt like a pervert the amount of times I got hard at the thought of you. The amount of cum I wasted on my fist instead of being buried in your pussy.”

You cry out at his words but it seems he’s not done. With every thrust of his cock he is bringing you closer to the edge and you start to fuck back into him meeting him halfway and making a growl rumble deep in his chest.

“I’m going to cum so deep inside you today. You will be ruined for anyone else. You are mine. No one else just my little cum dump to use as I please.”

He sends a hard smack to your ass and you cry out his name as the pleasure in your stomach builds higher and high and the coil of pleasure gets tighter.

You cry out his name.

But he knows. Of course, he knows.

His hand comes to reach between your legs and with a couple of circles of your clit he has you cumming hard, your walls clamping around his cock as you cry out his name, tears falling at how good it feels as your orgasm crashes into you.

Namjoon is still fucking into you wildly but he can feel his own high approaching, his body is glistening with sweat making his gold marking glow as he grabs the base of his cock and tries his best to stave off his orgasm until he pulls out.

Namjoon pulls out with a harsh hiss, and after a couple of strokes to his heated length, he cums all over your back using his hand to milk himself dry as ropes of white cum land on your back and ass.

You wait until he’s done before slumping on the bed and taking several deep breaths. A dull ache forms between your legs as you lay there motionless and try to catch your breath.

Your body tingles in after orgasm bliss and you can’t help but flutter your eyes closed as he moves off the bed behind you.

You feel a warm cloth on your back as Namjoon wipes you down, he takes his time and is meticulous in his work and before you know it you are scooped up into his arms and carried to the small bathroom where a warm bath is running.

You are slowly lowered down in the bath and you hiss at the warm temperature but you feel your body instantly relax when you are submerged.

Namjoon leaves the room and when he returns he is dressed in simple black pants and a white shirt and he plops down on the floor next to the tub to keep you company.

“That was incredible” You breathe out unable to keep your head up and instead you decide to rest it on your arms as you stare at him.

“I agree.” He responds as his hand comes out to grab yours as his thumb rubs soothing circles on your skin.

“You are a liar though Joon.” You say softly as his eyebrows raise.

“You didn’t cum inside me like you said. Thought you wanted to make me yours?” You ask grinning at him.

Despite just having the best sex of his life his cock twitches in interest in his pants.

“It was a heat of the moment thing. If I did cum inside you and got you pregnant…we dragons usually don’t mix with humans but there are cases where they do. There’s just a lot we would have to go through first. If you were pregnant with my child. I’d be cast out. I’d lose my leadership, my dragons, my everything.” he admits as he brings your hand up to his lips to press a soft kiss.

He will admit the thought of carrying his child is making his cock a lot more interested in the conversation and he grumbles when he realizes he is fully hard again.

“What are the steps we have to take?” You ask staring up at him through full lashes.

“I’d have to court you for at least six months. Then we would have to go to the council and explain the situation. And only after their approval would we be able to continue. And because I’m a leader, it will take a lot longer.” He admits feeling suddenly saddened.

“Well I already admitted to being yours so I guess the rest of the steps don’t seem so bad.” You sigh sleepily as Namjoon’s head snaps up.

“You want to be with me? To have me court you?” He asks feeling his heart hammer in his chest.

“Of course! I walked into the woods and risked my life for you. I didn’t just do that for a fuck. Though that was amazing.” You say winking at him.

Namjoon’s heart flutters and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your temple as your eyes slowly close.

Namjoon lets you rest knowing despite his best efforts you will still be sore for days to come. He sits on the cold bathroom floor and reaches out through his mind to Seokjin.

Yes, Namjoon? Are we allowed to communicate with you now?

Namjoon rolls his eyes at the smugness in Seokjin’s voice and lets out a frustrated sigh when Hoseok joins in

Ah, you are done. About time. We were worried dusk would come before the two of you got your hands off each other.

Good thing her father’s a carpenter maybe he can make you a bed. I assume you destroyed this one?

Namjoon let out a warning growl but it didn’t stop the dragons in his head from chuckling

Okay nevermind this conversation is over

Hey! We didn’t mean it we were just teasing. Anyway, what do you need?

Namjoon eyes you snoozing peacefully in the tub, his hand dipped in the water to make sure it is still warm for you

Can you teach me how to cook?

The silence in his head makes him fidget before he hears a snicker

Do you want to burn the cabin down that bad?

Hoseok and his goddamn “humor”

Can you both be serious for once?

Ah Hoseok you know how our Joon is. If he’s asking for help it must be serious. Besides he can just burn it down with a fireball. Now tell me Namjoon are you courting the human?

Yes

The cheers in his head are loud as Seokjin and Hoseok whoop and holler in excitement

Okay okay enough. I’m still your leader you know

Oh, this is so exciting! Of course Namjoon we will teach you how to cook for her, maybe air out the cabin before we come over though it’s going to be hard to teach you how to cook with all the sex in the air.

Namjoon grumbles at Hoseok’s teasing but when he looks at you it makes a little teasing all worth it.

Tag List:

@kingofbodyrolls

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Waiting for Superman

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~600

Warnings: fluff

Summary: For decades, you’ve been coasting through life thinking you’ll never find “the one” until you take Spencer to a bookstore, and he manages to find something to pass the time.

Square Filled: waiting for superman by daughtry for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Spencer loves books. He reads nearly twenty of them in a week. However, he is a fan of nonfiction, not fiction like you love. The new bookstore that just opened near your house only had fiction books stocked, nothing that would ever catch Spencer’s eyes. Still, he goes because it’s what you love.

Most people who know Spencer know that he is patient, calculating, thoughtful, and very friendly. That all gets thrown out the window when he comes to the bookstore with you. He’s like an impatient child who only comes along because he has to. He gets bored very easily since his big brain is always running away from him, so it takes a lot to keep him engaged. It’s why he’s so good at his job. His mind is constantly engaged by whatever unsub has made it to the briefing room.

Spencer huffs as he follows you around the bookstore, and you pick a romance book off the shelf.

“You know you didn't have to come with me.”

“I want to hang out with you, even if it means being in here.”

“How romantic,” you roll your eyes playfully.

“Are you almost done? I know of another bookstore that has books we’d both like.”

“Spencer, this one is closer, and we have to meet my parents for lunch. If we went to the other one, we wouldn’t get back until late.” Spencer leans against the bookshelf and is quiet for maybe five seconds. “Okay, how about you go to the cafe and get something to drink, yeah?”

Spencer grumbles but doesn’t answer you. You go back to reading the backs of books, pushing Spencer aside in your mind. He leaves your side to go find something else to do. If this is Spencer’s only flaw, then you consider yourself pretty lucky. You were at the point in your life where you thought you’d be alone forever.

Every date you went on, you weren't connecting to anyone. Either they were too boring, too stinky, too full of themselves, or they had their eyes on other girls. None of them were ever right until you met Spencer. He kept his attention on you every time you two were together, always put your first, and made sure to remember every detail you’d tell him about yourself.

Okay, that last one is his natural ability to remember everything, but he made a conscious decision to do it.

You spent what felt like a lifetime for someone like Spencer, so you’re not going to let him go that easily.

Over the next hour, you read and grab books that are interesting to you until you have a pile in your hands. You had just gotten paid and felt like spending a chunk of your paycheck on books. Knowing there is nothing for Spencer in here, you search for him in the small bookstore. He’s upstairs sitting in a book nook with half a dozen kids sitting around him. Their parents are near just watching Spencer read a book to them.

His eyes are wide, he does funny voices for the characters, and he engages each of the kids in the story he’s reading. You set your books down on a table and lean against it, content with watching him. Each kid is mesmerized and hooked to every word he’s saying, and the parents don’t mind the nice break from their children.

“What about the dragon? Who is going to slay it?” a child asks.

“Princess Annabelle is.” All the children gasp. “I know. Usually, the prince does but I think Princess Annabelle is tired of waiting for someone to do it for her. Let’s see how she does it.”

Spencer flips to the next page and continues to the story. He looks up and locks eyes with you, and you give him a slow-growing smile.

It’s right here and now that you’ve decided this is the man you’re going to marry. You’ve been waiting decades for your Superman to show up, and it’s been in front of your face the whole time.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[barrenclan]

I've been off anon once before, but I guess I thought with the comic finishing up (not counting epilogues) I'd do this officially finally! So...Hi! I just wanted to say this has been an absolutely incredible journey from start to finish. The art, the symbolism, the mystery all throughout, the CHARACTERS, it's all been absolutely breathtaking (Ranger and Hacksaw are still my favorites! Ranger and Hacksaw #1!!!) I've been here since the first issue, and you really did just wrap everything up perfectly (particularly thematically!) This last issue in particular I think is the only time I've teared up reading this comic? For very personal reasons, Slugpelt's "you should just leave me to die, I have nothing left and I can't bear this pain, don't make me continue" hit...really really home for me, haha. The following moments of Pinewing's "Can't you live for me? Can't your trust we'll have a million more moments that will make it equally worth living? Can I be enough for you, just for right now?" Because...Fuck, man! I've been there! I feel that!!! And I'm just so...immensely and insanely glad that Slugpelt did accept the tentative promise of a future, even if everything in that moment seemed so bleak for her. I dunno. It just means a whole lot to me, I guess. I also teared up around Corm and Pine's "can we just start over?" Not for any personal reasons, just because it's just SO sentimental and SO sincere, like fuck. "Hi I'm Pinewing, and I think I'm in love with you" "I'm Cormorantleaf and I think I'm in love with you too" gets me right in the chest! It's difficult to put into words how much love, trust, and absolute fucking earnestness is in that exchange but I just! Feel it! The weight and oozing fondness in those words!!! I feel it physically!!! Augh!!! That's all I wanted to say. Just, thank you for reading (if you did read it! Busy schedule, real life, I get it,) and thank you so much for making this. It's been a hell of a ride, and I've enjoyed every moment so so much. P.S. one time this comic activated my autism so bad I made a point of trying to remember the names of every issue (up to 14 or 15, I think) in order while I was out in the middle of the woods and no computer access. I never got around to saying that at the time but the point is PATFW good and I like it a very normal amount lol

Thank you so much for your kind words!! I'm so happy you've enjoyed reading the comic for this long and that it could mean that much to you. I've really loved working on it.

I'm a writer who loves tragedy and horror and things like that, but at the end of the day I am also a pretty sentimental and earnest person and I like having characters who get to experience happiness and get to live their lives how they want. Maybe I'm a sap.

P.S. That really makes me laugh, I love it. How'd it make you feel if I said I could commiserate - there have been plenty of times when I've been at work when it's slow or otherwise bored and I'll just start listing the names of every single issue in order, over and over, for fun? Haha, I love this comic just as much as everyone else.

[saintsonnet]

please expand on the lancelot x gawain i keep seeing on your blog 🙏

okay sorry i took so long i decided to shower after you sent me this because i knew that if i started then i would never end up showering today. and then it was an unfinished routine so i had to lotion and brush my teeth and floss and do hair stuff too.

so, obviously, it's lancelot du lac and gawaine of orkney. both knights of the round table, etc etc. you know who they are. i hope. they're not exactly similar to their bbc merlin counterparts---lancelot is of noble birth in classic arthuriana, gawaine is arthur's nephew (though bbc merlin doesn't exactly...keep the familial relations that canon does), things like that---but i'd honestly say that their character personalities are similar enough that it's verging on acceptable! just as a reference point for you, i suppose.

gawaine has lost a fair fight only to six knights in his time, launcelot being one of them (Le Morte d'Arthur, Sir Thomas Mallory. book IV, chapter XVIII) (the other five being sir tristram, sir bors, sir percevel, sir pelleas, and sir marhaus). he is mentioned to throw fights against lancelot because he loves losing to him (cannot remember the source for the life of me) and, of course, lancelot always notices when he does.

then there's this famous quote:

(vulgate II, p140) where launcelot tells galehaut (another man that he arguably has...something...going on with) that he would share with gawaine everything he loves, save guinevere, in order to have gawaine forever. gawaine then goes on to say that, essentially, he would wish to be the most beautiful woman so that lancelot would love him as a wife.

also, in Morte, which i don't have photos of because my copy is a physical book rather than a pdf like how i'm reading vulgate and i don't want to take photos with my laptop camera. there is this quote "and Launcelot with this sword shall slay the man that in the world he loves best, that shall be Sir Gawaine." which is engraved in the hilt of the red hilted sword, balin's sword that merlin encases in stone and which galahad, lancelot's son, eventually wields.

^this, also. from vulgate IV, p140. after launcelot accidentally kills gawaine's brother gareth (named here as gaheriet; all the orkneys have...many ways of spelling their names. look up a list of all of gawaine's names over history, i dare you) who was guarding guinevere's cell...he begs gawaine to forgive him and even promises to swear himself and all his men into subservience to gawaine if gawaine would only forgive him. "I want to be your companion just as I used to be." mhm...

and "I'll swear to you on 'relics that I didn't kill your brother Gaheriet intentionally" is a huge promise. swearing on a holy relic in such a deeply, fundamentally christian society was the vow that you could make. the reason why honour was so important in that time was because the grand majority of people were illiterate, so one's word was the most one could give, in the majority of situations! and here is lancelot, saying that he'll swear on a holy relic that he did not mean to kill gareth if it means gawaine will forgive him and love him again.

there is also, right before gawaine eventually dies (from a sword wound to the head from lancelot) he writes a letter to launcelot begging forgiveness for having been so horrible to lancelot before his death, and wishing he could see him before he dies, for he knows he won't live long.

And then when paper and ink was brought, then Gawaine was set up weakly by King Arthur, for he was shriven a little to-fore; and then he wrote thus, as the French book maketh mention: Unto Sir Launcelot, flower of all noble knights that ever I heard of or saw by my days, I, Sir Gawaine, King Lot's son of Orkney, sister's son unto the noble King Arthur, send thee greeting, and let thee have knowledge that the tenth day of May I was smitten upon the old wound that thou gavest me afore the city of Benwick, and through the same wound that thou gavest me I am come to my death-day. And I will that all the world wit, that I, Sir Gawaine, knight of the Table Round, sought my death, and not through thy deserving, but it was mine own seeking; wherefore I beseech thee, Sir Launcelot, to return again unto this realm, and see my tomb, and pray some prayer more or less for my soul. And this same day that I wrote this cedle, I was hurt to the death in the same wound, the which I had of thy hand, Sir Launcelot; for of a more nobler man might I not be slain. Also Sir Launcelot, for all the love that ever was betwixt us, make no tarrying, but come over the sea in all haste, that thou mayst with thy noble knights rescue that noble king that made thee knight, that is my lord Arthur; for he is full straitly bestead with a false traitor, that is my half-brother, Sir Mordred; and he hath let crown him king, and would have wedded my lady Queen Guenever, and so had he done had she not put herself in the Tower of London. And so the tenth day of May last past, my lord Arthur and we all landed upon them at Dover; and there we put that false traitor, Sir Mordred, to flight, and there it misfortuned me to be stricken upon thy stroke. And at the date of this letter was written, but two hours and a half afore my death, written with mine own hand, and so subscribed with part of my heart's blood. And I require thee, most famous knight of the world, that thou wilt see my tomb. And then Sir Gawaine wept, and King Arthur wept; and then they swooned both. And when they awaked both, the king made Sir Gawaine to receive his Saviour. And then Sir Gawaine prayed the king for to send for Sir Launcelot, and to cherish him above all other knights. (Le Morte D'Arthur, Sir Thomas Mallory. book XXI, chapter II)

(vulgate IV, p139). honestly? no comment here. it speaks for itself. this bit is where the ship name remarkable comes from.

of course, this is by no means a comprehensive post, just moments i can remember off the top of my head. and a lot of this can be attributed to today's view of male homosociality and how it's changed since the middle ages, skewing our view of what could have been, by all means, a platonic relationship. however it is my personal belief and interpretation that they were in love <3 muah the end i hope you enjoyed. i tried my best to explain both story and cultural context the best i could without going into irrelevant detail...i hope this is enough!

[vetochkarowan]

Woah, anon, there is always value in exploring the parts of the universe the creator has defined for the character themselves. Knowing that Dal is around, supportive, and some insights into what's happened with the spawn isn't wasted time. Not everything needs to solely revolve around the relationship of two characters in a story where we only see them and that's it. That comment did not come off kindly and sometimes we don't need to agree with everything a creator does or decides to explore, it doesn't mean our interpretation is appreciated.

Oh, thank you! 💛🧡💛 Your words resonate well with my own perspective, and now, taking this opportunity, I’ll say that I think it’s important to maintain a balance in stories (at least for me), perhaps even to follow some intuition. Sometimes there’s a feeling that a scene is important for the future, and it’s true. The person who mentioned Dal earlier guessed well: she’s really needed for the plot.

But at the same time, I’m a big fan of “just like in life,” and life is full of random events and little details, Chekhov’s guns that turn out to be water pistols, and plotless, meaningless things that make life beautiful. Many episodes lead nowhere, don’t develop the characters, and exist simply because the characters are alive, and these moments are a part of that.

But that’s all, thank you for coming to my TED talk. 🫡🧡

[murdercide626]

Regarding Gerald in Sonic 3

(SPOILERS!!)

I've been thinking about how Gerald Robotnik was depicted in the third Sonic movie, and I have some observations.

I'm sure some fans have been comparing Gerald as shown in the film versus the games and taken note of not only how much sillier he is in the movie, but also how he's depicted as being considerably more villainous.

There are a couple things to consider though. In the games (especially since Shadow Generations) the majority of what we see of Gerald is from before the tragedy on the ARK and losing Maria, and we only get brief bits of him after he lost his sanity.

However in the movie it's the exact opposite situation. Almost everything we see of Gerald in the film is after Maria's death and he's clearly lost his sanity. Not only that, but because Gerald in the film never got executed, he spent many decades in a prison cell, stewing in his despair and rage, becoming more and more bitter and deranged while also extending his lifespan to an unnatural length by dosing himself with chaos energy from Shadow's quill.

But you might say, "Gerald in the movie only saw Shadow as a tool and didn't love him." While there's evidence of that being true in the present day, there's little to suggest that's the case in the very brief bit we see of Gerald in the flashback he's shown in before Maria's death. I personally think Gerald did have a fondness for Shadow before the tragedy, likely through observing Maria's close friendship with him. When Gerald retrieves Maria and Shadow to flea the facility he refers to them both collectively as "children", meaning he possibly had a similar fondness for both of them. I think that after Maria's death though, Gerald's slipping sanity, disillusionment with humanity, and obsession with avenging Maria's death, probably made him lose sight of the love he once had for Shadow.

And there is even evidence of the same thing happening in the games, with Gerald treating Shadow as little more than a tool for his posthumous plan for genocidal vengeance, which would have ended with Shadow's death too. Gerald even tampered with Shadow's memories of Maria to ensure he'd carry out his plans.

There's also evidence in the games of Gerald having an ego similar to Eggman's, shown by him modeling the ARK to resemble his face. Gerald even sheepishly confessed in his journal he was being self indulgent when designing the ARK. So it would seem in the games Gerald does possess at least some of the negative traits shared with his grandson, though he's self aware of these flaws and tries to suppress them. Gerald in the movie however is at a point where he's way past caring, since he's already decided to destroy the earth and everyone on it, so he's just letting his freak flag fly. lol

So if Gerald hadn't been executed in the games, who knows how he might have turned out. Gerald being executed was probably a mercy, really...

And it should also be noted that Sega themselves even considered resurrecting Gerald as a villainous character in the early production of Shadow's solo game.

That actually brings me to another thing I was thinking about while watching the movie. In Sonic 3, they repeatedly emphasize how similar Eggman and Gerald are in appearance, quirks, skills, and even wearing near identical outfits at the end. Sonic even collectively refers to them both as "Eggmen".

This stood out to me because it reminded me of the Rush games where Eggman teamed up with Eggman Nega, a character that was near identical to Eggman, but having a greying mustache and a darker, more twisted personality.

As I've mentioned in previous posts, I've had a theory that the scrapped plot point of resurrecting Gerald as a villain is what led to the creation of the Eggman Nega character. So seeing Gerald as depicted in the movie was like seeing it all come full circle. lol

But anyway, yeah, this has been another stream of consciousness rant from me. Maybe you got something out of this, or maybe not. Oh well. lol

And just to make myself clear, I am NOT trying to argue that Gerald is a bad person in the games (at least before Maria died). If what I said came across like that, then I'm sorry, but that was definitely not my intention.

[youremychaos]

Harrow, my love…it’s been a while hasn’t it? Life has been crazy these last few months, and I completely missed your update. However, I am here now and ready to dig in!!

First of all I completely forgot that Jimin woke up in Yoongi’s pov (had to backtrack a little lol)…which threw me for a whole ass loop when I started reading this ‘cause what do you mean JIMIN?! The way my heart stopped and I wiggled in my seat. My baby has come the fuck home!!

How dare you throw Haegeum!Yoongi in my face like this…that man has me in a chokehold that I don’t wanna be let out of. The image of Taehyung wearing a balaclavas does something to my core…those eyes just peeking out…yeah, sir whatever you want, you can have it.

Okay the build up of Yoongi coming up to see MC is crazy, my vibrating in my seat! I want them to link up again already!!! Joon too, that man needs a good hug. 

The main character has arrived!!! Yoooooonnnngggiiiiii…what an entrance my guy! Stroll in with a pair of bloody chopsticks and a simple, “Darling”...what a charmer.

You would be amused by the visual of Yoongi leaping onto him like a kitten if the situation were not so infuriating.

This right here? Yummy and funny. I like your visual even though I’ve seen it with my own eyes from the mv.

Coming up to the end of the first half, I know Yoongi is feeling all types of kicked sideways. Bringing Jimin is a huge gamble and kind of manipulative all things considered. If anyone could bring MC back it would be Jimin but I don’t think he would push for her to join them again. I feel that Jimin more than anyone can understand where MC is coming from and her mixed emotions about everything that has taken place so far. It seems that Yoongi knew his gamble might not work and has something else up his sleeve. He isn’t the type to just leave so willingly. 

MC comparing Yoongi and Ryujin hurts. I can see what she means but damn does it hurt to admit it. After all is said and done, Yoongi is a shady ass dude with a shaky track record in love. The way he goes about things aren’t always clear and are often very infuriating. So, I can see why MC is reluctant to go back. The song lyric “How deep is your love?” comes to mind when I think of the trio together. Namjoon and Yoongi would kill for MC and if push comes to shove, I think she could do the same but she would feel bad about it whereas Namgi just keep it pushing like it didn’t happen. I have so many thoughts and feelings about this but I shall read more to see what’s going on.

Harrow, you play dirty! ATEEZ as bodyguards?! How am I going to survive this fic, huh?! You’ve pulled so many of my favorite idols into this universe that I don’t know who to drool over…it is unfair! But I will say, ATEEZ do fit the vibe, so good choice!

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

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

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

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

Jimin is alive and well, the way I was tearing up as they hugged. But started giggling right after seeing how Ryujin and Hwasa left MC to be stuck in between Yoongi and Namjoon. What good friends they are lol

The one on one talk went a lot better than I thought it would. MC needed to let those tears out with Yoongi and I’m more at ease that he is willing to wait for her mental health to get better. Healing takes time and having him/the guys not push for her to come home too soon means a lot. Goodbyes and hellos are hard, but the way you pulled apart each interaction was wonderful, the tension between Jungkook and MC is still there which I love. I tend to forget that they have their own thing going on at times because I get so wrapped up in Namgi/MC.

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

Oh shit…things are bout to take a turn for the worst right? Now that I’m thinking about it, does Hwasa know what Christian looks like? Does Ryujin? And if so…would she give MC easily or put up a fight? Ryujin is asking waaaayyyy too many questions about MC's relationship with the family men and Hwasa is giving up too much information...I'm not sure how I feel about it.

I am starting to not trust Ryujin again. Her dinner speech had me on edge, like it was a backhanded request almost…kind of on the lines of “we’ll be cool once i’m back in my rightful place”. I could be wrong but idk, that’s the feeling I got. I’m not trusting Ryujin at all right now! What do you mean, it doesn’t matter? I swear if she was/is messing around with Christian, I’ll scream!

I mean it is possible she could have a relationship with Hwasa but I doubt that. I think it would be with someone that holds more power. Ryujin is starting to show her ass and I’m not a fan. If you were married/dating whatever with Yoongi in the past, keep that shit to yourself! Telling MC that nothing has changed or that you were the same as her…that’s just evil. Planting seeds of doubt when there really doesn’t need to be any….but if I want to play devil’s advocate, if Yoongi does truly feel something for MC he should treat her differently than how he treated Ryujin. On the other hand, he has an image to uphold, so certain styles are expected as the woman of the house.

I hope Yoongi puts a fucking bullet in Ryujin’s skull, right between her eyes! This slimy two-faced bitch! Harmless my ass! I want to reach through the screen and punch Ryujin myself! Damnit, I am so pissed off. You know MC’s history or at least a little with Christian. She knows MC wants nothing to do with him and once Yoongi finds out all bets are off. There is no respect or trust to be gained. Whatever good could have come with working together will be shot to shit cause it will be an all out war over MC.

I’m trying to think of what chapter it was but there was a part where either Yoongi or MC was trying to figure out how Christian got so much power. I know that Seokjin was a part of it but could Ryujin be too? Is there more to Seokjin that still hasn’t been uncovered yet? Once again this man is on my shit list. He knows more than he is willing to tell and Ryujin is on some kind of other shit that will backfire for sure.

Once again, I am left at the end of the chapter with so many theories and questions. I love that every character is so freaking two-faced. I never know what to expect. I'm excited to see what you whip up next and I'm prepared to scream about it. At some point I'll scream in your dms when I get the chance.

I love you and your mind!!!

Collateral 🗡️ 23: This life of death and destruction

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

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

🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon

🗡️ word count: 13.6k

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

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

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

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

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

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🗡️ posted sept. 2024 | read on ao3

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All you can say in response is, “Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What about him?" Hwasa asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He mutters, "Fine." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Darling, I—" 

"Go home," you interrupt. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is Jimin here?" you ask. 

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

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

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

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

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow hard. "Hmm?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hum and nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Going to the bathroom," you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You actually feel…good.

* * *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi says nothing. 

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

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

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

Yoongi chuckles softly. "Are you not hungry?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, you think. Probably not. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Still having those dreams?" Namjoon asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Coke?" she asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's his name?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And Namjoon," Ryujin supplies. 

Hwasa's grin widens. 

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

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

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

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

Hwasa nods and says, "Me too!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm looking forward to hosting you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

I never asked to be like this

🎵 visit the playlist

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

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

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

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

[dearmrsawyer]

no year in review because it was all horrible really so instead i'm gonna take this chance to share a pile of incredible soc fics because they gave me somewhere else to be

these are all amazing stories and they made me feel a variety of things, and i've been compelled to return to all of them more than once. there are honestly more but this was getting very long. all fic authors thank you so much for putting such beautiful things out into the world ✨

To Everything There Is A Season by @basicbard, @ace-kaz-brekker

When times on the farm get tough, Jesper decides to make use of the old temple in the woods. Almost coincidentally, he meets a strange boy in the same woods shortly after. Are his prayers truly being answered? And why does the stranger seem to know so much?

Incredibly incredibly lovely little mythical fic that i am so enchanted by, this is a type of story that i'm always looking for and when someone who shares your interest happens to create it that is a gift from god, frankly

out of the forest (into a home) by stillthestars

Wylan is adrift in the city; Jesper and the rest of the Crows take him in. Daemon AU.

I have read this fic so many times, every couple of months at least, and the comments are turned off so i can never tell the author how much I love what they've created and i literally lie awake at night haunted by this (i do mean literally).

A Shot in the Dark by alex_kade

The Crows are on a treasure hunt, but when Wylan gets seriously injured the mission becomes one of saving their friend. OR yet another fic where Wylan is the bravest of brave little toasters.

The first in my love affair with fics where Wylan gets shot lol. "bravest of brave little toasters" lives in my head rent free always.

A Measure the Sum of its Parts by @kindness-ricochets

Wylan is trying to improve Kerch and Jesper is trying to be happy with his life. After an accident he heads for the Little Palace to learn how to control his abilities, and Wylan uncovers yet another dark family secret. Reunions in Ravka, political machinations, and the beauty of a strange little family.

The other fic i am biologically compelled to reread every couple of months. So so many fics by this author touch me, but this one is seriously everything to me.

Musée des Beaux Arts by @oneofthewednesdays

Six portraits of life and death in Ketterdam featuring the interwoven stories of Wylan Van Eck and Kaz Brekker.

One of the best fics i've ever read in any fandom, an utterly perfect character analysis fic about the Wylan/Kaz parallels

the handmaid by MaudeAlise

It’s a relatively straightforward job: Jesper will pretend to be the handmaid to the withdrawn and sheltered Van Eck heir, and convince him to elope with another mercher. That’s all Jesper has to do on his end, and then the Crows will walk away with 45 million kruge. It’s a simple task. Or it would be, if not for the fact that there seems to be more to Wylan Van Eck than meets the eye, and Jesper can’t help but be intrigued—and maybe a bit charmed, too.

Me reading this fic channeling whatever energy those instagram romantasy readers possess, like ok i get the feeling you guys are trying to express i really get it now. what on earth could be better than Jesper employed to be Wylan's handmaid. maybe nothing? SO compelling

under a merciless white light by @feelinglikecleopatra

Jesper decides to grow out his hair.

one of the most moving fics i've ever read ever, idek how to express it

Love is War (And War is Hell) by @silverbirching

Jesper and Wylan face their biggest challenge as a couple to date: dealing with a houseguest. (and that houseguest has done war crimes)

WIP. Nothing could've prepared me for how completely smitten I would be with the concept of Jesper and Wylan taking care of a wounded Ivan. Like i'm head over heels for this fic, its hilarious and sweet and emotional, it is just way too delightful, i can't handle it

Flight of the Butterfly / Symbiosis by @jazzythursday

travel time between Shu Han and Ravka. Jesper wanders onto the deck of the Hummingbird at night, restless and looking for… something, and finds Wylan instead. Conversations about sensitive topics ensue, and even Crows need sleep.

my fav missing scene fic inspired by SAB!!!! I was DESPERATE for more time on that ship and this fic gave me everything i wanted. the characterisation in this fic is flawless

If you hold me without hurting me, you'll be the first who ever did by gglow

Jesper and Wylan's first times at the Van Eck mansion, because we all need closure.

i can't get enough of fics set immediately after CK exploring how Wylan and Jesper settle into the mansion, this might be my favourite one i've read, its just so tender

somewhere full of bright colours and beautiful sounds by @jackwolfes

A Marya Hendriks Van Eck character study, aka Marya adjusts to life back in Ketterdam.

So many fics by this author, but i think about this fic all of the time. Its the fic i've always wanted and its everything i could've hoped for.

We're Gonna Need a Bigger Pentagram by @emmy-everafter

Nina Zenik is a vet med student who's almost done with her clinical rotations… but she's also secretly a very powerful witch. When someone brings a cursed, injured werewolf into the animal hospital, Nina decides to try to save his life, despite the bitter hatred that exists between wolves and witches. She enlists the help of her housemates, Jesper (who's also a witch), Inej (who's fae), and Kaz (who may or may not be a vampire). But breaking this curse requires more than Nina bargained for, and time is running out. Can the Crows save the werewolf before it's too late? More importantly, can they do it under the nose of their all-too-human housemate, Wylan? And--perhaps the most important question of all--will Nina finally get some decent waffles?

PURE joy, just made me so happy??? extremely delightful, fun, also super touching. Just so so so rich. One of my fav AUs, making all the crows a different creature and then putting them in a house together, A+.

To Live in Color by @sixofcrowdaydreams

As a child Wylan Van Eck was told by his father that domestic labor is all he will ever accomplish since he cannot read. He’s grown up cleaning his own family’s home. It’s not easy work, but it’s gotten easier over the years. If only he wasn’t so lonely. But now that his father has remarried and a has a new heir on the way, Wylan has the suspicion that he won’t be kept around much longer, even to clean. So for once in Wylan’s life, he decides to live for himself. Just this once. He’ll attend the King’s Masquerade Ball whether his father wants him there or not. However, his plan the night of the masquerade goes sideways when he meets a handsome sharpshooter and the criminal crew he runs with carrying out a heist at the palace. Wesper Cinderella AU

one of those perfect storm fics where not only is the writing wonderful, the characterisation on point, but the story itself is just SO engrossing. this was heartbreaking and uplifting

The In-Between by @sparrowmoth

Born into a world where a highly stigmatized and exploited series of genetic mutations can completely strip you of your humanity, Wylan has known since childhood that something was different about him. The same something different that is said to have killed his mother. Now, abandoned by his father, and his world shrunk to a cage, he must decide if to accept his fate or risk everything to change it.

WIP. The.... worldbuilding..... magnifique. this fic has me exclaiming GOD at least once a chapter lol. I haven't read many hybrid fics in my time but i fear i am now spoiled and no one can live up to this

Crows of the Saintly Days by Allthebestpeopleare

A very chaotic Inej, Nina and Jesper go to Ketterdam University. Things start to get interesting when Nina catches the eye of a cute jock in psych class, a very shy and sweet Wylan stumbles into their friend group, and a past associate of Inej's makes more and more appearances.

Prob the longest fic i've ever read, but genuinely would not sacrifice a single word. Weaves textfic and prose, and altho imo textfic can be kinda vapid/ooc what starts out as v light fun spirals into a wonderfully well developed story that really deeply moved me, and i loved the style!

Blood in the Water by hopeisbloody

Kaz Brekker runs the Barrel, his Wraith, and his Sharpshooter at either side for eternity. Jesper Fahey, ten years into his immortality, still a fledgling at heart, feels lost, alone, empty. Kaz and Inej have each other, and they have had each other for centuries. Even in their inner circle, he’s excluded from the millennia of memories they share. Their rule is disrupted. Bodies appear, drowned, drained of blood. Wylan is back, but what for?

This is one of the coolest Wylan characterisations i've ever read, such an incredibly engrossing story, I literally could not stop reading

We Keep This Dream Together by @magicandpizza

An entirely self-indulgent, vaguely chaotic, mostly sweet Six of Crows coffee shop/university AU, based (largely) on my experiences of the UK university system. Mostly focused on Wesper, but with sides of Helnik and Kanej too.

The most comfort fic ever, its not technically a Christmas fic (altho it does appear in a chapter) but feels like a Christmas fic to me because it makes me feel a sense of warmth and comfort that time of year embodies

a path to normal by seimaisin

Home is a difficult concept for Wylan and his mother. Jesper makes it easier.

so delicate and lovely, another fic set in the direct aftermath of CK focused on Marya returning home, which i can never get enough of <3333

In a Full Life, All Hearts Break a Little by alcove_words

Two years after the end of Crooked Kingdom, Jesper finally visits Novyi Zem and the father and life he left behind. But he isn't alone; Wylan comes, as well, determined to be supportive. Neither of them expects it to be an easy trip, but Novyi Zem holds more for both of them than they are prepared for.

Selling my soul for all fics set in Novyi Zem, but this one...... so SO beautiful. So conversation-based but full of story, so BIG hearted, such unbelievably beautiful writing.

Of Bronze and Blaze by amagicbeyond

This is a Wesper-centric reimagining of Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom, through the lens of the Shadow and Bones TV canon.

WIP. Oh my god????? Oh... my god. I don't even have words for this one, its just unbelievable