#morally grey characters / nuanced characters are everything to me
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I'm going to regret this.
Sometimes the iwtv fandom makes me worry about the future of diversity in media. I mean I expect the racist assholes to pop up and bother everyone. That happens all the time and while it sucks, there are ways to filter those people out.
My big worry is honestly on the other end, where people are so desperate for harmony they end up treating minorities like monoliths of purity. Seriously, we have a show with morally grey characters of a variety of colors, a color conscious writing team, actors who constantly discuss the nuances of their characters, and people still find a reason to fight about this. Wasn't this the ideal we were asking for???
How are we supposed to evolve the representation in media if we can't go 2 seconds without fighting about which characters you're "allowed" to like?
You can't like Lestat because then you're condoning his behavior, but you can't condem anything Louis does cause then you're racist, but also you can't like Louis more than Armand because Louis was a pimp, but also you can't like Armand because he killed Claudia, but also that was all Lestat's fault and Armand did nothing wrong and if you don't ship Loumand it's because you're racist and if you do ship Loumand it's because you just hate Lestat and Anne Rice and puppies??? or something, and Clauida is the only character you're actually allowed to like except you are not allowed to like her unless you hate Lestat or Louis because as we've established it's really Lestat's fault she died and also Louis was a bad father and is responsible for Clauida's death so you cant like him either but also you are racist for thinking Louis did something wrong because black characters are not allowed to make mistakes or be nuanced or be human but also you don't get nuance if you like 1x05, you have to hate 1x05 because that episode of the toxic abusive vampire show dared to show toxic abusive vampires and ruined your precious precious perception of Lestat but also if you still like Lestat after that then you must hate Louis because Louis is 5 fucking years old and needs to be coddled but also he's a piece of shit and you cant like him and idk i don't really hear people argue about Daniel but maybe I'm just not looking hard enough and who ever cares cause I lost the plot about 100 fucking words ago.
Like jesus fuck we'll never weed out the racist people in the fandom cause we're too fucking busy fighting each other about, like, if we should let black characters be nuanced and interact with white characters who are mean??? Istg half this fandom thinks Louis (and Jacob Anderson for that matter) is like a battered helpless child who has never been able to stand up for himself. Louis is a character built from very real pain, he's always going to be kind of sad by virtue of that, but he's not 5, he can make decisions for himself.
How the fuck are we supposed to normalize diversity in media if we can't be fucking normal about diversity in media.
Fuck. Everything. And. Everyone.
#vent post#long post#rant post#will probably delete this#interview with the vampire#iwtv#amc iwtv#amc interview with the vampire#vampire chronicles#anne rice#louis de pointe du lac#lestat de lioncourt#claudia iwtv#armand iwtv#fandom discourse#fandom woes
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i finished watching buffy for the first time this week and itâs been a wild ride but something i feel genuinely surprised about is this idea that ppl have where spike falls into the dark, brooding, bad guy turned good trope. comparing him to the likes of draco, kylo ren, etc. it makes me rlly???? bc am i delusional? from season 2 onwards, spike always felt very funny to me; silly, goofy, light hearted. i mean he has a whole backstory about being a mommaâs boy/terrible poet. effulgent!!! blooming onion lover?? a loser and malewife first for dru and later for buffy. even peak âevilâ spike doesnât want to go along w dru/angelusâ plan bc he likes this world too much!! n thatâs long before he even has a soul! has moments where he can barely look buffy in the eye, gets tongue tied, âwhy havenât you killed the slayer yetâ good question adam!! maybe bc he loves the slayer!! getâs chained to a tub and letâs buffy feed him blood out of a âkiss the librarianâ mug. âgreat pumpkinâs on in 20â & canât forget about passions!! asking joyce for the lil marshmallows for his hot cocoa while he tells her all about how dru broke his fragile little heart đ and and when he gets turned into a vampire so of course immediately his first thought is to travel the world w his lover + canât forget about his mommy like !!! hello!!! are we watching the same show like heâs just a freaky little loser who luvs a girl bc duh who tf wouldnât love buffy, sheâs literally everything and he knows it too!
#im not trying to baby girl-ify him or w/e#or absolve him of all the bad heâs done#(which i think makes him an intriguing character - how heâs big and bad and dangerous and morally grey!!)#morally grey characters / nuanced characters are everything to me#im just saying he was so funny and a breath of fresh air sometimes#and so unserious#i never felt like he fit into a singular box/trope#btvs#spike#luci.txt
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if critiquing the actions of a flawed female character & acknowledging that she is flawed while still absolutely adoring her writing makes you misogynistic in the eyes of fandom i need to know what these people do about real fucking misogyny (Fucking Nothing)
#im not putting this in main tags but this is mostly about fan reception to people rightfully pointing out that mel did in fact manipulate +#jayce#like there are DEFINITELY PEOPLE BEING GROSS ABOUT IT#but being called everything under the sun by acknowledging her as a not great person is insane to me#like#none of the characters (minus ekko) (and id begin to argue vi as well) are wonderful people. they are all grey on the morality scale#every fucking character in this show is flawed i do want to talk on it without being treated like im hating the characters im speaking abou#please let me talk about the nuance without fearing people will take it the wrong way PLEAASEEE PLEASE PLEASEEEE#adding to this shes definitely a good person inherently but good people can make fucked up choices#her referring to jayce & vik as investments IS FUCKED UP GUYS. it IS FUCKED UP. NO MATTER HOW YOU TRY TO SPIN IT.#does that mean she did not care for jayce? no. does that make her a horrible person? also NO#i could go on and fucking on#mostly about how genuienly kindhearted of a person she is normally but i wish i was allowed to appreciate the nuance of her character witho#being afraid i will be treated poorly for pointing out in my own words that she is not a Perfect Person
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I finally watched breaking bad (all within the past week or so while I worked, finished it and watched el camino last night) and I'm confident this isn't a new thought I'm expressing or anything but genuinely how DID an entire generation of dudes convince themselves Walter White was cool and admirable and intended to be sympathetic. I know ppl just lack media literacy sometimes but I'm still so confused
I don't think I've EVER watched a piece of media that so blatantly depicts a guy making the worst possible decisions at every turn and having his life ruined for it and not being redeemed or made sympathetic in any significant or lasting way. the kinds of justifications villains USUALLY give that make people consider them "morally grey" or "tragic" or whatever (everything I did was for my loved ones, I did what I had to to survive, once I was in this I couldn't get out, I just needed you to trust me so I could keep you safe, etc etc) is ALWAYS framed as complete self-serving bullshit when Walt says it, and one of the only shreds of personal growth he ever exhibits in the whole series is when he finally fucking admits that. every time he does something even remotely cool or drops a quotable one-liner, something terrible immediately happens that makes everything worse and makes him look like an unreasonable idiot asshole again. by the end of the series the ONLY characters they can still contrast as being morally "worse" than him are literally a bunch of bloodthirsty neonazis who kept a guy in a cage for several months. this show is practically SCREAMING at you the entire time not to admire Walt. why did every dude I knew in highschool have his face on tshirts and Facebook pfps.
I just don't get it. at least with The Dark Knight's Joker it was like, a feature-length movie and that's it. you spend a lot less time with the Joker and it has a lot less time to delve into his motivations, so there's way more room for flanderization and misinterpretation as people extrapolate the few cool/interesting/sad things they saw into a whole nuanced misunderstood guy in their heads and online. Walter White has 5 seasons' worth of 45min episodes to convince you beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is a miserable fucking loser who ruins everything he touches because of greed and selfishness. if you weren't watching it for that, what WERE you getting out of this. what DID you think this show was about. am I just missing some key piece of context from 2012 or whatever that would help me understand this
#buny text#breaking bad#also I'm vaguely aware there was a big movement of fans who blamed everything on his wife and said she was the worst#which like. obvious misogyny from the primary audience of teen boys and young men aside#she's not really worse than any of the other adult characters?? she sucks real bad in the first couple seasons but so does everyone else#half the point of having all these characters be so shitty and rigid and unwilling to grow or accommodate others is so that#they can serve as landmarks to show how rapidly walt is abandoning his morals and spiraling into self-justification as the series goes on#the people you hate in season 1 are largely people you sympathize with in season 4 and 5 because compared to walt they're saints#idk. it's just weird having grown up around the fan culture for this show for the past decade or so and then finally watching it#and just being completely baffled now that i know what they were responding to
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Baby | ksy (m)
Pairing: Soongyoung x f. reader
Summary: Soonyoung had been in your life for as long as you can remember. You havenât spoken since your wedding to someone who isnât him, but when you uncover your husbandâs plans to turn against your family, you donât know who else to call. Â
Word Count:Â 29,988
Genre: Mafiaverse, Cyberpunk, Childhood Friends/Exes to Lovers
Type: Smut, Heavy Angst
Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
Warnings: Full warnings available under the cut.
â A/N: This fic is a part of my newly announced Syndicates Collection. I want to emphasize that in this fic, everyone is associated with criminal behavior and deeply ingrained in a Syndicate culture in which illegal activity, violence and drug use is the norm. If you cannot handle that - especially because I make no attempt to moralize their behavior - this isnât the fic for you. Additionally, there are violent scenes. It is a violent story. Thatâs okay if this isnât for you, just skip this one.Â
â A/N 2:  i love jo and jade the end <- left by @daechwitatamic while beta reading but also thank you @eoieopda for beta reading - also dropping this a day early because itâs @eoieopdaâs birthday and I love them very big. HBD shrimpie. Â
â Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.
Main Masterlist | The Syndicates Collection | Tag List Request Form | Ask | Playlist
Warnings: Graphic violence generally associated with mafia behavior, mentions of murder and blood, morally grey characters, themes of codependency (a little bit), a bit of a toxic relationship with Soonyoung and reader at times (they like to make each other jealous), bar fights, women being very petty, recreational drinking and drug use, heavy angst, depictions of death (funerals for parents), fight scene that ends in death in a domestic situation, difficult relationships with parents, reader and her husband have a terrible relationship and hate each other, depictions of blood and stabbing in one scene (it is the most graphic scene in the whole fic but kept short), reader agonizes over decisions she's made and struggles mentally with a lot of it, depiction of a full blown anxiety attack, sexually explicit content including fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, crying during sex, a lot of making out and biting, multiple orgasms... sorry this is so long, I want to over-warn for everything happening here so if I have missed something you think needs to be warned, please tell me!
Kwon Soonyoung is crying the first time you meet him. Itâs a loud, warbling cry that youâre not used to, and you flinch at the pitch as you hide behind your mother. Soonyoung and his mother are standing in the grand foyer of your home, his fists twisted in her tweed skirt as he begs her not to leave him.Â
His mother sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. Youâve seen her around before on the arm of her husband at your family dinner parties and for afternoon tea with your mom. This is the first time youâve seen Soonyoung, though, and youâre unimpressed as his shrieking only gets louder when she crouches down to look him in the eye fondly, brushing the tears from his face.Â
You donât know a lot of other kids, but the noisiness of him startles you. Unsettles you. Sensing your unease, your mother reaches to pull you from behind her, giving you a single look that you know means please behave. You straighten immediately, turning to watch the sniffling boy as he calms down.Â
Soonyoung is round-cheeked, his dark eyes swollen and face reddened from working himself up. His mother murmurs something to him and he nods, wiping the snot from his face with the back of his hand.
Seungcheol must notice the crying has stopped. He appears from the kitchen, giving Soonyoung an unimpressed once over as he strides toward you and your mother. She clucks her tongue at the cheek of her eleven year old, giving him a hard look.Â
âSeungcheol, donât be rude,â she admonishes. âGreet our guests properly.âÂ
Your older brother glances at you and you lift a shoulder. Heâs going to lead the family one day, itâs important for him to show manners. You know this even at a young age - have always known what his place is among your family, what your place is.Â
Cheol is in line to become the Tower of the Choi Syndicate, an empire that you cannot fathom at your age but you know is important. You are its insurance, a second heir if something happens to the first and a bargaining chip for future partnerships. A potential logician, if youâre good enough.Â
Turning to Soonyoung and his mother, Seungcheol bows politely. âItâs nice to meet you, Soonyoung. Are you here to play video games?âÂ
Soonyoung perks up at that, looking at his mom, eyes going round. She grins and nods her head, pulling her hands from where they rest on his shoulders. âHe is,â she agrees. âWe thought it might be good for you to become friends.â Her gaze drifts to you. âAll three of you.âÂ
That makes you frown. You donât really like playing video games. Seungcheol never lets you win and forces you to play for hours in exchange for him letting you borrow his AetherLink at night to scroll the internet. Youâre not allowed to have one yet, even though youâre only four years younger and all of your other friends have them to enter virtual chat rooms and play online games. Â
âDo I have to?â you ask your mom, looking up at her.Â
âYes,â she says firmly, gently nudging you by the shoulder toward where your brother is not so patiently waiting to escort you to the gaming room. âGo.âÂ
âWhy donât you want to play?â Soonyoung asks, pouting a little.
âIâm not any good.â
âThatâs okay. Iâll let you beat me.âÂ
Seungcheol moans. âUgh, donât let her win. Come on. I got the new Grid Fighters game on the Reality Rift console!âÂ
âNo way!âÂ
Seungcheol grins and shoots off toward the gaming room, Soonyoung hot on his heels. You hesitate for a moment, staring after them with indignation. Soonyoung stops at the doorway, turning to you. His face is still ruddy from crying, but heâs suddenly smiling, cheeks round and smooth.
âCome on,â he whispers. âIâll let you win, I promise.âÂ
âHoly fuck, can you let me win for once?â Soonyoung groans, rolling over on the mat. Heâs dripping in sweat, wiping it away from his brow as he stands with effort.Â
Grinning, you skip away from him, reaching for your water bottle. Music pounds through the speakers of the training room. Overhead, the blue neon casts an eerie glow over the two of you. Seungcheol ignores you both in favor of using the weight machines in the far corner of the room.Â
On the far wall, your health and fitness data is displayed, each one of your bodies outlined and flashing as new data comes in. Right now, youâre in the red zone, heart pounding hard from your bout with Soonyoung, who is in the orange zone.Â
Which confirms your suspicion that heâs not trying as hard as he could be.Â
âMaybe if you werenât afraid to actually hit me,â you offer. The water helps cool you down as you eye Soonyoung. Even at fourteen, heâs started to fill out his form more, arms corded as he hones himself into a weapon. âYouâre not going to hurt me.â
Seungcheol scoffs from across the room. Maybe he wasnât totally ignoring the two of you. He drops his cool-older-kid act to turn and grumble, âHeâd put you on your ass, Baby. Lucky for you, he always lets you win.âÂ
The nickname makes you bristle. You hate when people point out that youâre the baby of the family, like youâre something less than or incapable of keeping pace. You especially hate it when Seungcheol uses it to put you in your place, reminding you that one day your shithead older brother is going to be leading the family business.Â
The family business is the reason you spar with them at all. Occasionally Vernon joins, though those days are as unpredictable as his appearances. Usually when heâs over at your house, itâs never a good thing. His arrivals are always bracketed with the sound of his fatherâs manic yelling and his motherâs frantic begging, followed closely by slammed doors and your fatherâs calming voice.Â
Today itâs just the three of you, though. Soonyoung comes over and sits on the mat by your feet, holding a hand up to you. You pass him your water bottle, rolling your eyes at him even though it doesnât really bother you.Â
Nothing Soonyoung does really bothers you. Since that first day he showed up at your house sobbing because his mother was leaving him for the day, heâs grown on you. More than grown on you, in fact. Youâre pretty sure he hasnât noticed your lingering gazes and the way he flusters you when he gets too close, and you hope to keep it that way.Â
âI donât want to hit you,â Soonyoung offers gently, voice low over the metal clang of Seuncheolâs weights. âAnd itâs not âcause I donât think you canât take it,â he adds with a grin, bumping his shoulder against your leg. âI just donât like the idea of you getting hurt.âÂ
âEveryone treats me like a baby.âÂ
âYou are. But itâs not a bad thing. For example, you say jump and everyone says how high. Even my dad.âÂ
That makes you smirk a little. You look at the floor, letting his words wash over you. They do ring true - thereâs no one in the Syndicate who would deny you anything, and though youâre utterly terrified of Soonyoungâs dad, he would do anything for you. In a way, it was the Kwon familyâs divine purpose to be by the side of the Chois.Â
âWhat about you?â you ask.Â
âWhat about me?âÂ
âJump.â
Soonyoung grins and sets the water bottle down, getting up to his feet at your command. âHow high, Baby?âÂ
Soonyoung doesnât shed a tear on the day of his parentsâ funeral. Heâs a far cry from the little boy who showed up at your house to play video games and become friends.Â
Instead, he sits in silence, eyes raging - always raging, now. You donât think the fury stops, his gaze burning the entire ceremony. His grip on your hand is like iron, and after a while, your arm tingles with pins and needles. You say nothing, willing to endure. Eventually, your arm goes numb entirely, and he keeps holding your hand.Â
Afterward, Soonyoung says nothing. You do the talking for him, accepting the hand shakes and bows on his behalf when he doesnât reach out to accept them, thanking those who have come to offer him condolences and respect when he doesnât speak.
His grip on you is steadfast. Iron and fire. Even when your father drops his gaze down with a look of disapproval, Soonyoung doesnât let go and you donât ask him to. If thereâs any day that you can break decorum and tradition, itâs certainly now in the wake of Soonyoungâs loss.Â
They donât need to know youâd let him hold you anyway. Â
The boy who existed before the murder of his parents is dead. You knew it before the funeral. But when the last guest finally leaves the Choi Estate and Soonyoung doesnât shed a tear, you realize it isnât just his parents that youâve buried.Â
The sweet, gentle boy who had cried those tears for fear of his mother leaving him has died too. And you donât think youâll ever see him again.Â
âYou want me to do what?â Soonyoung asks, pulling you into his room and looking out the cracked door to make sure no one else is around. âWhere is your brother?âÂ
âI have no idea.âÂ
âYou canât just- â Soonyoung fumbles for words as he shuts the door and takes a few steps past you into his room proper. Itâs dark, safe for the glow of his AetherLink glowing with a paused video game. âDid he see you follow me up here?âÂ
âWhy are you being weird? Iâm in here all the time. You live here.âÂ
âIâm being weird? You just asked me to kiss you. Neither your brother nor your dad want you in my room in the middle of the night.âÂ
You frown. âSince when? Look, Iâm sixteen and Iâve never been kissed, and Lin just lost her virginity to Jeonghan. What happened to when I say jump you say how high?â
âOh donât start with me. Who cares if Lin is giving it up to Jeonghan. She blew Wonwoo like two weeks ago. Itâs not a competition.âÂ
You cross your arms over your chest, caving in on yourself a little. Maybe it was a stupid idea to ask Soonyoung after all. But you canât get over the way all of the other girls were clinging to Linâs every word as she spilled the details of sleeping with Jeonghan. Everyone else in your friends group had at least made out with boys - you had nothing.Â
Being the daughter of the leader of the Choi Syndicate has its benefits. Being accessible to do things like kissing boys and going out with your friends to new cool clubs like Echo Space and Hyper Vibe were not one of them. Getting any of the boys your age to even look you in the eye was impossible, the fear of catching the wrath of Seungcheol and your father looming over them like the Sword of Damocles.Â
Soonyoung is Soonyoung, though. Your father has brought him into the fold like one of his own, keeping his oath to Soonyoungâs parents to always watch over him and protect him. Youâre old enough now to understand that the bonds between higher members of the Syndicate are bonds of faith and blood, of family and something more.Â
If anyone shouldnât be afraid to kiss you, itâs Soonyoung. He lives down the hall from you, and heâs best friends with your brother. It wouldnât be that weird. At least, thatâs what you told yourself as you lay awake in your bed at night while you stared at the ceiling, fingers trailing your lips.Â
Now, youâre not so sure. The way Soonyoung recoils makes you realize you hadnât thought of the single most important thing before marching in here and asking him to be your first kiss: maybe Soonyoung didnât want to kiss you.Â
It hadnât even crossed your mind - one of the many downsides to getting mostly everything you wanted. Youâre so infrequently told no that in the light of rejection, you donât know what to do, recoiling like youâve been mortally wounded.Â
Nodding your head, you turn away from Soonyoung, throat tightening as the new wave of emotions threatens to spill over. âYouâre right, Iâm sorry.âÂ
âBaby,â he sighs. You ignore him, bolting for the door. Soonyoung is fast, though. He snatches your arm and drags you back toward him, though you turn your face away from him to hide the evidence of oncoming tears. âDonât be like that.âÂ
âIâm not being like anything. It was a stupid favor to ask.âÂ
âWould you look at me?â
âNo.â
He sighs heavily. âWhy are you being so difficult?â
Trying to wrench your arm from his hold is useless. Heâs not hurting you, but the grip on your bicep is firm. âWell if Iâm so difficult then let me go.â
âBaby.â The frustration in his voice is evident. You ignore the way your nickname rolls off his tongue, the way heâs the only person you donât absolutely hate the name from.Â
âJust let me go!âÂ
âNo. Why do you want me to kiss you?â
The question is like nails against chalkboard now, your embarrassment peaking. âForget I even asked, just let me go!âÂ
âFuck - are you crying?â
âNo.â
âBaby, look at me.â
Too afraid that the wavering in your voice will give you away, you shake your head, refusing to turn and face him. With a growl, he gives a sharp tug on your arm, spinning you toward him. You let out a noise of protest, ready to lash out at him again when you feel his mouth on yours.Â
Startled, you donât do anything at first. Soonyoungâs grip is still on your bicep, firm and steadfast. Your eyes blink for a second before they flutter closed, unsure exactly what to do beyond lean into him a little, pressing your lips firmer to his.Â
Itâs somehow exactly what you expected and totally unexpected at the same time. Soonyoungâs mouth is softer than you were ready for, slotted gently against yours. Heâs warm and smells like vanilla and sandalwood, a scent youâve grown familiar with. Your thoughts peter out, enjoying the way he holds you to him, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.Â
When Soonyoung pulls away, you look up at him through half-lidded eyes, your breath shaky. He doesnât pull back very far, looking down at you with a dark gaze. This close, you can see the real Soonyoung. His expression is soft, eyes sparkling in the blue light of his room. He looks so young suddenly, all of the rage and wrath that lurks under the surface of the calm mask he wears gone for just a moment.Â
âYou have pretty eyes,â you whisper. His mouth twitches at the corner, an almost smile. âIâve always thought you had beautiful eyes.âÂ
He opens and closes his mouth again, trying to find words. You wait him out, heart thudding. Heâs still holding you close to him, fingers digging desperately into your arm.Â
Footsteps thundering up the stairs wake him from his daze, Seungcheol calling your name. Soonyoung drops his hand and steps away from you, a cool mask of calm sliding into place, the vulnerability gone in an instant. âThereâs your kiss,â he murmurs. âIs there anything else you need from me or do I need to jump too?âÂ
Synth pulses through you, vibrating your very bones as you lounge on the velvet couch in a private section of the club. The lights above you are hazy, but you can make out the shapes of holographic dancers, their graphics so high definition that you can see the sweat beading down their bare backs.Â
From the VIP section, you have the perfect view of the DJ platform. Screens flash behind it, holographic wonders of creatures and places and visuals flashing brightly. Writhing bodies twist on the dancefloor around the DJ like a pit of snakes. Among them, you know your fatherâs Taps slither among the crowd, pushing drugs and psychedelics into the hands of those who can afford it.Â
A trained eye can spot a Tap well enough. Though they blend in with the nylon and leather of the partiers, they tend to be sharp eyed and lucid, chewing on stim pops or some other substance to keep them awake and alert.Â
Itâs not the drug dealers in the crowd who keep drawing your attention, though. You shouldnât be able to spot Soonyoung in the mass of bodies so easily, but you do. His hair is bleached, reflecting the flashing lights around him as he presses in close to the girl attached to him, hips swaying.
Your mouth sours. Leaning forward you snatch one of the bottles from the ice bucket and pour a shot into a crystal glass. Angel raises her brows as you slide the glass over to her and pour another for yourself. Sheâs not much of a drinker, but she takes the glass wordlessly, sensing your need to have a partner in crime.
Knocking it back, you hiss as the liquor burns all the way back. Even the high grade alcohol is like fire, washing away your irritation for a dizzy moment, veins buzzing. Leaning back, your eyes scan the crowd and settle on Soonyoung again. This time, heâs leading his partner through the crowd and toward the stairs. The stairs that lead to you.Â
Seungcheol and Wonwoo crashing onto the seat next to you breaks your concentration. Seungcheolâs pupils are wide as saucers, eyes trailing upward to dance at the visual of a woman with pink skin sliding out of her top.Â
Next to him, Wonwoo pulls a small bag with glittering dust from his pocket, shaking it to settle all of the contents at the bottom before unsealing the top. The way the powder glows against the lights tells you its high quality frostbyte, a powerful stimulant named for the biting feeling when inhaled.Â
Instead of yelling over the music, you gesture toward the bag, catching Wonwooâs attention. He gives you a surprised look followed by a wolfish grin. Wonwoo loves when you partake in partying harder, a side everyone so rarely sees from you.Â
Sliding a knife from his pocket, you watch with rapt attention as Wonwoo dips it into the baggie, scooping delicately. Youâd rather he cut lines on the table, but youâll take what you can get, watching as he expertly fishes out a decent sized amount for you to take.Â
Youâre mutely aware that a group of bodies enters your section. Vernon throws himself down next to Angel, jostling you both as you lean over Seungcheolâs half-asleep form toward where Wonwoo extends the knife toward you carefully. You ignore the weight of Soonyoungâs eyes on you as he, Mingyu and a group of girls sit down and reach to fill their glasses with liquor.Â
Wonwooâs hands are steady as he holds the tip of his blade out to you, a hand held underneath to catch any powder that slips off the blade. Careful not to lose your balance and stab yourself, you level your face with the knife, inhaling sharply.Â
Immediately the drug bites the back of your throat, eyes watering as you tilt your head upwards and blink for a second, letting it settle. Sniffing harshly a few times, you clear your nasal passage and blow out a breath, feeling the softest beginning of a tingle as you look at Wonwoo, who is still holding his hands out to you.Â
âThanks,â you nod. He grins and pulls back, rubbing the excess powder along his gums as you fall heavily against the back of the booth.Â
Turning to look at your brother, you elbow him. âAre you alive?â
âMhmm,â he grunts, eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest. Lights dance across his face, all pinks and blues and purples as he breathes in heavily. âI am fucked right now. Can you get me a stim pop from Hoshi? If I do anymore frostbyte Iâm gonna get a nosebleed. Again.âÂ
Actually, asking Soonyoung for anything is the last thing you want to do. However, your brother does look like he needs to wake up, the mess of drugs and alcohol in his system working overtime to put him on his ass. Stim pops are a quick fix, a careful mix of sweet candy and methylphenidate to wake up the nervous system. Soongyoung always has them on his person, especially for when he works late night shifts.Â
Turning in the booth, youâre smacked with a wave of color. For a moment, you drink it in, tilting your head upward as the figures dancing above explode into a world of lavender butterflies. Theyâre utterly captivating, your eyes watching them twist and dance in the air as they flutter.Â
A laugh bubbles from your lips, entirely childlike. Grinning, you watch them for a few moments more before they disintegrate into stars, entire solar systems hovering and floating through the space above your head.
Seungcheol elbowing you breaks you from your concentration. Right. Stim pop. From Soonyoung. Glancing at the man in question makes your stomach plummet. Soonyoungâs head is resting against the back of the booth, the girl next to him draped over him with her mouth pressed hot to his throat, her teeth overly white in the blacklight of the club.Â
A surge of rage shivers through you, your nails scratching across the green velvet, leaving marks in their wake. Leaning forward, you reach out a hand and smack Vernonâs knee to get his attention. He turns his lazy gaze on you, brows raised. When you point at Soonyoung, he nods and yells over his shoulder to get your targetâs attention.
Soonyoungâs eyes flutter open and flick to where youâre sitting. He drinks in your expression before muttering something to the woman mouthing at his neck and peels her off, standing up and shuffling over to you. Angel makes room for him, all but sliding into Vernonâs lap as Soonyoung crashes down on the couch next to you.Â
âHi, Baby. Whatâs up?âÂ
âCheol needs a stim pop,â you answer curtly, leaning away from him. He smells like vanilla and sandalwood laced with alcohol. Soonyoung is so close you can feel his body heat, his breath fanning across your bare shoulder as he moves to look at Seungcheol half asleep on your other side. âThen you can go back to your little public sex session.âÂ
Soonyoung makes an angry cat noise, narrowing his eyes at you as he smirks. He leans toward you further to reach into his pocket, shoulder pressed against you. His scent fills your nose, heady and familiar. Youâre dizzy with it, the touch of his warmth against your skin making you flush.
Suddenly, his nearness is overwhelming. Every hair on the back of your neck stands on end, your skin hypersensitive to the way he leans against you. The glow of the lights is sharper than you remember, and you swear you feel the blood rushing through your body.
A response that could be either because of the drugs you inhaled a moment ago or because Soonyoung is pressed against you and you have the sudden urge to lean into him, to feel his warmth, to press your lips against his and feel their softness.Â
In an attempt to save yourself from the trap, you shove back at him. He huffs, glaring at you as he fishes a stim pop out of his pocket and hands it over to you. Youâre careful to avoid his touch when you snatch it from his nimble fingers, turning your back on him in the booth to look at Seungcheol.
âWhy are you being a brat?â His voice is loud over the music, shouted into your ear as he tilts back into your space again. You can feel the warmth of him on your back.Â
âGo away.â
âBaby, please donât start with me.â
âIâm not starting fuck with you.âÂ
Seungcheol cracks an eye open to observe your argument with a look of interest. Seungcheolâs pupils are dilated like moons, totally empty of any coherent thought. You peel the wrapper off the stim pop, careful to hold it by the cardboard stick as you pop it into your brotherâs mouth.Â
For a few moments, your brother lolls the candy around his mouth, sucking greedily. Then, he blinks his eyes open, pupils narrowing as he drinks in the lights and the clubs. He sighs in relief, patting your thigh gratefully as the stimulant chases away whatever else is washing him out.
When you turn around, Soonyoung is still lingering, his dark eyes fierce and focused only on you. He looks good tonight. He looks good every night. He has become your picture perfect torture since that night you asked him to be your first kiss, kickstarting something you were incapable of foreseeing.Â
The bleached hair is new and you hate how much you like it. The silvery strands look just as soft as his natural black, and itâs a nice contrast to his dark eyes and sharp cheekbones. Those stormy eyes are staring at you now, something playful that you donât like glittering under the surface.Â
He pouts at you. âWhy are you mad at me?â
âIâm not mad at you. Go away!â
âYou definitely are. What did I do, hmm? Tell me.âÂ
âPlease fuck off.âÂ
He rolls his eyes, peeling himself off the couch and muttering something under his breath. Youâre sure he has nothing nice to say, so you sink further into the couch, crossing your hands over your chest as you sulk.Â
Sticky air clings to your skin. You can feel your heart racing in your chest, the music vibrating your ribcage. Your anger is like a monster given life, fueled by the frostbyte and the feverish anger taking root in your stomach as Soonyoung settles back in his spot, pressing his mouth sloppily to the woman next to him.Â
And thatâs the problem, really. Itâs not you that is pressing your mouth to his jaw while he leans against the back of the seat. It isnât you running manicured nails down the front of his shirts, pulling at buttons despite the audience.Â
It isnât you and it should be. You want it to be.
Itâs been two years since Soonyoung kissed you for the first time in his room. Youâve had more experience with other people since then, but it dulls in comparison to his simple kiss. You hate it. What you hate even more is how childish it makes you feel, embarrassment heating your cheeks and throat when he catches your gaze across the booth and you divert your attention.Â
For the second time, Soonyoung peels the girl off of him, making like heâs going to get up and come sit next to you again. This time, his companion keeps him rooted to the spot, her nails digging into his forearm as she hisses something at him. He groans, head tilted back like heâs once again the most inconvenienced man in the room.Â
Wanting nothing more than to blot him out, you call Wonwooâs name again, leaning forward heavily for more frostbyte. Soonyoung whistles and snaps his finger in your direction as though to tell you no. You bristle, your anger turning to an inferno, burning up inside of you.Â
Vernon and Angel both cringe, leaning out of your line of fire as you swivel to angle yourself toward Soonyoung, hands shaking. âDonât fucking whistle and snap at me! Iâm not a dog.â
âBaby, you donât need more. Your pupils are the size of Mingyuâs big ass head.â
Mingyu, though right next to Soonyoung, doesnât hear the insult, his tongue being sucked down the throat of the girl sitting in his lap, hips grinding on him. Another girl is pressed to his side, teeth nipping at his jaw. At least someone is having fun, you think, the three of them totally aware of the crackling tension in their booth.Â
The girl attached to Soonyoungâs neck a moment ago bristles when she hears your nickname. âBaby?â she asks, face scrunching. âAre you serious?â
âChill out, Victra. Itâs her nickname.â
âYeah,â you agree, shooting her a venomous look, despite her doing nothing to earn your ire. âChill, Victra.â
Once again, you turn your back on Soonyoung, standing and scooting Seungcheol over to swap places with him. He does so with a keen eye, watching the scene unfold as he sucks his lollipop happily, content to watch the drama.Â
Wonwoo dips his knife into the bag as you settle in next to him, bouncing with excitement. âI love when you do drugs, youâre so much fun.âÂ
âI donât feel very fun right now.â
âDrugs will fix it!âÂ
âWonwoo, donât you dare give her that,â Soonyoung warns. He pries Victraâs hands off of him, leaning forward as though to reach across the table.Â
âIgnore him,â you insist.Â
Wonwoo hesitates, stuck between a rock and a hard place. The last thing he wants to do is tell you no. No one but your father and older brother get to tell you no. Wonwoo knows this better than most people. But he also doesnât want to cross Soonyoung, a venture nearly as dangerous as pissing off Seungcheol.Â
Soonyoung hisses at the girl next to him, âStop clawing at me! Baby, please stop being stubborn for one moment. Just one. â
âWhy the fuck did you even bring me up here?â Victra interrupts, ignoring Soonyoungâs plea. âYouâve done nothing but fawn over her since we got here. This isnât fun.âÂ
Soonyoung ignores her. âIf youâre mad at me, be mad at me. Stop blowing shit up your nose to prove a point and be a bitch, though.â
âIâm not proving fuck, Soonyoung. And Victraâs right, go fuck her in the bathroom or something and stop telling me what to do.â
âSo it is about her?âÂ
âI have a name!â The her in question snaps. You turn around, temper flaring as you level your glare at her. She turns her nose up at you as she says, âItâs obvious youâre bothered he brought me here. Your jealousy is insufferable.âÂ
âDing, ding ding,â Seungcheol imitates a bell. You turn around to look at Victra. âRound one! Fight!â
It takes a second for Victraâs words to land. Itâs like each one hits you a second apart, packing their own punch as you register them. The pulsing music around you fades to a dull roar as you stare at her, seeing the way her lips twitch upward as she realizes sheâs right. You are jealous that Soonyoung brought her up here.Â
Victraâs grin is all it takes for you to spill over. Before you can register what youâre doing, youâre out of your seat and leaping over the table at her, knocking over glasses and bottles. Wonwoo cheers in delight behind you as your brother catches you by the waist, trying to keep you on your side of the booth as you tear at his hands to get across the booth.Â
Seeing the attack of opportunity while youâre subdued, Victra shoots to her feet. Angel is fast as an adder, one moment sitting in Vernonâs lap and the next striking Victra down into the booth, knee planted in her stomach. Vernon does nothing to stop his girlfriend, opting instead to reach for a water bottle, unscrewing it to take a sip as his girlfriend pins Victra down to the seat with little effort.Â
Noticing for the first time that their friend is in distress, the two women with Mingyu lift their heads. As soon as one starts to slide from his lap to reach for Angel, you kick a foot out, striking the bucket of alcohol and ice. The bucket goes flying at her, hitting her hard in the face. She screams, crumbling in Mingyuâs lap, cradling her face.Â
Mingyu and Soonyoung are on their feet in seconds, soaked from the waist down and trying to gain control of the situation as it spirals. Mingyu becomes a blockade between Victraâs two friends, trying to keep them on their side of the booth. Soonyoung is prying a bottle from a hand before it can make its way toward you, yelling something indecipherable.Â
Angel is still pressing her knee deep into Victraâs gut. Victraâs attention has diverted from you entirely as she screams like a wounded animal, pushing and scratching at Angelâs knee to try and get her off. Youâre sure it hurts, but Angel doesnât budge, sinking her weight into it.Â
Leaning down, you grab something to lob at them - someoneâs shoe - but Seungcheol manages to haul you off your feet and spin you, planting you into the booth behind him. You growl, shoving at his legs to move him out of the way, trying to re-engage.Â
âFucking hell,â he grunts. âAre you fucking juicing? Why are you so strong?â
âItâs the drugs,â Wonwoo offers unhelpfully. âReally top of the line drugs.â
âShut up, Wonwoo!â Both you and Seungcheol bark at the same time.Â
Wonwoo holds up his hands, leaning back into the seat as he watches the mess unfold with a delighted grin. You strike out with your foot, slamming against the boothâs table, shoving it in Soonyoungâs direction. You hear glass shatter as more things fall off the table, clattering to the ground. There are shrieks and curses that you canât see with Seungcheol blocking the way.Â
âHeâs a fucking asshole!â You seethe to your brother, panting with rage.Â
âHe is, and you did exactly what he wanted you to do.â You try to kick the table again but he stops you, grabbing your knee. You feel like you canât get enough air, sweat slicking your skin and the velvet of the couch too sharp against your flesh. âSoonyoung loves a fight when heâs fucked up. You know that.âÂ
âWell fuck him!â
He pulls the stick from his mouth, candied stim gone. He tosses it onto the floor and looks over his shoulder where Mingyu and Soonyoung are corralling the three women out of the booth. âGod, Angel broke that girl's rib I think. Hahahha!âÂ
âI want to break her fucking face!âÂ
âI think you broke her friend's face. She is fucked up. That bucket hit her right in the eye. What a shot.âÂ
âIf youâre so entertained, whyâd you get in my way?â
âThereâs a lot of eyes here.â You glance around, noticing other booths looking at you, people ducking toward one another to whisper. âYou have an image to maintain.âÂ
Adjusting your shirt, you settle back into the booth. âAlright. Alright Iâm good.â
When Seungcheol moves out of the way to take a seat, Soonyoung replaces him. You glare up at him, feeling your anger curl up in you again. His lips twitch, a hint of a smirk as he sits down next to you, sighing heavily and tilting his head to look up at the flashing lights.
The girls are nowhere to be found. Angel is sitting back down next to Vernon who hasnât moved, and there are servers picking up the mess you made. Mingyu is notably absent, though you can guess where heâs gone for the night. Heâs good at making scorned lovers feel better about their bad luck.Â
âJealousy is crazy on you,â Soonyoung notes, tonguing the inside of his cheek as he glances at you sidelong. âI kind of like it.âÂ
âDonât ever do that to me again,â you warn. He laughs, the fight totally leaving him. âIâm serious. Donât ever do that to me again, Soonyoung. Not to me.âÂ
âAlright, alright. When you say jump, right?âÂ
Soonyoungâs fingers brush against yours. Just the rough feeling of his calluses against the tips of your fingers has you shivering, anger replaced with want. He doesnât take your hand, doesnât move to do anything else but lean back in silence with your fingers touching.Â
Resigned, you say nothing else to him. Youâd got what you wanted - sort of - even if you know you made an ass out of yourself doing it. It isnât the first time heâs made you jealous, but it is the first time itâs boiled over so violently.Â
You remind yourself not to do frostbyte when youâre mad anymore.
You turn your attention to where Angel is snorting frostbyte up her nose off of her boyfriendâs phone, accidentally turning on the hologram as she does, her face suddenly caged by green screen data. You call her name gently. She looks up at you, pupils blown, reflecting the lights dancing above like dark glass. âThanks,â you offer.Â
Her grin is too wide, teeth too white. She reminds you of a demon more than she does an angel. âAnytime.âÂ
When you settle back in, you glance at Soonyoung once. He looks down at you, smirking a single time before he leans into you and rests his head on your shoulder. You feel him melt into you, sighing as his eyes close and he nuzzles a little closer. You put your hand on his thigh, squeezing once before you leave it there, feeling the heat of his skin through his pants.
It isnât until heâs almost asleep, pressed as close as possible to you that you realize maybe he got what he wanted too.Â
Rain washes over the black city, the mist turning the thousands of digital and holographic advertisements into a watercolor smear of neon. It smells wet and like rot, the drains overworked and belching water and trash back out into the street as you walk, feet splashing.Â
You quickly duck out of the way of a group of rowdy men spilling from a bar. You can smell the drink on them, their feet sloshing in the rising water of the street as they dredge toward the next bar. They whistle at the pretty girls dressed in light up raincoats and flickering green contacts, stumbling toward a brothel instead of the bar.Â
Gripping your umbrella tighter, you quicken your steps. Grease smoke drifts toward you from various hawker carts, the sizzle of meat making your stomach growl. You ignore them, knowing you have dinner with your family later as you take a corner and plunge into the darkness of an underground stairwell.Â
The LEDs on your umbrella cast a pink light as you descend the stairs, careful not to slip on the caked grime. Two guards stand outside metal double doors, music pulsing faintly behind it. They look you up and down, ready to deny entry until you state your name at the bottom of the steps.Â
âID?â the one on the right asks, giving you a critical eye.Â
Of course he doesn't believe you. The daughter of the Tower would never walk anywhere without a body guard, especially in this part of the city. You spin the umbrella, the pink coalescing as he takes the phone from your hand and taps it, blue lighting up his face when your ID and profile appear in holographic data above the screen.Â
He clears his throat and bows at the waist. When his counterpart doesnât, he smacks him hard on the back, making the man lean over. âApologies, Miss Choi. Right this way.âÂ
Music hits you full on when the doors open, the base creating static in the air. You cringe as it vibrates through your ribcage and teeth, wondering how anyone could stand to be in a club this loud. Popping the umbrella shut, you let your eyes adjust while one security guard remains at the door, shutting it behind you, and the other hands you your ID.
âShould I escort you to the office, Miss?âÂ
Writhing bodies dance together, scintillating like snakes in a pit. Above them, lasers and holograms light up the world with flashes of colors you didnât even know existed. A wide bar stretches to the left of the floor, lit up by soft cyan lights. Behind it, the bartenders move in a blur, the glow on their clothes turning them ethereal.Â
You glance at the security guard, who waits patiently before shaking your head. You point to the space above the bar where there are two large, mirrored windows looking out into the club. âUp there?â
âYes,â he answers, hesitating. âLet me escort you.âÂ
With a roll of your eyes you nod, gesturing to him to lead the way. He clears a path, clubbers and workers alike moving out of his way when he shoves them. You walk behind him, swinging your head from side-to-side as you look at the people, fascinated.Â
People with spikes pierced in their skin and whorling tattoos with glow ink stare back at you, glowing contact lenses and gemmed teeth all taking you in. You rarely get to mix in with the crowd that partakes in more unique cosmetic alterations and fashion, fascinated by someone who walks by with red glowing face tattoos like a demon mask.Â
At the foot of the stairs, the guard lets you walk up first. Itâs clear of people, so he remains standing at the bottom, taking up an imposing position with his hands linked in front of him, blocking the stairway entirely.Â
The thud of music vibrates through your boots as you climb the stairs, greeting another security guard. You can tell heâs already been warned youâre here - he bows immediately and keys in the pad at the door, opening the office for you.Â
You pass by him airily, stepping into the dry and much cooler office. The door closes behind you, immediately cutting off the sound with highâtech sound proofing. Soonyoung is leaning against the bar, his back to the door as he watches out the windows, a glass in his hand.Â
âWhat in the fuck are you doing?â he asks, tossing you a look over his shoulder. You grin, skipping over to him. He doesnât grin back, looking you up and down as you join him. You reach for the decanter heâs drinking from but he smacks your hand, viper fast. âNot a chance.â
âWhat? Why not?â
âYou shouldnât be here, much less without a security team. The Tower will be livid.âÂ
âThe Tower doesnât have to know.â
Soonyoungâs jaw flexes. âThe security team will tell him you were here.â
âNot if you tell them not to.â
âBaby,â he sighs, tilting his head up and closing his eyes. You lean against the bar, watching him. The lights from the club are dimmer in here, but they flash against his face, painting him in golden light. Heâs beautiful. âWhat are you doing here?â
âAngel said you had a bad day.â
âI always have a bad day. And tell Angel to shut her mouth.â
You snort. âYou tell her that.â
That gets a grin out of him. He lowers his head, dark gaze finding yours. âYou canât just walk around the Lower City without a personal guard, Baby.â
âIâm not helpless.â
âI know youâre not. Iâm not either but people try to rob me all the time. You, on the other hand, are a lot prettier of a prize than I am.âÂ
âSo you think Iâm pretty?â
This time when Soonyoung sighs, itâs affectionate. He sips his glass of amber liquid, turning to watch the crowd outside the office. He holds out his glass to you, a concession. You grin further, accepting it from him and bring it up to your nose to smell. You donât know anything about liquor, but from the spiced scent you can tell itâs good quality.
You take a tiny sip. It goes down smooth - strong, but good and warm. Instead of giving him the glass back, you cradle it to your chest, leaning against the bar next to him close enough that your arms are almost touching. He continues looking out at the crowd, keen eyes serious and back to work while you look at him.Â
Soonyoung is beautiful. His side profile is lethal, the slope of his neck elegant, the curve of his jaw sharp but delicate, his high cheekbones catching the light. His eyes are dark pools, reflecting the snatches of light that come through the dark windows.Â
âDid you come here to stare at me?â he asks, never taking his eyes off the crowd.Â
âWhat if I said I did?âÂ
His mouth twitches at the corner. âUnfortunately I would believe you.â
Watching over clubs isnât usually Soonyoungâs job. But this club is in a terrible part of the city and isnât worth much to the Choi Syndicate, so sometimes heâs awarded the opportunity to prove himself to your father and to the elders of the Syndicate that heâs competent and capable of leadership, despite the fact youâve always known him to be.Â
Soonyoung isnât meant for leading like Seungcheol. But there is a certain level of loyalty and understanding he has to cultivate with the heavies of the family, the Swords who carry out the bloody tasks of removing people from the way and keeping assets safe. His father had been the Sentinel of your family for years until his death, and Soonyoung is expected to pick up that mantle.
This is all a part of that. Soonyoung already has the loyalty of the security team running this hole in the wall, alerting him the second you arrived and refusing to let you go up the stairs alone. Had they failed to do that, you might think a little less of them.Â
Soonyoung also probably would have had them beaten.Â
Finally, Soonyoung turns to look at you. He sighs and raises his brows expectantly.Â
âWhat?â you ask.Â
âWhat did you come here for? Real answer, this time.âÂ
âI told you. Angel said you had a bad day. That is my real answer.â
âAnd?â
You shrug, sipping from the glass and turning toward the windows. âI wanted to make it a better one.âÂ
That makes him go silent. You can see him turn to look at you, his stormy gaze pinning you to the spot. You donât look at him, letting him stare as you nurse the drink and watch the dancing crowd down below. Theyâre beautiful, in a way, an ocean of bodies saying as colors turn them blue and then green and then bright red and then lavender.Â
Soonyoung leans toward you, bumping his head on yours lightly. That gets a laugh out of you, stomach fluttering and wishing he would stay leaned against you. He pulls away though, crossing his arms over his chest and turning his eyes back to his job.Â
âThank you,â he finally says, voice quiet. âIt is already a better day.âÂ
The silence is comfortable. You eventually give him the drink back and he takes it, tongue darting out to lick the lip gloss you left. He hums. âCherries.âÂ
âYouâre gross.âÂ
He smiles into the glass, taking a sip. âI actually have something for you.âÂ
âA present?â
He snorts. âNot exactly. Go to the desk - top drawer on the right.âÂ
Eagerly, you do as he says. The heavy wooden desk sits in the back of the room, imposing even without the metal lockers behind it with weapons. You ignore the heavy guns under padlocks and go for the drawer in question.Â
A rectangular box is in the drawer Soonyoung specified, unmarked. You turn it over in your hands, curious. Itâs not very heavy and fits mostly in your palm.Â
âBring it over here.âÂ
You do, trailing back to Soonyoung. He extends his hand and you pass it over to him, watching with interest as he cracks the box open with the sheer strength of his fingers. He pulls out a small device, a wire and what looks to be a plug, tossing the box to the bar.Â
âDo you know what this is?â he asks, holding up the device.Â
Itâs a small rectangle with a keypad and a screen. You raise your brows in surprise. âIt is a very old phone.âÂ
âIt is.â He smiles, pleased with your answer. He passes the materials over to you and you hold them against your chest. âThatâs the charger and the charging cord. Itâs one of the old kinds of phones that requires a phone tower. There are barely any in the city.âÂ
âAnd what is this gift for?âÂ
âI own the phone towers that support it.â You raise your brows. Soonyoung rarely spends the inheritance his parents left behind, so youâre surprised. âIt only has a single phone number programmed into it that will call the one I have.â
At this, he reaches into his pocket and produces the phoneâs twin. He shakes it for emphasis, pressing a button and lighting up the screen. âYou have to make sure to keep it charged. I want you to have it for emergencies only. And I mean emergencies, Baby. This is a last resort kind of device, alright?âÂ
You chew your bottom lip, dragging your eyes to look up at him. âWhy?âÂ
âBecause I need to know that you always have a last resort.â His gaze darkens. âClearly your assigned security team lets you give them the slip. I need to know that you can hit the dial on this faster than you can on our phones. Theyâre overly complicated and not quick. With this?âÂ
He reaches over and turns on the phone in your hand. Once booted, he presses the one button. The device in his hand starts ringing. âDirect and fast access to me at all times. Do it even if you canât tell me where you are. Iâll find you.âÂ
Emotion twists your throat. You grip the phone with a vice grip, looking up at him with wide eyes. His face is serious. He slips his phone in his pocket, turning back to do his job. âI will answer,â he promises. âIt doesnât matter when and where. I will answer that phone even if Iâm dying. Do you understand?âÂ
âYes.â
He nods. âGood.â
A knock on your door wakes you up from a dreamless sleep. Darkness spills across your room like ink as you slip from your bed, cursing when you kick the corner of your nightstand. With a raspy voice, you ask the automated room assistant to turn on the nightlights, a hazy purple immediately lighting the circumference of your room.
Squinting against the lavender glow, you pad over your room to open the door. Soonyoung is leaning heavily against the wall just beyond the threshold, his chin tucked to his chest and his hair sweaty and clinging to his temples.Â
He doesnât move when you open the door, the lilac light casting an eerie radiance on the side of his face. Itâs hard to make out his expression in the lurking shadow of the hallway, and he offers no explanation for why heâs knocking on your door at three in the morning.Â
âSoonyoung?â you whisper, eyes darting down the hall. No one else is around. âWhere are Cheol and Vernon?â
âSâcheol is still working. Vernon went to stay at Angelâs.â
âAre you - Soonyoung are you drunk? Or high?â
âYeah.âÂ
Both you realize. You can deal with both.Â
Grabbing him by the hand, you tug him gently. He pushes off the wall with heavy steps, stumbling through your open door and into the room. You grip him tighter, shutting your door with a gentle click before turning around to face him.Â
Soonyoung wonât look at you, turning his face away as he sways a little where he stands. Now that you can see him fully, you realize that there is blood on the collar of his shirt. Heart thudding, your hands reach for it, peeling it back to look at his neck. Specs of dry crimson flake from sweaty skin, making your terror reach new heights.Â
He shrugs you off. âNot mine.âÂ
âI - whatâs going on?âÂ
Instead of answering you, he walks a few crooked steps toward your bed and sits down on the edge. Licking your lips, you approach him slowly. Heâs slouched over, elbows pressed to his knees as his head hangs heavily. He still hasnât looked at you properly and youâre aching to see his eyes. You can always understand him better when you see his eyes, able to read the depth of emotions hiding beneath his mask.
When you reach him, you crouch down. Instead of grabbing for him again and risking him pulling away, you rest your hands on top of your knees. When afraid or upset, Soonyoung is like a cornered animal. You donât know whether heâs in fight or flight, both just as dangerous as the next.Â
âSoonyoung,â you say again gently. You watch his every move. âYouâre scaring me. Do you need me to call Cheol or Vernon?â
If Seungcheol is working the circuit, he isnât the best to call. Late night circuits include going from club to club under the Choi banner to monitor the drug trafficking and attend small business meetings as appropriate. Seungcheol will drop whatever heâs doing for you in a heartbeat, but itâs more complicated than that.Â
In theory, Vernon is easier to get a hold of. Heâs already off work and though he might not answer his phone if you call, you know his girlfriend will. Plus, the blood on Soonyoungâs shirt and skin can give you a guess at whatâs happened, and Vernon is more equipped for that type of thing than you are.Â
âLet me call Vernon-â
âNo,â he finally says. âNo. Sorry. I just.âÂ
Your chest squeezes in pain. Itâs like you can feel the torture radiating through him, feel the weight of whatever it is thatâs dragging him down yourself. Desperation drives you to reach out toward him slowly, watching for any sign of startling him. When he doesnât move to pull away, you touch him gently, squeezing his knee gently. âWhat do you need?âÂ
âMy dad always said I should feel something.â His words are halting, coming out slurred. You wait, holding your breath as he works through them. âAlways said that you should feel something when you kill someone. If you donât, it means youâre nothing more than a beast with base instincts. Not intelligent or refined.â
It takes everything in you not to let your grip turn to steel at his words. Instead, you rub your hand up and down his thigh soothingly, saying nothing. Soonyoung has never killed someone before. You would know if he had. Heâs the last in your immediate circle of friends beside yourself to take on the weight of stealing life, and youâve dreaded this day for a long time.Â
Murder is an inevitability in your family. Keeping the Choi Syndicate on top requires sacrifice, cruelty and cunning. Soonyoung had started serving as an officially ranked member of the Syndicate over a year ago, and though he had fucked up a lot of people and brought them to the brink of death, he hadnât actually done it yet.Â
âI felt nothing,â he whispers, voice thick. âFucking nothing.âÂ
âWhat do you mean?â
âThere was no guilt. I didnât even flinch. It was so easy, like fucking breathing. Thatâs not what my dad wanted me to be. He always said that those who felt nothing were just⌠baser creatures. That we were better because we were⌠made better.âÂ
âI think your dad wanted a lot of things. You being alive was the most important of those things, Soonyoung.âÂ
âIâm just tired of feeling fucking empty. I donât give a shit that I killed someone, Baby. Honestly? I was fucking looking forward to it. I thought maybe - just maybe - I would feel something, even if it was guilt or horror or satisfaction. There was nothing.âÂ
You have no idea what to say. Instead of words, you surge forward, letting go of Soonyoungâs knee to push yourself between his thighs, wrapping your arms around his middle. He flinches for a moment, arms hanging dead at his side as you press your cheek to his chest, squeezing.Â
Inside, you feel your heart crack open. You shove down the overwhelming sense of despair on his behalf, instead focused on him. Thereâs nothing to say with words, and you hope he can feel what youâre trying to tell him through touch, that he can feel everything you donât know how to say as you hold him tight, clinging to him.Â
Slowly, his arms encircle you. It takes him a moment, but he applies a little pressure back. It makes you scoot in more, pressed as close as you can get to him. He buries his face in your neck, his breaths warm and smelling like tequila. He smells like him too, vanilla and sandalwood.Â
âI donât feel like a person sometimes,â he whispers. âItâs like the ability for me to feel anything died forever ago. Like I killed it so that I didnât ever have to hurt again. Now I only ever feel when-â
He cuts himself off and sinks into you a little more. You bear his weight, willing to carry any burden for him. You donât think he realizes that he could ask you to jump and youâd say how high. Youâve always been willing to jump for him, always willing to do whatever he wants, whatever he needs.Â
Gently, you ask, âYou only ever feel when what? You can tell me if you want. Whatever you need.âÂ
âI feel when Iâm with you.â Soonyoung whispers it like itâs a secret he doesnât want you to hear. You feel the words hit your skin where he speaks them, a shiver slithering through you. His grip on you tightens a little with the admission, like now that heâs said it, he canât let go. Wonât. âI feel most like a person when Iâm with you.â
Pressing the flat of your hand to his back, you begin to stroke up and down slowly, touch following the careful ridges of his spine. He sighs, shivering in your hold. You want nothing more than to take the pain or whatever heâs feeling away, to rip it from him and to destroy it.Â
The fierceness of your love for him is hard to tamp down. A fiery admission of your feelings for him isnât what he needs right now. You know Soonyoung like the inside of your own soul, everything that makes him tick, every habit heâs picked up over the years. You can sense him standing lost at sea, needing an anchor. Needing you.Â
âOkay,â you say softly. âSo stay with me. Be a person with me.â
âIâm not made for you.â
âYes you are.â Your nails dig into his back through his shirt, pressing sharply. The desire to covet him is so intense it overtakes you. âIf I make you a person, then how could we be made for anyone but one another?âÂ
Silence greets your logic. You stay holding him like that, desperate to keep him there, terrified heâll shrug you off and get up. Heâs done it before, shucking off your affection like something to be disposed of. And still you give it to him freely, begging him to take it.Â
He doesnât shy away from you. Instead you feel him nod, mouth brushing tenderly across your throat in the ghost of a kiss. âIf I stay right now, you will never get me to leave. Do you understand? I wonât⌠I will be incapable of ever letting you go. Ever. Do you understand what Iâm saying?â
You hug him tighter. âTry to leave me at your own peril, Kwon Soonyoung.âÂ
âWhereâs your other half?â the voice causes you to turn from where you lean against the bar. Angel slides up next to you, cocking her head as she does. She looks like a wraith, dressed in a rain slicker over black long-sleeved shirt thatâs tucked into black pants. Her jacket and combat boots are wet, suggesting itâs still raining outside. âYouâre usually attached at the hip. My therapist calls that codependency. Says Hansol and I have it too.âÂ
âDoes your therapist also know youâre a murderer?â you mutter. The bartender slides drinks over to you and you nod in thanks. âOr that youâre only seeing her because Jeonghan made a bet with you? Or that your job often involves extortion? What does she think about that?âÂ
As a Rook of the Choi Syndicate, Angelâs job is a far cry from the holy nickname sheâs sported since she was a child. Like Vernon, her role within your fatherâs empire is to collect debts owed to the Choi family and to remind them never to fall behind on payments. Other times, sheâs simply used as a good tool to put the fear of god into enemies of the Choi family, and sheâs good at it.
Raised under the careful tutelage of the Yoon family, thereâs no weakness Angel canât find and use. The only one better at it than her is her step brother, who is probably sitting next to your brother behind closed doors somewhere in the Choi Estate holding a meeting.
As Seungcheolâs future second in command, itâs Jeonghanâs responsibility to learn the ropes just like your brother. One day, itâll be the two of them leading your family, a thought that makes you cringe with worry.Â
Angel answers your question with a shrug. âIâm sure she knows Iâm into some shit. Iâm learning all kinds of new things about myself.âÂ
âOh yeah? Like what?âÂ
âI donât like therapy. And I kind of want to ask my therapist why she thinks sheâs qualified for therapy when sheâs fucking three of her clients.â
A snort escapes you as you shake your head. Of course Angel knows that about her own therapist. Lifting the two drinks on the bar, you drift away from her, eyes flicking over the Rook. âStay out of trouble, Angel. And give Vernon my love.âÂ
She grins, wicked sharp and deadly. âNo bar fights, hmm? Enjoy the party.âÂ
The party in question is exhausting. Youâve been playing pretty princess all night, saying hello to all of the right people, shaking all of the jeweled hands, kissing all of the right asses. Youâre exhausted and the tension in your shoulder has been knotting further and further.Â
Once upon a time you would have been thankful to at least not be Seungcheol. He shouldered a lot more responsibility. Now youâve realized that you donât shoulder less than him - itâs just different. If Seungcheol is the sword and shield of the Syndicate, youâre the face and smile. Galas, charities, celebrity events - itâs a never ending stream of smile, pose, shake hands.Â
It doesnât hide the fact that you sit on a throne that belongs to a criminal empire, of course. But itâs also no secret that the Three Syndicates run the city. Your family has long been one of the stalwart backbones of the government and city infrastructure. Only the Kim family and the Yong family come close.Â
Still, appearances are everything. Especially when the Yong family owns most of the media outlets, weaponizing it against the Choi Syndicate every chance they get. You make it harder for them, using your appearances and platforms like a carefully wielded sword.Â
Spotting Soonyoung among those dressed in dark security uniforms is easy. He nearly blends in with the dark pipe and drape that has been set up all over the ballroom of your home, but you could find him anywhere, your internal compass pointing to him even in the dark.
Soonyoungâs eyes alight on you, sharp and intense. His face is a cool mask of indifference, but you can see the way interest sparks in his eyes as he drinks you in. Heâs already seen you in your dress tonight, but it doesnât stop him from refamiliarizing himself, eyes tracing every dip and curve.
God you wish you were somewhere else with him. Specifically wrapped in the gray sheets of his bed, sweat-slicked and out of breath.Â
âStop looking at me like that,â you say shyly, handing him a drink.
He takes it and looks up at you, arching a brow. âI canât drink this, Iâm working.âÂ
âItâs just soda with lime, the way you like it.âÂ
His lips twitch in a smile as he takes a sip, nodding in confirmation. He doesnât reach out to you and hold you close like you know he wants to, respecting the propriety of his position and the fact that he is on the clock right now.Â
âYou look tired,â he murmurs, eyes studying your face.Â
So does he. As an official Sword of the Choi family, his job keeps him out late, bloodied, and tired. Heâs completely changed from the man who sank into your arms that first night he killed someone, hardened into someone that your father sends to do just that often.Â
A weapon. A Sword. A trusted knife in the dark for the Choi family.
You think Soonyoung is more capable than being a heavy for your dad and his associates. Soonyoung is intelligent and sharp, having gained perspective and a wealth of knowledge from living with your family. Still, his dad had been the leader of the hired guns for the Choi Syndicate. Soonyoung is an efficient killer, his fate bound by his father long ago.
âWhen are you off tonight?â you ask instead of telling him how tired he looks.
âIâm not.â You frown. He sips his drink again and gives you a soft smile that doesnât reach his eyes. âItâs been busy. The Yong family are getting in our way at the docks. I gotta head down there with Vernon and Jeonghan after the party.âÂ
âThe Yongs are doing it outright?âÂ
âNo. Weâre pretty confident itâs them though. Jeonghan is working on it. If we can bring the Xu family under our wing, it would be a lot easier to push them out.âÂ
âThey have a son,â you note, thinking about the last event you attended where the Xu heir was in attendance. âMaybe marriage to one of our big hitters? Nexus Capital has an heiress.â
âIâll mention it to Jeonghan. Who the fuck would want an arranged marriage, though?â
âNot me,â you laugh, wiping the eyelash you spot on his cheek gently. He gives you a tired, albeit affectionate smile. âYouâve been working nonstop. Tell Seungcheol you need a night off.â
âWe both know itâs not Seungcheol working me to the bone, Baby.âÂ
Swallowing thickly, you turn away from him under the guise of scanning the crowd. You know you donât fool him. Both you and Soongyoung know your father does not approve of your relationship, taking it out on Soonyoung to keep him busy and away from you.Â
Your father would never hurt Soonyoung directly. You know that. He loves him like a son - sees his late best friend in the features of the man that Soonyoung has been shaped into under his care and tutelage. When you started dating Soonyoung seriously, you thought your parents might be happy. They adore him and they loved his parents just as much.Â
Soonyoung is below your station, though.Â
Your father will never say it outright. He wouldnât insult his late friendâs son that way. But the way your father works Soonyoung harder than anyone else, holding him to a standard he doesnât even keep for his highest level of men, you realize how deep the dissatisfaction goes. Even your motherâs adoration of Soonyoung does little to shield him from the petty assignments, try as she might.Â
Still, you donât care. And at the end of the day, neither does Soonyoung. As long as he gets to have you, heâs willing to put up with the petty assignments and the working late.Â
âHey,â Soonyoung says gently, bringing your attention back to him. He finishes his drink and sets it on a banquet table nearby. His eyes are averted, looking somewhere across the room as his hand slips around your waist to squeeze you quickly and press a kiss to your temple. âIâve got to go - Iâve got a meeting with Vernon before we head out tonight. Iâll see you when Iâm done. Probably wonât be until late morning.âÂ
âAlright,â You sigh. His hand slips from your waist and you wish you could pull him back to you. âLove you.âÂ
He grins brightly, giving you a wink before he melts into the crowd, weaving around party goers. Your heart squeezes when you lose sight of him.Â
Someone clearing their throat catches your attention. You spin around to see Lan, one of your fatherâs personal Swords nodding politely at you. âYour father wishes to see you in the West Parlor. Iâm to escort you.â
âOh. Sure.â You set your drink down on the banquet table, wiping your damp hands on your dress. âLead the way.âÂ
People bow their heads in respect as you go. You keep an even pace with Lan, which is hard to do with his long strides and your strappy heels digging into your ankles. He slows for your benefit and you give him a grateful smile, the swelling noise from the party leaving you behind as you step out of the ballroom and walk toward the west wing of the house.Â
Some people mill about the halls of the estate. You can spot the members of the Syndicate who are on duty, mostly Swords that belong to the security force employed under the Choi family. You spot Chan leaning against a wall while gesturing broadly with his hands as he speaks to the owner of a new club on the edge of the Pearl District. When he catches your stare, Chan winks before focusing his attention back on the owner. Probably trying to work out some sort of deal or partnership, as is his job.Â
The west wing of the house is quiet and off limits to the rest of the party. Your bedroom is just up two flights of stairs, your bed calling your name as you pass under the stairwell into the hallway that belongs to the West Parlor, the library, the study and your fatherâs billiards room.Â
Old Man Vero is standing outside your fathers study, his hands linked in front of him and his head straight forward. He glances your way as Lan leans you toward the door, cracking a bit of a smile on his leathery face and giving you a wink. You grin, lightly reaching out and touching his elbow as Lan opens the door for you. Your fatherâs Swords have been in your life since you were a child, permanent figures of fixed loyalty and familiarity.Â
They love you like they love your father, like they love your brother. It isnât pure fear and power that keeps the Choi Syndicate together. Your father has plenty of that among the ranks, but the loyalty and love between him and his higher ranking members is real. Critical. It was a skill he taught you and Seungcheol, both of you arming yourself with your own shield of friends and confidants.Â
Your father sits in a leather armchair, leaned back with his eyes closed. Next to him, a cigar smokes in the ashtray, threatening to go out as the thin wisps of smoke vanish into the air. An old fashioned record player echoes in the far corner of the room, smoothe notes vibrating through the air.Â
âTower,â you greet him formally, bowing at the waist. âHow can I be of service to the family?âÂ
His eyes flutter open and he looks at you tiredly. He looks so much like your brother that itâs uncanny, sometimes. But his youth has worn off, his age more and more evident these days as he spreads himself thin expanding the Choi empire. Your mother has asked him - begged him - to give more responsibility to Seungcheol, but he refuses.
At least you know where your stubborn streak comes from.Â
âSo formal,â he notes, his lips twitching upward. He gestured for you to sit in one of the arm chairs. You do, smoothing your dress carefully as you sit. Behind you, Lan exits the room, the soft click of the door behind you. âYou were always a better student than your brother.â
âThatâs because heâs a man.â
A hearty laugh makes you grin, feeling a flutter of fondness. He was never an overly affectionate father, but heâs always been kind, though firm. You respect him, which is saying something in your world.
âSpoken like an intelligent woman,â he sighs. You wait patiently, watching as he seems to gather his words. Your stomach knots, sensing a trepidation about him that youâre not used to. âYour intelligence has always been your best asset, though youâre a little hot-headed like your brother.âÂ
âSteadfast is the mountain,â you say, quoting the Choi family motto.
He grins and adds your motherâs family moniker, âBut the fire does burn. I knew marrying your mother was a good choice. Marrying the right person is paramount in this life. Family unions can make or break an empire, and they forge old alliances anew or secure new alliances.âÂ
A prickle down your spine makes you sit straighter. You had implied as much earlier to Soonyoung about the Xu family, knowing marriage was a viable option to bring the shipping mogul into the Choi empire. Now, though, the notion has you on edge, watching him like a frightened cat.
âI didnât pick your mother, you know,â he muses, his eyes unfocusing somewhere far away. âBut when my father recommended her, I knew he was right. I was familiar with her, of course. We went to school together. Fought like cats, but she was so intelligent and fierce.âÂ
Youâve heard this story before. Your father hadnât loved her to start, but your mother had loved him right away. Had always known that she loved him. Sheâd shown up at one of his billiard nights and told him exactly how she felt, asserting that they would be married and that he would be loyal to her.Â
Heâd fallen in love with her that night.Â
He sighs heavily. âI see a lot of your mother in you.â
âDonât let her hear you sound so disappointed. She might be offended.â
âSheâs better than me,â he says. His eyes focus on you, flicking back to appraise you. Sweat slicks on your back and only years of training keep you from not fidgeting under his weighty gaze. âBut it would be easier sometimes if you were more like me. Less fire, more mountain. Still, you are rational, so let us speak plainly: you are going to marry the Kim family heir.âÂ
Silence hangs in the air. You stare at him, your brain taking a moment to catch up with his words. Itâs like youâre moving in slow motion, processing the firmness in his voice, the way he looks at you with heavy countenance.Â
You are going to marry the Kim family heir.
A high-pitched ringing starts in your ears and you feel the buzz of panic start to tingle at the base of your spine. Your fingers dig into the arms of your chair a little, trying to fight the staccato rhythm of your heart from getting out of control.Â
âWhat?â you ask. It feels dumb, compared to the eloquence youâre capable of.Â
âKim Yijun is a perfect match,â he says simply. âHeâs in line to inherit the Kim Syndicate. There is tension with the Yong family, and I will not lie to you: they have a far larger reach than we would like. They donât do things the old way like the Choi and Kim families. They have started to ally themselves with the Arash family in Veridian, giving them cuts and room in our city to spread their reach outside the bounds of their own city.âÂ
âI donât understand.â
âThe Kim and Choi families have been united before. Theyâve always been our first ally in times of city upheaval and Syndicate war, and they, like us, donât believe in letting outsiders have a seat at the table. The Yong family donât understand that, and are willing to let vermin have scraps if it means scooting us out.â
âIâm-â you shake your head. âYou canât ask that of me.â
âIâm not asking.â He reaches for a lighter and picks up the cigar. He takes a moment to relight it, taking his focus off of you. You feel your pulse spiking, your grip on the chair like iron. âI am telling you that this is what your future will be. I understand you like the Kwon boy, but-â
You sneer, baring your teeth. âThe Kwon boy? Donât reduce him to some stranger. Soonyoung grew up in this house, he is family. And I donât just like him, I love him. Donât think I havenât noticed you bullying him because youâre frustrated that I love him. You love him too.âÂ
âI do. I love him like my own. But he is not for you.â
âHe is. I will not marry Yijun. I am asking you not as a member of this Syndicate, but as your daughter to drop this machination from your plans. I am your blood, you cannot ask this of me.â
âI told you, I am not asking. I am telling you.âÂ
A tremor starts in your hands. Your heart races so fast that you feel sick, sweat slicking your skin as you begin to pant sharply. The ringing in your ears grows until you feel disconnected to it, like suddenly youâre living in third person. Youâre aware that youâre hyperventilating and yet, suddenly itâs separate from you.
Standing abruptly, you feel the world tilt. You take a second to steady yourself, feeling the numb tingle spread throughout you like a flood.Â
âSit down,â your father demands. You hear the warning. Recognize the firmness in it. This is the Tower of the Choi Syndicate speaking, not your father.Â
âTake this as my resignation from the family,â you tell him. Your voice doesnât feel like your own, steady and without inflection. âIâll renounce my inheritance and will not use the Choi family for any connection or advantages-â
âYou will not!âÂ
His voice startles you. Lures you away from the safety of your detachment. You look at him, eyes wide and shaking. His hand is fisted on the armchair, his rage crackling around him like a thunderstorm. âI will not have my only daughter sabotage everything this family has built for the affection of someone unfit for her station. Kwon Soonyoung is a weapon meant to serve you. You will marry Kim Yijun or I will remove the obstacle altogether.âÂ
Your entire life there have been two versions of your father. The stoic leader of one of the oldest criminal empires in Hyperion, the vicious man who could be cold and calculating, and who was reverently feared by his enemies. The kind father who watched you and Seungcheol study math together, carefully explaining to you how to carry numbers over in the equation.Â
It is the former who sits before you now. Someone entirely unfamiliar to you, though youâve always known he existed. And why would you? Your father has never had to be ruthless with you before, hiding the way he could cut from you until it was necessary.Â
Soonyoung knew. You know it with absolute clarity. You remember the fear in his eyes when you had slipped into his room that night asking for a kiss, the way that he is always so careful about when and where he touches you, the way he takes the assignments and the mistreatment without so much as a protest because it means he gets to have you.
âYou would kill him?â you whisper, looking your father in the eye. âYou promised to take him in when his family was murdered. He had no one, and you promised his father youâd raise him as your own. You would go back on that?âÂ
He scowls. âIf his father knew what he was, heâd kill Soonyoung himself. That boy is a dog to be set upon whoever his owner wishes, who kills with impunity.â You say nothing. I donât feel like a person. Soonyoungâs words echo in your mind, haunting. âI hold the collar and I will put him down, if need be.âÂ
âSo you raised a pet to be disposed of at your convenience?â
âI raised a boy who should be grateful I havenât put him in the fucking ground for sullying my only daughter. I let you two have time, and you should be grateful. It is my love for him that has stayed my hand this long. No more. You will marry Kim Yijun, or you will bury that boy. This is the command of your Tower.â
âMother will not let you-â
âYour mother doesnât let me do anything. I am the Tower of this family, and it does what I command. You will fall in line.âÂ
Tears spill from your eyes. You suddenly feel like youâre standing on a cliff, the vertigo of nothingness at the bottom making you sick with fear. Desperation grips at you as you stare at your father, willing him to change his mind. Begging him.Â
His pity doesnât come. There is only resolute silence, watching as you crumple in front of him, knees going weak as you abruptly sit - fall - on the floor. You bury your face in your hands, grief for something lost stealing your ability to maintain control before youâve even given an answer.Â
Iâm not made for you.Â
Soonyoung had tried to tell you a long time ago and youâd brushed him off. Of course he was made for you. He was all youâve ever wanted, and youâve always been given what you wanted. You made him whole, and he you. How could you not be made for one another.Â
âPlease donât do this to me. Daddy,â you whisper, trying to appeal to him with the little girl he loves. âPlease, I love him.âÂ
âLan will escort you to your room.â You ignore his words, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, willing the tears to stop. You know later youâll feel pathetic for the display of emotion, for the meltdown in the face of adversity. âYou will announce your engagement at the end of the week.â
âYes, Tower.â
âIf you so much as remotely try to sneak around with him, I will put him in the ground and bear the weight of that grief for eternity.âÂ
âYes, Tower.â
âKnow that I love you. We must make sacrifices for this family we wish not to. But you will make the sacrifice like I have so many times before. So will Soonyoung.âÂ
You stand, limbs shaky as you look at your father, the heat of your motherâs rage fueling your gaze. âYes, Tower.â
Sleep claws at you with greedy fingers, unwilling to give you up to the waking light of day. You groan, suspended in that moment of almost awake but achingly unaware. A brush of warm skin on your arm pulls you the rest of the way from heavy sleep, your thoughts sticky as they formulate and you open your eyes, squinting in the gray light of your room.Â
Squinting at the clock displayed on your nightstand, you realize itâs late morning. The tinted windows of your room keep out the sunlight, but a single panel has been adjusted to let some of the cloudy day in, a single shaft of gray spilling into your room like muddy water.Â
Warmth presses behind your back, the steady touch on your arm trailing up and down. For a second, you lean back into it, feeling your head thud against Soonyoungâs chest, his mouth pressing against the crown of your head. He drags his fingers up and down your arm absently, light as a feather. He smells like soap, a hint of his familiar vanilla and sandalwood.Â
âHave trouble sleeping?â the words are mumbled against you.Â
âHmm?â
âThereâs lines of crushed knockout on your nightstand, Baby.âÂ
You look at the nightstand. Sure enough, the white pills you crushed are dusted across the surface. The reality of why you used them slams into you so suddenly that you stiffen, muscles locking.
Soonyoung notices immediately, his touch stilling. âWhat?â
Finding the words is impossible. You donât know where to start, your fatherâs words make you dizzy. The sheets stick to your skin, Soonyoungâs warmth too hot to stand. You scramble from bed, kicking at the sheets and putting distance between you as you bolt toward the bathroom.Â
âHey,â he calls after you. You donât turn to look at him, the cool tile giving you goosebump as the lights flicker on. You close the door behind you firmly, pressing your back against it. Soonyoungâs knocks are immediate, his voice calling your name on the other side. âWhatâs wrong?âÂ
The use of your name sours your stomach. You lurch forward, diving for the toilet as the contents of your stomach empty. The bile burns, your eyes watering as you press against the cold porcelain, clinging to it for life.Â
Soonyoung opens the door, letting himself in as you heave again. Heâs quick to react, opening the medicine cabinet to remove an anti-nausea inhalent. He wordlessly pads over to you, crouching down to extend it toward you.Â
You avoid looking at him directly in the eye as you snatch it from him. His brows are pinched in concern, face swollen with what little sleep he got and mouth turned downward. Your stomach roils again but holds as you crack the inhalent and wave it under your nose, breathing in gently.Â
The stimulant makes your eyes water, but immediately the churning in your stomach subsides. You close your eyes for a moment, breathing in and out slowly, trying to regulate yourself. Soonyoung watches in silence, his hands opening and closing at his sides like he wants to reach out and touch you but doesnât.Â
When you open your eyes, there is so much love and concern on his face that you almost break right then and there. Instead, you clear your throat and straighten, tossing the medication in the trash.
âThanks, just hungover. I need to shower.â
He looks doubtful. âAlright.â
Soonyoung stands, heading to the shower. You clear your throat and he pauses, glancing at you over his shoulder. âAlone, please.âÂ
âWhatâs wrong?â
âNothing, I just want to shower.âÂ
He says your name again. Not Baby. Not any other derivative. Your name. âYou can talk to me.â
Your heart cracks. You panic. Your brain races for the only viable option. âI just want to take a fucking shower, Soonyoung.â You push yourself off the ground, scowling at him. He moves out of your way as you pass him, stunned to silence. âI donât need you crowding my space every five seconds.âÂ
Refusing to look at him as you hit the panel in the wall, you instead focus on the water that falls from the ceiling, a storm of heat and the smell of peppermint. You keep your back turned toward him, staring at the water as it heats, steam curling in tendrils where it hits the stone tiles.Â
âYou can go,â you say sharply.Â
âAlright.âÂ
The gentle click of the door when he leaves is barely audible over the hum of the shower. You let the rushing water lull you into a state of numbness, peeling your clothes off with unsteady, mechanical movements.Â
Hot water slicks off your shoulders. You close your eyes and hang your head, letting the feel of the peppering water sluice over your ears, eyes, nose, mouth. You let it blind your senses to nothing but the roar of water, blotting out everything else.Â
If I stay right now, you will never get me to leave.Â
You remember when Soonyoung whispered it against your skin just a few years ago, spoken carefully and clearly, a promise and a warning. He would never let you go. You had to let him go. Telling him what your father has asked of you - has threatened to take away from you - will only make Soonyoungâs feet dig in further.
For as long as youâve known him, Soonyoung has been a covetous creature. You remember the night at the club he antagonized you just to see that spark of want, just to prove to himself it was him you wanted. You remember the way he clung to you in the dark of your bedroom, the only person who could ever make him whole. Who could make him feel.Â
Your father sees Soonyoung as a loyal attack dog - but it isnât the Tower of the Choi Syndicate who holds Soonyoungâs collar. It never has been. Soonyoung has never asked your father how high.Â
Pressing your palms to your eyes, you start deep breathing exercises. In through your nose, out through your mouth. The shaking in your fingers begins to subside, the logic part of your brain turning on.Â
The threat on Soonyoungâs life is real. You saw the resolve in your fatherâs eye, the painful glint. He would hate to do it, but he would do it. Youâre entwined too deep into your familyâs affairs and business to vanish. There is nothing in the world you have thatâs your own, no assets that are not connected to them in some way.
And if you tell Soonyoung, heâll face the problem like he does everything that stands in his way: try to kill it.Â
For a split moment, your brain chases the thought like a mouse after cheese. Like a long math problem, you work out if itâs possible to commit patricide and get away with it. Your mother will never forgive you, but Seungcheol might. Your friends would - theyâre loyal to you, especially Jeonghan and Angel.Â
The older generation, though-Â
You toss aside the thought almost as quickly as you thought of it - not because you donât want to kill your father, but because it isnât possible. Not just like that. There are too many pieces on the chessboard, too many domino effects spreading out in every direction if you take that route.
No. There is only a single path for you, set in motion by a hand with more power than you.Â
And thereâs only one way you can move forward with Soonyoung.Â
Thereâs so much of your motherâs side of the family youâve inherited. Her side has always been associated with the phoenix, the burning immortality of their name and their strength, a blazing glory. Your maternal relatives have always been the rage and the fire that was needed for a Syndicate to advance, a good partnership for the Choiâs who were cold and steadfast.Â
What you need now is the winter of the mountain, not the rage of the phoenix. You need to be a Choi.Â
Steadfast is the mountain.Â
You love Soonyoung. You love him you love him you love him youlovehimyoulovehimyoulovehimYOULOVEHIMYOULOVEHIM-Â
Pressing your fist to your mouth, you bite down for one, blinding moment of untapped rage. You feel your skin break, taste iron and salt, feel pain bloom.Â
Steadfast is the mountain.Â
Then itâs gone. You drop your hand from your mouth. Open your eyes. Turn off the shower. The rage is gone, buried beneath a layer of newly formed ice. If there is anyone you can do this for, itâs Soonyoung. You love him. You will destroy him. But heâll be alive.Â
Soonyoung is sitting on your bed when you open the door. Heâs got a tablet in his hand, the holographic images displaying above the screen, haloing his face in blue light. There are circles under his eyes and his teeth worry at his bottom lip, which is chapped. Heâs shirtless, the compact planes of his body half shadowed by the single shaft of light filtering through a window.Â
He looks up at you but you ignore him, heading to your closet. The silence is brutal. You push through it, opening the closet doors to reveal a massive space nearly the same size of your bathroom. Track lights kick on, rows and rows of clothes by color greeting you. In the middle, there is an island counter, filled with drawers and biolocked jewelry safes.Â
Soft steps tell you Soonyoung is standing at the entrance of the closet. You still donât face him, walking over to your section of black clothes. You flick through them, eyes scanning. Black seems appropriate. It feels like death, afterall.Â
Soonyoungâs voice is soft as his late night kisses. âWhatâs going on?âÂ
âIâm marrying Kim Yijun.âÂ
A beat passes. Then another.Â
âIs that supposed to be a joke? Iâm not interested in pranks this morning.â
âItâs not a prank.â You pull out a black, silk dress. âThe Tower has asked this of me, and Iâll be doing it.âÂ
âWhat the fuck are you talking about?â
You continue, undeterred as you put the dress back and keep looking. âThe Kim family has agreed to the match ahead of the rising tensions with the Yong Syndicate and their new take on foreign allies. A united front of the old families will benefit our family-â
âYouâre not fucking marrying Kim Yijun.âÂ
âAll of the metrics weâve run for public opinion and potential city-wide reaction are favorable. The Tower needs his children to fall in line, and I intend to do so.â
Soonyoung storms toward you. You turn on your heel, holding a finger out to him, voice severe, âDonât come near me.âÂ
âWhy? Because you know youâll lose your resolve? Because the second I touch you, youâll drop whatever bravado this is and let me help you?â
Exactly that. He knows you inside and out. Sees through the front. It doesnât matter. You donât need him to believe you, you need him to obey.Â
He takes another step and you back up. âI will scream,â you threaten, venom in your voice. âI will scream and Seungcheol and Vernon are right down the hall. Whose side do you think theyâll take, with your reputation for violence?âÂ
âFuck you, they know Iâd never hurt you.â
You hear the waver in his voice. That tiny sliver of doubt, so small and tiny but there. They do know he would never hurt you, but Soonyoung isnât convinced theyâd believe him. It makes you sick, but you latch onto it, unspooling that tiny bit of hurt. âDo they, Soonyoung? I hear some of them call you a mad dog because you attack with no regard for anything. Do you really think they trust you entirely with me?â
Soonyoung is raging. His chest rising and falling, shaking his head back and forth as he tries to understand. Youâre rooted to the spot, muscles coiled, pulse thudding in your throat. âYou are not,â he growls. âMarrying Kim Yijun. You donât even want to, donât try to lie to me about your feelings or insult me thinking you can bait me. You love me. You are mine.âÂ
âI belong to the Choi family and itâs what my family needs from me. I will do my duty.â
âFuck your family!â His roar makes you flinch, briefly closing your eyes. His palm slams on the top of the countertop in front of him, sharp in the silence. âYou have a duty to me. I told you I would not fucking let you go. Youâre not doing it. Iâll fucking kill him, you think I wonât? Iâll murder every last one of them-âÂ
âYou donât tell me what to do, Kwon Soonyoung. I will do this, and you will obey.â He bristles, going rigid as your words land like a slap. âWhen I say jump, you say how high. Youâve always known that.âÂ
For a second, he cracks. The Soonyoung you first saw on your doorstep, crying and round-cheeked and ruddy returns. His lip trembles and the way he looks at you nearly melts your iron will. Youâre so close to collapsing, to laying it out before him, to risking it all.Â
âDonât do this to me.â His whisper is made of glass. Delicate. He presses his palm to his chest, right over his heart. Earnest. âI canât - you know I canât. I- please. I canât do this.âÂ
Licking your lips, you look him in the eyes. His eyes are your favorite. Dark. Stormy. Endless. They are lined with silver, panic rippling across the surface.Â
You lift your chin and push back your shoulders. âYou can and you will, because I told you to jump, Soonyoung. Now ask how high.âÂ
Sunlight warms the back of your neck, humidity clinging to your skin like a second layer. You take a deep breath, though the steamy air offers no relief. You snap open a silk fan, waving it in front of your face in hopes of chasing away some of the sweat, feeling the separation between skin and makeup the longer you sit in the wretched heat of the garden.Â
Itâs not even real sunlight or heat. You canât tell beyond the projection in the room, but you know that there are vents heating up the room and controls that make the air humid and sticky, making it feel like youâre sitting in a real garden outside somewhere lush.Â
Lin drones on and on about something. You tuned her out long ago, eyes flickering back and forth to your watch and the womenâs faces around you. None of them here are really your friend - not in the way Angel is, the way Wonwoo or Jeonghan are.Â
Yet youâre expected to be here, entertaining the upper echelon wives of the Choi and Kim Syndicates, boiling away in an imaginary garden while you sweat to death, dress clinging to your skin and thighs slippery in the seat as you adjust yourself, uncomfortable.Â
âItâs hot as a motherfucker,â a whispered voice comes from next to you. You look up to see the newly engaged heiress of Nexus Capital next to you, glaring behind the dark shade of her sunglasses as Lin continues rambling about something. âCouldnât she have made it less real?â
A smirk twitches on your lips. You havenât spoken to her much, but her recent engagement to Xu Minghao had secured the position the Choi Syndicate had been fighting for in the shipping yards and docks with the Yong family, elevating her family into the favored circle of your father.
Suddenly, you remember who had recommended that marriage in the first place. You remember the party, the pretty dress you wore, Soonyoungâs hand briefly on your waist as he kissed you goodbye for a meeting. You had no idea then that your throwaway comment about an arranged marriage to benefit your family would become your own nightmare under an hour later.
Grief is a funny thing. You never knew that you could feel grief for someone who isnât dead, yet sometimes you feel such an overwhelming amount of grief at the hole that Soonyoung has left behind that you canât breathe.Â
Throat dry, you reach for water, drinking eagerly. You feel a bead of water run down your face, but you ignore it in favor of trying to focus on not panicking.Â
Anxiety attacks are new for you. Though your entire life has been colored with stressful situations unique to growing up in a criminal Syndicate, you could never say that you were anxious before. At least not in the way that made the back of your neck too hot and the tips of your fingers buzz with the threat of a looming meltdown.Â
You ignore it. Itâs all you know how to do. The anxiety medication your therapist gave you doesn't work, and you canât crush a bunch of pills and inhale them anytime you feel like youâre about to get tunnel vision and spiral.Â
Well, you suppose you can, but youâre trying not to get into the habit.Â
Instead of acknowledging the way the panic lurks around your edges like a predator waiting to pounce, you listen to the dull conversation around you. Focus on the gossip that you donât care about, exactly, but know itâs good to have.Â
Since marrying into the Kim family, youâre not sure what your job is. With your family, your role as the face, the legacy and the representation of the Choi Syndicate had always been clear and obvious. Now, your husband sends you to stupid things like this with preening people that you donât like and makes you leave events early when heâs irritable.Â
Gossip is a weapon, though. So you gather it when you can, taking in bits of information and storing it for yourself. Rarely do you offer it to Yijun - not that he would take it - but Jeonghan finds the information you share useful. So does Angel, but thereâs rarely anything you know that she doesnât.Â
Just as your anxiety begins to fade, the source of it materializes.Â
At first, you think youâre seeing things when a door appears in the wall depicting an apple orchard and Soonyoung strolls out into the fake-sun. You blink dumbly, spine tingling as you realize that your mind is not playing tricks on you and it is him.Â
He sees you immediately. His dark eyes burn like embers, pinning you to the spot. His face remains motionless but you see his jaw tick, the only sign that he is immediately on edge when he sees you. Heâs dressed for work in an all black suit, required for the Swords of the Choi family.Â
Giggles breakout around the table as he approaches, the ladies around you all flushed cheeks and demure smiles. You feel the buzzing start in your hands again, this time worse. It goes up your arms, working its way to your chest as the anxiety increases tenfold, heart pounding.
Soonyoung bows. âI beg your pardon, ladies.âÂ
âMy goodness, Soonyoung,â Lin preens. âYou must be horribly hot in that suit, but you do look handsome.â
You fight the urge to snarl at her that the imitation of the garden isnât real and no amount of pretending will make it real. You even imagine reaching across the table and plunging her fish knife into her hand. Instead, you watch Soonyoung, your hummingbird heart fluttering.Â
He gives her a polite smile that doesnât reach his eyes. âIâll be alright. I apologize for interrupting, but the Tower of the Choi family has sent me to escort his daughter home.âÂ
âHome?âÂ
âThe Choi Estate.âÂ
He doesnât say what he means: the Kim Estate is not your home.Â
âAlright,â you say, voice reedy. Your hands are trembling as you slide your chair from the table, the metal legs grinding loudly against concrete. You flinch at the sound, hyper aware of every bead of sweat crawling down your spine, every beat of your heart that is too fast, too hard.
Static fills you as you mumble parting words to the women who watch you in confusion. At least, you think you mumble your goodbyes. Blood rushes in your ears as you take uneven steps toward Soonyoung, who turns on his heel and starts marching toward the apple orchard.Â
It feels like youâre in an echo chamber. Everything suddenly feels hollow and everything sounds as though youâre hearing it through a thin wall. Muted. Dull. He opens the door that you canât quite spot even this close, ushering you inside as your vision starts tunneling to a narrow point, everything else blurry and distorted.Â
No. No no no no no.Â
Lifting your hands, you glance down at them to see them trembling, opening and closing your fists in an attempt to stop the buzzing feeling, as though you could will it away. You think Soonyoung says something but you canât hear him over the roar of panic that grips you and tears you sideways.
Instead of following him down the hall, you lurch toward a different hall, rushing toward the powder room. It feels like the walls are narrowing as you throw open the door, breath coming out in pants. Everything feels tight and compact, crushing smaller still.Â
Stumbling to the sink you try to turn the faucet on. Once. Twice. Cold water spits from the faucet and you gasp, leaning down over the sink to splash freezing water into your face. It doesnât have the desired effect, the water is not cool enough to shock you out of your panic.Â
Soonyoung speaks behind you. You canât hear him, the grip of your anxiety so strong that you grab the edges of the sink to keep you up right. Youâre heaving now, heart rattling so hard you think that maybe youâre having a heart attack instead.Â
A firm grip wretches your attention from the porcelain sink to the mirror, where you see your dripping reflection, eyes blown like saucers. Soonyoung is standing behind you, a hand on your bicep, squeezing. His face is no longer a mask of indifference, but one of confusion.Â
His mouth moves and you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut. âI canât,â you gasp, ragged. âI donât understand what youâre saying.âÂ
Then, he does something that catches you entirely off guard. You watch in slow motion as he steps back and removes the gun from the holster underneath his suit jacket. You hear the safety on the gun click and the hum as the weapon charges, ready to fire rounds of plasma if he squeezes the trigger.Â
And then he points the gun at your head, the lights on it flipping from blue to red, signaling itâs ready to kill.Â
The world stops. The panic vanishes for a split second, replaced with utter shock as you stare at him in the mirror.Â
âWhat the fuck are you doing?â you demand, voice stronger than you expect.Â
Soonyoung is ten levels of crazy, but heâs never pointed a gun at you before. You stare at him, open-mouthed and wondering if heâll do it. If he could pull the trigger. Heâd told you a hundred times when you were together that he would never let you go and it was always with clarity that you understood what he meant: itâs me or no one.Â
With stark clarity, you realize thereâs no reason for Soonyoung not to pull the trigger. He doesnât care much about the value of his own life from what you can glean over the last two years, and he doesnât really seem to care about yours.Â
Not that he should. You promised to make him feel human and you did. Then you took it away from him, leaving him adrift in a vast ocean of nothing alone and untethered.Â
No, you donât think you inspire Soonyoung to feel human anymore. If anything, you probably make him want to be the worst version of himself.Â
Soonyoungâs voice holds no emotion when he asks, âAre you with me?â
âWhy are you pointing a gun at me?âÂ
âBreathe,â he says instead. He doesnât lower the weapon, stormy eyes focused on yours. âBreathe,â he repeats. âSlowly, maybe.âÂ
âSoonyoung, you are holding a gun at me, what do you mean breathe?âÂ
âWhat do you mean what do I mean? I mean what I fucking said. Breathe normally.â
âLower the gun!â He does. âWhat the fuck?â
He breaks eye contact, sliding the weapon back into his suit jacket. He turns away from you as though he didnât have you at gunpoint a second ago. âYou were having a panic attack. Sometimes a shock to the system stalls it. Your breathing has slowed down now. And youâre not panicking.âÂ
A beat of silence passes. Then, âSo you leveled a gun at my head?âÂ
âIt worked. Letâs go.â
âAre you fucking crazy?â
âYes. Now letâs go. Youâre needed at the Choi Estate.â
âWhy?âÂ
âDo I look like I have all the answers? I just do what Iâm told. When a Choi says jump, remember?â
You visibly flinch as his words land. Soonyoung doesnât wait for you to gather yourself, spinning on his heel and exiting the powder room to stride through the halls. Tightness gathers in your chest, left over from your anxiety attack.Â
Pressing your hands against your dress to wipe the sweat from them, you chase after Soonyoung. Heâs already by the apartmentâs elevator, jamming his finger into the button. He doesnât look at you as he waits, content to stare at the metal door.Â
You donât know where else to look - you want to look anywhere but him. Turning around, you fixate on the floor to ceiling windows. Itâs still morning outside, but itâs hard to tell with the way the clouds block out the view, turning everything to mist.Â
This high up in the city is reserved for the elite. You canât imagine why - thereâs nothing to look at but clouds, clouds, and more clouds. Itâs what makes them have virtual reality rooms in the first place, trying to recreate the experience that they might have if they were wealthy enough to own land.Â
The sound of the elevator arriving makes you flinch. Soonyoung ignores you, getting in and leaning against the wall as he hits a button to go to the parking garage. You scramble in after him, a little breathless as the doors close just behind you.Â
Immediately you start shooting down several floors. He glares at the wall, unseeing and unfeeling. You swallow thickly, watching the numbers decrease until youâre at Linâs private parking garage. Soonyoung is out of the elevator before it finishes opening all the way, storming toward the car heâs left running idle.Â
Normally someone would open a car door for you. Instead, Soonyoung gets in the driverâs seat and slams the door shut. You reach for the handle of the passenger seat and pause. Normally you sit in the back when being driven somewhere, itâs always been like that. But this is Soonyoung and youâve always been beside him in the car, his equal.Â
A muffled get in the fucking car reaches you. Deciding that sitting next to him is too personal, you open the back seat and slide in. Youâve barely shut the door when he punches the gas, slamming you into the back of the seat as he goes.Â
âWould you stop being an asshole?â you seethe, ripping the seatbelt from next to you to buckle in. Your hands are still shaking and it takes a moment for the clasp to click.
Instead of answering, you hear the way the car accelerates under his foot. Scowling, you look out the window. He speeds into the lift that brings the car down to the ground floor. Lights blur by as the lift drops at lurching speed, your stomach in your throat. You hate coming to apartments for this reason, the feeling of having to freefall to leave never growing on you.Â
Itâs raining when the lift opens to the wet street. Soonyoung peels out on the pavement, tires spinning until they gain traction and the car slides onto the road, narrowly missing someone. You slam against the seatbelt, cursing and clinging onto the door as he pushes the gas down, engine roaring.
âAre you trying to kill us?â
Soonyoung doesnât answer you. You think it might be because heâs not explicitly trying to kill the two of you, but he doesnât care if he does. You try not to think about it so much as he powers through the streets of the Upper City, driving past towering businesses, luxury districts with entertainment and bars and apartment buildings.Â
The road starts to incline and you hit a line of trees. The city vanishes behind you as Soonyoung drives the car up the winding road, leaving a world of metal and lights for greenery and earth. The contrast between the cities below and the Estates above is stark, especially as he driveâs higher up the mountain, snatches of the city below visible.Â
âWhy did you come to get me?â you ask, flicking your gaze to the rearview mirror to watch him. Soonyoung keeps his eyes on the road, but you see his mouth tighten. âLast I checked youâre not an errand boy.â
âSo what, you check on me?â
âItâs a figure of speech, you know what I mean.â
âThe Tower personally requested I come get you.âÂ
That gives you pause. Soonyoungâs face reveals nothing as he turns on the street that will inevitably lead to the massive metal wall that blocks off the world from the Choi Estate. There can only be a single reason why Soonyoung was sent to fetch you when usually your husbandâs staff would do so.
âWhatâs happened?âÂ
Soonyoung doesnât answer your question. Instead, he rolls the window down at the guard house to show his face. The security team recognizes him immediately, waving him through as the gate begins to slide open to reveal lush, green jungle.Â
Gravel crunches underneath the car tires as he drives through the winding foliage on Choi grounds. Your great-great-grandfather had built the Choi compound, the first of the few elite houses on the mountain. He thought it was important to keep the plant life and sprawling greenery to conserve, but you knew it was really about power. Symbolism. Greenery didnât really exist in the city, and this much space and plantlife meant wealth.Â
The sprawling estate you grew up in reveals itself. Multiple buildings dot the property, making it more a family compound than an estate. Now that Seungcheol is old enough, heâs moved out of the main house and into one of the smaller homes, occupying the space with his own men and staff. Still, heâs just a brief stroll away from your childhood home.
Home. Even two years under a Kim family banner hasnât erased the feeling of home for you. There is nothing in the house you share with Yijun that makes it feel like you. It is as devoid of love as your marriage, merely a placeholder for you to sleep, eat, and occasionally, try to produce an heir.Â
Soonyoung pulls up to the long building that serves as a garage, hitting a button on the carâs screen to open one of the bays. He pulls in slowly, the outside world fading as the garage door shuts behind the car, dousing it in darkness until the neon lights above flicker on.Â
Without a word, he powers off the vehicle and gets out. Taking a deep breath, you square your shoulders and get out of the car. He doesnât wait for you - even shuts the door as he enters the main house so youâre forced to lug it open.Â
Heâs already opening the door to the main house a few yards away, forcing you again to haphazardly navigate gravel in your heels as you give chase. Youâre sweating and irritated by the time youâre up the steps and pushing through the front door, a nasty quip on your lips ready until you see your aunt coming down the stairs.Â
âOh thank goodness,â she says, seeing you. She looks older than you remember, the lines of her face deep and the hair at her temples gray. âCome along.â
âWhatâs going on?â you ask, uncertain as you step into the foyer and let her take your arm.Â
She scowls. âDid that useless boy not tell you? Your mother suffered a heart attack this morning. Sheâs with Dr. Ymir in the medical wing.â
Your heart thuds to a stop as you wheel around to look over your shoulder at Soonyoung. His gaze is stormy but his face gives away nothing as he turns to leave the way he came, slamming the front door and vanishing down the steps to leave you alone.Â
âNo,â you mumble as your aunt pulls you down the hall. âHe didnât tell me.âÂ
Because thatâs how much Soonyoung hates you. Hate isnât even the right word, you think. It is something far deeper and far more sinister, fueled only by taking away something that he valued more than anything else in the world and forcing him to live with it.Â
I deserve this, you think as the door to one of the private medical rooms opens, a clinical smell hitting you in the face. I deserve everything that happens to me.Â
I deserve this. Itâs all you can think of as you watch the black casket lower into the ground. Seungcheol stands beside you, his hands linked in front of him. You want to reach out and take his hand in yours, but you donât want him to look weak. Donât want others to see him crack like you know he will if you comfort him.Â
Instead, you comfort yourself as best you can, which isnât saying much. Youâve never been good at dealing with your feelings, too much of your motherâs blood running through you. It was your fatherâs least favorite trait of yours and perhaps Soonyoungâs favorite.
Soonyoung, who has always been your emotional tether and outlet. Youâre not accustomed to dealing with grief alone, and the pull of it feels like an undertow threatening to drag you under and drown you.Â
Someone shifts behind you, close enough that you feel Yijun next to you stiffen. You turn to look over your shoulder, blinking in surprise as you tilt your head up to see Soonyoung. He doesnât look at you, dark eyes fixed forward and jaw flexing tightly. Heâs standing closer than is necessary, as shown by your husbandâs scoff.Â
Soonyoung doesnât move, though. He remains nearly pressed against your back, so close that you can smell vanilla and sandalwood. Turning away from him, you feel your shoulders relax. He ignores you, but heâs there, a stoic guardian thatâs just out of reach.
The Tower of the Choi Syndicate is too lost in his grief to notice or care about Soonyoungâs proximity to you. Your brother couldnât care less, barely realizing that his brother by choice is an inch away from him. But you know Soonyoung is there and thatâs all that matters.Â
The grief lessens, turning back from churning waters to gentle, lapping waves.
âYour brother doesnât respect me,â Yijun asserts. You look at him in the bathroom mirror. Heâs standing behind you in the closet, taking out glinting cufflinks to replace them in the countertop in the middle of the aisles of clothes. âYou should work on that.â
âSeungcheol hardly takes what I say to heart.â
Yijun snorts, detecting the lie before you can even get it out. Seungcheol very much values your insight and opinion far more than heâs interested in Yijunâs. Heâs made it clear at multiple parties and events now, often asking you how business is and how the shared Kim-Choi accounts are doing, despite not having anything to do with them.Â
Seungcheol hates your role within the Kim family. On more than one occasion heâs recommended Yijun make use of you somewhere in the family business, to make you the head of operation somewhere so that your schooling and experience werenât going to waste. Yijun asserted that your social skills were being put to perfect use, entertaining the wives of his associates and serving as the perfect host when his business colleagues and friends were over.Â
âHeâs going to be leading the family soon,â Yijun sighs. âIt would be better for us if he saw me as a real ally.â
âHe does see you as an ally. Youâre married to his sister.â
âExactly, so you should remind him that Iâm family.â It doesnât sound like a threat, but it also doesnât sound like a request. Sighing, you shut the drawer in the counter forcefully. It draws his attention, gaze darkening. âDonât you want your brother to respect your husband?â
No, you think. You donât respect your husband, so why should Seungcheol?
Instead, you sigh. âOf course, Yi.â He doesnât soften at the nickname. âIâll talk to him, alright? Heâs got a lot going on. And donât talk about my fatherâs health that way.â
âI didnât say anything about his health.â
âPlease,â you snort. âI know what you meant about Cheol taking over soon.âÂ
Yijun had been talking about Seungcheol more and more. Youâve watched with a sour taste in your mouth as your husband tries to earn your brotherâs attention and trust, flashing what he thinks Seungcheol cares about in his face, telling him about the new car he acquired, or the historical art piece you purchased at an auction, and the new apartment building heâs constructing.Â
Seungcheol doesnât give a fuck about any of that. The Choi family never has. Your ancestors didnât make a name for themselves and carve it on the mountain they built their home on by showing off their wealth and what it could do for them. They did it by earning it, and by remaining steadfast and intelligent. Political.Â
Yijun understands none of that. As the eldest son of his family, itâs a shame. The real world of the Syndicates is lost on him. He has enough business acumen to run companies under his fatherâs careful tutelage and instruction, but he doesnât have the social savvy for it, the right drive.Â
His brother does. You think of Kim Minchan and nearly shiver. The middle child of the Kim family has more than enough understanding of the way that things work, but the ocean of blood behind him is enough for you to prefer Yijun leading the Kim Syndicate any day.Â
âIâm just saying,â Yijun grunts, flicking off the lights in the closet. âYour brother has all the reason in the world to respect me and he doesnât.â He looks at you, face hardening. âDo you tell him not to? Is that what it is? His baby sister tells him how useless her husband is?âÂ
Danger is in the air. Yijun wonât lay a hand on you, but it doesnât make this dance any less stressful. You turn away from the mirror, looking at him fully. Heâs not terrible to look at - he has a sharp jaw and a broad nose and a pleasant shaped mouth. Heâs handsome, even.Â
Heâs not Kwon Soonyoung.Â
Swallowing away the thought, you reach up to put your hands on his chest, placating. âI wouldnât do that,â you assure him, softening your voice. You hate the sound of your voice, hate the way you pitch it low and gentle. âYouâre a reflection of me too. I would never let my brother think any of those things about my husband.âÂ
Yijun swats your hands away, making you grit your teeth. âDonât act like a whore. Just - tell your brother. I should be in his inner circle by now. Make it happen.âÂ
As Yijun leaves the bathroom, the urge to grab him by his collar and yank him back in to smash his head on the counter almost wins. You stare at him until he vanishes in the bedroom, your rage a live, sentient thing. You feel it crawl beneath your skin, slithering and clawing and biting and begging to be let out.Â
Steady is the mountain. You take that fire and shove it down. Years of instinct of reacting with your motherâs temper peter out slowly. Itâs a shame - youâre the last woman left from her side of the family, the only one who can carry the fire of the phoenix.Â
You glare at the bedroom. Somewhere, Yijun lurks, getting into bed. Oh how the shadows of the weak choke out the fire of the strong.Â
If killing Yijun wouldnât risk everything, youâd have done it already. That first month spent with him where you realized this would not only be a loveless marriage, but a hateful one had almost driven you to it. The Choi Syndicate could surely survive a war with the Kim Syndicate - you had better assets, stronger loyalties, and more money.Â
But if the Kim family turned to the Yong familyâŚÂ
Avoiding unification of the Kim and Yong families is why you were married to Kim Yijun in the first place. To murder him now would mean Syndicate war, and despite the fact that every moment with him is hateful and poisonous, youâre too nervous to put your family at risk.Â
Especially with your fatherâs failing health, as Yijun had pointed out.Â
Syndicate war isnât the only thing keeping you from stabbing Kim Yijun until you canât feel anything anymore. Minchanâs shadow of a presence lingers over your thoughts, one of the few threats you truly fear. Any harm to his brother would elevate Minchan to a position where he could only wield his power more.Â
And heâd hunt you like a bloodhound. Youâre unsure if there is any corner of the world he would leave unturned if you killed his brother, no matter how much it would benefit him if Yijun keeled over tomorrow.Â
Inside your bedroom is dark. It doesnât feel like your bedroom at all. Thereâs nothing homey about it, no possession or unique decor, no pictures. You wouldnât sleep in here at all if Yijun didnât make you, insisting that he couldnât trust any of the house staff not to tell your father you werenât sleeping in the same room.Â
Your father doesnât care. He stopped caring about anything the day you put your mother into the dirt. Even if he hadnât, as long as your relationship looked functional to whom it mattered, it mattered little to him if you slept in the same room or if you even liked Kim Yijun.
Heâd made that very clear the day he tore away your future with Soonyoung.Â
Yijun is already snoring when you climb into bed. You grind your teeth, reaching to pull open the nightstand for noise cancelling earbuds and sleep medication. The medication isnât as strong as the crushed up knockout you might have used previously, but it helps take the edge off without making you vulnerable to attack.Â
Which is something you still worry about.Â
Setting your phone on silent, you settle in for sleep. It takes a long time, but you finally drift away to thinking about smothering the man next to you in his sleep.Â
Something wakes you. Blinking sleep from your eyes, you sit up in bed and look around the room. Itâs dark, but you can see the barely-there outlines of the furniture in your bedroom. Next to you, Yijun is gone. You can feel the lack of presence there more than you can see it, reaching your hand over to confirm the bed is cold and that heâs not been there for a while.Â
You reach for the phone on your nightstand but canât find it. Frowning, you press your hand on the cool marble, sweeping back and forth to no avail. You lean further, finger finding the button to the light function on the stand and press down.Â
Dim, lavender light halos the top of the nightstand. Your phone is nowhere in sight. Itâs just your jewelry dish, a decanter for water, and your sleep medication. Youâre pretty sure that you put your phone face down before you went to bed, but you canât be sure.Â
Pulling open the nightstand drawer only makes the back of your neck sweat. Your phone isnât there, but neither is the gun you keep in the top drawer. Both you and Yijun sleep armed, despite having armed guards on the premises at all times.Â
Snapping the drawer shut, you roll to the other side of the bed and pull his open. A book, a watch, some pill bottles and a pack of cigarettes fill the drawer. No gun.Â
The back of your neck tingles. You rip the sheets off of you, heading to the bedroom door. The house is mostly dark when you open it, the entire second floor dim. Leaning over the banister, you can see a shaft of light falling across the room, perhaps coming from the kitchen.Â
Quietly, you stalk toward the top of the stairwell, trying to reduce noise as you creep down. A high pitched whine rings in your ears, heart thundering. You have no idea why youâre so afraid all of the sudden, especially in your own house, but your instincts tell you to be alert and quiet.Â
At the foot of the stairs, you confirm the light is coming from the kitchen. Itâs not uncommon for people to be in the house in the middle of the night. Official Syndicate business happens at any time, and often goes into the early hours of morning.Â
Tonight, itâs not busy. Before youâd gone upstairs to bed, youâd noted that it was a skeleton crew security team for the night, just a few of them at the gate house and walking the premises while you and Yijun returned upstairs for the evening alone.Â
Creeping toward the hallway, you pause when you hear voices. You identify Yijunâs voice right away, holding your breath and straining your hearing as he says, âWhat do you want me to do here?âÂ
âKeep her contained. Make sure no one from her family can reach her.â
âI already took her phone and her gun.â
Your stomach drops. âGood.â Thatâs Minchanâs voice, you realize, dread growing tenfold. âThe second she finds out the Tower has fallen, sheâll try to run or her brother will try to get her.â
âOr that psycho fuck,â Yijun mutters.Â
âYouâd be lucky if it was Seungcheol who came to get her. If Kwon Soonyoung comes looking, call me immediately. Weâll make our move in two hours. Weâve got the biggest team outside the Choi estate ready to go in and weâve got men and women stationed at all the key points.â
âSo Iâm just supposed to sit here and babysit my wife?â
âYes.â Minchanâs tone is nonnegotiable. âWeâll leave the guards at the gatehouse but we canât spare anyone else. This kind of assault requires everyone. The Yong family will take care of the Pearl District and the Salt.âÂ
Yijun hesitates. âWhat about the Yoon family? Are they all accounted for?âÂ
âYes. I have a team on the crazy one - what do they call her?â
âAngel, I think.â
Minchan laughs. âDemon is more fitting. Stay here. Stay by your phone. Weâll call thirty minutes before we give the signal to link everyone on comms. We do this right, and the Choi Syndicate is gone.âÂ
Panic presses in for a moment. Your heart hammers. Your hands shake. Bile churns your stomach. It feels like you canât get enough air, the pieces of what they're talking about falling into place.
The Tower has fallen.
Your father is dead, and in the wake of the crushing blow, the Kim family intends to strike at yours alongside the Yong family. The realization lands like a blow, immediately slapping you out of your panic.Â
Fear turns to rage. Rage turns to ice. You are fire, you are the mountain.Â
Steadfast is the mountain, but the fire does burn.Â
As quietly as you can, you creep up the stairs. You keep turning over your shoulder to ensure Minchan doesnât leave the kitchen and catch you creeping back toward your bedroom. When you hit the second floor landing, you all but sprint to your room, gears turning.Â
Yijun took your phone and intends to keep you locked in the house until they finish their plan. From their discussion, you know they intend to mobilize within two hours, targeting important members of the Choi Syndicate across the city with the help of the Yong family.Â
It means you have only a few minutes to warn your family to respond, to prepare and to fight back or strike first. Which is hard to do without a phone, but your husband doesnât know you nearly as well as he thinks.
Door closed behind you, you flip the lock on the bedroom door and dash for the closet. The lights above come to life, bathing you in ghoulish, grey light. You dive to the floor toward your shelf holding all of your shoes, the carpet burns nothing compared to the pain starting to bloom behind your sternum where your grief builds slowly under your anger.Â
Your father is dead. The Kims are going to turn on you anyway. Your marriage to Kim Yijun to secure alliances against the Yong family was for nothing.
Youâve endured for nothing.Â
Snatching a pair of boots, you swallow down the bile again. You will not break now, not when there are more important things than the time youâve wasted withering away in this cold home. Shoving your hand inside the boot, you come into contact with what you were looking for. Your hand closes around the device, yanking it out and powering it on.Â
The screen flashes to life. You press one and hold, hearing the buzz on the phone as it begins to ring. You cradle the phone against your shoulder and ear, nearly sick with the adrenaline that is pounding through you, your vision blurring, hands shaking.Â
You grab another shoe, this time reaching inside carefully instead of shoving your hand in. The smooth, bone handle of a knife meets your hand and you wrap your fingers around it firmly, pulling it out.Â
Soonyoung answers on the fourth ring. âWhere are you?âÂ
âThe Kim family has turned on the Chois. Theyâre mobilizing for a full scale attack in roughly two hours. The Yong family is helping them. Theyâre at the estate and all over the city - anyone who is important to us regardless of position will need to be warned. The Yong family is handling the Pearl District and the Salt.âÂ
âHow many men are at Yijunâs estate?â You can hear him moving on the other side of the line, something rustling. Perhaps clothes as he gets dressed. âAre you armed?âÂ
âThere are men at the guard house and one walking the perimeter. Itâs just me and Yijun inside, I think Minchan is leaving. Iâve got a knife.âÂ
âWhere are you in the house?âÂ
âBedroom, second landing to the right and all the way at the end of the hall. There are windows but they donât open.âÂ
âListen to me,â Soonyoung says, voice like ice. âThe second we start moving into position to accept the assault, theyâll know something is off. When that happens, Yijun is going to try to kill you, do you understand?â When you say nothing, he asks again, voice louder. âDo you understand?âÂ
âYes.â
âI need you to fight back. Either kill him or hold him off until Iâm there.âÂ
âYou need to warn-â
âDonât worry about the fucking Syndicate! Weâll be fine. Youâve given us more than enough time. I need you to be entirely focused on yourself.â
You take a deep breath, letting it out shakily. âOkay.â
âDo you have frostbyte?â
âMaybe? Yijun might have it in the nightstand.â
âTake some. Not enough to fuck you up, but enough to pump that adrenaline and make your head clear. I will be there in thirty minutes.âÂ
âOkay.âÂ
You squeeze the phone, unwilling to hang up. It doesnât matter that you havenât heard his voice in months. It doesnât matter that he hates you, it doesnât matter that you know whatever used to be between you is broken and itâs entirely your fault. You just⌠donât want to hang up.Â
âHey.â Soonyoungâs voice is soft, drawing you from your trembling spiral. âDo what I said. Do the frostbyte and kill him if you have to. I have to go.â
âOkay.â
âIâll see you in thirty minutes.â Soonyoung pauses, the silence heavy on the line. âI love you.âÂ
Nothing breaks you like those words, whispered but firm, whispered in case you die before he gets there. He doesnât have to say thatâs why heâs saying it - you know. You know the chance of him not getting there fast enough is likely and real. He does too, but instead of telling you, he gives you this.Â
You whisper back, âI love you.âÂ
Soonyoung hangs up the phone and you fight a sob. You bring the knife up to your hand, pressing your pointer finger down on the tip. The sting is immediate, making you his in pain as blood beads on the tip of your finger, red and garish in the closet lighting.Â
The sting grounds you enough to push yourself from the floor, following Soonyoungâs directions to Yijunâs nightstand. You yank it open, rattling around the contents until you find the bag of frostbyte you were hoping was there. Yijun uses it the nights he attempts to put an heir in you, numbing himself the way you never did, taking your punishment for what youâd done to Soonyoung raw.
Not enough to fuck me up, you think, untwisting the bag and shaking. Just enough to make it easier.Â
Dipping the tip of your knife into the bag, you pull out a small lump of the glittering drug. You try not to think about that night at the club all those years ago, when you and Soonyoung were still dancing around one anotherâs feelings, doing anything you could to get a reaction out of one another.Â
You take a sharp breath in. The drug hits your nasal passage and it burns, your eyes smarting as you tilt your head up, cursing and blinking away the tears. It hits the back of your throat, bitter and awful as you cough a little, trying to wait for it to clear your nasal passage.
When the burning subsides a little, you do it again. Itâs less harsh than the first bump but still just as awful, making you wonder how the fuck you did this on the weekend with your friends as a teenager. Tossing the back on the nightstand, you stand waiting, closing your eyes and trying to do deep breathing exercises your therapist taught you to calm down.Â
Frostbyte works fast. It hits your bloodstream and an electric calm comes over you. Everything comes into sharper focus, the adrenaline pumping as your simmering rage turns to a boil, ready to kick the fucking door down and hunt down Yijun yourself.
Nerves fade away to the background of your mind. You walk toward the door, waiting to the side so when Yijun ultimately kicks it down, youâre ready.Â
Ten minutes pass. The entire time your ears are ringing, heart thundering in your chest. You think the frostbyte was a good idea - if you had to wait in silence like this without it, you would have gone crazy by now. Even with the drug, fear nips at your ankles, a hound ever on your tail.Â
Yijunâs footsteps thunder up the stairs. Your heart lurches and you inch away from the door, readying yourself. He storms down the hall, fury in each step until he gets to the door and turns the handle. It doesnât move. He tries a few more times, shaking the door.Â
His roar on the other side of the door is loud and feral, making you grin as he thrashes against the door, cursing and screaming at you. The door holds, rattling in place as he slams what you think is his shoulder into it multiple times.Â
The bombardment pauses for a second and then restarts ten times stronger. This time, you recognize that itâs his foot slamming into the side of the door. You realize heâs kicking where the door is latched, trying to break it open instead of kicking through it.Â
A small crack sounds. You take a breath, readying yourself as you hear another snap go through the door, now rattling loose in its frame. He kicks hard again and the door blows open, nearly smacking you as it does. You roll away from it on the wall, keeping close as Yijun barrels past you, swinging his head from left to right as he looks for you.
Itâs your only chance to get the jump on him. You slide from the dark, heart hammering. Youâve never stabbed anyone before, but youâve practiced. You drive the knife upward, intending to puncture his kidneys. Yijun twists a little to the side, sensing your presence as the knife plunges into his side.Â
Yijun screams. Your satisfaction only lasts a second before he throws his elbow backward, catching you in the nose. Pain explodes in your face, blinding you as your eyes water and you stumble backward hands shooting to your face.Â
Removing the knife from his side, Yijun screams at you, spit flying as he comes at you. Through tears and warm blood rushing from your nose, you reach for anything to use as a weapon. Your hand closes on the ceramic artwork on the dresser and you launch it at him, hitting him hard in the face.Â
The ceramic shatters and he drops the knife. You dive for it but he grabs you by the hair, ripping you upward and backward like a ragdoll. You lose your footing, screaming as he tightens his fist in your hair and drags you toward the bed, tossing you there.Â
With a feral shout, you kick your foot forward, catching him in the lower gut. He grunts but wraps his hand around your ankle, yanking you back off the bed onto the floor, where the knife lays. You reach for it, seething, your hands managing to close around it just as he pivots, foot landing against your ribcage.Â
Again, pain explodes inside of you. With the frostbyte, you barely recognize it, grabbing the knife and stabbing him in the calf. He shrieks and collapses to a knee, reaching for the knife. This time you rip it back out, nearly losing your grip on the bone handle, fingers slippery with blood.Â
You stab him again, this time in the thigh. His knee presses into your stomach, crushing you and forcing air from your lungs. You ignore the pain, stabbing him again and again in the thigh until he falls backward off of you, muscles malfunctioning, tendons give away.Â
Yijun kicks out at you with his good leg but youâre already moving, ignoring the way your body is screaming in utter agony, every part of you throbbing and begging you to give up.Â
You donât. You scramble on top of him. His hands shoot up to your throat but you spit at him, a spray of blood blinding him and making his grip loosen momentarily. Itâs enough to bring the knife down home again, this time directly in the juncture between his neck and shoulder.Â
For a second, he fights back. You hear the wet gasp and he thrashes, but you stab him again. And again and again and again and again -
You think about all of the times that you were forced to submit to him.Â
And again and again and again -Â
The way he heaved himself on top of you, trying to force a child into you so he could be done with you, the way youâd wish it had been Soonyoung instead.Â
And again and again and again -Â
The way Soonyoungâs face broke that morning, begging you not to do this to him.Â
And again and again and again -
All for the Kim family to turn on the Choiâs anyway, wasting the entire time youâve spent under lock and key, doing Yijunâs bidding while Soonyoung hated you. Loathed you. Wish you never happened to him.Â
Again and AGAINANDAGAINANDAGAINAND-Â
Yijun isnât moving under you. Your hand is warm and wet, the knife becoming slippery as you let it go. It clatters to the floor and you sit backward on his knees. Heâs unmoving as you heave, sucking down air that tastes like iron and salt.Â
Sweat slicks the back of your neck and down your spine. Somewhere in the house, thereâs a crashing noise. You leap for the knife, rolling off of Yijunâs mutilated body toward the door, positioning yourself in a defensive position as feet thunder up the stairs.Â
You bare your teeth, knowing this is it. Knowing Soonyoung hasnât come quickly enough but it doesnât matter, because you warned them and they are safe. Your penance for destroying him has been paid in half, though never full, and -
Soonyoung appears in the doorway. He looks like an angel from hell, wreathed in shallow light that comes from the first floor, his silver hair stained with blood. Heâs in black trousers and a short-sleeve shirt with his favorite band on it - one of his sleep shirts.Â
For less than a second, he stares at you. Then, Soonyoung dives at you, dropping the gun in his head and grabbing you. You hadnât realized that youâd sunk to your knees, looking up at him as he grabs your face, turning you this way and that. Heâs asking you a question but you canât understand him, dizzy and confused and in so much pain that the edge of your vision wavers.Â
âBaby,â Soonyoung begs, his voice warped and echoey. âHey, I need you to answer me. Where are you bleeding?âÂ
âSâmostly his,â you answer, feeling how heavy your tongue is. Your thoughts are sticky and slow. Concussed, you think. âMaybe broke my nose.âÂ
Soonyoungâs thumb brushes gently across your cheek, smearing blood. âCan you walk if I help you?â You think about it. Shake your head. âOkay. Iâm going to lift you up, alright? Tell me where it hurts so I donât hurt you, Baby.âÂ
âRibs.âÂ
âLeft or right?âÂ
You pause, breathing in and feeling the pain bloom. âRight.âÂ
âOkay, tell me if I hurt you, okay? Weâre going to take you home.â
âThank you.â Soonyoung hesitates at your tone, looking at you. His eyes are vulnerable and open, more raw than you have seen them since you were kids. âYou didnât have to come get me.âÂ
He stares and stares at you. The world fades a little and Soonyoung lifts you toward him. âOf course I did,â he murmurs, so soft you barely hear what heâs saying. âWhen you say jump, remember?â
âWhere's this?â You mumble, looking out the window at a small home behind high gates.
Soonyoung has been driving for an hour and a half, his silence nearly unbearable as you both left the city. You donât ask about where youâre going or if everyone is okay - you donât think you can stomach the answers right now. Not while in the car.Â
Rain mists through the window as Soonyoung rolls it down to punch in a code in front of the gate. It flashes green and the metal starts to roll open, revealing a large but modest house - at least by Syndicate standards. He drives through, gravel crunching beneath the tires.Â
âSafe House. Very few people know it exists.âÂ
âAre we in Levin?â He nods his head. Youâve never been to the small town, but you know itâs mostly a vacation village on the coast. âWho does this place belong to?âÂ
âMe.â You look at him, surprised. âI bought it when you⌠got engaged.âÂ
Itâs like a stone sinking to the bottom of your stomach. You donât have to ask why. It was his failsafe for you, a way to get you away from Yijun if you had just asked.Â
You should have asked. Should have just thrown it away and called him, should have begged him from your knees-Â
Soonyoung turns the car off and opens the door. You open yours, rain pattering against your red skin. He rushes to help you out of the car, hands hovering around you, unsure where to touch. It makes you want to sob. You want him to touch you anywhere - everywhere.Â
Instead, he leads you to the house, a hand wrapped firmly around your forearm to keep you upright and steady as you walk up the steps.Â
A porch light flickers on. You cringe away from the brightness, squinting through your fingers as the door opens to reveal Vernon standing on the other side. His eyes flicker between the two of you and he nods, stepping to the side to let you in.Â
Warmth blankets you as Soonyoung shuts the door. Youâre standing in a small entryway with a staircase to the right leading to the second floor. Straight on, the lights are on, revealing a sliver of the living room. You can hear voices pause as they hear the door shut.Â
Angel materializes in the doorway, her hair damp. Sheâs dressed down like she recently showered, her eyes on you as she heaves a sigh of relief. âItâs Hoshi and Baby,â she calls over her shoulder, coming forward.Â
Soonyoung nudges you toward Angel gently. âTake her to shower.âÂ
âYeah of course.âÂ
âWhereâs Seungcheol?â You ask, turning to look at Soonyoung, who is already looking at his phone, holoscreen lighting up his face.Â
âOn his way. The main crew is safe.â He hesitates. âWe lost Lan, Old Man Vero and Yoon Minji.âÂ
Your heart seizes, eyes darting to Angel. âAngel, Iâm-â
âJeonghan is taking care of it.â For the first time in years, you hear a note of pain in her voice, raw and real. Angel has - had - a complicated relationship with her step-mother, the matriarch of the Yoong family. âIâve already satiated my vengeance. This is his. Come on.âÂ
You hesitate. Soonyoung nudges you toward the stairs gently by the hip, suddenly looking tired. âGo. Iâm going to find a doctor for that nose.âÂ
âIs it terrible?âÂ
He huffs, trying not to laugh. âNo, but it needs to be fixed. Go. Shower.âÂ
I love you. Itâs on the tip of your tongue, right there. I love you. Itâs all you can think about, thundering in your ribcage. I love you. It consumes you, makes you freeze up, staring at him. I love you.Â
Angel tugs your wrist delicately and breaks the spell. You follow her up the stairs. Sheâs careful with you, making you take one step at a time. You donât think youâve ever seen her so gentle, her eyes softened with worry and her touch on you delicate as butterfly wings.Â
Upstairs, she leads you into a room that smells like vanilla and sandalwood. Soonyoung. This room belongs to Soonyoung. You spot his subtle touches, a gaming computer shoved in the corner and powered off. A closet with a metal door that is under lock and key. A single gun sitting on top of the nightstand.Â
But what makes the room spin is the touches of you. A teakwood candle sitting on the dresser. Weighted blankets folded at the end of the bed. A bookshelf with all your favorite titles. A jar of saltwater taffy in multiple flavors.Â
Angel hesitates by the bathroom door, watching you drink in the room. You turn to her, shaking your head, confused and mouth open. She nods. âI know. I didnât know either.âÂ
âI could live and die a thousand times and never deserve him.âÂ
âIâm not the best judge of character, but I donât think I believe that to be true.âÂ
Angel isnât the best judge of character. But she also doesnât say things she does not mean. Sheâs the last person in the world to offer words of comfort, and yet sheâs standing in the bathroom staring at you like she can see through you, right down to the very core.Â
Maybe she can. Seeing what is rotting people on the inside and sniffing out their weaknesses is what she does best.Â
Instead of pointing out where you hurt, she manages to get you into the bathroom. Itâs spacious but not grand like what youâre used to - itâs small. Safe. She starts the shower and backs away, helping you get out of your bloody clothing.Â
Everything hurts so bad. Your ribs ache, the bruising on them blotchy and horrendous as Angel peels back your shirt. She thankfully doesnât react - sheâs seen worse and done worse. Suddenly, you realize why Soonyoung picked her to help you. Sheâs steady, her fingers sure as she holds your arm while you pull your pants down.
You donât dare look in the mirror. From what you can see without it, itâs already bad enough. Yijun hadnât dealt fatal damage, but you know youâre bruised and covered in dry, flaking blood.Â
Angel leaves you in the shower, shutting the door to go sit on the sink, a guardian willing to give you space but ready to help when you need it. Shaking, you shuffle into the stream of hot water, hissing when it hits your skin.Â
Itâs both heaven and hell. The hot water feels so good on your aching muscles and throbbing pain, but it also hurts when the water taps against your nose, reminding you that it is indeed broken. You suck in sharp air as you slowly begin to work your fingers into your skin, turning the water pink as you wash off the blood.Â
Blood that belongs to you. Blood that belongs to Yijun.
Yijun.Â
Youâre not sorry you killed him. It was satisfying and necessary. But⌠the weight of your grief comes crashing into you. You could have killed him years ago and ran. Could have gone crawling back to Soonyoung and asked for his help. Could have told him that the only reason you ever agreed to marry him in the first place was to protect him.Â
None of it mattered. You bought him a paltry couple years worth of protection and for what? To shackle yourself to a man who thought little of you, who wanted to fuck you until you gave him another version of himself, who wanted to kill you at every moment because he knew you didnât respect him and because he was afraid of you and the way you command respect from your family, but he never did.
All that time youâd made yourself smaller for him. Held back your bite. Hid your teeth. Mourned Soonyoung everyday, knowing that youâd never touch him again, that he would never kiss you again, that youâd never wake up in the morning when he got home from work and crawled into bed with you.
A potential lifetime of happiness, one of your own making, wasted on a promise that they broke anyway.Â
For nothing. It had been for nothing, youâd hurt Soonyoung for nothing, shut him out, promised you would never leave him and threw him away, forced him to jump for you, forced him to leave you when he said he wouldnât all for nothing nothing nothing nothing notHING NOTHINGNOTHINGNOTHINGNOTHING-
Angelâs arms are around you. You startle, looking up to see that she is in the shower fully clothed, holding you to her. You hadnât realized youâd been crying - screaming - in the shower. She presses you closer to her, the only way she knows how to tell you that sheâs got you. Sheâs there. She understands.Â
You crumble, leaning heavily on her as you let it out, sobbing. Your throat is raw, your face throbbing each time you squeeze your eyes shut. Angel says nothing, content to hold you while her clothes soak up the water, weighing her down as you let out your grief in full, ugly waves.Â
Eventually, the water starts to get cold and your tears start to dry up. You sniff and groan, the pain in your face so poignant that it canât be ignored. Lifting your head from her shoulder, you glance at her boots, soaked and murky red around the edges.
âCan I tell you something?â Angel asks, voice low. You nod. She hesitates, putting the words together before she says, âHeâs going to accept you back. Heâs going to do it with no conditions, and ask nothing of you. Youâre going to want to torture yourself and beg for his forgiveness and deny yourself of him because you think you should be punished, that there is not a god powerful enough to hurt you the way you deserve.â
You blink in surprise. Angel isnât religious, despite the nickname. She also isnât overly emotional or wordy. But you see the severity in which she tells you this, see the pain in her eyes. You remember that she has demons far older than yours, ones that have followed her since childhood.Â
And sheâs right. She reads you like a book, seeing the fucking pain radiating inside of you, the desire to be punished and hated and whipped-Â
âLet him take you back.â Her words are firm. âDonât make him punish you. Donât believe for a second that Soonyoung wants to make you pay. He doesnât. He doesnât care what you did or why. Just⌠let him have you. Youâve endured enough.âÂ
You nod. âAlright. Iâll try.â
âGood. Um - can we get out of the shower though? Itâs very cold in here.âÂ
You laugh, immediately followed by a groan. âPlease donât make me laugh. I am in so much pain.âÂ
âYeah, letâs go get you some drugs, dude.âÂ
The three Syndicates of the city are officially at war. Of all the news that has poured in over the last few days, this is the least surprising. When youâd seen Seungcheol that first night after everything went to hell, heâd held you close and promised that he would kill every last Kim in the city.
He had also told you he was proud of you. Not just for surviving Yijun long enough for Soonyoung to come get you, but for being able to warn the family what was coming. Your single warning alone had saved them a great deal and wounded the Kim Syndicate more than you could understand.Â
The days following your fatherâs death are strange. It doesnât feel like heâs dead - at least, you havenât truly processed it yet. There are things that demand your attention like being seen by Dr. Ymir for your fractured nose and bruised ribs, and the accounts and logistics of what being at war with the Kim and Yong family truly means.Â
On the fifth day at the safe house, you go back home. Seungcheol makes you ride with him, unwilling to let you out of his sight these days. Youâre the only two members of the Choi family left, and itâs up to the two of you to rally the troops and remind everyone what the mountain can do.Â
Seungcheol replaces your father as the Tower of the Choi Syndicate. Typically thereâs a small ceremony to pass the torch so to speak, but thereâs no time for that. Seungcheol is buried in problems and trying to maneuver the family into a favorable position, but itâs hard - the Yongs and Kims have been preparing this for a while.Â
Youâre suddenly given a job again. Fresh in his position leading the family, Seungcheol needs those he trusts by his side, immediately appointing you as the Architect of the Syndicate. Thereâs no one he trusts more with the finances and the logistics of the businesses under the Choi banner and who have pledged to his family.Â
With Yoon Minjiâs death, Jeonghanâs takes his rightful side as the Wisdom and second in command to Seungcheol. Itâs like youâd always known it would be as a kid, but it brings you no joy to see the two of them together in an office until the early hours of the morning, worn at the edges and sick with the grief theyâre ignoring to push forward.Â
With no surprise, Seungcheol immediately promotes Soonyoung to the lead military position, rising from Sword to Sentinel in a single night. Itâs the same position his father held under your father, and Soonyoung takes it with steely resolve.Â
It also means you donât see him. You move back into your old room at home. At first, it doesnât feel like your room at all because Soonyoung isn't in it. He had moved into your room when you first started dating, spending two years in that bed with you. Now, heâs taken up residence in his room down the hall, so close and yet the distance feels larger than ever.Â
Of all the problems mounting for you to solve, Soonyoung is the most important. You know he shouldnât be. There are a thousand other things that you need to figure out, like how to assure that the businesses you own in and near the Kim and Yong family territories wonât go under or be attacked, or how to assure that payment to the family wonât increase now that thereâs a fight.Â
Your days are filled with countless meetings, assuring loyal patrons that the Choi Syndicate will not fall and will not fail them, and that the Choiâs protect their own. You can see the fear in peopleâs eyes - the city hasnât had the big three at war in a long time. Already the city officials are cracking down on Syndicate activity to try and establish order.Â
Itâs farcical at best.Â
Squeezing your temples between your fingers, you lean back from the desk in your newly appointed office - which is really just your fatherâs. It feels weird to be in here. It still smells like leather and sweet tobacco, a little bit of smoke hanging in the air.Â
The last time youâd been in this office, youâd fallen to your knees and begged him not to make you marry Kim Yijun. Now you sit at the desk, hanging up the phone as another call ends - not as bad as the first, but not as good as youâd hoped.Â
Quickly, you scribble down a summary of the call to give to Seungcheol. You know heâll read every word you write, determined to hear each concern of those under Choi patronage, whether theyâre valid or not.Â
At the sound of the door opening, you glance up. Soonyoung sticks his head in, surprising you. You straighten in your seat, heart racing when you take him in. His silver hair has grown longer, tapered a bit at the neck. Heâs dressed in all black but heâs clean, indicating that he showered not that long ago. You thought he would be out all day like usual, looking at your watch to see heâs back far earlier than normal.
âIs everything alright?â You start to get up and he rushes to you, hands lifting to help you. âIâm alright. I am well on the mend.â
He chews his lip, nodding before dropping his hands hesitantly. âEverythingâs fine I just.â He hesitates. âDo you want to eat lunch?âÂ
âOh. Sure.â
Soonyoungâs smile is tentative. Shy. You give him one back, following him out of the office while sending a quick note to Jihoon that youâll meet with him later. He sends a thumbs down back, less than pleased that youâve not made time to talk to him about your potential murder charges for Yijun.Â
âAre you busy? We donât have to-â
âItâs just Jihoon.âÂ
âAh. Heâs persistent, are you sure-â
âI want to have lunch with you, Soonyoung.âÂ
He blushes and you grin. âAlright,â he murmurs. âWhen you say jump and all that.âÂ
That makes you pause. âYou donât have to do anything I tell you.âÂ
âWhat?â He stops walking, confused.Â
âYou donât have to ask how high if I tell you to jump... Iâm wrong a lot of the time. I donât⌠want to be that.âÂ
I donât want to repeat my mistakes. You donât say it, but you think Soonyoung senses it when he says, âIâve always wanted to jump for you. That hasnât changed.âÂ
Let him take you back. Donât make him punish you.Â
Angelâs words come back to you so you swallow down your guilt and you nod, giving him a tentative smile that he returns. This time, he holds out his hand to take you in the kitchen. You take it, the feeling of his fingers wrapping around yours both foreign and familiar.Â
The way he holds your hand in his makes you tremble. Itâs something so simple and benign and yet youâre screaming on the inside, looking at where your fingers twine together like itâs everything, like itâs the only thing.Â
Lunch consists of very badly burned grilled cheese. You donât care because Soonyoung makes it, insistent that he wants to and that he can. Heâs good at a lot of things, particularly on the spectrum of murder and weapons, but he is terrible at putting bread, cheese and butter in a pan.Â
You eat it anyway, burnt bread and all. He sits next to you, his stool pulled so close that your thighs touch. You want to reach out and brush your fingers across his face, down his neck, through his hair. You want to touch until youâre grabbing, grab until youâre pulling.Â
Instead, you let him lead this dance, too afraid to initiate.Â
Let him take you back. Donât make him punish you.Â
You donât, but you canât let go of the fear of rejection. Canât bring yourself to toe the line beyond what heâs giving you, which is more than you ever dreamed of. So you accept when he offers to take your plate, fingers brushing over the top of your hand either by design or by accident you donât know. His touch makes you shiver and he notices, pausing.Â
Slowly, you look up at Soonyoung. His eyes are dark and misty as ever, churning with emotion that youâre a little too afraid to read. Instead of taking the plates to the sink, he sets them down and reaches for you, cradling your face in his hands.Â
A sob works its way up your throat but you force it down. You will not cry over this. You will not make him comfort you.Â
âAre you afraid to touch me?â His question is gentle. You nod, eyes fluttering shut as his thumb brushes back and forth across your cheekbone. âWhy?âÂ
âI⌠want to so badly. I just want it to be your choice.âÂ
âI want you to.â You open your eyes. His earnestness is right on the surface of him, rippling for you to see. âIâm dying for it. Please.âÂ
Soonyoungâs please sounds like that morning heâd begged you all that time ago. It freezes you in place, heart beating like a prey animal in fight or flight. He steps closer, his breath on your forehead when he whispers, âPlease.âÂ
Slowly, you bring your hands up to his wrists. Licking your lips, you place your hands on him. His eyes close. His skin is warm to the touch and you feel him tremble as you brush your hands upward, tracing his forearms, his corded biceps. You brush your fingertips over the sleeves of his shirt and toward his neck until youâre cupping his throat, your thumbs resting against his hammering pulse.Â
You close your eyes, remaining still. Both of you remain that way, his hands on your face, yours on his neck. Youâre shaking under his touch, feel his breath against your forehead. His fingers add a little pressure to your face, careful not to hurt you where your bruise is finally fading on your nose as he turns you to look up at him.Â
Soonyoung licks his lips, eyes open. âThere is not a second I didnât love you.â
And there it is. The admission that he never hated you. You bet he tried - you know he tried. You know the inside of Soonyoungâs soul better than you know your own, no part of him hidden to you even with time.Â
âI donât care why you did it,â he continues. âNot anymore. Not after everything. I donât care about any of it. I just⌠want you.â
âSoonyoung-â
âI know youâre sorry. I know you hate yourself. I know there is guilt eating away at you. Get over it, because none of it changes how I feel. I love you. Youâre mine. I donât want to leave you again. You cannot make me.âÂ
âI know. I wonât make you.âÂ
âGood.â Soonyoung presses his forehead to yours gently. Heâs careful not to knock noses with you too hard, aware of the pain itâll cause. âI cannot do any of this without you.âÂ
âI know.â
Soonyoungâs mouth is tentative when it presses against yours. Your grip on him tightens, leaning forward into the kiss. It is everything - the only thing. You feel something wet on your face, thinking that youâve got another nosebleed, but when you pull away, you realize itâs because Soonyoung is crying.
Crying for the first time since his parents died.Â
You stand up from the stool, gripping the back of his neck to pull him toward you. He melts under your touch, letting you meld your mouths together. He tastes like his burnt sandwich and like him, his mouth warm and wet against yours. Vanilla and sandalwood invade your senses, overwhelming as you grip him for dear life, never wanting to let him go.
He doesnât want to let you go either. His grip on your hips is crushing, fingers digging into flesh and bone as though he can force you to become one. The thought makes you dizzy. You slide your fingers in his silk-soft hair, wrapping the strands around them to pull lightly, pull him closer, pull him to you, pull him back.Â
Soonyoung whines against your mouth and you break the kiss, panting. âTake me upstairs,â you whisper between peppering kissing against his mouth, his bottom lip, the corner of his lips. âPlease take me upstairs.âÂ
He does. Soonyoung grabs you by the hands, tugging you toward the stairs that lead to your room - the room you used to share. The room that still smells like him, even if faintly. He takes you to your bed, where youâve spent hundreds of nights with him, and lays you down gently like he has a million times before.Â
Soonyoung touches you like youâre holy. His hands skim over you in worship, they scratch you in penance, they hold you in reverence. He slots himself between your knees, stealing a kiss from you like itâll breathe new life into him, bare him anew, purge him of sin.Â
You love him. You love him you love him you love him you love him you love him -
A moan leaves his mouth when your nails drag down his back. He is quaking under your touch, his mouth hungry but careful against yours, wanting to swallow you whole but knowing youâre hurt. You know he wonât break you but you wish he would.
Thereâs time for that later. Now isnât the time for rough and biting. Now, Soonyoung peels the shirt from your skin, immediately covering your arms, chest, collarbones, shoulders in kisses. You vibrate under his touch, lashes fluttering as he sucks at the sensitive skin of your neck, tongue pressed flat to your pulse as he tastes you.Â
You tug at his shirt and he complies, leaning upward to toss it. Heâs back on you in a second, pressing you close, hip to hip as he tangles his tongue with yours, drinking you in. His touch ignites a fire and youâre burning, a complete inferno as you drag your fingers up the hard contour of his stomach to the firmness of his chest and around to his shoulders.Â
âI love you,â he mutters against your mouth, rolling his hips into you. You let out a breathy sound and he groans. âFuck I love you. I missed you. I love you.âÂ
âPlease,â you beg. He understands, burying his face in your neck and biting down lightly. You feel like youâre going to burn up under him, an out of control blaze while his fingers work the buttons on your pants. âNever let me go.â
âNever.âÂ
Jeans scrape down your legs, his hands following. He drags his blunt nails down your thighs. Your hips twitch upward, loving the scratch, loving the way he touches you, loving him. He returns his mouth to yours, unable to get enough of your kissing.Â
Soonyoungâs hand slips between your thighs, the pads of his fingers pressing against your clit through your underwear. You keen for him, pulling at the long strands of hair at the back of his neck. He moans in tandem, his pleasure driven by yours, loving the way you sound as you start to come apart under the gentle circle of his fingers.Â
He only teases you a little, knowing the friction with the fabric between his fingers and your aching cunt isnât enough. He finally decides that youâve had enough, hooking a finger to pull them aside, the cool air hitting your sticky folds.Â
Before you can complain, Soonyoungâs touch is there. He drags his fingers slow-soft from top to bottom, circling your clit slowly. Heâs not in a hurry, dragging it out as he sucks your tongue into his mouth, sliding his fingers back down to press against your entrance but not breach it.Â
You whine and he grins, pulling your bottom lip with his teeth until he lets go with a pop. âI love those sounds you make.âÂ
âFeels good,â you admit, head falling to the side as you close your eyes, enjoying the pressure he puts on your clit, wiggling his fingers back and forth. Your thighs close around his hand but heâs unbothered, drawing more arousal from you as he plays. âFuck, your fingers.âÂ
His laugh is throaty and he shakes his head, attaching his mouth to your jaw where he sucks at the skin. He makes himself comfortable with nibbling toward your neck, both of his hands reaching for the sides of your underwear to pull them down. You let him, folding your knees toward your for a moment to help.Â
Soonyoungâs hand returns to the wetness between your legs except this time, heâs not teasing. He presses a finger in deep and you whine, hips wiggling. You squeeze down on his finger, pussy spasming as he begins to pump leisurely, like he has all the time in the world.
And he does, doesnât he? The work is far from done and the world is falling apart, but it doesnât matter because heâs here with you. Because Soonyoung is yours again - always has been - and because heâs drawing your mouth toward his to kiss you messily, swallowing down your moans as he presses in another finger.Â
Now you crumble beneath him. You canât stop your hips from coming off the bed. You loop your arms around his neck, keeping him close, breathing the same air. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes impossible dark and half-lidded as he hooks his fingers, dragging them against that sensitive spot.Â
You cry out his name and he grins. Now he knows where it is, pressing repeatedly as he fucks you on his fingers, driving you directly toward an orgasm. Your breathing becomes labored, your legs squeezing his hips, your fingers digging into his shoulders. It is so good that you think you might die, letting him yank you toward release.Â
Soonyoung kisses you again and you come crashing down, cumming around his fingers, body squeezing, ignoring the ache in your ribs and the millions of other places that youâre sore. He doesnât slow down, scissoring his fingers to pry you open, to stretch you more.
âSoonyoung,â you gasp, voice wrecked. âSoonyoung Soonyoung Soonyoung.âÂ
âJust like that,â he agrees. You can tell he loves the way you say his name, knows that on your tongue it means something different. âCome on, one more.âÂ
Youâll give him anything he wants. Never again will you deny him. You let him work you up again, feeling the way your breath gets stuck in your lungs and you shiver, another wave washing through you as you shudder around his fingers.Â
When you start to pant, he pulls his fingers out. You feel the wet schlick as he does, immediately hating the way you feel empty, hating the way he leans away from you. Whining, you reach out toward him, needy. He hushes you with a brief kiss, only standing to rid himself of his jeans and briefs.Â
Using the fingers covered in your arousal, Soonyoung pumps his cock, smearing a mixture of your slick and his precum down his shaft as he kneels on the bed again, taking his place between your thighs again. You watch with hooded eyes as he rubs the head of his cock through your messy folds, a moan dripping from your lips.Â
Soonyoung is beautiful, skin flushed and a sheen of sweat on his arms. His stomach flexes and clenches as he presses the tip of his cock into your entrance, both of you taking a shaky breath together. He slowly slides home, the stretch of him driving you wild, pussy fluttering around him until heâs slotted to the hilt.Â
He hangs his head, panting as he plants his hands on either side of your head. He takes a moment to collect himself, shaking. You turn your head to the side, kissing his wrist, peppering any skin you can reach with your love while your hands drift up his back, feeling the muscles flex.Â
When he begins to move, you nearly die. It feels so good, your breath lodged in your throat. He lowers his face to yours, kissing you as gently as he fucks you. His thrusts are deep and timed, not hard or fast but slow and measured, pressing all the way in as he uses his weight to his advantage.Â
Your fingers turn to talons on his back, nails biting his shoulder blades. Heâs precise, the tip of his cock finding the right angle to make you nearly sob in a matter of a few thrusts. Itâs familiar. Home.Â
Soonyoung lowers himself to his forearms, pressing your chests together. The friction of his skin against your pert nipples makes you squeeze around him, his name a whisper on swollen, kiss-bitten lips. He presses his forehead to yours, breathing shakily as he continues to fuck you.
You feel him everywhere, feel everything that he wants to say. Soonyoung has never needed words to communicate to you and he doesnât now, the way he shakes as he lets out a wispy moan enough, the way he slides one of his arms under your back to cradle you to his chest, closer closer closer.
He wants to be closer and so do you, arms around his neck, drawing him to you. You never want to let him go, never will let him go. Youâve learned your lesson and this, right here with him is the only thing that matters.Â
âShh,â he hushes. You realize youâre crying, tasting salt on your lips when he brushes his mouth against yours. âI know.âÂ
âI love you.â
âI know.âÂ
Soonyoungâs pace picks up only a little bit. Itâs enough, sending you careening toward your third orgasm. He can feel it - needs it. He chases after your high, catching your mouth to brush his tongue against yours, rolling his hips until youâre clenching around him, whining into his mouth, lips buzzing against his.
He hums against you, waiting until your pussy lets go of its vice grip to speed up a little bit, the wet smack of his hips against yours loud and lewd, driving him forward until he comes, your name on his lips, his face buried in your neck. His thrusts slow, both of you trembling like leaves until he finally stops, remaining seated inside of you.Â
âI will love you for a thousand lifetimes,â he mutters against your mouth, with no intention of moving. âYou know that, right Baby?âÂ
You nod, fingers digging into his shoulder blades. âLeave me at your own peril, Kwon Soonyoung,â you rasp, quoting yourself that first night he finally caved, where he finally told you that he couldnât exist without you. âI will never go anywhere ever again.âÂ
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SYNDICATE ROLES
Tower - title for a Syndicate boss Wisdom - title for the second-in-command to a Sydicate boss Sentinel - title for the main military leader of a Syndicate Riots - title for a member of the Syndicate responsible for sowing discord Swords - title for a member of the Syndicate who is a fighter/military role Chariots - members of the Syndicate who make deals/act as business brokers Rooks - members of the Syndicate who collect debts/lead the extortion practices Justices - members of the Syndicate on the legal counsel Hanged Men - members of the Syndicate who betrayed their Syndicate Watchers - members of a Syndicate who are spies/informants Patrons - citizens who pay homage/have an alliance/are under the protection of a Syndicate Vanguard - official members of the Syndicate who don't have specific roles but do work for the Syndicate
#hoshi smut#soonyoung smut#kwon soonyoung smut#hoshi x reader#soonyoung x reader#hoshi fanfic#hoshi fic#soonyoung fanfic#soonyoung fic#svt smut#seventeen smut#seventeen fanfic#seventeen fic#hoshi seventeen#seventeen x reader#svt mafiaverse
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Something I really like about Rose Quartz's characterization is how dedicated the writers were to making what she did morally grey. Idk it would have been really easy for the twist to be she was Just Evil, especially learning she was related to the main villains, but no they created this very vague character who even in her appearances feels mysterious. If anything Rose is the one thing that is less clear to me after my rewatch, because now seeing the nuance in her character pulls me out of a black-ane-white view of her and into one that is just... foggy.
But a vibe I do get from Rose, is that despite clearly being incredibly compassionate, she's someone who lacks empathy in the case of the ability to fully realize others' autonomy and thought processes. There's just a lot of decisions she makes that feel aloof in an odd way, and when combined with how childish she can be it can give the impression she sees everything as a game. But it's still clear that she cares and is genuinely moved by the Earth, and when her entire truth is revealed you can see how ideologically honest she was. Even if it feels like her beliefs are just so she can have fun, but that is part of freedom, the freedom to vibe and explore and do silly things she couldn't.
That attitude clearly just comes from her position as Pink Diamond. It was an oppressive role emotionally, but not as literally oppressive as the lives of those around her. I think her relationship with Pearl is where I find the most of the part of me that sees her as compassionate but unempathetic. Pink can't fathom what it's like to have been born to be an obedient servant and how that would cloud Pearl's judgement. How telling her "I'm going to fight for this world but you dont have to" would mean nothing to her because she is still obsessed with her, how entering a romantic relationship with something while they're still effectively your servant is unhealthy, or how spending her life flirting with other men would probably tear your servant-to-lover-to-ex up inside lmao. With the first she obviously meant to be giving her a choice because she cares about Pearl, but she can't understand how to truly give Pearl freedom of choice she can't treat her like a fully freethinking person. With the second she doesn't understand how her power has an unhealthy impact on her bond with Pearl. And with the last it's not at all that Rose isn't allowed to move on, but I just always found she has a lack of awareness of Pearl's jealousy and misery that's a bit inappropriate. Not that you can't assume she has already let Pearl down easy or cares about her coping, but it's never shown, which feels like a deliberate choice.
I'm working on a more organized theory about Rose's characterization, but it is deeply fascinating. Her and Pearl's relationship is as well, I feel like it's sometimes characterized as just a mean jealous ex situation but like it's way more fucked than that, and is a great exploration of power dynamics, obsession, and grief. Love me some toxic doomed yuri.
#steven universe#pearl#rose quartz#pink diamond#su#shut the heck up#theories and rambling#i need to redo my tagging systems honestly#this is super unorganized but i just wanted to get it out#i reallybreally love characters with low empathy and high compassion so i might be projecting preferences lol
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You know why i know that arcane is "babys first fandom" for a lot of people?
A: ppl seem to genuinely think that characters calling each other "brother" or saying "hes like a brother to me" means theyre actual blood brothers or grew up together as siblings. And a lot of ppl get REALLY upset at vanco or jayvik shippers bc of that (ofc only the queer ships)
b: some ppl seem to really, GENUINELY get angry when you put these characters into hurt/comfort, whump situations. Like i'll see posts where ppl put a character into a distressing situation for the ~hurt~ and there will be ppl in the comments/notes who GENUINELY get mad at them for "hurting" the character.
And c: a larger amount of ppl than usual seemingly dont want their faves to have ANY negative or morally grey qualities and will interpret you talking about these qualities as "hate".
Like, idk if this says something about media literacy or sanitisation of media, but babes, you GOTTA learn about subtext and nuance and that sometimes you gotta put a character in a situation so there can be a STORY, you know. Also less ppl seem to get the concept of headcanons and more ppl need EVERYTHING about their fave characters to be canon compliant.
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can I talk about something real quick?
I hate how 99% of arcane fans completely Ignore their favorite character's flaws so much. I know this has been complained about multiple times but i genuinely get so tired of it and physically need to turn off my phone when that happens.
And Im not talking about Jinx, everyone knows she's not a great person, neither am I talking about silco or Sevika or quite literally any of the characters that are placed on the darker shade of grey.
Im talking about characters like Viktor or Mel or Jayce, Vi & Caitlyn aswell, but specifically the first three.
Look, we all know what their intentions are, they only wanted to help, they wanted the best for their cities/family and their goals, but the way they do it is Flawed. The sacrifices and nuance they go through and do just to achieve that specific ideal and goal affects how morally ambiguous or not they are.
What annoys me is that most of these people KNOW, but refuse to accept it and continue bringing down other characters because they refuse to accept there's different opinions over something in the show.
Especially with viktor, he is NAUNCED. He is selfish one way or another, he is willing to destroy himself for the sake of making something too far gone work, and not only did that destroy him, but completely result in the death of Sky. And eventually, that is going to destroy his relationship with Jayce too. He refuses to create weapons even if it means as a tool for self defence because he refuses to accept that zaun is not the most stable in terms of aggression, he got mad at Jayce for calling them dangerous when there was a literal riot on the bridge, a scene playing right infront of his eyes. Again, he is rightful to feel protective of his home, but he is ignorant towards certain things too.
I see so many people ignore viktors flaws and wrong doings, did we forget who he's going to become next season or what?? He literally committed a murder wether he wanted to do it or not. which is lowkey kinda hilarious because I don't see people defending Jayce for murdering that child despite the fact that its equally as wrong as Viktors mishap. He.is.not.flawless.
Mel, oh my god. i love Mel with all my heart, shes my everything, but she is a councilor. yes she's focusing on proving her family wrong, yes she wants to make piltover a better, safer place, and I don't think she's completely ignorant towards the undercity's state, but what has she done about it? Now, its not entirely her fault, I know, its all accumulated from Himerdingers ignorance, but that does not change the fact that she is apart of the same body that kept the undercity in its current state with all its problems for generations. She is a manipulator too, she wants things to go her way, wether it was with good intent or not. She pushed for weapons, YES, as a means of self defense, YES as protection from external threats coming from places other than P&Z, but her mother wasn't completely wrong about how weapons will always be used in every way possible, but she finds it difficult to accept such fact. Not to mention the fact that she literally told a zaunite to create a weapon that would be used against zaun.
So no, her being manipulative is not hot (this literally pisses me off the most) , especially not after that scene with hoskel because she BASICALLY called him stupid and belittled him indirectly. Is it true hes not the smartest? Yeah, did she do it to get him under her palm and ended up using him to do something "Good" in the end? Yeah, Is she good at doing it? Yeah, does she look good while doing it? Yeah, but she looks good ALL THE TIME. Manipulation is not what makes her attractive, its a FLAW, an ugly one. So calling Mel attractive ONLY because she's manipulative is mischaracterization at its finest. And I will bring this point again, separate intention from action.
I don't want to get into more details about mel, I will lose myself, but she is FLAWED, shes morally grey, she isn't perfect, just as the other characters in the whole show.
Jayce, he goes through multiple extreme points during his arc, he's quick to decide on things. At some points it could be a good thing, like how he apologized to viktor for saying harsh words to him. But what his major flaw with this trait is the fact that he goes between violent and peaceful multiple times, figuratively AND literally. He was settled with the fact that he doesn't want to harm zaun, infact, he wanted to help them in the first place, but he got influenced, and ended up resorting to violence, he lost himself, and it ended with the loss of a child's life. He didn't want to make weapons before, got influenced, look where it got him now? He is selfish too, and the list goes on.
Though, Its rare to find people who defend Mel and Jayce in this entire fandom, most of the people I've seen who claim to be fans of them tend to do this all the time smh.
And I just know I will start a war as soon as I open my mouth to talk about Vi & Cait. Which is why I won't because this post is long enough and I want to cover other things.
Please keep in mind that I wrote everything as flatly as possible, so the way you understand the things I say may be different from what I initially thought of, I swear on my life I do not hate these characters, Jayce Mel & Viktor are literally my upmost favorite characters of all time.
This is mostly talking about how sometimes you need to separate the intentions from the actions these characters do, because most of the time, actions speak louder than words.
ALL your favorite characters in Arcane and flawed, they have problems, they aren't perfect. And that's what makes each so special, because it makes you wonder how they will clean their footsteps and deal with those said flaws later if they decide to partake the lighter path, or how they will step deeper into the darker one. And even so, they will still be on the grey scale.
By far, Ekko is the only character closest to white if im being honest, and he still isn't perfect.
Arcane fans need to understand their favorite characters in different points of view, not just from their eyes, even if you agree with their doings and find it right.
One big example that i will bring up again, that scene with Mel, Viktor and Jayce discussing the potential misuse of hextech as Viktor dismantles the bomb. You can understand Viktors point of view, but why not Mels too? (& Vice Versa)
Another is the scene when Vi finally gets to see her sister in episode 5, Caitlyn tagging along with her. You finally get to see powder and Vi reunited, you feel content, and then Jinx comes back and gets angry on why Vi is with an enforcer, which is well within her rights considering how they literally killed countless of zaunites and people, but why not understand from Caitlyns side too? Jinx is a wanted criminal, she'd put a building on fire, killed people in the process, stole volatile items with possibly horrible intentions considering what her crimes are.
ANOTHER is the bridge scene with Jayce and Viktor with the riots, Why the fuck is Jayce calling them dangerous infront of viktor??? Hes well within his rights to be mad! But he isn't WRONG, And jayce is under a lot of stress, and viktor is literally going against him by taking shimmer, and God that list never ends.
Literally almost any other scene.
caitlyn Ekko & Vi , Vi and the Council , Vi and Jayce , Jinx and Vi on episode 9 , Silco and Jayce , Mel and Ambessa , Mel and Viktor, Mel and Jayce in some scenes (like when she put him on the council) , singed and Viktor , etc etc etc
Need i say more??
All of these characters are full of layer upon layer of writing, they're all so well written, their intentions, ideals, morals, are all bricks and pipes of what builds them as characters, but their flaws and nuance is the 'glue' of what keeps them standing too. They may have no choice but to do or say those things that they do or say, because if they don't, they will possibly crumble. But that does not mean it gives them a pass, in the end of the day,, murder is still murder, ignorance is still ignorance, manipulation is still manipulation, and etc. They're not all equally as horrible as the other, but that does not make them better qualities, comparing all these issues/problems and completely siding with one thing because you find A to be less horrible than B is not a good start to understanding Arcane or any show with a similar level of writing to it.
as usual, im sorry for any mistakes or if this is uncollected and full of reptitivness, I don't usually correct my rants or anything because they're like... rants... And im very sorry for nagging about certain things, some points may actually be wrong so please don't feel afraid to give advice or correct me over them NICELY. Other than that its really just my opinion, i just wanted to get the "understand characters from different views" & "sEpEraTe InTentIons FroM ActIons" points across.
#arcane#mel medarda#mel arcane#jayce talis#jayce arcane#ambessa medarda#jinx arcane#viktor league of legends#vi arcane#viktor#caitlyn kiramman#caitlyn arcane#ekko arcane#arcane silco#silco#I wonder how many times I said âflawedâ#This was literally in my drafts for two weeks because I was scared to post it#âReal quickâ it was infact#*fixes glasses* not really quick.#Literally who's gonna read this đ
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Not sure if you're interested, but if I can give my perspective on Kokichi's treatment as a certified actual compulsive liar, you're absolutely correct that the other characters are deeply hypocritical in how his lying is treated in comparison to others and that beyond being kind of annoying and kind of an asshole he really didn't do anything that bad up until chapter 4, but in my experience the way he's treated is very true to life and honestly hits me personally very hard because I relate. When people realize someone lies often even about mostly small and petty shit, it changes how they treat you and everything you say that they don't like is often written off as a lie, you being a known liar becomes the easiest excuse in the world to treat you poorly and gives people a convenient justification for disliking you. Himiko lying about her magic isn't treated the same because it's one thing she lies about (I'd argue for the sake of not breaking the illusion and ruining the wonder) and while they do get annoyed with her about it, mainly in chapter 2 where her refusal to be honest is actively being a hindrance to the investigation, it doesn't change their overall attitude toward her because it's still just the one thing and they kind of know how to work around it. As for Shuichi, I honestly am not sure how many members of the cast even really notice that Shuichi lies as often as he does, and even those who do probably find it easier to excuse because they can recognize that he's doing it to reach the truth, Kaito and Maki in particular find it easier to both excuse and play along with simply because they trust Shuichi's judgment. As far as Kokichi is concerned, they don't trust that he's lying for any good reason because they don't know why he's lying at all, because he does it constantly about both important and meaningless things which makes it easier to just assume that he's at best unreliable and at worst a threat. It is a flaw and it is hypothetical, but it's also eerily similar to how I was treated by my peers as a teen.
Anyway sorry for the rant I just have a lot of feeling and thoughts about Kokichi because he actually was the first time I saw a compulsive/pathological/whatever liar in fiction that wasn't treated by the narrative as just pure evil without any nuance or grey area, or some kind of high school mean girl (looking at you Miraculous Ladybug), and that had a really strong effect on me and allowed me to actually confront and cope with that part of myself.
Oh, I am VERY interested.
May just be the autism, but what lies the Danganronpa characters do and don't seem to care about seems entirely dependent on their pre-existing biases.
Sure, Kokichi lies about enjoying bugs during the meet and greet. But Kaede and Shuichi do the exact same thing in Gonta's intro, and its completely brushed off!
Considering how truth vs lies/fiction is one of v3's main themes, it feels like Kodaka is shooting his message in the foot.
As a whole, one of my major gripes with the franchise is that it has a serious problem with protagonist centered morality, and those problems are named Syo and Kaito.
I would argue that a lot of Kokichi's lies also play into his persona, and that he always has to "perform" in a sense due to his talent, if that makes sense. Himiko's skill as a performer wouldn't be questioned because of who she is offstage, but Kokichi's absolutely would. Then again, there's a lot of skepticism about Kokichi's talent in canon and in the fandom itself, so that could explain it.
People are weird. Danganronpa characters are even weirder.
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â â â đđđ đđ đđđđđđ đ đđđđ đđđđđđđ đđ đđ.
â â â Anyone who knows me or has rp with me knows how much I love building ambiguous â or grey, if you prefer â characters or villains. The drama, the chaos, the complex plot⌠It all makes everything more interesting, especially once you get bored of characters who are exclusively nice, naive and suchlike. Even so, it's a construction that needs to take several factors into account and be very delicately written so it doesn't become a trigger rather than a character.
â â â For this reason, below I've provided some tips on how to create villainous characters for rp, taking into account various traits, setting and also demystifying the fact that not every villain is a soulless monster. Anyway, on to the guide.
Deep and personal motivations.
â â â Convincing villains usually have compelling and understandable motivations, even if their actions are highly questionable. It's the premise of them being right in their quest, but using the wrong means to achieve it and ultimately losing their reason. This brings a sense of humanity and it's even possible to feel connected to what led this person to become a villain. You can truly see how they lost the way.
â â â Another point is the fact that not everyone wants to conquer the world, nor do they have the ambition to have a lot of money or power. Think of plots about revenge, twisted love, the quest for justice or fear. Generally, a character's deepest motivations give them more determination to fulfill their goals because it comes from something much more internal and traumatic. Give them a proper reason and make them lose the way, this is gonna make everything feel real, convincing and interesting to developed.
Moral complexity.
â â â The simple truth is the days of people liking completely cartoonish characters are long gone, and nowadays many people don't like those who are evil simply for the sake of being evil. This is because it's too out of touch with reality. Obviously there are people who are like that in real life, but the vast majority is more complex than this. Humans, in the end, are very complicated and, probably, will never truly understand why we are the way we are.
â â â To get away of this clichĂŠ and cartoonish form when creating your character, try to develop moral nuances and internal dilemmas which can explain their actions. Put a small fragment of morality in the character, make them question themselves a few times as to whether they're on the right path⌠Remember yin yang: there's a little tiny good inside the evil. This tip can be used for any character, when you think about it, but it's very important for those who want to create villains.
Human traits, personality and vulnerabilities.
â â â Like any human being, provide your character with traits unmistakably human, such as fears, insecurities or personal relationships that will impact them, to make them more realistic. Just because someone is doing something morally wrong doesn't mean they've lost all touch with their humanity, especially since not every villain is a psychopath who has no empathy for anyone. It's always very interesting when a character believes they're doing what's right or good for someone else, and this is their motivation.Â
â â â Also bring some weaknesses to the character, whether physical, emotional or psychological. This provides room for development and also ways for other characters to access them in a more specific way, either to get to know them better or to retaliate against them at some point.
â â â You know that line "Do you like my personality? I created it especially for you!"? Well, consider how the character behaves and bring in more layers when making the personality. Take into account how they behave in different situations and with different people.
Charisma and a magnetic nature.
â â â The fact is that bad guys aren't unbearable one hundred per cent of the time, they need to know how to live in society and captivate people. So define unique and appealing traits for the character, whether they're genuine or merely a façade. It's always interesting when, within the plot, most people don't know about the evil or wrong side of a character because it gives them more room for development. Maybe make them ashamed of what they're doing and try to hide it as best they can. And just think about real life: do we truly know the people around us?
Connection with other characters.
â â â Nobody lives completely alone since we're in a society and this makes us having connections, for more simple they can be. Thinking about that, create connections with other characters to bring more motivation and drama to your muse, such as an old rivalry, a complicated personal relationship or a surprising connection which generates tension. You can also create connections that actually bring their good side to light, you know? It's also always good to add a certain complexity, to have troubled moments, wounds that haven't healed fully, secrets being revelead, etc.
Questions for creating villains.
What are the character's main motivations?
What is the character's origin story? What led them to become what they are today?
What are the past traumas or events that have shaped their worldview?
How does the character justify their actions morally? Does they believe they are doing the right thing?
What are their weaknesses and vulnerabilities?
How does the character present themselves to the world? Are they masked, manipulative or showy?
What do they want to achieve through their actions?
What are their emotional reactions to obstacles and challenges?
How do they justify their actions to themselves? Is there any sense of internal validation?
How do they relate to the authorities or the law?
How do they see themselves? Do they see themselves as the hero of their own story?
How do they react when their plans fail?
What do they feel when faced with the possibility of redemption or change?
Other small (and important) advice!
Corruption arcs are also super interesting, leading a good character to become bad over time and through traumatic situations. Redemption arcs are also sensational. The point is: nobody was born a villain and nobody has to die a villain.
Leave clues indicating your character before fully revealing your motivations. Also try to leave some motivations completely secret, using them when the plot calls for a surprise. In the best "surprise, bitch!" style.
Think about how environment and culture can influence beliefs and actions.
A villain doesn't have to be a psychopath or murderer. There are arcs of revenge and corruption which can be created without going to such extremes.
It's obvious, but always respect other players and the limits they impose. As I said, a villain isn't always doing evil and being a complete asshole, so make sure you know what kind of approach the other person will prefer.
Always be careful when approaching topics which are triggers and avoid them as much as possible. As I said, it's not necessary to go down this route, but if you do, always keep a firm grounding when writing, because triggers are complex real-life situations that always need to be handled delicately.
The end, for now.
( Be with Morgana, my good girl gone bad ⥠)
#rph#rp help#rp resources#rp writing help#writing resources#writing help#writing advice#writingtips#rp guide
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I have not watched arcane but I follow enough people that do to have to general idea of what it's about and I am calling it right now the only reason this fandom demonize Vi is because they like Jinx and by extension Silco so all the bullshit ass enabling he did with Jinx for years will be forgotten because Vi punches her for killing everybody she ever loved and then the people in this fandom who don't have even a quarter of a brain cell to rub together will be like well Jinx suffered so much because of Vi because she had suicidal thoughts and see people meanwhile Vi deadass saw everyone she loved die in front of her, then lose her only remaining family to Silco and then spend her whole childhood in prison. Like the people in this fandom can't comprehend morally grey characters or even think that their faves can be complex people who can do bad things if the narrative shifts that way.
Look me in the eye and tell me these people have a single thought in their head while watching the show because the writers said these two seasons are the Jinx and Vi story. That they will probably make more arcane stuff but these seasons are focused on the sisters and so why do I see post like I wish Vi didn't have so much screen time or I wish Vi and Cait story wasn't the main focus here and the show focused more on "insert any background narrative they wanted to see" like bitch go fuck yourself.
Like I have never seen such a large group of people utterly incapable of media literacy it's like they need to be handfed concepts like:-
"A doomed narrative means no happy endings at most you get a bittersweet one"
"Your fave can be a bad person and still be your fave you don't have to justify them as a good or reasonable person (and demonize their equally traumatized sister looking at you weirdly purist Jinx fans) to continue liking them.
"Metaphors and parallels shouldn't be spoken or spelled out for you. You as a viewer are suppose to understand then yourself using your brain"
"Good people can do some bad things this doesn't make then irredeemable and bad people can do some good things this doesn't suddenly makes them fully redeemable"
"If a shows ending is ambiguous it doesn't mean the writers were too pussy to commit to a proper ending it means they purposefully made it ambiguous so their can be more than one interpretation for it"
"Not all good stories needs have good or even satisfying happily ever after usually in a doomed narrative you just survive to live another day"
"Just because someone's trauma manifest in a more visible way doesn't mean another characters didn't suffer at all (still looking at you Vi haters)"
To summarise do I think the people who can't see a nuanced story like arcane without generalizing everything in black and white and then complaining about how it's bad are all brainless idiots with the mental capacity of a third grader with no capacity for media literacy or reflection. Yes. Is it probably a baseless generalization. Probably. Do I care. No,fuck you'll and all your arcane hate post you all tricked me into reading by disguise them as actually analysis.
If I can pick up on the subtle nuances and non linear narrative of arcane by just reading Tumblr posts and watching some clips on YouTube you people have no reason to have this shitty of an opinion when you actually consumed the full media.
#arcane#jinx#jinx arcane#vi#vi arcane#caitlyn kiramman#caitvi#Saw arcane was trending and made the mistake of going to the tags rather than just liking the posts that were on my feed.#NEVER AGAIN#I haven't seen this little amount of media literacy from any fandom before#A literal child would have better takes then these so called analyst#Like have any of these people ever read a book or seen any other show before#Or was it their first time on earth interacting with anything of nuances that need them to actually think about what the story shows them#Rather than waiting for the it to be spelled out who the good guys are and whose side they should be on
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you're so right fr. there are so many incredibly written female characters in d2 but there's a mere insignificant pittance of fanworks around them. as a day 1 failsafe lover it drives me nuts how little people seem to care about her. like. maybe bungie was right the fanbase doesn't even see her. and Ada? Ana bray? Elsie? even Eris or ikora? they may as well not exist for how the fandom treats them. but crow is a twink (twunk?) so yknow
A Failsafe stan omg...I'm so sorry my liege you're in the fucking trenches and have my deepest sympathy. I remember when Echoes came out people were like 'eugh Failsafe's humour didn't age well' and I was like...buddy. Failsafe is fucking hilarious. The fact that people were complaining about her humour as if Cayde wasn't the personification of annoying 2014 funnyman is fucking insane to me. I'm convinced that the only reason why Cayde's humour isn't cringe to them while Failsafe and Nimbus's jokes are is bc Cayde is perceived as a cis straight man to the gamerbros (even if there's not a snowflake's chance in hell he is, and robots are inherently trans) while they aren't. And the other girls? Whatever. Practically don't exist as far as fandom is concerned. Again, the fact that Revenant has Eramis as one of the main players in the plot- a nuanced, morally grey old grouch- and yet there is almost NO fan content on her ain't just because Bungie's quality has been piledrived into the ground. It's because she's a woman and a lesbian and thus everything that SHE does is awful and annoying and irrational and hypocritical, when you KNOW that if she were a man, nobody would give a fuck. It would all be 'oooh babygirl I love his dramatic ass' and shit with people crying over how tragic 'he' is and whatnot. But bc Eramis isn't some conventionally attractive twink, it's just radio silence out here. Meanwhile Crow is just a member of the supporting cast, and yet almost all the fanart and fanworks seem to feature him. It's a goddamn travesty, and I'm saying that as someone who likes Crow!
You're wrong on one account tho, and it's that Eris DOES exist to the fandom- but only if it's in ship content with Drifter. Nothing else. Though half the time she's not even acting like Eris bc a lot of shippers seem to think that they're 'fixing' each other instead of bonding over ways to do batshit insane bs in their free time. All her other significant relationships? Out the window. Gotta pare them down to an enemies to lovers trope where slurs are seen as cute. Which is insane to me bc like...the thing that makes Drifter and her relationship great is the fact that they're both freaks, and yet many people seem to want them to fit the parameters of a normal relationship. Like my sister in the light those are two new guys at this point
#i personally dont care for the brays but thats bc they just bore me#minus rasputin and felwinter. but thats bc theyre ais#but like thats entirely bc of clovis proximity poisoning i think. their storylines are fun and then He shows up#anon#reply#eris/ikora oughhh....#save me eris/ikora#also on the topic of ikora: i rlly want more of her and osiris and her and misraaks and the nothing makes me sad#like pls theyre so interesting#i want a whole ikora arc stat
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i think i've mentioned The Magnus Archives before, but i wanted to talk about it again, in connection with Catra's redemption. The Magnus Archives is a fictional horror podcast with an overarching storyline and amazingly written characters.
[spoilers for TMA below]
one of the themes that was briefly explored in the final season was about forgiveness. it was a very brief moment but it really stuck with me so i'll share it with y'all.
this right here was so important. for context, one of the characters, Daisy Tonner, was a cop who frequently engaged in police brutality. there was nuance to this since she was an Avatar of the Hunt but simply put, she thought she was doing the right thing. regardless of her intentions, a lot of people were killed or grievously harmed by her. for similar reasons, she tries to kill Jon, the protagonist.
later after disconnecting from her entity, Daisy realizes her mistakes and feels painfully guilty about everything. she couldn't bring back the dead, she couldn't reverse anything that she had done. all she could do at that point was to just stop engaging in violence and try to be a better person.
she bonds with Jon after some time of mutual awkwardness. Jon, being lonely himself, wasn't entirely opposed to talking to her and they even form a friendship of sorts. for context, Jon has hurt people too and he could relate with Daisy's guilt and her attempts at redemption.
in the transcript i shared above, Jon is discussing her crimes with the other characters. the thing that was so refreshing about Daisy's redemption is that Jon wasn't forced to forgive her. she put him through an extremely traumatizing and agonizing situation that he couldn't forget. his trauma was taken seriously and while he had begun to consider Daisy as his friend, that doesn't mean he forgave her. and she knew that. she understood that she didn't deserve forgiveness, but she still worked on trying to be a better person.
and later on in the series, Jon even expresses his appreciation for her friendship and admits to wanting to say goodbye to her.
i feel like this is the best way to write a redemption arc. of course it's nice seeing the bad guy being forgiven and accepted by the other characters. but sometimes you have to acknowledge that some people go too far and while they deserve a redemption, they don't deserve forgiveness. the other characters can still appreciate and respect their attempts at redemption, and even become their friend but without being forced to forgive them.
contrast this to SPOP where literally all of the characters have to forgive Catra after everything she's done to them. it doesn't matter how much damage she caused, as soon as she expresses the tiniest bit of guilt, she is instantly forgiven. there's no question of how the other characters feel, their trauma is not valid.
also, i have a feeling that if any of the characters refused to forgive Catra, she would have immediately thrown a hissy fit and spiralled right back to square one. i mean, look at her reaction to Frosta punching her.
by the way, i want to add that Daisy was also a traumatized character. she was also a sympathetic antagonist and she was partially controlled by the Hunt (whether the entities controlled their avatars or not was an unanswered question but it was confirmed that the Avatars were at least 80% in control of themselves). but she still did what she did and no amount of tragic backstory could justify her actions. if only the writers of SPOP actually stopped to think this through, instead of just hyperfocusing on getting Catra and Adora together.
anyway, if you like cosmic/existential horror, lots of angst, deep psychological stuff, complex morally grey characters, and queer representation, i highly recommend TMA! it's the whole package.
#tma#the magnus archives#daisy tonner#jonathan sims#tma jon#tma daisy#tma spoilers#spop critical#spop salt#spop#spop criticism#spop discourse#she ra#anti catra#anti spop#anti catradora#anti c//a#antic//a#anticatra#anticatradora
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Mental Health in Media - Mikoto Kayano
Dissociative Identity Disorder, or DID, has a complicated history in media. It's often portrayed as dangerous, or something that makes the person violent, such as with the 'murderous alter*' trope. These portrayals treat people with DID, or systems, not as people with a disability, but as "crazy" or as people to be feared. And fear and lack of sympathy are the two main drivers of hatred.
Then, in mid-2020, an anime music project released called MILGRAM, focusing on ten prisoners all guilty of murder (loosely). And along with it came Mikoto Kayano.
Mikoto Kayano is the ninth prisoner of MILGRAM, and on the surface seems like an average young adult who has no clue what he did or why he's in prison. But in his first music video [1], it's revealed that one, he is a murderer, and two, he has DID. Some fans of the series, systems or otherwise, took issue to this portrayal, as it falls right back in to the murderous alter trope. But beyond just the content of the music video, there's a lot more to Mikoto and his "murderous" alter, dubbed "John" by the prison guard, that makes his case a lot more complicated.
Like all characters in MILGRAM, Mikoto is portrayed in a morally grey and nuanced light. But above that, there's more to his character than his crime. Mikoto has a past: he has a job, a family, hobbies, and motivations. He's portrayed as a person, not a monster. And what I love is his John also gets to speak for himself [2]. As presumably the protector** in his system, John kills to "save" Mikoto from the stress and trauma of his life. (Besides having an abusive childhood, it's implied he isn't in a great space at work, either.)
Heâs not the type of person who could do stuff like that! He always looks out for others, always reads the room, always tries to get along with people around him! He canât do stuff like that⌠He was on the verge of exploding! Thatâs why I was born. Itâs obvious, isnât it? [Mikoto] didnât do anything!
Mikoto/John isn't just some scary, cold-hearted killer. He's a human who's gone through so much and met his breaking point over and over. Allowing Mikoto to have this humanity, and John to have his own voice, are what allow this portrayal to rise above all of these tired tropes into something more complex.
But there are a few issues, of course. Besides falling into that trope in the first place, the depth of Mikoto's life outside of MILGRAM is shallow compared to the other prisoners. Both of his music videos focus very heavily on the fact that he has DID. With other prisoners, the audience gets to learn about their victim, the circumstances around the crime, and further information about their past. With Mikoto's music videos, there is little information on the victim or the circumstances leading up to the crime; everything is extremely broad. And little is known about his past, his family life, or even his trauma. To some, this could be disappointing to see his DID be the main focus of his crime.
But despite these gripes, many fans, especially systems within the MILGRAM community, love and appreciate Mikoto. He may not be considered perfect representation, but for people who have had their disability be constantly demonized, it's nice to see a character who's treated like a person.
Thank you for reading! I do not have DID or a DD myself, so everything here is either from research, personal accounts online, or info from my sister who has a DD -> @gxrogurl
Citations & *'s below:
Dissociative Disorders Information in the DSM-5 TR (p 491)
MeMe [The First Trial Music Video]
Second Voice Drama "Neoplasm" and Translations
*Alter - a part of a system, often having a unique name and personality
**Protector - an alter whose role is to protect the system from physical, emotional, or mental harm; some methods can be destructive, others are not
If anything seems incorrect, please let me know!
#mental health in media#milgram#milgram project#mikoto kayano#john kayano#kayano mikoto#dissociative identity disorder#did osdd#tw murder
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I made this for cara but thought I should use it to FINALLY make a proper pinned post on here! (image descriptions in alt text)
Hello everyone (:
I thought I'd use this to properly re-introduce myself. These days I have a lot going on irl, so I'm not as interactive on here as I used to be. However, I love making new friends and getting to know their projects :D Some of my most important friends are from here, even if most of them are no longer active on writeblr (we have migrated to discord), so if you think we'd vibe pls shoot me a message!!
What you can expect:
Started out as an artblr, then turned into a writeblr, now it's mostly me collecting inspiration, art and writing references, with some infrequent original writing wip/art posts â´ď¸ â more info about tags and writing below the cut â â´ď¸
â´ď¸ â #queer tag - I reblog a lot of queer related posts, particularly about aro/ace and gender related topics
â´ď¸ â #inspirational - art, writing, photography, nature/environmental issues related topics, history, paleontology, archaeology; things I find inspiring and fascinating :D
â´ď¸ â i love all of the creatures, fictional or real, but less in a "cute videos" and more in a "I love how our world works" type way. I worked at a wildlife sanctuary for a year after school and learned a lot there. one day i will be the forever home for an old cat nobody else wants
â´ď¸ â sometimes I still post art and or writing, though I guess there'll be more art on Cara if you wanna follow me there (less AI threat)
â´ď¸ â i study concept art, work as a freelance illustrator, and am currently working on my MA thesis project "Fragments of the Infinite"
â´ď¸ â my main wip novel (Dream's Shadow) is probably finally getting close to being Finished. Feels somewhat surreal. idk if it's even worth querying it because it really doesn't fit into the current publishing world but it's not actually finished yet anyway so... we can worry about that later
â´ď¸ â very into fantasy with cool worldbuilding in particular. don't much care for elves/dwarves/.. fantasy preindustrial england type worlds, but dungeon meshi is my current obsession so if it's deeply developed and interesting enough I don't really mind :)
â´ď¸ â hopepunk my most beloved! i do love when characters get put through the wringer to get to their hopeful ending though. Sometimes, things are tragic in a bittersweet way, and that is okay too
â´ď¸ â deeply nuanced, complicated, messy morally grey characters driving the narrative
I am open to tag games, but will probably only manage to respond to like 10% of them... it's not you, it's me
Always open for DMs or asks <3
I try to tag everything as well as I can, if i forget, ask to tag <3
If you're into TMA, I have a podcast/TMA blog @moth-song-archives; my rambling animals/shitposts/memes/other fandoms/... blog is @lirhin, and I have a dedicated art blog @siarvenart
a hopepunk dark fantasy story with creepy/horror elements set in another world; small scope that transitions into epic fantasy later on
Status: draft 6.5 completed at 141k; currently mini-beta round. First in a trilogy
â´ď¸ â1st, 2nd and 3rd person limited, present tense â´ď¸ â hopepunk, sibling dynamics, dysfunctional family, power of kindness & love, platonic love, queer characters, queer-embracing worldbuilding, mental & physical trauma, light & dark, secrets, tragedy, lies, betrayal, loss of innocence, holding on & letting go, cute creatures, (in)humanity, trees, religion & belief, growing up, monsters, dreams, nightmares.
When Ava and her parents arrive at the hospital, they find her older brother Ben in a deeply unnatural coma - and nobody can tell them what happened. Despite the magical abilities of the Asim Healers, there seems to be no way to save him. But then, why do they still keep him alive? As Ava slowly learns the magnitude of how terrible Ben's situation (and impossible his future) truly are, she finds herself embroiled in a larger conflict, ready to hook its claws into her as well. And the one person she cares about most - who always had her back - is gone. So despite everything, there's only really one choice: Find out how to save him and try anyways.
the travel journal of a young scientist, documenting the cultures, places, people and creatures she encounters on the way (art/text)
Status: storyboard/script 2nd draft completed; beta feedback
â´ď¸ â1st person present â´ď¸ â 66 double pages of art accompanied by ~10k text â´ď¸ â hopepunk, (body) horror, religion & belief, nihilism vs making your own meaning, platonic love, queer characters, queer-embracing worldbuilding, transitioning with magical body horror means, mental & physical trauma, light & dark, deep worldbuilding, eldritch monsters, loss of innocence, SO MANY creatures
Features: a tidally locked planet orbited by 5 moons and populated by giant eldritch monsters; two trans aroace main characters; body horror; so much art; the most gratuitous worldbuilding project; character driven narrative
When the fifth moon hatches during Thorn's own naming ritual, making her one of 2 people who saw it happen, she knows she's been chosen. But back at home, nobody believes what she saw, choosing to instead take the moon's disappearance as a sign of celebration as it mirrors religious scriptures. So Thorn sets out to find physical proof, and uses the opportunity to document her travels. She doesn't know that her view of the world will be thoroughly challenged, but she also doesn't know about the friends she'll make <3
I have various other wips, some of them are linked in my header. I'll return to them at some point, but these 2 are my current projects for 2024:)
#if you wanna connect on cara please come visit :3#now that i have finished this thing i feel like i can finally actually interact on there lmao#about me#pinned post#writeblr intro#writeblr#idek what i am hoping to accomplish with this but anyway yes XD
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Zenixâs little tangent in Episode 35⌠doesnât entirely make sense. Or at least I donât like parts of it and so Iâm gonna bitch.
Tw I speak a little bit about abuse and cults at the end.
Zenix: âIâm sure garroth told you⌠didnât he? How he found me? He must have⌠you were always his favorite. Isnât it funny how he found me around the same time the old Lord was murdered?â
Thatâs just the beginning of it, of course.
But⌠Zenix saying this doesnât really⌠fit.
SKs kill people in order to gain immortality (typically guards who kill their lords, but itâs established in episode 31, Criminal Brains, that itâs not only guards and not only lords). This is usually someone they knew in their human life, thatâs just how itâs always been with SKs, thatâs the whole⌠tragic romance of them. Whoever they dedicated their mortal life to will be the sacrifice to their immortal life.
Whether Zenix is saying he showed up in Phoenix drop shortly before or after he killed the lord is nothing to me, because either way, itâs clear they donât have that bond. Even Azura states that Zenix swore himself to GARROTH. And the later established lore that sks have permanently red eyes after killing their person doesnât even apply to Zenix in this case, because he had brown eyes the entire time we knew him, up until they clearly decided that he was the one who murdered the old lord and scrapped Vyladâs involvement.
Because up until this point⌠all evidence pointed to Vylad. From flashbacks of him standing outside of the old lordâs house with a flint and steel to Sasha basically outright saying it, everything has pointed at Vylad. And Iâm not saying twists are a negative, red herrings are fun, but nothing good ever comes when you mix jesson and red herrings⌠clearly. So this was just⌠not a good twist. Iâve been keeping track of a lot of stuff and there just wasnât enough for me to justify it as something pre-planned. But if someone else has another opinion Iâm happy to hear.
This is something they do a lot with Zenix. Even with the original reveal that he was a bad guy, they retconned Brendanâs statement of events to make him look worse. They turned Zenix using him like a human body shield into Zenix going out of his way to hurt Brendan, though it didnât need to be done. It just made him seem unnecessarily cruel.
And now theyâve retconned who killed the old lord to make Zenix look worse again. And I think this is because Jesson cannot cope with moral ambiguity.
Vylad and Zenix are the two most morally ambiguous characters up to this point. Zenix has an evil lean, no doubt, but a lot of his actions lack any known motivation, especially his kind actions, or moments when he does things that are objectively good but⌠we donât know why, in order for us to actually understand his moral compass. Sure he is evil-aligned, but he is clearly not fully evil. He has shades of grey⌠and so does Vylad. Vylad clearly has a good lean, but we donât know enough about him, and we know he is evil-aligned (he is shown to be peers with Gene and Sasha in earlier episodes) so itâs very⌠vague. Hazy. Morals? Questionable.
But then Jesson wentâ HOLD UP! Make Zenix explicitly bad by stating that he was the one to kill the old lord because he wanted immortality⌠and make Vylad explicitly good by stating that he was the one who hindered Zenix from killing more people.
It wss more interesting when Zenix was just some guy who did bad stuff and had an unknown backstory, and some people rooting for the good in him.
And when Vylad was spooky as fuck.
But thatâs too much nuance, give a clear morality to the gay men.
Dont make SKs interesting by giving Zenix red eyes for attempting to kill the man he dedicated his life to! No! Donât expand the lore by making it obvious that the reason that SKs have to kill their loved ones is to mirror cult/abuse tactics that distance the victims from any real support system they could have to escape! Dont give Zenix red eyes even though he failed at killing Garroth because the bond between them is irreparably damaged despite Garrothâs denial of it! Donât do that! Thatâs too much nuance!
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