#last fall really wasn’t that bad looking back

[mistresscitrusslice]

Thank you so much for going through the effort to even get screenshots! It’s seriously appreciated.

You make a good point, not least of which because this circle looks like a blast zone that came from within. It even pushed other bodies away. I’ve never seen Kindred gameplay, idk what their protective powers look like, but generally spells that are cast on you by someone else use the caster as the center of the spell, not the target. (Basically, the blast circle wouldn’t have been centered on Ambessa, but on the Wolf.)

The protected area around Mel and Jayce when they wake up doesn’t look like a blast zone the way it did with Ambessa (other than, you know, the Actual Bomb), so I’m not sure what to make of that.

I did not know that Ambessa had a bio already, let alone that included stuff from her music video! I thought she just had her blurb. It’s great that they clarified who she was pregnant with eventually. Uh, where’s Kino while she’s out at war then??? I imagine that Kino’s father was probably also a soldier and in the army too. Hopefully Kino was with relatives or family friends.

Also, Rokrund! It’s nice to get a name for the specific region Ambessa is from other than just the wider nation of Noxus. Is this a new name we’re hearing or has it appeared in any other League lore/media before?

“Visions that she would speak of to few others.” I wonder who those few are. Given how she treats her children, I cannot trust that even her kids are among these few. Their dad, maybe? I hesitate to say “Ambessa’s husband” because she definitely does not act like she has a husband, or maybe he’s deceased.

I plead the fifth on the Solari stuff because I know jack shit about the Solari, and if it turns out that Mel does have Solari magic, I do want to be surprised by their lore.

It still puzzles me why, if she does have magic, she wouldn’t use it to defend herself. You mentioned it being linked to situations with certain death. I’m iffy on this because it feels convoluted and kind of like a cop-out if that really is the reason can’t use it at will. If it is the case, though, then maybe Viktor wasn’t hurt because his magic clashed with hers, but because his death wasn’t guaranteed. I rewatched the opening scene, and he was still moving a little when Jayce performed Hexcore magic on him. If his death wasn’t certain, then the magic had no need to save him.

More likely, Mel’s magic has a cooldown and a long period where she needs to build enough magic back up to be able to use, but most likely, Mel doesn’t even know she has magic. There’s no sense in concealing her magic now, especially not after it saved herself and Jayce. Sure, it’d be a bad idea to come out about it to the world even after Piltover accepted Hextech since it would’ve been a secret for so long. However, I do believe she would’ve told Jayce. If not before, then definitely after it saved the two of them and Viktor still almost died.

Jayce needs as much information as he can get to figure out what’s going on with Viktor. Mel cares a lot about Jayce and seems to also care for Viktor even if she disagreed with him last season. She also has the same innate curiosity that Jayce and Viktor do. She’d want him to be able to solve this puzzle with all the information at his disposal and has been able to open up to him in the past with the trust that he would not share her secrets. She’d tell him so that they could figure out why her magic didn’t work as it was supposed to.

Unless there’s a reason we haven’t been told for why she needs to keep this hidden? If you squint your ears real hard, her line of “There’s no sense to these things, Jayce” in response to “How does the explosion do that to him and I just walk out without a scratch” sounds a bit like she’s trying to get him to drop the subject. After all, there is sense to these things for a scientist. There’s physics and calculations that go into why every single piece of debris falls in the way that it does. Which direction it flies in, how much heat is dispersed, the shock absorption in everything and every person in the blast radius, how far each person gets pushed across the room. To Jayce, “there’s no sense” might not be a comforting thing to hear. So was Mel just trying and failing to comfort him or was she attempting to change the subject? Or am I just reading too much into it?

Lmao imagine tho if Jayce found out she has magic, whether she already knew or not. He’d want to study her! And honestly she’d probably be down for it to find out even more ways to use her powers, maybe a way to replicate it with Hextech so more people can have a way to stay safe! That would actually be a good way to use Hextech to help people. And maybe Mel just has a scientist kink, who knows

Mel's protection should have saved Viktor too, and she's trying to figure out why it didn't

S2 ep1 shows a circle of protected stone where Mel and Jayce were during the explosion. My theory is that Mel's magic armor activated and saved them both. It seems like it casts a sphere of protection around wherever Mel is.

The center of this circle is not Mel's seat - it's Jayce's. She ran to Jayce to save him.

No other Councilors were in range of Mel's protection, so they all got hurt or killed.

But Viktor was, Jayce's words, "right next to" him. He was easily within Mel's circle of protection.

1) Viktor tried to run and mistakenly left the circle of protection. But are we meant to believe that Viktor, close to dying already and using a crutch, would have outrun Mel?

2) Viktor's augmented body clashes with Mel's

Why does Mel try to touch Viktor in episode 1? It seems like a throwaway moment, but not even Jayce touches him in this scene. So why Mel?

She's curious. And possibly, feeling responsible. She's wondering why her protection didn't work.

Is this Hexcore brand of the Arcane trying to reach out to Mel? Or trying to defend itself from her?

Mel was trying to protect both Jayce and Viktor, which is reflected in how she holds Jayce as well as Viktor's cane when she promises to protect Hextech:

But if, for example, Mel's magic is Solari in origin, and Viktor's is from the Void - or the Arcane equivalent of similar opposing forces - then it's possible that their magic rejects or hurts one another. So Mel's circle of protection either rejected Viktor, or was what hurt Viktor, and not the explosion.

[wonderjanga]

I’m Not Brainwashed.

A blizzard hit Fawcett. It was a pretty harsh one too. His apartment doesn’t have heating too. So, Billy went on a journey to find a warm place to sleep.

First, he tried the corner owned by a nice old man. The man said he could bask in the store’s warmth until the store’s closing time.

Old Man: “I’m sorry, it’s just I don’t feel comfortable leaving you here overnight.”

Billy: “There’s no need to apologize, Mister. It’s fine.”

Old Man: “But it isn’t. I wish I could keep you longer but I can’t. Here.” *gives Billy some wrapped sandwiches* “Come back tomorrow. I’ll let you stay again.”

Billy: *small smile* “I’ll try. Thanks, Mister.”

Billy would definitely come back tomorrow, but for now he had to find a place to sleep for the night. This was when Billy made the unfortunate mistake of going to the Rock of Eternity to get out of the cold for a moment.

Billy: *plops down in front of the throne eating one of the sandwiches given to him* “Hmm… Where am I gonna go now?”

Billy didn’t know that those would be his last words as he dozed off at the rock.

A full rest later…

Billy: *stirs awake* “Where am I…? The rock? Geez did I fall asleep?” *feels a buzz from his pocket dimension and pulls out his JL comm and sees like 95 notifications* “-Oh my GODS.”

That’s how Billy found out the hard way never to sleep at the Rock. Turns out, to everyone else, he disappeared. For a WEEK. Damn (he feels like he deserves to curse in this situation) the Rock of Eternity and the weird way it makes time go by. Let’s see… He’d missed an emergency meeting, several messages from his friends, and an either concerned or subtlety threatening text from Batman. Okay. That’s concerning. Uh… You know what? Before he goes and talks to his friends, why doesn’t he go check on Fawcett first?

So, he left the rock, and guess what? The blizzard is still going. He’d be lying if he said this didn’t peeve him. Thankfully, it was daytime, so that means the Old Man would probably let him in the store again.

Old Man: “There you are! You had me worried.”

Billy: “Sorry.” *sounds ashamed*

Old Man: “There’s no need to apologize. It’s just, you said you would be back the next day, and you never came. I thought something had happened to you! I’ve been stress cooking ever since.” *puts a large bag of food into Billy’s hands*

Billy: “I didn’t mean to stress you. You don’t have to give me this.”

Old Man: “Yes I do.” *points to the spot Billy sat the day he had come in* “Now go sit and eat.”

Billy: “Yes, Mister.” *trudges over me eats, feeling bad for making the man worry*

Soon though, Billy had to leave again. He said goodbye to the Old Man and started walking to the blistering cold. He had to find another place to sleep. He looked up the now night sky. He had an idea. It was a stupid one, but it was an idea nonetheless.

The intercom over head announced Captain Marvel’s presence in the watchtower. Wally paused in eating the quadruple double triple quintuple sandwich he made himself. Wasn’t it like 10 pm in Fawcett or something? Cap almost never came to the Watchtower after seven unless it was for monitor duty. The speedster quickly finished his sandwich and decided to go see if something was wrong.

Eventually, he found the Captain near the sleeping quarters. Most members of the JL had one. That included Cap, but as far as Wally knew, Marvel hadn’t so much as stepped foot in that room.

“Cap, buddy! What’re you doing here so late?” Flash asked, causing Marvel to startle.

“Oh uh… I thought I’d get some sleep.” The Captain said, anxiousness rolling off him in waves.

“I thought you didn’t need to sleep?”

“Well, I don’t, but I still like to, y’know?” Marvel said, scratching the back of his neck.

Flash shook his head. “Not really.”

A small, out of place, awkward silence filled the hallway where they stood for a moment before Flash spoke up again, “Where have you been all week-”

“Night!” Cap cut him off, quickly entering the room and letting the door shut behind him, abruptly ending the conversation.

Wally stood there for a few moments. Okay… Something was definitely wrong with his buddy. Had the speedster done something to upset him? He turned to start walking away. He’d talk to his buddy later.

Wally got maybe seven feet away before he heard a loud crash that sounded like lighting and then loud alarms that started ringing throughout the Watchtower. Something about an intruder? Batman walked over to him. Where he came from, only god knows.

“Flash.” Bruce greeted him as he passed, stopping in front of the door Marvel disappeared into just a few moments before.

“Spooky, what’s going on?” Flash sped over to stand next to him.

”There’s an intruder in this room.” Batman replied, as soon as he finished speaking, another large crash of lightning could be heard. The alarm then stopped blaring. This made the Dark Knight pause and start tapping something on the tablet Wally just realized the other man was holding.

“Did something happen?” Wally asked, leaning over to try and see the tablet.

“The intruder is gone. The Watchtower’s also sustained two major electrical strikes that traveled through the tower, temporarily shut down anything in its way. They traveled to this room.” Bruce said.

It was at that moment, Marvel decided to make an appearance. He looked panicked, and when he registered Batman was standing in front of him, the panic seemed to increase. “Mister Batman Sir! Heeeeeeey…”

“Captain, there’s an intru-” Batman didn’t get to finish that sentence before Marvel interrupted him.

“Sorry Mister Batman Sir, but I really gotta be going.” Marvel said hurriedly before speed walking to the zetas. Wally and Bruce watched him go.

Billy should’ve known it was too stupid of an idea to work! He wanted to see if he could detransform and sleep in the bed of the room, but nooooooooo it just had to trigger the alarm. Billy wasn’t proud about interrupting so many (two) people today, but he really, really needed to go because as soon as Flash and Batman step into his room, they’re gonna see two dark lightning marks on the floor. Then they’re gonna try and ask questions. Then that’s gonna lead to Billy having to explain that he can summon lightning to change into a little kid. Then they’re gonna get mad Billy lied to them about being an adult. Then, they’re gonna try stopping him from being a hero, and from there his life as a hero and as Billy Batson will crumble to literal dust.

Around fifteen minutes after Marvel left… Flash was pacing, practically making trails in the ground, “Spooky, he was gone for a week! Not only that but he was acting weird and we got a notification of a security breach. This might sound crazy, but I think it might be that worm thing he mentioned.”

“Worm thing?” Batman asked, sounding incredulous. Wally was wondering why he found that of all the things they’ve seen and heard unbelievable.

“Yeah! He said one of his villains is this little worm that crawls into your ear and takes control your brain.” Flash said, one of his fingers doing a weird wiggling motion as if to resemble a worm.

“So you think he’s being mind controlled?” Supes asked, sounding super concerned. Oh right, he’s here too. He’d just gotten off monitor duty with J’onn. At the moment, the Martian was in the kitchen getting some snacks.

“Yes!” Flash exclaimed. “It could explain why he up and disappeared.”

“Flash, for all we know, he could’ve been gone due to a family emergency or something along those lines.” Batman spoke.

“Well… just to be safe…?” Supes started, sounding cautious as he trailed off and nodded to a nearby cabinet the three, or at least Clark and Bruce, knew housed bug spray.

That was how they ended up cornering Marvel in Fawcett, Superman restraining the man while Batman sprayed bug spray in his face and ears. Meanwhile Flash was standing to the side nervously, holding a jar in case a certain green worm actually crawls out of Marvel’s ear.

So yeah, today was not Billy’s day, let alone week. Also, it turned out that there was a magical creature that was causing the blizzards. He proceeded to promptly beat it up for all the trouble and embarrassment it inadvertently caused him.

Don’t ask why I stopped formatting the dialogue the way I normally do for a couple seconds. I don’t even know. That’s actually why I didn’t post around eleven like I normally do. It was taking a while.

[yoonmetogether]

Part 1 – Play Nice

pairing: bodyguard!Yoongi x CEO!fem reader - brother/mob boss!Jin, brother/mob boss!Jungkook

genre: mafia, e2l, sloooooow burn, age gap

summary: As you and your brothers finalize the plans for the next chapter in the family business, you end up discovering things that you didn't expect. And upon meeting the man assigned to guard your life, you think the universe must really have it out for you. And you don't like it. Not one bit.

warnings: angst, arranged marriage, drug addiction/rehab, family drama, parental loss, age gap, alcohol, smoking, mentions of speed racing, crime, drugs and weapons trading, night terrors, ptsd, guns, reader has a knife (and an attitude)

minors pls dni

wc: 19k buckle up, folks!!!

teaser l prologue l part i. play nice I interlude: strangers l part ii. I

You make a mocking face at your phone, specifically the social media app that shoves pictures in your face of your university friends opening up their architecture firm that you were meant to be a part of. Good for them, you think sourly to yourself. You would be happier if you were there with them, before your dreams and plans to settle down in one place were foiled.

It’s been almost a year since they were, right before you finished up your second to last semester of grad school when your brother called to tell you that your father had died.

Your father, who never looked you in the eye. Your father, who you spent too much of your childhood vying for his attention, especially as a teenager, around the time he started to pay more attention to Jungkook. Like when you purposely flunked classes, hoping he’d care enough to yell at you to do better, only for Jin to show up to teacher meetings in sunglasses and a mask but the disappointment wasn’t hidden underneath. Or when you went around shoplifting with your friends and got caught by mall security, wishing he’d be the one to show up and get you out of trouble. But yet again, Jin came in another disguise, and the disappointment was the same. He knew what you were doing, but didn’t have the heart to tell you it wasn’t worth it, because your father would never care. He barely acknowledged your existence.

So, at the news of his passing, you felt nothing. That was until you realized that it meant everything would fall on your brothers’ shoulders. And suddenly, you became a part of the very thing Jin worked so hard to keep you away from. Your duty and prospects became that of carrying out your father’s legacy. Before you knew it, you were set to be engaged to the son of a casino owner, so that you would take over the casino in the city your brothers ran, streets filled with crime and money fueled by Crow blood.

Kim blood. Dirty blood. Your blood. 

Over the summer, you finished up your last semester, rushed through six classes in order to complete all of your credits. You honestly don’t know how you pulled it off. Three weeks before you were scheduled to graduate, Jin called, bearing the bad news that Jungkook had relapsed and was back in rehab, so you needed to come home right away. You didn’t get to walk the stage. And you certainly couldn’t give the school an address to send your diploma to. So everything was lost in the wind.

Jungkook was still in rehab by the time you got a ring shoved on your finger. None of your friends know about the engagement. Granted, none of them can even be invited to the wedding. You can’t even tell them where you’re living now.

You probably will never speak to them again.

Locking your phone and dropping it in your lap, you sigh dramatically as you look out the window at the cloudy weather, the rain that pours on the windshield, the thunder that rumbles from above. It’s been cloudy a lot lately. Or maybe the gloom that’s been sitting in your chest ever since you got married has made everything around you seem dull and gray. Even your house is decorated without color, thanks to your minimalist husband who has no taste for style. He thinks as long as things are expensive, they’re worth having even if it’s all fucking ugly. Your husband didn’t care for your opinion when he picked out the house and furniture, despite the fact that you just graduated with a minor in architecture.

You’re just glad he picked a spot in the woods, right outside of the city.

You’ve always had a talent for decorating, handing it off to the fact that you’ve moved so many times throughout your life, having to buy new furniture since you couldn’t drag it everywhere you went. You became the queen of thrifting. As long as you had your keyboard, favorite posters and plushies, you were good. You took care to make your place your home, a reflection of you and your interests in order to keep you grounded, help you feel like you belonged somewhere, even though you never stayed in one place for too long. Jin preferred it that way, felt it was safer. But it meant you couldn’t have normal friendships or relationships because they wouldn’t keep in touch if you dropped out halfway through the year to transfer to a university in an entirely different place, sometimes a country. It was very destabilizing, and it made things equally lonely, and your brother tried to make up for it by wiring you substantial amounts of money for you to use freely, but responsibly.

You never touched that money. Because how could you as a college student, who worked part-time, low wage jobs, explain the luxuries that your brother’s money could afford? The money that could pay for a few hundred thousand parking lots of the most expensive and rare cars, at least five cities worth of houses, maybe even feed a small country, much less your tuition and rent. No, you would get by on your own. Sometimes you found yourself at a poker table, often dabbling in an underground gambling ring because that’s where you could make the most of your money. (You couldn’t bring yourself to go to a casino. It would make you think of Jungkook and how much he was struggling). Who would expect a young girl who looked like she got lost on her way to a club to be any good at placing bets? It’s not your fault you grew up around brothers and friends who taught you how to play cards, molding you to have phenomenal skills in seeing through people and their tells, that they gave themselves away through their eyes. You learned how to pull off the perfect poker face, faking being naive and innocent, got them to fall in your trap and leaving them in shock when you walked away with fat wads of cash in your pocket. You guess that made you a hypocrite.

But there were times when you ran out of money and had to choose between paying a light bill or buying groceries, and you found yourself considering withdrawing from those offshore bank accounts, but you knew once you started, you wouldn’t stop. So, you would end up eating the best meals of your life in a dark and cold apartment, sitting alone with the guilt of knowing your brothers would be hurt to think you were ashamed of them.

That guilt still lingers, especially now that you’re riding in a tinted SUV, lavish seats and custom interiors, materials and technology not found in cars of the average citizen. You're well out of the bounds of average by now. You don’t feel like you belong even though your brothers are in the exact same boat.

“Is everything alright?” Mr. Han asks from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, just..." you sigh, each breath you take doing the opposite of calming the anxiety racing in your veins. "I was supposed to be managing this architecture firm with my uni friends by now, working on biophilic design that connects spaces with nature and all that.”

You hope you're hiding your bitterness better than you think, remembering how excited you’d been to finally do something you were passionate about and how quickly the ball was dropped on that.

"That sounds interesting. Maybe you can incorporate some of that at the casino when you’re doing the renovations."

"Mm. But I don't know if my future father-in-law would be down to have a bunch of plants all over the place." Mr. Han laughs. "Well, if you're the one in charge once you’re married, I don't see why not."

You smile, grateful for his support, but you know as a female CEO among a board of directors and investors that are majority men, you will only get so much leeway. But you'll have to make do with what you have. You’re an expert at this point.

"You've done a good thing by coming back to your brothers now that things are complicated." "I just... I don’t know if I can do it. Y’know. The other part."

That part being the real reason you're getting involved at the Stay Gold casino: to take care of business that belongs to your family. Not just supervising the renovations, or overseeing the slot games, blackjack and roulette tables, but keeping a tight chokehold on the money that flows in and out of all that gambling. Money that serves as a front to what you'll be taking care of behind the scenes. Essentially, you'll be a loan shark. And that's what's been keeping you up at night, knowing what comes with ensuring certain associates make their payments in timely fashions, especially if they're buying protection. At least you’ll be putting your business degree to use. "You are just as smart and tough as your brothers, if not more. You'll be able to handle it, I have no doubts, Miss Jeon."

But I’m not like them, is what you want to say, but shouldn’t because it would be a lie.

"Thanks, Mr. Han. And you know you can call me Angel.”

"Of course. I'm always here if you need anything."

And you know he means it but it's a small comfort. Mr. Han has been your brothers’ driver for as long as you can remember, always so kind and considerate, making you wonder how a man like him ended up in a job like this. When you found out you were going to have to be chauffeured around, you weren’t exactly ecstatic because you love to drive, love the freedom that comes with it, but you figured with Mr. Han, it wouldn’t be so bad.

The SUV drives through an underground tunnel, leading into a narrow road surrounded by a forest that takes you to the gated driveway of your brothers’ extravagant mansion. Mr. Han cracks open the window to speak with the armed guard who then waves to someone you can’t see and the iron-gates buzz open. The tires slowly rumble over the cobblestone, past the grand and meticulously landscaped lawn with many guards littering the property, up to the roundabout in front of the house where there's a tall, sharp-jawed, and suited guard waiting for you. Yeong, the (devastatingly handsome) man who’s been assigned to escort you whenever you show up to meet with your brothers. He opens the door and greets you politely as another guard appears from the back of the car. This one doesn’t say anything as you get out, and you’re glad because you’ve never seen him before and you don’t like interacting with any of your brothers’ men whom you haven’t met. You remind yourself and your constricting throat that these men work for your family, and you’re safer with them around than not. But still. You hate being followed and made to feel like you can’t go anywhere by yourself.

Before you can make it to the porch, your brother enthusiastically swings open one of the large double doors, quickly beckoning you in and shutting the door. As you step in and shuck off your shoes, you notice the indiscreet way he gives your outfit a onceover, like he’s never seen you in sweats before.

“Well, you didn’t have to get all dressed up just for us.” You glare at him, lifting your middle finger.

“Shut up, Jin. Just because you sleep in your suits.”

“That’s Jinnie to you,” he says through puckered lips, squishing your cheeks. “C’mere.”

He pulls you into a strong embrace that you weakly pretend to fight off.

“Missed ya, kiddo.” Taking your coat, he kisses the top of your head, and you mumble similar sentiments into his chest with a small smile that quickly turns into a scowl when he roughly rubs his knuckles into your hair.

You push him away and scurry towards the dining room, stomach growling at the wonderful smells emanating from the kitchen. If there’s one thing you’ve missed now that you’ve moved out (again), it’s Jin’s cooking. Your brothers too of course, but that’s a given.

Jungkook is there sitting in his spot, to the left of the head of the table, already eating. It looks like today is one of his good days, and you find yourself smiling. He's eating his food and not just picking at it, the bags under his eyes aren't as prominent, and his hands are steadier than usual.

"Hey, loser. You couldn’t wait for me?" you say to Jungkook as you sit across from him. 

“You’re late,” he mumbles, mouth full of food, glancing at you as he chews. “Is that why you look like shit?”

“Funny, ‘cuz I dressed up like you today.” You stick your tongue out at his glare, becoming distracted when you notice something at the corner of his bottom lip.

“What is- oh that’s a stud. I thought it was a big ass zit.”

“Piss off.” He waves your hand away when you tease poking at the metal ball.

You live for bullying your brother, even though he’s two years older than you. He was pretty mean to you as a kid, so this is just payback. Sure you were annoying, but what are little sisters for? At the end of the day, you know he’s your ride or die, just like you are for him.

“It’s cute. What’s next, a tongue piercing?”

“I draw the line at tongue piercings,” Jin intervenes, calling out from the kitchen. Him and his supersonic hearing. You snicker and Jungkook just rolls his eyes.

“Any new tats?”

He shows you the additions to his full sleeve and you marvel over the designs that he created, asking the inspiration or story behind each one, always fascinated by his talent. You have a knack for drawing yourself - you wouldn’t have the passion for architecture without it - but it’s never been on the same level as Jungkook’s. Dude can paint museum-worthy landscapes and portraits within an hour. He’s annoying like that.

When you’re done examining his arm, you sit back in your chair, snatching a morsel of his food on the way and he grabs your wrist in an attempt to stop you but instead stares at your sleeve.

“Wait, this is my jersey,” he says, ignoring the way you fight to wrestle out of his grip. “I’ve been looking for this!”

“So what? It looks better on me.” You rip your arm away and you’re already halfway out of your chair just as your brother lunges over the table to grab at the jacket. You spring up and out of the dining room, a shrill laugh escaping when you look back to see Jungkook dashing after you.

You may have grown up with him, done taekwondo and thrown loads of rounds in boxing gloves with him, even gotten him into a headlock once or twice, but now he’s built like a bus, and he could bulldoze you down in two seconds flat with no regrets. And it makes you want to scream your head off. 

Sprinting into the living room, you clamber over the back of the couch, knowing Jin would kill you if he saw you with both feet on the cushions, but you’re much more worried about Jungkook closing in on you.

“Go away!” you shriek when he leaps over the couch with ease, like he’s a damn gold medalist in Living Room Olympics.

“Give me my jacket!”

“I’ve had this for like three months, how are you just now missing it?” You point out as you attempt to use the coffee table as a barricade.

“I told you to stop stealing my clothes.”

“It’s only because you have such a cool style.”

He pauses to look at you like he won’t fall for your bullshit compliment. You take this lapse as an opportunity to make a run for it into the kitchen where Jin is filling a carafe of water with fresh-cut berries, rushing to hide behind him at the counter like you used to do as a kid. Jin acts unbothered, barely noticing the way you’re gripping the back of his sweater like a lifeline, only looking over his shoulder when you make a noise as Jungkook jogs towards you.

“Cheater.”

"Yah, come on, you two," Jin admonishes as Jungkook tries to grab you, making you hurry to Jin’s right, grabbing his bicep as if his big guns will protect you.

"He started it."

"Did not!" Jungkook exclaims, and you childishly stick your tongue out at him. 

“Give your brother his jacket,” Jin says in a parental tone. “But I like it.” Turning around, your oldest brother levels you with a look that mirrors the one Jungkook gave you a few minutes ago and you know not to argue anymore, begrudgingly shrugging off the jersey and throwing it at your brother who catches it with a victorious smile.

“Come on, kids, let’s go eat,” Jin says as he picks up the carafe and three glasses.

Both hands on your back, Jungkook pushes you and you stumble forward.

“Ow, don’t push me. Jinnie!”

“Big baby," Jungkook mumbles through his teeth.

“Big bitch," you fire back.

Jin clicks his tongue and mutters something under his breath, something about how is it that he has two siblings in their mid-20s who still act like children. And it is pretty interesting, considering you and Jungkook are about to assume control of the fucking mafia. But it’s been years since you’ve played around with your brother, and now that he’s about to take over for Jin, who knows if you’ll ever be able to do this again. The thought creates a bit of a hole in your heart, like digging a grave for something that isn’t gone yet.

Once Jin turns his back, leading the way into the dining room, you and Jungkook exchange various gestures that all silently mean “fuck you.” Jin shoots a knowing glare over his shoulder that makes you both hide your offensive hands behind your backs, forcing yourselves not to laugh.

“Are you two ever going to grow up?”

“No,” you both answer simultaneously. Jin huffs and looks between you two with a shake of his head.

“Sit down and eat before the food that I put my blood, sweat, and tears into gets cold.”

You and Jungkook share an eyeroll at Jin’s drama, digging in so he won’t try some dramatic monologue about cooking.

"So, how are you doing?" Jin asks you a few minutes into the meal. "Fine," you shrug, too focused on the food to give a more complex answer.

"You’re all settled in at the house?"

“Mhmm,” you hum indifferently, feeling your appetite slowly start to slip away. You were hoping you could have a nice, normal night with your brothers, pretending that you aren’t dreading going back to the house, to a fiancé you know next to nothing about and all of the work and unpacked boxes you have waiting in your wing of that big ass, bland ass house.

“How are you two getting along?” Internally sighing, your shoulders deflate.

“He’s not horrible, I guess. But he’s just… I don’t know. Boring. And lame. He thinks his tattoos make him look cool.” You glance at Jungkook and gesture to his sleeve.

“Which is something the two of you have in common.” Jungkook’s lip curls and he points his chopsticks at you and flinches. You blow him a kiss in return that you change to a middle finger.

“He also acts like he’s never been to the grocery store. And I very seriously doubt he can tie his own shoes. His butler does pretty much everything for him.” Just the word ‘butler’ makes you want to throw up, not to mention the fact that you’re about to marry a guy who needs one.

“But things are going okay?” Jin asks just as you shove more food in your mouth. Can’t a girl just eat?

“What is this, twenty questions?”

“I’m just checking in.”

“Okay, but can we not do this right now? Please.” You ignore the way your brothers share a look.

“If things aren’t going well, you need to tell us.”

“Things are going as well as they can for an arranged marriage. We might live on opposite ends of the house, but we’re cordial. You’re not really expecting me to actually like this whole situation, right?” Jin regards you carefully.

“No, but you do need to make sure it all works out.”

Suddenly, you've completely lost your appetite. You scowl and drop your silverware, sitting back in your chair with your arms crossed, refusing to look at them both staring at you.

“God, Jin. I agreed to marry him, didn’t I? Picked up my entire fucking life to come back here and help out even though you promised-” You point harshly at Jin who looks at you with a small frown as his fingers rub on the edge of a napkin. You know it’s not his fault but damn, it hurts that he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“That I would never have to do that. What more do you want? An heir or something?”

They both wince. “No, of course not.”

“Then lay off my ass about it. I’m fine, okay? Don’t be a helicopter.” “Honey, I just want to make sure he’s treating you right.”

“What does it matter? I’m stuck with him either way. Besides, I can take care of myself.”

“Of course you can. I’m only-” But you don’t want to hear anymore. With a grimace, you pick up your plate of unfinished food, scoot back your chair and stand up to head into the kitchen.

Jin leans forward with a heavy sigh, steepling his fingers, resting his forehead against them and closing his eyes.

"Way to go, hyung," you hear Jungkook mumble as you storm out of the dining room.

Stewing, you put away your leftovers and start to clean up the counters, knowing you’re the one being dramatic now but you can’t help it. This is supposed to be your safeplace, here with your brothers, especially since time with all three of you together is running out. Right now, you want to forget about all your responsibilities, all the things you have to step up to that you never imagined doing, and you wish your brothers would just go along with it. But they’re more realistic than you, it seems.

You hear dishes clink in the dining room, and soon you’re joined by your brothers, all silently working to clean up the kitchen. You pay no mind to their attempts at getting you to lighten up by nudging your shoulders, flicking water in your direction, and taking over the dish scrubbing, and it isn’t until Jin shoves a glass of sparkling cider in your hands just as you try to make an escape to the living room do you lose your resolve.

“I’m sorry, kiddo. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Jin says as he and Jungkook corral you towards the couch.

You huff, fingers rolling on the stem of the glass, swirling the red content inside, and sit on the plush cushion, your brothers on either side of you.

“I’m not. Just- I can’t remember the last time all three of us have been in one place and I didn’t want to talk about any outside stuff. I just wanted to pretend that things are how they used to be. Because what if-” A lump forms in your throat.

“What if this is actually the last time?” Jin reaches forward and grabs your hand, a serious line knitted through his eyebrows.

“It won’t be. I promise.” “You’ve always told us to never make promises.”

“Well, I made the rules so I can change them. I am going to come back,” he says, squeezing your hand. “I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but-”

“You know something’s starting right now? Okay, Ariel,” Jungkook cuts in, grinning when you snort and Jin shoots him a scowl, leaning over to roughly ruffle his hair. You laugh at Jungkook’s dirty look when he thinks Jin just messed up his hair and Jin tries to fix it but ends up making it worse and a small hand-slapping fight ensues. This is what you’ll miss. This dynamic, where no matter how hard you all try, you can never be serious.

“Do you think we can go on a trip?” you ask out of the blue, casted by a nostalgic wave longing for memories that make you feel normal.

“Y'know, to the cabin? Just for a couple of days.” Jin smiles, but it’s small. Jungkook doesn’t look at either of you.

Ever since you can remember, any spare time Jin had, he whisked you and Jungkook away to a cabin somewhere in the mountains, never going to the same spot twice. You waited for the days that Jin would show up at the boarding school, make up some excuse to get you both out and drive up to a cabin where he would let you both run wild. In the woods was where you learned how to ride your bike and climb a tree, legs swinging from a branch with Jin standing underneath you, arms held out like you’d fall any second. You were too busy yelling at Jungkook to stop throwing sticks and leaves at you from a few branches above. A cool summer sunset by a river was where you caught your first fish that Jungkook ended up chasing you around with for a good five minutes. You screamed at the top of your lungs, Jungkook cackled maniacally, and Jin did his best not to laugh, only grabbing the fish out of his brother’s hands once you began to run around him like a maypole. Later, you got your revenge by shoving the chopped fish head in his face after Jin started cooking. Jungkook cried all throughout dinner and, in your stubbornness, you refused to apologize so Jin made you hold hands for the remainder of the night until one of you caved.

As you got older and Jin got busier, he would allow you to make plans with your friends to go to a cabin in a discreet location, whether that was in the woods or by the beach. You loved your friends, but you always found yourself missing Jin, wishing he was there to cook and make lame dad jokes, play guitar by a fire he started and act out ridiculous stories until you and Jungkook were rolling on the ground with stomachs that ached from laughing so much.

It wasn’t until you were much older that you realized those trips to the cabin were the only times the three of you spent together where Jin wasn’t constantly looking over his shoulder. Sometimes though, he wouldn’t speak for a while, a blank yet morose energy surrounding him that he could only shake himself out of if you and Jungkook poked and prodded him enough. In the woods, he never wore a mask or sunglasses or a variety of hats like he did when he came to pick you up from school. Later down the line, Jungkook had to do that too and that’s when everything started to change. You could no longer see each other unless the location and meeting times were planned in advance, and there were always some men in suits, sunglasses, and dark coats with wires hanging out of their ears accompanying you.

A year after Jungkook graduated from secondary school was when things fell apart. Jin made you promise to never speak about either of them to anyone, and helped you come up with a pseudonym. By the time he shipped you off to study abroad once you started university, you never used your real name and neither did they. From then on, you only spoke to your brothers on the phone, one that you had to pick up at a convenience store and dispose of once you were done. The calls were typically short - Jin asking if you were doing well in school, if you ate enough, had enough money. You rarely spoke with Jungkook, as he spent a lot of time going in and out of rehab, and when he wasn’t doing that, he was learning the family business with Jin. You missed him, your partner in crime, and you wished you could take him with you, keep him away from your father so maybe he could have a chance at healing, but that wasn’t in the cards. Jin explained time and time again, that this was how things had to be. He may have raised both of you, been the reason you were alive and thriving, but he had no control over the circumstances at home. You couldn’t go back, he wouldn’t let you, and for a while, you thought you’d never see your brothers again.

(There was a time when you did go back, but they never knew about it. When you were feeling homesick, you took a ferry to Jeju to visit the beach where you spent a few summers with your brother and your friends. You spent a few days reminiscing about old times, old friends. It was nice to get away, to feel something familiar for a moment, hang on to memories that you would give anything to relive. But you don’t like to think about that trip anymore. And sometimes you wish you’d never gone back.)

Now you just want to go to the cabin to cling onto the past, of how things used to be, because you know nothing will ever again be the same.

"We can't, Angel. I'm sorry. I have to leave in a few days." And just like that, the wave crashes onto the shores of despair.

“What? You said you had until next month.” Your brothers share another look, another tell that they’ve been keeping you out of the loop of something.

“I do, but I think it’s best to leave earlier so it won’t be glaringly obvious that I got tipped on my arrest warrant.”

“Yeah, probably,” you agree dejectedly. “It was just hard not being home all this time, so I wanted us to hang out. I guess I like you guys or something. Weird, right?” “Totally. ‘Cause we hate you,” Jungkook teases. You scoff and grab a pillow to whack him with over Jin’s head. Jin laughs and lets you get in a few hits before tugging the throw out of your hand, whacking the side of your head, and tossing it on the other end of the couch out of reach.

Silence sits between you for a few moments until Jungkook stands, tugs you up on your feet, and shoves his phone into your hands.

He tries to teach you dance moves from Tik Tok trends, laughing a little too hard when you mess up, and Jin ultimately has to break up a small wrestling match. After you finish filming one video that will forever sit in drafts, Jin gets out the game console and wipes the floor with you and Jungkook on Super Mario. He brags loudly, enticing you both to tackle him, but despite your conjoined efforts, he somehow gets you and Jungkook into simultaneous headlocks, not letting go until you profess that he’s the unmatched master of Mario.

Jungkook then puts on his favorite movie, to which you and Jin stifle groans as you’re made to watch Iron Man for what has to be the millionth time. Jungkook just claps giddily when the Avengers theme song blares through the speakers and neither of you can deny this small happiness. It’s good to see him smile. But throughout the movie, you shoot him small glances out of your periphery when you notice him biting his nails and you know he’s zoned out, and that it’s not a good place where his mind wandered off to. You gently grab his hand and push it down, and he goes to cross his arms like he’s ashamed, but you keep hold of his hand, folding them together and resting them between you. Giving your hand a squeeze, he offers you a tiny smile and goes back to fully engage with the movie.

When the credits roll, you tease Jin for immediately yawning and stretching as he announces he’s turning in. You ask Jungkook if he’s up for a game of Overwatch that he starts up without a word and passes you a console.

After a few minutes of playing, Jin emerges from the kitchen with a couple bowls of snacks and bottles of your favorite drinks that he sets down in front of you on the carpet. You both thank him in unison without taking your attention off the game and he huffs an endeared laugh.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Jin murmurs from behind you both, ruffling your hair. “Crazy kids.”

“Night, grandpa,” you smirk, laughing when Jin pushes your head.

He goes upstairs and leaves you to play the game. But every now and then, you glance over to Jungkook, wanting to check in on him. It’s been a minute since you've had a one-on-one.

“You look like you’re doing good.”

“I’m trying,” he mumbles a bit stiffly, eyes unmoving from the screen, and you take in his tense expression.

“That’s all that matters, bro.” You lightly punch his bicep, and he playfully tips sideways. “You know you can talk to me anytime.”

“Yeah.” It doesn’t seem like he wants to, at least not about certain things, but you need him to know that of all the things that are changing, the fact that you’re his kid sister who he can lean on will stay the same.

“I wish I had been home more often,” you say tentatively. “I know Jin couldn’t always be around.”

He shrugs, nose scrunching. “S’alright, I wasn’t alone. D was there.”

You’ve heard about D. How he had Jungkook’s back in a jail fight a few years ago when Jungkook had a habit of lashing out and starting fights to prove he was tough. Which he was but that didn’t matter if he was outnumbered. When he was booked for a DUI (riding on his motorcycle half-drunk like a dummy) and forced to go through withdrawal, it increased his violent tendencies. After accusing a burly man twice his size for looking at him the wrong way, he found himself getting beat up on by three grown felons in the middle of the yard. He would’ve ended up with a cracked skull if it wasn’t for D. And from then on, he became your brother’s guardian angel of sorts and eventually began working for them.

“You’ll meet him tomorrow at dinner.” You hum, mildly disinterested.

Joy. Spending an evening with your brothers’ capos and guards is just how you wanted to enjoy your last weekend with the both of them. Not.

“And, um, we workout at the boxing club every Friday. Maybe you could join us.”

You look over at him incredulously. There was a time when your brother acted like you tagging along with his friends was a punishment worse than hell.

“You mean you want me to box with you?” He shrugs.

“Gotta make sure you can still fight.”

You roll your eyes. Of course you can still fight. You’ve just been able to get out of precarious situations before you had the need to throw hands. For the most part. That’s the difference between you and your brother - he goes looking for trouble while you do your best to avoid it. But neither of you will be backed into a corner and made to stay there. You won’t go down easy.

“So you down?”

“I won’t be getting in the way of boy time with D?” Smiling, he shakes his head.

“Nah. But you could stand to learn a thing or two from him; he’s a damn good fighter.”

“Better than you?”

“No one’s better than me,” he smirks.

“I guess I’ll have to see for myself.” He chuckles and fakes a slow punch on the side of your head.

“You still have that knife I gave you a few years ago?” You think for a moment. Right before you went abroad for college, Jungkook gave you the blade he carried with him everywhere, one that was sheathed in your favorite color and had a strap attached to it. You cherish it, but you’ve never had to use it. But you figure that’s about to change.

“Oh, yeah, it’s somewhere. I didn’t have a lot of time to really organize when I was packing. Why?”

“You should keep it on you from now on. Just in case.” 

“You mean you’re not gonna be around to protect me, big brother?” you tease. He shoots you a little smile but when his eyes focus back on the screen, you notice him squint and nibble on his bottom lip for a second. You can’t help the feeling that he’s keeping something to himself.

“Not always.” 

You frown. There was a small comfort in thinking that you could rely on him when for years you’ve been apart, but now as new circumstances arise, you don’t know if you’ll be able to see each other as much as you want to. Definitely not enough to make up for lost time.

Just as you’re about to tell him not to worry because you’re a big girl, more of an assurance to yourself, he clears his throat to change the subject again.

“D is really cool, I think you’ll like him.” You offer a mostly sincere smile, thinking to yourself that it sounds as if your brother is trying to sell you on D’s character. You don’t think you’ll care much for it, since he’s Jungkook’s security and all and you won’t be interacting with him much. But you’ll try if it means something to your brother.

“If he’s anything like you, then I doubt it.” His head snaps in your direction and in a fraction of a second, his arm hooks around your neck and pulls you into him, forcing your face into his shoulder so you can’t see a thing.

You fight your way out of his headlock, exclaiming when you notice that he’s beating your ass on the game, and lean on your elbow to press your foot on his cheek in an attempt to distract him, but he only laughs. You complain and cuss him out as he starts winning and reach over to wrestle the controller out of his hands. As you tussle loudly, Jin’s upstairs bedroom door opens and he calls down the hall,

“Keep it down! I need my beauty sleep!”

“You sure do!” Jungkook shouts back, sending you both in a fit of giggles when you hear his door slam shut loudly in response. You come to a truce, if only to save yourselves from facing a grumpy Jin in the morning.

You play and talk into the wee hours of the sunrise, until you slump next to each other and pass out, bellies full and faces covered with evidence of Jin’s snacks that you demolished.

The sky is a gray-blue hue when you’re stirred by your brother talking in his sleep and his incoherent mumbling makes you coo. But just as you go to cover him up with a blanket, he yells out nonsensically, leg kicking over a near empty bottle and sending the rest of the contents into the carpet. His arm shoots up into the air and panic begins to set in when he thrashes around on the floor. After getting the dishes and consoles out of the way, you run up the stairs to Jin’s room, barging in without knocking so you can quickly wake him up. Shaking his shoulder, you stutter out his name and he groans upon being disturbed.

“God, what-” “He’s having a night terror.” Without a second missed, Jin flings himself out of bed and races out of his room and down the stairs, with you following close behind.

Once back in the living room, Jin rushes to Jungkook’s side, who’s now flailing his limbs and shouting but still fast asleep. You watch as your oldest brother gets on his knees, not hesitating to grab Jungkook’s arms, pin them to his abdomen so he can pull him up and against his chest, all while calling his name to try and wake him. Jungkook’s eyes fly open with a gasp and his body reacts violently against Jin’s who almost ends up with an elbow in the chin. But Jin is an expert at handling Jungkook’s episodes, and he knows just what to do to keep them both safe while he gets him to calm down.

“Shh, bunny,” Jin hushes as Jungkook’s body fights him, rubbing his chest and shoulders to soothe. “It’s okay. I’m here, your sister’s here, you’re alright.”

There are visible tears streaming down your brother’s face and you have to sit on the step and cover your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from crying. It hurts so fucking bad to see him this way. It’s been years since the last time you’ve witnessed this, but you know he’s had many in between that Jin has been around for.

“Honey,” Jin calls to you softly above Jungkook’s sobs. “Go up to my bathroom and get out the lock box that’s under the sink. His medicine’s in there. Grab my wallet too, on the dresser.”

With a solemn nod, you stand and turn around as Jungkook slings an arm over Jin’s shoulder to hide in his neck, and your foot freezes mid-step when you hear him loudly wail again and Jin hushes him, rubs his back, and you hurry up the stairs again to grab what you hope will let Jungkook get some rest, some escape, some peace. You come back down with the lockbox and wallet to find Jin sitting on the couch, Jungkook curled up under a blanket with his head in Jin’s lap, chest heaving as he lays on his side. You approach them slowly, and Jin quietly instructs you to get out a small key from his wallet to open the lockbox, which carries Jungkook’s medicine that helps with his anxiety and parasomnia. You head into the kitchen to grab a glass of water while Jin encourages Jungkook to sit up and by the time you return, he seems to be breathing a little easier. After he drinks down a pill, he lays back down and you hope he’ll be able to sleep without another disruption.

You and Jin watch him for a few moments, and when it finally seems that he’s settled, you share a collective sigh of relief. But still, you’re worried. It scares you to see him that way.

“When was the last time this happened?” Jin looks so tired as he tries not to frown.

“More frequently now that you’re back home. Usually he does better when you’re around but. He feels bad that you’re doing this. He thinks if it weren’t for him and everything that happened, you could’ve stayed abroad and made a life for yourself.”

It’s true. You would never say it to their faces, but it is the truth.

“But… then I would never see you guys again.” Your throat tightens. 

“And now that you’re leaving,” you sniff, tears threatening to prick your waterline. “I don’t want him to be alone.”

In the dim light, Jin beckons you over, soft affection in his eyes, and you squeeze in between him and the end of the couch. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and kisses the top of your head.

“You’re a good kid, honey. Even though I never wanted this for you, for either of you, I feel better knowing that you’re going to look out for each other.”

“Me too, Jinnie.”

He pats your arm and you sit quietly for a few minutes with your head on his shoulder, starting to feel sleepy again, safe and assured by Jin’s embrace. Jungkook is snoring now, the meds must’ve kicked in. He won’t talk about this in the morning, and neither of you will ask him to.

"And, about Jay,” your eyes blink open at his gentle tone. “I was thinking maybe what we can do is send him out on business trips so he's not around as much.”

You smile, arm curling around his thick bicep. “Thanks, Jinnie.”

“Just play nice, okay? It’ll all work out.”

You nod, too tired to let that potential burden add to your stress. Pretending to be completely fine with the engagement is the least of your worries right now.

The venue that Jin chose to host the small get-together of you and his men sits on the private top floor of one of the many skyscrapers he owns that you’ve had dreams of designing. Yeong walks at a comfortable distance behind you, quiet but gentlemanly. Stoic, which seems to be a uniform demeanor among your brothers’ men, one Jin expects you to replicate. You know that’s really your father’s expectation, but he’s gone. You would find it difficult to respect him anyway.

Striding into the dining hall, you pay no mind to all of his henchmen in the room, only giving focus to the one who stands out among them all, and not just because of his looming height and broad shoulders. Nor are you intimidated by the commandeering authority that follows him wherever he goes.

“Jin!” you call, making all heads turn to you but you act as if no one but your brother is here. He twists to face you with that shining smile of his that you know is reserved for a select few.

When you walk over to the table, air hazy with cigar smoke, liquor, and low conversation, you keep your expression polite despite the heat that spreads through you when all eyes fall on you. Yeong is close behind and reaches out for a chair once you approach the head of the table, greeting your brother who stands up from his proverbial throne to welcome you.

“Hey, sis. You look nice,” he says warmly, leaning in to welcome you into your seat and you smile, thanking Yeong who pushes in your chair once you sit. Just as you do, Jin leans in to whisper in your ear,

“You’ve got to get used to not using real names here, Angel.” Pulling away, you cringe and mouth your apology that he dismisses with a singular nod.

“Uh, where’s bro? He always gives me shit for being late.” Jin smiles as he sits back down.

“He’s on his way. He was at the gym with D.”

You nod and take a look around the room, noticing that you’re the only woman. Since your brother is here, you’re not worried, but it does feel suffocating. Is this how it’s always going to be from now on?

“How you doin’, Angel,” a deep voice says on your right, and your demeanor brightens when you glance over to see Namjoon pulling out the chair next to you.

“Oh, hey, Moon! Aren’t you sick of me by now?” You tease as he sits down, heart blipping at the beautiful smile on his face. You’ve been working with him these past couple of months, Namjoon preparing and training you for your role at the casino. Extremely intelligent and well-versed, he’s not your brother’s right-hand man for no reason. He knows all of the Crow’s business dealings like the back of his hand, and you feel confident having someone like him to guide you. That paired with his easy-going and wholesome persona, and the fact that you could chat with him about books and music for hours, you can’t deny your itty bitty crush on him. If only you weren’t engaged and he didn’t have a girlfriend. At least one of you is in a happy relationship.

“Of you? Never.” You ignore the mild warmth in your cheeks and playfully nudge him with your elbow. Damn him and his natural charisma.

“So, are you ready for next week?” Ugh. You don’t like the anchor of dread that sinks in your gut at the thought of finally becoming an official member of the family business.

“No,” you mumble because there’s no reason to lie to Namjoon.

“Oh, come on. Yes, you are.” Your palms start to sweat and you put the menu down so as to not ruin it.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready,” you say quietly, stealing a glance at Jin to make sure he’s not listening, glad he’s too busy accepting a top-off on his drink.

“You have a mentor as amazing and smart as me, you’re more than ready.” You roll your eyes at his cheeky grin.

“You’ve been hanging around Jin too much,” you mutter and he laughs.

“Well, just know that no matter what, I’ll be right there with you so you don’t have to worry.” That fact makes you breathe a little easier, but there’s still a layer of anxiety underneath your skin. Just then, a slender, unfamiliar man walks in and heads straight for Jin who does a double take, immediately holding out a welcoming handshake that lingers a little too long once the man accepts.

“Who’s that?”

“Jung,” Namjoon answers with a single glance. You hold up your menu to hide your face as you whisper,

“Agent Jung?” He nods and turns his cheek to utter another reminder.

“Just be careful where you say that.”

Right. You never know who could be listening, so it’s probably not a good idea to mention the man’s real identity in all this. The CIA agent posing as an informant, but really he’s in cahoots with your brothers, covering up their dirty tracks with the occasional bribe of public officials.

“He goes by Hope, but close friends call him Hobi. You could probably get away with calling him that.”

“What’s he doing here?” You can’t help but watch closely the way your brother engages with Hope. His body language is rigid and fidgety, like he’s nervous, but his eyes are soft and wide. Small indications that there’s definitely something going on between the two of them and you’re excited to gossip about it with Jungkook. Because you know all too well how good Jin is at lying.

“Well, your brother wanted you both to be acquainted because the feds might take an interest in you once you take over the casino. He’ll come back to work undercover again if that happens.”

You still as realization takes over, muscles in your face hardening as your heart does a somersault.

“Is that the big secret?”

“What?”

“They’ve been keeping something from me.”

“Um, I’m- I don’t know,” he says in an uneven cadence, and, looking over at him, you notice a slight purse of his lips and realize he’s a terrible liar.

You just got here, but you already need a breather. The cigar smoke isn’t helping either, so you excuse yourself to the bathroom to get some fresh air.

As you rise, Yeong habitually appears next to you, but you place a soft hand on his shoulder, shaking your head to tell him it’s not necessary to escort you out. You internally scream when he looks over at your brother, as if needing his permission to let you go without accompaniment. Jin waves two fingers with a nod, silently dismissing Yeong’s duty and you try not to let that small interaction visibly bother you as you turn away from the table.

The bathroom is empty, thank god, but now you just feel isolated. Especially when you pull out your phone, eager to call up one of your friends and vent, but even if they might pick up despite being on another part of the hemisphere, there’s no way you could tell them anything.

You blink and a face you haven’t seen in a long time spawns in the forefront of your mind, heart sinking when you know he would be the one to call at a time like this but you haven’t spoken to him in years. Not since he had a falling out with your brother and left town shortly after without a word, cutting you deep because you thought you were more important to him than that. Even though it hurt, you understood why he left the way he did. You just sometimes wish he could’ve taken you with him.

With no one to call and nowhere else to go, you finish up in the bathroom with a deep breath and a practiced smile in the mirror, rolling your eyes at yourself and heading for the door with a huff at how fake you look. 

When you emerge, your attention is buried in your phone, and you end up bumping into someone in the hallway.

“Oh, sorry,” you blurt, feeling two hands hover on your shoulders when you stumble back from being caught off guard. You don’t look up right away, gauging from the black fitted suit and long trench coat that this is one of your brother’s men. 

“No, my fault,” he says and the gravelly timbre in his voice tickles a part of your brain. Normally you’re good at reading people, sometimes from just their aura, but there’s something about him that you can’t quite place. So you keep your head down.

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

Ma’am? Yeah, he definitely works for your brothers. Everyone who knows who they are, calls them ‘boss’ or ‘sir’ and as their sister, you deserve the same title and respect that comes with it. Another thing you’ll have to get used to. But it still fills you with an odd feeling that you don’t really like, and you excuse yourself, not waiting for him to step out of the way so you can head back to the dining room. As you pass him, you catch the earthy musk of his cologne mixed with underlying traces of mint and something woody and it makes you involuntarily look over your shoulder to see what kind of man wears such a scent, only to find that he’s not there. He disappeared just as quietly as he’d approached.

Back in the room, you smile upon seeing Jungkook sitting to the right of your brother, and you can’t help but go up behind him, playfully smack the back of his head with your clutch, and sit beside him like nothing happened.

“You took my seat,” you say, feeling his glare on you.

“Children,” Jin grits through a smile just as Jungkook opens his mouth to argue. “Let’s not do this in front of company.”

Jungkook huffs in annoyance and opts to pinch your leg under the table, and you hold back a squeal, not daring to retaliate when Jin glares at the two of you over the brim of his glass.

As you turn your attention to the menu, you notice in your periphery Jungkook looking over his left shoulder, lifting his hand to someone behind him. When you look back as well, your heart palpitates at the sight of a tall, lithe man with black hair that reaches his neck, slicked behind his ears, and eyes hidden by tinted shades striding towards the table.

“Hey, D,” Jin says to the man as he steps up next to him. “Good to see you.”

So, this is the infamous D.

“Boss,” he acknowledges, and turns to Jungkook to tap his bicep with the back of his hand. “Sorry I brought him late.”

“No worries, you’re just in time to order. Take a seat.” D nods and you watch him slightly lift his chin over Jungkook’s head, no doubt taking a glance at you that lasts a mere second before moving to walk behind your brother and consequently you. Time seems to freeze as he starts to pass you, and although you can’t see his eyes, you feel them lock on you, and your heart does gymnastics before stopping completely.

No way. No fucking way. The man who stands above you can’t be the same man who you shared a night with, years ago. A night that creeps back into your memory after you think you’ve forgotten. And a face that haunts your dreams and makes you miss something you never really had. At least, not long enough to count for something.

As he passes, you catch the smell of the cologne that matches exactly to the scent of the man you bumped into in the hallway. Nausea creeps up from the pit of your stomach and you quickly look away, but to your absolute horror, your brother stops him in his tracks right beside you.

“Oh, D. Meet our sister, Angel.” On your right, he swivels on his heel and your breath catches in your throat when he tips towards you in a respectful bow.

“Good to meet you.” He holds out his hand to offer a kind greeting, but it only makes you sick. You swallow thickly, wanting nothing more than to ignore his offering, but you know you can’t purposely be rude, especially not in front of Jin. You have to be polite to him, no matter how much it might kill you, because you can’t let your brothers catch onto something that shouldn’t be there. And after years of playing poker, you’ve learned how to perfect hiding how you really feel. For the most part.

So, swallowing your rage, you muster the courage to turn in your seat to face him, plastering on the fakest smile you can manage and reach out to roughly grab his hand, breath catching in your lungs at the lightning you feel at his warm, soft but slightly calloused touch because you remember them so, so well.

Sometimes in your loneliest, darkest moments, you close your eyes and conjure up the memories of the way those hands once ran over every inch of your body, just like those lips, those eyes, and other parts of him that graced you and lit up your skin, sunk into your bones in a way that made you ache. And that ache lasted, in your heart, in your gut, in between your legs ever since that morning when you woke up expecting to see him next to you, only to find cold and empty sheets. Like he was never there. And you found yourself wishing you could rip out the ghost of his touch from beneath your skin, but it was practically etched into your soul, like it was meant to be there forever.

“Pleasure,” you say through a sickly-sweet smile, wishing you could see beyond his shades for any sign that he knows who you are, or if he’s just forgotten you. It has been three years after all. You catch a light, but noticeable scar slashed vertically on his right eye, partially hidden by his dark glasses. Your heart pangs when you don’t remember that being there the last time you saw him, but he hurt you, intensely, and now he’s acting like he doesn’t know you so fuck him. The sight of that scar compels you to look down at his hand clasped in yours and, in a flash, turn it sideways so you can see the diagonal scar that starts at his knuckles and ends by his wrist, which you do remember. You let go of his hand as if it scalded you and turn your attention back to the table, your mind and pulse racing at this feeling of yet another situation being out of your control. You want to tell your brothers right now about everything, get him off your back and out of your life, but knowing what consequences he would face stops you. He’s lucky Jungkook considers him a friend. Because otherwise, you’d have him thrown into the bottom of the Han river.

Jin calls for rounds of wine and whiskey as the group of men engage in small talk, and you appreciate your brothers who include you as much as possible. You hear conversations of Jin asking Namjoon how it’s going with your onboarding for the casino, and you do your best to contribute, but it’s hard to do it through the static going on in your head that you can’t quell, brought on by the man sitting across the table a few seats down, next to Hope who’s chatting his ear off. He has not looked your way once despite your many stolen and partially involuntary glances, only adding fire to the flame.

Two hours pass for everyone to finish off their meal, drinks, and conversation about work and other things that you tune out. Eventually, Jin starts to hint that he’s ready for the dinner to come to an end, and you sit quietly as he thanks his friends for coming. They all bid their goodbyes and most offer handshakes and arm taps as they wish him well. When they turn to go, Jin’s eyes linger on their backs until the next friend comes up.

As you wait for your brother to end the night for you as well, all who’s left is D, Namjoon and Hope, and they move closer to the head of the table once the rest of the room files out. A pit settles in your gut when D sits directly across from you. Those goddamn shades. You can’t even tell if he’s looking at you.

“Thank you all for staying after,” Jin says after he returns to his chair, knocking back the last of his drink. He gestures to the table. But you speak before he can continue, pretending to check your manicure when Jin looks over, so he doesn't catch the way you were just staring down the man across from you.

“Isn’t it rude to wear sunglasses inside?” You ask your brother. “I thought you were all about respect.”

Jungkook nudges you and whispers behind his hand, “Why are you being a dick?”

You don’t respond, acting as if you didn’t hear him. Because you can’t answer that. Jin sighs and there’s a subtle squint of his eyes at you before he gestures to the man beside him.

“D, if you wouldn’t mind.”

D says nothing (you want to scream that’s not his real name but you’re not sure if your brothers even know that) and raises his hands to remove the sunglasses, expression remaining blank. Once they’re folded and slipped into the inside pocket of his blazer, he finally lifts his bare gaze to you, scar on full display, and your heart slams in your chest. Because those eyes that seem to look right through you, are far too cold and vacant, void of everything that made you once believe you had a shot at something real.

“So, since you’re starting at the casino next week, I want to discuss security. I’m assigning you new detail.” You look at him with a puzzled expression. 

“What's wrong with the team there?”

“I'm talking about your personal guard." Your eyebrows furrow. So this is what your brothers have actually been hiding from you.

“Isn’t that Yeong’s job?”

“He doesn’t have enough experience to handle your protection around the clock.” “Around the clock? You’re joking.”

“I’m not."

You huff and cross your arms. “And if I don’t agree?”

“That’s not an option.”

“Fine. Who did you hire to basically stalk me?”

“D will take on as your guard and driver.”

Ha. Haha. This isn’t real. What kind of joke is the universe playing on you? And why are you the punchline?

You turn to Jungkook. “Isn’t he your security?”

“Yes,” Jin answers. “But since you’re going to be dealing with the public and crews and potential feds at the casino, D has the knowledge and experience to help with everything, so he’s being reassigned to you.”

How can it be this fucking coincidental for the man who dug a crack into your soul, filled it with light, and crushed it when he left with no warning become the new head of your security? Complete and utter bullshit.

"Angel,” Jin mutters, urging you to say something.

“Fuck this,” you spit, eyes darting to the man you speak of to see if your words affect him but when he doesn’t give anything away it only makes you angrier.

“I’m not doing it.” You stand up to head for the door, but your brother's loud, bellowing voice puts a halt to your escape.

“Yes, you are. This is not a game; you don’t have a choice.”

Your head spins. This is too much too fast. All of your control and independence is being ripped out right from under you, and you already feel weighed down by it. Seething, you glance between him and his men, and you don’t want it to look like you’re throwing a temper tantrum. You wonder if this is why your brothers chose to tell you here, in front of everyone, testing you to see if you’ll control yourself.

“I already can’t drive myself anymore, and your guards have to be up my ass when I come here. Yeong has to check in with you to make sure I’m allowed to go to the fucking bathroom alone, your dirty cop is gonna pretty much spy on me at work, and now you want this goon to follow me around everywhere?”

“Look, I know you don’t like this, but-” “No, I don’t.”

“But,” he continues sternly, glare on you growing harsher. “I don’t think you realize the calamity of the situation you’re about to be in and I have to take all the necessary precautions to ensure your safety.” “Meaning I have to be fucking babysat?” you spit with vitriol, and Jungkook puts a hand on your elbow in an attempt to pull you down a notch now that Jin’s expression is contorting into one that shows he will not entertain this conversation for much longer as your brother. Being the boss in front of you has never been something he wanted you to see, but right now you’re pushing the limits. You don’t care so you rip your arm out of Jungkook’s grip who resigns with a sigh while you keep your fiery stare on your oldest brother where there’s a likeness in his own.

“Don’t speak to me that way, Angel.”

“Don’t treat me like I’m a little kid, Jinnie,” you sneer, using his nickname un-endearingly. 

“I told you about not using real names,” he booms, fist falling on the table. You don’t flinch.

“You’re one of us now, you need to start acting like it. And you’re going to start by listening to what I say and showing some respect. Otherwise, we’ll have to have an entirely different conversation, and I really don’t want us to go there.”

You’re not sure what he means by that, but you’d be stupid to fuck around and find out.

“As a woman in this business, you are much more vulnerable and at risk and it’s my job to protect you. That’s just reality. So you need to have security in place, especially by tomorrow. Am I being clear?”

You grind your teeth. “Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I go home now?”

“I’m about to go over the plans for tomorrow. Sit down.”

“Please, I want to go home; I have a lot of things to do. You know I haven’t even unpacked everything yet? I’m practically sleeping in that office.”

You do your best to keep out any expletives, even though you have many to fire off, so you don’t show more disrespect, but your mild lack of control has you muttering under your breath, “No thanks to you.”

Beside you, Jungkook presses his hands together in front of his face like a prayer while Jin shakes his head, eyes closing, and rubs a hand over his forehead like you’re giving him a migraine.

“I’ll get you some help, I’ll get whatever you need. But right now, I need you to stay so we can talk everything out because shit is about to get real. Please sit down.”

You do so with extreme reluctance, the concoction of conflicted emotions swirling in your chest making it increasingly difficult to pay attention to any of what he says. As parts of your mind and body drift in and out of your subconscious, you’re startled out of a staring contest with the edge of the table by Jungkook nudging your shoulder. Relaxing your jaw that was painfully clenched, you lift your head to notice that all eyes are on you, minus one particular pair.

“Sorry, what?”

Jin sighs and gestures to the other side of the table. “Hope was asking if you’d be willing to meet with him in a couple of weeks to check if you have any problems to report.”

“Sure, whatever. I mean, I don’t have a choice either way, right?” you mutter, throwing your brother's words back in his face. You feel Jin’s eyes burning a hole in the side of your face and you know you’ll get an earful from him later.

You glance over to see Hope looking at you with a half-smile and there’s a bit of guilt at how you just came across. You really want to disappear.

“Is that all? May I be excused now?” you ask Jin tersely. He rubs a hand over his mouth like he’s preventing himself from further calling you out. Keeping his stare locked with yours, he raises a dismissive hand.

“D, can you escort her down to the garage? Mr. Han will drive her home.” You close your eyes in relief. “And exchange information on the way; you’ll be picking her up tomorrow evening.”

“Yes, boss.”

You turn around before he stands up, making a beeline for the door because you’re boiling up like a tea kettle. The room seems to be chasing you, closing in on you, like a hand around your throat that you can’t fight off. By the hairs raised on the back of your neck, you can tell he’s coming up behind you so you pick up the pace, jamming your finger into the down button on the elevator. You silently thank it when it only takes a few seconds to arrive, the one thing on your side tonight, so that you can step in before he reaches you. You rapidly press the close button, your eyes narrowed in the harshest glare at his face as he sticks out his hand but he’s too late, the doors rumble shut, sealing him out.

Alone in the elevator, there’s so much going through your mind that it hurts to think. So many emotions and feelings are swirling in your chest that you have no idea where to start to pick apart and process. All you know is that you want to get as far away from him as possible. How the tables have turned.

It’s freezing down in the garage, and Mr. Han has yet to arrive, much to your chagrin. The bubbling beneath the surface of your skin grows to a rage when you hear leather shoes pad onto the concrete.

“Angel-”

Oh, hell no! He doesn’t get to be casual. He doesn’t get to say your name. It’s not your real one, but it was real to him.

You twist around. “Don’t be informal."

Expression unchanged, he apologizes and corrects himself then steps forward with a hand held out, carrying your coat that you forgot upstairs.

You give it a side glance and snatch it away, tucking it under your crossed arms, because you prefer to be stubborn and cold. You refuse to face him, even when he clears his throat and takes another step towards you.

“Let me give you my number,” he says, reaching into his inside pocket to pull out his phone. An indignant laugh bubbles in your throat, too painful to let out.

Now… Now you get his number?? This is the universe laughing at you right in your face. You say nothing, not even acknowledging what he said, as if you didn’t hear him at all.

You just stare at the curb, desperately waiting for Mr. Han to pull up and take you away. In this moment, he’s your only friend in the world.

Seconds go by, and the man beside you reaches back into his jacket, trading his phone for… a pen? He then plucks out the white handkerchief folded neatly in his chest pocket, spreads it on his palm, and flicks the pen over it before passing it to you.

You stare at the handkerchief, at the numbers messily stained on the fabric, and crumple it in your hand, balling it into a tight fist.

Acting on autopilot with a question that’s been spinning around your mind since you shook his hand at dinner, you whip around to face him, faltering slightly when he’s closer than you realized. 

“Did you know?” you snap. “This whole time. Did you know about me?”

His face remains emotionless and even though he’s not wearing his shades, you can't see any kind of reaction in his eyes.

His adam’s apple bobs. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

Oh. So he wants to play games. And he’s a fucking coward.

"Then let’s get one thing clear,” you grit, holding up your pointer finger. “If you think I'm gonna be nice to you, think again. And since you couldn’t give a shit about me, don't pretend to be nice to me either."

You get right in his face, but he doesn’t react or move away, and you wonder what it would take for him to stand down.

“Cross me in any way, I’ll tell my brothers who you really are.”

You stare, unblinkingly, in his eyes, searching, waiting for any sign that he’s the least bit intimidated by your threat. But there’s nothing. Just blank, soulless eyes. And to think they once set your heart on fire. Now they’ve turned it to ash.

How you ever fell for them, you’ll never know.

Clearly, you’re a fool.

“We’ll see how long you last, Min Yoongi.”

When you get home, you decline all calls from your brothers and march into your room, not bothering to change, and dig through all of your unpacked boxes searching for an old plastic bag containing a hoodie and a chain that you’ve been carrying around with you for years but you don’t know why. You find Jungkook’s knife, but not the bag and now you’re left with the aftermath of a tornado on your bedroom floor. You spend all night putting everything in its place until the sun rises and your mind is numb, anything to ignore the swarm of angry wasps buzzing in your head because the man you’ve been trying so long to forget just somehow stuck himself in your life, like a knife in your chest.

For the rest of the day, you throw yourself back into the plethora of files you’ve poured over with Namjoon for what seems like hundreds of times. You go through all the budgets, contracts, blueprints, and black books until time bleeds into the late afternoon. But you can’t rest, for those harsh, dark eyes will come back to haunt you in your dreams. You’ll have flashbacks of that night, of him and it will only cause your chest to collapse into a black hole and swallow every last drop of color in your soul.

Jay saunters into the foyer, wolf-whistling upon seeing you and an unsettling feeling takes over when he walks up to you.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream come true?” he muses, shamelessly checking you out and you shoot him a fake smile.

“Thank you,” you say politely, borderline sarcastic, and focus your attention on your reflection in the mirror as you fix your hair and earrings, putting your best poker face on now that your fiancé is standing a few feet away.

“You’re having dinner with your brothers again?” “No, we’re meeting with the commission tonight.”

“Ah. Scary,” he says, a teasing smile on his face. You have a feeling that he actually thinks that, hence why he hasn’t offered up an opportunity to show you off, even though the commission consists entirely of men.

“Will you be alright?”

You don’t know how many times you’ve internally rolled your eyes since you’ve met him. Do you have ‘I’m helpless’ tattooed on your forehead or something?

“Yep. I shouldn’t be out too late.”

“Then I won’t wait up for you.” His tone is light like he’s still making jokes but you are in no joking mood so you bite your tongue. You weren’t expecting him to, nor would you want him to do that. Your phone pings and a rush of heat floods you when you know who it is, announcing his arrival.

“Okay. I think my ride’s here, so I’m gonna head out.”

“Let me walk you.” You want to argue that it’s not necessary, the less time spent interacting with him, the better.

Play nice, Angel, Jin's voice rings in your head. Play nice.

So, you let him accompany you down the hall, help you on with your coat, and open the door for you that you politely thank him for.

In the driveway, a waxed black palisade with tinted windows is parked parallel to the main entrance, exhaust running, and your nostrils flare when you see Min Yoongi - oh, excuse you, D - standing next to the passenger's side, waiting for you with his hands clasped.

“Who’s that?”

“The security my brothers hired,” you say nonchalantly, even though there’s a burning rage in your chest.

“Huh. I thought you had an older driver.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have any security experience, so.” You notice that your fiancé seems to be somehow bothered by that information, but you don’t press it because you really don’t fucking care.

“Well, have a good-” But he interrupts you, tearing his attention away from the car you’re dreading having to ride in.

“So, my dad wants us to have dinner with them. Maybe you can make some time next weekend? He’ll want to know how things are going at the casino.”

Oh, god. That is the last thing you want to do. Jay’s parents are extremely conservative and traditional, and you can’t imagine what they’ll have to say to you now that you’re living with their son. But again, you have to play nice.

“Sure, I’ll let you know my schedule.”

“Sounds good,” he nods and just as you start to turn, he grabs your hand, the one with the oversized diamond sitting on your ring finger, his head quickly moving from the driveway to lean in and kiss right on the jewel and it makes you feel a bit icky.

“I’ll see you later,” he says from your knuckles with a noticeable grin. You plaster on a tight smile and subtly retract your hand.

“Have a good night.” He nods and lets you go, watching as you make your way down the marble stairs, thinking to yourself this would be the time you might appreciate his help, considering you’re in heels and it’s freezing outside. But you don’t really want him to touch you again so you rely on the railing.

“Take care of my fiancée for me!” Jay calls out as you make it off the porch. Your eyes roll back so far in your head you have to close them and walk blindly for a few seconds. As you approach the car, you keep your head down, refusing to see how D responds to that. Although you don’t think he would, since he’s given you no indication that he even has emotions anymore as of yet.

From one man that pisses you off to the next. To say you're fuming would be an understatement.

Wearing a sleek black suit, a long winter coat to match, and, since it’s still light out, those dark sunglasses, he bows to you in greeting before opening the door, gesturing for you to get in.

"Good evening," he says as you approach, and you don’t reply, don't even look at him. You hate him, you really do, so why is it that his dark, quiet yet thunderous voice makes your heart skip a beat?

You feel his gaze on you as you reach for the back door, completely ignoring him, and slide into the warm car, slamming the door shut before scooting to sit behind the driver's side. You don’t want to be tempted to look at him in the rear-view mirror.

The passenger door closes and you whip out your phone, refusing to stare at the man swiftly striding around the front of the car. As he does, you wonder why the fuck he thought you would want to sit next to him. You’ve never felt comfortable treating your drivers like chauffeurs but this driver is a special case and you hope that he’s gotten the message.

When he gets in and shuts out the cold, you're suddenly overwhelmed by the loud, attractive scent of his cologne and aftershave, a certain musk and mint to it that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head for a split second. Fuck, he smells good, even with a hint of a cigarette. And expensive. You can only imagine the type of salary your brothers smuggle into his wallet, especially now that your safety is his sole responsibility. Protection like that doesn’t come cheap.

You dare him to say anything else, so you get out your case of earbuds with the intention to blast music and drown him out. But before you can shove them in, a stack of manila folders hangs in front of your face, held by long, thin fingers decorated by chunky silver rings, and for a second you want to ask him what the fuck he’s doing, triggered by the fact that you’re so fucking over looking through files, even more so for him to be dumping more on you.

“What’s this?” you grumble, teeth clenching as you reluctantly accept the folders and draw them into your lap.

“Your brother wanted me to find you an assistant, so these are five candidates,” he explains, voice slightly muffled by the engine and from speaking to the windshield. “Take your pick and I’ll set up an interview.”

You can’t help your genuine surprise as you look over the spread he handed you, each file neatly organized with resumes, backgrounds, references and head shots. You wish he fucked something up so you'd have an excuse to call him incompetent, but he did his homework. And if he got all of this together since last night, then he’s more diligent than you want to give him credit for.

You swallow a scoff. "I'm allowed to choose? I didn't think I got a say.” 

"If you didn't, I wouldn't be giving you options."

"Are you sure?” You snark, face buried in the files. “I know you answer to my brother, and you wouldn't want to get in any trouble."

A beat passes. "He's not my boss. You are."

Well. That is... the last thing you thought he would say. And you never would've considered yourself his boss.

Oh. You're going to have fun with this.

“These are all men,” you scowl after you flip through all of the resumes.

Yeah, just what you need.

You lean forward to toss the files on the passenger's seat, papers scattering onto the floor. Your instincts urge you to apologize and offer to clean up the mess, but your pride has you sitting back with your arms crossed, looking out of the tinted window indifferently.

“You could’ve saved yourself a lot of trouble if you’d just asked me what I was looking for. But I guess you don’t really care what I want, do you?”

You spare a glance into the rearview mirror, the top half of his face clearly visible, but… you still can’t tell if he’s looking at you. You don’t wait for a response, not thinking there’s anything he could say anyway, and let your earbuds do the job of shutting him out.

It isn’t until you’re halfway to your destination that you realize you didn’t text him at all until an hour before you had to leave, so how could he have contacted you before that? That’s beside the point.

He should know what you’re really throwing in his face.

The car barely pulls to a stop in front of the warehouse when a small group of guards swarm around to flank the doors. Taking out your earbuds, you stare out of the tinted windows at the suited men looking all around to make sure you’re in the clear. You feel anything but assured.

One guard is standing right in front of the door, essentially blocking you inside, and D gets out, apparently needing to be the one to open it for you and assist in your exit.

The air is crisp and cold when your heels hit the gravel, and you don’t miss the way D’s palm flips up as you start to stand, playing it off when you intentionally ignore the gesture by lifting his wrist to his mouth to speak into the mic connected to his earpiece that runs under his sleeve.

You shiver when you step out and D shuts the door, holding an arm out to signal you to walk forward, pressing a finger into his earpiece. The guards fall into formation around you, one in front, one on either side, and D right behind you. This level of protection feels a bit too much as they escort you into the maze of shipping containers, you aren’t the president or some A-list celebrity, but you’re about to walk into a den of wolves, so you can’t go without a pack of your own.

They lead you through the arid warehouse, filled with shelves of boxes ready to ship out on the harbor, some legal, most illicit. In the very back is a steel door, and the leading guard opens it, takes a look down in the stairwell, and beckons you forward. You step into the hallway and catch a glimpse of the emergency exit, door wedged open by a… silver cigarette case? That looks very much like the one you saw your brother slip out of his coat this morning and sneak outside before Jin came down for breakfast. You head for it and a guard puts a hand out to stop you, but you push past him, D calls for you, but you pay no attention and pop open the door, hesitating when Jungkook flinches and whips back his jacket, hand reaching for something in his waistband.

“Jesus, Angel,” he grumbles, letting go of his jacket to cover the handle of his gun, and takes a heavy drag of the cigarette. You bend down to pick up his silver case and the door doesn’t close and you don’t doubt that D is the one holding it open.

“Relax, it’s just lil ole me,” you say, eyebrow raising when he shoots a glare your way. "What's up, bro?"

“What was last night about?" he asks, a hot start. He leans over to snatch the case out of your hands.

“Hey!”

"Are you done being an asshole? You were pretty rude to hyung last night. And D and Hope.” His tone is testy as smoke pours from his lips.

Crossing your arms, you prop yourself on the wall with a huff and an eyeroll.

“Well, that depends. Are you done keeping things from me?” He sighs and scratches the wrinkle between his brows with his thumbnail.

“We knew you wouldn’t like it, so that’s why we waited to tell you.” “What about any of this do you think that I like?” You blurt in a raised voice that gets lost in the frigid breeze. He stares at you for a moment before looking away to take a drag, a tick in his jaw. You aren’t being fair, you know. Your brother is in the exact same boat. Neither of you signed up for this, but at least he wasn’t thrown into the fire at the last minute with little to no time to process anything. And his life isn't being guarded by someone who broke his heart.

"You can't be that way in there."

“I know. I'm sorry,” you try to recover. “It’s just-” As you stare out at the run-down docks, you can’t think of a way to explain what you’re sorry for. Instead, you swivel to face him and step up with a beckoning hand in the air.

“Can I have one?” Flicking ash on the brick, his expression changes to level you with a hesitant look.

“Since when do you smoke?” You don’t really, hating the taste and the smell, but the kind of cigarettes that your brother buys isn’t as pungent and disgusting. Sometimes a little nicotine helps to take the edge off.

“Since I found out I’m about to become a criminal.”

He rolls his eyes. “What do you mean ‘about to’? Haven’t you been arrested before?”

“Not recently!” you exclaim. He’s one to talk! “And besides, that was for petty theft and I wasn’t even charged.”

“Don’t forget the time you spent a night in jail when you got caught speed racing. Hyung was so pissed he had to fly all the way out there to bail your dumb ass out.” Jungkook tilts forward, crossing his ankles as he chuckles out a puff of smoke.

“Well, it’s your fault I even know how to race.” He opens his mouth to argue but you shut him down. “Do you want me to go ahead and list out your rap sheet too? We would be here all night.”

“Go to hell.” You laugh at his disgruntled scowl.

“I’ll meet you there. Give me your lighter or I’ll tell Jin you started smoking again.”

He shakes his head, both of you knowing damn well that Jin would not approve of the two of you chain smoking.

“Don’t be a tattletale.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite.”

“No,” he grumbles. “You shouldn’t be smoking.”

“You shouldn’t either!”

“I know. I’m quitting soon and I'm not about to let you start.”

With a reluctant huff, you lean back against the wall, watching smoke billow out into the night sky. The both of you shiver in silence. It’s quiet out here, save for the sounds of a ship horn blaring in the distance, and the wind whistling into the alley from the docks that carries the smells of fresh water and the old rotting wood of the piers. Scents like these usually bring a sense of calm into your soul, but tonight, anxiety overrides them all. You doubt even nicotine could do anything to ease the disquietude in your head.

“I’m scared,” you confess. You glance over to see him staring down at nothing in particular, not blinking as he smokes and you want him to tell you that he is too, but he’s in no position to be. Not anymore. It used to show in his jaw, in between his brows, the rapid blinking of his eyes, but there’s none of that now. Looking at him now, gone is the boy you grew up with. And you know that’s because of how hard he worked to rid himself of all that fear, just like Jin, and what you have to do too.

“There’s no reason to be.” You look away with a frown, clearly not what you needed to hear, but his hand on your shoulder forces you to turn back.

“Listen. No one can do anything to us once they find out who we are.” You shrug off his hand. He takes a drag and blows it away from your face.

“Who’s to say they won’t?”

“Me. After tonight, I own this city and everything that belongs to us. That includes you, Angel. We’re not the ones who should be afraid.”

“Boss, it’s time to go.” You glance over your shoulder where a single, flickering light above the door shines down on D’s head as he holds it open with a flattened hand. You turn back to your brother as he sucks in a final drag before dropping the butt and squishing it under his heel. Exhaling smoke up to the sky, he hooks an arm around your shoulder and begins walking you to the door, not letting you fight your way out of his hold.

“We got this, sis.” You roughly push him and he finally lets go, clicking your tongue when he laughs at your glare.

“You do,” you mutter, straightening out your coat and smoothing down your dress. Nervous habits. He stops and grabs your elbow.

“It’s us now. We’re in this together, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe through a scared smile.

You keep your head up as you walk past D who slides against the door to put distance between you, yet still close enough to catch another whiff of his cologne. One breath and you’re aggravated that it’s him, another breath and the scent filters into your senses, leaving an undeniable calm.

Back inside, Jungkook claps a hand on D’s shoulder as the guards return to their formation to lead you down the stairs and into the den. Before you enter, you can tell just how crowded it is from the sounds of chatter and laughter that drips exorbitant wealth, and the accompanying stench of thick illegal cigars that makes your nose itch.

Jungkook walks around you to be the first one in the room and a wave of anxiety skids your heels to a stop. A presence that you’re coming to know all too well looms behind you, like he’s your shadow. More like a demon. Your eyes close to quell the drum pounding in your chest.

“After you,” he mutters, the sinful thunder in his voice mere inches away from your ear sending a shiver down your spine, eyes flying open and feet moving on their own accord to get away from it.

Fuck. That.

The ringing in your ears that stems from his voice and low-spoken words rumbling in a loop through your mind aids you in your ability to shut out the room and the way it quiets down as you walk to the head of the table where your brothers stand in wait for you. The rest of the men are also already standing and it just makes their intense, collective stare on you that much more stifling.

You remove your coat and a hand stretches out beside you that you silently allow to take your coat. Jin gestures for you to sit on his right, across from Jungkook, and waves for the commission to take their seats as well. Behind you, the doors close and one glance to the side shows D getting into place with your brothers guards by the adjacent wall, holding your coat.

With a polite, reserved expression, you take a sweep of the room and observe that these men are an assortment of strange faces and ones you’ve seen in Namjoon’s files. They’re all young and old. Father and son. Leaving you as the outlier. And that causes a lump in your throat.

Jin launches into introducing you and Jungkook, and all you can do is keep your back straight and hands on the table, respectfully paying attention as he explains how now that he’s going on the lam, the family heads will defer to Jungkook, and their crews and associates will report to you for any and all financial endeavors at the casino. As Jin speaks these plans into reality, you finally begin to feel the full pressure and burden of your impending responsibilities.

And this time your brother won't be there to bail you out.

The members offer your end of the table diplomatic nods of acknowledgement and subtle darting eyes between you and Jungkook.

But just as Jin gives Jungkook the floor, a deep, condescending laugh resounds from across the table, belonging to a smug, rugged man wearing thick chains and even thicker rings. All attention snaps to his interruption and your skin crawls when he fixes you with a leering, patronizing stare.

“I’m sorry, but with all due respect, do you really think your junkie brother can handle being in charge?” 

Your eyebrows cross at the audacity. He’s speaking as if Jin is not the reigning top boss of this entire room and Jungkook is not about to step in and fill his shoes. There’s a slur to his words and the near empty decanter next to his glass indicates that he’s imbibed and probably incognizant. Because who in their right mind would dare to provoke the kingpin of the city’s mob syndicate like this.

You look over to Jin, expecting him to call out the man’s blatant disrespect, but both him and Jungkook are staring the man down with darkness and anger that you’ve never seen before. Perhaps they’re just giving him the chance to dig himself into a hole so deep he’ll have to stay there.

“And what about her?” the man with a greasy mustache points at you. “I don’t know if I can trust her capabilities with dealing business at the casino. I mean, what does she know?”

He’s underestimating you and you’re sure he’s not alone in that. Everyone else is just smart enough to keep their mouths shut. You feel the urge to pull your hands into your lap to frown at, but you just lean back in your chair, maintaining a cool expression as you wait for him to spew more of his bullshit.

“Yeah, sure they were born with the purpose of serving your father, but we all know they weren’t raised like you. So how can they possibly be prepared to take over in your place?”

“Because they’re my blood,” Jin finally says, voice steady and reasonable. But his narrowed eyes and blown out pupils tells you he’s anything but.

“Only by half,” he sneers. “Wasn’t their mother some low-life maid?” You feel choked by the mention of your mother and wonder just how much this man and the rest of the commission know about you beyond what they’re entitled to. Your chest squeezes when you catch eyes with Jungkook as he furiously picks at his fingers, probably not realizing he’s even doing it. 

“See, that’s where the don went wrong. Choosing a peasant to procreate his back-up heirs with. Their blood doesn’t really count, at least not in my book.” Lee looks around as if to see who else is on his side, but no one takes their attention off of Jin as he rises and digs a hand onto Jungkook’s shoulder.

“He is the don now.”

Lee scoffs. “He’s a junkie! Just like your father.” Your fingers clench into a tight fist, the urge to stand up for your brother sending a violent rush through your veins.

“Watch your fucking mouth, Lee,” Jin growls in a malicious tone. “You’re forgetting your place. Don’t make me remind you.”

“My place,” Lee chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. He picks up his glass and bangs it on the table with a thud. “My place should be at the head of that fucking table with my son, not these little children. We should be the next in line now that you’re resigning!” “I’m not resigning,” Jin barks, fixing the entire room with a dead serious glare. “I’m leaving to avoid prison. Because if I go down, I’m taking everyone with me. Do I make myself fucking clear?”

Jin’s power reverberates off of the walls and it carves away some of your anxiety. He points a stern finger at Lee.

“They are the rightful heirs, just as I am, and I won’t throw away all of what I’ve built just because you don’t accept that.”

“What your father built,” Lee spits in contempt. Jin bends down with a heavy slam of his hands on the wood surface. “What my family built. And what my brother and sister will continue to build because it’s theirs now.” “Do they know that’s the only reason why they were born? Well, him at least.” Your face contorts in confusion when he points at Jungkook. Jin lifts his hands from the table and the tension in the room grows thicker as he stands tall. “Excuse me?” “It’s a fair question. Does she know that when there were rumors that Don Kim had a daughter, he adamantly denied it?”

Your heart pounds in your ears when Lee slides his beady eyes to you, fingernails digging into your sweaty palms.

“You were a mistake, sweetheart,” he lilts with an ugly, crooked grin. “What use would he have with a girl? All you’re good for now is playing trophy wife to appease the son of your father’s biggest investor. You’re just a pawn in his business plan, you have no real value.”

“Lee, that’s enough-” Jin snarls.

“Lee Dong-wook, right?” you starkly interject, staring unwaveringly at him and his rising eyebrow. “Didn’t you lose your business in the east harbors when you failed to keep quota and you couldn’t control disputes between the local gangs? I can’t remember exactly how much money and how many men you cost my brothers but I know it was a lot.”

Lee’s jaw drops, rendered speechless. A raging vein begins to bulge on the side of his forehead, turning his face beet red now that you’re doing the job of tearing him down from his high horse.

“But at least you still have this side of the harbor so you can trade paraphernalia with other parts of the coast. Like these.” You reach forward for a box of cigars in front of Jungkook, only to find it empty. To your surprise and everyone else's, you stand and move to pass behind your brothers, ignoring Jin’s hushed, “What are you doing?” as you walk over to Lee, hoping to exert some intimidation by standing your ground over him. You try to disregard the fact that he is twice your size and far more muscular but Jungkook’s words from earlier remind you that no one can hurt you now. The shadow that follows you will ensure that.

You spot another cigar box next to Lee and another older man, and no one says anything as you lean in between them to take one out, snatching up one of the lighters as well. Holding up the cigar beneath your nose, you inhale the strong flavored mix of coffee and leather.

“Hmm, not bad,” you reflect, analyzing the stamped label before you unravel the plastic. “Kind of cheap, but I guess the tobacco isn’t what your customers are actually after. It’s smart, smuggling amphetamines in these. Just ironic that you move rock for a living but have the nerve to call my brother a junkie. I don't doubt you take samples.”

The wrapper you crumple and the lighter you flick open to fire up the cigar become the only sounds in the room. After disposing of the metal and plastic on the table, you place the wrapped leaf between your teeth and brace yourself as you take a smooth drag.

“And you must be stupid if you think I don’t know that my father didn’t want me,” you say, blowing smoke up to the ceiling while you do your best to pretend that the strong hit isn’t scratching the hell out of your throat. You glance back down to Lee whose eyes are on the brink of bulging right out of their sockets.

“But you see, I’m not here for him. I’m here for them,” you point the cigar over your shoulder at Jin and Jungkook.

“You sure they’re not forcing you?” Lee challenges, tongue thick with rage causing specks of saliva to catch on his mustache. Gross. “No one can force me to do anything,” you reply calmly. “I’ll do whatever it takes for my brothers.” A moment passes, and then another, with no response and you think you’ve made your case. But just as you’re about to give up the facade that you’re enjoying this piss-awful cigar, Lee harshly gruffs out, “Would you kill for them, little girl?”

Tilting your head, your mind races as you imagine all the ways you could show him how far you’re willing to go for both of them. A small smile creeps onto the corner of your lips around the cigar.

“Do you want to find out?” His mustache twitches. You blow smoke in its direction. “Are you threatening me?” “You tell me,” you shrug. “If anything, I’d be doing you a favor.”

“Pardon?” You lazily tap the cigar, unphased when the ash falls to the floor, some of it on Lee’s lap, earning a menacing glower.

“It sounds like you have a death wish. Coming in here and disrespecting my brothers even though you can’t do a goddamn thing without their say so. They own you and, now, so do I.”

Lee doesn’t break your stare but by the curl of his fist on the arm of the chair and his cheeks that tinge an even darker red, you’ve severely pissed him off. “You don’t have what it takes to kill me.” Taking that as a challenge, you reach down, lift the hem of your slacks, and snatch out the knife nestled in the strap around your calf. In a flash, you bring your sharp silver blade to the vein on his thick neck, smoke from the cigar dangerously close to his sideburns. “Wanna bet?”

A commotion erupts around you as one of Lee’s men move to defend him at a moment’s notice, weapon threatening to withdraw and your pulse glitches for a second at the potential danger. That is until a figure behind you pushes away Lee’s guard and you know without looking that it’s Jungkook coming to your aid. And next to him is that dark and menacing man smelling of mint and musk and intimidation.

“Well, I bet you’d hate to get killed by a girl. So I’ll save you your dignity.”

Lowering your knife, you lean away but pause when a goading sneer grows on his ugly mug.

“You’re weak. Just like your brother who can’t even man up and take responsibility for the casino because of what happened to his little-” Before he can finish that sentence that would have Jungkook flying off the handle, you stab the burning end of your cigar on the back of his hand, twisting a sear into his skin until he leaps up with a shriek.

“You bitch!” The cigar plants itself on the side of his neck, until your wrist is grabbed and ripped away, tobacco falling to the floor, just like the man who dared to put hands on you. As you’re pulled back by your brother, off to the side is D manhandling Lee’s guard into submission, face pressed into the wall with a gun shoved into the side of his head. Your brothers’ guards surround you and there’s a standoff with Lee’s men, the rest of the room watching on in shock, no one else daring to move lest they get caught in impending crossfire.

“Weapons down, now,” Jin’s terse voice booms. The guns slowly lower but the fierce glares remain pinned on opposite sides.

“Lee. You’re dismissed.” You think that’s code for, I’m not going to kill you in front of my sister. You’re positive if you weren’t present, this night would’ve ended in bloodshed.

“Have fun getting whacked,” you grin devilishly at Lee who can’t decide which burn hurts worse. “I hope your last thought is of my pretty face.”

In brazen stupidity, Lee steps forward but before his foot can even touch the ground, he’s sent flying back with your brother’s fists in his collar. A hand on your elbow tugs you away from the chaos you created, but you can’t look away from it, like it’s a car crash. But D steps in front of you just as you’re dragged to the front of the room by your brother. Your coat is swung around your shoulders and suddenly you’re facing Jin who guides you to the door. D appears right by your side.

“I knew you had it in you, kiddo,” Jin says with a proud glint in his eyes. On the other side of the room, your brother’s guards are doing their best to keep Jungkook and Lee apart as they usher him to the exit.

“D, take her home.”

The backseat of the car is warm on the ride home. Your hands are shaking, surely from the adrenaline. That’s when it hits you, what you just did. Fuck. You’ve never acted that way before, never purposely hurt someone because you didn’t like what they said.

But you liked it. The power you had, and the confidence it gave you. And that scares you. 

“Are you okay?” D asks tentatively. It’s then that you realize you’ve been crying. You flick a defiant tear from your cheek and wrap your arms tighter around yourself.

“What do you care?” you mumble bitterly. The rest of the drive is spent in silence. If you were sitting up front, you would’ve seen the way his fingers flexed on the steering wheel.

When he pulls up to your house, you quickly get out even though he starts to say something, desperate to be inside, away from him and the cold and everything that happened. 

You don’t know why your office has become your safe haven, but you return there and collapse into one of the armchairs, weighed down by tonight, and what’s in store. Not to mention the extra weight added on your chest because of D.

So you cry. You cry until you're practically dehydrated, but you don't think that could stop you with how much you're hurting. That is until you hear a knock on your office door. It startles you, you’ve never expected anyone to check on you, especially not your fiancé. Were you crying so loud that he could hear you all the way across the house? You don't think that much of it, too busy getting a hold of yourself to look presentable before cracking open the door.

His face is overshadowed by the hallway light, and you can't see his eyes that well. You try to hide your swollen, tear-streaked cheeks from him, but he peers over the door with a small yet gentle smile.

"What's wrong? Did things not go well with the commission?”

You quickly wipe away any stray tears, putting on a brave face as you open the door a little further.

"Ah, well. It was just a lot, y’know?” You scramble, because you can't actually tell him what's wrong. Obviously. You don't think you'll ever be able to tell anyone. And you definitely don’t want to admit that you’re being weak.

"I do. Everything will be okay. It'll all take some adjustment." Huh. That's... comforting, coming from him. Like he understands.

"So, I was just in the kitchen, raiding the pantries for some snacks. Would you care to join?"

“Sure. You, uh,” you tug your sleeves over your hands, clenching them with cold fingers. “You couldn’t hear me from all the way out there, right?”

He turns his back to you with a laugh, leading you down the hallway.

“No, but I noticed you came home late and, well, I just wanted to see how things went. But I wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk to me.”

“You said you wouldn’t wait up.” “I was joking, but I guess it didn’t land well. You might have to get used to my sense of humor.” That was humor?

Damn. When did you get so mean?

On the island counters in the expansive kitchen, he sets out some bowls and fills them with snacks as you take a seat on one of the tall stools.

“Do you like any of these?” “Sure,” you shrug, reaching for one of the bowls.

“If there’s anything you want, put it on a list and I can send it off to be picked up.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I can do my own shopping. Thanks, though.” You’ll have to text your brothers later to tell them how right you are about him.

“Alright, well let me know if you change your mind. I’m just trying to help out.”

You nod, chewing pensively, and he shakes his head to change the subject.

“Anyway, can you tell me what happened tonight? That made you so upset.”

You carefully retell bits and pieces of the meeting, leaving out the part when you stabbed an old man twice with a cigar. You give him the gist of how the family heads might not entirely back the idea of you and Jungkook gaining control of the syndicate, to which Jay tells you they’ll have to get over it because you’re just doing your family duty.

For a while, you chat, finding that conversation with your fiance comes a little easier than you thought. You guess you just had to give it a chance. He gives you his support for some of the plans you have for the casino renovations and even offers to take a look at the blueprints. He cracks corny jokes every now and then that you have to force a bit of laughter because sometimes they don’t make sense, but you don’t entirely loathe this whole interaction.

He is very charming; you'll give him that. But you still have a prickly feeling that it’s all just an act to be good to you in order to impress your brothers and get on their good side. And once they’re out of sight, no longer around to look out for you, he’ll show his true colors. Maybe you’re just jaded and bitter.

But you don’t think you should let your guard down just yet.

You won’t make the same mistake again.

.

.

.

lmaoooo originally i was aiming for a 12-14k word count. whoops. but it's finally here! this has been a whirlwind. I've been wanting to get this out for a while but i've been kind of nervous about it. honestly im glad i waited because so many things came together for this part that i didn't have before. sorry for the wait.

xxx - claret

thank you for reading 😊

let me know what you think!!! <333

masterlist

taglist:

@viankiss @taegijns @polarnightmyg @rinkud @futuristicenemychaos

[dumblilb]

I don’t wanna talk

Vi x Bartender!Reader

(Synopsis: Vi’s been having a hard time recently. You decide to give her a little relief.)

(Warnings: !SMUT MDNI!, lesbian sex, Sub!Vi, oral (both!r), thigh riding (vi!r), strap (vi!r), begging, mentions of alcohol, profanity, crying from overstim, a little angst but not really, kinda fluff)

(Requested: Yes)

(Word count: 2,823)

* ・゚☆ 。・ * ・゚★ 。・ * ・゚☆ * ・゚★。*

As her newly dark hair falls over her eyes all she could think about was how angry she was. It hadn’t even quite hit her yet why. Maybe it was her bruised knuckles, and the way they made her hands look so ruff against your skin. Or the fact that the lights were blinding her eyes. But as she looked up at you over the bar counter, she knew she had one thing to be surely mad at. You were gonna probably gonna send her home.

She held your forearm with a small bit of pressure. Putting the drink you were making for your final customer of the night on pause.

“Please. I need a drink. Just one.” Vi pleads. She looks tired. Her shoulders are slightly slouched and her eyes look sullen. You can’t help but sigh. This is the third night this week you’ve denied her service. Normally you can’t help but place down another beer for a drunkerd. A few extra dollars in your pocket from some rando isn’t the worst thing in the world. But when it’s your friend that’s when it gets complicated.

“Vi, I’m off in a minute. Just let me finish making this and you can come with me back to mine. Okay?” You smile softly. Her grip on your arm loosens and she looks at you for a second, debating her answer. Did she really want you to take her home and put her to bed. Her eyes flicker to the softness in your eyes. And the way your chest moved delicately up and down while you breathed. Actually that doesn’t sound like a bad idea right now. Maybe she wasn’t that upset after all.

“Fine. Just-“ She breathes out heavy, hanging her head. “Don’t make me wait too long.” She lets up on your arm and walks over to the exit waiting for you. You can’t help but stare at her as you clean up and clock out. Her jacket is slung over her shoulder. The fabric molding to the sweat covered muscles of her back. Like an unruly child she scrapes her large leather boots across the floor back n forth. Almost in protest of you testing her level of patience.

You walk over to her and she gives you a slight tinge of a smile as she wraps her arm around your shoulders.

“You’re getting sweat on me.” You grimace. She just places a peck on your cheek with a stuck up grin.

“You love it.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever done anything to give you that impression.” You roll your eyes. But the undeniable smile covering your face gives her the courage she needs for the night.

The walk home was quick since you live not too far. Which vi was pleased about. The second you unlocked the door she pulled you into your own home, leading you to your room.

“What the hell are you doing.” You can’t help but laugh.

“Nothing I just wanna talk.” She says sitting down on your bed. Discarding her boots and jacket to the floor.

“Talk?” You question. You’re used to her flirting. She’s done it her whole life. She’s never really not been a charmer. But ever since she started doing those pit fights and coming to find you at the bar afterwards, it’s been a little intense. She started coming as a way to see you. She’d buy a drink. Chat you up. Get turned down. And she’d buy another. You could tell she was just sad and lonely. So you didn’t really give the idea of it the time of day. But as the drinking became more intense you got worried. She only seemed to become more upset the more times you sent her on her way. Beer in hand. You’d started to think you definitely fucked up. And she wasn’t joking around.

“Can’t remember the last time we talked about anything other than how bad you want me.” You tease, trying to keep the energy light. Maybe just this once. You’d try and see how this goes.

“You know I’ve had a really shitty day. Lost my match. And the only thing that’s made me feel better is the sight of you. You seem to have that effect on me recently.” She states as you sit down next to her. She leans to rest her head down softly on your shoulder. You don’t quite know how to react to what she’s just said. Her breath is hitting your skin sending a shiver down your back. You go to rest your hand to her cheek bringing her to face you, but she pulls back almost like a flinch. You ease her in closer.

“I don’t think I wanna talk right now.” You whisper, leaning in slightly to close the gap. She almost gasps at the contact but finds composure and melts into the kiss. All she could think about for weeks was how you would feel against her. If your lips were soft or if your eyelashes would flutter against her cheeks. But nothing could have prepared her for how heavenly you would feel.

The softness of your lips had her entranced as she pulled you in for more. Leaning into you making you fall back on your arms, deeper into your bed. She parts for a second, taking in your face. The way your eyes dart from hers to her lips. The way they your lips stay open slightly. Like they’re inviting her back in. You take the chance and kiss her again. Guiding her body up into a sitting position. Practically straddling your hips. You place a hand to her chest, feeling up to her neck. You could feel her heart racing under your touch. Deep breaths wracked her body as you fiddled with the wraps around her torso.

“Can I?” You question and she continues to kiss you, moving down your neck.

“Please.” She exhales and you start removing them. Much too slow for her taste. She’s antsy, nipping at your skin as you work. You finally get it off and take a second to admire her. She beautiful. Her skin is pale but it glimmers with sweat as she pants. You run your fingers over her chest, caressing her softly making her look at you nervously. What if you didn’t like them. What if-

“God you’re fucking perfect.” You exclaim quietly, placing soft kisses upon them. Her head falls back as you enclose on of them in your mouth. Putting your tongue to work, rolling over her nipple gently with your other hand.

Her hand grips your thigh tightly as a way to cope with the new sensation. She runs her other over your head till you pull back. She looks at you slightly confused till you begin removing your top, making her eyes go wide. The black bra still covering your chest doesn’t keep her from gawking. She slides off your lap for a second, hastily removing her own black jeans leaving her in just a pair of boxers in front of you. Her happy trail on display. Scooting forward you grab her hand placing it on your own pants. Giving her permission to remove them.

She bends down in front of you, sliding them over your hips and down your legs. Running her fingers up your thighs she starts to spread them apart, but you urge her back onto your lap.

“You said you had a bad day? Let me make you feel good.” You breathe into her ear, teasing her boxers off with your fingertips. Which she is now eagerly ripping off. Placing her, now noticeably wet, core down on one of your thighs. You grip her hips with a bit of force. Guiding them in a back in forth motion. She lets out a soft grunt as she slowly picks up the pace. Resting her head in the crook of your neck, she sloppily places small pecks to your collar bone. Her hands gripping your waist to keep steady.

Each motion she made caused a moan to leave her lips. They started quiet but as her legs became shaky you’d remind her how good she was doing. You rock your leg up into her, making the whining become louder. Her voice barely sounding legible between gasps, as she pleads with you.

“Fuck! I- I can’t…” She lets out, whipping her head back. You just smile at her softly. You roll over onto the bed, bringing her under you. Her hair falling back out of her face, leaving you with her wide eyed expression. She’s confused as to why you stopped her from finishing, till you get down on your knees beside the bed. Pulling her legs towards you and resting them on your shoulders. Her toned thighs clenched around you in anticipation as you leave little kisses to the area.

She’s starts to get needy, grinding her hips upward towards your lips when you grip her tightly. Looking up at her flushed face. Any makeup she was wearing earlier was fully smudged off and beads of sweat dripped down her abs as her deep breaths made each one flex just a little. It makes your brain spin a little as she looks at you with softness. Eyes pleading with you. Practically begging for relief.

“Please-“ She starts to say when you run your tongue through her folds. Her whole body melts into the bed. Each dip into her making her squirm as you work your way to her clit. Tonguing it with swift motion. Loud grunts leave her lips as she grips your head trying to push you in closer. She wants more. Which is fine. You have much more to give.

Coming up for air you slightly knock her hand out of the way. You begin holding her hips up with nothing but your own strength. Her legs fully over your shoulders. She tries to help by holding herself up with her forearms. But as you begin sucking on the sensitive area she gives up. An echoing moan leaves her as her core starts to tense up. Gripping your sheets tightly, she holds her eyes closed. Almost embarrassed to face you like this. Weak and to your will.

Her hips start to twitch. And before you could even prepare she’s a mess under you. Her release covering your mouth. She lays there panting for a minute while you gently set her down. Leaving wet kisses up her body, till you’re lying against her. Bringing her lips you yours, letting her taste herself. She holds you tight as if scared you would leave. Bitting slightly at your lips. Just enough to claim her stake. Her hand falls to your underwear line and she starts to inch closer to your core. You couldn’t help but peek to see the way her tattoos flowed with her muscles at each movement.

Moving your hips forward you allow her to start softly running her fingers through your folds. A small murmur of pleasure creeps out making her smile into the kiss. Applying light pressure she moves in circular motions, moving her kisses down your neck. Nipping at it slightly. The louder you get the faster she goes. The restriction of your panties upsets her so she takes a pause to slide them off and gets right back to it.

You place your hand on hers and guide it down to your entrance. She understands quickly and moves to be more on top of you. Holding one of your thighs down slightly with her leg. Holding herself up with one of her arms, her other glides its first finger into your core gently. She hesitates for a moment before you impatiently buck your hips, letting her know it’s okay to start moving.

She starts gingerly. Nervous almost. But as you whisper words of encouragement under your breath she starts to pick up the pace. Each thrust making you squirm under her. As her speed increases you bring one of your own hands down to massage your clit. The feeling of another finger entering makes a warmth start building in your stomach. Vi grunts as she continues. Her eyes not leaving you. The way your chest moves at her motions could make her drool. She starts to curl her fingers upward inside you and your pace becomes faster. But it’s sloppy, and a lack of composure becomes apparent.

“Fuck! Vi don’t stop… don’t fucking stop.” You say stern, even in your current state. Your legs start to shake under her and with a last pump the feeling in your stomach releases making your whole body tense against her. She slowly starts to remove her fingers, placing them in her mouth to lick them clean. Under heavy lids you look at her with a smirk. She liked the way you tasted. You could see it on her face. She was pussy drunk.

Sitting up you move to reach under the bed. Grabbing what you need from the box you kept there. She looks at you curious till you bring it into her view. The hot pink strap, now sitting on your lap, makes her eyes go wide.

“Do you want me too..” She starts but as you get up and start to tighten it around your hips, she understands. “Oh!”

“Is this okay?” You check walking towards her position at the edge of the bed. She nods her head rapidly making you chuckle a bit. Pink dusting over her cheeks as you stand between her legs. Cupping her face you rub your thumb across her tattoo, taking in the way she looks. Even in the dark her powder blue eyes sparkle. Her hair can’t help fall slightly in the way of her view. Which in this moment is not something she’s fond of. She wants to see you.

Leaning down, you delicately leave a kiss to her forehead. Grabbing her hand in the process. You pull her up to stand in front of you.

“Turn around.” You muse and she looks at you a little confused, following instructions anyways. The sight of her tattoo covering her back makes you take a deep breath. God she’s so fucking hot. You rub your hands down her back, tracing each line of ink. She shivers slightly under your touch reminding you of what you were doing in the first place. Bending her over, she places her knees and hands down onto the bed and braces herself. Climbing up to bring your pelvis to her ass, you position yourself.

Caressing her hips softly you question “ready?” And you see her nod.

Pushing the tip of the strap in slowly you let her get accustomed to the feeling. A audible moan leaves her and you place a kiss to her back. Finding yourself a rhythm you begin thrusting into her. Slow at first, not to scare her. But then she started begging for it.

“Please! Faster.” She groaned, spreading her legs a bit wider. Which allowed for you to go deeper. Your thighs hitting her ass making as slapping noise echo in the room. But it was hard to hear over the loud whines that escapes her mouth. She can’t help but curse your name as you apply some pressure to her back, making her arch deeper. Holding her hips tightly to secure the motion. Her arms give out and her torso becomes flesh with the sheets. Arms up above her head. She turns slightly back to look at you. Reaching under you start to rub her off while continuing to slam into her.

“Holy shit!” She exclaims trying to hide her face behind her arm, but you stop her.

“Pretty girl, I need you to look at me.” You smile and she moves her arm. Small tears gather in her eyes from the overstimulation on her pussy. You get concerned for a second but when her legs start to twitch a little she practically begs for you to go harder. It only takes a few more pumps before her legs give out and you can feel warmth covering your hand. Easing out of her, you pull out and remove the strap from your hips.

She lays there, body sprawled out across your bed. Her eyes are closed but she has a grin adorning her face. A slight flush on her skin apparent. Quickly placing a kiss to her shoulder, you get up to grab a damp towel. Coming back to sit next to her.

“Come here.” You bring her closer to begin wiping her down. Cleaning her off. She looks up at you with a grin. She puts a hand to your cheek, pulling your lips down to hers. The kiss is gentle and needy. She just wants to feel you. Resting her forehead to yours she sighs.

“You okay?” You question, caressing her arm softly.

“My day just got a whole lot better.”

[apostaterevolutionary]

So. Veilguard impressions so far (I’m about 13.5 hours in). Most of these are mechanical as I don’t feel like I’ve gotten enough time with the companions/story to have many opinions on it, but I feel like I at least have some opinions worth noting lmao (mostly no spoilers but like. Maybe a little so read at your own discretion)

Things I like:

I’m honestly still shocked my computer can actually run it and overall very well too

Character creator is super detailed, I love that

I keep falling off of ledges lmfao so I’m glad there’s no penalty for that

You can pet all the cats and dogs!!!!!

Also love that there’s no carry weight to contend with but I still get to pick up a ton of random items. It satisfies by urge to pick up anything that isn’t nailed down. This is great, especially after bg3 sksks (which I also enjoy as a game but pls why does gold have weight 😭)

So far I like the new companions a lot and I do enjoy these early game little almost… domestic? Or just small scale? Quests you have with them? Idk I dig it. I wasn’t sure about the ‘bond’ thing at first but on further reflection I like that you can gain approval-equivalent just by bringing them along. Makes things easier

I don’t dislike the vibes tbh like I’ve seen people say ‘oh it’s too happy and positive’ and like. Okay yeah 2 of the 3 companions you recruit early on are very bubbly but we also got blight horror all over the place so idk, maybe this is a complaint I’ll understand later but right now I don’t agree with it

Oh and I love the lantern system for when companions have dialogue - it’s a clever way of signifying when they’re all in different buildings

Things I don’t like:

I kinda get what people are saying about the handholding. Why do I need a little tip to tell me ‘[companion] has noted that you told them [thing you just said]’ 😭

Also while the new companions are fun, I do think Harding got hit pretty hard with ‘previous game lore dump’ duty cause damn. Admittedly I don’t remember her personality in inquisition super well but a lot of her dialogue just feels. Off in that way. I get it was necessary to do it somehow but. Oof. I feel bad for her cause it makes me less interested in her 😔

This is minor but I don’t like how when you load a save, it’s not actually where you saved. It’s at the last fast travel point. So it’s like. I found this hard-to-find spot last night. Saved. Planned to continue the quest the next day. Except! I have to find the spot again! And I forgot where it was! Why!!! This is absolutely a remnant of when it was a live service game but woof, why keep that in

Also bringing back the 100 save limit - actual worst feature of inquisition, why the hell would they keep it 💀 if anyone knows a mod to fix this, pls let me know, I need to have like 800 saves per run or I’ll die okay

And this is the big one tbh. I’m sorry but I really don’t like the combat 😶 like. Every boss fight is just the arishok fight except with help. Getting Lucanis has given some improvement cause now there’s at least another melee target on the field but at this point, I’m looking for a stealth option on that giant skill tree (why is it so big! I have no idea what I’m doing with it!!!) so I can go full skyrim (stealth archer) lmao. I’m hoping when I actually get to recruit a warrior (why is this the last class you get, that feels backwards), it’ll get more playable cause I’ll actually have a tank. Right now I just cannot understand why everyone says this is fun, I have had pretty much no fun in any of the fights (I’m becoming the person I was poking fun at before when I said it’s weird to play games if you don’t like half of it skskdk. Also ngl I would not be powering through if this were not a game I already had a vested interest in). Also how did anyone play a mage and make it through the first 10 hours, like I have NO idea. I’m very glad I didn’t, it’s hard enough with a rogue

Neutral observations/thoughts:

I’ve decided to play rook as like. A discount version of hawke? Cause I feel like that’s the kind of person varric would seek out, like a spark of the familiar is what drew Varric to them. And that’s adding a bit of fun headcanon flavour

(Also I have some suspicions that things are not as they seem with Varric but. We’ll see on that I suppose)

Also it’s funny cause I’ve always been a Solas neutral person (like him well enough but never understood why he was such a big deal to either the lovers or the haters). But I do find him more annoying here lmao. Maybe cause I’m rping too hard and Rook finds him annoying but I just think it’s funny

Also genuinely could not imagine this being someone’s first DA game sksks they are going to have no idea what’s going on lore-wise

[desideriumwriter]

Anyone But You | Chapter 14

Summary: You avoid the tension between you and Fred, you end up sobbing again, and make a decision that you're not sure if it was a mistake.

CW: crying, kissing, yelling

WC: 1.8k

A/N: a shortie but it's the moment you all have been waiting for! somewhat

Series Masterlist | F.W Masterlist | Previous| Next | Navi

You really didn’t mean to stay this many days at the burrow. But you surprisingly didn’t miss your bed all that much. And you were having fun.

Angelina had gone home before lunch, Lee was staying for one more day, and Harry was staying for the rest of break as per usual.

You felt bad for him.

You had shared the same loss, but you felt worse for Harry than anyone else. He was the one to see Cedric die. Then he had to go and battle a dark wizard, and bring the corpse back with him.

Remembering that he was younger than you made it worse, dealing with all that at fourteen obviously is going to take awhile to recover from.

It seemed that the both of you tried not to dwell too much on it, not wanting to think about it, and using this time at the Weasleys as a way to distract your thoughts from that event.

Harry didn’t want to remind you of what happened and you didn’t want to remind Harry of what happened. You still asked how one another were doing and responded to each other in small group conversations at the table. But really no more than that.

Anyways, you’re trying not to dwell on it. This a vacation, you should be happy.

You did your best to act normal around Fred, trying to act as if you haven’t cried in his arms twice, and slept in his bed twice, sharing the bed one of those times.

The hardest thing to ignore was that feeling in your stomach any time he was near to you.

You're not sure when it started, nor how long you’ve been ignoring it. Maybe months? That’s quite terrifying, you won’t think about it too much.

The day was simple. You ate breakfast, watched both of the twins along with Lee and Harry play Quidditch, the twins already using the beaters bats you got them. Lee offered to switch places with you, seeing if you’d like to play a round with everyone. You refused, terrified you wouldn’t be able to dodge a ball in time or fall off your broom and end up with a broken arm.

You all went inside eventually, talked, watched TV, ate lunch, talked some more, watched TV some more, watched everyone play Quidditch some more, ate dinner, talked more.

Nothing very exciting happened most of the day, except when Lee was able to hit George right in the nose with a scone from the other side of the table.

Also, you were actually able to make conversation with the twins without getting annoyed every other minute. That was new.

Other than that, nothing super important happened for most of the day.

Once you went upstairs to change, you realized that you underestimated how many days you’d stay when you packed your bag.

You were out of fresh pajama shirts, you weren’t in the mood to wear the same shirt you’ve chosen to sleep in the past two nights.

It wasn’t ideal, but you just decided to keep on the shirt you had on all day and sleep in that, changing into a new pair of pajama pants.

Leaving the room and passing the twins room, you noticed a light on and the door was cracked open, it’s usually shut.

Peaking your head in carefully, you saw Fred standing and hunched over on his desk, focused as he wrote something on a piece of paper. Probably a new idea.

Pushing the door open a bit more, it squeaked and you cringed at the sound. Fred’s head slowly looked to where you were. He smiled.

“Will you be joining me in my bed again tonight?” He teased, a sarcastic suggestive tone in this voice.

“You got lucky last night, don’t push it Weasley.” You stepped fully into the room, crossing your arms. Fred noticed and looked down at your shirt, his eyebrows creasing inwards for a moment.

“Is that the same shirt you’ve worn today?”

“Oh, yeah. I ran out of sleep shirts. This will do for now.” You shrugged, moving a hand to play with the hem of your shirt.

Fred didn’t say anything, he went over to his dresser and opened the top drawer, the wrong drawer. You got a glimpse of his boxers and immediately looked away. He slammed in shut with panic in his eyes, then clearing his throat as he opened the one underneath.

He pulled out an old shirt, it had a faded logo of some band he liked when he was prepubescent.

“Here, you can use this for the night.” He held out the shirt for you, you took it with a hesitant hand.

Looking down at it and rubbing the finger over the fabric, you bit your cheek. Feeling guilty all of sudden, about so much.

“Fred, why are you being so nice to me?” The words tumbled quickly out of your mouth, sounding painful.

“What?”

“I’ve been so horrible to you, all these years I've been so bitter and mean. Yet, you just let me in. You never held an actual grudge against me. I don’t get it.” You looked up at him, laying the folded shirt on the dresser next to you.

“Y/N, I don’t understand what you’re saying.” He stepped closer to you. He was so close. So close.

“Why can't you just be mad at me? Why can't you hate me the way I’ve hated you.” You whined, shoving him slightly, praying you would finally scare him away, make him despise you. 

Fred held your arms once you tried to push him away again, rubbing your thumbs over your wrists, and weakly saying your name.

“I could never hate you.” Fred spoke softly, you let out a breath of frustration and dropped your hands from his light grasp, wishing he would just tell the truth. He already was. 

“I don’t know why. Maybe it’s ‘cause I understood, I am annoying and I am a bit of an arsehole sometimes with my pranks.” He chuckled and you let out a breathy laugh.

“I just don’t know Y/N, I just can’t hate you.”

“Godric, why are you doing this to me Fred?” You groaned, dropping your head to his chest, leaning against him. 

“I don’t know. I can’t help it.” Fred shook his head as he gently placed his hands on the sides of your face, holding it up to his gaze. You clenched your teeth together.

Can't help what? Can’t help what, Fred? You wanted to push so bad, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Scared to know his response.

His eyes were glazed over, and he took in a shaky breath. You stared at his soft lips, the sides of lips curled down.

He looked so fucking beautiful. You hated him for it.

And you didn't know why you did it. All you knew was that in that moment, while staring into his infuriating eyes and glancing down at his lips that were curled into a frown, you wanted to kiss him. 

Air rushed out of his lungs as you did. It was strange, you expected anger, definitely regret, but all you felt was satisfaction.

Fred took a second before he pushed back into the kiss, his hands still cupping your face. Yours ran through his hair.

That yearning, the strange feeling of waiting you both held in your bodies for so long finally felt relieved as your lips opened and closed around each other.

You’d slept in his bed last night, now you were practically making out with him. What the hell were you doing?

Fred was the first to pull away, his chest heaving and swollen lips. Fred didn’t look regret-filled either but he also didn’t look ecstatic or happy. 

He looked…unsure, which was exactly how you felt. 

His eyes darted all along your face, taking in your features, analyzing them, trying to figure out what your puzzling expression was. 

Though you knew what you wanted to do, you wanted to kiss him again. You leaned in then stopped yourself, pushing yourself completely away from him.

“Oh no. No, no, no.” You mumbled repeatedly to yourself, stress taking over your face as you pressed the balls of your palms against your eyes. “What am I doing?”

Fred whispered your name, disappointed at your sudden denial. You stared at him with puffy eyes, the lamp showed the shine of a tear that fell down his face. The guilt was eating at you now.

“Fred…we can’t. I can’t….I just. Fuck.” You rubbed your hands down your face, nearly running out the room and down the steps. Fred followed suit but stopped at the doorway of his room. Watching you dart away once again, you didn’t stop moving until you were outside.

Fred stepped back and rubbed a hand against his cheek, then using two fingers to wipe his watering eyes.

You sat on the wooden bench outside, your back against the table connected to it. Hunched over with your head in your hands.

With no idea of what you were doing, what you just did, and why you ran out on Fred, you moved your hands from your head to your face.

You were a complete idiot. A complete and utter asshole for what you were doing. You’ve begun to mess with Fred’s head as much as he’s been messing with yours.

You wouldn’t blame him if he held a forever grudge against you for this, you’d understand if he began to resent you.

The door leading into the kitchen creaked open. You brought your head up slowly, even though you really didn’t want to. Knowing who it would be.

“Hey.” Fred had his hands tucked into his pockets, a painfully awkward look on his face. He couldn’t meet your eyes. “You okay?”

“I don’t think I deserve to be asked that.” You let out a breathy laugh. Fred puffed out his bottom lip and shrugged. Moving to sit down next to you on the bench.

The two of you sat in silence, you sat up fully, resting your hand in your lap and fiddling your fingers.

“I didn’t mean to run away like that. I just wasn’t sure what to do.”

“I get it, there was a lot happening in one moment.” Fred lied, he honestly didn’t get it. He wondered why you couldn’t just come to your senses with your feelings.

“It was rude of me though. I’m just not sure about anything really.” You sighed.

Fred rested his hand over yours in a sympathetic way.

“How about we just stay here, as friends? It’d be really nice to call you my friend after all these years.” He chuckled. “I’m just glad we’re not at each other's throats anymore.”

“Yeah. Yeah we can be friends.” You nodded slightly, voice hoarse when the words came out.

“Okay.” A weak grin took over his face.

“Okay.”

It’s hard to stay as friends when you’ve already kissed him.

tell me what you thought here! <3 or ask tba to the taglist for this series!

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@hornyforyourb1tch

[homelander-rp-blog]

Her kiss left a burning feeling behind that he had to rush to his penthouse to check in the mirror to see any burning trace. He reaches up, gloved finger tips brushing over the lipstick smear over his cheek, it’s a dark color in contrast of his golden tan skin and even ‘touching’ it sends a shiver on his back. His exhales comes out stuttered, his heart does a silly flip when thinking about the moment Victoria leaned close, her scent, her warmth. Her perfume. The pounding of every beat of his heart pumping blood in her veins and it all was euphoric, intimate and having no bad intention behind it. She really did that, she kissed him!

Takes him few times to know what he’s doing, standing there in his uniform and touching the lipstick mark over his skin. He meets his eyes in the mirror, there was something ‘sweet’ about Victoria that attracted him and he hopes deep down that her ‘act’ wasn’t because of his threat. He doesn’t notice the soft smile that tugs his lips up when thinking about possibilities of what it could be to actually having a life with her.. living with her, maybe he could for once have a normal life just like how he wished back then?

Tomorrow morning he leaves the tower incognito, shopping a few new clothing for his dinner date and he doesn’t forget to buy something for Victoria too.. though he isn’t sure he can find anything suitable for her.. what he can get her that she doesn’t have already? “hey um.. I want a gift for my girlfriend” he says to the young girl standing behind the counter, ducks his head to hide his blushing face behind the rim of his cap hat “erm.. it’s our first date and I don’t want to disappoint her..” he says a little with rush, his hands tugging at the hem of his hoodie behind the counter where the girl can’t see.

Finally, he leaves the shop with a lovely red scarf wrapped in a shiny blue paper, he picked deep red color like the shade of her lipstick that Homelander didn’t wiped away from his face last night, went to bed by that and dreamt of a normal life with Victoria, cheesy, yeah, and woke up to see it left a faint red slash over his white pillow case. The shopkeeper advised him to buy her flowers too. he’s going to buy roses, definitely.

He feels giddy and jumpy from both the sudden anxious and the excitement that night when he flies to her home with the gifts carried in his arms. He didn’t slick his hair back this time, letting front strands falling over his forehead, ladies love this version of him. And a simple button down, black vest with dark trousers, going for classic looks.

Taking in a deep breath before he raps knuckles on her balcony door. From here, he can easily use his special vision to spot her in her apartm- no, none of that tonight.. he really wants to see what’s special about mud people’s date that they fancy them this much.

     𝐬𝐡𝐞  𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰  𝐬𝐡𝐞  𝐰𝐚𝐬  𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐡𝐢𝐦  𝐚  𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞,     she  wasn't  trying  to  get  him  angry  again,  but  more  like  testing  boundaries  to  see  what  pushed  him  and  what  could  get  him  to  work  with  her,  rather  than  against  her.     she  needed  this  to  be  bearable,  if  she  was  going  to  be  forced  into  something  that  she  didn't  want  to  be  in,  she  needed  it  to  be  something  she  could  actually  handle,     "     sea  food?     i'm  sure  i  can  find  something  that  i  can  cook  for  us.     but  i  think  you'll  like  dessert  better,  i'm  a  pretty  good  baker,     "     baking  had  been  something  that  she  had  found  helped  keep  her  calm  and  focused,  to  not  let  her  lose  control  and  she  liked  that  she  was  able  to  make  some     𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝     out  of  it.     nodding  her  head  at  his  request  for  no  alcohol,  already  making  a  mental  note  of  what  she  would  need  to  get  for  tomorrow  night,     "     don't  worry,  i've  got  it  handled.     you  just  need  to  trust  me,     "

     𝐚  𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥  𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞  𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝  𝐚𝐭  𝐡𝐞𝐫  𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬  𝐚𝐭  𝐡𝐨𝐰  𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲  𝐡𝐞  𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝,     keeping  her  gaze  down  at  her  hands  in  her  lap,  her  dark  hair  covering  her  face  and  hiding  her  smile  because  she  didn't  want  him  to  think  she  was  mocking  him.     it  just  meant  that  this  new  direction  she  was  going  in  on  trying  to  handle  him  was  truly  working.     yet  his  sexism  really  was  so  deep  rooted  that  she  couldn't  help  but  roll  her  eyes  and  look  over  at  him,     "     you  know  some  of  the  best  chefs  in  the  world  are  men.     the  kitchen  is  a  place  for  everyone,  which  i  will  show  you  tomorrow,     "     she  couldn't  bite  at  it,  she  couldn't  fight  with  him  about  deep  rooted  sexist  thoughts  that  had  probably  been  drilled  into  him.     victoria  smiled,  shrugging  her  shoulders  as  the  car  came  to  a  stop,     "     my  life  is  pretty  busy,  so  that's  why  all  the  schedules.     zoe  won't  be  there  because  she's  already  got  plans  herself,  so  it  will  just  be  the  two  of  us.     but  don't  worry,  if  this  is  to  work  out,  i  will  always  find  time  for  you,     "     turning  to  face  him,  she  smiled  at  him  as  she  tilts  her  head,  dark  hair  falling  over  her  shoulder,     "     tomorrow,  i  will  have  dinner  ready  for  seven,  so  come  over  at  about  six?     i'm  looking  forward  to  it,     "     leaning  over  to  press  a  gentle  kiss  to  his  cheek,  lingering  only  for  a  moment  before  pulling  back  to  open  the  door  to  the  car,     "     get  home  safe,  homelander,  i  will  see  you  tomorrow,     "     one  last  flash  of  a  smile  before  stepping  out  of  the  car,  shutting  the  door  behind  her,  smiling  to  herself  as  she  walked  up  to  her  door.     it  was  exactly  what  stan  had  always  told  her     -     play  all  angles.

[stargirldotcom]

[camgoloud]

you ever just. become overwhelmed by a sudden out-of-nowhere wave of tenderness and affection and longing for reconnection directed towards someone to whom you no longer speak for Very Good Reasons

[katszumi]

“have you seen the abs on that man?” hagakure sat across of you. “sexy on a stick, i swear!” she giggles. she was going on and on about the guy that starred in the superman movie you girls put on last night. henry cavill was his name.

mina agrees with her statement with a nod. “he’s the hottest white man i’ve ever seen before.”

“sure, he was hot, but are we forgetting the misogynist comments he’s made? sexy is one thing, but being controversial is a whole ‘nother thing.” uraraka inserted her input.

“oh, please. i’d cook and clean for him anyday he asks.” mina retorted. both uraraka and yaoyorozu shake their head in shame.

“speaking of controversial.” uraraka murmurs under her breath, you peer over your shoulder, wondering the intent of her statement.

you notice bakugou making his way over to your desk, his eyes planted on you and you only. you shift uncomfortably. why the hell would he be coming to you? did you do something?

once he makes his way to your desk, you look up at him with a half smile.

“hey, bakugou. what’s up?”

his eyes analyze the other girls before looking back down on you.

“my pencil?”

you flutter your lashes at him. “pencil..?” you repeated in a trance of confusion.

he groans. “the fuckin’ pencil i gave you last week. i need it back.”

now it all clicks. you nod, laughing nervously because of your stupidity. you reach in your backpack and grab the black mechanical pencil that you forgot to lend back to bakugou.

your arm extends to the male in front of you, waiting for him to snatch it back.

“sorry.”

he gently grasped onto the pencil, his hand brushing against your fingers for a small moment.

“it’s whatever. just rather not be the one to find you after i lent you something.” he shoved the pencil in his pants pockets, leaving his hands in there. “that’s one of the last pencils i have.”

you shoot your eyebrows up in defense, quickly lowering them after. your eyes falling down to your desk for comfort.

“well, hope you take care of that one.” it was a half-joke. a lame one, might you add. you were just unsure on what to say. especially since it seemed like bakugou was lingering around your desk. as if he didn’t want to return to his seat just yet.

“so, what’d you score on your test?”

“ah…it wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t horrible.”

“well?” was he really desperate to know that bad? you knew bakugou was smart, so he probably only wanted to know so it could boost his ego.

you rubbed your arm out of shame. “a seventy-nine.” you stared at his face to recognize any humility or laughter, but there was none.

he shrugged. “should’ve asked for my help if you needed it.”

right. you almost forgot that bakugou offered to help you study and go over notes with him for the next test. it was such an out-of-bakugou thing to do that you nearly didn’t take him serious.

you nodded slowly, processing his information.

“i was planning on making it up, so maybe for that.”

“fine.” his short one-worded response was dull. but what else did you really expect? “next time, don’t steal my pencil.” was his last comment before leaving your presence.

you sat in your thoughts, reeling the conversation back in your mind. what the hell just happened? it was the most simple yet confusing conversation you’ve ever had. was bakugou joking with you or was he seriously irritated with the pencil situation?

regardless, you made a mental note that bakugou was very protective over his mechanical pencils.

once bakugou returned to his seat, he unzipped his backpack, secretly opening his pencil box. within the box were a collection of pencils. there were so many pencils that he could give one to all of class 1a and 1b and still have few left.

aside sat denki who was clearly peeking inside of bakugou’s bag.

“damn, bakubro. you saving up pencils for a potential pencil outage or something?” it’s denki. of course, he never used his inside voice.

“i will literally blow you out this fuckin’ window and across the lot.” bakugou turns his head immediately, a faint pink blush spreading across the apples of his cheek.

bakugou just didn’t want you to know that the pencil was obviously an excuse to talk to you.

pt 2 of the study sesh

[postmortemnivis]

no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to her.

simon really meant it, every bit of it, he’d come back to you somehow. he would find his way back to you. wether it was walking through the front door quietly not to wake you up in the middle of the night or cold in a coffin. he’d rather have you hold his dead body than not to have you touch his skin ever again.

that’s what simon was thinking about as his ear ringed so loud he couldn’t focus on his surroundings. he looked up at the sky, so blue it almost didn’t feel right. why so blue when so much blood was being shed?

he occasionally would feel the ground he was laying on tremble, maybe a hand grenade, maybe a body falling next to his. the smell of gunpowder filled his covered nostrils and he could feel his lungs collapsing on themselves from the thickness of the air he was breathing. his eyes weren’t doing good either, filled with dust and sand from the dry earth.

it took him a few more seconds to focus his eyes on something, something that possibly wasn’t moving, his head spinning each time he tried to sit up. something was weighting on his legs, holding him down. he struggled to raise his torso and groaned at the sight of a large body blocking him. he let himself fall back down.

he was ready to go, a sharp pain to his side telling him he wouldn’t last long alone. he’d been through worse, way worse, the scar provided by the meat hook was proof of that, but something was telling him this was as bad. he was ready to go.

the only thing he could think about in his last moments was you. he thought he could see glimpses of you, maybe your hair in the corner of his eyes or he’d hear your laugh as another fire shooting started. his eyes searched for you frantically. he wanted to tell you to leave immediately, scream it at the top of his lungs, but his voice was caught in his throat and you weren’t really there. his mind just playing cruel tricks on him.

your name was repeated like a mantra in his head, repeating it so many times it almost lost a meaning. almost. a prayer, a chant. he sure needed to pray, for you.

he had been shelving the thought that tormented him for months. he wanted to go and confess his sins, he almost felt the need, his palms itching with haste anytime he thought about it. years had passed since the last time he had set foot in a church, so many that he had almost forgotten the reason for the visit. the ghosts of the past never abandon you, especially if they are people you love, especially if they are family, the innocent. its always the innocent who pay the highest price.

‘i wonder what she’s doing now, who’s gonna knock on her door and tell her im gone.’ he thought. ‘hopefully price. he’s the one with tact and the most considerate. he’ll help her when i’m gone, keep an eye on her.’

the sweet smell of your hair replaced for a moment the one of blood and gunpowder, your laughter still echoing in his ears. he pictured your sweet face and big innocent eyes looking up at him.

“promise me something?”

“mhm?” he hummed, surprised you were still up. his hand hadn’t stopped caressing your hair since you laid down on his chest, your hand resting on his collarbone as your ear listened to his calm heartbeat. “yeah, anything.”

“promise me you’ll always come back.” you whispered in the dark room. “promise me, simon.”

he nodded, taken aback by your request. you weren’t the fondest of his job, he knew it, he hated to concern you like he did.

“yes.”

“promise.” you urged. “please.”

he bent his head down and kissed the top of yours, his arm sliding down your back and drawing you closer by your waist. “i will, love. i’ll always come back to you.”

you sighed, the knot of thoughts in your worried head began to untie. “mh.”

“better now?” he softly asked. his voice was hoarse from his constant shouting orders at the obstreperous recruits. you gave a short nod. “i mean it.”

he groaned as he managed to get the body off of himself, struggling to get on his knees.

fucks sake, he couldn’t let you live with him gone like this. it was selfish of him to leave you in such an abrupt way, really. he tried to push away the image of you opening the door to find price with a carton box filled with simons stuff from the barracks with the balaclava and skull mask on top and your knees hitting the floor before he could even say anything.

his legs didn’t feel like they could hold his weight up, he immediately fell to his knees as he heard another rapid fire too near him for his liking. his gun was long gone, he had to manage to survive alone, again.

“crawlin’ it is.” he breathed as he started to drag his tired body with the strength of his arms alone. you had always praised his strength: he could lift you with one arm alone, you loved to be held and hold on to his arm anywhere and at anytime. that was the main reason he always pushed for more while training, and the motivation your sweet compliments always gave him now were gonna save his life. he made a mental note to kiss and hold you a little longer and tighter if he ever made it home alive.

he could see the building his team was supposed to meet up in case things got bad. it looked so far away that it was alarmingly close. maybe it was just his messed up vision, a mirage, but he could swear he saw you from a window looking at him, urgently motioning him to come.

he brought the thick balaclava above his nose so he could breathe better and as enemy gunfire continued to flow, he kept his head low as he moved dead bodies from his way.

he could hear your voice calling for him and he wanted to call you for you back, but the noises of the battlefield were hurrying him to get to the safe zone first.

he stumbled by the door as he brought himself up, one hand stabilizing him as he held on to the doorframe as the other went to press on his wound.

“lt!” johnnys voice called before he rushed to help him. “ye cheeky bastard, i told them not to leave yet, to wait for ye.”

“gaz saw you get shot.” price swung simon’s arm over his shoulder in order to help him to the nearest table, where he laid down.

“he saw that right.” simon bit the inside of his cheek as price inspected his wound, pressing on it. “is he a‘ight?”

“he’s fine, hit his head but had his helmet on, he’s getting checked out by the medics.” price informed him as simon winced at the sharp pain. “there’s at least two bullets in here, didn’t pass through, stuck.”

“just take ‘em the fuck out.” simon groaned. “how’s it lookin’?”

“you’ll live.” price patted his shoulder in comfort before he went to call a medic.

“we really thought we’d lost ye there, lt.” johnny’s face was glowing with sweat and blood, the black war paint smudged messily all around his face and his mohawk dusted.

“helicopter’s leaving in thirty, boys!” price’s baritone voice called from the other room.

simon scoffed, sighing and closing his eyes, finally letting himself relax as your figure started to fade from the corner of the room where it’d been standing, silently looking at him. “won’t lose me, can’t wait to go home, johnny.”

[6okuto]

timeskip osamu x gn!reader fluff :-)

“is it bad if i say i wish you kept playing volleyball?”

osamu hears your question before he feels your arms wrap around his waist, his arms crossed over his chest moving to hold yours.

you lean to rest your cheek against his bicep and he looks down at you, pinches your arm as a playful threat. “depends on the reason.”

“is ‘’cause you look good in this jersey’ good enough?”

the black and gold jersey in question, wrapped snug around his arms and chest, had his last name splayed across his back, but not for him, not with his number sitting underneath. there was a match tonight—the first one back from off-season—and osamu would damn himself if he wasn’t repping his twin, even if he couldn’t be there in the stands.

“seriously?” the corner of his lip twitches, and he teases, “y’don’t wanna wear ’tsumu’s? it’s the same last name anyway.”

the bolded MIYA greets you when you pull away to look at it, and osamu wonders if it’d be selfish to say he wanted you to say no, if he confessed his heart jumped at the immediate shake of your head—“it’s not the same, though.”

you gently tug at the fabric and name, twisting it between your fingers. “i love ’tsumu, but in a very different way than i love you.”

your boyfriend does his best to tuck a stupidly lovesick smile away, along with the satisfaction and pride swelling in his chest, all behind a deep sigh and hum in thought.

he turns to wrap an arm around your shoulder where he picks stray lint off your shirt. “we have my old high school jerseys somewhere.” and he almost laughs at the speed you gasp and let your jaw fall.

“wait, really?”

“yeah, kept most of our school stuff after we graduated. wanna see if one fits?”

“yes?” you shove his chest, not trying to, but unable to move him all the same. “i can’t believe you’ve been hiding your old high school stuff from me.”

“well it’s not like i did it on purpose! had no reason to go lookin’ for it,” he defends himself. and you know he’s right—you met long after the twins’ graduation when it had all been packed up ages ago, and osamu no longer felt the need to take his jersey out just to see it, mind filled with business instead of volleyball, a new black uniform fitted to his form.

“well now we do, miya,” you tease, the last name an old acquaintance sitting oddly on your tongue, “so you better get looking before i change my mind and ask atsumu’s for his instead.”

and osamu, for once, raises his hands in surrender instead of pushing his luck; he doubts you’d do it even if he didn’t find his old jersey, but just the thought is enough. “yeah, okay, alright, anythin’ for you.”

🏷️ | @pelicanpizza @godoffuckedupcats @causenessus @priv-rose @ur-local-simp @respitable @hasti-666 @deepenthevoid

[wonderjanga]

Marvel and the YJ

So, Marvel in the YJ. He’s one of their den mothers and all that. So like, in this AU, and in fact in all of my posts so far, Billy’s kept it under wraps that he’s a kid. So, as a result, the YJ think he’s just this really cool big brother (dad (they just don’t know it)) type of dude. Like he’s so nice. And he’s so nice to them especially. Like, he treats all of them the same way he treats adults. He doesn’t doubt their abilities, and when they fail, he’s still there to encourage them to get back up and he doesn’t even make them feel bad about it.

Like, the one time he was asked to spar with the YJ cause they wanted to for funsies I guess, he positively whooped their asses and somehow, someway found a way to still compliment their abilities, even if they didn’t last that long because the battle was a little one-sided. To be fair though, they had asked him not to go easy, which he didn’t. In the end, he got promptly scolded by Canary heavily when she found out he quite literally used Kid Flash as a rag doll and threw him at Aqualad. She said that the entire tape of him having a “friendly spar” with those kids, was essentially just him bullying them. To which Billy tried to defend himself by saying those kids were plenty capable. The defense didn’t work.

Then, there was this time Kon mentioned he couldn’t fly and Marvel offered him a lift. This somehow ended up with Marvel sort of T posing mid air as Kon and Robin hung on one arm, Artemis and Aqualad hung on the other arm, then Kid Flash held onto one leg while M’gann held onto the other.

Flash: “Wow.” *looking up at the YJ and Marvel* “That’s… actually kinda majestic, not gonna lie.”

Superman: *also looking up at Marvel and the YJ* “Is it though? What if one of them falls?”

Flash: “Eh. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Kid Flash proceeds to almost slip off and fall, which almost gives both the speedster and Kryptonian a heart attack. Thankfully, he catches himself by moving his feet really fast to boost himself back up. Worst part in their opinion is that Marvel didn’t even seem to notice.

Then, there was the time M’gann with Robin about something. Batman was also working nearby on a computer.

M’gann: “Hmm… We need advice.”

Robin!Tim: “We need an adult.”

Batman: *keeping an ear out cause he’s always happy to help one of his kids*

M’gann and Robin!Tim: *thinking before they speak up at the same time* “Marvel.” *they then both walk out of the room to find the Captain*

Batman: *a little upset that Tim did didn’t come to him for help but also a lot more concerned as to why they thought Marvel was a suitable choice to ask for advice, especially considering the fact that just earlier that day, he had caught the man scribbling on one of the meeting tables like a 5th grader scribbling on their desk*

Contrary to what Bruce thought might happen (I.e. something going wrong) apparently Marvel’s advice wasn’t too bad, seeing nothing had gone wrong yet. (He later found out that the two had asked for the best advice on how to incapacitate your enemy quickly. He found this out when he saw Tim throat punch a man. Said man went down almost immediately. When prodded for information for as to why he did that, he proudly proclaimed “Cap taught me”)

Also a little tidbit from the Marvel Cursing post about the YJ thinking that Marvel called one of them a dumb cunt. Courtesy to @helps-the-writing-brain-go

Billy’s recently noticed that the kids are acting funny. Though, he supposes it’s not a bad funny. If anything, whatever’s got them acting weird has got them doing better on missions, but still. It’s weird. What’s weirder is that whenever he compliments them, they shine twice as brighter than they normally do. What’s even weirder than that is that whenever they’ve messed up recently they look twice as nervous. Speaking of which, this was one of the moments they’ve messed up.

Marvel: “So… Uh- that didn’t go so well.”

YJ: *obvious signs of anxiousness on some and subtle on others*

Marvel: “But that’s okay! But that’s okay.” *trying his best to make the anxiety in them disappear* “We just have to try to be better next time. Like, and I hate to say this, maybe try calling in an adult next time? Like me? I could’ve zoomed over and helped you guys.”

YJ: *look at each other*

Artemis: “Wally’s the one who said that we shouldn’t call you in a try to do this on our own.”

Kid Flash: *dramatic gasp* “You know why I said that! It would’ve helped us all if Kaldur had tried to put the fires near the gas tanks out with his water powers!”

Aqualad: “I was busy being attacked by nearly five different people.”

YJ: *dissolve into arguing*

Marvel: “Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wally what did you mean by it would’ve helped you all? Me not being there would’ve been good?” *confused*

YJ: *immediate silence*

Kon: “Wally found out that you think one of us is dumb cunt.”

Kid Flash: “Dude! You guys need to stop ratting me out!”

Marvel: “What.” *stares in befuddlement*

M’gann: “And then he told us. So we’ve been trying to think of ways to not be uh… dumb cunts.”

Marvel: *blinks rapidly* “Again, what? Wally, where did you get this information from?”

Kid Flash: “When you were making cookies! I heard you say blah blah blah, what a dumb cunt.”

Marvel: *still staring in confusion*

Kid Flash: “Then, when I asked what you were talking about, Mary said you were talking about our performance on missions.”

Marvel: “…Okay. I’m going to be completely honest with you. I don’t remember a thing of what you’re talking about.”

Marvel then goes on to make a speech about how they’re wonderful heroes who shouldn’t let one person’s words guide them, especially in risky situations like a mission. He then told them that he was now going to stress bake and make some Minnesota cool whip, jello, fruit, not really salad, salad. (Courtesy to @jedipirateking) On the bright side though, the speech did leave the teens feeling better.

[cregansdingdong]

imagine cregan and y/n breaking the bed one night just because of his sheer strength and muscle whilst pounding her, ik the conversation with the winterfell wood crafter would be awks as hell afterwards whilst asking for it to be repaired 😇😇

IM HAVING A PROPHETIC VISION, ANON.

At this point, Cregan and his boo thang are just going to have to become familiar with the man. There is no other option, because your choices are either to have this embarrassing conversation a multitude of times with multiple woodcrafters or just one. Because if y'all think this is a one-time thing, you are terribly mistaken.

Cregan is a very passionate person in bed, regardless if he's on top or not. He wants to make sure the two of you are satiated—that does mean the bed will snap like a twig under a boot i dont make the rules i just work here. Personally, I find the actual deliverance of the bedframe to be the most mortifying. Firstly, that big ass broken bed has to be dismantled and removed, if it's not fixable, which takes manpower, and then the new one brought into the Great Keep and put together. Otherwise, the woodcrafter is going to have to make a house call and show up with his tools and planks, walking toward your marital chambers which is embarrassing too :)

ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. (thoughts ver.)

NSFW stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

That familiar groan under his weight should've been the first warning sign, but Cregan was too distracted to notice. He was lapping at her pretty cunt, tongue delving as deep as he could go and as thorough as he could be without the motions being too unsteady. Alright maybe he did notice initially, but the thought was very quickly shoved to the back of his mind—especially when his pretty wife was trying to rock herself onto his nose, letting out the most quiet of whimpers muffled by their sheets. His ears were focused on her and her only.

With her pearl rubbing against his bridge and his cock feeling so strained in his trousers, no one could really blame him for forgetting about the delicate state of the bed in an instant. Last time they’d gotten particularly frantic in their lovemaking, there had been a low snap somewhere beneath the mattress, a taunt that he was probably too hefty to be moving so much. But winter was coming, a man’s gotta eat…in more ways than one.

By the time he’d recalled they should begin to take it easy on the bed, he was already balls deep behind her, hands gripping the flesh of her ass like a lifeline. He was suffocating in the best way, cock nestled inside, fogging his brain with nothing but instinct. And then she started begging. By then, well, he decided they needed a new bed anyway—six moons wasn’t too bad. Lasted longer than the previous replacement. Three harsh, unrelenting spanks bloom red on her backside as she squeezes around him, sending his blood pumping to the beat of an imaginary war drum. It would be a miracle from the Gods if she wasn’t pregnant by mid-summer. Cregan just couldn’t help himself.

Rutting against her like a man starved, the right side of the bed almost completely collapses, caving in and nearly throwing him off balance. His wife gasped, pleasure momentarily halted as she looked back at him. “Again? Seriously? I told you to write to him last time, did you?” The answer was no, no he did not. “It might have…slipped…my mind.” He murmured, trying to ignore the throbbing in his full balls. They had a silent conversation of glares and a sheepish grin. Then she concedes. “...We might as well finish then. I doubt it can get any worse.”

It could, actually. And it did. He came hard some twenty minutes later, pounding their hips together with a steady desperation. The dip of the broken side was a little annoying, but manageable. Without the support, the right beams of the canopy end up falling right down. No one was harmed, of course. It was only drapes. Cregan found it almost comical but his wife did not. It was going to be a long letter.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

[luveline]

would you do a james fainting fic 🙏🙏

—James doesn’t like you, but he’ll come to your rescue. fem, 1.5k The office is hot. 

James dabs at his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Remus rubbing his eye. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

You look up from the paper on your desk. When you realise he isn’t asking you, you look away, your lips pressing into a tight line. James tries not to show he’s noticed. 

“Fine,” Remus mutters. “Fucked off ‘cos of the portal changing again. I hate these long passwords.” 

“Are you hot or is it just me?” 

You clear your throat. Usually, unless it’s Remus who’s spoken first or James has said something you find ridiculous, you won’t interrupt. “I’m really warm,” you say, “do you think I can open the window?” 

“Like you can reach it, shorts. I’ll do it.” James jumps up from his seat. Whether you’re short or not has nothing to do with it. James is taller, and he holds it against you diligently. 

He rounds your desks. The sun is worse on his skin than the heat alone. He can’t imagine how awful you must feel to have it on the side of your neck all day; in the half minute he stands there opening the window, the heat makes him queasy. 

He tugs the blinds down enough to shield you. It’ll help the entire office, he thinks. Not just you. If you thought he was doing something nice you’d only interrogate his motives until you both turned irate, and that’s the last thing anyone needs today. 

James isn’t sure how you and he ended up not liking one another. He’s never met anybody he didn’t like that wasn’t a massive wanker, and you are but you’re not, not really. When you first started he’d actually thought you were cute, and funny, if a little quiet. It didn’t matter because James is used to quiet people. But one thing turned to another, he’d used your mug without washing it, you’d left him off of the department emails for the quarter, then the snipping started. Constant nitpicking and bickering. You make it too easy, and so what if he likes how you look when you’re mad? It doesn’t hurt anybody to put your mug in the stockroom and your lunch on a different shelf. If anything, he’s keeping you vigilant. 

You don’t look vigilant. You don’t say anything as James sits back down, even though he hits his knee for the hundredth time on his desk. You usually love it. Sometimes when you’re tired he does it on purpose to give you a reason to keep going till 4:30. 

“Are you okay?” James asks finally, eyeing your face. “You look funnier than usual.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure?” He should stop being mean. You look like you’re gonna pass out. 

Remus peeks over his computer screen. “You don’t look well,” he says. 

“I’m fine.” You roll your seat back. 

James pushes back at the same time. “Wait a second–”

You’re standing before James can stop you, but he stands up anyways, and he takes your elbow into his hand though he shouldn’t. You give him the most peculiar look, almost like you’re enjoying his touch, just for those two seconds, before your chin dips down and your eyes squeeze closed, and all of you goes slack. 

James grabs you at the precipice of a bad fall. 

You’re still as a doll in his hands. He leans back with a quick sigh, his arm curling over the small of your back and upward. Your legs aren’t holding your weight, and you begin to slip. 

James could keep you up, he doesn’t go to the gym for nothing, but Remus rushes to his aid and pushes your chair back, helping him set you down on the floor. “What do we do?” Remus asks urgently. 

James puts his hand behind your head. You’re slack. When he touches your face, your skin is as hot as the heart of a furnace. 

“Can you get some water?” he asks Remus. 

James is peculiarly calm. He knows you’re just hot, it’s not uncommon for people to faint in high temperatures, and he’s honestly confident in his ability to look after you. It’s very sad to see you unwell, of course, and his heart is beating fast as he takes in your slack mouth. 

“Hey, Y/N,” he says, cupping your cheek gently. He gives your face a little shake, reluctant to be rough with you while you’re vulnerable, even if some force would help. “Hey, can you hear me? You’re okay, can you open your eyes?” 

Nothing. He leans down a touch to listen for your breath, and it’s fine, if a tad fast. 

Remus comes back with a cup of water and Sirius, which is predictable but not super helpful. “Jesus,” Sirius says. “I’ll call an ambulance.” 

“She’ll die of embarrassment,” Remus says. 

“She’s coming around,” James says, patting your cheek, thrilled when your eyelashes twitch. “I think we should go into the break room, is it empty? We can sit her on the sofa.” 

“You don’t think we should do something a bit more drastic?” Sirius asks. 

James feels rather defensive of you. Remus is right, you would die of embarrassment if they called an ambulance, and he’s sure you’re fine. You have to be fine. “She just fainted, it’s so hot in here. Go open a window in the break room and we’ll wait for her to come around.” 

Sirius glares playfully at being told what to do, but he goes, and Remus kneels down beside James with a cup of water. Someone from the front of the office asks if you’re alright, but James misses what they’re saying as you let out a whine. 

All of a sudden, his attention is fully yours. 

“Hey,” he murmurs. 

Your eyes open slowly, lashes heavy like they’re thick with honey. You take in a deep, deep breath through your nose, and you blink, and you turn into his hand where it’s holding your cheek with all the familiarity of a lover. “James,” you mumble. 

His stomach aches. He ignores it. “You okay? Can you look at me properly? I need to make sure you’re fine.” 

“I’m fine,” you say, face pressed to his hand. 

“Just look at me. Just for a second.” 

You pull yourself with clear annoyance from his hand and open your eyes properly. He can pinpoint the moment you realise who he is, how you're touching, and he can’t explain the pang he gets when you rush up and away from his touch. “Oh, fuck,” you mumble, dropping your head, your fingers to your forehead and your thumb covering your eyes. 

“Hey, don’t move around so much.” He continues to be soft. You might have realised who it is that’s trying to look after you, and you might not want him to, but he’ll be damned if he lets your bickering stop him from making sure you’re as okay as he’d claimed to everyone else. “Are you okay?” 

“Did I…” 

“You fainted. Don’t worry, I caught you. Take it easy, okay? Have this.” 

He presses the cup of water into your hand.

Somewhere behind him, Remus has moved away, and is seemingly fending off the masses of people coming to offer assistance. 

You see them looking at you behind him and cover your face. 

James shuffles forward quickly. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not gonna let anyone see you. I’m saving this embarrassment all for myself. Please drink your water.” 

“Did everybody see me fall?” 

“They saw us engaged in a loving cwtch. It was very romantic.” 

You sip your water. In truth, you don’t look much better for passing out, and James can’t get the feeling of your face out of his hand. He wants to touch you again, his fingers hesitating an inch from your knee. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he says. “You don’t control the weather. Do you?” 

“Of course I don’t.” 

“Then why are you sorry? It was alright. You have nothing to be sorry for, okay? We just want to make sure you’re okay. Sirius wanted to call an ambulance,” —you visibly baulk— “and I told him no, don’t worry. Then all the attention would be on you, and not me for my valiant rescue.” 

“Was I heavy?” you ask, your mumbling nearly friendly. 

“I can bench press two twenty.” 

“That… doesn’t mean anything to me.” 

“You’re nothing I couldn’t handle, shortcake. Do you think you can stand up? I’ll take you into the break room. You can lay down on the sofa.” 

You make a soft sound James won’t soon forget and put your hand out for his help. He doesn’t have to force you. You don’t have to ask. He helps you stand and keeps an arm behind your back, shielding you from the worried and curious gazes of your coworkers. 

You press your cheek to his chest. 

Remus looks at you both like you’ve been body-snatched, but it’s too late to wuss out now. 

[clockwayswrites]

Wibirbs Wobble Part 15

masterpost

Bruce stood, along with most of the theater as Cass and her dance partner came onto the stage to join the rest of the Cass. Bruce was so proud of her. Despite everything Cass had been through, she had grown to be such a kind, confident young lady. For her not only get up on a stage and dance but to also be the one of the leads was truly a testament to how hard she had worked to find a life she wanted.

Next to him, Danny stood, wavered, and ended up right back in his seat.

“Danny?”

“I’m fine, watch your daughter,” Danny said. He waved one hand dismissively at Bruce while he rested his forehead in the other.

He’d gone alarming pale.

Reluctantly, Bruce turned back to applaud one last time. As soon as the curtains closed, Bruce took a knee in front of Danny’s chair.

“I’m fine,” Danny tried again.

“You look like a ghost,” Bruce argued and took Danny’s wrist.

Danny covered a snort of laughter with his other hand.

Danny’s pulse fluttered weakly under Bruce’s fingers. “We should get you to an urgent care—”

“It’s fine,” Danny said. Even his smile looked a little weak. “I just need a moment.”

Bruce doubted that a moment would help much. “I’m worried about your pulse.”

“You caught that?” Danny asked, question curious and not at all concerned.

“I was studying to be a doctor at once point,” Bruce pointed out dryly.

“You were? Hum, maybe I’ve heard that before? I don’t really know,” Danny said before he shook his head a little. (The movement did Danny’s coloring no favors.) “But okay look, I know about my pulse issues. I’m having a bit of a bad… few weeks right now, but I’ll be fine. I’ve already seen my doctor about it. I get how it seems concerning, and yeah I need to keep taking it easy a bit, but this is pretty normal for me. I have some complications from an accident when I was a kid.”

Bruce frowned, searching the words for a lie.

There wasn’t one, even if there also wasn’t much information.

“At least let us offer you a ride home then,” Bruce insisted. He continued quickly when it seemed Danny would protest. “It really won’t be an issue and it would make me feel better to know you got home safe.”

Danny’s lips pressed together thinly.

Bruce pulled out the big guns. “And Cass would hate it if you were hurt from coming to see her perform.”

“Does she have everyone wrapped around her finger?” Danny asked, lips quirking into a little smile.

“Basically since she arrived,” Bruce said wryly. He stood and offered Danny both his arms, palms up. “Please stand carefully. If you go over the edge of the box I’ll have to drive to save you or something equally dramatic.”

“We would make the papers for sure,” Danny said. His grip was concernedly shaky as he wrapped his hands around Bruce’s forearms, but he stood in a smooth motion, even if he ended up basically leaning against Bruce’s chest. Danny stepped back after a second, cheeks dusted with red. “Okay, should I just… wait for you out front?”

“It’s adorable how you think I’m letting you out of my sight,” Bruce said. He rested his hand lightly on the small of Danny’s back and started to guide the other out of the box. “Again, you falling over the edge of the box, down the stairs, dramatically onto some absurdly pointy bit of Gotham architecture— these are all things I am not going to take a risk of happening to you.”

“You are such a father.”

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult,” Bruce said honestly as they took the back stairs down to avoid the crowd.

“Oh, well, more of just a statement? But definitely not an insult,” Danny insisted.

They were tucked slightly close together until the stairs opened up into a sitting room that was kept aside traditionally for those in the boxes. Tonight the Wayne name had kept it aside for for Bruce, his family, and their close friends. Well, and Danny, Bruce mused as he made the other sit down on the sofa that purely for looks and not comfort.

Bruce poured a glass of the recently refreshed water and brought it over to Danny.

“I really will be alright,” Danny said, but took the glass and a long sip. His color was a little better after some water. “I’ve been dealing with some level of this for… huh, almost twenty five years now. I sorta hadn’t realized that it had been so long… but anyways, that means I’m used to it.”

Bruce rested on the arm of the sofa. “Just because you’re used to it, that doesn’t mean that you have to bear it alone.”

Danny gave a little shrug. “But I do, Bruce, or a lot of it at least. I live alone after all.”

The door burst open as the room was swarmed with a multitude of Waynes and might-as-well-be-Waynes. It left Bruce without any time to respond to that and grateful, as he watched his family pile into the room, that he had been lucky enough despite everything to not end up alone.

Tim was the one who paused, as if just noticing Danny, before shaking his head. “Right, the engineer Cass invited! Hi, I’m Tim. I intern at WE so you might see me around there too. Well, not that you won’t see the others, but I mean that you might see me more often.”

“Nice to meet you Tim, though I don’t know how often you’ll be down by engineering,” Danny said.

Danny had a bit of a tight grip on the glass in his hands, but Bruce supposed it was a great deal of people very suddenly. There was something though…

“Oh, Tim is also a huge nerd,” Steph said as she threw her arm over Tim’s shoulder. “He likes to tinker so you might be surprised. Trust me, I’m his ex.”

“We only dated for months,” Tim said with a roll of his eyes.

“That’s Stephanie, a family friend,” Bruce cut in before things got far too out of hand. “You know Dick and this is Barbara, who he mentioned. Jason, my second oldest, is in the back with his boyfriend Roy, Duke is next to them, and this is Damian, my youngest.”

“Greetings,” Damian said. His tone was sever, but far more curious than cutting. Bruce was proud of the growth even if there was still more work to be done.

“Hello everyone. Like Tim said, I’m Danny,” Danny said with a little smile that was mostly real with just a bit of polite company strain. “Cass spent an afternoon in my office chatting with me. I suppose since we talked so much about the show, she invited me to see it. Sorry to invade your family time though, I didn’t know I would be doing that.”

“That’s just how this family goes,” Barbara said with a soft chuckle. “Trust me, I’ve been around them long enough to know how they absorb people.”

“Way to make us sound nefarious, Barbie,” Jason grumbled.

“No, no, you guys are,” Roy said casually. “It’s in a good way, sure, but you’re still sorta nefarious and you definitely absorb people. This isn’t even everyone.”

“Have I apologized for them already?” Bruce asked, though he supposed the fond warmth in his words ruined the intent.

Luckily Danny just gave a soft laugh. “Don’t. The best sort of family and friendships all have a good helping of chaos and malarkey.”

“Malarkey?” Steph repeated.

“It’s a good word, illiterate ingrate,” Jason defended.

The room dissolve into chaos and Bruce turned to apologize again only to find Danny watching the group with a small but fond smile.