#just a thought i've had on my mind for a while...

[lila-went-missing]

Hiii, saw you wanted some requests for Sevika and I've had this idea bubbling up for a while. Imagine Vika with a reader that's normally experienced, yk has fucked one or two people before and it's not a sex god, and they're growing insecure about sevika never starting intimacy even after months of dating, so they think it's because they're not as good as the girl's she's been with before. Idk just thought that'd be good

I'm kind of obsessed with this, ngl. This isn't the first smut that I've written but it is the first smut that I've posted on here so feedback is always appreciated. Y'all will never guess... it's not proofread. Again. Enjoy my lovelies! X

Warnings: Smut (obviously), mild angst but nothing too horrible, mentions of body image issues but readers body type isn't specified or described.

Fem reader, of course, with female genitalia.

At first, you didn't think anything of it. She probably just wanted to take things slow with you. You weren't as experienced as her so she probably wanted to take her time.

That made sense for a while.

But now, after eight months together, you haven't had sex once. More importantly, she hasn't initiated it.

Realistically, you know that it's fine. There's plenty of reasons as to why nothing has happened so far. But that voice in the back of your head is doing a fantastic job of convincing you otherwise.

Sevika was kind of a sex symbol before you two got together.

She'd been with countless women, she was a regular at Babbettes. Her name was uttered on the streets like a sacred prayer.

You, on the other hand, have only been with two people: your ex, and a drunken one night stand that was less than satisfactory. So you did have sexual experience, but not nearly as much as her.

Honestly, it's starting to worry you.

Did she not like you? Was she not physically attracted to you? Was there something wrong with your body? Were you not showing enough skin?

Thoughts plagued your mind night and day. You were stuck in constant turmoil. It was impossible to stop your own brain once it got going.

It was taking everything in you to focus on the stove and not burn dinner.

You flinch at the sound of the door closing. Heavy footsteps sound through the house, approaching the kitchen.

Sevikas thick arms wrap around your midsection, her face making home in the side of your neck. For a long time, she doesn't say anything. The only sounds come from the meat sizzling in your pan. Moments like this make it easier to not think about the painful lack of aw sex life between you two.

Her lips purse, pressing small kisses against your skin. She hums against your neck.

"What are you cooking doll?" Her voice is muffled against your flesh but you understand her all the same.

"Spaghetti." You feel her smile.

"My favorite.." She mumbles. You hum a small "Mhm" before focusing back on the seasoned beef and water you're waiting for to boil. Her arms tighten ever so slightly, one hand slipping under your shirt. Her thumb caresses your bare skin.

It should be sweet but it really just drives the nail into the coffin for you.

Your voice comes out before you can stop it.

"Why won't you have sex with me?" You regret it the moment it leaves your mouth.

"I- woah, what? Doll what do you mean?" She honestly sounds baffled.

"Forget I said anything, please. It doesn't matter."

Her hands gently grab your shoulders, turning you around.

"No way. What are you talking about?"

You shake your head. "It's stupid.."

"It's not stupid if it's bothering you." She reassures you.

"It's just, we've been together for eight months, and we practically live together. But we haven't done anything. I know you don't have an issue having sex because half the undercity talks about how good you are and I just don't understand. Is there something wrong with me? Am I not appealing to yo-" Your rant is cut off by her lips. Her hands are holding you like glass, one on your cheek, one curled around your hip.

"There is nothing wrong with you." Her voice comes out as a soft whisper. "I'm sorry I made you feel like there was. I just knew that you don't have as much experience as I do. I didn't want you to feel rushed, or forced."

"Rushed? No, you could never.. I thought you just didn't want me that way." She immediately shakes her head. She kisses you again, more urgently this time.

Her hands grab anywhere they can, pulling you in. They're on your hips, waist, groping your ass.

"I do want you." Then they're picking you up and lifting you on the counter. "Let me show you how much I want you?" All you can do is nod as her lips trail down your neck. Her touch dances over your body, removing your top.

Her mouth follows soon after, sucking dark bruises into the skin on your neck and chest. She takes a nipple in her mouth and swirls her tongue around it. A low whimper leaves your mouth at the new, but not unpleasant, sensation.

Her right hand copies her tongue's motions on the other, pinching and pulling. Your body trembles against the counter with need.

She moves away from your breasts, kissing and licking down your stomach to your navel. Her hands unbutton your pants. She looks up at you as she lowers herself to her knees, silently asking for permission. You nod your head. You don't trust your voice. Your pants are off in seconds and thrown somewhere in the kitchen that you'll worry about later.

Her hand splays across your stomach and gently pushes you to lay against the tile. It's cold against your bare and burning skin, your back arching off of it but she keeps your hips pinned down.

You gasp as her teeth nip at the skin of your thigh. A breathy laugh leaves her.

"Shut up.." You mutter.

"Didn't say anything."

Your eyes roll in fake annoyance but you don't get the chance to reply as the cold air hits your bare cunt. Her thumbs pull your lips apart, admiring the sight before her.

"Fuck doll, you're so wet. All of this for me?" Her voice is husky between your legs and it stirs something delicious in your belly.

"Yes, all for you Sev.." She chuckles. Her teeth take the hem of your panties and drag them down your legs. She kisses your hips and navel, sucking hickies and marking you as hers.

"Please, Vika. Need you.." You whine. You can't bring yourself to care about how desperate you sound. You're sure that you look even more so from her position.

It seems, though, that your prayers have been answered because as soon as the words leave your mouth hers is back on you. This time it's between your legs.

She licks a long stripe up your pussy before stopping to suck your clit into her mouth. A loud moan reverberates from your chest as you lean your head back into the counter. Her tongue kitten licks at the bud before suckling on it like shes trying to nurse herself.

You've had people eat you out before but never this well. You don't think it could get better than this.

She moves down, opting to fuck you with her tongue instead. You definitely understand the appeal now. You've given yourself plenty of orgasms but this is the fastest one has risen before.

She feels it in the way you clench around her tongue and moves back to your clit. Her fingers fill up the now empty space, fucking into you in a gently but rough way only she could manage.

She's eating you like a woman starved and with the lack of sex the two of you have had she may as well be. If you didn't know better you might think this is her last meal.

Gasps and whimpers leave your mouth in a desperate way you can't stop.

"Fuck Sev.. ngh~ m'gonna cum, please.."

She smirks against you once more, speeding up her ministrations.

"Come on my tongue baby, make a mess on me." Her voice is muffled against you cunt, vibrations travel through your clit with her words.

You last maybe thirty seconds longer, hand tangled in her hair, before releasing over her tongue.

She laps you up, milking you for all that you're worth. She's never tasted anything more delicious. Her mouth doesn't let up until your whimpering from the overstimulation and pushing her head away.

She looks you in the eye as she sucks her fingers clean before kissing back up your body. Her lips lock onto yours and you can still taste yourself on her tongue. It makes your head spin in a way you've never felt before.

When you come back to earth, her hand is running through your hair.

"I'm sorry I made you believe that I didn't want to do that." She mumbles. "But now I may need it to be a daily thing." You giggle at her words.

"It's okay. I wouldn't mind honestly." She helps you sit up, a large hand cupping your cheek. "You didn't get to cum.." You whisper as you lean in closer.

"Don't worry about me, I'll get my fill later." The look on her face tells you that this isn't over. "I'm going to change out of these clothes. You just worry about dinner okay?" She slips your panties back on along with your shirt.

You nod, sliding off the counter. You wince at the mess you made but she's already wiping it up. Her lips meet your temple as she mutters a low, "I love you."

"I love you more." She shakes her head, chuckling before walking back to her room. You feel much better now, and you really can't wait for what she meant by "later".

[abbyssgf]

𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞!𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

• concept: spring was coming and with that spring cleaning, during cleaning the basement with sevika you pleased her to lift the boxes so you could glance at her muscular arms. when sevika noticed it the both of you ended up having a sex against the wall<3

• words: 2.0k

• warnings: trans!sevika, sevika has a dick, pet names; baby, babe, darling, etc, sex against the wall, dirty talk, cursing, yeah that's probably all

• author note: that's was so fucking good to write, omfg. I need to calm down after writing this anyway enjoy the fanfic! :P

Spring was coming so it was obvious that you and Sevika had to do the spring cleaning of your house, mostly you wanted to throw away things you no longer need 'cause you didn't want to have essential things in your home knowing you or your wife won't use it.

Right now both of you were packing things you didn't use from your basement, sitting on the floor in your basement. Sevika was wearing a black tank top which showed off her muscular arms and you couldn't just stop looking at her and her well toned body. She also wore short black baggy shorts that she had pulled down to her waist so her abs when she raised her arms were also very visible to your eyes.

Sevika didn't notice at first your glances towards her 'cause she was mostly focused on packing things she didn't need, she didn't want to distract herself 'cause you scolded her one time for being distracted and not doing her tasks but now you weren't even better. All of you could think about is Sevika and her well muscular body, how those arms feel around your body and how good those hands would feel on your hips while she would fuck you from the back-

Your cheeks flushed and you shake your head to calm yourself down. After all, from the both of you, you were the one who wanted to do the work as quickly as possible but now you weren't even able to focus because of your wife.

"babe" Sevika’s voice stopped your thoughts and your eyes met. "everything is okay?" she asked with a gentle voice, she noticed that you were a bit doze off and it concerned her, god, only is she knows why you were a little bit off.

"no, everything is okay, baby, you don't have to worry," you said to Sevika and smiled at her, trying to convince her that you were absolutely okay. more than okay. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?" she asked and you nodded "uh-huh"

Then an idea comes to your mind "I've packed the things, could you please lift it and… carry it to the living room?" you asked your wife and she agreed. "Of course, babe" sevika answered and picked her own box and then your, without knowing she flexed her muscles and she disappeared into the living room.

"fuck" you cursed under your breath not knowing why you couldn't focus on the tasks. You grab another box and start placing things into this. not longer than a minute, sevika showed up again in the basement and looked at you. She walked up to you and leaned to place a kiss on your head, you looked up at her and slightly frowned. "what?" you asked and she just smiled "nothing, I just wanted to kiss my beautiful wife" she responded and you playfully rolled your eyes.

"come back to work" you said to sevika and she sighed, pretending to be irritated. "what if I don't want to?" She asked with a sly smirk and you looked at her "sevika" you scolded her and she rolled her eyes playfully, she knew to better not to tease you when you started to call her her full name "alright, alright" she murmured and in a silence the both of you continued to packing the boxes.

In a few moments you and Sevika packed a few boxes and every single one you asked (politely and gently of course) your wife to lift them up for you 'cause as you said to her 'it was too heavy' and you couldn't do it.

When Sevika lifted up a really one light box she raised her brow and looked down at you "Sweetie" she started which made you look up to see her gray eyes "it's light, you can lift it up by yourself" she noticed and started to notice something about your behavior.

"oh" you murmured trying to play, shocked, you stood up and smiled shyly to her "well, I didn't notice it, vika" you answered to her and your gaze accidentally slipped down to her muscular arms and then to her eyes. She caught it. That was it. A sly smirk came on her lips and you knew that your little evil plan had been discovered.

"you just wanted me to lift those boxes up so you could look at my arms, baby?" Sevika asked you in a playful tone, teasing you knowing damn well that the answer was positive. She dropped the box carefully and took a step forward to you.

"…maybe" you answered as she walked to you with that stupid smirk on her lips. Sevika stood in front of you and wrapped her arms around your waist. "You could just ask me to flex my muscles in front of you, you know, I would gave you a private show" Sevika murmured as she started to place kisses on the side of your neck. You moved your neck to the left side to give sevika more space on your neck.

Sevika hummed oto your neck and she moved her lips from your neck to your jawline and then she stopped to look into your eyes. "you don't know what you do to me" she murmured and before you could answer her, she connected your lips in a passionate, warm, wet kiss, dominating your lips, sliding her tongue into your mouth sloppily while her hands moved down to grab your butt and squeezed them.

you whined in her mouth and placed your hands on the back of her muscular arms while you were making out. "sev" you moaned between your kisses and sevika squeezed again your butt with her hands "yeah?" she hummed into your lips, not wanting to stop kissing you.

"I want you" you said as you stopped the kisses for a moment to catch a breath and to say that to Sevika. "yeah, I guessed that" she answered with a smirk on her face, teasing you. You rolled your eyes at her words and groaned "vika, i'm fucking serious" you replied to her with a slight grimace on your lips and she kissed you on the corner of your mouth.

"i know, baby, relax" Sevika murmured and one of her hands slipped under your t-shirt. Her hand brushed your skin and a shiver ran down your spine. "I'll take care of you, yeah?" She murmured to your ear and she placed her hands on your pants. Then she picked you up, you immediately wrapped your legs around her waist to make sure you won't fall. Sevika placed her hands underneath your things and she pinned you against the nearest wall.

"Fuck, sev" You whined and you captured your lips into another sloppy, wet kiss while your hands started to touch sevika's body. You slipped your hand underneath her tank top, your hands started to move over her skin and toned abs and you could hear her soft whine from your touch.

Sevika could feel how her cock twitched at your movements and she knew she needed you now. In a second. at the moment. "baby, please" Sevika whined into your mouth and you moaned at her words. "You want me, sev?" you asked her as your hand slid down to her bulge in her shorts. "fuck, yeah" She murmured as a response to your words.

Sevika carefully let go of one of your legs, still holding you with hers, to take off her shorts. You helped her a little and you took off her black boxers. Excite rushed down to your core as your gaze stopped at her long, thick, hard cock, from whose head pre-ejaculate flowed.

Quickly, you slipped off your shorts and underwear along with them and sevika helped you take them off completely, throwing them on the floor next to you. Sevika's hand wandered to her dick and she wrapped her hand around him.

"c'mon, baby, I want to feel you inside me" You said to Sevika and she nodded, she needed that too and both of you knew it. Your breath stopped for a moment when Sevika directed her dick to your hole and after a while she slid inside you, the sound of your and Sevika's moans echoing throughout the basement.

"fuck…fuck, sev, mhm" You whined as you started to adjust to her length. Sevika's hand tightened underneath your thighs as she needed her whole strength to stop herself from pounding into you right there, right now but she knew that you needed a moment or two to adjust to her long, hard cock.

"that's it, baby" Sevika mumbled to you. Sevika groaned and leaned forward to you and placed a kiss on your neck "you're so fucking perfect" Sevika said to you and with that she started to move her hips. You moaned at the friendly feeling and your arms tightened on her muscular back.

The angle was perfect, you could feel all of her dick inside you. the sound of skin slapping against each other and the wet sound of your arousal echoed throughout the basement. It was almost embarrassing how pornographic the sounds were.

Every moan from Sevika's mouth, the movement causing her cock to hit your G-spot perfectly made you closer and closer to cumming here and now. "damn, vika" you whimpered and you leaned your head against the wall, moaning at the feeling.

"you're taking me…" Sevika groaned as she moved her hips back at forth, pounding into you "so fucking good" she ended her sentence and she started to move more quickly and that made you moan from pleasure.

"this clit is perfect for my cock, baby, god, i love you, i love your pussy" Sevika murmured as the pleasure and making you come on her cock was the only thing in her mind right now. "mhmp, vika, oh fuck" you moaned as you could feel your body was close to come on her cock.

Sevika could feel that you were close to coming, she felt how your pussy tightened around her cock and she groaned at the feeling. "cum on me, darling, cum on my dick" Sevika babbled while she was digging into you.

A few of her movements were enough to make you come, your eyes rolled back into your head from the pleasure, your breathing was ragged and heavy and your whole body was filled with pleasure. Moments later after you Sevika came and her cum was inside you and a shiver of pleasure ran through you. Your and your wife's heavy breathing was the only sound between you for a moment.

"i love you, vika" you murmured to your wife in a weary, gently voice. Sevika smiled gently and leaned to place a soft kiss on your lips. She took this moment to pull her cock out of you and you both moaned into each other's lips. Your cum and her dripped between your thighs and you sighed.

"Let's go to the bathroom and clean you up, okay?" Sevika said to you and you nodded. "yeah, the boxes can wait one more moment longer," you said to Sevika and she smiled warmly at your words. "yeah, you're right," she said and scooped you into her arms. You giggled at it and wrapped your arms around her neck.

"I'm sure these boxes won't miss us" Sevika said in a playfully, joking tone and you snorted with laughter and kissed her on her check. "i'm sure that too, sev" You replied to her and in Sevika's arms she carried you to the bathroom and took care of you there.

taglist: @abbyslvrrr @noacinno @nytloq @l0vel3tterl0ver @pizzabbs @dvrkhcld @sannyangel89 @moondient @maat2hot

[wh1ski]

His Perfect Doll

pairing : toji fushiguro / fem reader

rating + word count : explicit + 2.7K

tags : free use, daddy kink (?), one mention of breeding, slight choking, slight body worship, slight bimbofication (?), i suck at tagging.

got bored and was like hey, lets write. ask box is open for requests. enjoy <3

the relationship you had with toji wasn't that different than any other relationship. just like any woman, you cooked and cleaned for your man, you folded his laundry and even ironed them… there was the small, rather noticeable, fact that you just happened to do all of these things naked. toji didn’t buy you clothes. instead he bought you fishnet bodysuits, maid aprons and thongs, knee high stockings and mary janes. anything that left very little to the imagination, anything that could give him quick access to your body. you didn't mind this, you were living the life! anything you wanted, toji would buy you. all you had to do was present yourself to him whenever he felt like fucking.

sometimes it wasn’t fucking. it was toji tying you up on the couch and having a toy thrusting in you while he played his little game system next to you, letting whoever he was playing with hear you moaning loudly in the background. other times it could be toji coming home from work and just wanting to bury his dick in something warm. you on his lap, reverse cowgirl style, dick inside you while he scrolls through his phone and slaps your ass anytime you try to move. you were nothing but a living breathing sex doll and you preferred it no other way.

you were making cookies, something sweet for your sweetie, when he walked in the house. you didn't speak, just turned to smile at him and wait to see if he needed you to do anything for him. toji looked at you with a grin, placing his gun on the counter before taking off his shirt, scarred abs on full display. you could have melted at the sight of his body, your cunt starting to clamp down on nothing as you got further excited to see just what toji was in the mood for today.

there was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he walked towards you slowly. you wanted to squirm, walk towards him, anything to get your hands on him quicker. but you didn’t. you knew better than that. you were tojis perfect doll and you aimed to please him. once he got close to you, he pulled the apron you were wearing off. exposing you wearing nothing but black stockings, a thong and your favorite pair of heels. he only whispered two words to you, his lips so close to your face, your eyes staring deeply into his with yearning. “bedroom. now.” and you automatically turned around to begin walking in that direction, no thoughts in your head other than the ones about how you were ready to be a good human fleshlight for toji.

before you could even take a seat on the bed, toji was grabbing your tits from behind, making a small gasp come from you. involuntarily, your hips bucked forward and a moan slipped out as he rolled and pulled at your nipples. god, he always knew how to make you feel so nice. you could feel how hard he was, he wasn't even trying to hide the fact he was grinding against your ass. “i've been thinking about playing with you all day. been thinking ‘bout how good you look bouncing on my dick, how filthy the sounds you make are, how wet you get when i touch you.” a shudder ran down your spine, toji had such a way with making dirty things sound like romance.

he let go of your tits, pushing you down to lay across the bed. you could feel his finger slip under your thong, not bothering to even pull it off but settling for placing it off to the side. his hand felt so big as he gripped your ass, massaging it with a few slaps here and there that made you bite down on your lip to hold back any noises. toys don't make noises. you knew toji liked it when you sounded like a whining, sex driven, bimbo whose only purpose was to cum for him but you liked to have him earn those babbled sentences from you. it was the one little act of control he allowed you.

“god, i love the way your ass moves. im gunna fuck you until your body gives out, gunna have you nothing but a cum covered mess.” you could hear the smirk he wore, you could feel the thick hot dick that was rubbing against your ass, trails of precum being left in its path. “get on your knees and hold it open for me. let's see how wet you are, i bet you’re already leaking for me. such a good fucking girl.” and with a slap on your ass, you were on your knees, chest and face pressed against the mattress with your pussy on full display for him. your hands behind you doing exactly what he said to do. you groaned at the pressure, arching your back even more - desperate to be filled.

he hummed, inserting a finger inside of you. if you weren’t used to how ready your body always was for him, you would have a cringed at the wet sound it made, a few drops landing on the bed. toji always made you feel needy, your mind numb from arousal and thoughts only focusing on looking like a brainless cumslut for him. you wanted to please, you wanted to be good for him.

his finger curled inside of you, hitting the spot that made you let out a highpitched moan, your body slowly moving to fuck yourself on his finger. he laughed at the sight, pushing in two more fingers and starting to thrust and curl inside of you. you bit your lip, eyes rolling in the back of your hand as you started bouncing back on his fingers. “you’re fucking needy. they’re only my fingers, baby. ah, what can i expect from a fucking sex doll, huh? anything to get off right?” toji reached under you, pulling hard at your nipple.

god, your mind was fogged. desperate sounds of want coming out of your mouth, his name being repeated like a broken record. “yes daddy, more please. wanna feel you, wanna be full of your cum. please, pleas-“ he took his fingers out of you, slapping your ass before yanking you up by your hair and pulling you back to his chest. there was a smirk on his scarred lips as he shoved his fingers in your mouth, letting you taste yourself, you sucked on them desperately. staring up at him from under your eyelashes, you couldn’t help but feel so pleased you got to be fucked so good by him. nothing but a doll, nothing but the warmest hole for him to cum in.

toji grabbed your tit, leaning down to suck on the hardened nipple. his teeth grazing it as he teased a bite. your hand went down your stomach, trying to sneakily slip your fingers between yourself. he laughed at that, this time actually biting your nipple in warning. you moaned, hand leaving your stomach and going to grab at his hair. toji pulled back, taking his fingers out of your mouth and pushing you back down on the bed. “roll over. feet on the headboard.” and you listened, lifting your legs slowly over your head until they were touching the headboard, hands reaching down to spread your pussy open for him. he looked so fucking good, staring down at you with dark eyes, dick on full display - hard as he rubbed a hand over it before tapping it against your wetness, rubbing it over your clit over and over and ov-

“please fuck me. please make a mess of it, i want to cum on it while you’re inside. come on toji, stop teasing.” it was so evident he wanted to laugh but instead pulled back completely. leaving you whining and turning your hand over on the pillow. toji tilted his head, looking at you. “last i checked, toys don't talk. stop using your fucking mouth for talking. you’re prettier when you’re moaning and taking my dick.” were you feeling testy today? probably. toji hadn’t used you before he went to work like he usually did. it had been at least 30 hours since you had felt him inside of you. so you bit back, “please, please. just put it in.” you could see the change in his eyes as his hand shot up and wrapped around your throat.

“didn’t i say shut the fuck up?” he was so close to your face, hand so tight around your throat that your head was getting light. you felt scared, he liked it when you were scared. you gasped, trying to breathe as he leaned down to bite at your lip. he pushed back, letting you go as you gasped for air. was it bad that you were more wet now than ever? no, not at all. “you wanna be fucked so bad you’d disobey me?” his eyebrow was raised, a hand going up to run through his hair. was this a rhetorical question? did you have to say anything back?

you didn’t have too. because then he was ramming himself into you and then you were shouting at the force, tears coming into your eyes as he hit your cervix. “fuck,” his voice was breathy, deep, and from his chest as he continued to pound relentlessly into you. your eyes were glued to the bulge that appeared in your stomach with each thrust and his eyes were stuck staring at your face. “is this what you wanted?” he asked, leaning over you so that you were face to face. “wanted me to fuck you like the whore you are? look at you, you’re almost fucked out already.” his finger came up to wipe the drool that was on the corner of you mouth. you hadn’t even realized you were drooling, his dick just felt so fucking good. it was hitting every spot your fingers could never reach, your stomach felt full and your mouth seemed like it couldn't close as you stared at him stuck in pleasure as whine after whine came out of you.

he stared deep into your eyes, making the prettiest sentences out of the nastiest words as he thrusted into you: gonna make you eat the cum out of yourself, look at how your tits bounce when i fuck into you, fucking you so good you’re drooling on yourself. your lower stomach tightened, your legs starting to shake as you felt your orgasm begin to hit you. toji felt so good, so good, so good as he grinded down into you, his hand beginning to rub at your clit. “you gonna cum for me, baby? cum on daddys dick, come on come on.” he encouraged, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge and right when you got there, toji pulled completely back. he just pulled out of you and stopped massaging your clit but the noises you let out as your orgasm was ruined made it sound as if you were grieving. you felt yourself want to sob, hips twisting and head turning while toji laughed above you.

“you didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” you whined as he spoke, running your hands down your body as your hips grinded against nothing. toji grabbed your leg, turning you on your side and throwing your leg up over his shoulder. you looked up at him, his eyes were taking in every curve in your body, you poked out your ass a little, bringing your leg down and wiggled enough to be a tease. toji liked the shows you put on for him and you liked that you could make him turned on. he stroked his dick as he watched you grind down on nothing. “you’re such a fucking slut. you can’t even wait a few more seconds, fucking the air are we?” he slapped your ass, spreading you open so he could position himself while you impatiently pushed down towards him.

toji groaned as he eased slowly back in, grabbing the back of your knee and pushing your leg down on you as he started thrusting in you. for a second you thought you felt his dick pulsing inside of you and felt a warm sensation in your stomach again. the noises you were making must have been turning him on by the second, you sounded so helpless. so pathetic and needy, like if he stopped he was going to kill you. “you take it so well, such a good fucking hole for me. god, you look so filthy. whining and moaning, me fucking you senseless. you can't even make a sentence, beautiful. pathetic.” oh you loved him. you loved him, you never wanted this to stop - the pleasure, the pain, the way his nails digged into you.

you wanted to be as sultry and nasty for him as possible, grabbing your tits in your hands and beginning to suck on your nipple as you stared up at him. his hips stuttered, rhythm messing up and mouth going slack. “just like that baby, fuck.” his rhythm went back to normal, but his eyes were low and his grip was tight and he was rolling his hips and his words werent making sense and, “fuck you’re so tight, so fucking wet for daddy. my fucking hole, my bitch in heat,” your jaw went slack as he started massaging your clit, moans falling out your mouth as your massage at your tits, pinching and pulling at them as they bounced in your hands with each hard thrust. he was all but drilling into you, the headboard slamming against the wall - you kind of felt bad for your neighbors. its like his pace was getting more and more erratic, your stomach tightening and heating up once again. “i'm gonna cum, i'm gonna cum. daddy! please please, your dick feels so good. ah, im so wet for you fuck fuck fuck.” you were in such a state of pleasure, you fucking forgot you werent supposed to talk. toji didn't seem to mind, he was groaning and squeezing you hard enough to leave bruises.

the sounds of skin slapping skin, the headboard banging loudly, the squelching of each thrust and you all but screaming with pleasure was enough to send you overboard. your body tightening up as you squirted all over his stomach and screamed his name. toji kept massaging at your clit, helping you through your orgasm. “good job, baby. you left a mess all over daddy, fucking beautiful. i love when you cum for me, fuck.” your head was so light, the pleasure turning to overstimulation as he kept playing with you. you were sensitive, your mind telling you to stop but your body still grinding against his hand. you wanted it all, you wanted everything he could give you. desperate.

you knew he was close from how his moans got louder, how his thrusts became more and more forceful. “‘m gonna fill you full of my cum, breed you like the good little bitch you are. you feel so fucking good, such a desperate bitch. youre clamping down on me even after you came. you don’t want daddy to stop, huh? want me to fuck every little thought out of that head of yours?” and then you could feel the hot cum filling you up, you stayed still whining as toji fucked into you like you were just a fleshlight, just a toy for him to use - and you were. his and his only. toji leaned down slowly, kissing you with so much love, rubbing his hands over your sides. “you were such a good girl,” he said, pulling back to kiss over your neck, your shoulder, the top of your breast.

you knew toji loved you. he could have anyone and he wanted you. out there, you didn't know who he was but inside the apartment you shared he was a king. you would treat him as such. so when he pulled out and sat up right, saying clean me off. well, that's just what you did.

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Oh my God I'm such a twilight girlie you write him so good!!! Like I'm a blushing mess here giggling kicking feet the whole nine yards. Also making him thic is such a accurate power move 🤭🤤 one of these days I'd love to hear all your thoughts on the different 🍆 sizes for the links I just know it'd be glorious until then I shall devour all your writing repeatedly while imagining hot blondes (your four rut one is my absolute favorite I must confess)

Anon you flatter me!!

Hyrule: 4.9 inches. Now, before you come at me in the comments for making our fairy prince smaller than Four, hear me out: like I've said before, and continue to say, penis size is heavily affected by both genes and external factors, and even a slight discrepancy in either one can had mixed outcomes. 'But Fyre, we came here for sin, not a biology lesson!!', some of you may gripe, but I promise there's method to this madness. Ever since starting his first adventure at the ripe age of 9 or 10, Hyrule has been on constant alert because of 1) the literal cult trying to steal his blood to reincarnate a giant pig man and 2) the fact that his world is quite literally a wasteland with minimal food/tainted water/and all sorts of other nasty things. I can't even imagine the stress he was under during those frankly crucial developmental years, so it's highly likely that his body just... didn't fully develop due to a combination of him not getting enough to eat/drink and being on the run for most of his life (i.e lots of stress + probably a horrific sleep schedule). Moreover, both of these factors are what's known as endocrine disruptors, which can heavily affect mental and physical growth.

But now onto the dick-cannons: while he may not be the largest or thickest, I like to think Hyrule has a pretty good handle on what he's doing regardless*. Definitely not circumcised, considering his background (someone please tell him how to wash).

*(I once saw a headcannon that Hyrule probably used sex as a form of payment when things got tough, which I think is very underrated and absolutely true.)

Four: 5.5 inches. So I DEFINITELY did too much research on Four's, but I think y'all need to hear this. While I love the headcannon about Four's dick being 4 inches because his name is quite literally 'Four', I'm not sure anyone has tried to tackle this conundrum with his heritage in mind. Typically, penis size is influenced by parental genes, the person's own unique genes, and a combination of other external factors. For Four, we know for certain that he has Hylian parents, BUT he's also part Minish because of the events of Minish Cap. The Minish are typically described as anthropomorphic mouse people, so we can comfortably use mice as the basis for this genetic addition. Now, mice typically have a penis size of 10% of their body length (tip of nose to base of tail), which would concurrently put Four at 0.458333333 in feet, or 5.5 inches.

Dick-canons: probably circumcised. He's got the vibe of being pretty unassuming, but then he whips it out and everything suddenly makes sense. Balls* are on the bigger side (BREED), but no one's complaining.

*(Have you seen mice balls?? They're fucking [tee hee] massive. View at your own risk, but I couldn't have stopped the idea of Four like this if I tried. Yes yes I know this is a rat, but close enough!)

Wild: 5.6 inches. This one was probably the most difficult, because Wild's just... an average guy*. He doesn't have any non-Hylian transformations or crazy evolution history under his belt (tee tee), so all that really leaves is his height–which isn't a truly reliable measure of penile length, BUT we take what we can get in this blog–and background. It's somewhat implied that his father was a knight/someone who worked for the kingdom, which means he and Warriors were likely raised in very similar situations, though Wild's likely was a bit more stressful. For one, he pulled the Master Sword from its pedestal at the ripe old age of 12, and was immediately shipped off to guard Princess Zelda while she attempted to awaken her powers. While not as extreme as Hyrule's backstory, this is still a great deal of pressure for a child who arguably had a very peaceful life before finding the Master Sword, but I don't think he suffered any developmental conditions; even with the stress of finding out you're the Hero of Hyrule before you even finish puberty, it's reasonable to assume that Wild was physically cared for by the royal family, if only for the fact that his destiny was to defeat Ganon. Not just that, but there's the whole other issue of being stuck in a shrine for 100 years after dying; I'm no doctor, but that doesn't sound like favorable conditions for anyone. Obviously, the shrine heals him, but is that all it does? It's a well-known fact that water isn't good for skin**, especially considering he laid in it without moving for a century, so it's hard to imagine how his dick looked after the bath to end all baths.

Dick-canons: it glows– assuming he actually does have a penis, it's fairly average looking. Probably circumcised for military/cleanliness reasons, but he does have a very lovely vein running up the side of the shaft that always looks like it's about to pulse out of his dick. He should probably get that check out. Average sized balls, maybe a bit on the small side due to 100 years of cold water exposure.

*(I'm just going to come out and say this: all the Links are, at their core, average guys. Twilight was a goat herder. Time may or may not have been birthed by a tree and raised by tree people. Hyrule is just a simple traveler. Wind wasn't even chosen, he just wanted to save his sister. That's why they're so likable... they're not born special, or heroic, or anything. They're just dudes. Regular, selfless, boring, amazing dudes. Anyways enjoy the rest of my insanity.)

**(Is it wrinkly? Dried up? Completely and totally detached?? Laying in water for even a few days can cause severe medical complications, such as open sores, loss of skin elasticity, bacterial and fungal infections, and tissue decomposition. Cold water can temporarily slow the effects of decomposition because of adipocere formation, which is a phenomenon in which a waxy substance forms over the skin as a byproduct of fat decomposition, but not for 100 years. By this logic, Wild shouldn't be on this list because he shouldn't have a dick.)

Legend: 6 inches. Y'all already know where this is going. Unlike his successor, Legend didn't begin his first adventure until the age of 12, and lived a fairly stable life before hand thanks to his Uncle. This means that there likely wouldn't be too many developmental factors to worry about in determining the dick-cannons, so now we must turn to his rabbit-ifying encounter from his first adventure. I'm going to use the eastern cottontail rabbit (Sylvilagus floridanus) for this example because they're one of the most widely studied/available rabbit species. Now, cottontails typically reach 14-19 inches in length, but I'm going to go with 20 inches for Legend because he is CHONK, and also 20 is a lot easier to do math with. Keeping this in mind, WikiVet has informed me that rabbit penises can range from 20 to 45 mm in length. I'm going with 45 mm (4.5 inches) because he's a big boy and I also want him to have a big dick, so, when paired with the 20 inch body length, you'll find that approximately 8.86% of a rabbit's length is dick. Now that we know dick-to-body ratio, all that needs to be done is put that against Legend's height of 5'6", which leaves us with 5.8476 inches, but I added an extra 2 in to account for the fact that he is also hylian. It just feels right.

Dick-canons: Definitely a good choice if you're not sure what you want; bunny boy has many talents. Definitely has some breeder balls*, and I firmly believe he's curved just right for maximum pleasure. Probably circumcised because of his uncle, but he's secretly glad because it means he doesn't have to clean it like he would if he wasn't.

*(Yup, we're doing this again. Scientifically, rabbits have some of the highest sex drives of any animal, and are capable of breeding six hours after giving birth [WTF], which means this absolutely applies to Legend. He is never not down for a fuck.)

Sky: 6.3 inches. Prepare yourself because this one is very speculative. So, Sky was born on Skyloft, a set of islands in the sky. He was trained as a knight for most of his life and had a generally very peaceful life, so no endocrine disruptors or developmental discrepancies to worry about. Moreover, we know he started his journey at seventeen, which means he's at the tail-end of development. Now, instead of turning to some type of animal encounter, I'll turn to his Hylian heritage to answer this conundrum. I doubt there's anything out there with Skyloft's exact elevation, but it does appear to be a decent few thousand feet above the cloud barrier, which I've discovered are most likely altocumulus clouds, which typically form at an elevation between 6,000 to 20,000 feet. To calculate this, I watched a Skyward Sword gameplay video and determined that, in-game, it takes approximately 1:02.87 to reach the surface, and, assuming Sky/Link, is going at terminal velocity (the fastest an object can go while in motion, which happens to be 120 mph for belly-to-earth skydiving), this would put Skyloft at a roughly 7,544.4 foot elevation, which aligns with the altocumulus cloud prediction. There are only so many places on Earth that match such a high elevation, but I'm going to choose the Himalayas (which are inhabited by the Tibetan people, which are already known to have more capillaries and a more specialized hemoglobin function due to living in higher altitudes) as our comparer-region. Using this information, we can safely assume that Skyloftians, though fictional, who evolved in a very similar environment, may exhibit some similar traits to the modern-day Tibetan people.

While researching, I also discovered an incredibly interesting phenomenon called "airplane boners", which is a scientific occurrence where changes in pressure can cause erections (i.e. flying on a place), and decided that this would be perfect fuel for my scholarly degeneracy, which leads me to my next point: Sky has a big dick as an evolutionary response to what is colloquially known as the 'airplane boner'. Not convinced? Let me explain. When a penis is erect, arteries in the pelvic/penile region dilate to allow for greater blood flow, which thus increases the size of the penis itself. Now, imagine being at a high elevation for your whole life, surrounded by people whose ancestors have never lived anywhere else. I firmly believe that Skyloftians are well-endowed as an evolutionary response that allows the sustainment of larger blood vessels as a sort-of defense against high air pressure. Natural selection favors these traits because they ultimately lead to reproduction, which is the single-most important characteristic of evolution. 6.3 inches was a bit of an educated guess, but I believe that because the people of Skyloft evolved in a closed high-altitude ecosystem, it's entirely reasonable for Sky to be THICC because his body has a adapted to handle a greater hemoglobin factor and increased vascular capacity, likely in the penile region.

Dick-canons: due to the blood-vessel evolution, Sky's dick is likely thicker than average, with some very visible veins running up the sides; so many that it likely makes his dick appear incredibly flushed when erect. Contrary to what some of you may think, I don't think he has large balls, because it is likely more advantageous to have a smaller scrotum to combat the elements/conserve heat. So no breeder balls for him, but that doesn't mean he can't breed you just as good ;)

Twilight: 6.8 inches. I feel like this goes without saying, but he's a country boy. He's hung. Twilight grew up in Ordon, a close-knit community where everyone takes care of everyone, which means he most definitely had a very good childhood. Like some of the others, I see no reason to bring up developmental challenges due to being chased by a cult or some similar bullshit, so we're going to skip right to his transformation of a wolf at the beginning of his journey. Contrary to Legend and Four, I do not believe that this transformation affected him significantly in terms of penis appearance/size. Twilight was 17 when his adventure began, which means he already is at the end of physical development from a biological standpoint, and, in Linked Universe, his tattoos appear to be the only true physical mark on his hylian body, so it's safe to assume that we don't need to take this into consideration. Now, some of you may say: "Fyre, but your theories were so crazy for the other ones and now you're saying Twilight's hung because he's country??" Yes. Yes, I am saying that.

BUT.

There's a pretty solid theory running around that Twilight is a very small part Gerudo, due to Talon (Malon's father) having married/banged a Gerudo woman in secret. In LOZ, it's fairly obvious that the Gerudo are supposed to emulate modern-day Middle Eastern culture, which a study by the National Institute of Health states have an average penis length of 14.34, or 5.6 inches. Obviously, this is nowhere near 6.8, but this is also a race of mythical female warriors, so everything's a little skewed. However, in every iteration we see of the Gerudo, they're always tall, somewhat aggressive, and visibly muscled, which are all indicators of above-average levels of testosterone. This is highly important because, in addition to being required to build muscle mass, testosterone is heavily responsible for penis growth during puberty, meaning that Twilight could very well be the way he is because of this naturally-increased testosterone production (i.e why he's so visibly muscled compared to the other Links), plus an assumed more efficient vascular system due to his heritage. Adding on to this, Twilight likely already has booming levels of testosterone due to his very physical, very labor-intensive occupation as a rancher, plus the fact that he's in the prime of his life. In short, he's doing everything right: he eats well, works out, and has fairly decent emotional and mental health, all of which can be correlated with optimal penile development.

Dick-canons: Breeder balls to the MAX. All that extra testosterone has got to go somewhere, and it ain't his head. Fairly girthy, so prep is a necessity. Has one big vein right under the head that honest-to-god throbs when he's turned-on. Probably not circumcised because Ordon is fairly closed-off and I can't see them as being sticklers for that.

Warriors: 7 inches. While height isn't directly correlated with dick size, it is reasonable to assume that Warriors would be a bit higher on the list because of this, as well as his overall health in comparison to Hyrule and/or Legend. It's hinted that Warriors was raised in a very military-esque lifestyle, so it's not a surprise that he wouldn't have any true developmental setbacks in terns of penile length. Now, that doesn't mean we can't analyze the reasons why he's like this. Being raised in a militant environment means he was fed appropriately, participated in training regularly, and was likely taught stress-regulation habits (does he use them? no, but at least he knew them during his developmental years). Like Twilight, increased muscle mass is typically linked to elevated testosterone levels, and since Warriors has been training his whole life, it's reasonable to assume that these factors had a positive impact on his penile development. He and Twilight are very similar in this regard, except Twilight's size comes a bit more from favorable, wack genetics, though they both make sure to take care of themselves. However, Warriors is shown to be somewhat vain in Linked Universe canon (to the point that the other heroes have a running joke on it), which means it shouldn't be put past him to try more... under-the-table methods to ensue his 'perfection' reaches all aspects of his body, dick absolutely included. I'll leave it up to y'all on whether it's actual herbal/medical enhancements or sheer force of arrogance, but it's still a fun thought!

Dick-canons: Definitely circumcised (if not, definitely obsessed over keeping that shit squeaky clean). He's not as girthy as Twilight or Sky, but it'll definitely feel like he is from the way he wields it* during the deed. Doesn't have the biggest balls, but they'll definitely smack against any ass he can get his hands on.

*(There's a lot of speculation on whether Warriors is a manwhore or not, but I believe he's got experience. Definitely not in relationships, but one-night stands? Tavern hook-ups? He's done more of those than he's [un]willing to admit, but when it's someone he honestly, truly cares about? Slap a blush on him and call him a virgin, because he sure acts like it!)

Time: 7.3 inches. I saved the best for last. I want to preface this by saying that Time is HUGE, so obvious he's got to have a bitchbreaker in those britches, right? Right? Not exactly, because the version of Time we see in Linked Universe is the 'second' version; the one who got sent back in time by Zelda for Majora's Mask. This is HUGELY relevant because, honestly? Time likely took terrible care of himself over the course of Ocarina of Time, or at least somewhat neglected his needs in favor of completing his quest. Then, when he was sent back to being 12 years old in a new timeline by Zelda (Majora's Mask), you cannot convince me that he didn't have a major epiphany on how to actually take care of himself now that he was literally given another chance to get it right. He still trains, hard, but also knows his limits and, for the first time in his new life, he actually makes a point to start eating vegetables and drinking milk*, which give him all the essential nutrients to bridge the gap between surviving and living, especially during these crucial developmental years. Time genuinely makes an attempt to try. For himself, this time. And it pays off in the form of that fat-ass cock ;)

Dick-canons: a true bitchbreaker that will rail you six ways to Sunday. Not circumcised (bro was basically birthed by a tree), and definitely has breeder balls; he basically acts like he's in rut, and Twilight's got to get that trait from somewhere. Probably pretty veiny, like his hands (HNNNN), with just the slightest curve that'll have him hitting all the right spots.

*(Lon Lon milk all the way, my good readers.)

And, of course, I had to consult google:

[genderqueerdykes]

when i come out i usually find myself immediately trusting cis dudes more. because if they have a problem, ill know immediately and be able to cut that shit off. on the other hand, ive been "accepted" by cis women, only to have that acceptance taken away if i become too masculine , or theyll try steer me a more feminine direction while not directly saying anything. so then when i try to bring up issues its like "how dare you!!! im not a transphobe!!!"

that aint to say one group is more accepting than the other. for awhile i thought ciswomen were more accepting when actually i was a younger transguy who hadnt caught on yet. in my experience cis guys just immediately make it clear, and theres something about that that makes me feel a lot safer and not like im walking on eggshells. the cis women in my life who do support me are important and i love and appreciate them all, but there needs to me for conversations around more covert transphobia that even Allies can fall victim too

everyone is capable of being an asshole or shifting the goal posts and it's not okay for people to assume cis women can't do this. ive had a lot of cis women just constantly change the playing field and only accept me under certain conditions or if i performed manhood the way they wanted me to. i've had some cishet men do this too but honestly not very many. cishet men can be assholes but a lot of them are also just upfront and honest and it's a trait i'd rather appreciate

i'd rather someone just straight up tell me they don't want to associate without forcing me to guess or play mind games. i don't like when anyone of any gender does that. but i appreciate that a lot of the cishet men in my life have been very transparent about how they feel about interacting with me and i think its helpful as hell.

a lot of cishet men also just really do not give a fuck about queerness in a very productive way. as in "that doesn't pertain to me at all that's your business and i just want to be your friend. if you wanna tell me you can, but i'm not prying you for answers." i've had so many cishet guys treat me this way. most of my friends have been cishet guys and they've all been chill as hell about me being queer.

people need to accept that a gender doesn't make you evil, nor does it make you exempt from being called out for doing harm. thanks for sharing your experience, it deserves to be heard

[cainsau]

I loves your other soldier boy fic please make another one

Tech Savvy || The Boys Imagine

(Platonic) Soldier Boy x GN!Reader

Summary: To make communications easier, the team agreed to get Soldier Boy a smart phone. You were tasked to teach him how to use it.

Warning: none, just a bit of swearing and fun stuff

Author's Note: Thank you! I'm glad you loved it! I know its been a long while since you sent the request (forgive me, i've been busy😔), and this is a little short but i hope you also enjoy this one :]

Masterlist

"Alright, so, this is my phone number." You point to the screen where your phone number was listed on its contact list. "Every phone number is unique, and this one belongs to my phone. If you-"

"Yeah, yeah." Soldier Boy interrupts, rolling his eyes. "I know what a telephone number is. I'm not THAT old."

You chuckle playfully, then continue to explain what the symbols on the screen mean, and how to type using the touch screen, which he seems to struggle a little bit, considering how small the keyboard is compared to his fingers.

"Now, let's try it." You stand up from your seat, "I'm going to the next room, and you should text me."

"No, we don't need to do that."

"Yes. Yes, we do."

"I told you i got it. I'm not some idiot."

"If you truly get it, then you wouldn't mind if we try it out, then, right? Unless you can't do it and that's why you're avoiding to practice it." You give him a look.

"Fine."

You leave, and go to another room. As you sit down on a chair, a notification pops up. He successfully sent you a message.

SB: Bastard You: Wow thanks :) You: Try giving me a call now

You wait patiently. It takes a whole minute for him to remember where the call button is. Eventually, the notification pops up, and you answer the call.

"Congratulations!" You say to him through the phone. "I guess you're not as tech illiterate as i thought."

"Of fucking course, i know how telephones work. We had it too back then."

"Oh, really? How about you video call me right now then?" You challenge him with a grin, though he can't see it. If he really was listening to your explanation earlier, he should know how to do it too.

A while later, the video notification appears, and you accepted the request. The live feed of his face suddenly fills your screen.

"See? I told you, i'm not an idiot."

You nod in approval, giving him a playful frown, "Maybe i underestimated you."

"You fuckin' did. Now what?"

"End the call, and i'll go over there."

He doesn't say another word, and ends the call. You get up, heading back to the room he's in, and find him still in his seat.

"What else do you want?" He asks in annoyance.

"Oh, nothing. Just making sure that you have all our contacts." You go over to him and look through his contact list. "Also, do you have any questions?"

"No."

"Okay then," you give him the phone back, and turn around about to leave, "I'll see ya later."

"Wait." He stops you.

"Yes, my lovely student?"

"First, don't call me that." He cringes at you, which makes you laugh. "And second, i saw that Asian kid playing games on the phone. How can i do that?"

"Oh, just go to the app store. You can get some games and other stuff from there."

"The what?"

"The app store."

"Alright." He stands up and starts putting on his jacket. You watch as he heads towards the door.

Confused, you ask him, "Where are you going?"

"The app store."

[these-detestable-hands]

It's been a bit since I've interacted with octopath so my stuff on these ships may be a little rusty but I'll argue for them anyway.

Castitio (Castti x Partitio)

Before the game even came out, I thought they'd be a silly couple. Lady who doesn't remember and guy bursting at the seems with kindness. I think they're got a neat dynamic, with Castti teasing him a bit but they get along and are friends. Some post canon hcs I have are that Partitio would help Castti set up an organization that produces medicine and teaches about it cause he loves her and he's got the funding anyway. Also I do think being exposed to the poison rain twice did stuff to Castti so I like to hc she's disabled post canon, being a wheelchair user due to muscle weakness, having very little lung capacity and CPTSD. Also not a disability but she has eczema-like purple splotches on her body. Sorry I needed an excuse to quickly mention my disabled Castti headcanons. While they're engaged, Partitio and Floyd work on completely renovating a house to accommodate all of Castti's needs, so like low counters she can reach while on her wheelchair, only one floor, wide doorways, blackout curtains so she can sleep during the day, etc. Castti keeps insisting that she doesn't need that much help and that she's navigating normal houses just fine but then she'd see all the accommodations in their new house and bawl for hours. She'd work less and take it easy post canon. Listen I just think they'd be a really cute couple. Castti patches up your broken arm then her husband comes in and starts cracking jokes and talking about affordable public transportation. I feel like I'm also forgetting a lot of stuff but oh well. I've got a few fics for them posted on ao3, account name: BigOrangeOnion

Ophikari (Ophilia x Hikari) (I also call them The Radiance (hollow knight reference and it makes sense for an au))

OKAY SO this ship started out as an au when the ot1 travelers were added to ot2 for that update last year. Basically, post canon, Hikari visits the arena whenever he's in Montwise. This time, he goes and there's some omega powerful warriors fighting ruthlessly and with no concern for themselves. He realizes it's because they've got some kinda of curse, similar to him with the shadow (I THINK that's what it was called).

So Hikari starts working on figuring out how to free them because their current existence seems miserable. The first he manages to free is Ophilia, by using light magic near her. The light magic makes her briefly remember who she was but it's enough for her to snap out of the mind control that she's been put under. She talks to Hikari and explains that her and her friends were mind controlled by a very weak but not quite dead Galdera, in attempts to conquer and gain more power so he could heal himself faster. So the two of them start working on freeing the other travelers together.

Along the way, they ofc fall in love. I don't remember an awful lot about them unfortunately but I implore anyone reading this to write stuff for them :]

Here's a little drawing I did of them together. I'd include Castitio drawings if I had any but I am not big on drawing ship art unfortunately.

H'aanit x Cyrus x Castti (in a QPR!!! :3)

So this is probably the one I've explored the least purely because I never really shared it with anyone. I keep it to myself because of the amount of hyper specific and sad headcanons. But basically it was an au where I'd just mix and match travelers n stuff. Like just putting different travelers in different continents with weird team compositions cause I'm a big fan of aus and crossovers.

One of the ones I liked the most is where Castti leaves Solistia by herself to explore post canon because she's not very close with the other travelers and self isolates a little. This au starts out kinda sad cause of the focus on my hcs for various characters' mental illnesses. H'aanit is initially traveling alone but Castti joins her and they're a relatively quiet but very effective and productive duo. Later, Cyrus, Olberic, Primrose and Ophilia join. They all have their problems to work through and get through them together.

Castti has to deal with self worth and realizing that she's more than just the team healer.

H'aanit has always had anxiety around losing Z'aanta, which is really bad throughout the entire story so Castti often ends up calming her down during panic attacks and they get really close because of the mutual trust there.

Idk exactly how to describe Cyrus' problems but he's really jumpy and nervous and a little bit angry all the time because of being accused of, y' know, sleeping with a student. Yeah no I never understood why Cyrus wasn't that angry about it, even when I first played the game at age 10.

I think Cyrus is just dealing with the new found rage he constantly has. He had anger management issues as a kid but worked through them and they're just now coming back cause he's been thrown out of his home and people he used to be friends with think the worst of him and he's got no one but this new friend group he hardly knows. You get it.

The story is the three of them (and Olberic, Ophilia and Prim, but this post is about ships so I'll talk about them another time) as they deal with their mental health issues. Through helping each other with these very personal problems, they become very close and eventually decide to be in a qpr together. I think they'd just live relatively quiet lives in S'warkii cause Cyrus is too upset to return to Atlasdam and Castti isn't too keen on going back to Solistia after falling head over heels in love with two people in Osterra.

I don't remember way too much for this au unfortunately. I think they should all cuddle and finally get a good night's sleep for once cause no way a single one of those bitches sleeps well with the crap they see and have experienced.

Sorry I wrote so much. Here is a little drawing based on an Olberic chapter 2 travel banter and the most important H'aanit fact.

I miss octopath yapping with people so uh yknow what! We’re gonna play a game!!

Explain in the notes what y’all’s favorite ships are and why you like them!!!

Only rules are

1) do not explain why everyone should think your ship is canon, as that is not the point of this post 2) do not put any other ships down bc that is also not the point of this post 3) ALL games are included (yes including cotc) 4) ANY SHIPS ARE ALLOWED!!! GO NUTS!!!!

[edenesth]

03. The Enforcer — By Order of the Black Pirates

An 'Ice On My Teeth' Comeback Special Series

Pairing: gang member!Yunho x fem!reader

AU: gang au

Word Count: 22.7k

Summary: The towering enforcer of the Black Pirates, both disarming and deadly—his easy charm capable of winning over enemies, while his legendary fury dominates the battlefield. But his unbreakable facade begins to crack when he meets a psychologist during a mission—someone who can see through his carefully crafted mask, just as he can see through hers. Beneath her confident exterior lies a frightened soul lost in a dark world, and for the first time, he finds himself compelled to protect someone in a way he never expected.

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Trigger Warnings: mentions of child abuse, emotional blackmail, attempted sexual assault, scars, trafficking, blood and slight gore, language, contains dark themes in general

SERIES MASTERLIST | ATEEZ MASTERLIST

"Ryoichi Sato," Hongjoong murmured, studying the profile in his hands. "Founder of the Prestige Asylum—a supposed haven for the mentally ill. And you're telling me targeting him will benefit us... how exactly?"

Yunho gestured for him to turn to the next page. "Take a closer look, hyung. Do you notice a pattern in the patients he takes in?"

The Captain flipped through the thick file, his brows furrowing. Then, slowly, he straightened in his seat, his expression hardening. "They're... holy shit. They're all high-profile criminals. Wait—this isn't just a regular asylum, is it?" He looked up sharply at his brother, who wore a smug smile.

"Exactly," Yunho said, his tone calm but charged with conviction. "It's a front—a sanctuary for wealthy criminals. Cartel bosses, human trafficking kingpins, and, most importantly, rival gang leaders. All hiding out under the guise of being mentally unfit to face trial. And guess who's running the whole operation? A corrupt, retired official." He leaned forward, his voice lowering. "Now imagine the rise in our standing if we take these fools down and expose them. The Black Pirates would dominate the underworld again."

For a moment, Hongjoong stared at the Enforcer, his jaw slightly slack in astonishment. While their gang still held a prominent position at the top, he couldn't deny that their recent missteps had affected their reputation in the mafia world. Yunho's plan was undeniably tempting—a chance to reclaim their dominance.

But reality soon intruded, and his expression hardened. Seonghwa's precarious situation with the Red Room loomed large, the weight of unresolved tensions pressing heavily on his mind. Could they really afford to take on such a massive mission right now?

"I'm sure it all sounds good, Yunho," he began cautiously, "but—"

"Hyung, I know what you're thinking," the taller man cut in, raising a second file. "But I've already thought this through. You'll see here that Yeosang and I have everything planned out. Listen, I know things haven't exactly been smooth for us lately, but think about it—who are we? We're the Black fucking Pirates. It's time we reminded the underworld who runs this game."

The leader glanced at the new file, then back at Yunho. For a moment, hesitation flickered in his eyes, but it was quickly overtaken by a glimmer of determination. Whatever obstacles lay ahead, Yunho's unwavering confidence was infectious, and the prospect of restoring their gang's power was too enticing to ignore.

"Yeah, you're right. Let's do it."

With that, he pushed thoughts of his eldest brother's precarious situation to the back of his mind. The Captain had given him the green light, and now it was time to execute. With Yeosang's meticulous planning and Jongho's steady hand in logistics, the groundwork had been laid faster than even he anticipated.

Now, dressed in a sharp suit and carrying an air of unshakable authority, Yunho strode into the Prestige Asylum under the alias Stefano Lee, a "security consultant" hired to assess the facility's operations. From the moment he stepped through the doors, his towering presence commanded attention. Unease rippled through the staff; the occasional nervous glance cast his way only fed his confidence. Awe wasn't uncommon, either—not that it surprised him. The Enforcer knew the effect he had on people.

His steps echoed purposefully through the pristine halls, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. He allowed himself a moment of smug satisfaction, recalling how effortlessly he had sold his cover. If life had gone differently, he may have ended up on a movie set, playing the leading man. But fate had dealt him a different hand—a far grittier role to play.

And that was fine. He owed everything to Hongjoong, the man who had saved him from a life of aimless wandering. This mission wasn't just about taking down the asylum or the criminals it sheltered—it was about proving himself again, reminding the underworld of what the Black Pirates could do when they set their sights on a target.

His lips tugged into a small, confident smirk as his gaze locked onto the man he'd been waiting for. Dr Sergei Ivanov, head psychologist, walked with a cautious air that betrayed a sharp mind. He had spent days studying the asylum's organisational structure, and Ivanov's name stood out like a beacon. The man was vital, a potential key to cracking open this entire operation.

For Yunho, the next step was clear: bring the head psychologist to his side, whether through persuasion or pressure. The poor old Russian man would learn quickly—resistance wasn't an option.

Straightening his tie, he approached with the confidence of someone who already owned the room. His posture, his stride, even the slight tilt of his head—all radiated an unspoken message: You're going to listen to me, whether you like it or not.

"Dr Ivanov," he called smoothly, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade. "Stefano Lee. I believe we need to have a conversation."

His tone wasn't a question; it was a declaration. Time to get to work.

From across the hall, you stood unnoticed, your gaze fixed on the interaction unfolding between your mentor and the so-called security consultant. Stefano Lee—the name had been whispered through every corner of the asylum ever since Chairman Sato announced his arrival. The founder himself had vouched for the man, boasting of his unparalleled expertise and magnetic charm.

But you'd been wary of him from the start.

Unlike the rest of the staff, who either fawned over his imposing presence or shrank under the weight of it, you felt neither awe nor intimidation. What you felt was a nagging sense of scepticism.

Stefano was too polished, his every move carefully calculated. The way he carried himself screamed confidence, sure—but in his eyes, there was something far more telling. A spark of determination that went beyond professionalism. It wasn't the kind of fire you'd expect from someone hired to conduct a mundane security assessment.

This man had an agenda.

You had written it off as mere curiosity at first, content to watch him from afar and let others fall under his spell. But now? Watching him pull Dr Ivanov aside with that charming yet no-nonsense demeanour? That was when the alarm bells went off.

He was a security consultant, for heaven's sake. What possible business could he have with the head psychologist?

Your eyes narrowed, tracking their movements as he gestured toward a side corridor. Dr Ivanov's reluctance was clear in the stiffness of his shoulders, though he followed without protest.

Something wasn't right.

The uneasy twist in your gut only tightened as you lingered, debating whether to intervene. There was no reason for you to care—not when you were already walking a thin line just by being here. But Dr Ivanov wasn't just your mentor; he was one of the few people in this institution who still had a shred of integrity left.

And Stefano Lee? He was the very embodiment of the polished predators you had learned to recognise far too well.

Your fists clenched at your sides as you made your decision. If this man thought he could play his games unnoticed, he was sorely mistaken.

You weren't about to sit back and watch.

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"Mr. Lee, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Dr Ivanov asked, his tone polite but cautious. He wore a civil smile, though the tension in his eyes betrayed the wariness beneath it.

Yunho settled into the chair across from him, his tall frame making the neat, utilitarian office seem smaller than it was. His eyes swept the room with the precision of someone who missed nothing. Sparse decor. Everything is meticulously arranged. Not a single photo or personal touch to suggest any life outside of this institution.

Work, and only work.

It was a treasure trove of deductions for the Enforcer. The absence of familial ties or sentimental keepsakes hinted at a man whose entire identity revolved around his profession. A loner, perhaps. Someone who found solace in control and order. That told the gang member all he needed to know about how to handle him.

"Ah, Dr Ivanov," Yunho said smoothly, leaning back in the chair with an air of casual confidence. "You know how thorough Chairman Sato likes to be. My job is to ensure this facility operates as securely and efficiently as possible. Cooperation from department heads like yourself will make that infinitely easier."

His tone was light, almost friendly, but his eyes carried a weight that made the head psychologist pause.

Dr Ivanov let out a small, dry chuckle, clasping his hands together on the desk. "A man dedicated to his work is always admirable, Mr. Lee. But I must admit, I fail to see how my department could have any bearing on your assessments. Surely the realm of psychology is far removed from the concerns of security?"

The scepticism was clear, though the Russian man hid it behind a veneer of civility. He was testing Yunho, trying to gauge his intent.

The taller man's lips curled into a faint smile—charming yet predatory, as if he were indulging the doctor in a harmless game of wits. "You'd be surprised, Doctor, how much overlap there can be. Security isn't just about locks and cameras. It's about people. Predicting their behaviour. Understanding their motivations."

He leaned forward slightly, his broad shoulders casting a shadow over the desk. "And from what I've gathered, you're the expert when it comes to the minds within these walls. Both staff and patients alike."

The head psychologist's smile faltered, if only for a moment before he recovered. "Flattery, Mr. Lee? I didn't take you for the type."

"Not flattery," Yunho countered, his tone hardening just enough to make his point. "Respect. The kind of respect one gives to someone with insight others might not possess. Insight that could be… very useful."

The silence that followed was heavy, the tension in the air almost tangible. The Enforcer let it hang there, his eyes locked onto Dr Ivanov's with a focus that bordered on unnerving.

"Now, Doctor," he continued, his voice dropping an octave, smooth but with an undercurrent of steel, "why don't we make this easy for both of us? I have questions, and you have answers. All I need is your cooperation. After all, it's in both our interests to ensure this institution remains… secure."

The elderly man's fingers twitched against the desk, his composure cracking ever so slightly under Yunho's gaze. He wasn't sure what game this so-called consultant was playing, but he could feel the noose tightening around him, one carefully calculated word at a time.

He adjusted his posture, his fingers steepling as he studied the man before him, his professional mask unwavering. "Mr. Lee," he began carefully, each word deliberate, "I appreciate your regard for my expertise. But forgive me if I fail to see how the psychology department intersects with your security evaluation. Perhaps if you were more forthcoming about your... intentions, I could provide better assistance."

The Enforcer leaned back in his chair, the movement slow, deliberate, and dripping with confidence, as though he owned not just the office but the very air in it. A faint smirk tugged at his lips, sharp as a knife's edge. "Intentions?" he echoed, his voice smooth, almost playful. "Doctor, my only intention is to make sure this place runs as securely as the Chairman expects. Isn't that why I'm here?"

"Of course," Ivanov replied, though the faint crack in his measured tone betrayed him. "But from my perspective, our patients and their care protocols seem far removed from your area of concern. Surely there are other departments better suited to your inquiries—maintenance, perhaps, or surveillance?"

Yunho's smirk widened, but the amusement in his expression didn't quite reach his eyes. "Oh, I've already had enlightening conversations with those departments," he said, his tone laced with charm and a trace of menace. "Very helpful people, really. But here's the thing, Doctor." He leaned forward, his massive frame casting an imposing shadow across the desk as he clasped his hands loosely. "In a place like this, the locks on the doors are only half the battle. The minds inside—those matter just as much. Don't you agree?"

The head psychologist's lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowing slightly at the repeated emphasis. "I would agree," he admitted cautiously, "but that still doesn't explain—"

"Doesn't explain what?" Yunho cut in smoothly, his voice dropping a note lower, the quiet intensity in it demanding attention. "Why I'd care about the dynamics between staff and patients? Why I'd want to understand how the people here interact with each other?" His smile returned, this time sharper, more calculated. "Doctor, wouldn't you say that understanding human behaviour is key to preventing... incidents?"

Ivanov's fingers tightened around the desk's edge, the slight movement not escaping Yunho's notice. "Naturally," the head psychologist replied, his tone measured, though unease flickered in his eyes. "But if you're implying there's something amiss with the dynamics here, I assure you—"

"I'm not implying anything," Yunho interrupted, his tone softening, though the tension in the room only grew. "I'm just a curious man doing his job. After all, the Chairman hired me to be thorough." He let his gaze drift across the sparse, clinical office before settling back on the elderly man with laser-like focus. "And I am thorough."

Dr Sergei Ivanov, seasoned in dissecting minds, found himself at a rare loss. The man before him was an enigma—a puzzle that refused to align. Something about Stefano Lee spoke of a purpose that went far beyond his supposed role. Who was this man? A mere consultant, or something much more dangerous?

The silence that followed hung thick and oppressive. Ivanov exhaled slowly, forcing himself to meet Yunho's gaze. "You certainly live up to your reputation, Mr. Lee," he said finally, his voice steady but cautious. "I see why the Chairman holds you in such high regard."

The young man chuckled, low and unsettling. "Flattery, Doctor? I didn't peg you for the type."

The psychologist's jaw tightened at having his own words thrown back at him, but he managed a thin smile. "Simply acknowledging skill where it's due. Though I must admit, your methods of information-gathering are... unique."

"It's all about perspective," Yunho replied as he stood, his deliberate movements amplifying his towering presence. "And from where I'm standing, I'd say we're off to a good start, wouldn't you?"

Dr Ivanov didn't respond immediately, his mind racing to piece together the enigma in front of him. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a sharp knock shattered the tension, and the door swung open without waiting for an answer.

"Then I'm sure Chairman Sato would be thrilled to hear about this collaboration." Your casual tone hung in the air like a threat, and for the first time, the Enforcer's composure faltered ever so slightly. The mention of Ryoichi Sato was a card played with precision—a warning that if his intentions were exposed now, it could bring his mission to a grinding halt.

You strode in briskly, a file clutched in one hand, your eyes fixed solely on your mentor as though Stefano Lee were little more than a shadow. "Sir," you said crisply, your earlier veiled threat delivered as if it were a passing remark, "you're needed in the PICU ward. A patient is threatening suicide."

The head psychologist shot to his feet, hastily snatching the file from your hand. His gaze darted toward the gang member, unease flickering in his expression. "I-I..."

You finally turned your attention to the so-called security consultant, your expression unreadable as you placed a reassuring hand on Dr Ivanov's arm. "It's alright, sir. You go. I'll handle Mr. Lee."

"But—"

"There's no time to waste," you interjected, your voice calm yet unyielding. "Go."

Your mentor hesitated for a moment longer, then nodded reluctantly. He cast the guest a wary glance, his polite facade barely holding. "Mr. Lee," he said, forcing a tight smile, "thank you for your understanding."

Yunho inclined his head, his smile returning with practised ease as he buried any trace of unease. "The pleasure's all mine, Doctor."

With one final look, the Russian man hurried out of the office, leaving the room thick with unspoken tension as the door clicked shut behind him. Now, it was just you and Stefano Lee, his enigmatic facade meeting your calculated indifference.

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"Since you're so keen on understanding how our department operates, let me show you the patients' favourite spot," you said, your tone laced with thinly veiled sarcasm as you led him down the verdant pathways of the institution. The tension between you hung heavy in the air as the distant sound of rustling leaves mingled with the faint hum of the asylum's ever-present security systems.

The path opened into a pristine stretch of green, encircled by neatly maintained fences.

"The tennis courts?" Yunho asked, his brow arching, an edge of disbelief creeping into his voice.

You turned sharply on your heel, your piercing glare locking onto him. "Why so surprised? I thought you knew everything there is to know around here. Or…" You paused, your voice dropping into a sly mockery. "Let me guess. Maybe your research wasn't as extensive as you thought. There's a lot more to this place than meets the eye, Stefano Lee… or whatever your real name is."

He froze for a moment, the faintest flicker of surprise breaking through his carefully constructed mask. You could see the gears in his head turning, his sharp mind trying to recalibrate. But for once, it seemed, he had no immediate retort.

The Enforcer straightened, forcing a grin that was too sharp, too deliberate. "Of course, that's my real name. And you're right—maybe I should have done a better job researching my client. But I know enough about you, at least," he said, eyeing your name tag.

"Do you?" you countered instantly, one brow arching in amusement. "So you know my name. Big deal. That's basic information."

Yunho leaned back slightly, shoving his hands into his pockets in a transparent attempt to feign control. But the tension in his posture betrayed him. "I know you have a love-hate relationship with your job, Dr Prude."

There it was. That name. The one whispered behind your back by the staff who envied your success, your precision, your unapologetic ambition. It stung—because it was meant to. But you'd heard it all before. And now this stranger was trying to weaponise it against you.

"Is that all?" you asked, your voice cool and sharp like a blade. "So you know the playground gossip. Congratulations. But let me make something perfectly clear, Stefano"—you spat his name with venom—"you don't scare me."

Your words hit like a slap, and his grin faltered for the briefest moment. He was losing his footing, and you could see the frustration creeping into his eyes, no matter how hard he tried to suppress it.

"You are right about one thing, though," you continued, taking a deliberate step closer. "I do have a love-hate relationship with this job. Which is why I don't care what you're really here for. Just leave me and my mentor out of it."

He scoffed, the sound laced with disbelief. "I don't know what you mean by that. I'm only here to do my job—"

You snorted, cutting him off without hesitation. "Save the act. Do you really expect me to believe intimidating the head psychologist is part of your job description?"

The sharpness of your words sent a flicker of unease across his face, and for a moment, he seemed to lose his usual composure. You followed his gaze as it shifted—almost involuntarily—toward the tennis courts.

Your smirk widened as your eyes zeroed in on the figure lingering near the edge of the court. Clad in staff attire, the man moved with calculated casualness, but it was clear he was out of place.

"And your not-so-subtle friend over there?" you added, nodding toward Yeosang, whose attempts to blend in were painfully obvious. "He tells me more than enough about you."

His jaw tightened, his calm slipping as the realisation sank in—you'd not only seen through him but had also spotted his ally.

He shot a sharp look toward his brother, who froze, his alert eyes locking onto you. The Phantom, clearly aware his cover had been blown, remained rigid as Yunho gave a subtle shake of his head, signalling him to stand down.

The silence stretched, thick with tension, as he turned back to you. His usual confidence was cracking, the weight of your words pressing down on him like a vice.

You could see it—the frustration, the disbelief, the dawning understanding that he'd underestimated you. And it was exhilarating.

Fuck, I really underestimated her.

You sighed, observing the flicker of tension in the man's expression. Despite his best efforts to maintain an air of indifference, you could see the turmoil beneath the surface—the faint crease in his brow, the subtle tightening of his jaw. For a fleeting moment, you almost felt bad for him. Almost.

It was clear that whatever grand plans he had were now in shambles, and you were entirely to blame.

"Listen, I—" he began, his voice low, tinged with exasperation, but you raised a hand, cutting him off before he could say more.

"No," you said firmly, your tone leaving no room for argument. "You don't have to explain yourself to me. You don't owe me anything. But…" You allowed a sly smile to curl your lips as you glanced toward the Phantom, who still stood frozen by the tennis courts, visibly tense. "You might owe your buddy an apology for this failure."

Yunho followed your gaze, his lips pressing into a thin line as Yeosang subtly shifted his weight, clearly displeased at their mission running into such a huge error this early on.

You turned back to the taller man, tilting your head slightly as you regarded him with curiosity. Who were these men? What organisation were they from? You didn't need to be a genius to figure out they weren't who they claimed to be. Yunho might have come here under the guise of a security consultant, but his polished act was starting to crack under scrutiny.

Not that it mattered to you. You weren't particularly interested in who they were or why they were here. If anything, you'd be amused to see them succeed. The Chairman was nowhere near a saint, and if these strangers were here to exact some kind of revenge or justice, well… you wouldn't shed a tear.

Still, you knew better than to get involved.

"I don't know what you have planned," you continued, your voice softening just slightly, "but don't worry. I won't tell anyone about this."

His brows furrowed, his confusion evident as you took a step closer, lowering your voice. "Just stay out of my way, and Dr Ivanov's, and we'll stay out of yours. Deal?"

For a long moment, the two of you stood in silence, the weight of your words hanging heavily between you. Then, with a faint smirk, you bowed your head slightly—a gesture more mocking than respectful.

"Best of luck, Stefano," you added, your tone carrying a finality that left no room for further discussion. Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked away, your confident strides kicking up the faintest swirl of dust from the gravel path.

He remained rooted to the spot, watching your retreating figure with a mix of frustration and something he couldn't quite place—admiration? Awe?

In all his years as a member of the Black Pirates, he'd never encountered anyone who could unsettle him quite like you had. His mind raced, replaying every moment of the exchange, trying to pinpoint where he'd lost control.

Damn it.

The intelligence expert of the gang approached cautiously, his usual calm demeanour marred by a hint of irritation. "She figured us out already—how? What did you do?"

Yunho's jaw tightened at the accusation, his gaze snapping to meet his brother's. The cold sharpness in his eyes made it clear he didn't appreciate the insinuation. "I didn't do anything outside the plan. It was her... she happened. We underestimated her," he muttered, though his tone carried an odd lack of animosity when it came to you.

"Great... so what now?" Yeosang asked quietly, his eyes darting toward the path where you had disappeared, his unease evident.

The taller man exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. "Now?" he repeated, a faint, almost self-deprecating smirk pulling at his lips. "Now we regroup."

But even as he spoke, he couldn't shake the impact you'd left on him. For all his meticulous planning, you'd proven to be a wild card he hadn't accounted for—a reminder that even the sharpest strategies could falter when faced with an unpredictable force.

Yeosang nodded reluctantly and led Yunho toward a secluded area away from prying eyes. His voice dropped to a whisper. "She knows we're not who we claim to be. I say we deal with her before she gets in the way."

Yunho frowned deeply, shaking his head. "Are you insane? She's the deputy head psychologist. If something happens to her, especially right after being seen with me, it'll raise every red flag imaginable."

"So what, we're just gonna let her roam around freely, knowing full well we're here to take down her boss?" the Phantom growled under his breath, his frustration simmering beneath the surface.

"She won't say anything," Yunho replied with a certainty that only seemed to irritate Yeosang further.

"Oh, yeah? And how exactly do you know that?"

Yunho closed his eyes briefly, the memory of your calm, pointed words flashing in his mind. "Because she told me so," he said simply.

His brother let out a sharp scoff. "And you believe her? She's a damn shrink, my friend. Those types know exactly how to mess with your head—get under your skin and twist the truth until you don't know what's real anymore."

The taller man's eyes snapped open, his voice cutting through Yeosang's scepticism with an uncharacteristic sharpness. "I'm not an idiot, Yeo. I know how to spot a lie, and she wasn't lying. She may be loyal to Ivanov, but she's not loyal to this place."

Yeosang's frown deepened, his jaw clenching as he weighed Yunho's words. "Well, for our sake, I hope you're right," he muttered darkly. "Because if you're not, we're fucked."

Yunho didn't respond, his mind already turning over the possibilities. Deep down, he knew Yeosang wasn't wrong to be cautious, but he also couldn't ignore the strange certainty that had settled in his gut. You weren't their ally, but for now, you weren't their enemy either. And that was a risk he was willing to take.

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"Hyung, permission to switch targets."

The words seemed to hang in the air as Yeosang's irritation with the situation persisted. "Switch targets?"

The Captain, who had been listening in silence, finally spoke, his voice calm but sharp. "Let me guess, Yunho—you want to collaborate with the deputy head psychologist now?"

The Enforcer nodded, his gaze steady even as he bowed his head slightly, ashamed of his failure. Hongjoong's lips pursed, his expression unreadable, but he didn't speak right away.

Jongho, who had been sitting quietly nearby, leaned forward slightly, his thoughtful gaze fixed on Yunho. "You know what? That actually makes a lot of sense," he said, his voice calm and measured. "Based on what you said, she's incredibly observant and perceptive. Just the fact that she managed to see through you and spot Yeosang hyung, despite all our precautions, speaks volumes about her. If there's anyone on the inside who could be an asset, it's her."

The faintest hint of a smirk tugged at Yunho's lips at the youngest's words. He agreed wholeheartedly—you were something else.

Hongjoong sighed deeply, running a hand over his face as he considered the implications. "If we're going to shift our approach, I want this done carefully. No risks we can't manage." His voice dropped slightly, tension seeping into his words. "We're already stretched thin with Seonghwa still stranded at the Red Room. I don't want another loose thread to worry about."

Yunho nodded, his voice firm. "I'll handle it, hyung. She won't be a problem."

The gang leader's sharp gaze fixed on him. "Go ahead, then. Do what you think is best, but if this backfires, it's on you."

"Understood."

Yeosang let out an exasperated breath, his frustration was evident. "You're really putting a lot of faith in someone who works for the Chairman. Just because she hasn't blown our cover yet doesn't mean she's not a threat."

"She hasn't blown it because she doesn't want to," the Enforcer countered, his tone unyielding. "Again, she's not loyal to Ryoichi Sato—we've been over this already."

The Anchor nodded, his thoughtful expression unwavering. "If she's really disillusioned with this place, that gives us leverage. She could be the key to understanding the Chairman's weaknesses."

Hongjoong sighed again, rubbing his temples. "Fine," he said finally, his tone resigned but firm. "Do it. But tread carefully. The moment she becomes a liability, you pull out. Clear?"

"Crystal," Yunho replied without hesitation.

The leader's gaze softened just slightly, enough to show the trust he still had in his team. "Good. Now go before I change my mind."

As Yunho left the room, a faint smirk playing on his lips, Yeosang shook his head in disbelief. "This is a mistake," he muttered.

"Maybe," Hongjoong admitted, his voice measured. "But mistakes can lead to victories if you know how to play them."

"Or they can get us all killed," Yeosang muttered under his breath.

Jongho offered a faint smile. "Let's hope Yunho hyung's instincts are as sharp as he thinks they are." The room fell silent, the weight of their gamble settling heavily over them all.

The Enforcer adjusted the cuffs of his tailored coat as he stood outside the towering gates of Prestige Asylum. This time, he was alone. Yeosang had made it clear he wouldn't tag along—not because he didn't care but because watching his brother navigate the intricate dance of persuasion with you had proven too frustrating for the Phantom. Yunho didn't blame him; even he wasn't entirely sure what to expect from you.

The mansion had been tense that morning, Yeosang offering only a curt nod and a muttered "good luck" as Yunho prepared to leave. It wasn't that he didn't want this to work; in fact, Yeosang probably wanted success more than anyone else. But his scepticism about you was evident. Yunho could almost hear the Phantom's voice in his head as he walked up the familiar path leading to the asylum: Don't mess this up. Don't let her outplay you again.

Yunho smirked at the thought, his confidence unshaken. She won't outplay me. Not this time.

Inside the asylum, the sterile halls felt even quieter than before, as if the oppressive atmosphere itself could sense the weight of his intentions. He stopped at the front desk, his smooth charm carefully masking the tension simmering beneath his calm exterior. "I'm here to see the deputy head psychologist," he said with a polite smile.

The receptionist glanced up, a flicker of hesitation crossing her face. "Mr. Lee?" she asked, her tone cautious. She suppressed her reservations, silently questioning what the new security consultant could possibly want with Dr Prude. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No," Yunho replied smoothly, his tone calm yet firm, "but I believe she'll want to see me."

The receptionist hesitated briefly before picking up the phone. After a quiet exchange, she looked back at him and nodded. "She'll meet you in her office. Down the hall, third door on the left."

As he made his way, his mind replayed the events of your last encounter—a potent mix of frustration and admiration swirling within him. You had dismantled his plan with precision, exposing cracks he hadn't even considered, and yet it wasn't just your brilliance that lingered in his mind. It was the fire in your eyes, the unyielding confidence that matched his own, if not exceeded it.

He knocked twice before opening the door.

You sat at your desk, head tilted slightly as you scribbled notes into a file. For a moment, you didn't acknowledge him, but when your sharp gaze finally met his, the tension between you crackled, unspoken yet palpable. Neither of you was willing to back down.

"Back so soon, Stefano?" you asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "I thought you'd had enough of me last time."

He chuckled softly, closing the door behind him. "Believe it or not, I'm not here for round two of our verbal sparring match." His voice dipped slightly, deliberate and measured. "I'm here to make you an offer."

You leaned back in your chair, raising an eyebrow as if to say, This should be good. "An offer? What could someone like you possibly offer me?"

"A way out," he said simply, his confidence unwavering.

Your reaction was subtle but telling—a faint twitch of your brow, a brief stilling of your fingers as they tapped against the desk. "And what makes you think I need a way out?" you countered, your voice steady and cool.

"Because you're too smart to waste your talents here," he said, his tone softening, almost conspiratorial. "You know this place is rotten to its core. You've seen Ryoichi Sato's true nature. Why stay loyal to an institution that doesn't deserve you?"

You folded your arms, your expression inscrutable. "So, your grand plan is for me to betray my employer and join forces with… whoever you really are?"

He stepped closer, his intense gaze locking with yours, shrinking the space between you. "I'm not asking you to betray anyone. I'm asking you to work with us. Help us take down the Chairman, and in return, we'll make sure you come out of this unscathed."

You tilted your head, studying him as if weighing every word. "And why should I trust you? You're not exactly the picture of transparency."

He smirked, leaning casually against the edge of your desk. "You don't have to trust me. Trust your instincts. You've already figured out I'm not here to hurt you or Ivanov. If anything, we're on the same side."

The room grew quiet as you considered his words, the sharp gears of your mind undoubtedly working overtime. Finally, you leaned forward slightly, your voice laced with pointed sarcasm. "Huh, sounds tempting. It might be tempting for someone reckless enough to commit treason, that is. But here's the part where you're wrong—I have no intention of risking my life for your ambitious little plan. After all, if you were as confident as you pretend to be, you wouldn't need me. Thanks, but no thanks."

The rejection landed sharper than Yunho anticipated, and though he cursed internally, a part of him couldn't help but admire your resistance. "I understand your concerns," he said, his voice calm despite the undercurrent of frustration.

"You don't understand anything, Stefano," you snapped, cutting him off with a sharp edge in your tone. Your eyes burned with something deeper—an unspoken burden he wasn't privy to but knew he needed to uncover. Why were you so adamant against cooperating, especially when your loyalty to the Chairman seemed nonexistent?

"Fine," he conceded, raising his hands slightly in mock surrender. "I won't argue with you. But think about what I said. The offer won't stay on the table forever."

You narrowed your eyes at him, but there was a spark of intrigue you couldn't completely hide. "I already said no. You can take your offer elsewhere."

Straightening, the Enforcer's smirk returned, slow and deliberate. "You know damn well there's not many in this damned institution I can rely on like you. Don't be so hasty to turn me down—I'll convince you, Dr Prude."

With that, he turned and walked out, leaving you to scoff in disbelief. Alone once more, you sat in silence, frustration mingling with the undeniable curiosity he had managed to spark.

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The soft click of the door opening broke the silence in your office, pulling you from your thoughts. Dr Ivanov entered, his sharp eyes immediately locking onto yours, weariness etched into his face.

"I heard that security consultant dropped by. What does he want?" His deep voice carried a note of concern, though he masked it well.

You rose from your seat instinctively, bowing respectfully before gesturing for him to sit. "Yes, well…" you hesitated, your lips pressing into a thin line. "He wants the same thing he wanted from you. Seems his attention has shifted to me now."

The elderly man sank into the chair across from you, his brow furrowing as he absorbed your words. For a moment, he was silent, his calculating mind undoubtedly piecing together the implications of Yunho's renewed interest. "Well?" he finally asked, his voice calm but tinged with worry. "Did you agree to it?"

Your response came instantly, your head shaking as if on reflex. "Of course not, sir," you whispered fiercely. Taking such a risk was unthinkable, the potential consequences far too dire. One misstep would endanger not only yourself but your family—and his. The asylum's unrelenting grip on your lives was an invisible shackle neither of you could escape.

Ivanov's shoulders relaxed slightly, though the tension lingered in his eyes. He glanced at your hands, clenched into tight fists on the desk, a habit that betrayed the memories threatening to surface—memories that haunted you both.

"You made the right decision," he said softly, though his words felt like cold comfort. "But you know he'll come back."

"I know," you murmured, lowering your gaze. Your voice was thick with frustration, the weight of fear pressing against your chest.

Your mind drifted, unbidden, to the beginning of this nightmare, the memories as vivid as if they had just occurred. You'd been fresh out of university then, brimming with ambition and armed with a psychology degree you'd worked tirelessly to earn. Interning under Dr Ivanov had been transformative—he had seen potential in you that no one else had, vowing to guide you through your career. When the offer from Prestige Asylum came, it had seemed like a dream.

The facility's reputation was impeccable, a beacon of excellence in mental health care. It felt like winning the lottery, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity you couldn't afford to pass up. The secrecy surrounding the institution's operations hadn't raised alarms; instead, it only added to the mystique. You felt honoured to stand beside him, your combined reputation a testament to integrity and expertise.

But cracks in the perfect facade had shown themselves quickly. The work was unlike anything you'd experienced before, the protocols unsettling and alien. Patients were scarce, their places filled by high-profile criminals hidden under the guise of treatment. The truth unravelled slowly, then all at once—a grotesque revelation that had left you and your mentor reeling in horror.

You'd both tried to leave, submitting your resignations in tandem, naively believing that principles would protect you. That illusion was shattered the moment you were summoned to meet Ryoichi Sato.

The Chairman's demeanour was calm, almost cordial, as he laid out file after file. Each one contained intimate details of your family's lives—names, addresses, routines—all laid bare as leverage. His cruel smile and carefully chosen words crushed any hope of escape. "You're the best," he had said, his tone almost mocking. "Your reputations are what make this place believable. Why would I let you go when you're perfect for the role?"

Since that day, you had been trapped, your skills and moral standing weaponised to mask the institution's sinister purpose. You'd learned to live with the ever-present fear, not for yourself but for the people you loved. Even if you somehow escaped, you knew Prestige Asylum's reach would follow you.

You glanced at Dr Ivanov now, his tired eyes reflecting your own. The two of you were bound together by this shared nightmare, captives in a gilded cage. Yet, his presence was an anchor in the storm, a steadying force. He was more than a mentor now—he was family, the closest thing to a father you had in this twisted place.

For a fleeting moment, your resolve wavered. Yunho's words echoed faintly, offering an out, a faint glimmer of hope. But hope was dangerous here, fragile and easily crushed. The elderly man's steady presence reminded you why impulsive action wasn't an option. The risk was too great, the cost too unthinkable.

For them. The mantra steadied you, as it did every day. It was why you stayed, why you endured the suffocating walls of this asylum. For the people waiting for you on the outside, for the faint possibility that one day this nightmare might end. Until then, all you could do was hold the line and navigate the razor-thin path laid before you.

Your mentor checked his watch, the faint lines on his face deepening with a sigh. "I have to get back to my post now," he said, rising from his seat with a heavy air. "But if that Stefano man ever bothers you again, let me know—"

You smiled softly, cutting him off. "Don't worry, sir. I'll know how to handle him. He won't sway me." Your voice was calm but firm, a quiet reassurance you hoped would ease his concerns.

Still, the weight of Yunho's visit lingered in your mind, the mystery of his identity gnawing at the edges of your resolve. "Besides," you added, your tone growing more contemplative, "we don't even know who he really is or who he works for. A big part of me hopes whatever he's planning works out... but I know it's in our best interests to stay uninvolved. Sato's connections make him far too powerful. I doubt one organisation alone could bring him down."

Dr Ivanov studied you for a moment, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You're right. I'm more reassured now, knowing you've thought this through so carefully. Stay safe, my dear."

"Thank you, sir. You too," you said quietly, bowing your head as you rose to escort him out.

At the door, the elderly man turned back to you, his expression briefly softening. "I will. We'll be okay," he murmured, his voice laced with the kind of warmth and care that reminded you of all the reasons you trusted him so deeply.

As the door clicked shut behind him, you stood in the quiet of your office, the lingering echoes of his presence both a comfort and a reminder of the precarious line you walked. Your gaze drifted to the sterile walls around you, the faint hum of the asylum's machinery a backdrop to your thoughts.

Stay uninvolved. The words repeated themselves in your mind, a steady mantra to counter the flicker of temptation Stefano Lee's offer had planted. Whatever freedom he hinted at wasn't worth the risk—not when the stakes were this high, not when so many lives were intertwined with your own.

With a deep breath, you returned to your desk, steeling yourself once more. In a place like this, where trust was a rarity and survival meant walking on a knife's edge, resolve was the only armour you had.

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"Good morning, Dr Prude."

You sighed, the sound of his voice confirming what you already knew without needing to glance to your left. Of course, it was him—the persistent, tall, and infuriatingly handsome man who seemed to make it his mission to pester you.

"The more you call me that, the quicker you'll lose whatever slim chances you think you have," you replied, your tone sharp but laced with subtle amusement.

He smirked, nudging your shoulder lightly with his. "Ah, so you're admitting I might've had a chance otherwise?" he teased, his words carrying that familiar mix of charm and mischief.

You raised a brow, feigning indifference while suppressing the flicker of amusement threatening to surface. For a brief moment, your thoughts wandered. Under different circumstances—if you were just an ordinary psychologist and he, an ordinary man—things might have been different. You might have seen him as a potential partner, someone worth taking a chance on.

But the moment passed quickly, and you blinked away the dangerous line of thought, locking it down as you focused ahead. Damn him for being so charming. No, you reminded yourself firmly, he wasn't going to rattle you. Not now, not ever.

Letting your guard snap back into place, you shifted direction abruptly, veering deeper into the hallways where the more intensive care patients were held. "You're wasting your time, Mr. Lee. Go bother someone else. I can't help you."

He exhaled in what sounded like momentary defeat, watching as you strode off with the same confidence you always carried. But even as you walked away, his gaze lingered, catching the briefest flicker in your eyes—something unguarded, something vulnerable. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but it was enough to spark a quiet curiosity within him.

The Enforcer knew it wasn't his business, and it certainly wasn't part of his mission. Yet something about you gnawed at the edges of his thoughts, compelling him to want to know more. There was a strength about you that was undeniable, but it felt... manufactured, like a mask you wore too well.

It was as if you were holding yourself back, tethered to something invisible yet suffocating, something that bound you so tightly it stopped you from moving freely. Yunho didn't know what it was, but the thought of it bothered him. Whatever it was that weighed you down, it wasn't just your burden to bear. At least, not if he had anything to say about it.

Wait... why did he even care so much? He paused, forcing himself to refocus on the mission. That was the only reason he was here—to make use of you, to get you on his side. Yet, there was something about you that unsettled his resolve, something beyond your sharp remarks and unwavering confidence that he couldn’t ignore.

It wasn't just attraction, though he couldn't deny how drawn he was to your competence. If there was one thing he admired in a woman, it was the ability to hold her own, and you had that in spades. You carried yourself with a strength that demanded respect, but it wasn't just the surface that intrigued him. Beneath the polished exterior, there was something raw, something real.

It reminded him of himself—not the man he was now, but the boy he used to be. The boy who had once cowered in the shadow of fear, trapped in a home that offered no love, only control and pain. He had known what it was like to feel bound by circumstances, to see no way out—until the Captain of the Black Pirates found him and gave him a second chance at life. Seeing you now was like looking into a mirror of his past. You were afraid—he could sense it, even if you hid it well. But afraid of what? That question clawed at him, sparking a need to understand you better.

Of course, he told himself, this curiosity wasn't personal. No, it would only serve his mission. Learning more about you would help him coax you into cooperation. That's all it was. This was about ensuring the success of his assignment, about proving Hongjoong's faith in him wasn't misplaced. He couldn't afford to get sidetracked—not with the stakes so high.

And besides, he thought with a faint smirk, he couldn't let Mingi have the satisfaction of questioning his ability to get the job done. No, Yunho would handle this—and you—exactly as planned. Or at least, that's what he kept telling himself.

Yes, this is all for the mission.

Stepping into the intensive care unit, any thoughts of Stefano Lee were thrown out the window as you tightened your grip on your composure, your expression a carefully crafted mask despite the wild, unrelenting thrum of your heartbeat. It wasn't the work itself that unnerved you—far from it. Caring for those in need had once been your passion, the foundation of your dreams. But here, in this place, the people you were forced to deal with weren't patients in any sense of the word. They were predators masquerading as something else, wolves dressed in the clothing of the vulnerable.

"Mr. Zhou has specifically asked for you today, Doctor," the nurse in charge informed you, her tone indifferent as she handed over a clipboard you had no choice but to accept.

Of course, he had.

Zhou was among the most vile of them all—a man who thrived on the suffering of others, the mastermind of a sprawling human trafficking network. And yet, he had decided that you were to be his source of amusement. It wasn't hard to see why; you were nothing like the other women here, those who simpered and flattered him in a desperate bid to curry favour. No, your quiet defiance, your refusal to play his games, seemed to intrigue him in ways that made your skin crawl.

You hated him. More than anyone else in this twisted facility. Others dealt in drugs or gambling—abhorrent crimes, yes, but nothing compared to Zhou's grotesque trade of innocence and humanity. To you, he was the embodiment of everything that was wrong with this place, and being near him felt like willingly stepping into quicksand.

But Zhou wasn't just another criminal. He was one of Sato's prized 'patients,' his wealth ensuring a status that made him untouchable. "He's a high-paying customer," the Chairman had said, his voice dripping with disdain as he slid a photograph across his desk—one of your parents, their unsuspecting smiles now burned into your memory. "We can't afford to lose his business. Do us all a favour and keep him happy. After all, you have a family to think about, don't you? Wouldn't want anything to happen to your sweet parents."

The helplessness of that moment still clawed at you, the suffocating sense of being trapped. All you'd been able to do was nod and whisper, "Yes, sir," as your nails bit into your palms, drawing blood you hadn't even felt at the time.

Now, that same photo flashed in your mind as you clutched the clipboard with trembling hands, forcing yourself to walk toward Zhou's ward. Each step felt like another inch toward a gaping abyss, yet you kept moving. The whispers and judgemental stares of your colleagues barely registered—what did their scorn matter when the stakes were this high? Let them call you 'Dr Prude.' Let them roll their eyes and mock your cold demeanour. None of it could compare to the suffocating weight of the threat hanging over your family.

"There you are, my darling!"

The voice, sickly sweet and dripping with false affection, sent a chill coursing through your body. You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat almost choking you, before forcing your lips into a polite smile. "Good morning, Mr. Zhou," you said evenly, the calmness in your voice hiding the storm of despair and disgust that churned within.

You couldn't falter now—not when every move you made was a performance for survival.

You stepped into his ward, clutching the clipboard so tightly to your chest that your knuckles turned white. It was a flimsy barrier, but it was all you had against the man sprawled in his cushioned chair, exuding an air of unearned power. His hospital gown, clean and unassuming, was a cruel mockery of the monster you knew he was.

"Ah, my favourite doctor," Zhou greeted, his voice syrupy with mock warmth that sent a chill racing up your spine. He leaned back leisurely, his sharp eyes sliding over you like a knife against skin. "What a lovely sight first thing in the morning."

You forced a polite smile, though your throat tightened painfully. Every instinct screamed at you to run, but that was not an option. Not here. Not with him.

He gestured to the chair across from him, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Come, sit. Let's chat before we get into all those boring tests you insist on."

You took a step closer but stayed standing, your spine stiff with an invisible armour you hoped wouldn't crack. "Thank you, Mr. Zhou, but I'd prefer to get this done quickly. I'm sure you have more important matters to tend to," you said, your tone firm yet careful.

He chuckled—a low, deliberate sound that made your stomach twist. "Important matters? None more important than you, Doctor. In fact—" His smirk widened, and he patted his lap with mock invitation. "Why don't you sit here? We could get much closer that way."

The air seemed to thin as his words settled between you. Your nails dug into the clipboard, anchoring yourself as your mind raced. You couldn't let him see your terror, couldn't let him sense the way your heart thundered wildly against your ribs. The Chairman's words replayed in your mind like a sinister mantra: Don't offend him.

Keeping your mask intact, you summoned a professional smile that felt like glass ready to shatter. "That's very kind of you, Mr. Zhou, but I'll have to decline. Maintaining the proper distance helps ensure I do my job effectively. I'm sure you understand."

His smirk faltered for a fraction of a second before returning, sharper this time. He leaned back, his gaze cutting through you like a blade. "Always so professional," he mused, his voice dripping with mockery. "That's why I enjoy our time together. The chase makes it all the more satisfying."

The bile rising in your throat threatened to choke you, but you pushed it down and turned your focus to the clipboard, setting it on the table beside him. With painstaking precision, you prepared the syringe, your hands trembling ever so slightly despite your effort to steady them.

As you approached him, Zhou tilted his head, his lips curling into a twisted smile. "You know, Doctor," he drawled, his voice laced with faux sweetness, "if you'd just relax, we could have so much fun together. Don't you ever get tired of being so... rigid?"

Your pulse roared in your ears, but you forced an even tone. "I appreciate your concern, Mr. Zhou," you said softly, looping the tourniquet around his arm with methodical care. "But my focus is on ensuring your health and well-being. I take that responsibility very seriously."

His chuckle was slow and ominous, the sound of a predator circling prey. His narrowed eyes glinted with something dark as he watched you lean in to draw his blood. "You're a tough one, aren't you?” he murmured, his voice dipping lower. "I like that. But you know... everyone breaks eventually."

Before you could process his words, his arm shot out, the syringe slipping from your grasp as a gasp escaped your lips. In one swift motion, he wrapped his arm around your waist and yanked you onto his lap, his grip iron-tight.

"Come on, darling," he whispered, his breath brushing against your ear as his tone turned sickeningly sweet. "How much longer are you going to play hard to get, hm?"

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For the first time in what felt like years, Yunho's mask of calm nearly cracked. He stood frozen at the gap in the door, his breath catching as he registered the scene before him. This wasn't what he had expected when he decided to drop by and observe you at work—hoping to glean insights about your habits, preferences, and perhaps the best way to approach you.

But this?

This was a nightmare come to life.

His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, the rage coursing through him threatening to spill over. It was all he could do to keep his breathing steady. The sight of you, trapped in Zhou's grasp, was a brutal reminder of the powerlessness he once endured. It dredged up memories he thought he had buried—moments when he, too, had been forced to endure, unable to fight back, unable to say no. But while his pain had been physical, yours was a violation of an entirely different kind.

This wasn't just wrong; it was unforgivable.

The injustice of it all burned in his chest, but the Enforcer swallowed the fury. Letting his emotions take over now would do neither of you any good. He needed to act, but carefully. With a steadying breath, he placed a hand on the door handle, forcing a bright, innocent smile onto his face.

Pushing the door open, he stepped inside, his voice casual and warm, masking the storm within. "Hey, doc, I hope I'm not interrupting, but I—" He paused mid-sentence, pretending to notice the scene before him for the first time. His performance was flawless, his jaw dropping in mock surprise as his eyes widened.

"Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed, striding forward with just the right mix of alarm and authority. "What the hell is going on in here?!"

In one fluid motion, he crossed the room and reached for you, prying you free from Zhou's grip with a practised ease. You stumbled into him, trembling, your tear-filled eyes locking onto his face. If you weren't so shaken, you might have seen through his act, might have caught the cold fury simmering beneath his polished facade. But in that moment, all you could feel was the safety his presence suddenly offered.

Zhou shot up from his seat, his narrowed eyes blazing with irritation. "Who the hell do you think you are, barging in here?" he growled, his tone laced with barely contained anger.

Yunho ignored him entirely, his focus solely on you. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft but loud enough for the Chinese bastard to hear. He placed himself firmly between you and the criminal, his broad frame shielding you. "Did the patient get out of control? This is exactly what I warned about—no security for the psychologists? It's unacceptable!" His tone carried a sharp edge, each word a carefully veiled reminder to Zhou that, here, he was just a patient. Nothing more.

Zhou's jaw tightened, recognition dawning in his eyes. He knew exactly who Yunho was—everyone did. The new security consultant hired to oversee operations, though none of the real players dared to let him in on the darker truths of the facility. The man was an outsider, and Zhou knew better than to draw unnecessary attention to himself now.

"I-I'm fine, Mr. Lee," you managed, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to sound composed. Your hand gripped Yunho's wrist as if it were a lifeline, grounding yourself through the chaos. "Mr. Zhou just... has his episodes, but he's harmless."

Zhou's smirk returned, though it was thinner now, less certain. The irritation in his eyes was clear as he reached for the nurse call button, signalling for someone to remove this 'disruption.' For all his arrogance, he knew better than to risk crossing a line in front of the taller man.

Yunho glanced back at you, his eyes softening for just a moment before returning to Zhou, cold and unyielding. "Episodes or not, no one should have to deal with this alone," he said firmly. "I'll make sure the Chairman hears about this."

His words were a warning, a subtle reminder that Zhou wasn't untouchable. And for the first time in that suffocating ward, you felt like someone was truly in your corner.

You didn't wait for the nurse to arrive. The moment the Enforcer had diverted Zhou's attention, you made a swift exit, clutching the clipboard to your chest like a shield. The stark, sterile hallways blurred as your legs carried you on autopilot, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You didn't stop until you reached the safety of your small office, slamming the door shut behind you and locking it with trembling hands.

Your breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps as you leaned against the door, the clipboard slipping from your grasp and clattering to the floor. Shoulders quaking with silent sobs, you bit down hard on your lip to stifle any sound. You couldn't afford to break here—not now.

The knock came so suddenly that you flinched, a small gasp escaping your lips.

"Hey," Stefano Lee's voice called through the door, calm yet resolute. "Open up."

Your pulse spiked again, panic flaring anew. The last thing you wanted was to face him—not like this, with tear-streaked cheeks and shattered composure.

"I'm fine," you managed to call back, though your voice trembled, betraying your facade.

"I'm not going anywhere until you let me in," he replied firmly, though a thread of unrelenting patience was woven into his tone.

For a moment, you hesitated, your hand hovering over the lock. Maybe if you stayed silent, he'd give up. But deep down, you knew better. With a reluctant sigh, you undid the lock and cracked the door open just enough for him to see you.

His expression softened instantly. "Can I come in?" he asked gently.

You nodded, stepping aside to let him in. His presence wasn't going to change anything—you wouldn't let it—but at least you could hear him out. That much you owed him. He closed the door softly behind him, leaning back against it as his eyes swept over you in silence. Arms crossed, his gaze—once so warm—was now edged with an intensity that made you shrink under its weight.

"What the hell was that back there?" he asked finally, his voice low but laced with restrained anger. "Why didn't you stop him? Or report him? You can't let him get away with treating you like that."

You turned away, busying yourself with the scattered papers on your desk. "It's not that simple," you murmured, your voice barely audible.

"Not that simple?" His voice rose slightly, tinged with disbelief. "You're a doctor. You shouldn't have to—"

"I can't," you snapped, spinning around to face him. Tears welled in your eyes, finally breaking free as your voice cracked under the pressure. "You don't understand."

"Then help me understand," he urged, his tone softening as he took a step closer. "Explain it to me."

You shook your head, arms wrapping tightly around yourself as if to hold your crumbling composure together. "Some people don't have a choice," you whispered, the words dripping with quiet despair. "Some of us... we're here because we have to be."

Yunho froze, the weight of your words sinking in as realisation dawned. Now it made sense—the resilience in your eyes despite the exhaustion, the quiet compliance in a place that didn't deserve you. The depths of this place's corruption ran deeper than he'd thought. "What do you mean?" he pressed, though his voice was quieter now.

You didn't answer directly. Instead, your tearful gaze met his, pleading silently for him to drop the matter. "Please," you whispered, your voice shaking. "Don't get involved. Just stay out of my business. And leave me and my mentor out of yours."

His jaw clenched, his fists curling tightly at his sides as he wrestled with the storm of emotions brewing inside him. He wanted to demand answers, to tell you no one should live like this, but the raw fear in your expression stopped him cold.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. "Fine," he said, his voice even but tinged with steel. "But I want you to know I'm not letting this go."

Your head shot up, alarm flashing in your eyes. "No," you said firmly, stepping toward him. "You have to. If you do anything, they'll—"

"I won't do anything reckless," he interrupted, his tone steady and measured. "I won't let anything happen to you or your mentor. But this?" He gestured vaguely around the room, his voice dropping to a whisper. "This isn't right. And I need you to know that what you've told me has only strengthened my resolve to infiltrate this place. Listen to me—what we're doing is to bring this place down."

You stared at him, torn between the flicker of hope his words ignited and the harsh reality you'd been enduring for so long. Slowly, you shook your head, tears slipping down your face. "You don't understand... Stefano," you whispered, the name barely audible.

He paused, his expression softening for the briefest moment. "Yunho," he corrected gently, his voice low. Your eyes widened slightly at the revelation, and he continued, "My name is Yunho. And I want you to know that what I'm offering you is a way out."

You exhaled shakily, closing your eyes for a moment as his words hung heavy in the air. You knew false hope when you saw it, and you didn't want someone like him to be crushed by the weight of his own naivety. You didn't know who he really was or who he worked for, but the way he had defended you spoke volumes about his character. He wasn't like the others here. "Okay, Yunho..." you murmured softly, your voice tinged with weary resignation. "But I need you to know that you won't succeed. There's more to this place than you could ever imagine. Trust me when I say you're only going to make things worse—for yourself and for your team."

He opened his mouth, ready to argue, but the anguish in your eyes stopped him cold. The pain etched across your face was enough to silence any retort. He nodded once, his expression shifting to one of quiet determination. "I understand that nothing I say will change your mind right now," he said firmly. "I'll step back for now. But I'm not giving up on you. Just... remember that."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked out, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing in the room. The silence that followed was deafening. Slowly, you sank into your chair, burying your face in your hands as the full weight of everything came crashing down, pressing heavily on your chest.

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"Here's what you asked for," the Phantom said, tossing the files labelled with your name onto Yunho's desk. His gaze was sharp, unwavering. "I hope you haven't forgotten your main objective, because ever since meeting her, it almost feels like you have."

Yunho exhaled a slow breath, reaching for the file and flipping it open without hesitation. "Thanks, Yeo. I know you're worried, but trust me—once I convince her, she'll be a huge asset to us."

"When you convince her?" Yeosang challenged, leaning forward over the desk, eyes narrowing. "And when exactly is that supposed to happen, Yunho?"

The Enforcer rubbed his temple, exhaustion creeping into his voice. "Soon, my brother. I have no intention of letting Hongjoong hyung down—just as much as you. I know I've strayed from the original plan, but I'll set things right… with her help. And for the record, she won't be a distraction."

Yeosang let out a quiet sigh, his expression unreadable. He didn't argue further, merely giving a slow, reluctant nod before turning to leave. Just as he reached the door, he muttered under his breath, "I think she already has."

Yunho leaned back in his chair as soon as his brother was gone, flipping through the file with practised ease. His sharp eyes scanned the neatly typed lines, but it wasn't the information that initially caught his attention—it was your photo.

A small, inexplicable smile tugged at his lips as he studied the image. It was you, younger and unburdened, a spark of passion gleaming in your eyes. The confidence was the same, but there was something different—something brighter. This version of you radiated ambition, the kind of fire that belonged to someone ready to take on the world. It was almost unsettling to compare it to the person he had come to know.

The you he now knew still carried confidence, but it was subdued, weighed down by something invisible yet undeniably heavy. Behind your carefully composed exterior, there was exhaustion, an ever-present weariness hidden beneath layers of restraint. He had noticed it before but never thought much of it—until now.

Flipping through the pages, he absorbed everything. Your education, your qualifications—he committed them to memory effortlessly, piecing together an image of who you had been before joining Prestige. He could almost see it: you, bent over textbooks, scribbling down notes, fueled by a dream to make a difference.

His gaze lingered on the section about your family. Supportive parents, a stable upbringing—something he himself never had. A mentor who had guided you toward success. Yunho exhaled quietly. He was glad you had people who cared for you, yet the more he read, the more things didn't add up.

Then he found it. The moment you and Dr Sergei Ivanov had been recruited into Prestige Asylum. Everything seemed normal at first—until it wasn't. Not long after joining, the both of you had attempted to resign. Yunho's brows furrowed as he skimmed ahead, expecting to find an explanation. But there was nothing.

The resignation had never gone through.

Instead, both of you have continued working at the wretched institution up to the present day. That alone wasn't what unsettled him most—it was the fact that from the moment of that failed resignation, neither of you had seen your families since.

Yunho's jaw tightened. He didn't need to see the missing details to guess what had happened. He had seen this before, in different forms, under different circumstances. Prestige Asylum had buried the truth, manipulated the narrative. He had no doubt that whatever had taken place was the reason for the exhaustion in your eyes, the anxiety lurking beneath your composed demeanour.

But what exactly had happened?

He closed the file, fingers tapping against the cover in thought. He could make assumptions, but assumptions weren't enough. He needed confirmation. He needed the truth. And now, it seemed like you were the only one who could give it to him.

But it won't be easy.

Yunho had expected many things. He had expected frustration, dead ends, and the constant need to reassess his approach. What he hadn't expected, however, was for you to be the one to break first.

After your last conversation, he had made the difficult decision to leave you alone, to respect your plea and to keep his distance. Keeping Yeosang's words in mind, he had thrown himself back into his task, digging for evidence the Black Pirates could use to expose Prestige Asylum for what it truly was. But time and time again, he met disappointment. The asylum was airtight, designed to keep outsiders from uncovering its secrets. Despite his best efforts under his security consultant cover, all he had managed to gather were fragments—not nearly enough to bring Ryoichi Sato down. If only you had chosen to help him, he could have made real progress.

But he remembered the desperation in your voice when you had begged him to leave you and your mentor alone. And despite his own firm words, he waged an internal war, wondering if he should do as you asked. If leaving you alone was truly the right thing to do.

Unbeknownst to him, his absence had unsettled you more than you cared to admit. Even though you had been the one to ask him to stay away, you had found yourself watching him as he worked, seeing the way his frustration grew at the lack of progress. You saw the way his shoulders tensed as he left the asylum each day, his patience wearing thin.

His words echoed in your mind, refusing to be silenced.

"I'm not asking you to betray anyone. I'm asking you to work with us. Help us take down the Chairman, and in return, we'll make sure you come out of this unscathed."

At the time, the idea of helping him had seemed foolish, reckless even. But after your recent encounter with Zhou, you feared things were only going to get worse. Had it not been for Yunho, you didn't even want to think about what could have happened. Staying here and obeying orders guaranteed your family's safety for now, but Sato was a snake—who was to say he wouldn't turn on you and Dr Ivanov the moment you became disposable?

The thought of aiding Yunho in taking Prestige down had once seemed ridiculous. But what if it was your only chance at freedom?

You had seen the way he had fought for you, the way he had looked at you—not with pity, but with anger on your behalf. It had changed something in you. He had finally given you his real name. And maybe that had been the final push you needed.

So now, here he was, sitting before you in your office as you carefully pushed the files toward him. Documents filled with fabricated diagnoses and records of transactions that proved what he had suspected all along—Prestige Asylum was a shield for the wealthy and corrupt, a place where justice was bought and buried.

He stared at the papers as disbelief settled in. "What's this?" he asked, his voice quieter than usual, laced with restrained shock.

You exhaled slowly, arms crossing over your chest as if to shield yourself from what you were about to do. "Evidence you've been trying to uncover all this time but couldn't. It's not enough to take the place down, but it's something. These contain information on the patients I was assigned, at least. There are more that I have yet—"

"Thank you."

His voice was firm yet sincere, cutting you off before you could finish. Your breath hitched slightly at the way he looked at you—no gloating, no smug satisfaction, just quiet gratitude. It was disarming.

You looked away, suddenly feeling exposed. "Don't thank me yet. This… this doesn't mean anything."

Yunho tilted his head slightly, studying you. "Does it really not?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. Maybe it did. Maybe it meant more than you were ready to admit.

You had convinced yourself that you were only doing this to return the favour, to repay the debt you felt you owed him after what he had done for you. But deep down, you knew it wasn't just that.

It was the way you had seen him struggle, the way he kept pushing forward despite how difficult it was. It was the way he had saved you without hesitation, how he had looked at you like you were more than just another cog in the machine of Prestige Asylum.

And maybe, just maybe, it was because, for the first time in a long time, you wanted to believe in something again.

He carefully gathered the files, his fingers ghosting over the pages before he met your gaze once more. "This is a start."

You nodded, still uncertain, still afraid. But for the first time, you weren't entirely unwilling.

And that was enough—for now.

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Time passed, though neither of you ever acknowledged the change.

There had been no formal agreement, no spoken confirmation, but it was there—a silent understanding that you and Yunho were now working together.

You continued your daily routine, performing your duties with the same composure as always, but now with a purpose beyond survival. Every session, every document, every exchange within the asylum was another opportunity to collect evidence. Yunho, on the other hand, went on with his investigations under the guise of Prestige Asylum's new security consultant, but his work had become more efficient, more precise—because now, he had an insider.

And you had finally learned everything about him.

"I'm the Enforcer of the Black Pirates."

That was all he had to say for you to immediately understand.

The Black Pirates were no ordinary syndicate. Their name alone sent ripples through the underworld, spoken of in hushed, wary tones by the high-profile criminals this institution harboured. Ruthless, strategic, and feared, they had built a reputation as one of the most formidable forces in the underground.

At least, until recently.

Rumours had spread through the asylum—criminals whispering about the gang's latest struggles. They had become the newest target of the up-and-coming White Serpents, a rising syndicate that had been making waves with their brutal and unpredictable tactics. It wasn't just idle gossip; even Sato had taken notice.

If only these criminals, if only Ryoichi Sato himself, knew that one of the Black Pirates was now walking among them, quietly dismantling their precious asylum from the inside. You wondered if they would still be so smug.

Knowing who Yunho truly was brought you an odd sense of reassurance. It wasn't that you trusted him completely—not yet—but his reputation spoke for itself. If he had come this far, if his people had been able to shake even the strongest criminal empires, then perhaps—just perhaps—he could pull this off.

But there was still a risk.

You knew what would happen if the Chairman discovered your betrayal. Prestige did not tolerate disloyalty. You had seen firsthand what happened to those who had outlived their usefulness, to those who dared to resist. Even now, you and Dr Ivanov were still trapped in this place because of one failed attempt to leave.

And yet…

For the first time in years, your fate was in your own hands. You realised now that if you continued to stay put, this nightmare would never end. Sato would keep tightening his hold, keep pulling the strings, keep ensuring that neither you nor the head psychologist would ever see your families again.

Perhaps it was time to do something about it. For your family. For Dr Ivanov and his family. For yourself. And for the first time, that thought didn't terrify you. It gave you hope.

Hope.

A cruel, fragile thing.

It wavered in your chest as you stared down at the worn photograph in your hands, your parents' smiling faces frozen in time. You traced their features with your fingertips, your vision blurring with unshed tears. It had been so long since you'd seen them, so long since you had felt the warmth of home.

And now, you were about to write them another letter. Another carefully crafted lie. Another excuse about why you couldn't return home yet. Another attempt to reassure them that you were safe when, in reality, you had never felt more trapped.

Will this be the last time?

The thought lodged itself painfully in your mind. You wanted to believe it. You wanted to believe that this was the last time you'd have to lie to them, the last time you'd have to pretend that everything was fine, now that you had a plan—Yunho's plan.

But even as you forced yourself to write, exhaustion seeped into your bones, weighing heavier than ever. You were tired—so, so tired. Tired of pretending. Tired of surviving instead of living. Tired of never knowing if you would ever be free again.

The first tear fell before you could stop it.

Then another.

And soon, they wouldn't stop.

Goddamnit, where is she?

Yunho wandered through the dimly lit halls, searching for you. It had become routine—this quiet, unspoken agreement between you. Every evening before he left, he would find you, collect whatever evidence you had managed to obtain that day, exchange a few words, and then go on his way.

But today, your office was empty.

You had left him the files, as usual, stashed in the hidden corner you had designated in case you weren't around. Technically, he had no reason to linger. His job was done for the day.

And yet, something didn't sit right.

Your absence unsettled him in a way he couldn't explain. His mind raced with possibilities. What if something had happened to you? What if Zhou had gotten to you again? What if—

Shaking the thought away, he signalled for his driver to leave the compound, ensuring it looked as though he had left. Then, moving with the stealth he had long mastered, he slipped back inside. The unease gnawed at him as he searched.

You weren't with the patients. That, at least, was a relief.

Still, the asylum was vast, and the deeper he ventured, the heavier the silence became. It wasn't until he reached the abandoned wing that he finally found you. Sitting alone. Crying.

There you are.

His footsteps were nearly soundless as he approached, but somehow, you still sensed him. Your body tensed before you abruptly turned, raising a fist in pure reflex. He caught your wrist before you could strike, his grip firm but not forceful.

"Relax," he murmured gently, his voice softer than you expected. "It's me."

The tension in your muscles unravelled as you exhaled a shaky breath, turning away almost instantly. You wiped at your eyes in a futile attempt to erase the evidence of your tears, but you knew it was useless. He had already seen.

"Why are you still here?" you asked, your voice thick with emotion, your fingers tightening around the photograph in your lap.

Instead of answering right away, the man lowered himself beside you, close enough that his warmth pressed against the cool air of the abandoned wing. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands loosely intertwined.

"You weren't in your office, and I... just wanted to make sure you were alright," he whispered.

A lump formed in your throat at his sincerity. You sniffled, rubbing at your nose as you tried to keep your voice steady. "I'm fine."

He let out a quiet, disbelieving chuckle, shaking his head. "Are you, though?"

You didn't respond. You didn't have to.

The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. It lingered, heavy but strangely grounding.

Your gaze dropped to the photograph still trembling in your hands. He followed your line of sight, his eyes softening as he took in the faded edges, the familiar smiles frozen in time. After a beat, he dared to ask, "Your parents? Are they… safe?"

You hesitated before giving a small nod. But there was no relief in your expression, no weight lifted from your shoulders. "They are… for now." Your voice was quiet, almost fragile. "So long as I stay here like a good dog, they will be."

His breath hitched almost imperceptibly, but you caught it.

That was all he needed to hear.

His jaw tightened, fingers curling into fists against his thighs. He had suspected you were trapped here, but now, he understood just how deep the chains ran. The safety of your loved ones bound you to this place. And somehow, that realisation cut deeper than he expected.

Yunho had seen people held captive in many ways before—by fear, by greed, by debt, by loyalty. But this? This was different.

Because it was you.

The quiet between you stretched, but neither of you felt the need to fill it. Instead, he slowly, cautiously, let his fingers relax. Then, without thinking, he reached out—not forcefully, not expectantly, but just enough for his knuckles to brush against yours where they still clutched the photograph.

A silent offer. A quiet anchor.

You didn't pull away. For the first time, you let the warmth of his presence seep into the cracks of your exhaustion.

The Enforcer's resolve solidified.

Prestige Asylum had to fall. Not just for his mission. Not just for the Black Pirates. But for you.

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As your quiet alliance with Yunho deepened, it was only a matter of time before your mentor noticed.

Dr Ivanov had always been observant. Each evening, he watched with furrowed brows as Stefano Lee left your office before departing the compound. It had happened too many times now to be a coincidence. The Russian psychologist had been aware that the so-called security consultant wasn't who he claimed to be, but now a more pressing concern took root.

Was he coercing you into helping him? Was he threatening you?

The thought weighed on him until he finally decided to confront you. He waited until he was sure the taller man was gone, then made his way to your office, knocking firmly before pushing the door open at your soft "Come in." But the moment he heard your next words, he knew. He had been wrong.

"Back so soon? Did you forget something again?"

Your words faltered when your eyes lifted to meet his as realisation struck—this wasn't the charming gang member. It was your mentor. And in that single second, Ivanov saw it in your face. You had been willingly meeting with the man.

A long sigh left the elderly man as he stepped inside. "So, you gave in?"

You quickly rose from your seat, bowing your head slightly. "Sir, I can explain."

And you did. You told him everything—how Yunho had saved you, the truth about who he really was, and the fact that he wasn't just any gang member, but the Enforcer of the Black Pirates. Throughout it all, Ivanov listened in silence, his expression unreadable. But as you spoke, something in your voice softened. You reassured him that Yunho wasn't like the criminals you both dealt with every day.

He wasn't like them.

"His real name is—"

"No." His firm response stopped you short, and for a moment, your heart sank. But then, he surprised you. His lips quirked into the smallest of smiles.

"He entrusted you with his name, not me," the head psychologist murmured. "Protect it the way he protected you."

The tension in your shoulders eased. That was all you needed to know. Your mentor understood. Without another word, he took the seat across from you, silently offering his support. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you weren't alone in this.

"I will, sir."

Back at the Black Pirates' mansion, Yunho strode down the dimly lit corridors, heading for his room after leaving the day's evidence with the Captain. Just as he reached for the doorknob, his fingers brushed against something small in his pocket.

Frowning, he pulled it out—and a quiet chuckle slipped past his lips.

A candy.

The memory resurfaced immediately.

Earlier that day, his gaze had drifted to the glass bowl of sweets on your desk. "You know," he mused with amusement, "it almost feels like the amount never lessens. Who are these even for, doc?"

You smirked, leaning back in your chair as you plucked one up. "They're for patients I like. But… as you can see, there aren't many I'm capable of liking here. Or even at all." The smirk didn't last. Reality had a way of dimming those small flickers of humour.

Before you could react, he swiped the candy from your hand, his fingers grazing yours for the briefest second. Your breath hitched. "Wha—"

"I may not be a patient," he grinned, tucking it into his pocket, "but I can be your favourite."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "You wish." His smile lingered as he turned away, the candy now his.

"Oh, great. Not you too."

A deep voice pulled him from his thoughts. He pushed the candy back into his pocket and turned to face the source.

Song Mingi.

The Firestarter leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. Yunho's expression darkened. He had grown tired of the man's recent jabs, the barely veiled resentment in his voice. "Enough, Mingi," he said, voice low and cutting. "Let's not be hypocrites."

Mingi stiffened slightly as his best friend took a step forward. "Don't start this bullshit unless you can clean up your own mess and cut off your new lady friend too." His smirk faded.

"Everyone here is doing their best," the Enforcer continued. "And if you have nothing to contribute except complaints, shut up. We all know you're in the same damn shoes. No one calls you out on it out of respect, so don't take that for granted. Don't take the anger of your own failure out on the rest of us."

Mingi's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. With that, Yunho turned and disappeared into his room, the door slamming shut behind him.

Silence stretched between the remaining brothers. And for once, the Firestarter had nothing to say. Yunho knew you were never supposed to be part of his mission. But unlike his hyungs, he wasn't blind to reality. This wasn't a distraction. You weren't a distraction. His protectiveness over you wasn't a weakness—it was fuel. A reason to push harder, to move faster.

Because if he succeeded in bringing Prestige Asylum and Ryoichi Sato down, he wouldn't just be completing his mission.

He'd be setting you free.

And he would see that through, no matter what.

That determination only strengthened as he returned to the asylum the next day. This mission had always been about taking down Sato, about gathering enough evidence to expose Prestige for what it truly was. But now, as he walked through the cold, sterile halls, he knew his purpose had expanded. He wasn't just here for the mission anymore. He was here for you. And that purpose solidified when he saw you break.

It started with an uneasy feeling. You weren't in your office. That alone unsettled him. Even on difficult days, you always managed to be where you needed to be. But not today.

His gut twisted as he searched through the institution, his steps quick but calculated, ignoring the wary glances from passing staff. By the time he reached the more secluded wing of the building, a faint sound stopped him in his tracks.

A choked, muffled sob.

He followed the sound until he reached the door of the female washroom. Pushing it open, he stepped inside—and there you were.

Standing before the mirror, gripping the sink as if it were the only thing keeping you upright. Your white doctor's coat was discarded at the side. Your sleeves were pushed up, revealing fresh burns marring your arms—small, circular wounds that made his blood run cold. Yunho felt the breath leave his lungs.

Cigarette burns.

Yunho's breath stilled. His hands curled into fists, knuckles white with barely contained fury. He had fought and bled through enough hellish places to recognise the work of a sadist when he saw it—because once upon a time, he had been on the receiving end of that same cruelty. The scars on his own body were proof. And he didn't need to ask who had done this to you.

Zhou.

That fucking bastard.

The anger roared in his veins, an unrelenting storm demanding vengeance, but he forced it down—for now. Because this wasn't about him. This was about you. And right now, you didn't need revenge.

You needed someone.

He moved slowly, careful not to startle you. His reflection joined yours in the mirror, but you remained unmoving, lost in a world of pain he could only imagine. It wasn't until he was close enough that you finally spoke, your voice fragile and raw.

"I... I refused him again. And he was furious."

His chest tightened.

Without thinking, his fingers ghosted over your wrist, an instinctive need to comfort—but the moment you flinched, he stopped, his heart twisting as you whimpered, "No... don't look at me. I'm ashamed to face you... or anyone."

The Enforcer exhaled, his jaw tightening as he fought the ache in his throat. Ashamed? The thought of you—someone so strong, so resilient—believing you had something to be ashamed of made his blood run cold.

"And why should you be ashamed?" he asked softly.

Your voice broke. "Because I'm weak."

A pained smile tugged at the corner of his lips. A smile that held years of unspoken memories, buried wounds that had never fully healed. "Then I guess I am too."

Your blurry eyes lifted to meet his in the mirror, confusion flickering through your exhausted expression. Before you could ask, he quietly unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt.

Your breath hitched.

Faded scars marred his chest—old burns, some shaped like the ones on your arms, others deeper, more jagged. Wounds left by cruel hands, by people who should have protected him.

"I was once young and defenceless, beaten and abused by the people I called my parents, all because I was the product of an accident, an unplanned birth," he admitted, voice steady but heavy. "I spent my teenage years committing petty crimes, drifting through life aimlessly because I believed I didn't deserve any better. I thought I was ruined… so I accepted my fate."

You stared at him, your own pain momentarily forgotten as you listened.

"But my leader found me. He taught me that it wasn't my fault. That sometimes, no matter how strong we try to be, we need someone to pull us out of it. He was that person for me." He took a step closer, his voice softer now, but no less firm. "And now… I just want you to know that you don't have to be strong all the time."

You finally turned to face him fully.

"Let someone else carry the weight for once." His voice was a whisper now, but it reached you in ways nothing else had. "I'm here now."

Something inside you broke. For years, you had carried the weight of your suffering alone. You had built walls, convinced yourself that no one could—or would—save you. But standing here, with him, someone who knew what it was like to be trapped in suffering, who understood what it meant to survive…

The walls cracked.

A shaky breath left your lips, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned into him. And Yunho, without hesitation, held you up.

He didn't promise that things would be okay. He didn't tell you to be strong. He simply stayed, steady and unyielding, silently promising that, for once, you weren't alone. For the first time in years, you let someone share your burden. And for the first time in years, he let someone see the scars he no longer hid behind.

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"This won't do. The evidence we've been collecting—I fear it won't be enough to take Prestige down completely. Even if we leak it to the authorities, Sato and all his friends feigning mental illness here will find a way to twist the narrative. They'll deny everything until the very end," Yunho said, his voice low but resolute.

He sat across from you in your office, a familiar sight by now. Yet, something had changed ever since that day in the washroom. Neither of you had spoken about it, but it was there—in the way his visits stretched longer, in the way his touch lingered just a moment too long, in the way your gazes held more than just strategy.

Something unspoken lingered between you, but neither of you acknowledged it. Perhaps because you both knew the circumstances wouldn't allow for more. Nothing more than this.

You bit your lip, hesitating.

Now was the time.

For days, you had debated whether or not to tell him. At first, you had kept it to yourself for his safety, or maybe it was for your own. You weren't sure anymore. But when you had told him he didn't know the full extent of Sato's operations, you had meant it.

"I…" Your voice wavered. "I do have something. Something that could destroy this place completely if it gets out."

He leaned forward, his gaze sharpening. "But?"

Your fingers curled into fists. "I have no evidence, Yunho. Sato is incredibly careful, he—"

Without hesitation, he reached across the desk, covering your trembling hand with his. His warmth steadied you, grounding you in the moment.

"Don't worry about him or the evidence," he said, voice steady, reassuring. "That's what I'm here for. Just tell me. Tell me everything you know about this place."

You swallowed hard, the weight of your secrets pressing down on you. But then his grip tightened ever so slightly—an unspoken promise. "You trust me, right?" he asked, his voice softer now.

You met his gaze, the sincerity in his eyes dissolving the last bit of doubt within you.

"I do."

Thanks to your help, Yunho's gaze stayed locked on the Chairman's office later that night, perched like a throne atop the highest floor of the main building. The faint glow seeping through the curtains barely touched the darkness of the night, but it was enough. Somewhere in that room lay the final, undeniable proof to expose Sato—and tonight, he was going to get it.

Rolling his shoulders, he tugged on his gloves, loosening his tie before throwing Yeosang a nod. "I'll leave the Records Room to you."

The Phantom smirked, tightening the straps of his gear. "This little birdie of yours best not be lying."

Yunho's jaw flexed, the protectiveness in his tone sharp. "She's not."

His brother only shrugged, adjusting his weapons before melting into the shadows. "She better not be."

With a roll of his eyes, the Enforcer turned on his heel, striding toward the Chairman's office while Yeosang vanished over the fences with practised ease. He would scour the second-best place for evidence while Yunho infiltrated the most heavily guarded room in the entire asylum. And if the security around it was that tight, there had to be a damn good reason.

And thus, the grand mission began.

Organ harvesting.

That was the truth you had given him.

Prestige Asylum wasn't just a sanctuary for criminals—it was a slaughterhouse. Yunho had seen his fair share of horrors, had waded through the filth of the underworld more times than he could count. But this? This was something else. This was monstrous. The criminals who sought refuge here weren't just evaluated by their wealth and influence. They were examined. Categorised. Sorted like cattle. The weak, the old, the ones who had nothing left to offer? They were marked. Stripped of their dignity. Stripped of their parts.

Organs—harvested, sold, and shipped off to the highest bidder.

Sato wasn't just sheltering scum.

He was butchering them.

And Yunho felt no pity for these bastards—not when their own sins had led them here. But the sheer scale of it, the grotesque efficiency, the cold, methodical way human bodies were treated as nothing more than a product—it made his stomach churn with disgust he hadn't felt in years.

And yet, in all its horror, this was perfect.

Because this was the key to bringing it all down. With solid proof, it wouldn't just be the authorities coming for Ryoichi Sato. It would be his own people. The criminals who had thought they were safe, who had paid their way into this fortress of false security, would come to a sickening realisation. They were never guests. They were inventory.

And once the truth came out, Prestige wouldn't just fall.

It would burn.

"Wait, what are you going to do now?"

Your voice echoed in Yunho's mind as he moved silently through the shadows, each step deliberate, every muscle coiled with purpose. The asylum was still, save for the occasional flicker of a distant security light. His target was near, but for a fleeting moment, his thoughts strayed—to you.

Unlike his usual self, he didn't know why he did it, but he found himself pausing. Just for a second. Just long enough to glance down at the darkened window of your office. A faint smile tugged at his lips. Were you already asleep in your quarters? Would you be furious if you knew what he was doing now? He wondered how you'd react—if you'd scold him, if you'd worry, if you'd care.

Care about him the way he cared about you.

His heartbeat stuttered at the thought, at the memory of you grasping his arm before he could leave your office earlier that evening. The genuine concern in your eyes, the slight tremble in your voice—it had made something tighten in his chest.

You were worried for him.

For him.

He could still feel the warmth of your touch, the way his hand instinctively covered yours, his thumb brushing against your skin in silent reassurance. He shouldn't have lingered, but he did. And then, for some godforsaken reason, he had winked at you, teasing, "Don't worry about it, doc. You've done all you could, and for that, I thank you. I'll take care of the rest now."

You hadn't let go.

And for a moment—just a moment—the two of you had stood there, locked in a wordless exchange that spoke louder than anything either of you could say aloud. Then he had made the mistake of looking down.

Your lips.

His resolve had nearly crumbled. He had fought everything in him to tear his gaze away, forcing himself to meet your eyes again—eyes that were no longer guarded, no longer dismissive like when you first met. No, there was a fire in them now.

And god, he liked seeing that fire.

"You better, Jung Yunho."

He had nearly groaned at the way his name sounded coming from you, low and daring. He had bitten his lip, eyes dark with unspoken thoughts before murmuring, "I promise."

And then he left—because if he hadn't, he might have done something foolish.

Now, as he shook off the memory and refocused on his mission, he felt it. The fire in you had ignited something in him too. And no matter what happened tonight, he would keep his promise.

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Yunho moved like a shadow, slipping past guards who might as well have been mannequins for all the use they were. Years of training with the Phantom had honed him into a ghost, his presence undetectable, his steps soundless. If anyone so much as blinked at the wrong moment, they'd never know he had been there at all.

The Chairman's office loomed ahead, its grand double doors guarded by two men who stood with stiff professionalism. But the Enforcer had seen better security in cheap nightclubs. A well-timed distraction—a small device flicked across the hall, producing a distant clatter—was all it took for them to step away, momentarily distracted. That was his cue. He was inside within seconds.

And he almost laughed.

That was it? Just the usual lock-picking technique? The great Ryoichi Sato, mastermind of this entire operation, was brought down by a few turns of a pick? Yunho had expected retina scanners, biometric safes, maybe even a hidden security system, but this?

Pathetic.

Shaking off his disbelief, he got to work, rifling through drawers, scanning bookshelves, even running his hands along the edges of furniture for hidden compartments. He found a safe tucked behind an abstract painting and smirked.

This was the real challenge.

Except it wasn't.

A few code attempts later—birthdates, the asylum's founding year, a few numbers from the invoices he found—and the safe clicked open. His grin vanished the second he saw what was inside.

Gold bars. Stacks of cash. A few vaguely worded invoices.

Nothing useful.

Yunho inhaled sharply, a spark of frustration lighting in his chest. This wasn't enough. They needed something undeniable, something that would expose Sato for what he truly was—a butcher masquerading as a saviour. Not meaningless transactions.

He was running out of places to search. And time.

Just as he was about to leave and search elsewhere, his fingers brushed against something buried in one of the lower drawers. He pulled it out, his breath catching slightly. A photograph.

You, smiling with your parents.

His fingers curled tightly around it as he pulled out another one. Dr Ivanov, standing with his wife and child.

Fuckin' bastard.

A sharp surge of anger coursed through him, his grip on the photos tightening. He wanted to tear them apart, to destroy the reason you're trapped in this godforsaken place. But before he could act on the impulse, a soft knock echoed through the room.

He froze. His head whipped around, every muscle tensed, every sense heightened. Had he been caught? Had the guards finally realised something was wrong?

Then, he heard it—faint but familiar. "It's me. Find a way to open this secret passage. You're in for a surprise."

Yeosang.

Yunho exhaled sharply, his heartbeat steadying as he turned toward the sound. The bookshelf near the far wall shifted slightly, as if someone was pushing from the other side. A hidden passage?

Without wasting another second, he ran his hands along the wood, searching for a mechanism. It took a few tries—pressing at different spots, pulling at certain books—until finally, something clicked. The shelf groaned as it slowly swung open, revealing a dimly lit passageway.

And there stood the Phantom, arms crossed, an infuriatingly smug grin tugging at his lips. "Seems Dr Prude wasn't lying after all."

Yunho scoffed, stepping forward. "Told you so."

With that, the brothers disappeared into the darkness below. The taller man raised a brow as he stepped into the dimly lit chamber, taking in the scene before him.

The ground was littered with bodies—some unconscious, thanks to Yeosang, and others far beyond saving. The criminals who had foolishly sought refuge in Prestige lay sprawled on cold metal tables, their chests crudely opened, the sickly scent of antiseptic failing to mask the underlying stench of blood and decay. It was clear that mere minutes ago, this room had been alive with activity—surgeons slicing, nurses assisting, transactions being made in hushed voices—until the Phantom arrived and ended it all in an instant.

"Impressive," Yunho muttered, nudging one of the unconscious workers with his boot.

The Phantom shrugged as if it were nothing. "They weren't even that skilled. Hardly worth the effort." He turned his gaze toward the far end of the room, where a row of glass walls separated them from an adjoining chamber. "Was wandering through the last few rows of the Records Room until I found a similar opening that led to this place. Figured you'd be around here somewhere."

Yunho followed his brother's nod, his attention shifting past the bloodstained operating tables to the massive archive just beyond the glass. There. He didn't need Yeosang's smirk to confirm it. It was practically a gold mine. Without hesitation, he stepped inside, his eyes immediately drawn to the endless shelves lined with thick folders. He pulled one out at random, flipping it open, and the realisation hit like a punch to the gut.

Patient files.

No, not patients.

Criminals.

Sato's team of corrupt doctors had faked their deaths, using fabricated mental illnesses as a cover for their "decline." One by one, they were marked as deceased, their medical records doctored to remove suspicion. Their organs were harvested, sold on the black market, and their bodies discreetly disposed of like garbage.

And at the bottom of each profile—cold, clinical, and damning—was a final price. The total amount each body had been worth.

His grip tightened on the folder. This wasn't just a side hustle. This was the asylum's lifeblood. The money made from these transactions didn't just line Sato's pockets—it funded Prestige's continued expansion. Every new wing, every upgraded facility, every added layer of so-called security only made the place more untouchable, burying its corruption deeper beneath a facade of legitimacy.

This was how the Chairman had managed to build a kingdom on filth and blood. By monetising both the living and the dead. By making sure that even his customers—his supposed "guests"—were nothing more than assets waiting to be cashed in.

The Enforcer exhaled sharply, shoving the file back into place. This was it. This was everything they needed. "Time to report back," he said, turning to Yeosang.

His brother grinned, already moving toward the passage. "Hongjoong hyung's gonna have a field day with this."

Yunho glanced back at the bloodstained room one last time, his jaw tightening. Sato had built this empire on greed, corruption, and death. And now, they were going to tear it all down.

But before that, there was something else he needed to do. He had told the Phantom to head back first. It was reckless to linger after the stunt they had just pulled—if security caught wind of what happened before he was off the compound, everything could come crashing down on him. But he had to do this first.

Slipping back into Sato's office with practised stealth, he made sure to reseal the hidden passage before heading straight for the drawer. His fingers found the photos instantly. A picture of you with your parents. Another of Dr Ivanov with his family.

Yeosang had called it a stupid risk, but Yunho didn't care. Something in him refused to let Ryoichi Sato keep these. He hated the idea of that bastard having something so personal, so intimate, tucked away in his possession.

This was for you.

For the sake of his own heart.

Tucking the photos neatly into his pocket, he slipped out through a side window, moving like a shadow as he made his way toward your office. He knew you weren't there, but maybe he'd leave behind a little surprise for you to find in the morning.

Only, he didn't expect to hear his name whispered from behind.

"Yunho?"

He spun around instantly, eyes locking onto your figure. You stood there in casual clothes, a stark contrast to the formal attire he was so used to seeing you in. Why were you still up? Could you not sleep? You cradled a steaming mug in your hands—coffee, he presumed—but it was the expression on your face that caught him off guard.

Shock. Then alarm.

Your feet moved before your mind could catch up. You grabbed his arm, your grip firm, urgent. "What the hell are you doing here at this time of night, you idiot?" you whisper-yelled.

He grinned sheepishly and pulled the photos from his pocket, holding them up. "Came to return these to you."

Your heart clenched. He had risked everything to retrieve them.

Before you could even begin to process the implications, the thunder of footsteps echoed down the hall. The voices of guards grew louder—searching, calling out about an intruder.

Your pulse spiked. Without a second thought, you grabbed the man and yanked him inside your office, slamming the door shut behind you just as your better judgement screamed at you for doing so. "Fuck," you cursed under your breath, your mind racing.

He was already scanning the room, searching for an escape, but there was none. The only window was too small, useless.

"In there!" a guard shouted just outside.

Panic clawed at your chest.

No time.

Without hesitation, you cupped Yunho's face. His breath hitched, his body tensing at the sudden contact. Wide, startled eyes locked onto yours. If not for the urgency of the situation, you might have laughed at how adorably caught off guard he looked.

"Kiss me," you whispered.

For a split second, the world seemed to pause. Then, he understood.

His arms wrapped around your waist just as you crashed your lips against his, your heart hammering—not just from the approaching guards but from the way he responded so instantly, so intensely. He kissed you back without hesitation.

There was no time to register that this—this was your first kiss together. No time to process the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the way his lips moved with such desperation, as if he had been waiting for this moment longer than he cared to admit.

Instinctively, he spun you around, positioning his body between you and the door just as it burst open.

"You—M-Mr. Lee? What are you still doing here?" the head guard stammered, his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets.

The man had spent the past few months working closely with Yunho, trusting him as their security consultant. And yet, here he was—lips swollen, hair tousled, in a very compromising position with the deputy head psychologist.

You fisted the gang member's shirt as if grounding yourself before snapping, "What do you think he's doing here? You're a man too, can't you see we're busy? What's with all the ruckus anyway?"

Yunho played along perfectly, smirking against your temple before turning to the guard. "Sorry, man," he said smoothly, voice dripping with amusement. "I know this isn't exactly professional, but I promise, it's all consensual. No harm done."

The head guard's face burned at the sight of your smudged lipstick on the man's lips. He paled as realisation hit him like a freight train. He had just walked in on the security consultant and the deputy head psychologist.

"M-My apologies," he stuttered, visibly flustered. He shifted awkwardly, clearly unwilling to explain the real reason for the intrusion—because to do so would mean exposing their own illegal operations. "There's just… been a break-in. We're on the lookout for an intruder. You were right, sir. We do have room for improvement still. I uhh... we can discuss that another time. P-Please continue."

With that, he hastily backed out and shut the door behind him.

Silence fell between you and the Enforcer. Your hands were still pressed against his chest, your lips still tingling from the kiss. And that was when it truly hit you.

That was your first kiss.

Your breath caught in your throat as you hesitantly lifted your gaze to meet Yunho's. His dark eyes studied you, unreadable, but his fingers still lingered on your waist, as if he wasn't quite ready to let go.

Then, a slow smirk curled at the corner of his lips. "Well," he murmured, voice teasing, yet there was something deeper beneath it—something softer. "That was one hell of a cover-up."

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"Ahh, Stefano… how long has it been since you started working with us?" the Chairman of Prestige Asylum mused, his voice smooth as he poured whiskey into two glasses—one for himself and one for the man seated across from him.

The Enforcer leaned back comfortably, one leg crossed over the other, exuding confidence as he flashed an easy grin. "I don't know, Chairman. You tell me. Long enough for you to give me a sizable tip, I hope."

His tone was casual, his expression unreadable, but beneath the mask, he was burning with barely contained disgust. To think this man had once held power, had once been an official of the law. Now, he sat here like a king, oblivious to the empire he was about to lose. If only the world knew the true depth of his depravity.

But Yunho had one final act to play.

The evidence was secured. The truth was waiting to be unveiled. He and Yeosang had delivered everything the night before—a crucial victory after months of deception and danger. But the fight wasn't over. Not until Sato was finished.

And now, as expected, he had been summoned. He knew why.

The break-in.

Yunho wouldn't be surprised if Sato was suspicious of him. After all, his sudden appearance at the compound the night before—coincidentally during the very time the security was breached—was too convenient. Even if he had been "found" in a compromising position with you, the timing was still too perfect.

Or perhaps the Chairman simply needed his expertise. As their trusted security consultant, it was his job to assess their weaknesses—and last night had proven their defences weren't as airtight as they thought. Either way, he was prepared for this.

His brothers were on standby, waiting for his signal. He had assured them he could handle this alone, though San had been tasked with lingering nearby—mostly to keep an eye on you. You were a valuable ally, he had told them. He had promised to repay you with freedom, he had explained. But everyone knew what you truly were to him.

You weren't just a mission to him anymore. You had become something more. Something he didn't even bother denying now.

You had never been a liability, not to him and not to the Black Pirates. And for that, they had accepted you—just as they recently had Seonghwa's new companion, a woman who had proven worthy of a place among them. Perhaps even something more to the eldest than anyone dared to say aloud. But it didn't matter. She had survived hell and clawed her way out, and now, under the Gentleman's guidance, she was becoming something formidable.

Even Mingi had let go of his initial resistance after learning of the horrors she had endured at the Red Room.

Yunho could only hope for the same outcome for himself. For you.

Did you know?

Did you realise you had become his greatest motivation?

He had left you the night before, the photos finally back where they belonged—in your hands. He had watched you stroke your parents' faces through the worn paper, tears welling in your eyes. And before he could stop himself, he had leaned down, pressing a firm kiss to your cheek. Your sharp gasp had made him smirk.

As your head snapped up to meet his gaze, he had only said, "You'll see them again soon. Don't worry." His tone had been light, but the promise was real. And when you had pushed him playfully by the chest, a soft smile breaking through your sadness, he had known.

"I believe you," you had murmured.

And then he was gone.

Now, here he was, sitting across from the man who had orchestrated so much suffering. The moment he had been waiting for. The moment it would all come to an end.

"A tip, you say?"

Sato chuckled, placing the whiskey glass in front of Yunho before taking a slow sip of his own. He didn't sit. Instead, he prowled around the room, his gaze sharp as he studied the younger man. "Not sure you deserve one after messing around with my deputy head psychologist," he mused, his voice light, but his stare calculating.

He leaned down slightly as if to intimidate, but Yunho only smirked, unfazed. He swirled the drink in his hand, meeting the bastard's gaze with a bold glint of amusement.

"Oh, come on, Chairman. A little conflict of interest won't hurt, will it?" he drawled, his tone dripping with mockery. "I'll make sure to take our late-night activities elsewhere next time, hm?" He smirked, watching Sato's lip curl at the deliberate provocation. "Besides, don't we have bigger problems to deal with? Like the break-in?"

Sato's eyes darkened for a split second before he exhaled slowly, strolling back to his chair. "I suppose… as long as my staff remains loyal to me, it doesn't matter who she sleeps with in her free time." His fingers tapped against the desk rhythmically before he fixed Yunho with a pointed look. "So, tell me, what more can we do to prevent such situations from happening again?"

The Enforcer hummed, pretending to think as he glanced down at the swirling amber liquid in his glass. "I do have some ideas," he mused. "But there's just one thing I don't get."

Sato tilted his head. "And what's that?"

Yunho lifted his gaze, his expression carefully blank. "Why someone would risk everything to break into your office. I mean… it's not like you keep money or valuables in there. What could possibly be worth infiltrating such a high-security place?" His tone was innocent, but the gleam in his eyes betrayed the true weight behind his words.

For the first time, the Chairman's fingers twitched. A sharp exhale. A slow lift of his chin. And then—

"Why don't you tell me that, Enforcer of the Black Pirates?"

Silence.

The gang member's expression didn't change, but his grip on the whiskey glass tightened slightly. He looked up at the bastard, his face blank, but inside, he felt the shift in the game.

Sato grinned triumphantly. "Had fun running around with your little friend last night?" he taunted. "Enjoyed what you found? I sure hope your Captain did."

Yunho said nothing.

"Go ahead," Sato continued smoothly, pouring himself another drink. "Enjoy your little victory while you still can. Because before you even think about doing anything heroic—or shall I say foolish—know this." He leaned in, his voice dropping lower. "I have allies everywhere, inside and outside this compound. You're outnumbered."

The taller man nodded slowly, sighing as if in reluctant defeat. "You might be right…"

Sato smirked.

"But," Yunho continued, setting his glass down with a soft clink, "do your 'friends' know what you've really been up to behind the scenes?"

The room tensed.

Sato's expression flickered for just a second.

Yunho leaned forward, his voice soft but lethal. "Would they still protect you if they found out that this so-called 'sanctuary' you've built is nothing but a slaughterhouse? That you've been trapping them, bleeding them dry, taking their money while secretly preparing to harvest their organs like cattle?"

The silence was deafening.

The Chairman stared at him. Then, he burst into laughter. A slow, condescending chuckle that grew into something darker. He downed his whiskey before shaking his head.

"Like you said, Stefano. That's if they knew." He leaned back, exuding confidence once more. "But they don't. And what they don't know can't hurt them." He shrugged. "If anything, they should be grateful I'm putting their otherwise worthless lives to good use. Had it not been for me, they'd be rotting away in prison or dying in the streets. Here, they serve a higher purpose." His lips curled. "Think of it as Prestige's way of cleansing the filth of the underworld."

Yunho scoffed. "Cleansing? That's a pretty word for butchering people alive for profit."

Sato tilted his head. "Call it what you want. No one will believe you. You and your crew? You're the criminals here. Any 'evidence' you claim to have? It can be dismissed as fabrication."

The younger man chuckled, shaking his head. "You sound awfully defensive for someone who isn't worried." Ryoichi Sato's smirk twitched. Yunho leaned back. "It's almost like… you're afraid someone might believe me."

The Chairman intertwined his fingers, exhaling as if growing tired of the conversation. "You're a smart man, Jung. The Black Pirates are one of the top dogs in this world. What good does it do either of us to tear each other down when we could be working together?"

Yunho raised a brow. "And do what? Harvest organs?" He scoffed. "Sorry, not exactly our kind of business."

Sato waved a hand dismissively. "Offer us protection. In return, we'll be generous in our repayment."

Yunho tilted his head. "And if I say no?"

Sato sighed dramatically. Then, he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a file.

A familiar file.

Your staff profile.

He placed it down on the desk, tapping it lightly. "Then you leave me with no choice." He lifted his gaze, his voice soft but sharp as a blade. "Your precious little girlfriend will have to suffer in your stead."

The air in the room changed. For the first time, Yunho's smirk disappeared. He straightened in his seat, his jaw locking. "You won't be able to touch her," he muttered, his voice dangerously low. "She's under our protection."

The Chairman only smiled. "Oh, I know. But I don't have to touch her." He tapped the file again. "She isn't the problem. It's them."

Yunho stilled.

Sato's grin widened. "Her parents, Jung. You see, they may be alive, but they aren't exactly safe. And if I wanted to, I could change that in an instant. The question is… how will she feel when she finds out you were the reason she lost them? Will she still look at you the same? Will she still hold that soft spot for you?" He chuckled. "I wonder…"

The Enforcer's vision blurred red.

With a sharp inhale, he shot up from his seat, grabbing the bastard by the collar and yanking him forward. The Chairman only laughed, his eyes gleaming with twisted amusement.

"So, what do you say, Jung?" he whispered. "Come on. It's a win-win situation. You, your brothers, your girl—all safe. Isn't that great?"

Yunho's fingers clenched tighter. His heart pounded. For the first time since he started this mission—since he took on this dangerous role since he infiltrated this godforsaken place—he felt the stakes in a way he hadn't before. Because now, it wasn't just about taking down Ryoichi Sato and Prestige. It was about you.

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"Well, Stefano? What do you say?"

Sato smirked, thinking he had Yunho trapped. That the weight of his threats—the looming danger over your parents' heads—would be enough to force the Black Pirates' Enforcer into submission.

But Yunho?

He had never been one to kneel.

"How about no?"

The Chairman's expression twisted, his nostrils flaring as he clenched his fists. "No? You'll regret this."

Yunho tilted his head, then let out the laugh he had been holding back for far too long. He bit his lip, shaking his head in amusement before casually dusting off his hands. Then, in a deliberate, lazy motion, he slipped them into his pockets, as if he had all the time in the world.

"Oh, Chairman," he drawled, his tone dripping with mockery. "I don't know about that. But I would like to thank you—for being so transparent with me. It's been an absolute pleasure."

The bastard's brows furrowed, suspicion flashing in his eyes. "What the hell are you—"

Then he noticed it.

Yunho lifted his chin slightly, nodding toward the shelf behind the Chairman. Sato instinctively followed his gaze—

And his heart stopped.

There it was. The broadcasting device.

The one usually kept in the administration office. The one used to make announcements throughout the entire asylum. The one that, somehow, was now here—in his office.

And worse? The light was on.

Every fibre of his being locked up as realisation slammed into him like a freight train. His pupils dilated. His breath caught.

"Fuck."

Yunho smirked. "Oh. So you do get it."

Sato shot up from his chair so fast that it scraped against the floor with a sharp screech. He lunged for the device—

But Yunho was faster.

The Enforcer was already moving, catching the Chairman's wrist mid-air and twisting it with just enough force to make Sato stumble. "Uh-uh," Yunho tsked, shaking his head as he tightened his grip. "Too late, old man."

From beyond the office walls—

Chaos. Shouting. Screaming. The once-calm halls of Prestige were now filled with the furious voices of the criminals who had, just minutes ago, thought they were safe.

And then—

BANG!

A gunshot.

Sato flinched, his head whipping toward the door. The unmistakable crack of shattering glass followed—a riot breaking loose.

"What the fuck have you done?!" Sato roared, his face contorting in fury as he struggled against Yunho's hold. "Do you have any idea what you've just done?!"

Yunho grinned. "Oh, I do. And man, it's even better than I imagined."

The Chairman thrashed in his grip, his entire body trembling with rage. "You bastard—"

"Me?" Yunho scoffed, yanking him back. "I'm not the one who just confessed to butchering his own people on a live fucking broadcast."

Another gunshot. More screaming.

Yunho's expression didn't falter.

Sato, on the other hand—

His face drained of colour.

"You said it yourself," Yunho continued, voice smooth as velvet. "What they don't know won't hurt them." He leaned in, his breath brushing against the older man's ear. "But now they know."

Sato's breath came out ragged. He could feel it now—the weight of all those people turning against him. The same criminals who had once worshipped Prestige, who had paid millions to find sanctuary within its walls, were now out for his blood.

All because of one mistake.

One miscalculation.

His trust in the wrong man.

Yunho finally released him with a rough shove, and Sato staggered back, gripping the edge of his desk for support. His hands shook. His mind raced.

No.

No, this couldn't be happening.

"YOU!" he bellowed, reaching for the gun tucked beneath his desk. But before he could even touch it, Yunho's fist slammed into his face. Sato's head snapped to the side, blood splattering across the desk as he crashed onto the floor, groaning in pain.

Yunho shook out his hand, exhaling. "Ahh..." He flexed his fingers. "Been wanting to do that for so long."

Sato coughed, wiping the blood from his split lip as he glared up at him. "You—"

Before he could finish, a loud boom echoed from outside. The door. Someone—no, several people—were trying to break it down. Sato's breath hitched. "No, no, no—" He scrambled up, only for Yunho to kick him back down with a boot to the chest. "Where do you think you're going, Chairman?"

Sato wheezed. "You don't understand!" His voice was different now—higher, desperate. "You think those animals out there will listen to you?! You need me alive! I'm the only one who can control them!"

Yunho's expression darkened.

"Control them?" He crouched down, gripping Sato's chin in an iron hold. "You mean like cattle? Like livestock?"

Sato swallowed hard.

"You're done, old man," Yunho whispered, voice laced with ice. "And there's nothing you can do to change that now."

Another boom. The door was breaking.

The Chairman panicked. His hands shot out, grabbing onto Yunho's jacket like a drowning man grasping for air. "We can make a deal! I can still—" The office doors burst open. A flood of people—Prestige's betrayed criminals—poured in, weapons drawn, faces twisted in rage.

Sato froze. His heart plummeted as the dozens of eyes locked onto him. Murderous. Hungry. Enraged.

"There he is!" someone snarled.

"You lying piece of shit!"

"You were gonna kill us all?!"

Sato's mouth opened, but this time, there was no audience to listen. No prestige. No power. No escape.

And Yunho?

He simply stepped back, slipping his hands into his pockets once more as he glanced toward the entrance.

There, leaning casually against the doorframe—San. The Tempest smirked, twirling a knife between his fingers. "Told ya," he drawled. "He'd be real popular soon."

Yunho chuckled, looking down at Sato one last time. "Have fun, Chairman." And with that, he turned on his heel—leaving the bastard to the very people he once controlled.

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"Flowers for you, Doctor."

You blinked up from your desk, momentarily distracted from the paperwork stacked before you as your nurse placed a bouquet of bright yellow daffodils in front of you.

A soft breath of surprise left your lips as you sat up, fingertips brushing against the delicate petals. "Who are they from?"

The nurse grinned, leaning in to nudge your shoulder playfully. "Who else? Your mysterious man who drops by once in a while."

Your face grew warm, lips parting in mild protest, but before you could say anything, she winked and poked her tongue out teasingly before slipping out of the office.

With a quiet chuckle, you reached for the small white card nestled within the flowers. The scent of fresh blooms filled your senses as you carefully pulled it free, unfolding the note. The words were written in smooth, precise strokes.

"Congratulations on your new position, doc. A real one this time. I knew you'd make it. - your favourite, JYH"

You bit your lip, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Jung Yunho.

The enigma. The storm that had crashed into your life and, against all odds, saved you. You still weren't sure what exactly you were to him. Neither of you had ever defined it. Perhaps it was better that way. Perhaps he knew better than to drag you into his world, a world far too dark and dangerous for someone like you.

But even if there was nothing more, even if he could never offer you what a normal man could, it was enough. It was enough knowing that he was there. That if you ever needed him, if the shadows of the past ever came creeping back, he would come.

You exhaled softly, standing from your chair to retrieve a vase. As you filled it with water, arranging the daffodils with care, memories of that day—the day Prestige Asylum fell—flooded your mind.

The chaos. The gunfire. The shouts of fury and desperation.

And then him.

Walking towards you through the aftermath like something out of a dream—bloodied knuckles, dirt-streaked skin, and yet—looking every bit like Prince Charming.

"You're free now."

You remembered how his voice had sounded—low, rough with exhaustion, but so sincere as he pulled you into his arms. How his warmth had seeped into you, grounding you, as you clung to him.

How, in that moment, you had believed him.

And you still did.

Because despite the scars Prestige had left, despite the nightmares that still lingered in the corners of your mind, you were free. It had taken time, but you had built something new. You had found a place where you belonged, a purpose that was truly yours.

And he—

He had let you go. Because he had always known you deserved better. But before he left, before he vanished back into the world that had shaped him, he had left you one last thing. A number. A lifeline, tucked into your pocket as he had whispered, "In case you ever need me."

You had never used it.

Not yet.

But as you set the vase on your desk, watching the golden petals sway gently in the light, you found comfort in knowing that, no matter how far he was, he was always within reach.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

ـــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

The dim glow of the desk lamp flickered against the polished mahogany surface, casting elongated shadows across the lavish office. Papers lay scattered in organised chaos, but at the centre of it all was a single, closed file.

The man behind the desk tapped his fingers idly against its surface, his lips curling into a slow, knowing grin.

"Huh," he mused, almost amused. "Yet another empire taken down by the Black Pirates." He flipped the file open again, skimming over the details—the chaos at Prestige, the dramatic reveal, Chairman Ryoichi Sato's downfall.

And at the heart of it all—the Enforcer.

A man as dangerous as he was loyal.

"And yet another weakness secured," the figure murmured, leaning back in his chair. His eyes gleamed with something dark, something hungry. "This is getting a little too easy."

Across from him, his subordinate hesitated before stepping forward, a new file in hand. He swallowed, choosing his words carefully.

"Perhaps, sir," he admitted, carefully placing the next folder on the desk. "But… the Phantom seems to be the only one yet to have any weak spots."

The figure stilled. Then, slowly, he reached for the file, fingers tracing the embossed name on its cover. A spark of intrigue flickered in his gaze as he flipped it open, scanning the neatly compiled information on the most elusive member of the gang.

The corners of his lips twitched. "Does he really not?" he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

Silence.

Then, a dark chuckle.

"Why don't we present him with one?"

Y'all, I'm so sorry this chapter took me like a thousand years! Aside from the fact that work has been crazy, my perfectionism played another huge role in the delay. I'm still not completely pleased with this, but I'm hoping you lovelies would like it more than I did.

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

june 3, 2022 2:00 p.m. newcrest counseling

"i'm really happy to hear you think you worried too much, but what makes you say that? did you feel differently than you expected?"

"i did, actually. as i've figured out over the last week, doing the work to become a healthier person means i know how to better manage negative emotions. i often still default to seeing myself as the person who just falls apart as soon as i feel any emotion less pleasant than neutral. at first, when i was on the plane and then in my hotel room alone, i was battling negative thoughts, but i turned it around pretty quickly. to be honest, that was weird. i'm so used to having to completely lose it before i can recover. recovering at the first very tiny peak in severity is almost a miracle.

finding the good things, however small, to focus on last weekend was what helped me revert my mood and stop feeling icky before icky became horrendous. the negative thoughts on my mind, i redirected to the best of my ability. like, for example, okay, if i never fly an airplane again before i die, i'll just be thrilled i could do it for a few years. a few wonderful years is better than zero years. little kid grant never thought he'd survive past 18, let alone follow his dreams. if time travel were possible and i could go back and tell grant kid he flew an airplane one day, he'd never fucking believe it. so, i already won. nothing can take that away.

on that note, i'm historically not the best at being open to good things or experiences. i'm at least prone closing myself off to relishing them once they're over. i spent so long being lashed by the world with no end in sight that i don't trust goodness, you know? i expect people to get fed up with me or to hurt me. i expect the universe to screw me over. i also believe i don't deserve goodness, and i've thrown away good things myself for that reason alone. i think i'll struggle with those specific thoughts for a very long time, but i do know that i am learning move past them. i'm learning to believe i deserve better and to appreciate things more and to extract what i can from my experiences.

i realized i was moving past those thoughts for the first time after dealing with my ex and then cutting off my dad for the second time, but especially after my dad, and now i'm confirming the changes. i felt like hot garbage for weeks after that final conversation with him because i just did. reminding myself of how truly horrible he was as a father hurt, but after a while, i was glad i told him the truth, and suddenly, i had much more appreciation for the male figures in my life who were or are kind to me. a burden was legitimately lifted off my shoulders, and old me would have never managed to find anything positive in that situation, so the fact that current me did says a lot. if i can find something positive there, i can find something positive anywhere.

but hey, i'm not even getting to the most fulfilling part of why i felt differently than i expected. the wedding was genuinely great, and i ended up wasting no substantial amount of time absorbed in my own feelings, so i got to be present with my friends. even when i was pretending my trauma didn't exist years ago, i spent so much time stuck in my own head or my own body, always filtering every personal conversation through that lens, and you don't get how much energy and attention that soaks up until you can be fully present with people. of course, it helps that i knew all these people and knew i could relax and trust them, but still. it felt good to be able to devote my entire attention to celebrating them and their lives and not have split it between them and my own exhausting thoughts."

[blade-liger-4ever]

Relationship Analysis: Moonwatcher Should Have Gotten Winter Instead of Qibli

Boy, been a while since I did one of these posts, huh?

I know, I'm late to the party. The books have long since ended, and in such a way that I (regrettably) got rid of my favorite one in the franchise, Winter Turning. However, I've had many thoughts about Moon's endgame relationship which, while handled poorly, was not ideal from the beginning at all.

Sit down and prepare yourselves readers, for I have bottled this up for far too long.

The unhealthy relationship with Qibli

This will get many a fan irate, for Qibli was outwardly nothing but kind, loyal, and supportive of Moonwatcher during the second arc. However, despite this disposition, inside, Qibli was an emotionally destroyed dragon - to the point that even in Moon Rising, he literally thought in ways to make people like him.

Now I feel for Qibli. His mother beat him like a drum for the smallest of mistakes, his siblings tried to kill him repeatedly, and for reasons beyond my total understanding of how this fit into the plot because of how poorly executed it was, his grandfather was hoping to groom him as his criminal successor. None of this is good treatment for anyone, fictional or real. However, because this effectively broke Qibli, he was left desperately craving love and validation for his worth as an individual.

I kid you not, it's confirmed in-universe that Thorn unwittingly earned his entire devotion by simply complementing him. One sentence, said in earnest but without much thought to his background - and Qibli would have done anything to keep gaining such affirmations, which he did.

Furthermore, it's not just Thorn's love he wants.

It's that of the world.

Qibli spends the entire books doing everything in his power to do whatever it takes to get love, or even platonic affection, from the dragons around him. If it means being silly or serious, he'll transform into that type of dragon to get it. Even going to Jade Mountain Academy was done because disobeying Thorn would run the risk of losing her affection, which Qibli is desperate to maintain. And when he meets the pretty, naïve to the world Moonwatcher, who has no life experience and wants to see the good in everyone, he falls for her because of a few reasons: one is that he recognizes she won't hurt him, and another is her natural sweetness is something new to him.

So he observes and trails after her like a lost puppy looking for scraps of love to eat.

This is where it gets unhealthy because Qibli, though well-meaning, begins to see her less as an individual dragon with individual worth, and more like a goddess of perfection that he can't live without. No joke, every two chapters of Darkness of Dragons (and not to mention the snippets of his mind we see in Book 6), Qibli does nothing but pine after Moon while bemoaning how he's practically worthless unless she sees value in him, thereby encouraging him to do anything to earn her love. This makes him put Moon on a pedestal of perfection that is above all worldly things and will make him do anything to keep her in the box he's ascribed to her lest she prove she's not all he believes her to be and thus necessitating his reason for living. And because Moon, due to wanting to believe her father figure Darkstalker is actually good and trying to make the world better, basically asks both her admirers to reject reality as she has in order to not grow up and face the truth: that Darkstalker is evil and must be stopped, no matter how personally painful it is.

And as expected, Qibli chooses pleasing her over doing the right thing in this matter because if he denies Moon this, she will not chose him. And he will lose the perfect goddess he envisions and crawl up and die in the desert because, without her validation, he has no reason to do anything but cease living.

This is unhealthy because it traps Moon in a relationship that keeps her from maturing and learning that evil does exist alongside the good in the world. Couples can be silly at times and have fun, but not to the point of regressing into childishness. This is what happens to Moon, and Qibli will never tell her no for fear of losing his perfect deity.

The healthy relationship with Winter.

Yes, Winter was far from kind to Moon in their first few interactions. He threatened her, yes. He yelled at her, yes. He didn't trust her, yes.

But name a time he raised a talon against her. A time where he viewed himself as nothing without her approval.

Additionally, Winter had good reasons for withholding his trust from her. The amount of times Moon hid things from him, unintentionally blindsiding him with this knowledge when he'd thought she'd just proved to be different from other NightWings - how would you react? Be honest, because if a man hid that he was a mind reader and seer from me throughout our friendship, hid that he was on friendly terms with an ancient bane of my people (and who posed a threat to the whole world), I'd have serious issues with him, too.

Now, Winter was abused similarly to Qibli - however, it was mental and emotional abuse, which forced him to grow up and see how their treatment of him, while "normal" among IceWing extremists, was still wrong. He knew this because his friend Lynx was treated well by her lesser noble house, and he recognized quite quickly that even the "evil NightWings" took as much care with their dragonets as any other mother IceWing would. This made him think, and after seeing how genuinely nice and steadfast in her beliefs Moon was, it allowed Winter to become openminded and grow out of his abuse and the views he'd been forced to swallow.

This is made better by the fact that, while his thoughts often drifted toward Moon, he didn't make her the center of his world, or consider breaking his moral principles just to earn her affection. Because at the penultimate moment of dealing with Darkstalker, yes, Winter is rightly traumatized from having his whole personality rewritten (and likely hurt that Moon is uncharacteristically unbothered by this), but he won't please her with rejecting reality. Doing so would mean making a relationship easier, but Winter isn't thinking just about what they could have.

He's thinking about how many lives would be lost if he did so, and how much danger she will put herself in if he agrees.

And despite having that opportunity - that opportunity to have a relationship with Moon, to finally get his heart's desire to be with her - Winter says, "No. It's wrong, and I can't do that, even if it's what you really want."

Winter will not compromise himself and do the wrong thing for her, nor will he allow her to live with the dangerous misconception that the world is full of rainbows and unicorns, that nothing is ever wrong.

This is why Winter is the genuinely healthy choice for Moonwatcher. He seeks not to please the world, to bend to evil, and he does not manipulate in order to gain love. Because while he does have his own craving for love, Winter recognizes that very few people will actually gift him with it. He makes his peace with that, and chooses good over evil because he'd rather lose the world than lose love that he can - and has - lived without.

He won't trap Moon in a fantasy, but help her grow into adulthood and recognition of the beauty and ugliness of the world around them.

(Not my art.)

These are my thoughts on which dragon is worthier of Moon. I hoped you liked it, and that it got some of you thinking.

Take care, and see you in the skies!

[pieflavorpie]

OK so I have thoughts and feelings and a LOTTA them. Here's my list [which is arbitrary and could change tomorrow in all honesty]

1. Percy.

Taliesin put so much love and attention into this character, that it made Caleb & Nott feel cheap to me for a WHILE. Taliesin literally told Sam how guns were constructed in rather extreme detail meanwhile Sam barely used basic chemistry knowledge & Liam was only using the Keen Mind feat instead of taking notes. I had to sit to myself and remind myself that these people each have their own strengths and weaknesses and research clearly wasn't either of those [which probably why I couldn't get into their characters but oh well].

While I'm not on the "Critical Role has to follow writing techniques" train due to the fact I'm into this because it's an unconventional story. But. Percys arc is ridiculously satisfying. I know he was supposed to die, but the entirety of VM being him learning how to cope with [&live with] the grief of his family and all the mistakes he has made. I've never felt prouder in a fictional character than when he talked to his wife instead of calling in on a Devil's deal and selling his soul again. Breaking his cycle. And then the subsequent "i think I wanted to be a clockmaker once" and him choosing a healthy pathway forward!!! It's so rewarding after we see this man break himself into so many pieces continuously, just to find the point he initially broke. He learns that maybe that doesn't matter.

And then there's the actual personality of Percy. That man is a perfect depiction of darkness and pompousness. Able to take the mick of himself sometimes, and able to communicate. Having the rare issue where it wasn't trust issues with other people, but trust issues with himself. He trusted the people around him so much, and had so many lighthearted moments with seemingly no hint of darkness. And it made his Moments hit harder.

2. Mollymauk/Kingsley

Grouping these 2 together as joint 2nd because I view these 2 as intrinsically linked. I can't bring up why I like Molly without mentioning Lucien/Kingsley, and vice versa. I love the analysis of what makes a distinct soul, I love how open the interpretation of what Kingsley IS is. Is he just the rememnants of a severely traumatised & scrappy Mollymauk after spending too much time as the neosomnovum? Is he a different fragment of Luciens soul? Is he a mixture of different parts of Lucien and Molly? Is it fair to say that as Molly IS a part of Lucien?

And the book, oh gods the book. So many things Tal just randomly blurted out that were wrapped in so well. I will never get over Brevyn's kiss to the forehead. "Long may he reign" being a song the tombtakers sang. "Empty" being repeated due to Lucien's worst fear being puppetted just like his brother.

There is not a week i don't spend contemplating what would've happened if we kept Molly. If something would've happened with the Hag, how Vess Derogna would've acted (if we even met her), how he would've impacted the direction the M9 went, or how he would've reacted to the forced amnesia on Rumblecusp, and the subsequent Thing With The Moonweaver at Traveler Con.

And Kingsley, oh how I want Kingsley to be explored more. His 2 episodes in the specials were GREAT. How he is the guy to Get Shit Done, and how he's so button-pushy. I will never forgive the cast [/lh] for pushing him to the side so much. Having him be the only one not mentioned in the BH finale and only talked about above-table to seemingly reduce what Ashton had just been through. It feels like Tal has to force other characters to bring him up outside of "yeah we tried to bring out dead friend back and It Got Weird."

And they don't have the excuse of him being the pirate king either, cause Veth made it canon that Kingsley helped gather Luc when he ran away up north. He is contactable. Im fairly sure Jester said she was in contact with him [like she is with literally everyone I love that girl so much].

Anyway, also love him being a rogue. Go, buddy, get that self confidence.

And also I personally relate to the way identity was talked about during both eras by both of these characters during different parts of my life.

3. Asha

Honestly would be further up but we did not get enough screentime with her to justify that. There are sooooo many ways to interpret this 1 version of the Wildmother and it has kept me thinking for days about the nature of Nature and change and possibility.

She has convinced me to play a druid for my first campaign, a changeling druid who grapples her identity to the nature around her by covering herself with thorns and brambles. All inspired by how Asha only seems to show 2 strong negative emotions besides hunger. Guilt, for the pain her discovery has brought to her family. And anger at her wife for leaving her to face this mission with a substitute. These emotions are what ultimately anchor her to her mortality.

Nature never really feels guilt for the hunt, or anger at the prey. And yet, to us those emotions are perfectly natural. So in this case, where does the domain of Nature stop? Melora/Asha is the goddess of the Wild, so it's probably safe to assume natural human emotions don't come under her purview. But in the grander scheme, are we natural? As human beings? Are the buildings we roost in natural, as they are made from the dirt and mud that are processes made possible from what we had in Nature? Is being a God with Nature as your domain also make you a God of progress and potential?

And isn't that an incredibly interesting concept.

4. Ashton.

Would've been higher than Asha, if he had had a better finale. It felt like he had narrative progress, with people coming to save him as he died, but he came out without much of a change in mindset since The Shard. He literally martyred himself, intending to die for good and no one really bothered to emotionally check in on that afterwards. If he has finished with his martyr complex, I don't think its done through actual help, it feels like it was done because he's realised that his friends will fight through thick and thin to bring him back. But that doesn't mean anything for someone's mental health in a world like this. It could make people feel trapped, or could make them too reckless with the "I'll be fine my friends will get me if I die." Like No?????

And i love his parallels with Laudna, even outside of his probing. They are both stunted beings, perpetually childish. Laudna because she never got the chance to grow up, being ostracised since before the Briarwoods came up and ruined everything [and then Delilah wouldve purposefully kept it that way for Manipulation Purposes]. Ashton because he never really got to be a child. Laudna coped with her loneliness by making a shit ton of dolls. Ashton had never had a doll until Laudna gave him one. And neither of them really get the community they deserve within the group.

I think the best example of this with Laudna is Swordgate. Marisha said on 4sd that Laudna was upset about Orym using the sword anyway, and then Delilah got into her head. I was also immediately off put by Orym using the sword due to the fact it had killed so many of the Bells Hells and had literally sent Laudna to her own personal hell for an indetermined amount of time for her. A sword does not have to be possessed to be Evil. But it was the fact that noone responded to her actual, valid reasons it was all pretty much the message of "you can't be trusted, this is all Delilahs machinations" like WHAT. Which, mini tangent here, i feel like is why I also prefer VM to BH because it seems like BH had so many completely impossible moral quandries that they seemed to completely dismiss the complexities of their own friends situations after 1 conversation. I feel like they should've had a few more [and I mean only like 2] sessions that was just BH getting to be a mercenary group because for like 100 flat episodes they were Not A Mercenary Group. Maybe getting to explore Marquet a lil more.

Anyway, tangent over. I just think its sad Laudna got dismissed due to her being manipulated and Ashton often got dismissed because of his brash attitude and low Charisma. Before the Solsitice he was continuously getting drunk and even said he'd started shouting at seemingly nothing and no one bothered to explore it. Besides Laudna. Anyway.

Love the concept that Being Broken isn't a wrong thing to say. Most of the time it's all like "oh no don't say that!!! You're wonderful!" But no this guy is just fundamentally and mechanically broken. They are someone who's had to be reformed so many times that some pieces just don't fit anymore, and there's nothing to replace them. And maybe you don't have to be a rock guy who was literally shattered to have that. I personally relate in all those times that I failed tests as a gifted kid that, upon reforming myself afterwards, I lost the piece of me that cared about working. Later, being shattered as I'm told by my college that I'm flagged for undiagnosed ASD and need 25% extra time and loosing that part of me that felt I could trust adults to understand me. But it's not always bad. I felt part of me break away when me and my friends turned 18, and we went out and I realised I didn't have to treat my friends like glass physically. That i could hold them and hug them and they will reciprocate.

And I think where the term "broken" comes into play is when you actively start to grieve those parts. In BH we watch Ashton mourn the ability to trust. Idk. I hope we see more of him in future.

5. Caduceus.

Look, I love Cad, I just also love every other Tal character I've seen. And Cad just narratively and as a complex character comes up that little bit short to me. I love watching his clips. But the rants I did about the others' themes and how they get me to think? I don't get that with Cad so much. I get him, honestly I do. I love him repping the aroaces in that wonderful gossipy way. I love how he only ever silently panics and won't call attention to himself [I only realised how much of myself I saw in him in that moment when they stole a ship and I was like "...oh."]. I love how he canonically did drugs just to try and connect with what felt like a dying connection between him and his God [again something that wasn't really touched on but Holy Shit]. I love how he only apologised for being weak when he asked his Goddess whether his family was OK. He does have depth. Depth that never seems to be taken much deeper than surface level with the Nein and I can honestly only hope that Cad and Kingsley are treating each other well cause they really both need somebody on the outside to Talk To.

I don't actually Know the other 2. So this is it:)

[rekino2114]

I've got a few Lacey requests, if you don't mind! Could you do either: 6. or 20. for Jay with a male reader 12. for Lacey with an equally insecure transfemme reader. You can do any or none of them if you like! Thank you for considering!

Jay being your secret admirer

Pairing:Jay x male reader

A/n:Sorry, I don't write for trans readers just because I'm not trans myself and don't think I could write them well. Hope you still enjoy this. Also, I did this because I wanted to start writing for Jay and Maisie too to celebrate the lacey games trailer. Also, all of my lacey posts will take place in the same au where all of the main girls are dating their own version of y/n cause they need love.

Lately, you've been receiving some weird things on your doorstep. It's nothing creepy, quite the opposite, in fact, it's very romantic things.

It's mostly love letters in which the mysterious sender writes about how much they admire you and love everything about you. They describe everything about you in details and compliments.

The letters are always signed "your secret admirer" and are often accompanied by flowers, your favorite type nonetheless.

While the content isn't creepy in on itself, the fact that your dear friend Lacey had a similar experience with a stalker, which she thankfully managed to get out of, made you uneasy to accept the letters as actual love notes so you decided to talk to your friends about it.

"You have a secret admirer? Dude That's so cool"

"Is it? It kinda makes me uncomfortable"

"O-oh does it?"

"Yeah i mean, remember what happened to Lacey?"

"......yeah"

"It's not that bad, thankfully but still"

"Don't worry if you're ever in danger just tell us, we can help you"

"Thanks girls, you're the best"

"Don't mention it, it's the least we could do"

You all fist bumped each other and then you started talking with Jay, which seemed uncharacteristically nervous

"Hey Jay, wanna go skating today I know-"

"N-no it's fine I'll just hang out with Lacey and Maisie"

You looked at her a bit suspiciously but shrugged and left, saying goodbye to everyone. Jay breathed a sigh of relief seeing you go away, since she probably couldn't have kept a straight face anymore around her crush, but quickly got worried again as she saw her friends approaching her with teasing smirks on their faces

"Soooo when are you gonna tell him?"

"Eh? W-what are you talking about dude, I don't have to tell h-him a-anything"

"..............."

".....is it that obvious?"

"I mean........."

"It's a miracle he didn't find out yet"

".....y-yeah"

"Why didn't you just confess?"

"You have any idea how hard it is? I was sweating just writing the letter"

"But why? I'm sure he loves you too, you two basically always hang out"

"I don't think so, he probably thinks of me as just a friend"

"Why do you think so?"

"I mean I'm not girly like you two I don't think he-"

"Stop it there, Jay, you're amazing in your own way, and if y/n really loved you, then he'll do it because of who you are"

"Oh.....thanks lacey...i-i didn't expect you to say that"

"O-oh thank you, m-my partner says stuff like these all the time to me so......it just stuck I guess"

"Well did you hear her? Go and get your man, it's even valentine's day so it's perfect"

"Yeah! Thanks dudes!"

Jay said goodbye to her friends and quickly skated away to pick up another bouquet of your favorite flowers and one of the letters she had already written, then rang the doorbell to your house and took a deep breath to calm herself as she saw the door opening

"Hm? Jay? What's with......the....flowers"

"Hey dude, i-i mean y/n, so yeah I'm your secret admirer, please don't think I'm weird I wasn't stalking you or anything I just really know your face, a-and was too scared to confess. I want you to know that everything I said in the letters was true, I really, really like you.....a-and so....wanna be my boyfriend?"

"......I'd love to"

".....wait seriously?"

"Of course, I love you too Jay, I never confessed cause I thought you only thought of me as a friend"

"Really dude!? Me too! I thought I was way too boyish to be your type"

"What are you saying? I love tomboys and you especially"

"Really?"

"Yeah, you're so cool, I love how boyish you are if anything, it makes you special and so I love that"

"W-wow that's great! So are we like a thing or something now?"

You smiled and hugged her, making her blush, then proceeded to kiss her on the lips. She loved your lips so much that she couldn't help but feel disappointed when you pulled back

"Does that answer your question?"

"D-definitely"

"OK so now wanna go skate? As a couple"

"Sure thing dude! I bet it feels so much better than skating as just friends"

"I'm sure it does"

[esamastation]

Gamer girl gets transmigrated into a farm boy Chapter 5 [<<Prologue | <Chapter 4 || Chapter 6>>] Ao3 link

-

The rest of the day goes by much the same way it did in the game. They make their way back to the farm, where Van helps Mr. Gylcross unload his purchases and carry some of them to the barn and the rest into the house. Janelle welcomes them with a warm meal and freshly made batch of apple juice, made from, "Apples I picked myself just this afternoon!" as she says. It's delicious.

"What did you buy in town?" Josel asks as they eat.

"Nothing much," Van answers, and ain't that the truth. "Mostly I just looked around, took in the sights."

Josel hums. "Yeah, you haven't been to the town a lot, have you?"

"I guess not," Van agrees, thinking back to the player character's messy background as a hand on the Gylcross farm, and how it might be revealed here - if it even was.

"How did you like it? Did you see anything interesting in town?" Janelle asks curiously.

"It was fine. It was all pretty interesting," Van admits and takes a bite of bread, wondering if she made it herself.

The System journal had updated while he'd been in town, and going by its writing, it was the most amazing thing ever to happen to Katie. Most of the journal entry was her detailing every event that happened, but there were some interesting titbits in between, which Van had noticed but not really thought about at the time.

… Oh my god, the town looks exactly like it did in the game! Only now I'm seeing it all in first person! It's so wild. There's so much more people here than there were in the game, too - probably since the limits of rendering capacity have been thrown out of the window. Real world isn't held back by RAM. Hah.

Also? Kids. There are children here - and not just one-age-fits-all like in some games, no, there's older teenagers and younger teenagers, and I also saw a toddler in the marketplace - and I think one woman had a baby in a sling? A baby! Definitely didn't have any of those in the base game - not a single kid to be had in all of Age of Tales, except in pre-rendered cutscenes. I wonder if it's just for humans, or will we get to see dwarf or elf babies - I've never seen a dwarf baby, ever, in anything I've ever seen or played. Probably not elf either, unless it was like a half-human-half-elf situation brought forth by an illicit cross-species love story.

I wonder if Van can have babies - like, conceive them? I mean, there's romance in Age of Tales, such as it is. There's sex scenes and stuff. Can those now have, like, consequences? Does this world have contraceptives? Is that something that I have to now think about?

Van with a baby would be pretty cute, though. I wonder if I can somehow get him to hold a baby…

And that's where Van had to stop reading in order to preserve the delicate equilibrium of his mental stability.

"There were a lot of people in town," he concludes with a cough to clear his throat, and takes another sip of the apple juice.

Janelle gives him a sympathetic look. "Yeah, it's a bit different from how it's around here, huh?" she says and pats him on the shoulder. "I'm glad you had fun."

"Yeah," Van agrees.

By now he's kind of starting to feel the limits of Katie's social meter, though. She'd never been a particularly extroverted person, and while it's different inside a videogame… this isn't a game, not really. It's been a whole day of interacting with people and trying to figure things out, and Van is feeling mentally kind of worn down.

Plus, he's got an existential crisis scheduled up, and it's starting to feel kind of urgent.

"You mind if I turn in for the day, sir?" Van asks once he's done eating, turning to Mr. Gylcross. "I'm kind of tired."

"Of course, my boy. Just get Bell settled in for the night and get the cart in the barn," Mr. Gylcross says.

Thankfully, Josel has apparently done all other farm-related duties off screen. All Van has left to do is get the cart inside and Bell brushed up, fed, and settled in a stall, all of which happens by automation. Josel, who's got a more permanent berth in a little hutch next to the farmhouse, bids Van good night, and with some relief Van heads up to the hayloft.

There he lays down in the hay, mentally preparing to Think About Things and Handle Them… only to find his mind full of static. He needs to deal with the Realisation and he needs to come up with a plan for tomorrow, because there's a lot coming his way tomorrow.

And yet, even though he lies there for a while, staring at the ceiling, not a single coherent plan comes to mind.

Finally, Van gets up again and goes back down to get a bucket of water. It's not quite as good as a real mirror, but in a pinch…

His reflection is very faint on the water's surface, but he can just about see himself and make out his features. The caramel ice-cream hair is really not looking its best. It's curly in the game, kind of fabulous in a way that doesn't fit Van's body type at all - here it sticks every which way, unkempt and not exactly flattering.

No permanent magical hairstyling in real life, huh.

Combing his fingers through his hair to push it away from his face, Van turns his head this way and that, taking in his features again. The jaw, the cheekbones, the forehead - he really looks like he was drawn by a comic book artist. Except made real. 

He's really - Katie is really in Van's body. This is Van, made flesh and blood. Well, he doesn't actually know if the body can bleed, but it probably does. It gets hungry and thirsty. And, judging by the feel of things right now, it also needs to relieve itself. Which is… another thing he hadn't been thinking about.

Sitting on his knees for a moment, Van weighs the oncoming mental health crisis against probably mortifying body function weirdness and chooses the latter, standing up. Time for a true fantasy adventure - figuring out how men piss.

Delightful.

Though as a man he should be able to go wherever - so long as he wasn't flashing someone, anyway - seeing as this is the first time and Katie only sort of knows what she's doing… yeah, some privacy is called for. There's a wooden outhouse behind the farmhouse, which Van slinks his way to like he's doing something wrong and illicit. The outhouse is pretty small and forces him to bend over, and it's overall very awkward. It stinks. The seat is tiny and looks kind of uncomfortable to actually sit on.

Katie has a feeling she's going to miss Earth's modern day plumbing before long.

Right now she has other concerns, though.

Van takes a deep breath - and then regrets it, because of the outhouse smell - before looking down. The trousers are easy enough to figure out, they're basically normal trousers except fastened with a string instead of zipper. The underwear, not so much. While Katie has seen it before and actually spent quite a bit of time trying to figure it out, seeing it on Van now…

It's a kind of cloth wrap thing, like the whole thing is one long stretch of fabric wrapped around the waist and down. The final effect is not unlike briefs, and it's actually kind of comfortable and it definitely keeps everything contained… but if Van takes it off, he will definitely not be able to put it back on again.

Hm, maybe he can, sort of… move it aside…?

Touching it is a bit weird. Katie does a little gibbering flailing thing in the back of his mind while Van tugs at the fabric, feeling all the stuff beneath shift - feeling all the stuff feel the movement. It's weird - having sensations in bits Katie never had before. 

Kind of cool though, too. In a sort of unreal way.

Van gets his fingers beneath to pull his penis out and then… there it is, sticking out past the cloth, with its two buddies still nestled in the wrapping.

It would probably be inappropriate to call it a tool. It kind of fits, though. It's very… proportional. 

And Katie is suddenly very aware of her long stint as a single woman, because damn. Like, she's never been that into the look or size of a guy's dick - a penis is a penis, they're all kind of the same in the end - but damn. Van has one hell of a dick. Like, Katie probably wouldn't want to have sex with Van, because ouch… but damn.

"Okay, don't play with it, just do your business," Van mutters, thinking back to Katie's stint in the kindergarten and wincing at the memory of potty training. As extremely unsexy thought as there ever was, he thinks with a grimace and then attempts to… manoeuvre himself into position. "Just point and aim."

It's weird, and very… fleshy. But at least the rest of the operation is roughly the same for a man as it is for a woman - bladder is a bladder, apparently. It's still weird - as is not needing to wipe afterwards. It doesn't feel like it's enough, to just shake it. Not that there's anything to wipe with in the outhouse.

"Weird, weird, this is so weird," Van mutters, shaking himself and then quickly tucking the weapon away.

There's nowhere to wash his hands afterwards.

"Great," he mutters and then slinks back to the barn where he sleeps at night. His mirror water turns into hand washing water, and he still feels a bit dirty afterwards. He's hyperaware of what's going down below the belt, all of a sudden. Also, maybe getting a bit hard? Is it really that damn easy to get riled up as a man? Van's not even thinking of anything sexy, and apparently it's going up on its own. What the hell?

Climbing up to the hayloft, Van lies down and tries to not think about his dick. He's got an existential crisis on his hands. Woman stuck in a man's body here. This is no time for any kind of self-inflicted fun times. He needs to experience the horrors of being not in a body of his own. Her own. Whatever. Body dysmorphia, here we go!

Yeah, no, apparently not. His mind keeps slipping downwards along with the blood pooling there, as though the damn thing has a gravity of its own. He can feel his penis straining his underwear - taking it out, putting his hand around it, it would feel… probably pretty good right now. And it's not like Katie doesn't want to - like she hasn't been curious what it was like, how it would work. Porn and smut painted a pretty vivid image, of course, but nothing beats hands on experience.

Mmm, hands on…

Van stares at the ceiling for a long moment, biting his lip. There's no one in this end of the barn but him. The Gylcrosses are in their house, Josel is off in his little hutch… there's no one here. No one but him.

… Right, okay. Fine.

With a grunt Van gets up to find a rag or something.

It would clear his head too, probably, if all the post nut clarity memes are to be believed. He would have his existential crisis with a clear mind afterwards.

-

Katie wakes up the next morning to the cock crowing somewhere outside and has a moment of flailing confusion at the feel of all the hay around her and sight of the wooden ceiling and beams above her head… before everything comes back.

Right. She's still here. She's transmigrated into Van and to the very start of Age of Tales. And it's now day two.

"Shit," Van murmurs, running a hand down his face. His chin feels bristly - apparently that's a yes on the needing to shave going forward, if he wants to keep Van's chiselled chin in view. Which is probably not all that important, considering that, well…

Tonight, the plot would finally kick off in earnest.

Breathing in and out for a moment, Van lets his arm drop to his side. He hadn't even thought of what he would do, beyond the usual. Even with all the dramatic consequences, the Rift opening was still part of the tutorial, and so all the enemies were pretty low level. The character was meant to run, of course - at this point there was not much they were supposed to be able to do against them.

Emphasis on the supposed. This is, however, Age of Tales.

The whole tutorial section is a bit… Well, overall, Katie gets it - the whole point of the tutorial section is to paint the illusion of peaceful normalcy and introduce the player to the base mechanics and the NPC shops before the plot can kick off and burn the whole idyllic place to the ground for shock value. The first time Katie went through it, it was pretty epic, overall.

But giving the players the chance to shop before the fight was kind of dumb.

Because, while the game didn't get that popular, it had some players, and just about everyone who did play it went about the tutorial the same way. They gambled for cash and kitted themselves out as best they could as soon as they could… and in so doing, turned the whole Rift thing into a bit of a joke by actually standing up against the invasion, something they plot-wise weren't supposed to be able to do. And most of them didn't even realise it, breaking the game completely by accident.

And when you went about it perfectly intentionally, well… the Rift stopped being a threat at all and became the perfect spawn kill camp.

That was what Van had been planning to do - until reality nerfed Katie's money-making tricks.

"System, open inventory," Van calls.

[Inventory] [Simple Knife, lvl. 1] [Shepherd's Slingshot, lvl. 1] [14 x Basic Stone Ammunition ] [3 x Spearhead] [1 x Apple] [Empty Jug] [Dirty Rag]

Yeah, not exactly winning starter gear, especially considering that he still doesn't have a single shred of proper armour. He hasn't been this poorly prepared for the Rift since the very first playthrough - and even then he at least had some armour and a sword! Reality is really kicking his ass this time.

He can't figure out if it's frustrating or exciting. Probably the first one.

"Guess I'm making some spears," Van muses and then sits up with a grunt. Finger-combing the hay out of his hair, Van eyes the dirty rag and then winces. He would need to get rid of it, and maybe he could wash up somewhere before getting started. Unfortunately, he doesn't think there's a washroom or anything around here…

[Farm Chores, Lvl. 1.] [It's a new day on Gylcross farm, and it's time to get to work!]

[Farm Chores 1, Lvl. 1.] [Let the chickens out.] [Let the goats out.] [Let the cows out.] [Let Bell out.] [Quest reward:  10 exp, 3 Apples.] [Farm Chores 2, Lvl. 1.] [Muck the pens and stalls.] [Quest reward:  10 exp, 5 Fresh Eggs.] [Farm Chores 3, Lvl. 1.] [Take a look at the garden and weed Ms. Janelle's vegetable beds.] [Quest reward:  10 exp, 4 x Mixed Herbs] [Farm Chores 4, Lvl. 1.] [Milk the goats and the cows.] [Quest reward:  2 exp, 1 Bottle of Milk.] [Accept?] [Yes.] [No.]

Van winces a little at the sudden bombardment of pop-ups. Looks like he has some work to do. How much it all will matter when this time tomorrow the farm will be in ruins aside… exp is exp. And if he could squeeze in another level up before the Rift, it definitely wouldn't hurt.

Standing up - and bending over to duck below the ceiling beams - Van shuffles to the ladder to start the day with a quick rinse in a bucket of cold water.

By the time he heads out of the barn, Janelle has breakfast ready and set in front of the farmhouse. "Good morning, Van!" she calls, waving. "Come have some eggs and pancakes!"

Josel is already there and already stuffing his face with eggs. "Good morning," Van greets them both and then asks, interestedly, "Pancakes?"

"Yeah - Daddy bought flour and sugar yesterday!" Janelle says excitedly. "We've got some honey too - come here and try it."

Van does, sitting down beside Josel, accepting his share with a, "Thank you, miss." It looks great, and it smells even better.

"It's Janelle," the farmer's daughter says firmly and sits down across from him.

The breakfast is great, as are the pancakes. Mr. Gylcross doesn't make an appearance, but no one comments on it, and so Van doesn't either - maybe the man sleeps in when it's not a market day, or something. After they're done eating, Josel helps Janelle clear out the table, while Van considers his quests.

"Are you going to let the animals out?" Janelle asks, wiping her hands in her apron. "I'll come with you - I'll collect the eggs while I'm at it."

"Sure," Van agrees and offers Josel an apologetic nod before following Janelle towards the chicken coops.

It's a perfectly pleasant day, with only a few fluffy clouds in the sky and just the barest hint of a breeze in the air. The sort of day when nothing bad is supposed to happen, of course. Perfectly normal day.

"Daddy says you visited the tailor yesterday," Janelle comments. "That you ordered some kind of armour."

Van blinks and looks at her. "Uh, I didn't realise he knew about that," he says. The man hadn't mentioned it. How did he find out, anyway? "I did, yeah."

"Why?"

Well, there's going to be a battle in Westbrook the day after tomorrow, and then the place is going to be set on fire, and Valthor's most annoying minion is going to make a grand appearance. Van is really hoping to curbstomp that guy's smug little face to the ground, and armour would make that much, much easier. "Well," he says, because clearly he can't say any of that. "I don't know. Just felt like it, I guess?"

Janelle looks at him carefully, and asks, "Have you… remembered something?" she asks. "About your past?"

Van hesitates, because in the game the player character never remembers time before the farm - but he does learn about it from others. "No, not really," he says finally. "I just… have a feeling I'm going to need something. Actually," he adds and takes a spearhead out of the satchel. "I also got a few of these."

Janelle accepts the dull spearhead, tilting her head with confusion. "Is that a weapon?"

"Head of a spear - I'm going to find some pole to stick it on," Van says and shrugs. "And then I'll have a spear."

Janelle shakes her head, looking a little upset. "But what do you need a spear for?" she asks.

Van shrugs again. "I don't know. It just feels like something I should have."

Janelle hums unhappily, turning the spearhead in her hand. "So, I was right," she murmurs and looks at him sadly. "You are a soldier."

In the game you learn the main character's background in flashbacks and  hints from the designated Mentor character at Ulgor's Camp, but it's a pretty cliché dealio overall. The player character has amnesia - of course - and was left at the Gylcross farm by a Mysterious Hooded Person - of course - while the Mysterious Hooded Person ran away all suspicious-like. Janelle Gylcross eventually found the player character hiding in the barn hayloft, all confused and out of it and bleeding from the head. Through some interrogation and arguing with her father, Janelle got him settled in as a new farm hand.

It's all shown to the player in this grainy sepia cut scene, a collage of moments as the player character learns how to swing a hoe and milk the cows and stuff. It's pretty wholesome. And the fact that it's shown to you only after the farm has been burned down and everyone there was killed, well… Katie has some issues with the arrangement of narrative there, but it was kind of a punch to the gut, the first time she played the game.

Also absolutely hilarious, watching this brick shithouse of a man do these cute farm chores, like carrying baby lambs around, delicately harvesting berries from the bushes and weeding garden beds.

"I'm not a soldier," Van says and accepts the spearhead back. "I just feel like it'll be better to be prepared than not."

"Right," Janelle says and hugs herself, looking uncomfortable. "Are you going to leave the farm? I know Daddy only contracted you until the harvest, but… I thought you liked it here."

"Well… it is nice," Van says. And it really is. He looks at the farmstead around them and hums thoughtfully. It's very peaceful and idyllic and wholesome. In the game it's often implied how much the player character wishes he could've stayed there, wishes none of the terrible things that followed wouldn't have happened, and the world could've stayed as it was.

More than another day of it and Katie would be climbing the walls, bored out of his mind.

"I guess we'll see," Van says and smiles at Janelle. "You never know what will happen."

-

[<<Prologue | <Chapter 4 || Chapter 6>>] Proofread by @nimadge, many thanks

-

I call this the Tool Inspection Chapter. And I hope it made at least one person laugh as much as it made me to write it.

[asksnowton]

*tap tap*

is this thing on?

It's been a while, huh?

(Chit chat under the cut)

How have you all been?

Are any of you still here?

Still interested in the story I want to share?

I've been pushing it off for so long

But I do want to continue this.

Sorry it's been so long.

Life has really been hectic. That's all I can say, really. (Along with. I've just had other interests I wanted to explore)

I got compelled to draw this au again, because I've been showing my friend Deltarune for the first time.

Really unlocked some memories and hidden motivation.

So, lemme explain the thought behind some of this miscellaneous doodles.

1: Banner. Our favorite snow hoe.

2 & 3: redesigning Vey's outfit. The outfit themes for this au are wintery, so every unique au outfit has fur in it. Couldn't think of a way to incorporate this with Vey while speaking to their laziness AND their job as a fashion designer, so at first I gave them a hoodie and called it a day. BUT while brainstorming, I realized bathrobes can be fluffy, AND elegant, while at the same time signalling that Vey hasn't gotten out of bed/put much effort into their appearance.

Sorry for the long ramble on these two, I'm really into design and stuff, and their design was bugging me for a LONG time and I FINALLY figured out how to tackle it in a way I like.

In future drawings I'm probably gonna have the robe drape a bit more though. Like a semi-train of that makes sense

4-6: Vi ice-skating. I've become really attached to the idea of Snow au Vi doing this. It fits her. Elegant, cold.

7&8: So. This is gonna seem random (cause it is) but Vi x Tasque Manager has been a ship in my mind for almost as long as Vi has been introduced to the blog? I never could figure out a way to incorporate it organically though, so it never happened. Dunno if it will ever happen. But they mean a lot to me so I decided to share the them. Ig it's up to you guys if you wanna see them get together sometime. So lmk your thoughts on that.

9. Tasque Manager and Swatch friendship. She is so concerned. She thought that little man was dead. And she does not like the fact that Swatch is sacrificing so much of their mental health to care for him. Potential boss battle.

10. Ice Jevil. This has been his design concept for quite some time but I think I can do better. I've been trying not to show this au's Jevil, I've been wanting to keep him a super secret... But I think everyone knows he's here already lol.

As long as I don't spill anything story wise, I figured there's no harm in showing him y'know.

So behold.

The boy!!!

Uh yeah

That's it I think.

I might get to doodling more story stuff.

After years of struggling mentally, I think I'm ready.

See ya when I see ya

Love you guys fr fr

[glitchy-npc]

Jumpscare

Series: Fallen Hero Pairing:@dogueteeth-fhr Cerrisa "Beck" Becerra(they/them)/Tegan Wells (he/him) Tegan's POV. Warnings: none Word count: 1339

Los Diablos is almost pretty at night. It’s mostly the lights, the glow softening all the dirty, ugly aspects of the city that can’t hide in broad daylight. Not that the nights are innocent, far from it, but the distracting lights and the deeper shadows they create make it easier for the kind of work I do.  It’s messy, violent work but it's the only skill set I have, villainy isn’t that different from vigilantism at all. Or worse, what I did before. At least now I get to pick my targets.

I shift my weight to the other foot and flex my hands, the armored plates of my gauntlets gliding smoothly with the motion. The armor has practically become a second skin. How did I ever survive all those years ago, running around in a fucking skinsuit and jacket? 

Oh right, I didn’t.

Sidestep had to die so Retribution could be born, or some poetic shit like that. My mind always wanders when I’m stuck waiting.   

I’m waiting for Beck, or rather Heartbreak since we’re on a job. It's not that they’re late, I’m just early. I can chalk it up to post mission nerves, but really I just want to see them. 

I shift back to the other foot and cross my arms, trying to go over mission details but it’s hard to focus. I don’t even know what their armor looks like, this is the first time we’ve met for work. Every other time it had been hangouts that turned into drinks that turned into…ok I’m really distracted. Focus, idiot. 

I don’t have to wait much longer before I feel the growingly familiar brush of Beck's mind as they approach. 

“Good timing, I almost left without you.” I say without turning around. Their chuckle, muffled by their helmet, confirms what my telepathy already told me. It’s handy like that, always knowing who is behind you.

There are some blind spots though.

I turn to face them, we need to go over the plan one more time.

“So, we need to - JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.” The swear is torn from my throat almost before I have time to think it but my heart is racing somewhere around my eardrums.

Heartbreak spins around reflexively, their mind lighting up as they search for the potential threat. “What, what is it!?” 

“No, no, it's nothing, I just…” I try to return my heartbeat to normal and to think of anything that isn’t the truth.

Heartbreak’s armor is terrifying. 

They turn back towards me and staring at that helmet isn’t any better than the first time. They place a hand on their hip and tilt their head to the side, the gesture a twisted combination of sass and nightmare fuel.

“Something wrong?” Their question is light but the vocal distorters are not doing me any favors. 

“No just…nice design choice.” It's anything but nice but what do I know? 

“Don’t tell me you got scared?” Their tone is teasing.

“No.” I lie. “But you could have warned me.” I should be getting used to it by now but it's still so disconnected with how I usually see Beck – warm brown skin and scar tissue and the smiles they try to hide from me while I pretend I’m not looking. It still feels like Beck, mentally, but how can I be sure? Maybe it's someone else, someone with super telepathy, making me feel like it's them when they’re not.

“I don’t have super telepathy.” They laugh, derailing my train of thought. Right, they still have the normal kind and I’m an idiot. “You know it's me Tegan.

“Do I?” I ask, closing the gap between us. “Maybe you should take off the helmet and show me?” And maybe I can regain a sliver of my dignity if I pretend to be smooth.

“Hm. You first.” Of course their response is a challenge but it's an easy one.

It takes only a second to find the connection panel of my armor's face plate and remove it. I've spent so much time tinkering with this armor I know every bit by heart and muscle memory. I blink a few times to adjust my vision.

“Ok, now do me.”

I can’t help the cough I try to pass off as a laugh, there’s no way they didn’t phrase it like that on purpose. Little shit. 

“You want me to take your helmet off?” 

“I mean, unless you don’t think you can figure it out…” Their voice trails off, another challenge and a harder one this time but there's no way I could back down from something like that.

“Oh I can figure it out, just give me a minute.” 

It's getting easier to look at the helmet this close, though the design is meant to intimidate and inspire fear it's still just plasteel, paint and carbon fiber. Those I can deal with. I try to keep my face straight as I glide my armored fingers over the jaw portion of the skull, despite the teeth it seems to be one solid piece, no seams that I can see but then again Dr. Mortums work is flawless. 

Heatbreak stands stock still as my fingers work their way over the hands and I swear they’re the worst fucking part, I don’t want to know why Beck chose them as part of the design. I could guess, but I don’t like that line of thought either. I tuck the faceplate of my own armor under my arm and with both my hands on either side of their helmet it feels intimate in a way that's hard to process, I just hope it doesn’t show on my face. Though I can’t see their eyes I know they must be looking at me. There's a vulnerability to it, my face bare, while theirs remains concealed. But its a small price to pay, not like the blow to my pride that will be if I can’t figure this fucking – oh. There's a small panel, tucked behind the hands and concealed by the hood. I press it, rewarded by the familiar hiss of depressurised oxygen. The top and jaw portion come away in my hands.

Beck's handsome face smirks back at me, cheeks flushed and green eyes glinting even in the semi darkness. 

“Told you I could figure it out, now what do I wi-”

Beck kisses me before I can finish. It's not the first time, not by a long shot but it’s still exciting. If I had my faceplate on the interface would show my elevated heart rate for the second time tonight. How many years did I spend thinking I could never have something like this? That anyone would want to kiss me, or enjoy it? And from Beck's little hum against my lips, I can tell they enjoy it. 

If my hands weren’t holding pieces of armor they’d be around them in a second but it's their weight that reminds me we're here for a reason.

“We…” I start, breaking the kiss and hating myself for it. “We do have a job to do.”

“True.” They sigh as I hand their helmet back to them. “Doesn't mean we can’t think about what to do when the job’s done.” They reaffix their helmet and suddenly it's not half as terrifying as I thought it was. 

“I have a few ideas.” The distorters drop my voice a few octaves as I reaffix the faceplate to my own helmet.

“Then let's get this done and you can tell me all about it.” They saunter past me and I’m forced to turn and follow them.  

“Count on it.” I never could let anyone else get the last word in. A bad habit, I know. As bad as daydreaming about “after” when I should focus on the mission. And I will, once the adrenaline kicks in I can focus on the fight and nothing else. But until then I just keep coming up with ideas that make me grateful my helmet hides my blush.

[live-laugh-lenney]

feeling ###nosy if you feel like telling what are your current works in progress 👀

i'll give you a few sneak peeks below of some current wips! hoping to get these out as soon as possible; some are just taking a bit longer than others to work through. <33

as well as getting locked in posted, i've got another lengthy arthurtv fic started off, in the early stages (and i've left a sneaky peek down below here) where the reader is george's best friend and falls in love with arthur so i'm excited for that one to take off!

a lot has been started so hopefully they'll be with you soon but enjoy these sneak peeks! the prompts are in bold and italics! x

George was having a terrible day (for any reason) and he’s down and gloomy about it, but the reader (a friend of his) takes care of him and makes sure he’s okay and long story short they fall in love and end up doing it on his couch while Arthur and Chris are away.

"don't be mad at me."

silence.

"yn, please."

he caught the lingering side-eye that she gave him and a smirk toyed at his lips.

"i'll get on my knees and beg if i have to," he states and the hollow of her cheek became a dimple as she chewed on the flesh inside her mouth, "oh, i see how it is. you want me to beg, don't you?"

the cushions move beside her and she's jostled around as he stands himself up from the sofa and, suddenly, a wave of cool air replaces the heat from his body that he emitted. the television being hidden behind his body and he adjusted the t-shirt that had ridden up his body and had become untucked from his jeans. and she really can't look away from him when he's kneeling before her.

she tries to keep the annoyed look on her face... except... it was hard when he knelt down in front of her, hands flat on her thighs, with a look in his eyes that held a lot more than apologies.

"please, stop ignoring me. i can't deal with it," he whispers, his eyes are level with hers and his orbs are a darker shade than normal, and she can sense her own mirroring his demeanour, "i need you to look at me, i need you to talk to me, i need you to stop being so annoyed with me because i'm an idiot."

his fingers were dangerously close to a zone that would have her like putty in his hands, melting into the cushions around her, completely at his disposal.

"jesus christ," he grumbles lowly, like he needed a pep-talk with his mind to confess what he needed to say, "i need you, yn."

please can you write something with arthurTV and reader going through a dry spell and putting an end to it !!

placing a hand on her back, he retracts it quick once he realised she didn't hear him enter the room, her whole body jumping at the sudden appearance of his touch.

"jesus, arthur."

"i'm so sorry," he laughs softly, setting her mug of tea down in an empty space on her desk and making sure it was away from any piece of paper that seemed important, "i thought you heard me come in."

"i had my music on," she says and slips her headphones down from her ears, letting them hang around her neck and she leant over to pause the song she was listening to, "honestly, i thought you'd have gone home."

"why?"

he moves to stand behind her so he could take in her desk; paper all over the place, scribbles and spider-maps on all of her ideas, chewed pen lids and ripped up post-it notes that weren't that important to her thought pattern.

"because i've been stuck in here all night with work on the brain," she frowns and he shakes his head, "you can go home, if you wanted. i'm not much fun right now and i wouldn't blame you."

"it's okay. i actually like being at your place as opposed to mine," he shrugs with a smile and presses a kiss to the top of her head, burying his nose into her hair as he laid both his hands on her shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze, "but you should take a break, lovie."

"i can't."

"of course you can," he says softly, digging his thumbs into the nape of her neck and giving her shoulders a soft massage, feeling how the tension building up in her muscles disappeared at his touch, "come on, at least come and have a little nap if you're planning on pulling an all-nighter."

"arthur-"

"or, at least let me help you relax," he drops his head and he whispers the words softly into her ear and she can't help but let her head drop back into a position that collided softly with the back of her chair, "i miss you."

"i can't," she grumbles softly and looks at the way his face twists up in a quick look of frustration that was soon masked with a look of upset, "i want to, i'd love to, but i need to get all this done by tomorrow and i'm so close to being finished."

his lips press against her forehead and she closes her eyes at the soft touch grazing her skin, hands coming up the rest upon his hands that were still resting upon her shoulders.

for the last few weeks, she had been busy with meeting after meeting with brand-deal after brand-deal, talking with companies who were interested in her being the face of their products. spain, france and amsterdam had been places she'd spent three or four nights in, as part of a gifted trip she'd been invited on, and london had definitely been somewhere she had been excited to get away from.

she felt guilty.

she had been to all these amazing places for such amazing deals and opportunities, with new friends she'd met on the way, but she hadn't spent time with arthur. she hadn't been with arthur. and it killed her not to celebrate her achievements with him in a way they normally would.

"i've been really horrid, haven't i?"

i'm currently working on a best friend george x boyfriend arthur fic, too so here's a little something from that one!

“Do you ever wonder what life would be like if we never met? If I never came out that day?” George wonders, “I think my life would be quite boring.”

“I think my life would be even more boring,” YN laughs softly, “you’d still have all of this. You’d still have the podcast, the Tiktok, the Youtube channel, because the charisma that you have would have brought you this kind of life, anyway. The only exciting thing about my life is the fact that you’re my best friend.”

“That’s rubbish,” he shakes his head and sets his mug down on the table, “I think, one way or another, we’d have still ended up in each other’s lives. Just, not as soon as it happened. We were bound to have met eventually, whether it was that day or not.”

The office door opening brings YN’s attention away from George and to the brunette standing in the doorway, wearing a shirt that was almost identical to her own, a nervous look on his face once he realised he’d interrupted something. George’s head turned to follow where her eyes were looking, hand coming up top to wave the other guy in, allowing him to come and join them.

“Arthur, this is YN.”

“Hi,” Arthur smiles sweetly, extending his arm and his hand in an opportunity to shake her hand. To which she gladly mirrored, extending her own arm towards him and wiggling her fingers, their palms connecting in a soft yet hearty shake, “George has told us all so much about you, already. It’s nice to put a face to the name.”

YN couldn’t lie… Arthur was cute.

The handsome-kind of cute with the chiselled jawline hidden beneath the faintest amount of facial hair, shaggy brown hair with a fringe that covered his forehead, lips so pink and soft with brown eyes that held a lot of depth and emotion and she found it hard to look him in the eyes as she said her hello’s yet she found it difficult to look away from him when she finally gained the courage to make eye contact. 

“I mean, you’re all over George’s Instagram so it’s nice to finally meet the guy who he seems to enjoy the company of. I’m not sure whether I should be jealous or not,” YN teases him softly and Arthur lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head and looking to his feet, “I love your t-shirt, by the way. Considering we don’t know each other, we’re matching today.”

It took Arthur by surprise when she stood up and he saw, in full, the same Natural History Museum logo printed across her chest which matched the same one printed on his own chest, just on different coloured cotton. 

“I seem to attract nerds, don’t I?”

and i also have a prequel started for this fic here!

“Meet me in the bathroom.”

YN felt his warm breath wash over the skin of her neck, the smell of orange juice hanging in the air from the Sex On The Beach he had clasped in his hand with a soaked straw that had been chewed upon with each sip he sucked up, a shiver running down her spine as butterflies bounced around the inside of her stomach. His arm snaking around her waist to pull her closer so he didn’t have to shout or speak loudly over the music bumping in the air, her black flush to his front, her body tensing underneath his touch.

All night, the two of them couldn’t stay away from each other.

From the moment she had walked through the door to Simon Minter’s birthday party, later than the time she told them she would be there, he was attached to her side. The first one to say hello to her, the first one to greet her with a kiss on the cheek, the first one to offer her a seat in the booth and the first one to take her jacket and place it with his so it wouldn’t get lost. He sat beside her in the booth that himself, George, Chris and Arthur Hill had taken their place in for the night and he brought her her drinks throughout the evening, refusing to take one off of her when she offered to buy a round. He kept a close eye on her everytime she got up to dance with Talia or Faith, watching every movement she made when a song they loved came on because he didn’t want anything to happen to her, always weary of where she disappeared off to when he took his eyes off of her for a brief second… only to let out a sigh of relief when he saw her standing at the bar as she topped up her drink.

No one else existed in his world when she arrived. His conversation with George dwindled out when he watched her walk over to them, his attention moved from making Chris the butt of his jokes when she joined in the conversations, and his behaviour changed now that she was amongst the four of them. 

The sexual tension between the two of them almost suffocating.

“Now?”

He nods and drops his hand from where he had placed it upon her hip, slowly dragging it down her body and letting his fingers trail slowly down her thigh and just beneath the hem of her dress, and she felt her knees wanting to buckle under his soft touch.