#the parents are FIGHTING for the first half of this fic

[scary-grace]

Designated Villain (Chapter 2) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You loved BNHA's ending, mostly, but a few weeks after the last chapter is published, you get isekaied into BNHA on the day the story begins. That would be a dream come true, except you ended up in the body of a common criminal, and instead of enjoying life in your favorite fictional world, you find yourself struggling to survive in a world that's much crueler than you ever imagined. Armed with nothing more than BNHA Tumblr brainrot and a highly suspicious iPod Shuffle, you set out to fix the few things that are wrong with BNHA's ending. But as you learn more about the villains you hated and every change you make pushes the plot further off the canon storyline, it's not long before your feelings about the ending start to change. (cross-posted to Ao3)

(dividers by @cafekitsune)

Chapters: 1

Chapter 2

The noise inside your cell, which you share with five other women, is apocalyptically loud. Two of them are arguing over something, while a third eggs them on, and not only do you not care about whatever they’re fighting over, you need to be well out of the way when the fists start flying. You lie down on your bunk — the bottom bunk, because you’re at the absolute bottom of the pecking order — and stare up at the slats of the bunk above yours. You usually save practicing for quiet time, but you need to get better at remembering under pressure.

You take a deep breath and let it go. “Hi. My name is –”

Your real name gives you seizures if you try to say it, so you’ve been practicing calling yourself the name of the person whose body you stole. You’re practicing everything else, too. Your age is easiest to remember, since you’re twenty, same as you are in your world, and you’re the same height as you were in your world, too, as well as the same weight and the same blood type. Your body is basically identical to the one you have back home. That part is easy to remember. The next part is harder.

Your backstory in this world sucks, and not in the tragic sense. Your parents were dirt-poor drug addicts who took just enough care of you to avoid being reported for neglect, and you didn’t exactly pick up the slack. You were kind of filthy in school. You had bad manners. You made bad choices, but not bad enough that anyone offered to help you. And you didn’t do all that well academically. You can’t tell if the person whose body you live in was smart and just lazy about it, or if you’re trading off the knowledge you brought with you from your world right now. Smart or not, lazy or not, you were on your own by age sixteen. You dropped out of school. Since no one would hire you, you had to find some way to make money.

You aren’t quirkless, but your quirk is stupid — all you can do is generate small bursts of white light, none of which last for longer than three seconds. It’s not useful for anything but making a getaway, which you guess is good for a person who steals for a living. You’re not too good at stealing. You can’t count the number of times you’ve had to temporarily blind a shopkeeper in order to escape with whatever you snatched.

And that’s how you got your real rap sheet — while you’ve got a pile of theft charges that could probably stretch to the moon, your felonies are all for assault, which is what they call using your quirk on somebody in the act of committing a crime or resisting arrest. Nobody’s charged you yet for throwing up a flash in Kamui Woods’s face, but it’s only a matter of time, isn’t it? They’ve held you without charges for a month and a half. Something has to happen soon.

“Talking to yourself, huh?” The newest prisoner in the cell plops down on the end of your bunk without asking permission, and you almost jump out of your skin. “I don’t blame you. Places like this mess with your mind. First time in?”

“Yes,” you say — but that’s not true for the person whose body you’re in. “No. I’ve never been in one this big before.”

“Which ones have you been in?”

You’ve been in jail before, in Aomori and Kurouzu and Oshima and Shiroiwa. The new cellmate shakes her head as you list them off. “That’s nothing compared to this place,” she says. “Prefectural jail is a whole new ballgame. Only place worse is prison. Ever been?”

You shake your head. “What about you?”

“Honey, I’ve been in more times than you can count,” your new cellmate says, and laughs. She extends a hand to shake. “Hiikishi. Nice to meet you.”

That last name rings a faint bell in your head, but not enough to merit notice. You’re too busy trying to remember your own name. You say it, then shake Hiikishi’s hand. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“Now that we’re friends, let me offer you a little piece of advice,” Hiikishi says. She flicks a few strands of her dark auburn hair over her shoulders. “Cut the talking to yourself, and try to look a little meaner. These clowns are nothing, but if you get moved to a tougher cell, you won’t be anything but fresh meat.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You sit up, narrowly avoiding banging your head on the bunk above you. “I won’t be here much longer. They’re charging me soon.”

“How long have you been in?” Hiikishi raises her eyebrows. You tell her, and she gives you a sly look. “What did they arrest you for?”

“Skipping a warrant, resisting arrest, unauthorized quirk usage, and assault on the hero who tried to capture me.” Your face burns with shame when you think about it. You were so stupid to run. Why did you have to make things worse for yourself? “That’s pretty bad, right?”

“I’d say yes. You should have been on your way to prison a month ago,” Hiikishi says. Your stomach ties itself in a knot. “Did anything — untoward — happen while they were capturing you?”

Untoward? “They didn’t, like, assault me,” you say, offended. “Heroes don’t do that.”

“Heroes do whatever they want,” Hiikishi says. “What happened?”

“I got knocked out a window,” you say. Hiikishi gestures for you to elaborate. “From four stories up.”

She whistles. “Did somebody see?”

“There was a guy taking pictures.” It clicks for you, suddenly. “They’re worried it’ll come out if I go to trial?”

“Damn right it’ll come out. As soon as you’re formally charged, those pictures will hit the internet,” Hiikishi says. “Nothing matters more to a so-called hero than their reputation, and actually killing criminals — especially little slips of a thing like you — looks bad.”

“I didn’t die, though,” you say. That’s true. You didn’t die. “I guess I came close. And nothing I did to the hero was permanent. So if they’re not going to charge me –”

“They’ll keep you in here as long as possible, to keep you off the street and keep crime down,” Hiikishi says, yawning. “When this place gets overcrowded, like it is right now, they’ll let you out. You’ll be back in soon enough.”

“No, I won’t.” As soon as you’re out of here, you’re getting on the straight and narrow and staying there for the rest of your life. “I’m never coming back here.”

“That’s cute.” Hiikishi pats your leg. “Keep telling yourself that, babe. Now clear out.”

“Huh?”

“I’m a bottom-bunk kind of girl. Get up top.”

Back in your world, when you were still you instead of a stupid, reckless criminal, you’d have demurred by default. Said you were okay, said it was fine. But you’re an opportunist these days, and Hiikishi can absolutely kick your ass if you say no. Bottom bunk to top bunk is a promotion, honestly. You scramble up without another word.

One of the other cellmates notices. “Get down from there. If anybody gets a top bunk, it’s me.”

The urge to back down wells up, but so does frustration, anger. “I’ve been in here longer than you. It’s mine.”

“Oh yeah, you little shit?” The cellmate crosses the cell and starts partway up the ladder. “I’ll drag you down from there, brat. Who do you think you are?”

Somebody who doesn’t want her nose broken, who’s going to climb down in a hurry — but Hiikishi’s words echo in your head. Fresh meat. You hold your ground, and when the cellmate’s head appears over the edge of the bed, you clamp one hand down over her face and throw a flash.

Your flashes aren’t all that bright, but they’re effective at close range. The cellmate yelps and tumbles backwards off the ladder. “I’ve got more where that came from,” you say, trying to sound threatening. “You’ll run out of eyesight way before I run out of these.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I’ve already got assault convictions,” you say. “Against heroes. You think I care at all about what I do to you?”

The cellmate on the floor is scrubbing at her eyes. The other three exchange glances, and you feel a sick stab of guilt. It doesn’t matter where you sleep. You could have just climbed down — should have just climbed down. Why did you hurt her? Hurting her isn’t the choice a good person makes. It’s the choice of a bad person. A villain. And all it’s done is made you enemies. You’re going to sleep with one eye open tonight.

A hand appears over the edge of the bed and taps your leg. “Nice work,” Hiikishi says. You squeeze your eyes shut.

It’s not a quiet night. A new transport of prisoners has arrived from other towns in the prefecture, and the cell block is noisy and jam-packed, chaotic from when the lights switch off to when they come back on. It’s a mess, but after a month and a half in jail, you know the drill.

Wake-up is half an hour before dawn, so they can herd everybody to the showers in shifts. The showers are communal, which means more people have seen you naked now than you could ever have imagined, even in your worst nightmares. When you tried to keep your towel on, the other inmates stole it. Meals are fed to you in a cafeteria twice per day, and you get a snack midday, like you’re in primary school or something. You get some time in the yard, which is a tiny, narrow box bricked in on either by the men’s wing and the women’s wing, and separated from the rest of the world by a high, electrified fence. Prisoners who behave and who don’t have dangerous quirks get time in the rec room every week, where there’s a TV and a bookshelf with books you can check out — if you behave, and if you don’t have a dangerous quirk.

Your other cellmates are all on notice, but Hiikishi hasn’t had time to get in trouble yet. “I gotta behave while I’m in here,” she says two weeks after she arrives, as the two of you walk to the rec room with the others in your cell block who’ve been approved. “They’ll quit giving me my meds if I don’t.”

“That can’t be right,” you say. Hiikishi gives you a long-suffering look. “It’s medicine. You need it to survive!”

“They don’t think so,” Hiikishi says. You look askance at her. She sighs and lowers her voice — which is pretty low to begin with. “Do I have to spell it out, honey? It’s E.”

E. Estrogen. Hiikishi’s on estrogen? Your surprise must show on your face, because Hiikishi sighs again. “You’re a little slow, huh? Or I pass better than I thought.”

“That one,” you say. Something is pulling hard at the back of your mind, but you can’t think about it right now. You need to be alert, or you might end up micro-aggressing Hiikishi to hell and back. “Sorry. I just — it’s medicine. They don’t get to withhold it if you mess up. They wouldn’t withhold mine.”

You’ve been on anticonvulsants since you were released from the hospital. Nobody wants you to have another seizure, including you, but you don’t need medicine to prevent them. All you have to do is quit trying to tell people about the isekai thing. “You’d be surprised,” Hiikishi says. The two of you have slowed down, enough that a guard gives you a shove and smacks Hiikishi in the hip with the barrel of his gun. “Hey. At least buy me dinner first, or I might have to take that toy away.”

“Nice try. I know how that quirk of yours works. My gun is safe.”

“Sure,” Hiikishi says. She picks up the pace, and as she passes you, you hear her mumble something under her breath. “But you aren’t.”

You don’t know what Hiikishi’s quirk is. It’s easy to tell for most of the inmates because of the different ways the guards handle them, but hers must be something weird. She’s in a mood now, so you give her space in the rec room. She heads for the TV, and you go for the bookshelf, wondering if there’s going to be anything new.

Some of the books are the same as books from your world, but all of those are old — Pride and Prejudice, Dracula, a Shakespeare play here or there, along with a bunch of titles in Japanese you aren’t familiar with. You can read them now, though, and you’ve read a few. Even the old books you’ve never read remind you of home, because they were all written before there were quirks. And because they’re good. Books written after quirks are kind of…boring.

You’ve read a lot of the good ones, but new titles get added every so often, and there’s a new one today. It was originally written in English — you can tell by the author’s name — but someone translated it, and made some edits, based on the title. You crack it open for the publication date: 1906. Perfect. It’s something new to read. It doesn’t matter that the summary makes absolutely no sense. Maybe that’s just the translation.

You check the book out, sit down, and read until the rec period is over. Hiikishi falls into step beside you on the walk back to your cell. “Celebrity Bachelor Japan was boring. He kicked the cutest girl off the show,” she complains. “What have you got there?”

You hold out the book and she inspects the cover. “The Night Land: A Story Retold. What’s it about?”

“It’s a little weird. Not sexy weird,” you clarify when Hiikishi raises her eyebrows. “There’s this guy, and he meets this girl. But then she dies.”

“Sad.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “But then he starts having all these really weird dreams — not sexy dreams — about the future. And the future is –”

You only made it partway into Chapter 2 before rec ended, and the impression you’ve gotten so far is “bad”. But before you can head off Hiikishi’s incoming joke about whether it’s a sexy future, an excruciatingly loud alarm goes off, so loud that you drop the book to cover your ears. It doesn’t help even slightly. You let your hands fall, crouch down, and snatch up the book again. “Fire alarm,” a guard hollers above the noise. “This is not a drill. Follow the evacuation plan –”

What evacuation plan? You’ve been here for a month and a half, and nobody’s ever said anything like that to you — but if there’s a fire, you need to be outside. Hiikishi’s thinking the same way. She grabs your arm, yanks you around, and starts pulling you towards the stairs that lead to ground level.

The two of you aren’t the only ones who’ve had the idea. The staircase is packed with inmates and with guards, so much that it’s difficult to move forward. Going back isn’t an option; more and more people are piling up behind you, all of them shoving hard for the door — which is locked. “Unlock it!” someone screams from the front of the crowd, in a voice that sounds oddly strangled. “Do you want us to die?”

“Fuck this,” someone else snaps. You don’t see what they do, but whatever it is, the door opens onto the rec yard, and people spill forwards in a wave.

You were hoping to find open space, room to breathe, but the rec yard is already crowded. “Shit,” Hiikishi snarls. “Arms up, now!”

You put them up. “Not that far! Like you’re boxing,” Hiikishi orders. You lower them slightly. You’re still holding the book. “Stay on your feet. We have to get to the fence.”

“It’s electric,” you protest. People are pressing in around you on all sides. Hiikishi is shoving and throwing elbows, trying to clear a path to move along the wall. “We’ll get shocked –”

“It’ll be faster than the fire,” Hiikishi says grimly. “Faster than this, too.”

The air around you is hot. You can smell smoke, but worst of all, you can smell sweat. You keep your arms up, but the pressure is increasing against your back, against your sides, even as you try to follow Hiikishi. You’re still moving, however slightly. The woman next to you isn’t moving at all. Her arms are down at her sides, her mouth open. Her gasps for air take on a weird, rusty quality, and a moment later, you hear a dull snap, followed by another. As you watch in horror, the woman’s chest deforms, and she crumples, falling to her knees. People tumble forward into the space she left, and in the second before she disappears entirely, you see someone’s foot come down on her head, crushing it inwards.

You scream. You can’t help it, and soon you’re not the only one. People are screaming all through the yard, women and men, and underneath it all you hear the strange gasps, the dull snaps. People are dying here. People are being crushed to death where they stand, trampled when they fall, and while you’re almost at the edge of the crowd, there’s only unforgiving brick in front of you. If the crowd falls the other way, they’ll crush you against it.

“Come on,” Hiikishi snarls. She grabs you and yanks you up against the wall with a grunt of effort. “The fence is off. You’re gonna clear a path.”

“I can’t make it.” You’re going to die here, burned to death or crushed flat. Why were you even brought to this world? Did you come here just to die horribly? “Even if I could, other people — it would collapse –”

“Fuck them. It’s them or us.” Hiikishi spins you so your back’s to the gate, then plants one hand in the middle of your chest. “I’m picking us.”

You have a split second to protest before you’re thrown backwards with incredible force. Your feet are off the ground, the left side of your body scraped raw against the bricks, and every time you shove past someone, the crowd collapses inwards. Hiikishi is following the path you cleared, and she’s not the only one. How is she throwing you? You come to a stop. She catches up, smacks you in the chest again, and throws you harder. You’re close enough to the gate to hit it at close to full speed, striking so quickly and sharply that the chicken wire bends outwards, then rips free of the frame. Your skin is torn to shreds as Hiikishi’s quirk forces you through the gate, and you skid another twenty feet, hands still up, still holding your stupid book. Maybe you hit your head or something, but it looks like you’re glowing. Glowing pink.          

The noise of the crowd is even worse now. When you look back, you can see people pressed against the fence, their bodies deforming just like the woman’s did, but Hiikishi’s forcing herself through the gap you left in the corner of the fence. She’s not the only one. Two more inmates follow her, and then a guard. Before the guard can get to his feet, Hiikishi kicks him in the side of the head, so hard that his helmet flies off and his sunglasses dislodge from his face.

“Teach you to hit me,” she spits. She crouches down and picks up the sunglasses, taking the time to brush them off even as more people struggle to squeeze through the fence. She puts them on, then turns to face you. “What do you think, honey? Are they my color?”

You nod, but your mind’s running a thousand miles a minute, piecing together the details — the pink light that surrounded you, the way she threw you, the auburn hair and the E and the sunglasses. You didn’t notice, because you didn’t pay much attention to the villain-centric chapters and episodes of BNHA, but you should have seen. Not Hiikishi. “Magne?”

“That’s me.” Magne strides past you, looking totally at peace, as if she’s already forgotten the horror unfolding behind the fence. “If you wanted out of here, now’s your chance.”

Escape? You could escape. You’re on the grounds, with no guards. Your clothes are ripped to shreds on one side and you’re missing a shoe, but — “The others,” you say. “We should –”

“You want to go back up to that fence like some hero? Stand there while it falls in on you?” Magne turns, grabs your arm, and hauls you up. “Them or you, babe. Choose you.”        

She drops your arm and bolts. You stay frozen for just a few seconds more. You. It has to be you. You turn and run towards the edge of the complex, just like the others who made it through the fence, just like Magne. Just like the other criminals. Just like every other selfish person, who’s leaving so many others to die. The screams and groans fill your ears, the worst sounds you’ve ever heard, and tears sting your eyes even as bile rises in the back of your throat. You have to stop to vomit twice before you clear the edge of the complex. But you don’t turn back.

The other escapees scatter. You lose track of Magne, and although you want to find her, some instinct left over from the person who was here before tells you that she’s done helping you. It’s time for you to help yourself, and the person who was here before knows how.

She knows where to find clothes, because your jail coveralls stand out like a sore thumb, even in the dark. She knows how to pay for clothes, too, even though you don’t have any money. You end up with a bad taste in your mouth and a long coat, black and hooded, that’s way too big for you but covers your inmate’s clothing completely. That’s a good start. Enough to get you deeper into the city and onto a train. The person who was here before might not have a home address, but she had a home base, and it’s not here.

It’s three hours’ ride on the train. You realize you’re still holding the book from the jail library and tuck it away into the largest pocket of your coat. That gives you the idea to search the other pockets, and you do, coming up with spare change, a couple of receipts, and a set of headphones. The headphones would be great if you had music to listen to, but you don’t. All you have are the sound of screams, echoing through your mind, and the dull snaps of bones breaking burrowing into your ears.

You can’t get what you saw out of your head. No matter what else you try to think about, it’s there, and if you’re able to distract yourself for even a second, it comes right back the instant you let your guard down. You fumble the book back out of your pocket and reopen it to the very beginning, starting with the foreword you skipped. It doesn’t quiet your mind enough, so you give yourself another task – translation into your native language from Japanese, one sentence at a time. It slows you down enough that you don’t faint or vomit, and by the time your train comes to a stop in Niigata, your mind feels focused enough to get yourself back to base.

First stop is a bank of storage lockers in the station. It takes you a second to find the combination in the memories that aren’t yours, but once you get it open, you find a backpack and a duffel bag, both of which you take to the bathroom to sort through in one of the handicapped stalls. As if you needed anything else to feel guilty about. You console yourself with the thought that you’ll be fast and get to work.

There’s clothing in the duffel bag, and shoes, but there’s also a skeletal first aid kit, and a decent amount of money. There’s also some kind of support gear – a pair of goggles and a mask that would cover the lower half of your face, like you’re on Naruto or something. When you dig further through the bag, you find prepackaged food, too. In some ways it reminds you of the things you put in your backpack at school, which your friends used to joke doubled as a starter kit for the apocalypse. You and the person whose place you took have something in common other than your height, age, weight, and blood type: You both like to be prepared for anything.

You can go through the backpack later. You switch out your clothes, grimacing as you reopen every scrape and scratch on your body, and put on the pair of shoes. You think about leaving the coat behind with the coveralls, but you didn’t steal it, you earned it. After what you had to do to earn it, you’re not letting it go. You throw the coveralls in the trash on your way out and pick your way through Niigata’s streets, heading for the bad side of town.

The capsule hotel might have been a nice place once. As it is, your memories tell you that it’s a known way station for people on the wrong side of the law. In spite of that, the cops don’t go in often. They can’t verify exactly who’s in there, and they don’t want any nasty surprises. Maybe that’s why you feel your shoulders relax the instant you step through the door, why you feel safe haggling a little with the person at the front desk, why you believe her, just a little, when she says she’s glad you’re back. She gives you your usual capsule, and you settle in for what’s left of the night.

It takes a little while to get the water running in the shower so you can rinse the dirt out of your scrapes, and the water is freezing-cold and weird-tasting when you let some of it run down your throat. There’s a couple hooking up in the supply closet – a couple, or maybe not – and some part of you is grossed out. The rest of you remembers how you got your coat and spends a little while dry-heaving in the sink.

You swore you wouldn’t commit any more crimes, but since the fire alarm went off at the Shizuoka prefectural jail, you’ve committed half a dozen at least. You might have rented this place legally, and the clothes on your back and the contents of the duffel and backpack might belong to you, but you got the coat through less than legal means. Worse than that, you broke out of jail, and helped other people do it. And now you’re on the run. Even if you never slip up again, you’ll still be carrying every last one of those mistakes, forever.

You’ve ruined everything. Whatever was left of everything to ruin. The person whose place you took did a great job ruining most of it already.

You want to go home. Home where you’re not a criminal, where nobody’s hunting you, where nobody gets crushed to death in a prison yard – home where you’ve got friends and a family and a whole life ahead of you that was starting to look pretty good. Do people who get isekaied ever get to go home? If you landed in the body of someone who died here, did you die in your world, too? Maybe if you figure out why you were brought here, you can fix whatever you’re supposed to fix, and then whatever brought you here will let you go home. But what could you possibly need to fix? There’s nothing wrong with how BNHA ended.

You can’t think about it anymore. You’ll go insane. But even as you curl up inside your capsule, willing your mind to go blank, a plan settles slowly into your head. You need to find out why you were brought here. That’s the most important thing. You can’t find that out if you’re in jail, so the next most important thing is to stay out of jail. No matter what you have to do to make that happen.

You feel a twinge of unease at the thought, but you shove it away. You’re not stupid. You can stay out of jail without committing any more crimes. No matter what the person whose place you took did before, you can still find a way to be good.

<- part 1

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[siderealscribblings]

8 Years, 7 Months, 3 Days - Loch Urania

"What's taking them so long?" Furina asked for the eighteenth time that hour. "I've been calling to them since dawn; where are they?” 

"Perhaps Oceanids don't share your respect for punctuality ," Neuvillette sighed, beginning to feel some of Furina's irritation. In truth, they had waited eight years for this occasion; arranging a formal meeting with a disembodied swarm of water spirits proved to be a task a decade in the making. There was no formal embassy to petition, no Oceanid capitol to send summons to, and seemingly no way to communicate with fickle creatures whose presence had quickly become part of myth. Loch Urania had once been a sacred grove for the Oceanids in Egeria's time; now it was the site of a desperate plea for faltering allegiance. 

I told her this was a waste of time, Neuvillette thought, but in true Furina fashion, she deliberately ignored him. She was still holding on to their endorsement as the feather in her cap that would cement her legitimacy. Their absence since the Calamity had been noted; Furina was excruciatingly aware of every ugly whisper in court that wondered why the Oceanids had disappeared as soon as their new archon had taken the throne. The longer they were silent, the more desperate Furina became to secure their approval, much to Neuvillette's increasing frustration.

("It's been almost a decade," Neuvillette reminded her after another doomed attempt to make her see reason. "If they were going to support you they would be supporting you already." 

"Let me concern myself with the loyalty of my subjects." Furina sniffed dismissively. "Don't you have anything better to do than rain on my parade?")

Their partnership had deteriorated to the point that if Neuvillette suggested Furina's favorite cake for dessert, she would suddenly be in the mood for pie. She had always been willful but as Neuvillette's powers slowly returned to him, her own lack of power made her desperate to assert dominance in their relationship. The more he tried to caution her against putting all her eggs in the Oceanids' basket, the more she doubled down on her insistence that their cooperation was necessary for their success. 

And when she gets her heart broken, it will be my fault yet again, Neuvillette thought with scowl. 

"Hello?!" Furina called, stepping into the chilly lake until the water covered her socks. "Excuse me?! It is rude to keep your Archon waiting, you know?!" 

Silence rebuffed her, the waters showing no sign of rising in the form of an Oceanid. It was almost funny, the sight of Furina discovering that her snooty, high-handed authoritarianism had no effect on creatures that had swam the waters of the world for millennia. Even the Oceanids had the dignity not to bow to this little not-Archon ; dignity that had been stripped from Neuvillette, along with the bulk of his former power. 

"I don't think lake spirits are interested in how long you've been waiting," Neuvillette said. "No matter how insistently you shout at them." 

"And how many lake spirits have you met, monsieur?" Furina asked, swiveling her hips around to glare back at him. 

"I am a lake spirit-"

"And the last of a species who barely knows himself," Furina countered. "So hardly an expert on the subject." 

"...fine, objection withdrawn," Neuvillette sighed, not wanting to get into another argument with Furina. "By all means, carry on yelling at the water." 

"Are you making fun of me?" 

"Are you not yelling at a lake?" 

"I-I am attempting to commune with my beloved AND VERY TARDY SUBJECTS!" Furina shouted the last part at the lake. "Perhaps my dearly cherished Oceanid children would like to MEET THEIR NEW ARCHON who has come A VERY LONG WAY and has waited A VERY LONG TIME...TO MAKE…THEIR MOST PLEASANT…ACQUAINTANCE!" 

Furina's voice rattled the reeds on the far shore, but after the echo faded she was left in silence once again.

"As I said; yelling…at a lake," Neuvillette sniffed as Furina sternly glared at the water's surface. "You're going to freeze to death before these creatures deign to reply to you." 

"Oh, and I suppose you think you'd have better luck?" Furina scoffed. "Egeria's children are my subjects; I don't recall any mention of them attending the Hydro Dragon." 

"They're not attending her successor either," Neuvillette said. "Spirits are commanded by nothing but power; not mortal power either, which seems to be the only power you have."

"Well my 'mortal power' is good enough to command the Hydro Dragon," Furina said, smirk widening as Neuvillette's scowl deepened. 

" You have my cooperation; not my obedience," Neuvillette reminded her. "But by all means, keep stamping your feet and demanding things of spirits older and more dignified than you are. Perhaps the Oceanids will obey you if you insist hard enough-" 

"That will do" Furina said icily, refusing to meet his eyes. "Your presence here must be frightening them; go inform the Captain that I will be communing with the Oceanids for the rest of the day...and while you're at it stay up there and keep your sour opinions to yourself." 

"As you command," Neuvillette growled, turning and marching up the path. "You can either freeze to death or join us when you are willing to face reality." 

Read More...

[chaos-bringer-13]

Soup time is when a ghost is sucked into a soup thermos, of course! :D

You're absolutely right btw, this is about Danny Phantom

The Viewers

Danny and Tucker move in together for college in Gotham

Tucker decided to make tiktoks just for fun, he could teach people about technology and help give tips.

He didn't realize that his viewers could see Danny in the background in some clips.

Danny being Danny was never caught doing something normal instead it was always something weird.

~

Tucker: "So you just switch this piece here-"

Danny in the background more than half his body in the fridge, the fridge is very noticeably growling

Tucker who is so used to it, it doesn't even register in his mind that it's not normal.

~

Tucker fan-boying about the new Wayne tech

His viewers looking behind him at Danny

Danny running around fighting his food which is also growling & flying

~

Tucker modifying his tech for the viewers

Danny's voice in the distance: "Bye Tuck, I need to go soup this guy real quick!"

Viewers: "Cannibalism?!"

~

Tucker: "Ah yes a very normal video!"

His viewers watching Danny:

~

Just an Idea

[writingsbychlo]

BUY ME PRESENTS | draco malfoy

summary; draco loves you, and you love him. he just needs a little push to make things official. OR, draco malfoy fighting for his life when he realises just how much everyone wants his girl.

word count; 8928

notes; this is based on christmas eve, but I'm posted a couple days later! this fic puts us half way through our slytherin boy holidays! I'm not sure how the one I expected to be the shortest became the longest one so far. like, seriously, I know I keep saying this but wtf? why can't I write a short fic?

Dinner had already been served by the time you made it to the Grand Hall, the smells of roasted meats and seasoned potatoes filling the air, your mouth watering as you navigated between the throngs of people. Your seat had been saved, of course. A spot on the bench between Draco and Daphne, and as you neared, your friends noticed, smiles rising and waves in your direction. 

Sinking into your seat, you pressed a kiss to the cheek of the blond boy beside you, his face tipping up to receive it and lips twisting into a smile, attention moving to you as you sat. 

“Good day?”

“Better now that it’s over.” You smiled, a chuckle falling from him, and his hand came to rest upon your thigh, squeezing comfortingly while you helped yourself to a plate of whatever food was left. “What are we talking about, what did I miss?”

“Not much. Just Theo telling us all about Christmas in Italy.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, as though you all hadn't heard this exact same speech since that very first Christmas you’d become friends. Most of the group seemed to have simply tuned it out, laughing and nodding at the correct times as they whispered their own conversations. 

A swipe of a thumb over your thigh as you finished filling your plate with food, and you shifted your attention to Draco. “So, what are your Christmas plans, Dray?”

Shuffling a little bit closer now that your plate was full, his arm moved to lay across your shoulders instead, letting you snuggle up into his side. “Oh, you know, the usual.” 

He smiled, and your world seemed to get a little bit brighter, his lips brushing your hairline as he left a barely-present kiss there. 

“Typical Malfoy-family Christmas. I get to do the tour with my parents, visiting every other rich-arsehole couple they know. Christmas Eve party. The pleasure of my father’s annual ‘you’re growing up now, son, it’s time to get serious about the world’ over the dinner table on Christmas Day. Open some presents I don’t want, on a schedule I don’t like.” He sighed, clearly used to it by now, but it didn’t make it sound any less awful.

“Well,” You smile, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Maybe we could write to one another, or even get a little visit in?” 

The hope in your voice was evident, and Pansy gave you an encouraging smile across the table. You’d been meaning to ask Draco this question for weeks now, and your last chance had been fast approaching. Since the summer, you and Draco had been hooking up. It was no secret among your friends, or even the students; your affections for one another were hardly contained, but it wasn't official. 

You wanted the labels, the security, and the safety of knowing that he was yours and you were his, and nobody else could come between you. You wanted to be introduced to his parents, be his date at events, to have him be proud to call you his girl. But Draco had been hesitant, avoiding every conversation that might inch into the ‘so, what are we?’ territory, keeping a safe distance from any kind of real commitment. 

It wasn’t enough for you anymore, not by a long shot, but trying to talk to Draco about it only ended up with him shutting it down, or skilfully diverting the conversation and you were growing tired of his games. 

Draco only made a vague noise, neither an agreement nor disagreement, and looked away from you as he picked up his drink to take a sip. “I don’t know… maybe. I can get pretty busy over the holidays, I’d hate to let you down.”

Another skill of his, making it seem like cancelling or delaying or not doing something at all was your idea. He was clearly hoping you’d brush it off, and tell him not to worry about it, but instead, you kept quiet. Not giving him the satisfaction of any easy win, this time. 

Pansy caught your eye across the table, shaking her head disapprovingly, and shooting a glare at an oblivious Draco. She had been your confidant these last few months, every update and development in your situationship, she’d been informed of. Every decision, she’d been a part of. She was practically as invested as you were, at this point, and she certainly did not approve of his nonchalant behaviour either. 

“Speaking of parties,” Mattheo cut Theo off, clearly having had enough of the annual rehashing of ‘that one Christmas when Theo was eight’ for today, and changing the subject, “Who’s got their dates sorted for the Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball, and who’s daring to go solo and have Narcissa set them up like a matchmaker all night long?”

Chuckles rang out among the group, and Pansy smiled, leaning into Blaise’s side with a love-struck grin. “I think we’re safe this year.”

“I’m going solo, but, I did tell Aunty Cissa that I have my eye on a girl in one of my classes, and I’m seeing how it plays out. So, she���s not setting me up anytime soon, since she believes I’m already onto someone.” Enzo smirked, and Blaise congratulated him for his clever tactics. 

You smirked through your mouthful of food, listening to Mattheo explain his complex excuse, to Reggie mournfully spill the story of how he’s already been set up by his parents witha ‘potential bride to meet’, and how he hopes she doesn’t show up. You laugh with the others as Tom simply raises an eyebrow, knowing that even Narcissa doesn’t attempt to set him up anymore, lest he scare away any more of her friends’ daughters. Theo, ever the player he is, is looking forward to dancing with every single lady he can find, and taking his pick at the end of the night.

“I suppose nobody needs to ask Draco who his date will be.” Mattheo grins, wiggling his brows at the pair of you as you smile, leaning a little further into the man at your side. 

“Hey, who knows?” He chortles, and your eyes narrow a little, “I’ve had plenty of offers. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“Oooh.” Enzo’s eyes went wide, the other boys joining in, and Pansy fixed him with a glare. Daphne leaned around you with her jaw dropped at his statement, and you sat up from his embrace, lips pressed flat and a brow raised. 

The boys snickered, ‘he’s in shit’ and ‘someone’s in the doghouse’, but he lived for the spotlight, a drama queen at heart, and he smirked down at you. 

“Oh, c’mon. Don’t look at me like that, babe.” The playful nickname was one he only ever used when joking around. When he was sincere, he was much more romantic; darling, sweetheart, beautiful. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hi mum, hello father, meet the girl I’m skipping class to shag! Thanks for paying my tuition!’, I don’t think so.”

The boys all laughed, Daphne scoffed in sync with her sister behind you, and Pansy looked like she’d lunge across the table at any moment, if it wasn’t for her chastising Blaise for laughing, instead. ‘You and Draco can share that couch you’ll both be sleeping on tonight’, she’d said. ‘See how funny you think it is then’.

The words stung as he spoke them, dismantling your relationship down to the bare minimum; to sex and physical connection and nothing else. Like the nights spent talking until the sun came up were nothing, the times you’d held him while he cried, or washed him in the bath when he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open. Like he didn’t rub your stomach for hours every month when you got cramps, or had a stash of your favourite snacks in his bedside table for whenever you came over. 

You knew that Draco Malfoy lived you, just as much as you loved him. It was evident in everything he did, every kiss and every word. But, he needed a little push.

“I suppose you’re right,” You sigh lightly, giggling along with the laughing boys around the table. “I’m not so sure Lucius wouldn't burst a blood vessel then and there.”

“Exactly.” Draco hummed, and you glanced back to Pansy. She was shocked, only for a second, before taking in the subtle signs of mischief on your face. Her own smirk stretched out in return, and her gaze flickered once to Draco, before back to you. 

A new game was afoot, and Draco wasn’t going to stand a chance.

Slipping your coat from your shoulders, the annual Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball was well underway. Your parents had disappeared into the crowds before you’d even stepped out of the carriage, uncaring of where you were as long as you weren’t causing trouble. They were here to mingle with the other importants, and you were just here to learn the ropes of proper socialising.

The garment was taken from you, your small bag clutched in hand as a ticket was given to you for it, and you brushed down the front of your dress delicately. Pearls moved under your touch, beading along the bodice flat and perfected, and you felt your confidence rise as you looked at yourself once more in the reflection of a dark window. Adjusting the small lace gloves on each hand, you took a step towards the dining room. 

Elegant music was playing from a live band up on a stage, the room was decorated this year to look like a winter escape. Pale and frosty, like a palace of ice, twinkling lights and glittering decor, crisp white tablecloths and ice sculptures. A layer of goosebumps travelled along your skin at the sight of it all, despite the warming charms that took place for the guests. 

Scanning the room, you quickly found your table. The designated kids table, despite you all being legal adults and far beyond such status. You’d all be the babies of the ball until the new generation emerged, no doubt. Moving through the bodies and crowds of people politely, Theo was the first to glance up and spot you, his mouth falling open, and a rush of confidence took over as he raised two fingers to his lips and whistled. 

The sound caught the attention of the others’ chatter fading to quiet as they all turned to look for the object of his cat-calling, Enzo’s eyes widened, Pansy cheered loudly, and even Mattheo looked momentarily speechless. You’d had the same reaction when you’d seen yourself in the dress too, your stylist had truly outdone herself for this one. 

You looked flawless, and you looked expensive, and utterly elegant. Doing a little spin as you approached, a smile broke free on your lips as you stopped before the chair with your name card before it. 

“Merlin, babe,” Pansy started, drawing your attention straight her her, “You’ve got every eye on you tonight. If I was single, I’d be all over you.” 

She winked when you laughed, and Blaise rolled his eyes but smiled, leaning in to kiss her cheek affectionately. 

“Pretty necklace,” She commented, and your fingers rose to the pretty string of pearls and diamonds that you had. 

“It was a gift,” You simply hummed, tugging at your gloves. Glancing at the others, you gave each a polite smile, eyes lingering on Draco as he stared. In any other style, this dress would be scandalous for an event like this. A low neckline, spaghetti straps, no sleeves. Tight and fitted to every curve of your body, and yet the classic designs and vintage nature elevated it to the kind of class Audrey Hepburn would be proud of. 

He looked just as good, a dark suit, a fresh white shirt, a champagne-coloured tie that made the colour of his eyes and his hair stand out and your mouth dried out a little. Silver rings adorned his fingers, the Malfoy signet standing out, clenched so tightly around his whiskey glass that his knuckles were almost white. 

You’d worn soft, golden makeup effects today, a dusting of glitter along your cheekbones and eyelids, a shade of pink on your cheeks and lips that you knew was his weakness. 

“Someone really wanted your attention with that, huh?” Your best friend teased, and your eyes snapped away from Draco, back to her. 

“I suppose so,” You muse, hand coming up to touch one of the beads on your ear, “Since they also got me this lovely pair of matching earrings.”

Pansy made a dramatic show of admiring them, and Blaise gave a funny look, glancing at the jewellery, and then back at Draco, who was frowning. Before you could reach for your chair after placing your clutch down, Enzo was shooting to his feet from beside you, tugging out the chair for you. 

Draco scoffed as you gave him a thank you, settling into your seat, and he glared at the man beside you. Enzo didn’t flinch, however, smirking at Draco as he spoke;

“What? It’s called being a gentleman, cousin.”

Crossing your leg delicately, you’d hardly even removed your gloves, before a tray was coming down by your side, and a young waiter with a dazzling smile was looking right at you. 

“Champagne, ma’am?” Not a planned pawn in your game, but a welcome addition, you smiled sweetly in return. 

“Oh, I’d love some. Thank you.” Taking the single glass by the stem, you lifted it from the tray and the man’s smile stretched wider as you sipped the bubbly, holding his eye. 

“Of course, miss. If you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be at the bar, happy to serve.” His flirting was heavy enough that normally you’d want to roll your eyes, but tonight, you suppressed that urge, playing into it as you bat your lashes. 

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Thank you.”

He took the dismissal, staring appreciatively as he walked away, another look over his shoulder to you as you watched him go. 

“Stop eye-fucking the help.” Draco snapped, and your focus moved to him slowly, just to find his icy glare on you. He didn’t scare you, though, all that mean bravado, but you knew what was underneath. 

“I was doing no such thing.” You tut, placing down your drink. “Don’t be jealous, Dray. You look even better in that suit. If you want compliments, just ask. No need to be mean.”

He seemed rather placated by this, his ego settling down, even if the others did laugh at him.

The conversation seemed to continue around you as you settled in, avoiding Draco’s heated stare and sipping at your champagne. The rush of warming alcohol through your veins settled every dancing nerve, and gave you the calm confidence to do what you had planned. Sitting forwards, just enough, you angled your body so that Draco might have the perfect view over your cleavage as you feigned interest in the chatter around you. 

He took the bait, his gaze falling right where you wanted it, the gems of your necklace dangling just over the swell of your breasts, and he licked his lower lip, pulling it between his teeth.

Raising your hands and catching the swinging gem, you toyed with it carefully, letting it run over your fingers. Time melted away as Draco’s gaze flicked between your nimble touch, your lips, and your chest, shuffling in his seat every so often, and gulping at the bubbly in his glass. 

He was on his third refill by the time food started to be taken around, and you took pity on him momentarily, sitting back in your chair and angling away from him, ready to receive your first course. 

As the starters came around, you turned to thank your waiter, surprised to see it was the same man from the bar who had brought you your champagne. You’d given him little thought since he’d walked away, and you’d never spotted him again, but perhaps that was exactly why he was delivering your food now, as he beamed at you and set down the plate. 

Men did love a little attention, after all. 

Reaching for the bottle of champagne cooling in the centre of the table, the waiter never looked away from you as he refilled your glass without being asked. Draco finally seemed to notice as he finished adjusting his napkin, gaze narrowing on the man serving you. “You’ve got to be kidding me…” He muttered.

You pretended to take no notice, smiling at the man and waving your fingers flirtily as he walked away.

“I’m going to get another drink at the bar,” He announced, leaving without his glass and without asking if anyone else wanted one. You knew where he was truly going, if the lock of his jaw and the stamp in his step were any indication. You doubted you’d be seeing that waiter again.

As you poked at your food, Pansy excused herself too, only a few bites into her meal before she disappeared with a wicked grin and no explanation to anyone. Enzo just chuckled beside you, glancing around the room like he was watching all the cogs of a machine in motion, before turning his gaze on you. “You do look lovely tonight, do you know that?”

“Of course I do. I spent days on end trying on dress after dress to find this.” You sighed, admiring the gorgeous piece of art on your body as you set your cutlery down. 

“And is it serving the purpose you need it to?” He teased, voice knowing, and you nodded. Flicking your gaze over the patrons and guests in the room, you searched for Draco, finding him talking politely to one of his mother’s friends at the bar. 

“It is, I think.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way.” He whispered, your focus still on the man who truly held your heart, who was making his polite excuse and walking way, back towards you all. His gaze locked on yours, only for a second, before Pansy was calling your name and drawing your focus elsewhere. 

When you looked up to her, she was grinning, a man by her side. “This is Elliot, he’s been wanting to meet you for some time. I promised him I’d introduce you both tonight.”

You offered the best smile you could as his cheeks reddened, and Pansy merely patted him on the shoulder, slinking away as you offered your hand to him. “Lovely to meet you, Elliot.”

“You too. As embarrassing as that introduction was, it’s true. I have wanted to meet you for some time.” He had a kind smile and pretty eyes, and he seemed far too nice to be dragged into your game tonight, but he seemed almost like a willing participant, and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. As Draco took his seat, Elliot continued, “Pansy has told me so much about you. You know, if you’re free one day before you go back to that fancy boarding school of yours, I’d love to take you out.”

“Yeah? What have you got in mind?” You smile, twisting a little more to face him, and your encouragement only brightens his expression as Draco’s darkens in your peripheral.

“A night in London, perhaps. We could get dinner, and see the opera?”

“She doesn’t like the opera.” Draco sneered, openly staring at Elliot with enough contempt to scare away lesser men. Elliot tugged at his collar, glancing at Draco, and then back to you as you tried to hide your shock at his behaviour.

“The theatre, then?”

Draco looked ready to snap again, and before he could, you nodded, sparing your unwilling partner. “That sounds wonderful, I’ll see what my schedule says. I’ll get in touch with you through Pansy if I can find the time, is that okay?”

“Perfect.” He smiled, sneaking another wary glance at Draco who was not backing down from glaring at him unflinchingly, but Elliot shook it off, bravely. “It was a pleasure to meet you, truly.”

“And you, Elliot.”

Soon after he left, the plates were being cleared. You tried not to smirk as a different waiter, and one who very pointedly did not so much as even catch your gaze, cleared your dishes away at record speed. 

You knew that Draco had something, everything, to do with that. He was jealous by nature, a spoilt single child who did not like to share his favourite toys, and that is exactly what you were betting on tonight.

You stood, taking a lap around the room with Pansy to settle your food before the next course, and to get another drink. She took the opportunity to fill you in on how her first Christmas event with Blaise’s family had gone, and when you returned, you made sure to surreptitiously place yourself behind Draco’s chair. 

You placed a hand on his shoulder, a friendly gesture, squeezing and rubbing enough that your thumb swept over his collar and across his neck. His pulse jumped under your touch, and he tipped his head closer, into your touch. 

As he did so, your heart leapt in your chest. To others, it might look like a friendly gesture but to you, it meant so much more. You were tempted to cave then and there, to live with this being enough, to settle, but you couldn't. You didn’t want this to be it, you wanted to follow this by leaning down to kiss him, to have him smile against your lips in public the way he did when you were alone. 

To arrive at these events together, arms linked, and to stumble out tiredly together too. To sit by him, his hand on your thigh, to rest your head on his shoulder, to kiss him on the dance floor. The thought was enough to push you through. 

He twisted his head, to kiss your hand like he often did when you did this. Carefully, you slipped your hand away just in time, knuckles brushing across the nape of his neck as you stepped away, and back to your seat. 

His sights moved to you, but like a saving grace, the servers began to appear with more dishes, and dinner soon distracted you all. A delicious serving of salmon and potatoes, and the hall fell quiet enough for you to hear the beautiful music playing when chatter fell low. 

Low conversation, drinks refilled, and that perfect mood set across the room, as people took to the tables and quieted down. Your favourite part of the night, usually. Good food, your friends, and a chance to catch up without the usual weight of it all sitting on you. Regulus was talking, telling the rare story that had him caught up in a long conversation where he usually just observed quietly, but your attention was fixed on your lover. 

Until, Theo spoke up. 

“Oh, merda,” He muttered across Reggie’s’ story, his gaze cutting to you alarmingly quickly. “I forgot to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Your heart skipped a beat, a flash of panic.

“My cousin flew in last minute for the party, and he wants to speak to you.” Theo’s words soothed your panic, and you offered him a flat look for the dramatic way he’d put it. Taking a sip from your glass, you raised a brow.

“When?”

“Now.” He confirmed, sights lifting to sit just behind you, and before you could even turn, a chair was being pulled up beside your own from another table. Turning your head to the owner, a smile burst across your face at the man sitting before you. 

“Dario!” Your arms were around his neck before you could stop yourself, and he was chuckling as he bundled you into an equally enthusiastic hug. He chuckled lightly, pulling back only far enough to press a friendly kiss to your cheek, and you cupped his face as you parted from him. “You’re growing a beard!”

“My mother hates it.” He chuckled, rubbing a hand over it. As you twisted a little more towards him, he reached down, practically manhandling you as he reached for the edge of your seat by your legs, tugging it sideways to face him. You squealed as the chair jolted, screeching on the floor, tugging you closer as he leaned in. “Sei incantevole.”

“Are you charming me in Italian?” You smirk, a boyish smile on his face as he lounged back in his seat. “What are you doing here, anyway? Theo said none of you were flying in this year! I thought you couldn't make it.”

“I couldn't,” He sighed, shrugging, “But, then I heard that you would be here, without a date, and I knew I just had to make it. So, here I am, la mia bella donna. You think a short flight from Italy would stop me rushing over here to you?”

Your giggle was against your control. Even if he was more like family than a romantic interest, the way his accent twisted around coyly spoken words, was enough to bring a blush to even the most unreceptive woman’s face. “Cut it out, you flirt.”

“You’ll save me a dance later, right?”

“We’ll see.” He rose his brow, and you lifted your glass, taking a sip of bubbly to hide your smile, leaving him hanging. “Depends on how much more of your cheesy flirting I can endure.”

“You mean my wonderful Italian charm?” He teased, pinching one of your cheeks, and deepening the flush he had already created. “Don’t think I don’t see the way I make you blush.

You could only scoff, mouth dry as you tried to think of a retort, and you didn’t miss Theo muttering in Italian behind you, curse words you’d picked up on tumbling from his mouth. 

“Perhaps this can convince you,” Dario reaches for his inner pocket, producing a small, slim box. An excited squeak breaks from you as he hands it over, your fingers brushing the elegant leather, an Italian name embossed across the front. “Open it later, alright?”

You could only nod, admiring it happily, before slipping the box safely inside of your clutch. He took your hand, kissing your knuckles as he stood. A final wink as he offered you hid charming goodbyes, and a farewell to the rest of the table, before returning his borrowed chair to where he had taken it from. 

You watched as your friend left, disappearing into the crowd, no doubt to mingle and socialise as he had always been so good at, before you swung back around in your chair. 

“He taught you everything you know, huh, Nott?”

Theo only shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face. “What can I say, tesoro? We Nott men just have charm. We’ll woo your panties right off.” He winked, the cockiness not lasting long as Draco swung at him, a fist landing roughly on his arm as the Malfoy heir scowled, glaring at his best friend. 

“Cut it out.” He growled the words through gritted teeth, and your hand shot up, rubbing at your lip to hide your grin as Draco made no effort to hide his own emotions. Theo only laughed, rubbing at the patch on his arm he’d taken the hit.

Dessert was served, a beautiful display of ice cream and winter berries that almost looked too good to eat. The key word being almost. You hadn't been able to resist, however, and the first small groan you’d let out as the sugar hit your tongue had Draco’s gaze snapping straight to you. I did not leave, once, after. 

Instead, he watched, through a dark gaze, every curl of your lips around the spoon, every swipe of your tongue to catch the juice of burst berries. If you’d put on a little extra show, just for him, nobody else had to know. 

It was like he was staring right into your soul, so intense, even after the meal was long since finished. Finally, you indulged him once again, turning to look at him and raising a brow. “Yes, Draco?”

“You look beautiful tonight, I am simply admiring.” He let his gaze move across you slowly, making his admiration apparent, and his gaze lingered a fraction of a second longer on your neck. He stared at you with open adoration, the kind of look that told you exactly how he felt, even if he was fighting it, but he was close to breaking. He was close to losing this game he didn’t know he was playing. Then, his gaze flickered over your shoulder, sweet observation morphing. His brows drew together, his open hand slamming down on the table hard enough to make the glass rattle. “Oh, fucking hell…”

Mattheo erupted with sudden laughter, loud and brash, and there was a tap on your shoulder before you could even ask him what had him in such hysterics. A young man you did not know, perhaps a few years younger than you, and glanced around the table to see which of your friends had put this one together. Each seemed to have caught on in their own time, and had a hand in adding to the fun, to watch Draco suffer more, but none of them were laying any claim to this one. 

“I’ve been watching you all evening, and you are beautiful.” He smiled, stuttering over his words slightly, and Draco made no shy show of his disdain, rolling his eyes and making a disapproving sound. “I was wondering if you might grant me the pleasure of a dance?”

“She would dance with you,” Enzo interrupted, before you could speak at all, leaning forward toward the edge of your chair from his own, and you could have kissed him in gratitude for saving you. “But, she promised me her first dance. Isn’t that right, love? And I think now is the perfect time. Let’s go.”

Offering you his hand, you took it, letting him sweep you away without a second’s delay, navigating you both to the dance floor and twirling you expertly into his arms. One hand clasped your own, the other sitting at a respectable place on your waist, your own on his shoulder, and he fell into the well-rehearsed steps of a classical ballroom dance he’d been doing since he could walk. 

You let out a shaky sigh, relief flooding your veins as you looked back to your seat, noticing that the boy had taken Enzo’s rejection well and disappeared, not hanging around and waiting for your return. 

“You’re killing him slowly, like a predator playing with its prey,” Enzo smirked, neither of you needing to clarify who you were talking about, as he brought up his cousin. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” He chuckled, spinning you out before pulling you back in, sharp actions that made you dizzy with their accuracy, and you grinned as he brought you tumbling right back into his arms, perfectly. If he’d been trying to win you over, his dancing alone would’ve had you swooning. “You just show up to a fancy event like this, dripping in diamonds and pearls and looking like a million bucks, supposedly single. You mean to tell me you didn’t know that all these rich London boys wouldn't descend on you like vultures?”

“Not my fault I’m single and hot, Enz.”

He just laughed, dipping you a little. “We do struggle, don’t we.” You wove between people, a happy silence falling between you both once again as he guided you over the floor, back and forth, “Are you, though? Single, I mean.”

“That is up to your cousin.”

“Touché.”

You continued to move, until your feet were sore from all the twirling, clinging to Enzo in fits of giggles as he spun and twirled and dipped you more, hands on your waist as he lifted you through the air, making a show of his dancing. 

He may have seemed altruistic in his gestures, sweeping in to save you and Draco from your dance with the boy, but he was using you too. Enzo was taking every opportunity to show off his moves to every lady around the room watching, a flirty smile on his face between conversations and he glanced around, and you wouldn't be surprised if he received more offers than Theo or Dario by the end of the night. 

As the third song came to an end, and the music fell for just a second, you panted slightly, arm around his neck now, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and a bright smile. “Can we take a break?”

“Tired, already? You only gave me three so far.” He smirked at the way your jaw dropped, your face going hot and you knew your cheeks were red. You untangled yourself from his body, barely making it a step away from his laughter before he wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you into his side. “Oh, c’mon. I thought the aim was to flirt and make him mad?”

“He’s not even here to listen!”

“I’m practising,” Enzo murmured, steering you towards the bar, and leaning on the wood as he flagged down the bartender. You were quickly served, by a woman who fawned over Enzo as she passed by, and you had to snap your fingers in front of his face to snap his gaze away from her retreating form. “So, how long are you going to make him—”

A tap on Enzo’s shoulder cut him off, and he turned to look, straightening up instantly from his slumped position. As soon as he moved so you could see, your relaxation melted away too, as you found yourself face to face with Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. 

“Lorenzo, I’ve hardly had a chance to talk to you all evening. I want to ask you about your schoolwork.” The impressively formal and deep voice of Lucius Malfoy settled over your skin like fresh snow, cold but smooth, and you shuddered. 

Narcissa only chuckled lightly at her husband’s words, her eyes on you. “You’ve been busy, though. Who is your lovely lady?”

“Uncle Lucius, Aunt Cissa. This is my friend, (Y/n).”

It wasn’t exactly the circumstances you’d wanted to meet them under, but you smiled nonetheless, nerves running wild as you offered your hand to them both, shaking politely just as your parents had taught you. 

“Ah, (Y/n). Yes. I make a point of knowing all of Draco’s school friends, but I’m in business with your father, aren’t I?” Something like a small kernel of sweetness was buried in that statement, his interest in his son’s life, even if he tried to hide it behind formalities, but it wasn’t your place to comment. 

“Yes, sir. That is correct.”

“They’re very proud of your schoolwork. They were telling me about your latest project. You synthesised a new potion to grow murkweed faster, is that true?”

You were surprised he knew so much, your small project submitted for Herbology was the last thing you’d expected Lucius Malfoy to know of, or take an interest in, and your mouth felt like sandpaper as you tried to form words. “Yes. Yes, sir. That’s right.”

“Interesting.” That calculating gaze scanned over you, analysing you from head to toe, like he could see right through you with a single glance. “That is impressive, for someone of your age. I’d be open to learning more. Are you considering making a future out of your alchemy talents? I have connections that I could contact for you.” 

You were speechless, your stomach going wild with butterflies born of both excitement and anxiety. He smirked, a look that would set you on edge if you weren’t sure deep down that this was in your interests, not against them. 

“Perhaps we can discuss it more soon, when we next see you. With Enzo?”

Enzo’s arm around your waist shifted, a reassuring weight that you were sure had been your only grounding presence for this surreal conversation. He patted your hip encouragingly. “Oh, no, we aren’t…” 

Motioning between you both, Lucius’ brows furrowed, and Narcissa tried to hide her sigh.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Aunt Cissa. (Y/n) isn’t mine, though it is wonderful that you approve.” Before either could question him, or expand on their confusion, Enzo gave your waist a final rub, before removing his touch from you entirely, and stepping towards his family. “Shall we go and discuss schoolwork then, Uncle? You have questions, and I have answers. I hope the ones you want.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Y/l/n).” Lucius politely offered you his hand again, shaking it firmly, and that was about as friendly a dismissal as you’d ever get from him, you’d heard. This was only supported by the surprised look on Narcissa’s face, and the beam Enz gave you as he guided his uncle away. 

“I hope to see you again soon, (Y/n). You look wonderful this evening, thank you for coming.” Narcissa murmured, before following her husband and nephew, glancing back at you only once over her shoulder. She knew. The woman was far more cunning than she let on, the true embodiment of a sneaky Slytherin, observing quietly and taking everything in. Her eyes glinted. She knew you knew she knew, too.

Your heart was pounding, cheeks warm as you lifted your fingers to them cautiously. The disappointed waitress placed down two drinks before you, Enzo long gone without his, but you smiled at her with appreciation, fingers shaking a little as you lifted the glass to your lips to take a sip. 

You’d spoken to Draco’s parents. 

They’d liked you. Lucius had offered to put you onto the career path, and Narcissa had complimented your dress. A soft laugh of disbelief slipped free, your eyes sliding closed for just a second as you revelled in the moment. 

It hasn’t been what you’d set out for tonight, but it was far more than what you’d hoped for. Opening your eyes again, to head back to the table and find Draco, you were met by the sight of a stranger leaning before you on the bar, grinning down at you in amusement. “Hello.”

“Hi.” You gave a terse smile, and a single nod. “If you’ll excuse me—”

“I didn’t even get to ask you to dance yet. Saw you out on the floor with the Berkshire boy, earlier, and I thought—”

“I’m dancing with her next, mate. Piss off.” 

Draco rarely sounded that mad, a chill went down your spine as you felt an arm slide around your waist, tugging you back into his chest. “Dray…”

The stranger only scoffed, glaring at Draco as he wandered away, and your hand reached for his forearm on your body. He snatched it away too soon, however, tugging on your hip to turn you around. His jaw was clenched tight, eyes more frozen than the coldest glacier. “Dance with me.”

Not a request, and he didn’t wait for an answer, before plucking your drink from your hand and slamming it down onto the bar, guiding you back to the swaying bodies. Standing before you, you offered him your hand, your hand sitting lightly on his shoulder. He didn’t take the respectable route, instead, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, sweeping you close to his body, and beginning to move you both in simple steps. 

It was several minutes before he relaxed, your arm sliding further around his neck in a more intimate hold, bringing the two of you much closer, swaying slowly. The tension in his body gave way with every step, and with a resigned sigh, he finally spoke, “You met my parents.”

“I did. They were lovely. Very curious about Enzo and I’s relationship.”

His hand clenched on your waist, and you tipped your head at him as his piercing gaze drilled into you. One more move…

“Oh, don’t be so mad, Dray. We’re only shagging, after all. You’ll find a new girl if I get swept away by someone else.”

His eyes narrowed, jaw clenching, and a fire burned in those silver eyes now, melting the ice away with rage. Checkmate.

“You win, alright? I’m not playing this stupid game any longer.” He took a deep breath, and another, fingers twitching on your back as jealousy bubbled under the surface. “For fucks sake, how many pieces of jewellery from other guys are you wearing? Who bought you those earrings, that necklace? I should be the only one buying you gifts. I should be the one spoiling you. You want the Malfoy family ring? I’ll go yank it off my mother’s engagement ring from her finger right now, just take all this off.”

He studied you for a second, confusion growing at the smirk that grew on your lips. Victory was yours, and you leaned in, pressing a delicate kiss to his cheek. Letting the hand from his neck smooth down his chest, his gaze stayed locked on the jewels around your neck, glaring angrily. “No.”

“No?”

“No. It’s pretty. I’m going to keep wearing it all, let it remind you what you have. Next time you piss me off, forget a date, or use the last of my shampoo, I’m going to put it all back on so you can remember how many guys would jump at the chance.” His nostrils flared, but he stayed silent, wisely knowing when to keep his mouth shut. “I don’t want your family ring, Malfoy. Not yet. I just want a proper title, and the respect that comes with it. I’m not your booty call, or your side piece. You don’t want to play games anymore? Then don’t.”

“You already won.” He whispers, his head dropping down to let his forehead rest on your own. “You know how much you mean to me.”

“Yes, I do. But I want the whole world to know it, too, Dray.”

He didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he twisted his head, enough to press his mouth to your own, silencing any more arguments between you both as he kissed you. His lips claimed yours, a tender and loving kiss, showing everyone just how much you meant to him. There was no mistaking the emotions within it, not as his arms wrapped around your body, holding you to him as the pretence of dancing was given up, your hand on the back of his head, fingers in his hair, meeting every push and pull.

When he pulled away, your smile took over, bashful now under his openly adoring gaze, and he stole several more pecks from your lips. A happy sound escaped you as he tugged you in, tucking his face into your neck, and swaying you both to the music. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

“You have, but I’d be open to hearing it again.” Your hand smoothed over his hair, and he chuckled against your skin, leaving a kiss on the crook of your neck before raising to meet your eye. 

“You are breathtaking, darling. I’m in awe. This colour is my favourite, you know.”

“Why do you think I wore it?”

His fingers trailed down your spine, eyes sparkling even more at that revelation. “How about we get out of here? We’ll make our goodbyes to my parents, and head out.”

“Our goodbyes?” You repeated as he took your hand, lacing your fingers together. 

“Yes. From their son and his girlfriend. I think you deserve a proper introduction, after all.”

Tugging you across the floor, he gave you no time to prepare, and certainly, none to disagree, as you smoothed your hair and attempted to control the blush he’d brought to your cheeks. Through the crowds he wove, until he was pulling to a stop just shy of his parents, and Enzo looked as though he could have cried with relief when Lucius’ intense focus was taken away from him. The boy quickly slipped away as both of Draco’s parents turned to face you. 

“Miss (Y/l/n), when we said we hoped to see you again soon, I didn’t realise you’d take it quite this literally.” He murmured, voice as low and calm as always, and your lips parted, a different kind of heat flooding your features. 

“Oh, behave now, Lucius,” Narcissa grinned, her gaze dropping to your clasped hands, before she reached up to her son’s face, pinching his cheek with a smile. “Draco, darling, I’ve hardly seen you all evening.”

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you Mother, but we’ll be leaving early.” She only gave him a knowing look, ignoring Lucius’ displeased huff, as if she wasn’t surprised at all. 

“‘We’?”

“My girlfriend and I.” He said, proud and strong, before tugging you forward a little more to stand in front of him. His hand left your own, circling your waist instead, and she offered him a smile at the news. 

“I see.” She smiled, patting her son’s cheek affectionately, before turning that knowing gaze on you. “Now Lorenzo’s evasiveness whenever I asked him about you makes sense.”

“You asked about me?” Your words were a rushed squeak, which only seemed to amuse Narcissa more. 

“Of course, dear. I wanted to know more about you. I’d ask you to sit and chat with me for a spell, but I believe my son might combust if I did.”

“Mother!” He gasped, and Lucius only tutted. 

“Draco.” His father growled softly, shaking his head, and the red on his son’s cheeks only grew.

“You both may go, for now. But I hope you’ll visit me soon, and we might talk?”

“You mean… just us?” Your words tapered off to a near whisper, and Lucius smirked to himself as Draco rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, dear. We’ll have tea.”

You could only nod, bidding your final farewells to them both in a state of awe, before Draco was hurrying you along. Tight hands gripping your waist, lips on your neck as he loved you through the crowds, swiping up your bag and giving you barely a moment to say goodbye to your friends before sweeping you away again. It was only due to the snow falling outside, you were sure, that he allowed you to stop long enough to get your coats. 

Helping you, he lifted the garment onto you from behind, kissing your cheek as he reached around your body to fasten it. His elegant coat was already on, and leather gloves were on his hands as he offered you one. Lacing your fingers through his own, he smiled, tugging you out into the freezing night, and ushering you around the side of the Manor, away from the stream of cars lined up for guests as they left. 

“Where are we going, Dray?” 

“To one of the gardens near the path.” He never turned back, leading you carefully around patches of ice and slippery snow as you moved, the light from the house fading. It was almost pitch black, before he mumbled a small spell, and the garden lights glowed to light, glittering on the fresh blanket of ice. 

Sitting on the grass was an old-fashioned sleigh, enchanted to keep dry, even in the snow, and two reindeer sat happily in the snow snuffling at the grass and scattered food. 

The landscape stretched out far before you both, trees and grass and walls all covered in snow like something from a Christmas card, and the sigh that left your lips clouded in the air before your face. 

“Oh, Draco…” Taking a few steps closer, snow-tipped over the tops of your heels as you stepped off the pathway onto the grass, chilling your feet for only a second, before Draco was following. Scooping you up into his arms, you kicked the ice from your feet with a giggle, your arms looping around his neck. “What’s all this?”

“This is your Christmas present. I didn’t realise that was the kind of ice you wanted instead.” He muttered, eyes flicking down to your neck, as he carried you carefully through the snow and towards the ornate sleigh. As you leaned in to kiss his cheek, he smiled shyly, avoiding your gaze as he became embarrassed, ��I wanted to do something romantic for you. We can take the sleigh back to the town, get a cab, and take the jet anywhere you want to go. Pansy already packed a bag for you.”

He placed you down on the edge of the sleigh, letting you shuffle across onto the warmed leather. With another kiss to your lips, he scoffed at your smile. 

“Merry Christmas, my wicked little girlfriend.”

“I can’t believe you arranged all this.” You were practically bouncing in your seat, watching as Draco nervously tugged on the reins, prompting the lazy animals to stand back up, before settling into the sleigh himself. Like they knew just what to do, they took off in a slow trot, tugging the pair of you along through the snow. 

“Maybe if you’d have waited, instead of making me fight for my life tonight, you’d have been surprised.”

His arm was splayed along the back of the seat, and you snuggled in a little closer to him. Curling his arm around you, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, shaking his head and burying his nose in your hair. “If I didn’t make you fight for me, Dray, you’d probably have introduced me to your mother as your study partner. I gave you a little push, that’s all.”

“Is that so?” He muttered, guiding your face up so he could peck your lips. “Who do you think helped me arrange all of this for my ‘lovely lady friend’, hm? I’ve been writing to my mother about having an interest in someone for months now. You underestimate me.”

“You never gave me any other indication!” 

“Oh, please. You walk me like a damn dog, you knew how I felt.” His mouth closed over your own, stealing a kiss, and you couldn't help but smile into it. “I think tonight just proves it.”

The sleigh trotted on as Draco kissed you in the back, beyond thought and reason, your hands tucked into his coat for warmth as he kept you cuddled in close to his side. 

Minutes melted away, the two of you lost in your own world as you jostled and trotted through the fields, back toward the town. Whatever he had planned, it had been in motion for days, and the thought only made you fall a little more in love with him. Perhaps you had underestimated him, but none of it mattered now, not when he was kissing you like you were his only way to breathe, and you had him in your arms, properly, at last.

“So, Pansy knew about your little plan?”

“Yes. I told her days ago.” 

“Hm…” You loved her, and it was perhaps her knowledge of Draco’s actions that made this all the funnier. “So, she knew about your plan, and mine. And still, she made sure to introduce guys to me all night. She played us both just for her own amusement.”

As you thought of her, your fingers lifted to your neck, sitting on the delicate jewellery there, and Draco huffed. Looping his finger underneath it, he tugged lightly. “Can you take this off now, please?”

“Why would I do that?” His pout deepened, glaring at the offending item, and you gave in with an airy laugh. “Pansy, Daph and Tori picked it out personally.”

“What?” His head snapped up, pout gone as his jaw dropped, and he was not laughing like you were. “You let me believe another guy decked you out in diamonds all night! What about the matching earrings?”

“Blaise.”

“The bracelet?”

“Theo and the Notts.” 

At that mention, his eyes narrowed again, searching for your clutch and finding it resting in your lap. “But Theo’s cousin Mario gave you a separate gift.”

“Dario.” You corrected, and he mimicked it childishly, scoffing afterwards. “Well, that part was real. He truly was flirting, and I have no idea what it is, I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Give it to me.” He reached for your bag, a second too slow as you swiped it away from him with a gasp. He didn’t give up, still trying to snatch it as he leaned over you, pressing you back into the seat through fits of laughter, the two of you fighting over the bag until it was pressed to your chest, your eyes wide as you stared up at him, shaking your head. “Give it to me! I’m chucking it, hand it over!”

“No, it’s mine!” He slumped back into his seat, panting for breath and smoothing his hair back down. He was pointedly staring away in the opposite direction, and when you leaned in closer with a chuckle, he leaned away. Grabbing his shoulder, you planted yourself firmly in his lap, kissing the underside of his jaw. “I’m keeping it, but your present is better, I just know it. Whatever it is, could never beat this.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, Dray.” 

He gave in, wrapping his arms around your waist, tugging you in closer to his body and pressing a happy kiss to your cheek. “Fine, but I’m buying you a new necklace when we get off the damn plane. I don’t care who bought that one.”

[sailorsoons]

Baby (k.sy)

PAIRING: Soongyoung x f. reader

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

WC: 29,988

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

GENRE: 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.

WARINGS: Full warnings available under the cut.

A/N: This fic was posted on my original blog which has been deleted. I am now reposting it. I hope it does half as well as it did when I originally posted this story - thank you to everyone who left amazing feedback the first time. It genuinely made me so happy and I am so sorry that it got sent to the moon where I can no longer read it.

A/N 2:  Thank you @daechwitatamic and @eoieopda for beta-reading this fic.

MASTERLIST | THE SYNDICATES COLLECTION | ASK | PLAYLIST | READ NEXT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not any good.”

“That’s okay. I’ll let you beat me.” 

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

“No way!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everyone treats me like a baby.” 

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

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

“What about you?” you ask. 

“What about me?” 

“Jump.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

“I have no idea.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Soonyoung is Soonyoung, though. Your father has brought him into the fold like one of his own, keeping his oath to Soonyoung’s parents to always watch over him and protect him. You’re old enough now to understand that the bonds between higher members of the Syndicate are bonds of faith and blood, of family and something more. 

If anyone shouldn’t be afraid to kiss you, it’s Soonyoung. He lives down the hall from you, and he’s best friends with your brother. It wouldn’t be that weird. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you lay awake in your bed at night while you stared at the ceiling, fingers trailing your lips. 

Now, you’re not so sure. The way Soonyoung recoils makes you realize you hadn’t thought of the single most important thing before marching in here and asking him to be your first kiss: maybe Soonyoung didn’t want to kiss you. 

It hadn’t even crossed your mind - one of the many downsides to getting mostly everything you wanted. You’re so infrequently told no that in the light of rejection, you don’t know what to do, recoiling like you’ve been mortally wounded. 

Nodding your head, you turn away from Soonyoung, throat tightening as the new wave of emotions threatens to spill over. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” 

“Baby,” he sighs. You ignore him, bolting for the door. Soonyoung is fast, though. He snatches your arm and drags you back toward him, though you turn your face away from him to hide the evidence of oncoming tears. “Don’t be like that.” 

“I’m not being like anything. It was a stupid favor to ask.” 

“Would you look at me?”

“No.”

He sighs heavily. “Why are you being so difficult?”

Trying to wrench your arm from his hold is useless. He’s not hurting you, but the grip on your bicep is firm. “Well if I’m so difficult then let me go.”

“Baby.” The frustration in his voice is evident. You ignore the way your nickname rolls off his tongue, the way he’s the only person you don’t absolutely hate the name from. 

“Just let me go!” 

“No. Why do you want me to kiss you?”

The question is like nails against chalkboard now, your embarrassment peaking. “Forget I even asked, just let me go!” 

“Fuck - are you crying?”

“No.”

“Baby, look at me.”

Too afraid that the wavering in your voice will give you away, you shake your head, refusing to turn and face him. With a growl, he gives a sharp tug on your arm, spinning you toward him. You let out a noise of protest, ready to lash out at him again when you feel his mouth on yours. 

Startled, you don’t do anything at first. Soonyoung’s grip is still on your bicep, firm and steadfast. Your eyes blink for a second before they flutter closed, unsure exactly what to do beyond lean into him a little, pressing your lips firmer to his. 

It’s somehow exactly what you expected and totally unexpected at the same time. Soonyoung’s mouth is softer than you were ready for, slotted gently against yours. He’s warm and smells like vanilla and sandalwood, a scent you’ve grown familiar with. Your thoughts peter out, enjoying the way he holds you to him, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. 

When Soonyoung pulls away, you look up at him through half-lidded eyes, your breath shaky. He doesn’t pull back very far, looking down at you with a dark gaze. This close, you can see the real Soonyoung. His expression is soft, eyes sparkling in the blue light of his room. He looks so young suddenly, all of the rage and wrath that lurks under the surface of the calm mask he wears gone for just a moment. 

“You have pretty eyes,” you whisper. His mouth twitches at the corner, an almost smile. “I’ve always thought you had beautiful eyes.” 

He opens and closes his mouth again, trying to find words. You wait him out, heart thudding. He’s still holding you close to him, fingers digging desperately into your arm. 

Footsteps thundering up the stairs wake him from his daze, Seungcheol calling your name. Soonyoung drops his hand and steps away from you, a cool mask of calm sliding into place, the vulnerability gone in an instant. “There’s your kiss,” he murmurs. “Is there anything else you need from me or do I need to jump too?” 

Synth pulses through you, vibrating your very bones as you lounge on the velvet couch in a private section of the club. The lights above you are hazy, but you can make out the shapes of holographic dancers, their graphics so high definition that you can see the sweat beading down their bare backs. 

From the VIP section, you have the perfect view of the DJ platform. Screens flash behind it, holographic wonders of creatures and places and visuals flashing brightly. Writhing bodies twist on the dancefloor around the DJ like a pit of snakes. Among them, you know your father’s Taps slither among the crowd, pushing drugs and psychedelics into the hands of those who can afford it. 

A trained eye can spot a Tap well enough. Though they blend in with the nylon and leather of the partiers, they tend to be sharp eyed and lucid, chewing on stim pops or some other substance to keep them awake and alert. 

It’s not the drug dealers in the crowd who keep drawing your attention, though. You shouldn’t be able to spot Soonyoung in the mass of bodies so easily, but you do. His hair is bleached, reflecting the flashing lights around him as he presses in close to the girl attached to him, hips swaying.

Your mouth sours. Leaning forward you snatch one of the bottles from the ice bucket and pour a shot into a crystal glass. Angel raises her brows as you slide the glass over to her and pour another for yourself. She’s not much of a drinker, but she takes the glass wordlessly, sensing your need to have a partner in crime.

Knocking it back, you hiss as the liquor burns all the way back. Even the high grade alcohol is like fire, washing away your irritation for a dizzy moment, veins buzzing. Leaning back, your eyes scan the crowd and settle on Soonyoung again. This time, he’s leading his partner through the crowd and toward the stairs. The stairs that lead to you. 

Seungcheol and Wonwoo crashing onto the seat next to you breaks your concentration. Seungcheol’s pupils are wide as saucers, eyes trailing upward to dance at the visual of a woman with pink skin sliding out of her top. 

Next to him, Wonwoo pulls a small bag with glittering dust from his pocket, shaking it to settle all of the contents at the bottom before unsealing the top. The way the powder glows against the lights tells you its high quality frostbyte, a powerful stimulant named for the biting feeling when inhaled. 

Instead of yelling over the music, you gesture toward the bag, catching Wonwoo’s attention. He gives you a surprised look followed by a wolfish grin. Wonwoo loves when you partake in partying harder, a side everyone so rarely sees from you. 

Sliding a knife from his pocket, you watch with rapt attention as Wonwoo dips it into the baggie, scooping delicately. You’d rather he cut lines on the table, but you’ll take what you can get, watching as he expertly fishes out a decent sized amount for you to take. 

You’re mutely aware that a group of bodies enters your section. Vernon throws himself down next to Angel, jostling you both as you lean over Seungcheol’s half-asleep form toward where Wonwoo extends the knife toward you carefully. You ignore the weight of Soonyoung’s eyes on you as he, Mingyu and a group of girls sit down and reach to fill their glasses with liquor. 

Wonwoo’s hands are steady as he holds the tip of his blade out to you, a hand held underneath to catch any powder that slips off the blade. Careful not to lose your balance and stab yourself, you level your face with the knife, inhaling sharply. 

Immediately the drug bites the back of your throat, eyes watering as you tilt your head upwards and blink for a second, letting it settle. Sniffing harshly a few times, you clear your nasal passage and blow out a breath, feeling the softest beginning of a tingle as you look at Wonwoo, who is still holding his hands out to you. 

“Thanks,” you nod. He grins and pulls back, rubbing the excess powder along his gums as you fall heavily against the back of the booth. 

Turning to look at your brother, you elbow him. “Are you alive?”

“Mhmm,” he grunts, eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest. Lights dance across his face, all pinks and blues and purples as he breathes in heavily. “I am fucked right now. Can you get me a stim pop from Hoshi? If I do anymore frostbyte I’m gonna get a nosebleed. Again.” 

Actually, asking Soonyoung for anything is the last thing you want to do. However, your brother does look like he needs to wake up, the mess of drugs and alcohol in his system working overtime to put him on his ass. Stim pops are a quick fix, a careful mix of sweet candy and methylphenidate to wake up the nervous system. Soongyoung always has them on his person, especially for when he works late night shifts. 

Turning in the booth, you’re smacked with a wave of color. For a moment, you drink it in, tilting your head upward as the figures dancing above explode into a world of lavender butterflies. They’re utterly captivating, your eyes watching them twist and dance in the air as they flutter. 

A laugh bubbles from your lips, entirely childlike. Grinning, you watch them for a few moments more before they disintegrate into stars, entire solar systems hovering and floating through the space above your head.

Seungcheol elbowing you breaks you from your concentration. Right. Stim pop. From Soonyoung. Glancing at the man in question makes your stomach plummet. Soonyoung’s head is resting against the back of the booth, the girl next to him draped over him with her mouth pressed hot to his throat, her teeth overly white in the blacklight of the club. 

A surge of rage shivers through you, your nails scratching across the green velvet, leaving marks in their wake. Leaning forward, you reach out a hand and smack Vernon’s knee to get his attention. He turns his lazy gaze on you, brows raised. When you point at Soonyoung, he nods and yells over his shoulder to get your target’s attention.

Soonyoung’s eyes flutter open and flick to where you’re sitting. He drinks in your expression before muttering something to the woman mouthing at his neck and peels her off, standing up and shuffling over to you. Angel makes room for him, all but sliding into Vernon’s lap as Soonyoung crashes down on the couch next to you. 

“Hi, Baby. What’s up?” 

“Cheol needs a stim pop,” you answer curtly, leaning away from him. He smells like vanilla and sandalwood laced with alcohol. Soonyoung is so close you can feel his body heat, his breath fanning across your bare shoulder as he moves to look at Seungcheol half asleep on your other side. “Then you can go back to your little public sex session.” 

Soonyoung makes an angry cat noise, narrowing his eyes at you as he smirks. He leans toward you further to reach into his pocket, shoulder pressed against you. His scent fills your nose, heady and familiar. You’re dizzy with it, the touch of his warmth against your skin making you flush.

Suddenly, his nearness is overwhelming. Every hair on the back of your neck stands on end, your skin hypersensitive to the way he leans against you. The glow of the lights is sharper than you remember, and you swear you feel the blood rushing through your body.

A response that could be either because of the drugs you inhaled a moment ago or because Soonyoung is pressed against you and you have the sudden urge to lean into him, to feel his warmth, to press your lips against his and feel their softness. 

In an attempt to save yourself from the trap, you shove back at him. He huffs, glaring at you as he fishes a stim pop out of his pocket and hands it over to you. You’re careful to avoid his touch when you snatch it from his nimble fingers, turning your back on him in the booth to look at Seungcheol.

“Why are you being a brat?” His voice is loud over the music, shouted into your ear as he tilts back into your space again. You can feel the warmth of him on your back. 

“Go away.”

“Baby, please don’t start with me.”

“I’m not starting fuck with you.” 

Seungcheol cracks an eye open to observe your argument with a look of interest. Seungcheol’s pupils are dilated like moons, totally empty of any coherent thought. You peel the wrapper off the stim pop, careful to hold it by the cardboard stick as you pop it into your brother’s mouth. 

For a few moments, your brother lolls the candy around his mouth, sucking greedily. Then, he blinks his eyes open, pupils narrowing as he drinks in the lights and the clubs. He sighs in relief, patting your thigh gratefully as the stimulant chases away whatever else is washing him out.

When you turn around, Soonyoung is still lingering, his dark eyes fierce and focused only on you. He looks good tonight. He looks good every night. He has become your picture perfect torture since that night you asked him to be your first kiss, kickstarting something you were incapable of foreseeing. 

The bleached hair is new and you hate how much you like it. The silvery strands look just as soft as his natural black, and it’s a nice contrast to his dark eyes and sharp cheekbones. Those stormy eyes are staring at you now, something playful that you don’t like glittering under the surface. 

He pouts at you. “Why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you. Go away!”

“You definitely are. What did I do, hmm? Tell me.” 

“Please fuck off.” 

He rolls his eyes, peeling himself off the couch and muttering something under his breath. You’re sure he has nothing nice to say, so you sink further into the couch, crossing your hands over your chest as you sulk. 

Sticky air clings to your skin. You can feel your heart racing in your chest, the music vibrating your ribcage. Your anger is like a monster given life, fueled by the frostbyte and the feverish anger taking root in your stomach as Soonyoung settles back in his spot, pressing his mouth sloppily to the woman next to him. 

And that’s the problem, really. It’s not you that is pressing your mouth to his jaw while he leans against the back of the seat. It isn’t you running manicured nails down the front of his shirts, pulling at buttons despite the audience. 

It isn’t you and it should be. You want it to be.

It’s been two years since Soonyoung kissed you for the first time in his room. You’ve had more experience with other people since then, but it dulls in comparison to his simple kiss. You hate it. What you hate even more is how childish it makes you feel, embarrassment heating your cheeks and throat when he catches your gaze across the booth and you divert your attention. 

For the second time, Soonyoung peels the girl off of him, making like he’s going to get up and come sit next to you again. This time, his companion keeps him rooted to the spot, her nails digging into his forearm as she hisses something at him. He groans, head tilted back like he’s once again the most inconvenienced man in the room. 

Wanting nothing more than to blot him out, you call Wonwoo’s name again, leaning forward heavily for more frostbyte. Soonyoung whistles and snaps his finger in your direction as though to tell you no. You bristle, your anger turning to an inferno, burning up inside of you. 

Vernon and Angel both cringe, leaning out of your line of fire as you swivel to angle yourself toward Soonyoung, hands shaking. “Don’t fucking whistle and snap at me! I’m not a dog.”

“Baby, you don’t need more. Your pupils are the size of Mingyu’s big ass head.”

Mingyu, though right next to Soonyoung, doesn’t hear the insult, his tongue being sucked down the throat of the girl sitting in his lap, hips grinding on him. Another girl is pressed to his side, teeth nipping at his jaw. At least someone is having fun, you think, the three of them totally aware of the crackling tension in their booth. 

The girl attached to Soonyoung’s neck a moment ago bristles when she hears your nickname. “Baby?” she asks, face scrunching. “Are you serious?”

“Chill out, Victra. It’s her nickname.”

“Yeah,” you agree, shooting her a venomous look, despite her doing nothing to earn your ire. “Chill, Victra.”

Once again, you turn your back on Soonyoung, standing and scooting Seungcheol over to swap places with him. He does so with a keen eye, watching the scene unfold as he sucks his lollipop happily, content to watch the drama. 

Wonwoo dips his knife into the bag as you settle in next to him, bouncing with excitement. “I love when you do drugs, you’re so much fun.” 

“I don’t feel very fun right now.”

“Drugs will fix it!” 

“Wonwoo, don’t you dare give her that,” Soonyoung warns. He pries Victra’s hands off of him, leaning forward as though to reach across the table. 

“Ignore him,” you insist. 

Wonwoo hesitates, stuck between a rock and a hard place. The last thing he wants to do is tell you no. No one but your father and older brother get to tell you no. Wonwoo knows this better than most people. But he also doesn’t want to cross Soonyoung, a venture nearly as dangerous as pissing off Seungcheol. 

Soonyoung hisses at the girl next to him,  “Stop clawing at me! Baby, please stop being stubborn for one moment. Just one. ”

“Why the fuck did you even bring me up here?” Victra interrupts, ignoring Soonyoung’s plea. “You’ve done nothing but fawn over her since we got here. This isn’t fun.” 

Soonyoung ignores her. “If you’re mad at me, be mad at me. Stop blowing shit up your nose to prove a point and be a bitch, though.”

“I’m not proving fuck, Soonyoung. And Victra’s right, go fuck her in the bathroom or something and stop telling me what to do.”

“So it is about her?” 

“I have a name!” The her in question snaps. You turn around, temper flaring as you level your glare at her. She turns her nose up at you as she says, “It’s obvious you’re bothered he brought me here. Your jealousy is insufferable.” 

“Ding, ding ding,” Seungcheol imitates a bell. You turn around to look at Victra. “Round one! Fight!”

It takes a second for Victra’s words to land. It’s like each one hits you a second apart, packing their own punch as you register them. The pulsing music around you fades to a dull roar as you stare at her, seeing the way her lips twitch upward as she realizes she’s right. You are jealous that Soonyoung brought her up here. 

Victra’s grin is all it takes for you to spill over. Before you can register what you’re doing, you’re out of your seat and leaping over the table at her, knocking over glasses and bottles. Wonwoo cheers in delight behind you as your brother catches you by the waist, trying to keep you on your side of the booth as you tear at his hands to get across the booth. 

Seeing the attack of opportunity while you’re subdued, Victra shoots to her feet. Angel is fast as an adder, one moment sitting in Vernon’s lap and the next striking Victra down into the booth, knee planted in her stomach. Vernon does nothing to stop his girlfriend, opting instead to reach for a water bottle, unscrewing it to take a sip as his girlfriend pins Victra down to the seat with little effort. 

Noticing for the first time that their friend is in distress, the two women with Mingyu lift their heads. As soon as one starts to slide from his lap to reach for Angel, you kick a foot out, striking the bucket of alcohol and ice. The bucket goes flying at her, hitting her hard in the face. She screams, crumbling in Mingyu’s lap, cradling her face. 

Mingyu and Soonyoung are on their feet in seconds, soaked from the waist down and trying to gain control of the situation as it spirals. Mingyu becomes a blockade between Victra’s two friends, trying to keep them on their side of the booth. Soonyoung is prying a bottle from a hand before it can make its way toward you, yelling something indecipherable. 

Angel is still pressing her knee deep into Victra’s gut. Victra’s attention has diverted from you entirely as she screams like a wounded animal, pushing and scratching at Angel’s knee to try and get her off. You’re sure it hurts, but Angel doesn’t budge, sinking her weight into it. 

Leaning down, you grab something to lob at them - someone’s shoe - but Seungcheol manages to haul you off your feet and spin you, planting you into the booth behind him. You growl, shoving at his legs to move him out of the way, trying to re-engage. 

“Fucking hell,” he grunts. “Are you fucking juicing? Why are you so strong?”

“It’s the drugs,” Wonwoo offers unhelpfully. “Really top of the line drugs.”

“Shut up, Wonwoo!” Both you and Seungcheol bark at the same time. 

Wonwoo holds up his hands, leaning back into the seat as he watches the mess unfold with a delighted grin. You strike out with your foot, slamming against the booth’s table, shoving it in Soonyoung’s direction. You hear glass shatter as more things fall off the table, clattering to the ground. There are shrieks and curses that you can’t see with Seungcheol blocking the way. 

“He’s a fucking asshole!” You seethe to your brother, panting with rage. 

“He is, and you did exactly what he wanted you to do.” You try to kick the table again but he stops you, grabbing your knee. You feel like you can’t get enough air, sweat slicking your skin and the velvet of the couch too sharp against your flesh. “Soonyoung loves a fight when he’s fucked up. You know that.” 

“Well fuck him!”

He pulls the stick from his mouth, candied stim gone. He tosses it onto the floor and looks over his shoulder where Mingyu and Soonyoung are corralling the three women out of the booth. “God, Angel  broke that girl's rib I think. Hahahha!” 

“I want to break her fucking face!” 

“I think you broke her friend's face. She is fucked up. That bucket hit her right in the eye. What a shot.” 

“If you’re so entertained, why’d you get in my way?”

“There’s a lot of eyes here.” You glance around, noticing other booths looking at you, people ducking toward one another to whisper. “You have an image to maintain.” 

Adjusting your shirt, you settle back into the booth. “Alright. Alright I’m good.”

When Seungcheol moves out of the way to take a seat, Soonyoung replaces him. You glare up at him, feeling your anger curl up in you again. His lips twitch, a hint of a smirk as he sits down next to you, sighing heavily and tilting his head to look up at the flashing lights.

The girls are nowhere to be found. Angel is sitting back down next to Vernon who hasn’t moved, and there are servers picking up the mess you made. Mingyu is notably absent, though you can guess where he’s gone for the night. He’s good at making scorned lovers feel better about their bad luck. 

“Jealousy is crazy on you,” Soonyoung notes, tonguing the inside of his cheek as he glances at you sidelong. “I kind of like it.” 

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” you warn. He laughs, the fight totally leaving him. “I’m serious. Don’t ever do that to me again, Soonyoung. Not to me.” 

“Alright, alright. When you say jump, right?” 

Soonyoung’s fingers brush against yours. Just the rough feeling of his calluses against the tips of your fingers has you shivering, anger replaced with want. He doesn’t take your hand, doesn’t move to do anything else but lean back in silence with your fingers touching. 

Resigned, you say nothing else to him. You’d got what you wanted - sort of - even if you know you made an ass out of yourself doing it. It isn’t the first time he’s made you jealous, but it is the first time it’s boiled over so violently. 

You remind yourself not to do frostbyte when you’re mad anymore.

You turn your attention to where Angel is snorting frostbyte up her nose off of her boyfriend’s phone, accidentally turning on the hologram as she does, her face suddenly caged by green screen data. You call her name gently. She looks up at you, pupils blown, reflecting the lights dancing above like dark glass. “Thanks,” you offer. 

Her grin is too wide, teeth too white. She reminds you of a demon more than she does an angel. “Anytime.” 

When you settle back in, you glance at Soonyoung once. He looks down at you, smirking a single time before he leans into you and rests his head on your shoulder. You feel him melt into you, sighing as his eyes close and he nuzzles a little closer. You put your hand on his thigh, squeezing once before you leave it there, feeling the heat of his skin through his pants.

It isn’t until he’s almost asleep, pressed as close as possible to you that you realize maybe he got what he wanted too. 

Rain washes over the black city, the mist turning the thousands of digital and holographic advertisements into a watercolor smear of neon. It smells wet and like rot, the drains overworked and belching water and trash back out into the street as you walk, feet splashing. 

You quickly duck out of the way of a group of rowdy men spilling from a bar. You can smell the drink on them, their feet sloshing in the rising water of the street as they dredge toward the next bar. They whistle at the pretty girls dressed in light up raincoats and flickering green contacts, stumbling toward a brothel instead of the bar. 

Gripping your umbrella tighter, you quicken your steps. Grease smoke drifts toward you from various hawker carts, the sizzle of meat making your stomach growl. You ignore them, knowing you have dinner with your family later as you take a corner and plunge into the darkness of an underground stairwell. 

The LEDs on your umbrella cast a pink light as you descend the stairs, careful not to slip on the caked grime. Two guards stand outside metal double doors, music pulsing faintly behind it. They look you up and down, ready to deny entry until you state your name at the bottom of the steps. 

“ID?” the one on the right asks, giving you a critical eye. 

Of course he doesn't believe you. The daughter of the Tower would never walk anywhere without a body guard, especially in this part of the city. You spin the umbrella, the pink coalescing as he takes the phone from your hand and taps it, blue lighting up his face when your ID and profile appear in holographic data above the screen. 

He clears his throat and bows at the waist. When his counterpart doesn’t, he smacks him hard on the back, making the man lean over. “Apologies, Miss Choi. Right this way.” 

Music hits you full on when the doors open, the base creating static in the air. You cringe as it vibrates through your ribcage and teeth, wondering how anyone could stand to be in a club this loud. Popping the umbrella shut, you let your eyes adjust while one security guard remains at the door, shutting it behind you, and the other hands you your ID.

“Should I escort you to the office, Miss?” 

Writhing bodies dance together, scintillating like snakes in a pit. Above them, lasers and holograms light up the world with flashes of colors you didn’t even know existed. A wide bar stretches to the left of the floor, lit up by soft cyan lights. Behind it, the bartenders move in a blur, the glow on their clothes turning them ethereal. 

You glance at the security guard, who waits patiently before shaking your head. You point to the space above the bar where there are two large, mirrored windows looking out into the club. “Up there?”

“Yes,” he answers, hesitating. “Let me escort you.” 

With a roll of your eyes you nod, gesturing to him to lead the way. He clears a path, clubbers and workers alike moving out of his way when he shoves them. You walk behind him, swinging your head from side-to-side as you look at the people, fascinated. 

People with spikes pierced in their skin and whorling tattoos with glow ink stare back at you, glowing contact lenses and gemmed teeth all taking you in. You rarely get to mix in with the crowd that partakes in more unique cosmetic alterations and fashion, fascinated by someone who walks by with red glowing face tattoos like a demon mask. 

At the foot of the stairs, the guard lets you walk up first. It’s clear of people, so he remains standing at the bottom, taking up an imposing position with his hands linked in front of him, blocking the stairway entirely. 

The thud of music vibrates through your boots as you climb the stairs, greeting another security guard. You can tell he’s already been warned you’re here - he bows immediately and keys in the pad at the door, opening the office for you. 

You pass by him airily, stepping into the dry and much cooler office. The door closes behind you, immediately cutting off the sound with high–tech sound proofing. Soonyoung is leaning against the bar, his back to the door as he watches out the windows, a glass in his hand. 

“What in the fuck are you doing?” he asks, tossing you a look over his shoulder. You grin, skipping over to him. He doesn’t grin back, looking you up and down as you join him. You reach for the decanter he’s drinking from but he smacks your hand, viper fast. “Not a chance.”

“What? Why not?”

“You shouldn’t be here, much less without a security team. The Tower will be livid.” 

“The Tower doesn’t have to know.”

Soonyoung’s jaw flexes. “The security team will tell him you were here.”

“Not if you tell them not to.”

“Baby,” he sighs, tilting his head up and closing his eyes. You lean against the bar, watching him. The lights from the club are dimmer in here, but they flash against his face, painting him in golden light. He’s beautiful. “What are you doing here?”

“Angel said you had a bad day.”

“I always have a bad day. And tell Angel to shut her mouth.”

You snort. “You tell her that.”

That gets a grin out of him. He lowers his head, dark gaze finding yours. “You can’t just walk around the Lower City without a personal guard, Baby.”

“I’m not helpless.”

“I know you’re not. I’m not either but people try to rob me all the time. You, on the other hand, are a lot prettier of a prize than I am.” 

“So you think I’m pretty?”

This time when Soonyoung sighs, it’s affectionate. He sips his glass of amber liquid, turning to watch the crowd outside the office. He holds out his glass to you, a concession. You grin further, accepting it from him and bring it up to your nose to smell. You don’t know anything about liquor, but from the spiced scent you can tell it’s good quality.

You take a tiny sip. It goes down smooth - strong, but good and warm. Instead of giving him the glass back, you cradle it to your chest, leaning against the bar next to him close enough that your arms are almost touching. He continues looking out at the crowd, keen eyes serious and back to work while you look at him. 

Soonyoung is beautiful. His side profile is lethal, the slope of his neck elegant, the curve of his jaw sharp but delicate, his high cheekbones catching the light. His eyes are dark pools, reflecting the snatches of light that come through the dark windows. 

“Did you come here to stare at me?” he asks, never taking his eyes off the crowd. 

“What if I said I did?” 

His mouth twitches at the corner. “Unfortunately I would believe you.”

Watching over clubs isn’t usually Soonyoung’s job. But this club is in a terrible part of the city and isn’t worth much to the Choi Syndicate, so sometimes he’s awarded the opportunity to prove himself to your father and to the elders of the Syndicate that he’s competent and capable of leadership, despite the fact you’ve always known him to be. 

Soonyoung isn’t meant for leading like Seungcheol. But there is a certain level of loyalty and understanding he has to cultivate with the heavies of the family, the Swords who carry out the bloody tasks of removing people from the way and keeping assets safe. His father had been the Sentinel of your family for years until his death, and Soonyoung is expected to pick up that mantle.

This is all a part of that. Soonyoung already has the loyalty of the security team running this hole in the wall, alerting him the second you arrived and refusing to let you go up the stairs alone. Had they failed to do that, you might think a little less of them. 

Soonyoung also probably would have had them beaten. 

Finally, Soonyoung turns to look at you. He sighs and raises his brows expectantly. 

“What?” you ask. 

“What did you come here for? Real answer, this time.” 

“I told you. Angel said you had a bad day. That is my real answer.”

“And?”

You shrug, sipping from the glass and turning toward the windows. “I wanted to make it a better one.” 

That makes him go silent. You can see him turn to look at you, his stormy gaze pinning you to the spot. You don’t look at him, letting him stare as you nurse the drink and watch the dancing crowd down below. They’re beautiful, in a way, an ocean of bodies saying as colors turn them blue and then green and then bright red and then lavender. 

Soonyoung leans toward you, bumping his head on yours lightly. That gets a laugh out of you, stomach fluttering and wishing he would stay leaned against you. He pulls away though, crossing his arms over his chest and turning his eyes back to his job. 

“Thank you,” he finally says, voice quiet. “It is already a better day.” 

The silence is comfortable. You eventually give him the drink back and he takes it, tongue darting out to lick the lip gloss you left. He hums. “Cherries.” 

“You’re gross.” 

He smiles into the glass, taking a sip. “I actually have something for you.” 

“A present?”

He snorts. “Not exactly. Go to the desk - top drawer on the right.” 

Eagerly, you do as he says. The heavy wooden desk sits in the back of the room, imposing even without the metal lockers behind it with weapons. You ignore the heavy guns under padlocks and go for the drawer in question. 

A rectangular box is in the drawer Soonyoung specified, unmarked. You turn it over in your hands, curious. It’s not very heavy and fits mostly in your palm. 

“Bring it over here.” 

You do, trailing back to Soonyoung. He extends his hand and you pass it over to him, watching with interest as he cracks the box open with the sheer strength of his fingers. He pulls out a small device, a wire and what looks to be a plug, tossing the box to the bar. 

“Do you know what this is?” he asks, holding up the device. 

It’s a small rectangle with a keypad and a screen. You raise your brows in surprise. “It is a very old phone.” 

“It is.” He smiles, pleased with your answer. He passes the materials over to you and you hold them against your chest. “That’s the charger and the charging cord. It’s one of the old kinds of phones that requires a phone tower. There are barely any in the city.” 

“And what is this gift for?” 

“I own the phone towers that support it.” You raise your brows. Soonyoung rarely spends the inheritance his parents left behind, so you’re surprised. “It only has a single phone number programmed into it that will call the one I have.”

At this, he reaches into his pocket and produces the phone’s twin. He shakes it for emphasis, pressing a button and lighting up the screen. “You have to make sure to keep it charged. I want you to have it for emergencies only. And I mean emergencies, Baby. This is a last resort kind of device, alright?” 

You chew your bottom lip, dragging your eyes to look up at him. “Why?” 

“Because I need to know that you always have a last resort.” His gaze darkens. “Clearly your assigned security team lets you give them the slip. I need to know that you can hit the dial on this faster than you can on our phones. They’re overly complicated and not quick. With this?” 

He reaches over and turns on the phone in your hand. Once booted, he presses the one button. The device in his hand starts ringing. “Direct and fast access to me at all times. Do it even if you can’t tell me where you are. I’ll find you.” 

Emotion twists your throat. You grip the phone with a vice grip, looking up at him with wide eyes. His face is serious. He slips his phone in his pocket, turning back to do his job. “I will answer,” he promises. “It doesn’t matter when and where. I will answer that phone even if I’m dying. Do you understand?” 

“Yes.”

He nods. “Good.”

A knock on your door wakes you up from a dreamless sleep. Darkness spills across your room like ink as you slip from your bed, cursing when you kick the corner of your nightstand. With a raspy voice, you ask the automated room assistant to turn on the nightlights, a hazy purple immediately lighting the circumference of your room.

Squinting against the lavender glow, you pad over your room to open the door. Soonyoung is leaning heavily against the wall just beyond the threshold, his chin tucked to his chest and his hair sweaty and clinging to his temples. 

He doesn’t move when you open the door, the lilac light casting an eerie radiance on the side of his face. It’s hard to make out his expression in the lurking shadow of the hallway, and he offers no explanation for why he’s knocking on your door at three in the morning. 

“Soonyoung?” you whisper, eyes darting down the hall. No one else is around. “Where are Cheol and Vernon?”

“S’cheol is still working. Vernon went to stay at Angel’s.”

“Are you - Soonyoung are you drunk? Or high?”

“Yeah.” 

Both you realize. You can deal with both. 

Grabbing him by the hand, you tug him gently. He pushes off the wall with heavy steps, stumbling through your open door and into the room. You grip him tighter, shutting your door with a gentle click before turning around to face him. 

Soonyoung won’t look at you, turning his face away as he sways a little where he stands. Now that you can see him fully, you realize that there is blood on the collar of his shirt. Heart thudding, your hands reach for it, peeling it back to look at his neck. Specs of dry crimson flake from sweaty skin, making your terror reach new heights. 

He shrugs you off. “Not mine.” 

“I - what’s going on?” 

Instead of answering you, he walks a few crooked steps toward your bed and sits down on the edge. Licking your lips, you approach him slowly. He’s slouched over, elbows pressed to his knees as his head hangs heavily. He still hasn’t looked at you properly and you’re aching to see his eyes. You can always understand him better when you see his eyes, able to read the depth of emotions hiding beneath his mask.

When you reach him, you crouch down. Instead of grabbing for him again and risking him pulling away, you rest your hands on top of your knees. When afraid or upset, Soonyoung is like a cornered animal. You don’t know whether he’s in fight or flight, both just as dangerous as the next. 

“Soonyoung,” you say again gently. You watch his every move. “You’re scaring me. Do you need me to call Cheol or Vernon?”

If Seungcheol is working the circuit, he isn’t the best to call. Late night circuits include going from club to club under the Choi banner to monitor the drug trafficking and attend small business meetings as appropriate. Seungcheol will drop whatever he’s doing for you in a heartbeat, but it’s more complicated than that. 

In theory, Vernon is easier to get a hold of. He’s already off work and though he might not answer his phone if you call, you know his girlfriend will. Plus, the blood on Soonyoung’s shirt and skin can give you a guess at what’s happened, and Vernon is more equipped for that type of thing than you are. 

“Let me call Vernon-”

“No,” he finally says. “No. Sorry. I just.” 

Your chest squeezes in pain. It’s like you can feel the torture radiating through him, feel the weight of whatever it is that’s dragging him down yourself. Desperation drives you to reach out toward him slowly, watching for any sign of startling him. When he doesn’t move to pull away, you touch him gently, squeezing his knee gently. “What do you need?” 

“My dad always said I should feel something.” His words are halting, coming out slurred. You wait, holding your breath as he works through them. “Always said that you should feel something when you kill someone. If you don’t, it means you’re nothing more than a beast with base instincts. Not intelligent or refined.”

It takes everything in you not to let your grip turn to steel at his words. Instead, you rub your hand up and down his thigh soothingly, saying nothing. Soonyoung has never killed someone before. You would know if he had. He’s the last in your immediate circle of friends beside yourself to take on the weight of stealing life, and you’ve dreaded this day for a long time. 

Murder is an inevitability in your family. Keeping the Choi Syndicate on top requires sacrifice, cruelty and cunning. Soonyoung had started serving as an officially ranked member of the Syndicate over a year ago, and though he had fucked up a lot of people and brought them to the brink of death, he hadn’t actually done it yet. 

“I felt nothing,” he whispers, voice thick. “Fucking nothing.” 

“What do you mean?”

“There was no guilt. I didn’t even flinch. It was so easy, like fucking breathing. That’s not what my dad wanted me to be. He always said that those who felt nothing were just… baser creatures. That we were better because we were… made better.” 

“I think your dad wanted a lot of things. You being alive was the most important of those things, Soonyoung.” 

“I’m just tired of feeling fucking empty. I don’t give a shit that I killed someone, Baby. Honestly? I was fucking looking forward to it. I thought maybe - just maybe - I would feel something, even if it was guilt or horror or satisfaction. There was nothing.” 

You have no idea what to say. Instead of words, you surge forward, letting go of Soonyoung���s knee to push yourself between his thighs, wrapping your arms around his middle. He flinches for a moment, arms hanging dead at his side as you press your cheek to his chest, squeezing. 

Inside, you feel your heart crack open. You shove down the overwhelming sense of despair on his behalf, instead focused on him. There’s nothing to say with words, and you hope he can feel what you’re trying to tell him through touch, that he can feel everything you don’t know how to say as you hold him tight, clinging to him. 

Slowly, his arms encircle you. It takes him a moment, but he applies a little pressure back. It makes you scoot in more, pressed as close as you can get to him. He buries his face in your neck, his breaths warm and smelling like tequila. He smells like him too, vanilla and sandalwood. 

“I don’t feel like a person sometimes,” he whispers. “It’s like the ability for me to feel anything died forever ago. Like I killed it so that I didn’t ever have to hurt again. Now I only ever feel when-”

He cuts himself off and sinks into you a little more. You bear his weight, willing to carry any burden for him. You don’t think he realizes that he could ask you to jump and you’d say how high. You’ve always been willing to jump for him, always willing to do whatever he wants, whatever he needs. 

Gently, you ask, “You only ever feel when what? You can tell me if you want. Whatever you need.” 

“I feel when I’m with you.” Soonyoung whispers it like it’s a secret he doesn’t want you to hear. You feel the words hit your skin where he speaks them, a shiver slithering through you. His grip on you tightens a little with the admission, like now that he’s said it, he can’t let go. Won’t. “I feel most like a person when I’m with you.”

Pressing the flat of your hand to his back, you begin to stroke up and down slowly, touch following the careful ridges of his spine. He sighs, shivering in your hold. You want nothing more than to take the pain or whatever he’s feeling away, to rip it from him and to destroy it. 

The fierceness of your love for him is hard to tamp down. A fiery admission of your feelings for him isn’t what he needs right now. You know Soonyoung like the inside of your own soul, everything that makes him tick, every habit he’s picked up over the years. You can sense him standing lost at sea, needing an anchor. Needing you. 

“Okay,” you say softly. “So stay with me. Be a person with me.”

“I’m not made for you.”

“Yes you are.” Your nails dig into his back through his shirt, pressing sharply. The desire to covet him is so intense it overtakes you. “If I make you a person, then how could we be made for anyone but one another?” 

Silence greets your logic. You stay holding him like that, desperate to keep him there, terrified he’ll shrug you off and get up. He’s done it before, shucking off your affection like something to be disposed of. And still you give it to him freely, begging him to take it. 

He doesn’t shy away from you. Instead you feel him nod, mouth brushing tenderly across your throat in the ghost of a kiss. “If I stay right now, you will never get me to leave. Do you understand? I won’t… I will be incapable of ever letting you go. Ever. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

You hug him tighter. “Try to leave me at your own peril, Kwon Soonyoung.” 

“Where’s your other half?” the voice causes you to turn from where you lean against the bar. Angel slides up next to you, cocking her head as she does. She looks like a wraith, dressed in a rain slicker over black long-sleeved shirt that’s tucked into black pants. Her jacket and combat boots are wet, suggesting it’s still raining outside. “You’re usually attached at the hip. My therapist calls that codependency. Says Hansol and I have it too.” 

“Does your therapist also know you’re a murderer?” you mutter. The bartender slides drinks over to you and you nod in thanks. “Or that you’re only seeing her because Jeonghan made a bet with you? Or that your job often involves extortion? What does she think about that?” 

As a Rook of the Choi Syndicate, Angel’s job is a far cry from the holy nickname she’s sported since she was a child. Like Vernon, her role within your father’s empire is to collect debts owed to the Choi family and to remind them never to fall behind on payments. Other times, she’s simply used as a good tool to put the fear of god into enemies of the Choi family, and she’s good at it.

Raised under the careful tutelage of the Yoon family, there’s no weakness Angel can’t find and use. The only one better at it than her is her step brother, who is probably sitting next to your brother behind closed doors somewhere in the Choi Estate holding a meeting.

As Seungcheol’s future second in command, it’s Jeonghan’s responsibility to learn the ropes just like your brother. One day, it’ll be the two of them leading your family, a thought that makes you cringe with worry. 

Angel answers your question with a shrug. “I’m sure she knows I’m into some shit. I’m learning all kinds of new things about myself.” 

“Oh yeah? Like what?” 

“I don’t like therapy. And I kind of want to ask my therapist why she thinks she’s qualified for therapy when she’s fucking three of her clients.”

A snort escapes you as you shake your head. Of course Angel knows that about her own therapist. Lifting the two drinks on the bar, you drift away from her, eyes flicking over the Rook. “Stay out of trouble, Angel. And give Vernon my love.” 

She grins, wicked sharp and deadly. “No bar fights, hmm? Enjoy the party.” 

The party in question is exhausting. You’ve been playing pretty princess all night, saying hello to all of the right people, shaking all of the jeweled hands, kissing all of the right asses. You’re exhausted and the tension in your shoulder has been knotting further and further. 

Once upon a time you would have been thankful to at least not be Seungcheol. He shouldered a lot more responsibility. Now you’ve realized that you don’t shoulder less than him - it’s just different. If Seungcheol is the sword and shield of the Syndicate, you’re the face and smile. Galas, charities, celebrity events - it’s a never ending stream of smile, pose, shake hands. 

It doesn’t hide the fact that you sit on a throne that belongs to a criminal empire, of course. But it’s also no secret that the Three Syndicates run the city. Your family has long been one of the stalwart backbones of the government and city infrastructure. Only the Kim family and the Yong family come close. 

Still, appearances are everything. Especially when the Yong family owns most of the media outlets, weaponizing it against the Choi Syndicate every chance they get. You make it harder for them, using your appearances and platforms like a carefully wielded sword. 

Spotting Soonyoung among those dressed in dark security uniforms is easy. He nearly blends in with the dark pipe and drape that has been set up all over the ballroom of your home, but you could find him anywhere, your internal compass pointing to him even in the dark.

Soonyoung’s eyes alight on you, sharp and intense. His face is a cool mask of indifference, but you can see the way interest sparks in his eyes as he drinks you in. He’s already seen you in your dress tonight, but it doesn’t stop him from refamiliarizing himself, eyes tracing every dip and curve.

God you wish you were somewhere else with him. Specifically wrapped in the gray sheets of his bed, sweat-slicked and out of breath. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” you say shyly, handing him a drink.

He takes it and looks up at you, arching a brow. “I can’t drink this, I’m working.” 

“It’s just soda with lime, the way you like it.” 

His lips twitch in a smile as he takes a sip, nodding in confirmation. He doesn’t reach out to you and hold you close like you know he wants to, respecting the propriety of his position and the fact that he is on the clock right now. 

“You look tired,” he murmurs, eyes studying your face. 

So does he. As an official Sword of the Choi family, his job keeps him out late, bloodied, and tired. He’s completely changed from the man who sank into your arms that first night he killed someone, hardened into someone that your father sends to do just that often. 

A weapon. A Sword. A trusted knife in the dark for the Choi family.

You think Soonyoung is more capable than being a heavy for your dad and his associates. Soonyoung is intelligent and sharp, having gained perspective and a wealth of knowledge from living with your family. Still, his dad had been the leader of the hired guns for the Choi Syndicate. Soonyoung is an efficient killer, his fate bound by his father long ago.

“When are you off tonight?” you ask instead of telling him how tired he looks.

“I’m not.” You frown. He sips his drink again and gives you a soft smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s been busy. The Yong family are getting in our way at the docks. I gotta head down there with Vernon and Jeonghan after the party.” 

“The Yongs are doing it outright?” 

“No. We’re pretty confident it’s them though. Jeonghan is working on it. If we can bring the Xu family under our wing, it would be a lot easier to push them out.” 

“They have a son,” you note, thinking about the last event you attended where the Xu heir was in attendance. “Maybe marriage to one of our big hitters? Nexus Capital has an heiress.”

“I’ll mention it to Jeonghan. Who the fuck would want an arranged marriage, though?”

“Not me,” you laugh, wiping the eyelash you spot on his cheek gently. He gives you a tired, albeit affectionate smile. “You’ve been working nonstop. Tell Seungcheol you need a night off.”

“We both know it’s not Seungcheol working me to the bone, Baby.” 

Swallowing thickly, you turn away from him under the guise of scanning the crowd. You know you don’t fool him. Both you and Soongyoung know your father does not approve of your relationship, taking it out on Soonyoung to keep him busy and away from you. 

Your father would never hurt Soonyoung directly. You know that. He loves him like a son - sees his late best friend in the features of the man that Soonyoung has been shaped into under his care and tutelage. When you started dating Soonyoung seriously, you thought your parents might be happy. They adore him and they loved his parents just as much. 

Soonyoung is below your station, though. 

Your father will never say it outright. He wouldn’t insult his late friend’s son that way. But the way your father works Soonyoung harder than anyone else, holding him to a standard he doesn’t even keep for his highest level of men, you realize how deep the dissatisfaction goes. Even your mother’s adoration of Soonyoung does little to shield him from the petty assignments, try as she might. 

Still, you don’t care. And at the end of the day, neither does Soonyoung. As long as he gets to have you, he’s willing to put up with the petty assignments and the working late. 

“Hey,” Soonyoung says gently, bringing your attention back to him. He finishes his drink and sets it on a banquet table nearby. His eyes are averted, looking somewhere across the room as his hand slips around your waist to squeeze you quickly and press a kiss to your temple. “I’ve got to go - I’ve got a meeting with Vernon before we head out tonight. I’ll see you when I’m done. Probably won’t be until late morning.” 

“Alright,” You sigh. His hand slips from your waist and you wish you could pull him back to you. “Love you.” 

He grins brightly, giving you a wink before he melts into the crowd, weaving around party goers. Your heart squeezes when you lose sight of him. 

Someone clearing their throat catches your attention. You spin around to see Lan, one of your father’s personal Swords nodding politely at you. “Your father wishes to see you in the West Parlor. I’m to escort you.”

“Oh. Sure.” You set your drink down on the banquet table, wiping your damp hands on your dress. “Lead the way.” 

People bow their heads in respect as you go. You keep an even pace with Lan, which is hard to do with his long strides and your strappy heels digging into your ankles. He slows for your benefit and you give him a grateful smile, the swelling noise from the party leaving you behind as you step out of the ballroom and walk toward the west wing of the house. 

Some people mill about the halls of the estate. You can spot the members of the Syndicate who are on duty, mostly Swords that belong to the security force employed under the Choi family. You spot Chan leaning against a wall while gesturing broadly with his hands as he speaks to the owner of a new club on the edge of the Pearl District. When he catches your stare, Chan winks before focusing his attention back on the owner. Probably trying to work out some sort of deal or partnership, as is his job. 

The west wing of the house is quiet and off limits to the rest of the party. Your bedroom is just up two flights of stairs, your bed calling your name as you pass under the stairwell into the hallway that belongs to the West Parlor, the library, the study and your father’s billiards room. 

Old Man Vero is standing outside your fathers study, his hands linked in front of him and his head straight forward. He glances your way as Lan leans you toward the door, cracking a bit of a smile on his leathery face and giving you a wink. You grin, lightly reaching out and touching his elbow as Lan opens the door for you. Your father’s Swords have been in your life since you were a child, permanent figures of fixed loyalty and familiarity. 

They love you like they love your father, like they love your brother. It isn’t pure fear and power that keeps the Choi Syndicate together. Your father has plenty of that among the ranks, but the loyalty and love between him and his higher ranking members is real. Critical. It was a skill he taught you and Seungcheol, both of you arming yourself with your own shield of friends and confidants. 

Your father sits in a leather armchair, leaned back with his eyes closed. Next to him, a cigar smokes in the ashtray, threatening to go out as the thin wisps of smoke vanish into the air. An old fashioned record player echoes in the far corner of the room, smoothe notes vibrating through the air. 

“Tower,” you greet him formally, bowing at the waist. “How can I be of service to the family?” 

His eyes flutter open and he looks at you tiredly. He looks so much like your brother that it’s uncanny, sometimes. But his youth has worn off, his age more and more evident these days as he spreads himself thin expanding the Choi empire. Your mother has asked him - begged him - to give more responsibility to Seungcheol, but he refuses.

At least you know where your stubborn streak comes from. 

“So formal,” he notes, his lips twitching upward. He gestured for you to sit in one of the arm chairs. You do, smoothing your dress carefully as you sit. Behind you, Lan exits the room, the soft click of the door behind you. “You were always a better student than your brother.”

“That’s because he’s a man.”

A hearty laugh makes you grin, feeling a flutter of fondness. He was never an overly affectionate father, but he’s always been kind, though firm. You respect him, which is saying something in your world.

“Spoken like an intelligent woman,” he sighs. You wait patiently, watching as he seems to gather his words. Your stomach knots, sensing a trepidation about him that you’re not used to. “Your intelligence has always been your best asset, though you’re a little hot-headed like your brother.” 

“Steadfast is the mountain,” you say, quoting the Choi family motto.

He grins and adds your mother’s family moniker, “But the fire does burn. I knew marrying your mother was a good choice. Marrying the right person is paramount in this life. Family unions can make or break an empire, and they forge old alliances anew or secure new alliances.” 

A prickle down your spine makes you sit straighter. You had implied as much earlier to Soonyoung about the Xu family, knowing marriage was a viable option to bring the shipping mogul into the Choi empire. Now, though, the notion has you on edge, watching him like a frightened cat.

“I didn’t pick your mother, you know,” he muses, his eyes unfocusing somewhere far away. “But when my father recommended her, I knew he was right. I was familiar with her, of course. We went to school together. Fought like cats, but she was so intelligent and fierce.” 

You’ve heard this story before. Your father hadn’t loved her to start, but your mother had loved him right away. Had always known that she loved him. She’d shown up at one of his billiard nights and told him exactly how she felt, asserting that they would be married and that he would be loyal to her. 

He’d fallen in love with her that night. 

He sighs heavily. “I see a lot of your mother in you.”

“Don’t let her hear you sound so disappointed. She might be offended.”

“She’s better than me,” he says. His eyes focus on you, flicking back to appraise you. Sweat slicks on your back and only years of training keep you from not fidgeting under his weighty gaze. “But it would be easier sometimes if you were more like me. Less fire, more mountain. Still, you are rational, so let us speak plainly: you are going to marry the Kim family heir.” 

Silence hangs in the air. You stare at him, your brain taking a moment to catch up with his words. It’s like you’re moving in slow motion, processing the firmness in his voice, the way he looks at you with heavy countenance. 

You are going to marry the Kim family heir.

A high-pitched ringing starts in your ears and you feel the buzz of panic start to tingle at the base of your spine. Your fingers dig into the arms of your chair a little, trying to fight the staccato rhythm of your heart from getting out of control. 

“What?” you ask. It feels dumb, compared to the eloquence you’re capable of. 

“Kim Yijun is a perfect match,” he says simply. “He’s in line to inherit the Kim Syndicate. There is tension with the Yong family, and I will not lie to you: they have a far larger reach than we would like. They don’t do things the old way like the Choi and Kim families. They have started to ally themselves with the Arash family in Veridian, giving them cuts and room in our city to spread their reach outside the bounds of their own city.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“The Kim and Choi families have been united before. They’ve always been our first ally in times of city upheaval and Syndicate war, and they, like us, don’t believe in letting outsiders have a seat at the table. The Yong family don’t understand that, and are willing to let vermin have scraps if it means scooting us out.”

“I’m-” you shake your head. “You can’t ask that of me.”

“I’m not asking.” He reaches for a lighter and picks up the cigar. He takes a moment to relight it, taking his focus off of you. You feel your pulse spiking, your grip on the chair like iron. “I am telling you that this is what your future will be. I understand you like the Kwon boy, but-”

You sneer, baring your teeth. “The Kwon boy? Don’t reduce him to some stranger. Soonyoung grew up in this house, he is family. And I don’t just like him, I love him. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you bullying him because you’re frustrated that I love him. You love him too.” 

“I do. I love him like my own. But he is not for you.”

“He is. I will not marry Yijun. I am asking you not as a member of this Syndicate, but as your daughter to drop this machination from your plans. I am your blood, you cannot ask this of me.”

“I told you, I am not asking. I am telling you.” 

A tremor starts in your hands. Your heart races so fast that you feel sick, sweat slicking your skin as you begin to pant sharply. The ringing in your ears grows until you feel disconnected to it, like suddenly you’re living in third person. You’re aware that you’re hyperventilating and yet, suddenly it’s separate from you.

Standing abruptly, you feel the world tilt. You take a second to steady yourself, feeling the numb tingle spread throughout you like a flood. 

“Sit down,” your father demands. You hear the warning. Recognize the firmness in it. This is the Tower of the Choi Syndicate speaking, not your father. 

“Take this as my resignation from the family,” you tell him. Your voice doesn’t feel like your own, steady and without inflection. “I’ll renounce my inheritance and will not use the Choi family for any connection or advantages-”

“You will not!” 

His voice startles you. Lures you away from the safety of your detachment. You look at him, eyes wide and shaking. His hand is fisted on the armchair, his rage crackling around him like a thunderstorm. “I will not have my only daughter sabotage everything this family has built for the affection of someone unfit for her station. Kwon Soonyoung is a weapon meant to serve you. You will marry Kim Yijun or I will remove the obstacle altogether.” 

Your entire life there have been two versions of your father. The stoic leader of one of the oldest criminal empires in Hyperion, the vicious man who could be cold and calculating, and who was reverently feared by his enemies. The kind father who watched you and Seungcheol study math together, carefully explaining to you how to carry numbers over in the equation. 

It is the former who sits before you now. Someone entirely unfamiliar to you, though you’ve always known he existed. And why would you? Your father has never had to be ruthless with you before, hiding the way he could cut from you until it was necessary. 

Soonyoung knew. You know it with absolute clarity. You remember the fear in his eyes when you had slipped into his room that night asking for a kiss, the way that he is always so careful about when and where he touches you, the way he takes the assignments and the mistreatment without so much as a protest because it means he gets to have you.

“You would kill him?” you whisper, looking your father in the eye. “You promised to take him in when his family was murdered. He had no one, and you promised his father you’d raise him as your own. You would go back on that?” 

He scowls. “If his father knew what he was, he’d kill Soonyoung himself. That boy is a dog to be set upon whoever his owner wishes, who kills with impunity.” You say nothing. I don’t feel like a person. Soonyoung’s words echo in your mind, haunting. “I hold the collar and I will put him down, if need be.” 

“So you raised a pet to be disposed of at your convenience?”

“I raised a boy who should be grateful I haven’t put him in the fucking ground for sullying my only daughter. I let you two have time, and you should be grateful. It is my love for him that has stayed my hand this long. No more. You will marry Kim Yijun, or you will bury that boy. This is the command of your Tower.”

“Mother will not let you-”

“Your mother doesn’t let me do anything. I am the Tower of this family, and it does what I command. You will fall in line.” 

Tears spill from your eyes. You suddenly feel like you’re standing on a cliff, the vertigo of nothingness at the bottom making you sick with fear. Desperation grips at you as you stare at your father, willing him to change his mind. Begging him. 

His pity doesn’t come. There is only resolute silence, watching as you crumple in front of him, knees going weak as you abruptly sit - fall - on the floor. You bury your face in your hands, grief for something lost stealing your ability to maintain control before you’ve even given an answer. 

I’m not made for you. 

Soonyoung had tried to tell you a long time ago and you’d brushed him off. Of course he was made for you. He was all you’ve ever wanted, and you’ve always been given what you wanted. You made him whole, and he you. How could you not be made for one another. 

“Please don’t do this to me. Daddy,” you whisper, trying to appeal to him with the little girl he loves. “Please, I love him.” 

“Lan will escort you to your room.” You ignore his words, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, willing the tears to stop. You know later you’ll feel pathetic for the display of emotion, for the meltdown in the face of adversity. “You will announce your engagement at the end of the week.”

“Yes, Tower.”

“If you so much as remotely try to sneak around with him, I will put him in the ground and bear the weight of that grief for eternity.” 

“Yes, Tower.”

“Know that I love you. We must make sacrifices for this family we wish not to. But you will make the sacrifice like I have so many times before. So will Soonyoung.” 

You stand, limbs shaky as you look at your father, the heat of your mother’s rage fueling your gaze. “Yes, Tower.”

Sleep claws at you with greedy fingers, unwilling to give you up to the waking light of day. You groan, suspended in that moment of almost awake but achingly unaware. A brush of warm skin on your arm pulls you the rest of the way from heavy sleep, your thoughts sticky as they formulate and you open your eyes, squinting in the gray light of your room. 

Squinting at the clock displayed on your nightstand, you realize it’s late morning. The tinted windows of your room keep out the sunlight, but a single panel has been adjusted to let some of the cloudy day in, a single shaft of gray spilling into your room like muddy water. 

Warmth presses behind your back, the steady touch on your arm trailing up and down. For a second, you lean back into it, feeling your head thud against Soonyoung’s chest, his mouth pressing against the crown of your head. He drags his fingers up and down your arm absently, light as a feather. He smells like soap, a hint of his familiar vanilla and sandalwood. 

“Have trouble sleeping?” the words are mumbled against you. 

“Hmm?”

“There’s lines of crushed knockout on your nightstand, Baby.” 

You look at the nightstand. Sure enough, the white pills you crushed are dusted across the surface. The reality of why you used them slams into you so suddenly that you stiffen, muscles locking.

Soonyoung notices immediately, his touch stilling. “What?”

Finding the words is impossible. You don’t know where to start, your father’s words make you dizzy. The sheets stick to your skin, Soonyoung’s warmth too hot to stand. You scramble from bed, kicking at the sheets and putting distance between you as you bolt toward the bathroom. 

“Hey,” he calls after you. You don’t turn to look at him, the cool tile giving you goosebump as the lights flicker on. You close the door behind you firmly, pressing your back against it. Soonyoung’s knocks are immediate, his voice calling your name on the other side. “What’s wrong?” 

The use of your name sours your stomach. You lurch forward, diving for the toilet as the contents of your stomach empty. The bile burns, your eyes watering as you press against the cold porcelain, clinging to it for life. 

Soonyoung opens the door, letting himself in as you heave again. He’s quick to react, opening the medicine cabinet to remove an anti-nausea inhalent. He wordlessly pads over to you, crouching down to extend it toward you. 

You avoid looking at him directly in the eye as you snatch it from him. His brows are pinched in concern, face swollen with what little sleep he got and mouth turned downward. Your stomach roils again but holds as you crack the inhalent and wave it under your nose, breathing in gently. 

The stimulant makes your eyes water, but immediately the churning in your stomach subsides. You close your eyes for a moment, breathing in and out slowly, trying to regulate yourself. Soonyoung watches in silence, his hands opening and closing at his sides like he wants to reach out and touch you but doesn’t. 

When you open your eyes, there is so much love and concern on his face that you almost break right then and there. Instead, you clear your throat and straighten, tossing the medication in the trash.

“Thanks, just hungover. I need to shower.”

He looks doubtful. “Alright.”

Soonyoung stands, heading to the shower. You clear your throat and he pauses, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Alone, please.” 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just want to shower.” 

He says your name again. Not Baby. Not any other derivative. Your name. “You can talk to me.”

Your heart cracks. You panic. Your brain races for the only viable option. “I just want to take a fucking shower, Soonyoung.” You push yourself off the ground, scowling at him. He moves out of your way as you pass him, stunned to silence. “I don’t need you crowding my space every five seconds.” 

Refusing to look at him as you hit the panel in the wall, you instead focus on the water that falls from the ceiling, a storm of heat and the smell of peppermint. You keep your back turned toward him, staring at the water as it heats, steam curling in tendrils where it hits the stone tiles. 

“You can go,” you say sharply. 

“Alright.” 

The gentle click of the door when he leaves is barely audible over the hum of the shower. You let the rushing water lull you into a state of numbness, peeling your clothes off with unsteady, mechanical movements. 

Hot water slicks off your shoulders. You close your eyes and hang your head, letting the feel of the peppering water sluice over your ears, eyes, nose, mouth. You let it blind your senses to nothing but the roar of water, blotting out everything else. 

If I stay right now, you will never get me to leave. 

You remember when Soonyoung whispered it against your skin just a few years ago, spoken carefully and clearly, a promise and a warning. He would never let you go. You had to let him go. Telling him what your father has asked of you - has threatened to take away from you - will only make Soonyoung’s feet dig in further.

For as long as you’ve known him, Soonyoung has been a covetous creature. You remember the night at the club he antagonized you just to see that spark of want, just to prove to himself it was him you wanted. You remember the way he clung to you in the dark of your bedroom, the only person who could ever make him whole. Who could make him feel. 

Your father sees Soonyoung as a loyal attack dog - but it isn’t the Tower of the Choi Syndicate who holds Soonyoung’s collar. It never has been. Soonyoung has never asked your father how high. 

Pressing your palms to your eyes, you start deep breathing exercises. In through your nose, out through your mouth. The shaking in your fingers begins to subside, the logic part of your brain turning on. 

The threat on Soonyoung’s life is real. You saw the resolve in your father’s eye, the painful glint. He would hate to do it, but he would do it. You’re entwined too deep into your family’s affairs and business to vanish. There is nothing in the world you have that’s your own, no assets that are not connected to them in some way.

And if you tell Soonyoung, he’ll face the problem like he does everything that stands in his way: try to kill it. 

For a split moment, your brain chases the thought like a mouse after cheese. Like a long math problem, you work out if it’s possible to commit patricide and get away with it. Your mother will never forgive you, but Seungcheol might. Your friends would - they’re loyal to you, especially Jeonghan and Angel. 

The older generation, though- 

You toss aside the thought almost as quickly as you thought of it - not because you don’t want to kill your father, but because it isn’t possible. Not just like that. There are too many pieces on the chessboard, too many domino effects spreading out in every direction if you take that route.

No. There is only a single path for you, set in motion by a hand with more power than you. 

And there’s only one way you can move forward with Soonyoung. 

There’s so much of your mother’s side of the family you’ve inherited. Her side has always been associated with the phoenix, the burning immortality of their name and their strength, a blazing glory. Your maternal relatives have always been the rage and the fire that was needed for a Syndicate to advance, a good partnership for the Choi’s who were cold and steadfast. 

What you need now is the winter of the mountain, not the rage of the phoenix. You need to be a Choi. 

Steadfast is the mountain. 

You love Soonyoung. You love him you love him you love him youlovehimyoulovehimyoulovehimYOULOVEHIMYOULOVEHIM- 

Pressing your fist to your mouth, you bite down for one, blinding moment of untapped rage. You feel your skin break, taste iron and salt, feel pain bloom. 

Steadfast is the mountain. 

Then it’s gone. You drop your hand from your mouth. Open your eyes. Turn off the shower. The rage is gone, buried beneath a layer of newly formed ice. If there is anyone you can do this for, it’s Soonyoung. You love him. You will destroy him. But he’ll be alive. 

Soonyoung is sitting on your bed when you open the door. He’s got a tablet in his hand, the holographic images displaying above the screen, haloing his face in blue light. There are circles under his eyes and his teeth worry at his bottom lip, which is chapped. He’s shirtless, the compact planes of his body half shadowed by the single shaft of light filtering through a window. 

He looks up at you but you ignore him, heading to your closet. The silence is brutal. You push through it, opening the closet doors to reveal a massive space nearly the same size of your bathroom. Track lights kick on, rows and rows of clothes by color greeting you. In the middle, there is an island counter, filled with drawers and biolocked jewelry safes. 

Soft steps tell you Soonyoung is standing at the entrance of the closet. You still don’t face him, walking over to your section of black clothes. You flick through them, eyes scanning. Black seems appropriate. It feels like death, afterall. 

Soonyoung’s voice is soft as his late night kisses. “What’s going on?” 

“I’m marrying Kim Yijun.” 

A beat passes. Then another. 

“Is that supposed to be a joke? I’m not interested in pranks this morning.”

“It’s not a prank.” You pull out a black, silk dress. “The Tower has asked this of me, and I’ll be doing it.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

You continue, undeterred as you put the dress back and keep looking. “The Kim family has agreed to the match ahead of the rising tensions with the Yong Syndicate and their new take on foreign allies. A united front of the old families will benefit our family-”

“You’re not fucking marrying Kim Yijun.” 

“All of the metrics we’ve run for public opinion and potential city-wide reaction are favorable. The Tower needs his children to fall in line, and I intend to do so.”

Soonyoung storms toward you. You turn on your heel, holding a finger out to him, voice severe, “Don’t come near me.” 

“Why? Because you know you’ll lose your resolve? Because the second I touch you, you’ll drop whatever bravado this is and let me help you?”

Exactly that. He knows you inside and out. Sees through the front. It doesn’t matter. You don’t need him to believe you, you need him to obey. 

He takes another step and you back up. “I will scream,” you threaten, venom in your voice. “I will scream and Seungcheol and Vernon are right down the hall. Whose side do you think they’ll take, with your reputation for violence?” 

“Fuck you, they know I’d never hurt you.”

You hear the waver in his voice. That tiny sliver of doubt, so small and tiny but there. They do know he would never hurt you, but Soonyoung isn’t convinced they’d believe him. It makes you sick, but you latch onto it, unspooling that tiny bit of hurt. “Do they, Soonyoung? I hear some of them call you a mad dog because you attack with no regard for anything. Do you really think they trust you entirely with me?”

Soonyoung is raging. His chest rising and falling, shaking his head back and forth as he tries to understand. You’re rooted to the spot, muscles coiled, pulse thudding in your throat. “You are not,” he growls. “Marrying Kim Yijun. You don’t even want to, don’t try to lie to me about your feelings or insult me thinking you can bait me. You love me. You are mine.” 

“I belong to the Choi family and it’s what my family needs from me. I will do my duty.”

“Fuck your family!” His roar makes you flinch, briefly closing your eyes. His palm slams on the top of the countertop in front of him, sharp in the silence. “You have a duty to me. I told you I would not fucking let you go. You’re not doing it. I’ll fucking kill him, you think I won’t? I’ll murder every last one of them-” 

“You don’t tell me what to do, Kwon Soonyoung. I will do this, and you will obey.” He bristles, going rigid as your words land like a slap. “When I say jump, you say how high. You’ve always known that.” 

For a second, he cracks. The Soonyoung you first saw on your doorstep, crying and round-cheeked and ruddy returns. His lip trembles and the way he looks at you nearly melts your iron will. You’re so close to collapsing, to laying it out before him, to risking it all. 

“Don’t do this to me.” His whisper is made of glass. Delicate. He presses his palm to his chest, right over his heart. Earnest. “I can’t - you know I can’t. I- please. I can’t do this.” 

Licking your lips, you look him in the eyes. His eyes are your favorite. Dark. Stormy. Endless. They are lined with silver, panic rippling across the surface. 

You lift your chin and push back your shoulders. “You can and you will, because I told you to jump, Soonyoung. Now ask how high.” 

Sunlight warms the back of your neck, humidity clinging to your skin like a second layer. You take a deep breath, though the steamy air offers no relief. You snap open a silk fan, waving it in front of your face in hopes of chasing away some of the sweat, feeling the separation between skin and makeup the longer you sit in the wretched heat of the garden. 

It’s not even real sunlight or heat. You can’t tell beyond the projection in the room, but you know that there are vents heating up the room and controls that make the air humid and sticky, making it feel like you’re sitting in a real garden outside somewhere lush. 

Lin drones on and on about something. You tuned her out long ago, eyes flickering back and forth to your watch and the women’s faces around you. None of them here are really your friend - not in the way Angel is, the way Wonwoo or Jeonghan are. 

Yet you’re expected to be here, entertaining the upper echelon wives of the Choi and Kim Syndicates, boiling away in an imaginary garden while you sweat to death, dress clinging to your skin and thighs slippery in the seat as you adjust yourself, uncomfortable. 

“It’s hot as a motherfucker,” a whispered voice comes from next to you. You look up to see the newly engaged heiress of Nexus Capital next to you, glaring behind the dark shade of her sunglasses as Lin continues rambling about something. “Couldn’t she have made it less real?”

A smirk twitches on your lips. You haven’t spoken to her much, but her recent engagement to Xu Minghao had secured the position the Choi Syndicate had been fighting for in the shipping yards and docks with the Yong family, elevating her family into the favored circle of your father.

Suddenly, you remember who had recommended that marriage in the first place. You remember the party, the pretty dress you wore, Soonyoung’s hand briefly on your waist as he kissed you goodbye for a meeting. You had no idea then that your throwaway comment about an arranged marriage to benefit your family would become your own nightmare under an hour later.

Grief is a funny thing. You never knew that you could feel grief for someone who isn’t dead, yet sometimes you feel such an overwhelming amount of grief at the hole that Soonyoung has left behind that you can’t breathe. 

Throat dry, you reach for water, drinking eagerly. You feel a bead of water run down your face, but you ignore it in favor of trying to focus on not panicking. 

Anxiety attacks are new for you. Though your entire life has been colored with stressful situations unique to growing up in a criminal Syndicate, you could never say that you were anxious before. At least not in the way that made the back of your neck too hot and the tips of your fingers buzz with the threat of a looming meltdown. 

You ignore it. It’s all you know how to do. The anxiety medication your therapist gave you doesn't work, and you can’t crush a bunch of pills and inhale them anytime you feel like you’re about to get tunnel vision and spiral. 

Well, you suppose you can, but you’re trying not to get into the habit. 

Instead of acknowledging the way the panic lurks around your edges like a predator waiting to pounce, you listen to the dull conversation around you. Focus on the gossip that you don’t care about, exactly, but know it’s good to have. 

Since marrying into the Kim family, you’re not sure what your job is. With your family, your role as the face, the legacy and the representation of the Choi Syndicate had always been clear and obvious. Now, your husband sends you to stupid things like this with preening people that you don’t like and makes you leave events early when he’s irritable. 

Gossip is a weapon, though. So you gather it when you can, taking in bits of information and storing it for yourself. Rarely do you offer it to Yijun - not that he would take it - but Jeonghan finds the information you share useful. So does Angel, but there’s rarely anything you know that she doesn’t. 

Just as your anxiety begins to fade, the source of it materializes. 

At first, you think you’re seeing things when a door appears in the wall depicting an apple orchard and Soonyoung strolls out into the fake-sun. You blink dumbly, spine tingling as you realize that your mind is not playing tricks on you and it is him. 

He sees you immediately. His dark eyes burn like embers, pinning you to the spot. His face remains motionless but you see his jaw tick, the only sign that he is immediately on edge when he sees you. He’s dressed for work in an all black suit, required for the Swords of the Choi family. 

Giggles breakout around the table as he approaches, the ladies around you all flushed cheeks and demure smiles. You feel the buzzing start in your hands again, this time worse. It goes up your arms, working its way to your chest as the anxiety increases tenfold, heart pounding.

Soonyoung bows. “I beg your pardon, ladies.” 

“My goodness, Soonyoung,” Lin preens. “You must be horribly hot in that suit, but you do look handsome.”

You fight the urge to snarl at her that the imitation of the garden isn’t real and no amount of pretending will make it real. You even imagine reaching across the table and plunging her fish knife into her hand. Instead, you watch Soonyoung, your hummingbird heart fluttering. 

He gives her a polite smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll be alright. I apologize for interrupting, but the Tower of the Choi family has sent me to escort his daughter home.” 

“Home?” 

“The Choi Estate.” 

He doesn’t say what he means: the Kim Estate is not your home. 

“Alright,” you say, voice reedy. Your hands are trembling as you slide your chair from the table, the metal legs grinding loudly against concrete. You flinch at the sound, hyper aware of every bead of sweat crawling down your spine, every beat of your heart that is too fast, too hard.

Static fills you as you mumble parting words to the women who watch you in confusion. At least, you think you mumble your goodbyes. Blood rushes in your ears as you take uneven steps toward Soonyoung, who turns on his heel and starts marching toward the apple orchard. 

It feels like you’re in an echo chamber. Everything suddenly feels hollow and everything sounds as though you’re hearing it through a thin wall. Muted. Dull. He opens the door that you can’t quite spot even this close, ushering you inside as your vision starts tunneling to a narrow point, everything else blurry and distorted. 

No. No no no no no. 

Lifting your hands, you glance down at them to see them trembling, opening and closing your fists in an attempt to stop the buzzing feeling, as though you could will it away. You think Soonyoung says something but you can’t hear him over the roar of panic that grips you and tears you sideways.

Instead of following him down the hall, you lurch toward a different hall, rushing toward the powder room. It feels like the walls are narrowing as you throw open the door, breath coming out in pants. Everything feels tight and compact, crushing smaller still. 

Stumbling to the sink you try to turn the faucet on. Once. Twice. Cold water spits from the faucet and you gasp, leaning down over the sink to splash freezing water into your face. It doesn’t have the desired effect, the water is not cool enough to shock you out of your panic. 

Soonyoung speaks behind you. You can’t hear him, the grip of your anxiety so strong that you grab the edges of the sink to keep you up right. You’re heaving now, heart rattling so hard you think that maybe you’re having a heart attack instead. 

A firm grip wretches your attention from the porcelain sink to the mirror, where you see your dripping reflection, eyes blown like saucers. Soonyoung is standing behind you, a hand on your bicep, squeezing. His face is no longer a mask of indifference, but one of confusion. 

His mouth moves and you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “I can’t,” you gasp, ragged. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.” 

Then, he does something that catches you entirely off guard. You watch in slow motion as he steps back and removes the gun from the holster underneath his suit jacket. You hear the safety on the gun click and the hum as the weapon charges, ready to fire rounds of plasma if he squeezes the trigger. 

And then he points the gun at your head, the lights on it flipping from blue to red, signaling it’s ready to kill. 

The world stops. The panic vanishes for a split second, replaced with utter shock as you stare at him in the mirror. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” you demand, voice stronger than you expect. 

Soonyoung is ten levels of crazy, but he’s never pointed a gun at you before. You stare at him, open-mouthed and wondering if he’ll do it. If he could pull the trigger. He’d told you a hundred times when you were together that he would never let you go and it was always with clarity that you understood what he meant: it’s me or no one. 

With stark clarity, you realize there’s no reason for Soonyoung not to pull the trigger. He doesn’t care much about the value of his own life from what you can glean over the last two years, and he doesn’t really seem to care about yours. 

Not that he should. You promised to make him feel human and you did. Then you took it away from him, leaving him adrift in a vast ocean of nothing alone and untethered. 

No, you don’t think you inspire Soonyoung to feel human anymore. If anything, you probably make him want to be the worst version of himself. 

Soonyoung’s voice holds no emotion when he asks, “Are you with me?”

“Why are you pointing a gun at me?” 

“Breathe,” he says instead. He doesn’t lower the weapon, stormy eyes focused on yours. “Breathe,” he repeats. “Slowly, maybe.” 

“Soonyoung, you are holding a gun at me, what do you mean breathe?” 

“What do you mean what do I mean? I mean what I fucking said. Breathe normally.”

“Lower the gun!” He does. “What the fuck?”

He breaks eye contact, sliding the weapon back into his suit jacket. He turns away from you as though he didn’t have you at gunpoint a second ago. “You were having a panic attack. Sometimes a shock to the system stalls it. Your breathing has slowed down now. And you’re not panicking.” 

A beat of silence passes. Then, “So you leveled a gun at my head?” 

“It worked. Let’s go.”

“Are you fucking crazy?”

“Yes. Now let’s go. You’re needed at the Choi Estate.”

“Why?” 

“Do I look like I have all the answers? I just do what I’m told. When a Choi says jump, remember?”

You visibly flinch as his words land. Soonyoung doesn’t wait for you to gather yourself, spinning on his heel and exiting the powder room to stride through the halls. Tightness gathers in your chest, left over from your anxiety attack. 

Pressing your hands against your dress to wipe the sweat from them, you chase after Soonyoung. He’s already by the apartment’s elevator, jamming his finger into the button. He doesn’t look at you as he waits, content to stare at the metal door. 

You don’t know where else to look - you want to look anywhere but him. Turning around, you fixate on the floor to ceiling windows. It’s still morning outside, but it’s hard to tell with the way the clouds block out the view, turning everything to mist. 

This high up in the city is reserved for the elite. You can’t imagine why - there’s nothing to look at but clouds, clouds, and more clouds. It’s what makes them have virtual reality rooms in the first place, trying to recreate the experience that they might have if they were wealthy enough to own land. 

The sound of the elevator arriving makes you flinch. Soonyoung ignores you, getting in and leaning against the wall as he hits a button to go to the parking garage. You scramble in after him, a little breathless as the doors close just behind you. 

Immediately you start shooting down several floors. He glares at the wall, unseeing and unfeeling. You swallow thickly, watching the numbers decrease until you’re at Lin’s private parking garage. Soonyoung is out of the elevator before it finishes opening all the way, storming toward the car he’s left running idle. 

Normally someone would open a car door for you. Instead, Soonyoung gets in the driver’s seat and slams the door shut. You reach for the handle of the passenger seat and pause. Normally you sit in the back when being driven somewhere, it’s always been like that. But this is Soonyoung and you’ve always been beside him in the car, his equal. 

A muffled get in the fucking car reaches you. Deciding that sitting next to him is too personal, you open the back seat and slide in. You’ve barely shut the door when he punches the gas, slamming you into the back of the seat as he goes. 

“Would you stop being an asshole?” you seethe, ripping the seatbelt from next to you to buckle in. Your hands are still shaking and it takes a moment for the clasp to click.

Instead of answering, you hear the way the car accelerates under his foot. Scowling, you look out the window. He speeds into the lift that brings the car down to the ground floor. Lights blur by as the lift drops at lurching speed, your stomach in your throat. You hate coming to apartments for this reason, the feeling of having to freefall to leave never growing on you. 

It’s raining when the lift opens to the wet street. Soonyoung peels out on the pavement, tires spinning until they gain traction and the car slides onto the road, narrowly missing someone. You slam against the seatbelt, cursing and clinging onto the door as he pushes the gas down, engine roaring.

“Are you trying to kill us?”

Soonyoung doesn’t answer you. You think it might be because he’s not explicitly trying to kill the two of you, but he doesn’t care if he does. You try not to think about it so much as he powers through the streets of the Upper City, driving past towering businesses, luxury districts with entertainment and bars and apartment buildings. 

The road starts to incline and you hit a line of trees. The city vanishes behind you as Soonyoung drives the car up the winding road, leaving a world of metal and lights for greenery and earth. The contrast between the cities below and the Estates above is stark, especially as he drive’s higher up the mountain, snatches of the city below visible. 

“Why did you come to get me?” you ask, flicking your gaze to the rearview mirror to watch him. Soonyoung keeps his eyes on the road, but you see his mouth tighten. “Last I checked you’re not an errand boy.”

“So what, you check on me?”

“It’s a figure of speech, you know what I mean.”

“The Tower personally requested I come get you.” 

That gives you pause. Soonyoung’s face reveals nothing as he turns on the street that will inevitably lead to the massive metal wall that blocks off the world from the Choi Estate. There can only be a single reason why Soonyoung was sent to fetch you when usually your husband’s staff would do so.

“What’s happened?” 

Soonyoung doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he rolls the window down at the guard house to show his face. The security team recognizes him immediately, waving him through as the gate begins to slide open to reveal lush, green jungle. 

Gravel crunches underneath the car tires as he drives through the winding foliage on Choi grounds. Your great-great-grandfather had built the Choi compound, the first of the few elite houses on the mountain. He thought it was important to keep the plant life and sprawling greenery to conserve, but you knew it was really about power. Symbolism. Greenery didn’t really exist in the city, and this much space and plantlife meant wealth. 

The sprawling estate you grew up in reveals itself. Multiple buildings dot the property, making it more a family compound than an estate. Now that Seungcheol is old enough, he’s moved out of the main house and into one of the smaller homes, occupying the space with his own men and staff. Still, he’s just a brief stroll away from your childhood home.

Home. Even two years under a Kim family banner hasn’t erased the feeling of home for you. There is nothing in the house you share with Yijun that makes it feel like you. It is as devoid of love as your marriage, merely a placeholder for you to sleep, eat, and occasionally, try to produce an heir. 

Soonyoung pulls up to the long building that serves as a garage, hitting a button on the car’s screen to open one of the bays. He pulls in slowly, the outside world fading as the garage door shuts behind the car, dousing it in darkness until the neon lights above flicker on. 

Without a word, he powers off the vehicle and gets out. Taking a deep breath, you square your shoulders and get out of the car. He doesn’t wait for you - even shuts the door as he enters the main house so you’re forced to lug it open. 

He’s already opening the door to the main house a few yards away, forcing you again to haphazardly navigate gravel in your heels as you give chase. You’re sweating and irritated by the time you’re up the steps and pushing through the front door, a nasty quip on your lips ready until you see your aunt coming down the stairs. 

“Oh thank goodness,” she says, seeing you. She looks older than you remember, the lines of her face deep and the hair at her temples gray. “Come along.”

“What’s going on?” you ask, uncertain as you step into the foyer and let her take your arm. 

She scowls. “Did that useless boy not tell you? Your mother suffered a heart attack this morning. She’s with Dr. Ymir in the medical wing.”

Your heart thuds to a stop as you wheel around to look over your shoulder at Soonyoung. His gaze is stormy but his face gives away nothing as he turns to leave the way he came, slamming the front door and vanishing down the steps to leave you alone. 

“No,” you mumble as your aunt pulls you down the hall. “He didn’t tell me.” 

Because that’s how much Soonyoung hates you. Hate isn’t even the right word, you think. It is something far deeper and far more sinister, fueled only by taking away something that he valued more than anything else in the world and forcing him to live with it. 

I deserve this, you think as the door to one of the private medical rooms opens, a clinical smell hitting you in the face. I deserve everything that happens to me. 

I deserve this. It’s all you can think of as you watch the black casket lower into the ground. Seungcheol stands beside you, his hands linked in front of him. You want to reach out and take his hand in yours, but you don’t want him to look weak. Don’t want others to see him crack like you know he will if you comfort him. 

Instead, you comfort yourself as best you can, which isn’t saying much. You’ve never been good at dealing with your feelings, too much of your mother’s blood running through you. It was your father’s least favorite trait of yours and perhaps Soonyoung’s favorite.

Soonyoung, who has always been your emotional tether and outlet. You’re not accustomed to dealing with grief alone, and the pull of it feels like an undertow threatening to drag you under and drown you. 

Someone shifts behind you, close enough that you feel Yijun next to you stiffen. You turn to look over your shoulder, blinking in surprise as you tilt your head up to see Soonyoung. He doesn’t look at you, dark eyes fixed forward and jaw flexing tightly. He’s standing closer than is necessary, as shown by your husband’s scoff. 

Soonyoung doesn’t move, though. He remains nearly pressed against your back, so close that you can smell vanilla and sandalwood. Turning away from him, you feel your shoulders relax. He ignores you, but he’s there, a stoic guardian that’s just out of reach.

The Tower of the Choi Syndicate is too lost in his grief to notice or care about Soonyoung’s proximity to you. Your brother couldn’t care less, barely realizing that his brother by choice is an inch away from him. But you know Soonyoung is there and that’s all that matters. 

The grief lessens, turning back from churning waters to gentle, lapping waves.

“Your brother doesn’t respect me,” Yijun asserts. You look at him in the bathroom mirror. He’s standing behind you in the closet, taking out glinting cufflinks to replace them in the countertop in the middle of the aisles of clothes. “You should work on that.”

“Seungcheol hardly takes what I say to heart.”

Yijun snorts, detecting the lie before you can even get it out. Seungcheol very much values your insight and opinion far more than he’s interested in Yijun’s. He’s made it clear at multiple parties and events now, often asking you how business is and how the shared Kim-Choi accounts are doing, despite not having anything to do with them. 

Seungcheol hates your role within the Kim family. On more than one occasion he’s recommended Yijun make use of you somewhere in the family business, to make you the head of operation somewhere so that your schooling and experience weren’t going to waste. Yijun asserted that your social skills were being put to perfect use, entertaining the wives of his associates and serving as the perfect host when his business colleagues and friends were over. 

“He’s going to be leading the family soon,” Yijun sighs. “It would be better for us if he saw me as a real ally.”

“He does see you as an ally. You’re married to his sister.”

“Exactly, so you should remind him that I’m family.” It doesn’t sound like a threat, but it also doesn’t sound like a request. Sighing, you shut the drawer in the counter forcefully. It draws his attention, gaze darkening. “Don’t you want your brother to respect your husband?”

No, you think. You don’t respect your husband, so why should Seungcheol?

Instead, you sigh. “Of course, Yi.” He doesn’t soften at the nickname. “I’ll talk to him, alright? He’s got a lot going on. And don’t talk about my father’s health that way.”

“I didn’t say anything about his health.”

“Please,” you snort. “I know what you meant about Cheol taking over soon.” 

Yijun had been talking about Seungcheol more and more. You’ve watched with a sour taste in your mouth as your husband tries to earn your brother’s attention and trust, flashing what he thinks Seungcheol cares about in his face, telling him about the new car he acquired, or the historical art piece you purchased at an auction, and the new apartment building he’s constructing. 

Seungcheol doesn’t give a fuck about any of that. The Choi family never has. Your ancestors didn’t make a name for themselves and carve it on the mountain they built their home on by showing off their wealth and what it could do for them. They did it by earning it, and by remaining steadfast and intelligent. Political. 

Yijun understands none of that. As the eldest son of his family, it’s a shame. The real world of the Syndicates is lost on him. He has enough business acumen to run companies under his father’s careful tutelage and instruction, but he doesn’t have the social savvy for it, the right drive. 

His brother does. You think of Kim Minchan and nearly shiver. The middle child of the Kim family has more than enough understanding of the way that things work, but the ocean of blood behind him is enough for you to prefer Yijun leading the Kim Syndicate any day. 

“I’m just saying,” Yijun grunts, flicking off the lights in the closet. “Your brother has all the reason in the world to respect me and he doesn’t.” He looks at you, face hardening. “Do you tell him not to? Is that what it is? His baby sister tells him how useless her husband is?” 

Danger is in the air. Yijun won’t lay a hand on you, but it doesn’t make this dance any less stressful. You turn away from the mirror, looking at him fully. He’s not terrible to look at - he has a sharp jaw and a broad nose and a pleasant shaped mouth. He’s handsome, even. 

He’s not Kwon Soonyoung. 

Swallowing away the thought, you reach up to put your hands on his chest, placating. “I wouldn’t do that,” you assure him, softening your voice. You hate the sound of your voice, hate the way you pitch it low and gentle. “You’re a reflection of me too. I would never let my brother think any of those things about my husband.” 

Yijun swats your hands away, making you grit your teeth. “Don’t act like a whore. Just - tell your brother. I should be in his inner circle by now. Make it happen.” 

As Yijun leaves the bathroom, the urge to grab him by his collar and yank him back in to smash his head on the counter almost wins. You stare at him until he vanishes in the bedroom, your rage a live, sentient thing. You feel it crawl beneath your skin, slithering and clawing and biting and begging to be let out. 

Steady is the mountain. You take that fire and shove it down. Years of instinct of reacting with your mother’s temper peter out slowly. It’s a shame - you’re the last woman left from her side of the family, the only one who can carry the fire of the phoenix. 

You glare at the bedroom. Somewhere, Yijun lurks, getting into bed. Oh how the shadows of the weak choke out the fire of the strong. 

If killing Yijun wouldn’t risk everything, you’d have done it already. That first month spent with him where you realized this would not only be a loveless marriage, but a hateful one had almost driven you to it. The Choi Syndicate could surely survive a war with the Kim Syndicate - you had better assets, stronger loyalties, and more money. 

But if the Kim family turned to the Yong family… 

Avoiding unification of the Kim and Yong families is why you were married to Kim Yijun in the first place. To murder him now would mean Syndicate war, and despite the fact that every moment with him is hateful and poisonous, you’re too nervous to put your family at risk. 

Especially with your father’s failing health, as Yijun had pointed out. 

Syndicate war isn’t the only thing keeping you from stabbing Kim Yijun until you can’t feel anything anymore. Minchan’s shadow of a presence lingers over your thoughts, one of the few threats you truly fear. Any harm to his brother would elevate Minchan to a position where he could only wield his power more. 

And he’d hunt you like a bloodhound. You’re unsure if there is any corner of the world he would leave unturned if you killed his brother, no matter how much it would benefit him if Yijun keeled over tomorrow. 

Inside your bedroom is dark. It doesn’t feel like your bedroom at all. There’s nothing homey about it, no possession or unique decor, no pictures. You wouldn’t sleep in here at all if Yijun didn’t make you, insisting that he couldn’t trust any of the house staff not to tell your father you weren’t sleeping in the same room. 

Your father doesn’t care. He stopped caring about anything the day you put your mother into the dirt. Even if he hadn’t, as long as your relationship looked functional to whom it mattered, it mattered little to him if you slept in the same room or if you even liked Kim Yijun.

He’d made that very clear the day he tore away your future with Soonyoung. 

Yijun is already snoring when you climb into bed. You grind your teeth, reaching to pull open the nightstand for noise cancelling earbuds and sleep medication. The medication isn’t as strong as the crushed up knockout you might have used previously, but it helps take the edge off without making you vulnerable to attack. 

Which is something you still worry about. 

Setting your phone on silent, you settle in for sleep. It takes a long time, but you finally drift away to thinking about smothering the man next to you in his sleep. 

Something wakes you. Blinking sleep from your eyes, you sit up in bed and look around the room. It’s dark, but you can see the barely-there outlines of the furniture in your bedroom. Next to you, Yijun is gone. You can feel the lack of presence there more than you can see it, reaching your hand over to confirm the bed is cold and that he’s not been there for a while. 

You reach for the phone on your nightstand but can’t find it. Frowning, you press your hand on the cool marble, sweeping back and forth to no avail. You lean further, finger finding the button to the light function on the stand and press down. 

Dim, lavender light halos the top of the nightstand. Your phone is nowhere in sight. It’s just your jewelry dish, a decanter for water, and your sleep medication. You’re pretty sure that you put your phone face down before you went to bed, but you can’t be sure. 

Pulling open the nightstand drawer only makes the back of your neck sweat. Your phone isn’t there, but neither is the gun you keep in the top drawer. Both you and Yijun sleep armed, despite having armed guards on the premises at all times. 

Snapping the drawer shut, you roll to the other side of the bed and pull his open. A book, a watch, some pill bottles and a pack of cigarettes fill the drawer. No gun. 

The back of your neck tingles. You rip the sheets off of you, heading to the bedroom door. The house is mostly dark when you open it, the entire second floor dim. Leaning over the banister, you can see a shaft of light falling across the room, perhaps coming from the kitchen. 

Quietly, you stalk toward the top of the stairwell, trying to reduce noise as you creep down. A high pitched whine rings in your ears, heart thundering. You have no idea why you’re so afraid all of the sudden, especially in your own house, but your instincts tell you to be alert and quiet. 

At the foot of the stairs, you confirm the light is coming from the kitchen. It’s not uncommon for people to be in the house in the middle of the night. Official Syndicate business happens at any time, and often goes into the early hours of morning. 

Tonight, it’s not busy. Before you’d gone upstairs to bed, you’d noted that it was a skeleton crew security team for the night, just a few of them at the gate house and walking the premises while you and Yijun returned upstairs for the evening alone. 

Creeping toward the hallway, you pause when you hear voices. You identify Yijun’s voice right away, holding your breath and straining your hearing as he says, “What do you want me to do here?” 

“Keep her contained. Make sure no one from her family can reach her.”

“I already took her phone and her gun.”

Your stomach drops. “Good.” That’s Minchan’s voice, you realize, dread growing tenfold. “The second she finds out the Tower has fallen, she’ll try to run or her brother will try to get her.”

“Or that psycho fuck,” Yijun mutters. 

“You’d be lucky if it was Seungcheol who came to get her. If Kwon Soonyoung comes looking, call me immediately. We’ll make our move in two hours. We’ve got the biggest team outside the Choi estate ready to go in and we’ve got men and women stationed at all the key points.”

“So I’m just supposed to sit here and babysit my wife?”

“Yes.” Minchan’s tone is nonnegotiable. “We’ll leave the guards at the gatehouse but we can’t spare anyone else. This kind of assault requires everyone. The Yong family will take care of the Pearl District and the Salt.” 

Yijun hesitates. “What about the Yoon family? Are they all accounted for?” 

“Yes. I have a team on the crazy one - what do they call her?”

“Angel, I think.”

Minchan laughs. “Demon is more fitting. Stay here. Stay by your phone. We’ll call thirty minutes before we give the signal to link everyone on comms. We do this right, and the Choi Syndicate is gone.” 

Panic presses in for a moment. Your heart hammers. Your hands shake. Bile churns your stomach. It feels like you can’t get enough air, the pieces of what they're talking about falling into place.

The Tower has fallen.

Your father is dead, and in the wake of the crushing blow, the Kim family intends to strike at yours alongside the Yong family. The realization lands like a blow, immediately slapping you out of your panic. 

Fear turns to rage. Rage turns to ice. You are fire, you are the mountain. 

Steadfast is the mountain, but the fire does burn. 

As quietly as you can, you creep up the stairs. You keep turning over your shoulder to ensure Minchan doesn’t leave the kitchen and catch you creeping back toward your bedroom. When you hit the second floor landing, you all but sprint to your room, gears turning. 

Yijun took your phone and intends to keep you locked in the house until they finish their plan. From their discussion, you know they intend to mobilize within two hours, targeting important members of the Choi Syndicate across the city with the help of the Yong family. 

It means you have only a few minutes to warn your family to respond, to prepare and to fight back or strike first. Which is hard to do without a phone, but your husband doesn’t know you nearly as well as he thinks.

Door closed behind you, you flip the lock on the bedroom door and dash for the closet. The lights above come to life, bathing you in ghoulish, grey light. You dive to the floor toward your shelf holding all of your shoes, the carpet burns nothing compared to the pain starting to bloom behind your sternum where your grief builds slowly under your anger. 

Your father is dead. The Kims are going to turn on you anyway. Your marriage to Kim Yijun to secure alliances against the Yong family was for nothing.

You’ve endured for nothing. 

Snatching a pair of boots, you swallow down the bile again. You will not break now, not when there are more important things than the time you’ve wasted withering away in this cold home. Shoving your hand inside the boot, you come into contact with what you were looking for. Your hand closes around the device, yanking it out and powering it on. 

The screen flashes to life. You press one and hold, hearing the buzz on the phone as it begins to ring. You cradle the phone against your shoulder and ear, nearly sick with the adrenaline that is pounding through you, your vision blurring, hands shaking. 

You grab another shoe, this time reaching inside carefully instead of shoving your hand in. The smooth, bone handle of a knife meets your hand and you wrap your fingers around it firmly, pulling it out. 

Soonyoung answers on the fourth ring. “Where are you?” 

“The Kim family has turned on the Chois. They’re mobilizing for a full scale attack in roughly two hours. The Yong family is helping them. They’re at the estate and all over the city - anyone who is important to us regardless of position will need to be warned. The Yong family is handling the Pearl District and the Salt.” 

“How many men are at Yijun’s estate?” You can hear him moving on the other side of the line, something rustling. Perhaps clothes as he gets dressed. “Are you armed?” 

“There are men at the guard house and one walking the perimeter. It’s just me and Yijun inside, I think Minchan is leaving. I’ve got a knife.” 

“Where are you in the house?” 

“Bedroom, second landing to the right and all the way at the end of the hall. There are windows but they don’t open.” 

“Listen to me,” Soonyoung says, voice like ice. “The second we start moving into position to accept the assault, they’ll know something is off. When that happens, Yijun is going to try to kill you, do you understand?” When you say nothing, he asks again, voice louder. “Do you understand?” 

“Yes.”

“I need you to fight back. Either kill him or hold him off until I’m there.” 

“You need to warn-”

“Don’t worry about the fucking Syndicate! We’ll be fine. You’ve given us more than enough time. I need you to be entirely focused on yourself.”

You take a deep breath, letting it out shakily. “Okay.”

“Do you have frostbyte?”

“Maybe? Yijun might have it in the nightstand.”

“Take some. Not enough to fuck you up, but enough to pump that adrenaline and make your head clear. I will be there in thirty minutes.” 

“Okay.” 

You squeeze the phone, unwilling to hang up. It doesn’t matter that you haven’t heard his voice in months. It doesn’t matter that he hates you, it doesn’t matter that you know whatever used to be between you is broken and it’s entirely your fault. You just… don’t want to hang up. 

“Hey.” Soonyoung’s voice is soft, drawing you from your trembling spiral. “Do what I said. Do the frostbyte and kill him if you have to. I have to go.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you in thirty minutes.” Soonyoung pauses, the silence heavy on the line. “I love you.” 

Nothing breaks you like those words, whispered but firm, whispered in case you die before he gets there. He doesn’t have to say that’s why he’s saying it - you know. You know the chance of him not getting there fast enough is likely and real. He does too, but instead of telling you, he gives you this. 

You whisper back, “I love you.” 

Soonyoung hangs up the phone and you fight a sob. You bring the knife up to your hand, pressing your pointer finger down on the tip. The sting is immediate, making you his in pain as blood beads on the tip of your finger, red and garish in the closet lighting. 

The sting grounds you enough to push yourself from the floor, following Soonyoung’s directions to Yijun’s nightstand. You yank it open, rattling around the contents until you find the bag of frostbyte you were hoping was there. Yijun uses it the nights he attempts to put an heir in you, numbing himself the way you never did, taking your punishment for what you’d done to Soonyoung raw.

Not enough to fuck me up, you think, untwisting the bag and shaking. Just enough to make it easier. 

Dipping the tip of your knife into the bag, you pull out a small lump of the glittering drug. You try not to think about that night at the club all those years ago, when you and Soonyoung were still dancing around one another’s feelings, doing anything you could to get a reaction out of one another. 

You take a sharp breath in. The drug hits your nasal passage and it burns, your eyes smarting as you tilt your head up, cursing and blinking away the tears. It hits the back of your throat, bitter and awful as you cough a little, trying to wait for it to clear your nasal passage.

When the burning subsides a little, you do it again. It’s less harsh than the first bump but still just as awful, making you wonder how the fuck you did this on the weekend with your friends as a teenager. Tossing the back on the nightstand, you stand waiting, closing your eyes and trying to do deep breathing exercises your therapist taught you to calm down. 

Frostbyte works fast. It hits your bloodstream and an electric calm comes over you. Everything comes into sharper focus, the adrenaline pumping as your simmering rage turns to a boil, ready to kick the fucking door down and hunt down Yijun yourself.

Nerves fade away to the background of your mind. You walk toward the door, waiting to the side so when Yijun ultimately kicks it down, you’re ready. 

Ten minutes pass. The entire time your ears are ringing, heart thundering in your chest. You think the frostbyte was a good idea - if you had to wait in silence like this without it, you would have gone crazy by now. Even with the drug, fear nips at your ankles, a hound ever on your tail. 

Yijun’s footsteps thunder up the stairs. Your heart lurches and you inch away from the door, readying yourself. He storms down the hall, fury in each step until he gets to the door and turns the handle. It doesn’t move. He tries a few more times, shaking the door. 

His roar on the other side of the door is loud and feral, making you grin as he thrashes against the door, cursing and screaming at you. The door holds, rattling in place as he slams what you think is his shoulder into it multiple times. 

The bombardment pauses for a second and then restarts ten times stronger. This time, you recognize that it’s his foot slamming into the side of the door. You realize he’s kicking where the door is latched, trying to break it open instead of kicking through it. 

A small crack sounds. You take a breath, readying yourself as you hear another snap go through the door, now rattling loose in its frame. He kicks hard again and the door blows open, nearly smacking you as it does. You roll away from it on the wall, keeping close as Yijun barrels past you, swinging his head from left to right as he looks for you.

It’s your only chance to get the jump on him. You slide from the dark, heart hammering. You’ve never stabbed anyone before, but you’ve practiced. You drive the knife upward, intending to puncture his kidneys. Yijun twists a little to the side, sensing your presence as the knife plunges into his side. 

Yijun screams. Your satisfaction only lasts a second before he throws his elbow backward, catching you in the nose. Pain explodes in your face, blinding you as your eyes water and you stumble backward hands shooting to your face. 

Removing the knife from his side, Yijun screams at you, spit flying as he comes at you. Through tears and warm blood rushing from your nose, you reach for anything to use as a weapon. Your hand closes on the ceramic artwork on the dresser and you launch it at him, hitting him hard in the face. 

The ceramic shatters and he drops the knife. You dive for it but he grabs you by the hair, ripping you upward and backward like a ragdoll. You lose your footing, screaming as he tightens his fist in your hair and drags you toward the bed, tossing you there. 

With a feral shout, you kick your foot forward, catching him in the lower gut. He grunts but wraps his hand around your ankle, yanking you back off the bed onto the floor, where the knife lays. You reach for it, seething, your hands managing to close around it just as he pivots, foot landing against your ribcage. 

Again, pain explodes inside of you. With the frostbyte, you barely recognize it, grabbing the knife and stabbing him in the calf. He shrieks and collapses to a knee, reaching for the knife. This time you rip it back out, nearly losing your grip on the bone handle, fingers slippery with blood. 

You stab him again, this time in the thigh. His knee presses into your stomach, crushing you and forcing air from your lungs. You ignore the pain, stabbing him again and again in the thigh until he falls backward off of you, muscles malfunctioning, tendons give away. 

Yijun kicks out at you with his good leg but you’re already moving, ignoring the way your body is screaming in utter agony, every part of you throbbing and begging you to give up. 

You don’t. You scramble on top of him. His hands shoot up to your throat but you spit at him, a spray of blood blinding him and making his grip loosen momentarily. It’s enough to bring the knife down home again, this time directly in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. 

For a second, he fights back. You hear the wet gasp and he thrashes, but you stab him again. And again and again and again and again -

You think about all of the times that you were forced to submit to him. 

And again and again and again - 

The way he heaved himself on top of you, trying to force a child into you so he could be done with you, the way you’d wish it had been Soonyoung instead. 

And again and again and again - 

The way Soonyoung’s face broke that morning, begging you not to do this to him. 

And again and again and again -

All for the Kim family to turn on the Choi’s anyway, wasting the entire time you’ve spent under lock and key, doing Yijun’s bidding while Soonyoung hated you. Loathed you. Wish you never happened to him. 

Again and AGAINANDAGAINANDAGAINAND- 

Yijun isn’t moving under you. Your hand is warm and wet, the knife becoming slippery as you let it go. It clatters to the floor and you sit backward on his knees. He’s unmoving as you heave, sucking down air that tastes like iron and salt. 

Sweat slicks the back of your neck and down your spine. Somewhere in the house, there’s a crashing noise. You leap for the knife, rolling off of Yijun’s mutilated body toward the door, positioning yourself in a defensive position as feet thunder up the stairs. 

You bare your teeth, knowing this is it. Knowing Soonyoung hasn’t come quickly enough but it doesn’t matter, because you warned them and they are safe. Your penance for destroying him has been paid in half, though never full, and -

Soonyoung appears in the doorway. He looks like an angel from hell, wreathed in shallow light that comes from the first floor, his silver hair stained with blood. He’s in black trousers and a short-sleeve shirt with his favorite band on it - one of his sleep shirts. 

For less than a second, he stares at you. Then, Soonyoung dives at you, dropping the gun in his head and grabbing you. You hadn’t realized that you’d sunk to your knees, looking up at him as he grabs your face, turning you this way and that. He’s asking you a question but you can’t understand him, dizzy and confused and in so much pain that the edge of your vision wavers. 

“Baby,” Soonyoung begs, his voice warped and echoey. “Hey, I need you to answer me. Where are you bleeding?” 

“S’mostly his,” you answer, feeling how heavy your tongue is. Your thoughts are sticky and slow. Concussed, you think. “Maybe broke my nose.” 

Soonyoung’s thumb brushes gently across your cheek, smearing blood. “Can you walk if I help you?”  You think about it. Shake your head. “Okay. I’m going to lift you up, alright? Tell me where it hurts so I don’t hurt you, Baby.” 

“Ribs.” 

“Left or right?” 

You pause, breathing in and feeling the pain bloom. “Right.” 

“Okay, tell me if I hurt you, okay? We’re going to take you home.”

“Thank you.” Soonyoung hesitates at your tone, looking at you. His eyes are vulnerable and open, more raw than you have seen them since you were kids. “You didn’t have to come get me.” 

He stares and stares at you. The world fades a little and Soonyoung lifts you toward him. “Of course I did,” he murmurs, so soft you barely hear what he’s saying. “When you say jump, remember?”

“Where's this?” You mumble, looking out the window at a small home behind high gates.

Soonyoung has been driving for an hour and a half, his silence nearly unbearable as you both left the city. You don’t ask about where you’re going or if everyone is okay - you don’t think you can stomach the answers right now. Not while in the car. 

Rain mists through the window as Soonyoung rolls it down to punch in a code in front of the gate. It flashes green and the metal starts to roll open, revealing a large but modest house - at least by Syndicate standards. He drives through, gravel crunching beneath the tires. 

“Safe House. Very few people know it exists.” 

“Are we in Levin?” He nods his head. You’ve never been to the small town, but you know it’s mostly a vacation village on the coast. “Who does this place belong to?” 

“Me.” You look at him, surprised. “I bought it when you… got engaged.” 

It’s like a stone sinking to the bottom of your stomach. You don’t have to ask why. It was his failsafe for you, a way to get you away from Yijun if you had just asked. 

You should have asked. Should have just thrown it away and called him, should have begged him from your knees- 

Soonyoung turns the car off and opens the door. You open yours, rain pattering against your red skin. He rushes to help you out of the car, hands hovering around you, unsure where to touch. It makes you want to sob. You want him to touch you anywhere - everywhere. 

Instead, he leads you to the house, a hand wrapped firmly around your forearm to keep you upright and steady as you walk up the steps. 

A porch light flickers on. You cringe away from the brightness, squinting through your fingers as the door opens to reveal Vernon standing on the other side. His eyes flicker between the two of you and he nods, stepping to the side to let you in. 

Warmth blankets you as Soonyoung shuts the door. You’re standing in a small entryway with a staircase to the right leading to the second floor. Straight on, the lights are on, revealing a sliver of the living room. You can hear voices pause as they hear the door shut. 

Angel materializes in the doorway, her hair damp. She’s dressed down like she recently showered, her eyes on you as she heaves a sigh of relief. “It’s Hoshi and Baby,” she calls over her shoulder, coming forward. 

Soonyoung nudges you toward Angel gently. “Take her to shower.” 

“Yeah of course.” 

“Where’s Seungcheol?” You ask, turning to look at Soonyoung, who is already looking at his phone, holoscreen lighting up his face. 

“On his way. The main crew is safe.” He hesitates. “We lost Lan, Old Man Vero and Yoon Minji.” 

Your heart seizes, eyes darting to Angel. “Angel, I’m-”

“Jeonghan is taking care of it.” For the first time in years, you hear a note of pain in her voice, raw and real. Angel has - had - a complicated relationship with her step-mother, the matriarch of the Yoong family. “I’ve already satiated my vengeance. This is his. Come on.” 

You hesitate. Soonyoung nudges you toward the stairs gently by the hip, suddenly looking tired. “Go. I’m going to find a doctor for that nose.” 

“Is it terrible?” 

He huffs, trying not to laugh. “No, but it needs to be fixed. Go. Shower.” 

I love you. It’s on the tip of your tongue, right there. I love you. It’s all you can think about, thundering in your ribcage. I love you. It consumes you, makes you freeze up, staring at him. I love you. 

Angel tugs your wrist delicately and breaks the spell. You follow her up the stairs. She’s careful with you, making you take one step at a time. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her so gentle, her eyes softened with worry and her touch on you delicate as butterfly wings. 

Upstairs, she leads you into a room that smells like vanilla and sandalwood. Soonyoung. This room belongs to Soonyoung. You spot his subtle touches, a gaming computer shoved in the corner and powered off. A closet with a metal door that is under lock and key. A single gun sitting on top of the nightstand. 

But what makes the room spin is the touches of you. A teakwood candle sitting on the dresser. Weighted blankets folded at the end of the bed. A bookshelf with all your favorite titles. A jar of saltwater taffy in multiple flavors. 

Angel hesitates by the bathroom door, watching you drink in the room. You turn to her, shaking your head, confused and mouth open. She nods. “I know. I didn’t know either.” 

“I could live and die a thousand times and never deserve him.” 

“I’m not the best judge of character, but I don’t think I believe that to be true.” 

Angel isn’t the best judge of character. But she also doesn’t say things she does not mean. She’s the last person in the world to offer words of comfort, and yet she’s standing in the bathroom staring at you like she can see through you, right down to the very core. 

Maybe she can. Seeing what is rotting people on the inside and sniffing out their weaknesses is what she does best. 

Instead of pointing out where you hurt, she manages to get you into the bathroom. It’s spacious but not grand like what you’re used to - it’s small. Safe. She starts the shower and backs away, helping you get out of your bloody clothing. 

Everything hurts so bad. Your ribs ache, the bruising on them blotchy and horrendous as Angel peels back your shirt. She thankfully doesn’t react - she’s seen worse and done worse. Suddenly, you realize why Soonyoung picked her to help you. She’s steady, her fingers sure as she holds your arm while you pull your pants down.

You don’t dare look in the mirror. From what you can see without it, it’s already bad enough. Yijun hadn’t dealt fatal damage, but you know you’re bruised and covered in dry, flaking blood. 

Angel leaves you in the shower, shutting the door to go sit on the sink, a guardian willing to give you space but ready to help when you need it. Shaking, you shuffle into the stream of hot water, hissing when it hits your skin. 

It’s both heaven and hell. The hot water feels so good on your aching muscles and throbbing pain, but it also hurts when the water taps against your nose, reminding you that it is indeed broken. You suck in sharp air as you slowly begin to work your fingers into your skin, turning the water pink as you wash off the blood. 

Blood that belongs to you. Blood that belongs to Yijun.

Yijun. 

You’re not sorry you killed him. It was satisfying and necessary. But… the weight of your grief comes crashing into you. You could have killed him years ago and ran. Could have gone crawling back to Soonyoung and asked for his help. Could have told him that the only reason you ever agreed to marry him in the first place was to protect him. 

None of it mattered. You bought him a paltry couple years worth of protection and for what? To shackle yourself to a man who thought little of you, who wanted to fuck you until you gave him another version of himself, who wanted to kill you at every moment because he knew you didn’t respect him and because he was afraid of you and the way you command respect from your family, but he never did.

All that time you’d made yourself smaller for him. Held back your bite. Hid your teeth. Mourned Soonyoung everyday, knowing that you’d never touch him again, that he would never kiss you again, that you’d never wake up in the morning when he got home from work and crawled into bed with you.

A potential lifetime of happiness, one of your own making, wasted on a promise that they broke anyway. 

For nothing. It had been for nothing, you’d hurt Soonyoung for nothing, shut him out, promised you would never leave him and threw him away, forced him to jump for you, forced him to leave you when he said he wouldn’t all for nothing nothing nothing nothing notHING NOTHINGNOTHINGNOTHINGNOTHING-

Angel’s arms are around you. You startle, looking up to see that she is in the shower fully clothed, holding you to her. You hadn’t realized you’d been crying - screaming - in the shower. She presses you closer to her, the only way she knows how to tell you that she’s got you. She’s there. She understands. 

You crumble, leaning heavily on her as you let it out, sobbing. Your throat is raw, your face throbbing each time you squeeze your eyes shut. Angel says nothing, content to hold you while her clothes soak up the water, weighing her down as you let out your grief in full, ugly waves. 

Eventually, the water starts to get cold and your tears start to dry up. You sniff and groan, the pain in your face so poignant that it can’t be ignored. Lifting your head from her shoulder, you glance at her boots, soaked and murky red around the edges.

“Can I tell you something?” Angel asks, voice low. You nod. She hesitates, putting the words together before she says, “He’s going to accept you back. He’s going to do it with no conditions, and ask nothing of you. You’re going to want to torture yourself and beg for his forgiveness and deny yourself of him because you think you should be punished, that there is not a god powerful enough to hurt you the way you deserve.”

You blink in surprise. Angel isn’t religious, despite the nickname. She also isn’t overly emotional or wordy. But you see the severity in which she tells you this, see the pain in her eyes. You remember that she has demons far older than yours, ones that have followed her since childhood. 

And she’s right. She reads you like a book, seeing the fucking pain radiating inside of you, the desire to be punished and hated and whipped- 

“Let him take you back.” Her words are firm. “Don’t make him punish you. Don’t believe for a second that Soonyoung wants to make you pay. He doesn’t. He doesn’t care what you did or why. Just… let him have you. You’ve endured enough.” 

You nod. “Alright. I’ll try.”

“Good. Um - can we get out of the shower though? It’s very cold in here.” 

You laugh, immediately followed by a groan. “Please don’t make me laugh. I am in so much pain.” 

“Yeah, let’s go get you some drugs, dude.” 

The three Syndicates of the city are officially at war. Of all the news that has poured in over the last few days, this is the least surprising. When you’d seen Seungcheol that first night after everything went to hell, he’d held you close and promised that he would kill every last Kim in the city.

He had also told you he was proud of you. Not just for surviving Yijun long enough for Soonyoung to come get you, but for being able to warn the family what was coming. Your single warning alone had saved them a great deal and wounded the Kim Syndicate more than you could understand. 

The days following your father’s death are strange. It doesn’t feel like he’s dead - at least, you haven’t truly processed it yet. There are things that demand your attention like being seen by Dr. Ymir for your fractured nose and bruised ribs, and the accounts and logistics of what being at war with the Kim and Yong family truly means. 

On the fifth day at the safe house, you go back home. Seungcheol makes you ride with him, unwilling to let you out of his sight these days. You’re the only two members of the Choi family left, and it’s up to the two of you to rally the troops and remind everyone what the mountain can do. 

Seungcheol replaces your father as the Tower of the Choi Syndicate. Typically there’s a small ceremony to pass the torch so to speak, but there’s no time for that. Seungcheol is buried in problems and trying to maneuver the family into a favorable position, but it’s hard - the Yongs and Kims have been preparing this for a while. 

You’re suddenly given a job again. Fresh in his position leading the family, Seungcheol needs those he trusts by his side, immediately appointing you as the Architect of the Syndicate. There’s no one he trusts more with the finances and the logistics of the businesses under the Choi banner and who have pledged to his family. 

With Yoon Minji’s death, Jeonghan’s takes his rightful side as the Wisdom and second in command to Seungcheol. It’s like you’d always known it would be as a kid, but it brings you no joy to see the two of them together in an office until the early hours of the morning, worn at the edges and sick with the grief they’re ignoring to push forward. 

With no surprise, Seungcheol immediately promotes Soonyoung to the lead military position, rising from Sword to Sentinel in a single night. It’s the same position his father held under your father, and Soonyoung takes it with steely resolve. 

It also means you don’t see him. You move back into your old room at home. At first, it doesn’t feel like your room at all because Soonyoung isn't in it. He had moved into your room when you first started dating, spending two years in that bed with you. Now, he’s taken up residence in his room down the hall, so close and yet the distance feels larger than ever. 

Of all the problems mounting for you to solve, Soonyoung is the most important. You know he shouldn’t be. There are a thousand other things that you need to figure out, like how to assure that the businesses you own in and near the Kim and Yong family territories won’t go under or be attacked, or how to assure that payment to the family won’t increase now that there’s a fight. 

Your days are filled with countless meetings, assuring loyal patrons that the Choi Syndicate will not fall and will not fail them, and that the Choi’s protect their own. You can see the fear in people’s eyes - the city hasn’t had the big three at war in a long time. Already the city officials are cracking down on Syndicate activity to try and establish order. 

It’s farcical at best. 

Squeezing your temples between your fingers, you lean back from the desk in your newly appointed office - which is really just your father’s. It feels weird to be in here. It still smells like leather and sweet tobacco, a little bit of smoke hanging in the air. 

The last time you’d been in this office, you’d fallen to your knees and begged him not to make you marry Kim Yijun. Now you sit at the desk, hanging up the phone as another call ends - not as bad as the first, but not as good as you’d hoped. 

Quickly, you scribble down a summary of the call to give to Seungcheol. You know he’ll read every word you write, determined to hear each concern of those under Choi patronage, whether they’re valid or not. 

At the sound of the door opening, you glance up. Soonyoung sticks his head in, surprising you. You straighten in your seat, heart racing when you take him in. His silver hair has grown longer, tapered a bit at the neck. He’s dressed in all black but he’s clean, indicating that he showered not that long ago. You thought he would be out all day like usual, looking at your watch to see he’s back far earlier than normal.

“Is everything alright?” You start to get up and he rushes to you, hands lifting to help you. “I’m alright. I am well on the mend.”

He chews his lip, nodding before dropping his hands hesitantly. “Everything’s fine I just.” He hesitates. “Do you want to eat lunch?” 

“Oh. Sure.”

Soonyoung’s smile is tentative. Shy. You give him one back, following him out of the office while sending a quick note to Jihoon that you’ll meet with him later. He sends a thumbs down back, less than pleased that you’ve not made time to talk to him about your potential murder charges for Yijun. 

“Are you busy? We don’t have to-”

“It’s just Jihoon.” 

“Ah. He’s persistent, are you sure-”

“I want to have lunch with you, Soonyoung.” 

He blushes and you grin. “Alright,” he murmurs. “When you say jump and all that.” 

That makes you pause. “You don’t have to do anything I tell you.” 

“What?” He stops walking, confused. 

“You don’t have to ask how high if I tell you to jump... I’m wrong a lot of the time. I don’t… want to be that.” 

I don’t want to repeat my mistakes. You don’t say it, but you think Soonyoung senses it when he says, “I’ve always wanted to jump for you. That hasn’t changed.” 

Let him take you back. Don’t make him punish you. 

Angel’s words come back to you so you swallow down your guilt and you nod, giving him a tentative smile that he returns. This time, he holds out his hand to take you in the kitchen. You take it, the feeling of his fingers wrapping around yours both foreign and familiar. 

The way he holds your hand in his makes you tremble. It’s something so simple and benign and yet you’re screaming on the inside, looking at where your fingers twine together like it’s everything, like it’s the only thing. 

Lunch consists of very badly burned grilled cheese. You don’t care because Soonyoung makes it, insistent that he wants to and that he can. He’s good at a lot of things, particularly on the spectrum of murder and weapons, but he is terrible at putting bread, cheese and butter in a pan. 

You eat it anyway, burnt bread and all. He sits next to you, his stool pulled so close that your thighs touch. You want to reach out and brush your fingers across his face, down his neck, through his hair. You want to touch until you’re grabbing, grab until you’re pulling. 

Instead, you let him lead this dance, too afraid to initiate. 

Let him take you back. Don’t make him punish you. 

You don’t, but you can’t let go of the fear of rejection. Can’t bring yourself to toe the line beyond what he’s giving you, which is more than you ever dreamed of. So you accept when he offers to take your plate, fingers brushing over the top of your hand either by design or by accident you don’t know. His touch makes you shiver and he notices, pausing. 

Slowly, you look up at Soonyoung. His eyes are dark and misty as ever, churning with emotion that you’re a little too afraid to read. Instead of taking the plates to the sink, he sets them down and reaches for you, cradling your face in his hands. 

A sob works its way up your throat but you force it down. You will not cry over this. You will not make him comfort you. 

“Are you afraid to touch me?” His question is gentle. You nod, eyes fluttering shut as his thumb brushes back and forth across your cheekbone. “Why?” 

“I… want to so badly. I just want it to be your choice.” 

“I want you to.” You open your eyes. His earnestness is right on the surface of him, rippling for you to see. “I’m dying for it. Please.” 

Soonyoung’s please sounds like that morning he’d begged you all that time ago. It freezes you in place, heart beating like a prey animal in fight or flight. He steps closer, his breath on your forehead when he whispers, “Please.” 

Slowly, you bring your hands up to his wrists. Licking your lips, you place your hands on him. His eyes close. His skin is warm to the touch and you feel him tremble as you brush your hands upward, tracing his forearms, his corded biceps. You brush your fingertips over the sleeves of his shirt and toward his neck until you’re cupping his throat, your thumbs resting against his hammering pulse. 

You close your eyes, remaining still. Both of you remain that way, his hands on your face, yours on his neck. You’re shaking under his touch, feel his breath against your forehead. His fingers add a little pressure to your face, careful not to hurt you where your bruise is finally fading on your nose as he turns you to look up at him. 

Soonyoung licks his lips, eyes open. “There is not a second I didn’t love you.”

And there it is. The admission that he never hated you. You bet he tried - you know he tried. You know the inside of Soonyoung’s soul better than you know your own, no part of him hidden to you even with time. 

“I don’t care why you did it,” he continues. “Not anymore. Not after everything. I don’t care about any of it. I just… want you.”

“Soonyoung-”

“I know you’re sorry. I know you hate yourself. I know there is guilt eating away at you. Get over it, because none of it changes how I feel. I love you. You’re mine. I don’t want to leave you again. You cannot make me.” 

“I know. I won’t make you.” 

“Good.” Soonyoung presses his forehead to yours gently. He’s careful not to knock noses with you too hard, aware of the pain it’ll cause. “I cannot do any of this without you.” 

“I know.”

Soonyoung’s mouth is tentative when it presses against yours. Your grip on him tightens, leaning forward into the kiss. It is everything - the only thing. You feel something wet on your face, thinking that you’ve got another nosebleed, but when you pull away, you realize it’s because Soonyoung is crying.

Crying for the first time since his parents died. 

You stand up from the stool, gripping the back of his neck to pull him toward you. He melts under your touch, letting you meld your mouths together. He tastes like his burnt sandwich and like him, his mouth warm and wet against yours. Vanilla and sandalwood invade your senses, overwhelming as you grip him for dear life, never wanting to let him go.

He doesn’t want to let you go either. His grip on your hips is crushing, fingers digging into flesh and bone as though he can force you to become one. The thought makes you dizzy. You slide your fingers in his silk-soft hair, wrapping the strands around them to pull lightly, pull him closer, pull him to you, pull him back. 

Soonyoung whines against your mouth and you break the kiss, panting. “Take me upstairs,” you whisper between peppering kissing against his mouth, his bottom lip, the corner of his lips. “Please take me upstairs.” 

He does. Soonyoung grabs you by the hands, tugging you toward the stairs that lead to your room - the room you used to share. The room that still smells like him, even if faintly. He takes you to your bed, where you’ve spent hundreds of nights with him, and lays you down gently like he has a million times before. 

Soonyoung touches you like you’re holy. His hands skim over you in worship, they scratch you in penance, they hold you in reverence. He slots himself between your knees, stealing a kiss from you like it’ll breathe new life into him, bare him anew, purge him of sin. 

You love him. You love him you love him you love him you love him you love him -

A moan leaves his mouth when your nails drag down his back. He is quaking under your touch, his mouth hungry but careful against yours, wanting to swallow you whole but knowing you’re hurt. You know he won’t break you but you wish he would.

There’s time for that later. Now isn’t the time for rough and biting. Now, Soonyoung peels the shirt from your skin, immediately covering your arms, chest, collarbones, shoulders in kisses. You vibrate under his touch, lashes fluttering as he sucks at the sensitive skin of your neck, tongue pressed flat to your pulse as he tastes you. 

You tug at his shirt and he complies, leaning upward to toss it. He’s back on you in a second, pressing you close, hip to hip as he tangles his tongue with yours, drinking you in. His touch ignites a fire and you’re burning, a complete inferno as you drag your fingers up the hard contour of his stomach to the firmness of his chest and around to his shoulders. 

“I love you,” he mutters against your mouth, rolling his hips into you. You let out a breathy sound and he groans. “Fuck I love you. I missed you. I love you.” 

“Please,” you beg. He understands, burying his face in your neck and biting down lightly. You feel like you’re going to burn up under him, an out of control blaze while his fingers work the buttons on your pants. “Never let me go.”

“Never.” 

Jeans scrape down your legs, his hands following. He drags his blunt nails down your thighs. Your hips twitch upward, loving the scratch, loving the way he touches you, loving him. He returns his mouth to yours, unable to get enough of your kissing. 

Soonyoung’s hand slips between your thighs, the pads of his fingers pressing against your clit through your underwear. You keen for him, pulling at the long strands of hair at the back of his neck. He moans in tandem, his pleasure driven by yours, loving the way you sound as you start to come apart under the gentle circle of his fingers. 

He only teases you a little, knowing the friction with the fabric between his fingers and your aching cunt isn’t enough. He finally decides that you’ve had enough, hooking a finger to pull them aside, the cool air hitting your sticky folds. 

Before you can complain, Soonyoung’s touch is there. He drags his fingers slow-soft from top to bottom, circling your clit slowly. He’s not in a hurry, dragging it out as he sucks your tongue into his mouth, sliding his fingers back down to press against your entrance but not breach it. 

You whine and he grins, pulling your bottom lip with his teeth until he lets go with a pop. “I love those sounds you make.” 

“Feels good,” you admit, head falling to the side as you close your eyes, enjoying the pressure he puts on your clit, wiggling his fingers back and forth. Your thighs close around his hand but he’s unbothered, drawing more arousal from you as he plays. “Fuck, your fingers.” 

His laugh is throaty and he shakes his head, attaching his mouth to your jaw where he sucks at the skin. He makes himself comfortable with nibbling toward your neck, both of his hands reaching for the sides of your underwear to pull them down. You let him, folding your knees toward your for a moment to help. 

Soonyoung’s hand returns to the wetness between your legs except this time, he’s not teasing. He presses a finger in deep and you whine, hips wiggling. You squeeze down on his finger, pussy spasming as he begins to pump leisurely, like he has all the time in the world.

And he does, doesn’t he? The work is far from done and the world is falling apart, but it doesn’t matter because he’s here with you. Because Soonyoung is yours again - always has been - and because he’s drawing your mouth toward his to kiss you messily, swallowing down your moans as he presses in another finger. 

Now you crumble beneath him. You can’t stop your hips from coming off the bed. You loop your arms around his neck, keeping him close, breathing the same air. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes impossible dark and half-lidded as he hooks his fingers, dragging them against that sensitive spot. 

You cry out his name and he grins. Now he knows where it is, pressing repeatedly as he fucks you on his fingers, driving you directly toward an orgasm. Your breathing becomes labored, your legs squeezing his hips, your fingers digging into his shoulders. It is so good that you think you might die, letting him yank you toward release. 

Soonyoung kisses you again and you come crashing down, cumming around his fingers, body squeezing, ignoring the ache in your ribs and the millions of other places that you’re sore. He doesn’t slow down, scissoring his fingers to pry you open, to stretch you more.

“Soonyoung,” you gasp, voice wrecked. “Soonyoung Soonyoung Soonyoung.” 

“Just like that,” he agrees. You can tell he loves the way you say his name, knows that on your tongue it means something different. “Come on, one more.” 

You’ll give him anything he wants. Never again will you deny him. You let him work you up again, feeling the way your breath gets stuck in your lungs and you shiver, another wave washing through you as you shudder around his fingers. 

When you start to pant, he pulls his fingers out. You feel the wet schlick as he does, immediately hating the way you feel empty, hating the way he leans away from you. Whining, you reach out toward him, needy. He hushes you with a brief kiss, only standing to rid himself of his jeans and briefs. 

Using the fingers covered in your arousal, Soonyoung pumps his cock, smearing a mixture of your slick and his precum down his shaft as he kneels on the bed again, taking his place between your thighs again. You watch with hooded eyes as he rubs the head of his cock through your messy folds, a moan dripping from your lips. 

Soonyoung is beautiful, skin flushed and a sheen of sweat on his arms. His stomach flexes and clenches as he presses the tip of his cock into your entrance, both of you taking a shaky breath together. He slowly slides home, the stretch of him driving you wild, pussy fluttering around him until he’s slotted to the hilt. 

He hangs his head, panting as he plants his hands on either side of your head. He takes a moment to collect himself, shaking. You turn your head to the side, kissing his wrist, peppering any skin you can reach with your love while your hands drift up his back, feeling the muscles flex. 

When he begins to move, you nearly die. It feels so good, your breath lodged in your throat. He lowers his face to yours, kissing you as gently as he fucks you. His thrusts are deep and timed, not hard or fast but slow and measured, pressing all the way in as he uses his weight to his advantage. 

Your fingers turn to talons on his back, nails biting his shoulder blades. He’s precise, the tip of his cock finding the right angle to make you nearly sob in a matter of a few thrusts. It’s familiar. Home. 

Soonyoung lowers himself to his forearms, pressing your chests together. The friction of his skin against your pert nipples makes you squeeze around him, his name a whisper on swollen, kiss-bitten lips. He presses his forehead to yours, breathing shakily as he continues to fuck you.

You feel him everywhere, feel everything that he wants to say. Soonyoung has never needed words to communicate to you and he doesn’t now, the way he shakes as he lets out a wispy moan enough, the way he slides one of his arms under your back to cradle you to his chest, closer closer closer.

He wants to be closer and so do you, arms around his neck, drawing him to you. You never want to let him go, never will let him go. You’ve learned your lesson and this, right here with him is the only thing that matters. 

“Shh,” he hushes. You realize you’re crying, tasting salt on your lips when he brushes his mouth against yours. “I know.” 

“I love you.”

“I know.” 

Soonyoung’s pace picks up only a little bit. It’s enough, sending you careening toward your third orgasm. He can feel it - needs it. He chases after your high, catching your mouth to brush his tongue against yours, rolling his hips until you’re clenching around him, whining into his mouth, lips buzzing against his.

He hums against you, waiting until your pussy lets go of its vice grip to speed up a little bit, the wet smack of his hips against yours loud and lewd, driving him forward until he comes, your name on his lips, his face buried in your neck. His thrusts slow, both of you trembling like leaves until he finally stops, remaining seated inside of you. 

“I will love you for a thousand lifetimes,” he mutters against your mouth, with no intention of moving. “You know that, right Baby?” 

You nod, fingers digging into his shoulder blades. “Leave me at your own peril, Kwon Soonyoung,” you rasp, quoting yourself that first night he finally caved, where he finally told you that he couldn’t exist without you. “I will never go anywhere ever again.” 

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SYNDICATE ROLES

Tower - title for a Syndicate boss Wisdom - title for the second-in-command to a Sydnicate boss Architect - title for the main business affairs and political tactician 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

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Shhh....

Summary: Being a single parent comes with all kinds of challenges. Challenges that are so much easier to deal with when the father of your daughter's best friend is there to take of your more personal needs. And if that meant sneaking off with you into a laundry room at a garden party? Well who would he be to complain?

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.2k

Rating: E

Warnings: smut (semi public sex, unprotected sex, oral f receiving, cumplay) friends with benefits to lovers, a lot of flirting, fluff?

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Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

He didn’t know exactly why he agreed to go to this garden party. It was one of the few Saturdays he had off and he wanted it to spend with Sarah. She’s been in middle school since the summer and with all the changes that brought they only had little time to hang out in the last few weeks. 

So when Sarah brought the invitation for this garden party that the parents of one of her new classmates were throwing, he wanted to decline. But Sarah told him she really wanted to go, and that if he had something else to do that day, he could just drop her off and pick her up after?

But of course Joel Miller went with her. 

And it wasn’t that bad. The drinks were cold, the food was good and meeting all the new parents at the beginning of the year was a good thing too. Even if he already had forgotten most of their names. There were a few faces he recognised from Sarah’s elementary school, so he kept talking to them, all while having an eye out on Sarah who was playing soccer with some kids at the other side of the backyard. 

„Fancy seeing you here,“ he heard your voice behind him, and his eyes closed before he took a deep breath and turned around, fighting unsuccessfully against the smile that sneaked to his lips as he looked down at you. 

„Could say the same,“ he winked and your smile widened. 

This party just got interesting. 

You were running late.

The plan was to leave around twenty minutes ago but Charlotte, your daughter, just couldn’t decide on what to wear. She just turned twelve and if this last half year was a preview on how puberty would be with her, than you were in for a wild ride. 

Usually you used the weekends to charge your mental batteries by having as little contact to the outside world as possible after working at a bakery and having to be social all week. 

But Charlotte had brought the invitation for the garden party a couple weeks ago, begging you to go because Sarah would be there too. 

And where Sarah was, her father wasn’t far behind which was why you said yes in the end and spend way too much time on deciding what to wear before you decided on a light summer dress. 

It had been a while since you seen him, and you couldn’t even remember the last time the two of you had found the time to have sex.

Because ever since Charlotte and Sarah became best friends some time back in pre school, you and Joel started sleeping together occasionally. The first time happened after a night out at the bar where you ran into him, both of your kids on a sleepover. It had been positively mind-blowing and you were more than eager to agree to keep this going when you both needed a release. 

His wife had left him and Sarah before the girl turned one and your husband had used your pregnancy to fuck his secretary because apparently carrying his child made you unattractive to him.

And with both you and Joel being very devoted single parents, both of your love lives was pretty much non existent. You wouldn't say it was frequent now, but every month or two you would find some hours where you’d meet up at either of your houses, not leaving before both of you were more than satisfied. 

And you didn’t know if it was the secrecy of the whole thing, but my god the way Joel Miller knew how to play your body to the point of a crying orgasm was addictive.

But now you hadn’t really seen him in almost three months. 

With the school change and summer break things were busy not only for you, but for him too. You texted occasionally, trying to figure out a time to meet up, but business was picking up for Miller construction and Joel used the little time he had off to spend with Sarah. 

Something you could understand. 

So you were excited to see him as you parked your car right behind his on the street after Charlotte finally had chosen a dress to wear. You knew all that time deciding on her outfit would be for nothing once they played soccer, but hey. 

Charlotte was off to see Sarah as soon as you stepped into the garden, many people already mingling. The smell of fresh BBQ lingered in the air and before you even had taken two steps inside you already had an iced tea in hand, the host, one of the moms of a new classmate of Charlotte that you had met before, welcoming you. 

You were glad that Charlotte and Sarah where in the same class, both of them loving each other like sisters. With Joel working so much you had Sarah over more often lately, seeing Joel only when he picked her up. 

She was very well behaved and deep down you got the impression she loved hanging around with just girls for a change. Of course Joel was the best father, but there are some things that teenage girls don’t want to speak to their dads about. 

Such as how to use the eyeliner she secretly bought correctly or the awkward question about what to use, pads or tampons or period underwear?

It was nice that she trusted you with questions like that. 

You knew from Joel that she had struggled to not have a mom like other kids and he told you it was nice that she now had you to ask all those questions. 

Not that you were her mom, or wanted to be. 

Well…. Okay maybe sometimes deep into the night when you looked at the empty space in bed next to you, you might imagine how it would be if Joel would be there, every day. How could you not?

He was the hot single dad every mom in class always wanted and you were the one who had him. Occasionally. But still.

You let your eyes gaze through the backyard before you saw the broad shoulders of the man you had hoped would be here.

You could feel the butterflies in your belly as you walked over to him and fuck that smile he gave you when he turned around…

„Work still keeping you busy?“ You asked a little while later, both of you with a plate of food in front of you, sitting at one of the tables outside. 

„Yeah. Can’t remember when I got more than five hours of sleep at night the last time,“ he groaned and you reached one hand over to rest on his knee before you could stop yourself. 

„You got to take care of yourself, honey. Let that brother of yours pick up some slack too,“ you winked and he gave you a bashful smile before one of his hands came to rest on top of yours. 

„He does. As a matter of fact he’s taking over the next project so I have some more free time to spend with Sarah,“ he said and you hummed. 

„And if I’m being completely honest there’s this girl I haven’t spend any time with in the last months and I really really miss her and her little pussy,“ he had leaned in, whispering the last words against your ear and you shivered. 

„Just her pussy?“ You mumbled back as you looked up at him and he smirked. 

„Nah, she’s the whole fucking deal. Should probably get off my own ass and finally as her out on a date instead of just fucking he brains out whenever she lets me,“ he said and you sucked your bottom lip in as you tried to hide your smile.

You looked away from him for a moment, gathering your thoughts, making up your mind. 

You needed him, and you needed him now. 

„Think you can show me where the bathroom is? I think I need a little refresh,“ you asked, hoping he would get the hint. And by the shit eating grin that came to his face, he did. 

„Of course. Follow me.“

„This… This is not the bathroom,“ you mumbled against his lips, his body pressing you against the door of what looked like a laundry room. 

„Less interruptions here,“ he hummed, hand slipping under your dress, finger hooking into your panties, pulling them down. You smiled, hands in his hair as you helped him get your panties off. 

„Been too damn long,“ he ran his hand up your leg, wrapping it behind his back, his other hand on your back puling you closer before he kissed you again, his tongue playing with yours as you reached down, unzipping his pants. 

„Missed me so much you gonna fuck me in some people’s laundry room? Want us to get caught?“ You grinned, hand pulling out his cock, surprised to find out he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Wrapping your palm around his cock you loved the deep groan he released against your lips. 

„Not gonna get caught if you keep quiet baby,“ he hooked your leg over his arm, hand on the door behind you as he stepped closer, opening you up for him. 

„Oh yeah, because I am the one who can’t keep quiet,“ you teased and he huffed a laugh, replacing your hand around his cock with his as he pumped himself and lined himself up. 

You wrapped one arm around his shoulders, standing only one one leg, trusting him to keep you there. 

Slowly he finally sank into you, his thick cock stretching you perfectly. 

„Fuckin’ perfect,“ he grunted, lips pressing against yours in a deep kiss when his cock filled you completely, both of you moaning quietly. 

„This ain’t gonna take long, sweetheart. Been to fuckin’ long,“ he grunted and you gasped when he moved, bottoming out completely before thrusting back inside. 

„Don’t care, just fuck me,“ you whimpered and he nodded against your lips, fucking up into you, skin slapping against skin every time he filled you. 

You sucked your bottom lip in, trying to keep quiet as he hammered into you, his lips now attached to your shoulder as he groaned into your skin. 

„Shit,“ he grunted just a couple of thrusts later and you felt him twitch as he came, spilling inside of you. Letting your head fall against the door you gasped for ear, having not cum but fuck it still felt good to just have him inside of you.

You were about to say something when he got on his knees, cock pulling out of you, your leg now hooked over his shoulders as his tongue replaced his cock, Joel moaning as he tasted you. 

„Oh fuck,“ you whimpered, hands now in his hair as he looked up at you. He grinned wickedly as he licked into you, licked his cum out of you. 

„We taste good together,“ he mumbled against your cunt, and you pulled at his hair with a quiet whine. 

„Shhh Baby. Don’t want anyone to hear what a little slut your are for me huh?“ He teased and you pulled his hair harder, making him moan as he continued to lick you. 

He sucked on your clit, tongue playing with it all while pushing you closer and closer to the edge. 

„Joel,“ you moaned softly, your head falling back against the door as you finally came, gasping for air as your body shook in Joel’s hold. You melted against the door once you rode it out, limbs feeling like jello. He kissed your pussy one last time, before he set your leg down, keeping his arms around you as he got off of his knees. You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him hard once he stood upright. 

„We do taste good together,“ you whispered and he chuckled. 

It was two hours later, nobody at the party had noticed the very explicit things you did in that laundry room, that Joel carried a very tired Charlotte towards your car, Sarah already sleeping in the backseat of his car. 

You opened the backseat door of your car for him and he carefully sat Charlotte down, putting the belt on for her. 

You were leaning against the back of your car as he closed the door and he walked towards you. 

„What are you doing next Friday?“ He asked, fingers tilting your chin up.

„Nothing. Charlotte is with her Dad,“ you said with a small smile. 

„And Sarah is at her Grandma’s for a sleepover,“ he hummed with a smirk. 

„Wanna go on a date with me?“ He asked and you grinned, getting on your tiptoes to kiss him softly. 

„I thought you’d never ask.“

[miabebe]

Two Many Beds (Choi Seungcheol) Teaser

Reverse Trope Series Installment 1.5

Choi Seungcheol was your parent's best friend's son, the man you lived with for two odd years and the face you woke up to everyday but that didn't mean the two of you didn't have issues to navigate. After all, everything changed when one argument turned into two beds and seven days apart. Your only worry was that in all this, the distance it took over twenty years to cover, might just find its way between the two of you again....

Pairing - Choi Seungcheol x afab! Reader

Word Count- 3.4k for teaser (Estimated full fic WC - 13k)

Genre - Ah our sweet little idiots have gotten some issues so angst, romance, hurt/comfort, obviously banter cause it's these two. Oh and smut.

Warnings -smut, making out, cheol lifts reader, fingering (that's all for teaser, lots more coming in the full fic hehe)

A/n - Hello my loves, surprise surprise! This is super duper overdue - The love Too Many Beds gets to date still makes me feel so touched so I wanted to have a little something out for everyone who, like me, is so attached to our little idiots in love! If you want to be tagged in the full fic, please leave a comment below and if you want to be tagged in all fics of the series, then drop a comment on the taglist!

TUESDAY

You glanced at Seungcheol silently getting ready in front of the mirror. The man still doesn't know how to tie his tie. 

On any other day, he would've asked you to do it, looking down at you fondly while you worked the knot but today he just threw it on the bed with a frustrated sound and walked off. Sighing, you picked it up, folding it neatly, putting it on the rack.

Seungcheol also really loved to eat breakfast with you. Yeah it was his favourite meal of the day but what he really liked was watching you in the kitchen, humming and swaying around to the music as you cooked. You, of course, loved having his eyes on you first thing in the morning - more often than not, it was you who ended up on the table for him to have his fill. 

Today though, he barely glanced at the kitchen before he grabbed his bag, slipped on his shoes and closed the door behind him with a resounding slam. No kiss today. In the two years that you’ve lived together, he’s never not kissed you. 

Huffing annoyed, you threw your half eaten pancakes in the bin and followed his suit - grabbed your bag, wore your heels and slammed the door shut behind you. 

This was stupid. 

This whole fight was stupid. 

You didn't mean for it to escalate this far. What had been a casual statement that stemmed purely out of frustration had turned into a full blown Cold War. 

You picked up the photo of the two of you in your office, the one that you had framed, the one from your wedding. From your first wedding actually, when the two of you got sick of your parents fussing over the arrangements and simply flew to Greece overnight, getting married there, all by yourselves. You really love this picture - Seungcheol wearing a perfectly fitted white shirt, his arms wrapped around you from behind while you matched him, donning a white beach gown, a pretty crown of flowers on your head as you half turned to look at him, the two of you laughing. 

Being married to Seungcheol was.....like a dream. To be honest, you hadn't ever dreamt this was possible - that your parents best friend's son and childhood arch rival would be the one whose arms you'd wake up in everyday.

Again, except today. 

Today you woke up on the bed alone while he spent the night on the couch. Given how much Seungcheol liked to cling onto you in his sleep, you were habituated to waking up all suffocated, pulling away from his grip while he’d draw you back, snuggling in your arms, asking you for five minutes more. Sometimes he let you go in five, sometimes it became twenty, with two orgasms added. Either way, with him you always woke up hot, sweaty and mildly annoyed but you missed his warmth today.

You missed him terribly.  

But not anymore.

This had to end. 

Seungcheol didn’t expect to see you at home so early. 

Ever since your event management venture had started, you had been busy with the logistics of it all - hiring people, setting up the office, and dealing with your first ever event, your dear cousin’s wedding. That meant you often reached home around midnight, way after Seungcheol finished his dinner, when he would be slipping into bed. To see you in the kitchen, whipping up a meal should have been a pleasant surprise yet Seungcheol showed no change of expression - he simply threw his bag on the couch, changed into his gym clothes and left the house. 

Sighing, you grabbed his bag and slid it on the shelf in his office room. It had been years yet his habit of leaving things around hadn’t changed one bit. Neither did he - he was just as caring, just as in love with you and just as much your best friend as he had been since day one. It was you who was the idiot. 

Last night, even though you had come home earlier than usual, for some reason you were more exhausted than you had ever been. Seungcheol of course, like any doting husband, was happy to see you, pulling you onto his lap the moment you dropped on the couch, finding your lips with a long, much needed kiss. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to be intimate with him, but there was something weighing on your mind when you walked into the house, something you had been meaning to ask him. But before you could get a word out, gripping your thighs he lifted you in his arms, walking you towards the room. 

“Cheol, I wanted to ask you something.” 

“What?” Setting you on the bed, he hovered over you, pulling his shirt over his head. You were feeling unnaturally hot too, so you quickly unbuttoned your shirt and like he had been deprived for months, Seungcheol ravenously descended on your breasts, littering the curve of it with hurried kisses and bites. It hadn’t even been that long since the two of you last had sex… okay, it had been a week which was considerably long given how often you two got at it but you had been really busy launching your business, just like you were busy thinking about it now.  

“Cheol, listen to me.” 

“I’m listening.” He said but his hands worked on your pants, pulling them down as his mouth found your neck. 

“No you’re not.”

“Okay, fine, I’m not.” He sighed, slipping his fingers below your underwear, finding you wet between your legs. “But I’m also not going anywhere, we can talk after-” 

“But this is important-”

“So is this.” He muttered, sliding his fingers in slowly, pulling out a soft moan from you. “Fuck, I missed you baby.” 

Screw this man. Nothing made you feel as good as he did.

“I missed you too…” Holding his face in your hands, you kissed him softly, clenching around his digits. “F-faster Cheol.” 

Groaning he adjusted over you, putting himself in an angle that allowed him to slip another finger in, pumping them faster, curling them when needed.

“Oh god yes…” Forehead pressed against his, you felt your eyes shut as the knot deliciously tightened in your guts. Watching you ready to fall apart, Seungcheol found your clit with his thumb, the sensation of him rubbing circles making your walls flutter around his fingers, soaking them. 

“That’s it baby.” He whispered, encouraging you to ride it out, allowing you to grind your hips against his hand. “Come for me.”

And within minutes, you did, your orgasm washing you in waves as you wrapped your arms around your husband, nails digging into his back as the most wonderful sigh of relief left your being. 

Seungcheol chuckled as you held on to him, your breath fast and shallow. “Are you okay? You just seem so wound up these days, I thought this might help.” 

You grimaced as you let him go, allowing him to roll off you. “Yeah, work’s really been a bitch off late, which is why I-” 

“Shhh.” Seungcheol pulled you into his arms again, dropping a soft kiss on your head. “Just leave work behind for a bit Y/n. You’re home now, take a breather and relax.” 

“I’m not too tired or anything.” You pulled away from him, sitting up. “And I know I shouldn’t bring work home but the business is just launching and I don’t want to mess things up.”

“Hey,” Seungcheol followed your suit, sitting on his knees. “You won’t. You’re one of the most capable people I know, you got this.” 

You sighed. 

He was always so encouraging, he always believed in you so much. But maybe if he just listened he’d know the truth. He’d know you weren’t that capable after all. That things were messing up. That you really needed help. 

“How about you just-ow!” You shrieked as you shifted, trying to put some space between the two of you. 

Your hand had found that bumpy crack between both beds, slipping right in between it, the edges of the mattress grazing your palm.

Yes both beds - Unfortunately, you and Seungcheol had to bring the beds from your childhood in your parents' house because thanks to um certain activities, the comfortable king size bed in your master bedroom had effectively…. broken. Since then, the two of you had put together the two single beds you had grown up in, promising to go mattress shopping when you were free. It had been a month now but somehow, the time for it never came. 

“We really need a new bed.” You mumbled, rubbing your hand, moving away to your side. “It's been days since we slept properly.” 

Seungcheol hummed, half crawling towards you. “I told you, we didn’t need two, you and I can manage on one-”

“Cheol…” You let out a breath, knowing what he was approaching you for again. “You said we’d talk after-” 

“Yes after.” He smirked, pushing you back gently, hovering over you again. “But I’m not done with you.” 

Oh he was only just getting started. You could feel his erection pressing against your groin and considering it had been a while since the two of you were intimate, you knew it wouldn’t end anytime soon. Seungcheol had the tendency to go on for hours sometimes. 

Softly pushing him off, you turned away. “What if we spoke first and then continued-”

“You know I don’t like leaving things halfway-” 

“Yeah well you shouldn’t have started it in the first place-”

“You say that after you’ve had your turn.” He pulled you back, his chest pressing against your back, his mouth by your ear. “It’s too late to back out now baby.”  

“No it's not too late,” You wiggled in his grip. “We could just stop-”

“Nope,” Seungcheol smirked against your skin, his hand going between your legs again. “It's my turn now-”

“Cheol, I said stop!” 

You didn’t mean to push him with such force or for your elbow to land right in his stomach - all you wanted was to simply get away for a minute. Seungcheol looked at you wide eyed and surprised as you slid off the bed, buttoning your shirt again. 

“For God’s sake Cheol, I’ve been trying to talk to you for so long but all you want to do is have sex!?” 

Sitting up, Seungcheol looked confused, concerned and hurt all at once. “Y/n I… I thought-”

“How about you stop thinking and listen to me!” You exploded, glaring at him accusatorily. “I really wanted to talk to you Cheol, I wanted to share something but you just….” 

Pinching the bridge of your nose you turned away from him.

“Y/n I’m sorry…” You didn’t notice the way he winced, holding his abdomen as he slid off the bed, approaching you hesitatingly. “You seemed so stressed, I thought I was helping-” 

“The way for you to help was to listen to me!” You threw your hands in the air. “Do you have any idea how much pressure I am under? I’m trying to do something for us, for our future, but all you want to do is just…. it’s been barely a week Cheol, why is sex always the only thing on your mind?” 

“You…” Seungcheol looked at you like he couldn’t believe what you were saying. “You think this was about me? That sex is all I care about?” 

The moment those words left him, you knew you were wrong. Of course not, Seungcheol loved you, more than anything and you knew that. He was just trying to help - how was he to know that you weren’t just trying to vent like always, that you wanted to ask him if he could quit his job and join you in the business? How was he to know the severity of things? 

“I…” You turned around to him, finding him clutching his stomach, wincing in pain. “Oh my god Cheol, I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t.” He held his hand out as you approached. “Please don’t.” 

And with that, he walked out of the room, leaving you alone, regretting your words. 

That night, you tried to approach him again but Seungcheol was uncharacteristically subjecting you to silent treatment. You knew that wasn’t his way of working through things - Seungcheol was a mature man. He talked things through, he knew how to fix issues. The fact that he wasn’t having any conversation with you clearly meant that your words had hurt him beyond belief. Of course you were sorry about it, and you tried telling him that, many times, but he didn’t seem to listen. Instead, for the first time in two years of marriage, Seungcheol slept on the couch, away from you. 

You had hoped he would at least be more receptive to you in the morning but his cold behaviour continued and his stubborness irked you. Fine, if he was going to be such a child about this, so were you. But as the day progressed you realised how stupid it all was. You didn’t want to play tit for tat with your husband, you just wanted things to be normal with him again. That’s why leaving all your work behind, you wrapped up the last meeting of the day as quickly as you could and arrived home way before the sun set, making his favourite meal as an apology. 

But it seemed like he still didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t smile when you smiled at him. He didn’t smirk at you when your eyes ran down his water streaked, towel clad body as he stepped out of the shower. He didn’t even eat dinner - just donned his pajamas and got ready to sleep on the couch. Again. 

“Cheol,” You walked up to him as he threw his comforter on the couch. “I understand you’re mad but that’s no reason to avoid eating.” 

“I already ate.” His answer was curt. Hurtful. He would never forgo the chance to eat a meal made by you. 

“Cheol I’m so sorry about yesterday, you know I didn’t mean what I said, it was just in the heat of the moment.” 

Silence. That’s all he gave to you in return. Silence. 

You watched as he settled on the couch, turning on the tv, ignoring your presence. You could’ve just walked off. You could’ve just let your ego take over - after all you had been constantly apologizing to him since last night while he was behaving like a five year old. But at least one of you had to behave like an adult so you did, sitting on the floor before him, taking his hands into yours. 

“Cheol listen to me-”

“Y/n please, don’t do this, get up.” 

You ignored him. “Cheol I’m really sorry, tell me what I should do to fix this-” 

“First get up please, just…” He pulled you onto your feet, making you sit on the couch next to him. “You don’t have to apologise like that.” 

“Then what do I have to do to make things right again? To make us okay again?” 

“It’s….” Seungcheol sighed looking away. “It’s not you. I…. I was just thinking about things. I didn’t mean to seem cold.” 

“You ignored me all day.” You turned his head to you, glancing at him sadly. “You didn’t even kiss me goodbye…” 

“I didn’t know if I should.” He whispered, looking away. “I didn’t know what you’d think of me if I got close to you again.” 

“Cheol…” You could feel tears pricking your eyes. You had really hurt him. 

Throwing your leg around his waist, you climbed into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, hugging him tight. Too tight. 

But Seungcheol didn’t hold you back. 

“I’m really really sorry Cheol.” You muttered in the crook of his neck. “I’ve just been so stressed about work. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, it was not fair to take my frustration out on you.” 

When he still didn’t wrap his arms around you, you pulled back, holding his face in your hands softly. “I know it wasn’t just about sex, I know you were trying to help and I’m sorry I lashed out. Please just….. Please talk to me, we can talk it out-” 

“No, no I’m sorry Y/n.” He tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. “I didn’t mean to shut you out, I just…was thinking about what you said and-”

“Please don’t.” You hugged him tight again and this time, Seungcheol hugged you back, placing a soft kiss in your hair. “Just forget what happened, okay? It was my bad, it was just in the moment.” 

You could feel him hum, his chest vibrating against yours as you held onto your husband, relieved to have finally put this behind you. The two of you sat like that till the sound of the rain hitting the glass with a soft pitter patter took over the silence and you drew back, looking at him with a small smile. 

“Come sleep in the room?” 

Seungcheol nodded, letting you go as you quickly slid off his lap and grabbed his bedding, heading to the room.

“You didn’t have dinner either Y/n.” 

“Not hungry!” You called back as you put the pillows on his side of the bed again. “I’m kinda nauseous actually.” 

Walking into the room, Seungcheol looked he didn’t believe you before his eyes fell on the bed you were making and he gulped. 

“Y/n I…”

You turned, looking at him confused. “What happened?” 

“I can’t do this.” He confessed, taking a step back. “I can’t…”

“But Cheol I apologised-”

“No, no.” He quickly approached you, noticing how your face fell. “You didn’t have to, you were right, I… I’m the problem-” 

“That’s not true-” 

“If helping you was what I wanted, I would've stopped after you were done but I...” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t listen when you kept saying you wanted to talk, I just kept going on, like some untamed animal-”

“Cheol stop it.” You reached for his hands, trying to talk sense into him again. “You know its not like that-”

“Do we?” He looked at you frowning. “How do we know I’m not some sort of crazy sex addict?” 

“Because you…what?” You looked at him like he wasn’t making any sense. Clearly, whatever went down last night was still not letting him think straight. “Cheol what are you saying?” 

“I just… I don’t want to sleep here.” He pulled away from you. “I don’t want to sleep with you till I know I’m…”

You let out a deep breath, shaking your head. “You’re being really unreasonable right now.” 

“I just want to prove to myself that it's… it's not all about sex.” 

“There’s nothing wrong in wanting to have sex with your wife!”

“But I also want it to be more! To listen to you, to look after you, to be there for you.” 

“And you think not sleeping with me is the solution?” 

“I’m not trying to solve anything.” Seungcheol insisted. “I just want to put some space between us…. Didn’t you say last night that it had only been a week? So just, give me another, I’m… just trying to see something for myself.” 

You blinked at him. You had so many rebuttals to counter him, so many things to point out that didn’t make sense. But you also knew Seungcheol well enough - there was no point arguing with him, not when he was so emotionally driven. The only way to do it was to give him what he asked - seven days. You could do that much, right? 

“Your back is going to hurt if you sleep on the couch for a week.” You crossed your arms, letting out a heavy breath. “You can just sleep on the bed. Nothing has to happen between us.” 

Seungcheol glanced over your shoulder, lost in thought. Then suddenly he walked over and grabbed the bottom of the bed, pulling the cot apart, turning one bed into two. You watched as he dragged it away, putting a considerable distance between the two of you. “Cheol….” 

“Just seven days.” 

You looked at him across you, sitting at a distance it had taken over 20 years for the two of you to cover. All you could hope was that the next seven days did not put a lifetime of distance between the two of you again. 

A/n- Ahhhh I'm so excited to have the full fic out! I didn't think I would ever continue the story for these two but not gonna lie, they're always on my mind hehehe Do leave your thoughts and comments - it'll truly push me to get the full fic out fasterrr

[darlingdaisyfarm]

It’s so sad how mullet Stan lacks content of him 😭😭I wish there would be more fics of him so that’s why im gently asking you to give us more mullet Stan crumbs, it can be anything, headcanons or fic 😔 I will eat everything you’ll serve

⤿❝ Mullet!Stanley x reader headcanons (sfw & nsfw)⭑

a/n: agree i agree just yeah 10000% ! traumatised guys with mullet, bad habits and abandonment, daddy and mental issues are my weak spot

sfw

ᯓ★ he’s terrified of commitment but more terrified of being alone. he’ll push you away just to see if you’ll stay. he wants to trust you, but he doesn’t trust himself

ᯓ★ when he finally realizes you’re not leaving, he clings hard. like, once he’s in? he’s all in. but the idea of starting a family? he wants it so bad but so scared of it. he doesn’t want to turn into his father. he’s aware of his emotional instability and the last thing he wants is to pass that onto a kid. he doesn’t even trust himself to be a good partner, let alone a parent

ᯓ★ despite everything, still has a soft spot for kids but refuses to admit it. will grumble and complain but the second a little kid looks up at him with big, teary eyes, he’s sighing and handing over the last piece of his candy bar

ᯓ★ he is a literal stray, a stray dog that growls when you first bring him home but now follows you everywhere. you don’t date mullet!Stanley, you accidentally adopt him. this man has no home, no direction, no plan. he crashes on your couch “just for a few days, toots, promise” and then six months later he’s still there, wearing your robe, drinking straight from the juice carton

ᯓ★ acts like he doesn’t care but is secretly the most doting boyfriend. will fix your car, carry your groceries, give you his jacket when you're cold, all without asking. he just does it

ᯓ★ he doesn’t take care of himself. showers once every few days, drinks too much, smokes too much, eats like shit. if you ever cook for him it breaks him, he just stares at the plate because it’s the kindest thing anyone’s ever done to him, “you made this? for me?”

ᯓ★ road trip king. you wanna run away? hop in, sweetheart, we’ll figure it out on the way. the kind of guy who drives with one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh. he’s got half a pack of smokes, a cassette of shitty rock ballads and a mouth full of sweet-talking bullshit

ᯓ★ as i said, he acts like he doesn’t give a fuck but actually gives too many fucks. will pretend he doesn’t care when you get mad at him, but the second you turn away, he’s overthinking. “fuck what did i say? shit, why am i such an asshole?”

ᯓ★ if you tell him you love him, he always hesitates before saying it back. not because he doesn’t feel it, but because he doesn’t think he deserves it

ᯓ★ literally stunned when you take care of him. like, someone is doing something NICE for him??? with no ulterior motive???

ᯓ★ absolutely a ‘leaning’ boyfriend. leans against walls, leans against doorframes, leans against you. big strong arms wrapping around your waist from behind, head dropping onto your shoulder with a sigh

ᯓ★ survives off diner food, gas station snacks, and whatever you make him

ᯓ★ gets nervous when you’re nice to him. he’s been kicked down so many times, he doesn’t know how to handle kindness. the first time you tell him he looks good, he scoffs, says something self-deprecating, but then stares at himself in the mirror later, touching his face trying to see what you even saw in him

ᯓ★ secretly loves being babied. if you push his messy hair back, clean his cuts when he gets into a fight or tuck yourself into his side when he's sitting down, he fucking melts. “psh, ya don’t gotta do all that,” but his ears are bright red

ᯓ★ will steal anything for you. “ya like that necklace, sweetheart? consider it yours.” he’s a walking, talking, petty thief boyfriend who just wants to see you smile

ᯓ★ lets you play with his mullet when he’s feeling lazy. sits between your thighs while you brush it and if you’re gentle enough, he’ll doze off right there, resting his head against your stomach

ᯓ★ loves his car more than he should. will drag you to the garage to show you how he’s fixing up some old junker, but he looks so proud, you can’t even complain. bonus: he makes you sit in it for a “test drive” (he drives too fast just to see you scream and laugh)

ᯓ★ hands always busy. even when you’re just sitting together, his hands are moving, tinkering with something, rubbing circles on your thigh, tapping on table. he's anxious stressed guy

ᯓ★ he falls asleep anywhere instantly. he’s had years of shitty, uncomfortable sleep, so at this point he can knock out in two seconds flat. the first time you see it happen, you’re stunned. “Stan, are you seriously asleep right now—?” he is. sometimes, he falls asleep sitting up, mouth slightly open, arms crossed. if you try to move him, he’ll grunt, shift slightly and keep sleeping

ᯓ★ he’s a sucker for physical affection but doesn’t know how to ask for it. please, just hold him. run your fingers through his hair, rub his back, let him rest his head on your chest or stomach. sometimes, he’ll just stand behind you and wait until you notice and pull him into a hug. he won’t ask, but he needs it

ᯓ★ this man does not know how to handle being desired

nsfw

ᯓ★ he’s big. everywhere. broad chest, thick arms, a cock that barely fits. “c’mon, baby, you can take it. just a little more, there we go.”

ᯓ★ he’s a messy kisser. tongue, teeth, biting, groaning, he devours you. Stanley makes out like he’s trying to fuck you with just his mouth. his hands are always gripping your face, your neck, your hair, he’s desperate

ᯓ★ he loves fucking in places he shouldn’t. against the car, in an alley, in the backseat, behind a bar, on some random motel dresser, doesn’t matter. the risk of getting caught gets him off. zero patience. too horny to wait, too desperate to care where you are

ᯓ★ if you ever scratch his back? he fucking loses it. he wants you clawing at him, gripping his arms, pulling his hair. especially loves it when you bite his shoulder

ᯓ★ fucks like a guy who doesn’t know if he’ll ever get the chance again. so overwhelmed by how good you feel

ᯓ★ he groans and grunts. loud, unashamed. you know exactly how much he’s enjoying it because he never shuts the fuck up. if you try to shut him up, he just moans louder out of spite

ᯓ★ this man talks during sex. a LOT. filthy, filthy, filthy mouth

ᯓ★ but if you try to stifle your moans, oh, he won’t have that. “uh-uh, lemme hear ya, baby. don’t go all shy on me now.”

ᯓ★ he has an oral fixation, always has something in his mouth. a cigarette, a toothpick, his own damn fingers. pussy? oh, he’ll eat for hours if you let him. he’s enjoying it more than you are. his nose is pressed right against your clit, his tongue is buried deep inside you, his big hands are holding your thighs open so you can’t squirm away

ᯓ★ but what he REALLY loves? your fingers. if you put your fingers in his mouth, he’ll groan and suck on them absentmindedly. don't try to pull away, you’re not going anywhere. he’ll grab your wrist, keep your fingers between his lips and just look at you with those dark, needy eyes

ᯓ★ loves when you pull his hair so make sure to always grab and yank his mullet while he’s between your legs and he’ll groan into your pussy like he’s getting off on it

ᯓ★ the kind of man who will fuck you dumb just to make sure you don’t even remember anyone else’s name

ᯓ★ absolute menace with that tongue + so so messy. will spread your legs, settle between them and go to fucking work. licking, sucking, slurping, spitting on your clit, growling against your folds. doesn’t stop until you’re begging. “c’mon, sweetie, one more for me”

ᯓ★ absolutely gets off on how loud you are. doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the night or the middle of the day, he’ll fuck you so good you’re screaming his name, he prefers it “Stanley” tho, not just Stan

ᯓ★ smokes like a chimney, including during sex. he’s the type to take a long drag of his cigarette while you’re riding him, exhaling the smoke lazily as he watches you bounce on his cock. “fuck, baby, keep goin’. look so pretty takin’ me like that.” then puts it out against the nightstand right before flipping you over and fucking you senseless

ᯓ★ smoking during foreplay too, pulls cigarette out of his mouth and presses it into the ashtray, muttering, “gonna put this out and focus on you, sweetie.”

ᯓ★ if you complain about him smoking too much, he’ll smirk, tilt your chin up, and say something like, “well, maybe if you keep me busy enough, i won’t need to smoke, huh?” such a brat tbh

ᯓ★ grabs whatever’s closest to tie you up. belt? works just fine. an old rag? perfect. (also wants to be tied up too)

ᯓ★ a tipsy Stan gets handsy, real handsy. he’s already got no shame sober, but when he’s had a couple of drinks, he can’t keep his hands to himself, your thighs, your waist, your ass

ᯓ★ praise him in the most filthiest way possible, call him big, tell him he’s stretching you out, tell him you’ve never had anyone fuck you like this. tell him how much you love his cock, how deep he is. he thrives on that shit, loves being told how good he feels. “fuck, baby, keep talkin’ like that and i might not last.” but he also LOVES teasing you. “poor thing, already dumb from my cock?”, “look at you, makin’ a mess all over me. filthy little thing.”

ᯓ★ i 100% believe that mullet!Stanley is a bratty switch who acts tough but turns into a desperate, whiny mess the second you take control. i think it needs its own post but ok

[the-music-maniac]

It is very exhausting being in western fandom spaces sometimes. Tell me why I just wanted to enjoy a cute oubing ship vid on tiktok, and half the comments section was about people saying you can't ship them???

I wanna complain into the void, so here's a comprehensive of why Oubing/藕饼/Lotus Root Cake is fine (and even if it wasn't, why I don't give a shit):

(Spoiler warning for Nezha 2)

1. "You can't ship them cause they're brothers'": No, they are not brothers. Not by any definition of the word. Not by blood - not even sworn brothers technically, because they only refer to each other as best friends. They each have their own parents - those parents are not related to each other in any way, shape, or form. One of them is a freaking dragon, an entirely different species. Also, they're technically made of lotuses now. They weren't raised together either. Clarifying this point feels ridiculous.

2. "But they used to be part of the chaos pearl": If you wanted to define them by any type of relationship, they are soulmates. This is not me trying to spin them romantically, I mean they are literally soulmates. Their spirits are each half of a single Chaos Pearl, and they each represent opposite halves. They are literally soulmates and yin and yang.

3. "But they're children!": Are they three years old? Yes - and also no. (this is edited: I saw an official post that did say their ages were 3, not 6). They've been alive for centuries as a chaos pearl. I need you to understand that the original entity we saw at the beginning of Nezha 1, IS a creature that has been alive for thousands of years. They had personality too while they were fighting Taiyi. They were made into the pearls by the cauldron. Now, their mortal bodies as we understand it, is 3 (again edited. I originally said 6 cause I wasn't sure whether or not to count the 3 years of pregnancy). But because they're not really human, and their developmental stages therefore don't mirror a human, the movie shows them maturing into an adult form in the span of about 3 years. How do we know this? Ao Bing is the same age as Nezha, and he went from a baby to his adult form in those 3 years. The only reason Nezha is still in a child form is because he has the qiankun circle suppressing him. This is also the reason that putting the circle on his wrist releases his adult form. Also it's sort of maybe implied by the end of Nezha 2 that he may stay permanently in his adult form, since he reformed his body into it while he was in The Soup™. I dunno how accurate this part is so I suppose we'll see by Nezha 3. I would like to point out further that no three year old talks or acts like they do. Ao Bing and Nezha have very complete vocabularies, and are able to understand the complexities of their circumstances. They're both new to the world in this form, but they're not at the mental capacity of a 3 year old. It's like if you were dropped into a new form of existence with an adult brain.

4. "Nooo, why are you shipping them now": This ship is NOT NEW. It's been around since at least 2019. It is WILDLY popular in China. Back when Nezha 1 first came out, oubing literally won an award for best couple. I want you to understand the scale - from my understanding, they beat wangxian in cql. Y'all can correct me if I got this part wrong because I can't find the source of where I read this information, but if it's true, that's wild. I know the award part is correct. There was an official shampoo ad that reads like a shipping comic. Now that Nezha 2 came out, it is still one of the most popular ships. Every other post on my social media has been about Nezha 2 and at least half of that has been Oubing. There are over 2000 chinese fics on ao3 currently. Stop with this "why are you shipping them now", WE'VE BEEN SHIPPING THEM.

5. "It's not canon.": Not that I give a shit what's canon or even what the original creator thinks about shipping usually, but Jiaozi, aka the director of the movie, has stated that while he wrote Nezha and Ao Bing to just be a friendship that he thinks it is fine if people ship them. I'm pretty sure he also said something along the lines of 'people can interpret things how they want' or something.

6. Even if all of the points I made were not the case, I cannot stress enough how little I care about what someone should or should not ship. If you don't like it, just block the fanart/fic/video and move on. I promise society will not crumble because someone decides to ship two fictional characters from a mythology movie. We will be fine.

(Also if you see anyone in the chinese fandom write 藕饼cp, the cp stands for "couple". Just to clarify. They use different terms for shipping in chinese fandoms, they'll say they "ke CP" aka ship a couple)

Some of the comments I've seen make me wonder if people have even watched the movies. 'You can't ship them cause they're brothers', god don't make me laugh.

Don't let them find out that the chinese fandom is also shipping Ao Bing and Nezha from the 1979 cartoon, they'd lose their minds.

[ceilidho]

prompt: IKEA soap/reader fic. PART 4. (read 1, 2, 3) tags: dubcon; nsfw

-

You only realize after the fact that you may have miscalculated in thinking that this could be a one-time thing between the two of you. 

After listening to Johnny bitch and moan during the Christmas party about having to take time off work to spend the holidays with his very religious family, you delude yourself into thinking you’ll finally be able to have some peace and quiet around the store. Not literally, of course. Working during the holidays is always a recipe for exhaustion—parents coming in at the last minute to demand toys that have long since sold out, fights breaking out in every other aisle as customers fight for the last palatable set of Christmas ornaments and boxed fruit cake. 

You’re not delusional enough to think that work will be a piece of cake, but you are selfishly a little happy that you’ll finally get some time to breathe without Johnny hovering over your shoulder at all hours of your shift. Seasonal shoppers are as exhausting as always, but you get to sit alone in the breakroom with a cup of coffee in the morning right before your shift without someone staring at you or breathing into your personal bubble. 

Johnny spends his entire time off blowing up your phone, sending you pictures of his childhood home, calling you during your breaks, and sending you weird videos that seem to have been filmed entirely in the dark where you can’t see or hear anything apart from some weird squeaks and one loud grunt at the very end of the video that sounds kind of like—you close the video.

You spend the first few days of January dreading his return. The day of is like a shock to your nervous system, the whole morning spent pouring coffee with a trembling hand. 

“Hiya gorgeous,” he purrs when you clock in for your shift. You’re somewhat used to Johnny sneaking up behind you, so you don’t flinch this time when you feel the length of his body press up against you at the time clock. 

“Johnny, it’s seven in the morning,” you mutter out through pursed lips, shoulders stiff when he puts his hands on them and digs his thumbs into the tender points of your back. You bite back a moan.

“Missed ye, kitten. Cannae believe I went a whole week without hearing you purr.”

He could’ve phrased that a thousand other ways, but he just had to choose the one that would make you wince. He digs his thumbs in again, trying to push the moan out of you, but you tamp it down. You hold back a shudder when he plants his nose onto the crown of your head and inhales, drawing your scent into his lungs. 

“Where’ye assigned ta today? Jeff owes me a favour—gonna ask him if I can spend the day with ye so we can catch up.” 

You go still when he drops a firm kiss to the side of your head. “I’m…not sure. I haven’t checked the schedule yet.” It’s a half-lie. You may not have checked the schedule yet, but you know from having briefly chatted with your manager this morning in the parking lot where you’ll be spending most of your day.

Still, it means that you get to shake off Johnny for a bit. “Lemme go check for ye, okay, hen? Stay here, a’right?”

You watch him jog off down the hall to the breakroom before finally leaving. It’ll be better for you if you’re gone before he comes back. 

The first hour of your day is spent on softlines until Priya in jewellery randomly comes down with a chill and gets sent home early, forcing you to cover her section. Usually that wouldn’t be such a bad deal—it means you get to spend your shift helping people try on bracelets and rings, restocking the earring display, and leaning against the counter for hours at a time. It’s not a particularly busy station.  

While you're assigned to the jewellery section though, Johnny pops out of nowhere as you're helping a customer contemplating a birthday ring for his fiancé. With the kind of confidence that you’ve come to expect from Johnny, he uses your hand to model some of the rings, but this time it feels oddly weirdly intense. When he slides the first ring onto your finger, you can feel the way he holds his breath, even shudders a bit. He presses himself right up against you behind the display counter, hardness pressing against your hip. 

It doesn’t take long for your customer to leave. Johnny’s demeanour is off-putting, concerning even. You can’t fault the guy for being rightfully repulsed by the way Johnny crowds up against you like you’re alone together. 

“What are you doing?” you hiss through your teeth.

“Cannae help it, hen. I ken ye wanna wait, but it jus’ makes me a bit emotional seein’ my girl wearing a ring I put on.”

He blinks down at you with big, blue eyes, the picture of innocence. You should’ve anticipated there being a danger in letting Johnny stew over that on his own. Of course he’d come to his own conclusions, even one as deranged as thinking of your hook up as a step towards dating. You can’t help but side eye him. 

“We—we’re not a couple, Johnny.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Ye just let anybody eat you out in the supply closet then? S’that right?” It’s said rhetorically, like he knows the answer already. You flinch at the slight though.

“That was—” you cut yourself off to take a breath, an ache growing behind your forehead, “—that was a…it was a one-time thing. You can’t just act like we’re dating.”

His lips turn down in a pout, displeasure rippling across his face. You brace yourself for the inevitable argument, for shit to hit the fan, because obviously that’s what’s brewing under the surface. You brace yourself for worse too because when you happen to glance around, you realize how few people are actually milling around in the area. 

Then, instead of losing his temper, Johnny’s eyes grow smoky, heavy-lidded, and the pout lifts into a lazy, playful grin. “A’right, kitty, no’ dating then. That’s fine wi’ me.”

This time it’s you that frowns, staring up at him dubiously. “…Really?” It feels too sudden, quicksilver. Johnny’s fiery by nature, short tempered on his best days and more likely to grit his teeth and bear the displeasure of not getting his way than happily giving into it. His sudden smile is at odds with the version of him that exists in your mind, furious at you for denying him. 

Maybe you’ve got him all wrong. 

The gleam in his eye betrays nothing, however. “I swear.” He leans closer to you then, fingers fiddling with the name tag pinned over your chest on your work vest, straightening it. “Doesnae mean we have ta give the rest up though. Ye liked what we did in the closet, right, hen?”

It feels like he’s sucked the air out of the room, as big as it is. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that.”

“Och, c’mon, kitty,” Johnny breathes, hunching just a little over and into your space, making the moment feel private, just the two of you. “Had to talk about it eventually. Did ye just expect that everything would go back to normal after ye let me eat ye out? Hey—” he catches you when you try to make a move to step away from him, wrapping a big hand around your wrist and tugging you closer to him, “—listen, kitty—it doesnae have to be anything serious, right? That’s what’s making ye all jumpy and nervous? I’ll lick your pussy, free of charge. Dinnae need any labels. How’s that sound, kitty? Dick on demand?”

It should repulse you. The way he speaks to you is crass, crude. His voice is hushed, haggard, fur stretched taut over stone—and yet, your hands tremble, just a little. It tempts you. Purring Scottish burr, lapis lazuli eyes, bristle cheeks that you still remember scraping up your inner thighs. He’s a package you can’t imagine sending back.

“You won’t get…you promise not to get weird about it?” you ask.

His smile curls up, impish. “Cross my heart, kitten.”

Maybe you’re delusional enough to think that you can have your cake and eat it too. There’s a voice in your head telling you to face the facts, but you disregard it as if you haven’t been working with Johnny for months. As if you aren’t aware of his penchant for saying or doing anything to get his way. It’s maybe naive of you. 

All you know is that he smothers a laugh when you tell him you’ll think about it. Knows he’s got you right where he wants.

You don’t fight when he drags you into the single-stall bathroom towards the end of your shift, letting him position you in front of the mirror before sinking to his knees behind you. Forces you to watch the way you come apart on his tongue, not giving you his fingers until you beg him to, the whispered plea a hairsbreadth away from becoming a scream. 

“Oh, did she miss me?” Johnny breathes, a happy laugh in his voice when he runs the broad side of his tongue over your entrance from the back. “Fuck, look at that. Winked at me ‘n everythin’. Hi darling, missed ye too.”

You don’t think you’ll ever be the same after hearing that come out of his mouth. You go hot all over again when you clench involuntarily, equal parts turned on and horrified. He sniggers before trying to cram his whole tongue up into you. 

There’s a moment of panic when Johnny draws up behind you after making you come and you hear him undo his pants. There’s nowhere for you to go with your pants still looped around your ankles, underwear pulled all the way down as well. You hear yourself hiss a startled Johnny when he slots a fat cock between your thighs, staring dumbly at the reflection of him behind you. At your back, he seems massive, lean and trim but towering over you, broad. 

He shushes you. “Dinnae be selfish, hen—gotta get mine too. Jus’ gonna fuck your thighs, dinnae fret.”

You squeak when he pushes your thighs together forcefully, dragging his cock over your folds to wet himself. Watching Johnny fuck is nothing like staring down at him when he eats you out. He pants harsh and ragged into the side of your head, nips at your ear. The glint in his eyes goes animalistic, vacant. Human desire recedes, subsumed into the animal part of his brain with the single-minded need to fuck. 

The only thing keeping him from driving up into you, accidentally or not, is the way you keep your thighs pressed together. A warm, tight channel for him to push his cock into. Thick fingers dig into your waist, sure to leave bruises. You wince when lean hips pound against your backside, growing frantic as need overtakes him. You flirt at the edge of panic, certain that at any second, he’ll pull your thighs apart and nudge the head of his cock up into you. 

“Jus’ like that, fuck,” he grunts. “Be a good little fuckin’ girl and jus’ let me—”

His tongue lolls out on a particularly rough thrust, hands groping over your belly and up to your chest, slipping his hand under your shirt and bra to pinch your nipple. He twists it mean, nasty, until you have no choice but to grunt through grit teeth, eyes watering. You feel like a doll meant for his pleasure, no choice but to grip the sides of the sink and let Johnny use you until he comes. 

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, eyes going half-lidded. “Love makin’ this pussy come. Love gettin’ her all messy and wet. Lettin’ me between your thighs even when I make ye nervous—fuck, ‘m gonna come, ‘m gonna—fuck, fuck, fuck—”

White come stripes the sink in front of you, thick and viscous. Paints the inside of your thighs as well when he drags his hips back until just the head of his cock sits nestled up against your sex. Hyperconscious of where it tags your inner lips, that there’s no barrier between the two of you, just come and skin. 

The full body shake shocks you, a ripple from your heels to the top of your head. 

His free hand grasps you by the hair when you try to slip away. “Ye gonna clean up your mess, baby?”

You glance back up at his reflection in the mirror, trying to suss him out. Shark-like eyes meet yours. Something you’ve seen in glances before finally staring back at you with full force. You reach for the paper towel dispenser with a shaking hand. 

“Nah,” Johnny scolds, giving you a shake. “With your mouth.”

The command hangs in the air, no joke or laugh to undercut it. His eyes read serious to you, still dark. No leniency present in the blue. 

You stare down at his come on the sink, slack-jawed. “You don’t seriously mean—”

“Jus’ kidding, silly,” he chuckles, giving a teasing bite to your earlobe and tugging. The tension in the air disperses. “Got ye, huh?” 

You force a laugh. “Yeah…got me.”

[fairysongs]

౨ৎ coming home too late﹕spencer reid .ᐟ

summary: based entirely on the song, coming home by beabadoobee. pure fluff.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

includes: soooo much fluff, spencer’s pov, spencer is in love with reader, reader is just as in love with him, very small mention of depression, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader loves to clean, established relationship, derek morgan is spencer and reader's #1 fan, did i mention spencer is in love?

word count: 1.7k

a/n: eeeek my second fic!! i got so happy writing this. maybe the most sickening sweet thing i ever did do. i love beabadoobee's music so much i kinda wanna write a million different things based on her songs. Anyways..!!! as always likes/reblogs/feedback appreciated :3

spencer reid had never felt more relieved to be sitting inside this jet than he was right now.

sure, he’s happy every single time his team is able to wrap up a case. he’s happy every single time they catch the bad guy. he’s happy every single time justice is brought to victims and their families. he’s happy every single time he gets to come home and see you. he’s happy every single time he notices the way your eyes light up when you see him walk through the door. he’s happy every single time you throw your arms around his neck and he gets to pick you up, inhaling your sweet scent as if he’d never be able to embrace you again.

but this time it was a little different. it was currently 6:54pm in california where the latest case was. meaning it was 9:54pm back home. it would take approximately five hours to fly home and another thirty minutes to drive to his apartment. meaning he wouldn’t step through his door until way after three in the morning and he knew you’d be sound asleep by then. and it was saturday, a day that never held much weight to him until he started living with you.

he found out that you grew up with a rather strict routine in your home. your parents deemed every saturday ‘cleaning day’. every saturday you did your weekly chores and that habit stuck with you as you moved on to live with college roommates, on your own and eventually with spencer.

he remembers when he first asked you to move in with him. you’d been dating for about a year and a half at that point. he brought it up in a rather nonchalant way and he was so thankful you were not a profiler and couldn’t tell how hard his heart was beating inside his chest as he started to ask.

“you know… you sleepover here a lot. i mean, you have your own drawer in my dresser, your own space in my closet…” he started one morning, sipping from his mug of sugary sweet coffee. “your skincare stuff in my bathroom, your special shampoos in my shower… your little treats stocked in my fridge…” his lips started twitching, trying to fight the stupid large smile that wanted to show on his face.

you hummed in response, your fingers tapping against your own mug that was full of tea. you hated coffee. when he learned that he bought a box of your favorite tea and kept it stocked in his kitchen. “are you… complaining?” you asked, voice sort of quiet with uncertainty.

he shook his head immediately, realizing he wasn’t being as straightforward as he assumed. “no!” his voice squeaked slightly, causing you to raise your eyebrows. “no… no, i was just… i mean, you spend so much time here and i really love it. i love you being here with me and i… if you wanted to move in i would… i mean, i want you to move in. if you want to. please.”

thankfully your heart was just as pretty as you were and you didn’t let him nervously ramble for too long. instead you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “relax. i’d love to, spencer. but i have to warn you, i’m quite a lot to deal with twenty-four seven…” he would just stare back at you, with nothing but love and admiration pouring from brown hues. he always thought you were so silly when you’d say things like that and he’d spend the rest of the morning telling you that while peppering sweet kisses to every inch of your skin.

he did learn very quickly just how serious you were about your routine. you woke up at six in the morning every saturday. you’d start in the bathroom, then make your way to the kitchen, then collect the dirty laundry from the week, then focus on organizing every little desk and shelf he had in his home. at first you wouldn’t let him help you, explaining that you didn’t want him to feel obligated in helping you with your own crazy little habit. he’d shake his head and just ask you what kind of laundry detergent you liked as he piled clothes into a basket.

“if you keep up with it weekly, then it won’t get out of hand and too big to fix.” you mumbled one time while scrubbing the dishes. “sometimes when the scaries got really bad, i used to forget to keep up with my cleaning. all the mess just made things more unbearable. keeping on top of it makes me feel more in control. even if the ‘cleaning’ one week is just refilling the toilet paper and doing one single load of laundry.”

he nodded his head in response, emptying the trash beneath the sink. spencer was nothing but soft with you, but even more so whenever you mentioned your struggles with depression or ‘the scaries’ as you called it. the two of you quickly fell into a habit every single saturday. you split the work load. you’d do the dishes, he’d carry the trash out, you’d fold the laundry, he’d vacuum the rug. he didn’t have to say it, you’d already know, but he enjoyed the structure of routine just as much as you did. the rest of your saturdays were spent on the sofa, your head in his lap while you forced him to watch your favorite childhood show. takeout food spread across the coffee table in front of you. there was so much comfort the two of you found in the domesticity of it all.

so, yes, he was a little bit upset he missed this saturday and was so ready to get home and pull you into his arms and never let go. he hadn’t noticed him spacing out, eyes focused on the same page of a book he was reading for five minutes, until he heard derek morgan’s voice.

“hey, loverboy!” spencer’s head snapped up, brows furrowing at the man giving him a cheeky smile. “you’ve been staring at that page for an eternity. what’s on your mind, huh?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.

you met the whole team ages ago and every one of them adored you but derek especially admired the way you loved spencer. he’d never say it out loud, unless it was in a teasing way to get spencer to blush, but he genuinely believed you were an angel sent to the boy genius. derek noticed how blissful you made him, how gentle you were and how safe he felt with you. how could his heart not swell in appreciation for the love you gave to his brother?

“i missed cleaning day…” spencer spoke, brows pulling together slightly. there was a soft sigh that fell from his lips as he pulled his phone from his pocket. your last text saying you were gonna stay up and wait for him even though you both knew that you’d fall asleep the moment you got comfortable.

“okay… and is that a bad thing?” derek responded, leaning back into his seat with a slightly confused expression.

“well, yeah. she likes cleaning every saturday and we normally split the work between us. that way we have more time to spend together.” spencer huffed and tucked his phone away again. he closed the book he was reading. “it’s more than just the cleaning, derek. i hate being away from her, you know? we never know when we’re gonna get called away on a case like this and i like spending as much time as i can with her. and i hate coming home late. it makes me feel like i’ve missed so much.”

derek breathed out a laugh but nodded, understanding all too well what he meant. emily prentiss came around the corner, one hand holding a cup of coffee and the other resting gently on spencer’s shoulder. “spencer reid, you have become the most smitten, lovestruck man since you met that girl. and it’s the most adorable thing in the world.” everyone on the jet chuckled softly at that, even aaron hotchner, while he blushed and adverted his eye contact towards the shaded window. he knew they weren’t laughing at him, more so showing an expression of how happy they were that he was happy.

he stepped into the dimly lit living room of his apartment at exactly 3:26am. the tv glowed over your sleeping body on the sofa, arms wrapped tightly around a stuffed red panda he gifted you a few birthdays ago. the netflix screen asking ‘are you still watching avatar: the last airbender?’ shined in his face as he leaned in to shut the machine off. he walked over to your sleepy state, a tiny smile growing on his lips as he leaned in to brush some of your hair from your face. he tucked one arm beneath your knees and held the other one to your arm as he carried you to the bedroom.

you stirred, humming softly as he quietly shushed you. “shh, hi baby. i’m home now. go back to bed, yeah?”

“how was the flight?” you asked in a soft whisper, ignoring his requests. he chuckled, shaking his head and he set you gently on the cushion of his mattress.

“it was fine. too long. i’m sorry i’m home late.” he was just as quiet as you, pulling the duvet over your body and tucking it at your shoulders. he picked up the stuffed animal that had fallen beside the bed and tucked it next to you as well.

“it’s okay. we always have tomorrow.” with your eyes still closed, you smiled as he kissed your forehead.

“yes, my love. we do, don’t we? i’m gonna get changed okay? go back to bed.”

“i’ll wait for you.”

when he was changed out of his work clothes and into his pajamas, he turned back and found you soundly asleep again. he let out a quiet laugh, got into bed and pulled you right to his chest. he played with your hair until he fell asleep too, no longer upset about the day he missed with you because you were right.

he always had tomorrow.

[allfearstofallto]

PLS CAN YOU FEED US MORE hero of the nation knight!childe ON MY KNEES I LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH AND I SEARCHED EVERYWHERE FOR A FIC LIKE THIS

This took FOREVER to write, but here you go!!

Blessings Be to The Hero of the Nation

Historical AU

Yandere Hero of the Nation! Childe x Fem! Reader

TW: yandere themes, stalking, minor character death, blood, threatening, forced marriage/engagement

He kept one of your hair ribbons wrapped around the hilt of his sword. It billowed in the wind constantly and would draw watchful eyes to it. That pastel pink fabric didn't match a single thing on his brutish, usually bloody exterior, but he still kept it regardless. You tragically didn't give it to him in a blatant display of affection and well wishes for him on his journey, instead, he found the little ribbon after it'd blown off your head and up to the wind. A little pout formed on your lips realizing you'd lost it, but you decided against retrieving it. He didn't though. He picked it up and placed it in his pocket, taking it home to clean off the dirt and grime.

That same ribbon was clenched in his hands when he arrived at the gate of your manor, along with a few other gifts that he would give to you. He'd just slayed the dragon, the wretched menace that was terrorizing the nation, now and only now did he feel worthy to ask for your hand. Cleaning off all the blood and gore that was on his armor, polishing it into light metal that could blind anyone who looked directly at it, he was certain that this would charm you off of your feet.

When he was invited into your home by your parents who were surprised to see the hero himself at their door, he didn't care about the tea or the cakes. The praise meant nothing coming from them. He skipped the pleasantries and went straight to the point. He wanted your hand in marriage and he wanted the wedding to be soon.

A skittish expression crossed your father's face as he gritted his teeth, “We've decided to leave that decision up to her.” Childe smirked, that was even better. He'd never met a woman who wouldn't fall for his charms.

You were called down from your room, eyelids heavy and half open, still in your thin sleeping gown with a robe over it. You were rubbing the tiredness from your eyes as you walked down the stairs, your other delicate hand gripping the banister. And when you saw him, you bowed. A deep traditional bow, given to those of a respectable higher status.

He kneeled down on one knee before you. The male kneeled for only one person, the queen herself. His sword pulled from its sheath, he laid it flat against his palms, offering it up to you. That knocked the sleepiness from his body and suddenly your eyes were wide open. Genuine shock was making your body stiff as a board and you looked back and forth to your parents who didn't say a word.

“Your visage has danced around my heart non stop since the first time I laid eyes on you. I wish to use this sword only to fight for you. Won't you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Words spoken in honor, with him meaning every bit of it. You were meant to take the sword from his hands, tapping it gently upon each of his shoulders, but you didn't. You just stood there, lips trembling, but not saying anything.

A marriage proposal via a letter was easy to ignore or reject, you didn't have to see their reaction. But never had you had someone be so bold as to propose to you in person. And not only that, the very hero that saved the Kingdom. Rumors told you he'd be marrying the first princess, she obsessed over him before he became the hero and those feelings seemed to only grow stronger after he waltzed into the city with the bloody head of the beast. Yet here he was at your feet, patiently anticipating your answer which he was positive was going to be a yes.

“I-'' you began, trying to think of the easiest way to let him down gently, “I fear that I'm not ready for marriage yet.” You said hurriedly. That wasn’t entirely a lie. You spent countless hours looking at the list of marriage candidates and scoping them out at balls and parties, but quickly realizing that none of them suited your tastes in that way. The entire idea of being wed barely satisfied you. You wanted to push it off for as long as possible.

“I'm willing to wait for you until the world crumbles. I'd even accept being your fiance until the day we die, as long as I can say you're mine,” he was persistent, you'd give him that.

You fiddled with your fingers nervously. Time felt as if it had stopped and this moment would never end. No matter what you did, he was still going to be there, “I thought you were to be wed to her highness, the princess?” You questioned him.

A scoff fell from his cherry pink lips, eyes looking you up and down, drinking in every inch of your body in that thin nightgown, “She does not interest me. Not the way you do.”

“There is really nothing interesting about me,”

“Won't you let me be the judge of that?”

Your shoulders slumped as you looked to your parents. They seemed as surprised by his persistence as you did, but weren't going to step in to help you, they always affirmed that it was your decision, they wanted you to be independent.

“Forgive me, hero, but I can not accept your offer,”

For just a split second you saw that princely expression slip. His eyes grew dark, lips in a deep frown, a rage you'd never seen before. But he was back to his usual expression in less than a second, that charming smile forming on his lips again as he stood from his knees and sheathed his sword a little too slowly.

“You wound me, my lady,” he'd mutter softly, hands still conveniently tight around the hilt of this sword, “Won't you please accept my gifts? And if you are to begin considering marriage, I hope that my proposal will be remembered fondly.”

Childe showed himself out, a little too quickly, but you didn't dare tell him to slow down. It was only once he was out those large double doors, did the air in your home feel breathable, you finally felt safe again. You watched his carriage leave from a window, watching as his eyes went dull again, losing all shimmers and feeling like a hollow mimicry of what humans were supposed to look like.

You were quite embarrassed to say you fell in love after that. Not with Childe, of course. You mentally tried to push the man from your mind after the way he startled both you and your family. Instead, your feelings developed for a commoner boy. You found yourself eyeing him when he'd deliver produce to your home, his face being one of pure beauty despite his messy exterior. As months went by, you'd catch yourself stealing bashful glances at him, locking eyes only for both of you to look away shyly. When the engagement was announced, Childe was one of the first to hear about it.

You twirled around the house in your wedding dress. Something plain and basic, but it was what your family could afford, and quite honestly, you loved it. You didn't want to take it off. Your fear of getting it dirty lessened as the days went by, until the wedding was only a week away.

“A guest for you, my lady,” one of your maids had said. Typically, when the employees of the house saw you dressed in your white gown, they'd smile at you, overjoyed as well. But she didn't. She looked worried, even a bit tense as she made the announcement to you.

“I hadn't arranged to meet anyone today,” you said a bit quietly, going to you closer to pick out something to change into, “Please tell them to wait in the day room.”

She stood stiffly for a second, then opened her trembling mouth to speak again, “I tried to, my lady. But he insisted on seeing you right now. He's just outside the door,”

A part of you wanted to ask who it was, who would be so disrespectful as to barge right up to a lady's room without her permission. But you already knew. There was a sense of unease sinking into your stomach. Unease and recognition. All the gifts and letters he'd sent weren't enough, were they? The man you were ignoring just had to come see you in person.

“Let him in,” you told the maid. She seemed confused at the ease at which you allowed such a thing, but still opened the door, revealing Childe who stood still in the hallway. He stepped past her, eyes only trained on you, “You're dismissed,” you said quietly, with a reassuring smile to the maid. Hesitance danced across her face, looking back and forth between you Childe, but she still did as told, bowing before leaving.

“You look lovely,” he said breathlessly, taking in the sight of you in that pure white dress.

“Thank you,” was all you could think to say back. Now that he was here before you, your mind was growing blank, all the things you wanted to say suddenly getting lost in fear. You tried not to notice the tension in the room, the way he was eyeing you like a predator about to pounce on a rabbit, but even your tough exterior was easy to see through.

“My heart aches for you, my lady,” he speaks softly while taking slow steps towards you. The terror of this situation made you move backwards, until your feet had made you press your back against the wall, “I fear that my haste might've made me do something…irrational.”

His dominant hand seems focused on the sword at his hip, making you look at it. It was only when you saw the red speckles all over his hand, hilt of the sword, and the oddly familiar pink ribbon he kept tied around it, did that coppery smell fill your nostrils.

With a trembling voice and a fake smile, you tried to assure him, “Any mistake is fixable, Sir Childe.”

“Not this one,” his hand continued to hold the hilt of his sword, squeezing it a few times as of testing the weight of his blade, “Do you know the best part of being the hero? The dragon slayer?” He asked, waiting for your response which was just a slow, forced shake of your head, prompting him to continue, “It's not the riches or the praise. It's not even the women.” As he speaks, one of his hands slides down from your cheek, to your neck, to the bodice of your dress. Tearful eyes look down to see him smearing that red liquid, that blood onto you white dress, staining it.

“I don't understand,” you mumbled, but your words fall on deaf ears.

“The best part of being the hero, is the freedom to do what I want. With no prosecution. Who in their right mind would stand up to the man who saved our failing nation? The answer is no one. Not the king, nor his workers, and especially not your weak little fiance,”

The sight and smell of blood, Childe's deep, hollow blue eyes, the way your heart felt as if it wanted to lurch out of your mouth. All things you tried to focus on as his words pounded their way into your skull, understanding washing over you like a wave that was trying to drown you where you stood.

“Wh-what did you do?” Your voice, so high pitched and breaking as the weight of the words forced through your body.

His hand, cold, soft, wet with blood rubbed your cheek, while his face never faltered, those dead eyes never changing, he had no remorse. It made you sick to your stomach, images of your fiance flashing through your head as you tried to imagine what he looked like, the hopeful ones saying that he was at least still alive.

“I'm going to ask again, nicely this time,” he began while pulling a ring from his pocket. Much more intricate than the one your fiance had given you, seeing as he had the hero's budget. But that didn't make you feel any less light headed when it was slipped onto your ring finger, freezing cold against your warm skin, “Will you do me the honor of becoming my bride?”

[b0xerdancer-writes]

Baring Teeth

Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Summary: Azriel and reader are mates, after what has felt like a lifetime to them with how fast life has seemed to move Azriel finds himself wanting what his brothers have, his mate having been through hell and back is willing to give him whatever she can.

Warnings: Some smut scenes, death, violence, war, torture, blood, inappropriate language and jokes, this is entirely an 18+ work.

Word Count: 14,099

Notes: This was meant to be that Azriel baby fever fic from the get-go, but I got sidetracked, it gets there eventually. Lemme know if you would like to see a part 2!

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If you asked Azriel he was anything but a jealous male, if you asked his mate however she would tell you it was circumstantial at best.

It had been only a handful of years since my sisters had destroyed the cauldron and the king of Hybern but life seemed to want to fasten its pace. I couldn’t say I didn't blame it for wanting too either.  Being born between Nesta and Elain always had its challenges, my mother favored Nesta as the first born and both of my parents always doted on Elain for her sweet, caring, and gentle nature; I had always just been there neither parent cared what I did and that was amplified when Feyre was born. I used the opportunity to learn something unique for my family, how to wield a sword, to fight, to kill. I used the opportunity to learn from guards, sell swords, mercenaries, and what teachers were available to me. 

So when my family lost all of their money I announced I’d be working as a sellsword, Nesta had thrown a fit about it but at this point she threw a fit about everything. I had a small amount of gold stashed for myself so when my parents finally decided to marry me off I’d run and buy all the things I needed to start my career as a sellsword, or mercenary, or just whatever I ended up becoming; I’d announced I was going into town and slipped out the door with the bag of coins strapped to my waist. I had bought a few furs, a good quality sword that would get me through till I could buy a better one, some bags I was able to strap across my body, and some easy traveling clothes, and some small pieces of leather. I knew if I was going to be gone they would need some way to be able to get food; I split my coin down the middle and used half of what I had left to buy them food, the other half I’d save for travel expenses. 

I dropped the food off with my sisters and father, then slipped back out the door after a quick goodbye and made my way towards one of the nobles' nearest estates. One of my teachers had written to me when he found out about my family's misfortune and told me he was stationed there and would recommend me to the lord he worked for, all I had to do was show up. I Showed up like he said, not to the front door but to the side door, the servants quarters and there I was greeted by my teacher and some other for hire guards who all coaxed me in with pats on my back and one went to fetch the head of staffing. It was an easily acquired job with a recommendation from my teacher and the other guards that had greeted me at the door, an even easier job to perform with good pay; simple patrols and hunting shifts at 50 gold a day. 

While I was there the barracks became my home, the other sellswords and mercs became family and before I knew it I was going out with them on the days we were released and getting drinks and celebrating. I had a pretty good stash of gold saved up, kept it in a nice bag that my belt strapped through and kept it firmly against my hip, I would write to my sisters and send them 10 gold once a week to help keep them fed. If I sent more I knew Nesta or Elain would commandeer it and use it on useless things, they could at least stock up on a good amount of fillers like rice or barley with 10 gold.

 They never wrote back, it was probably a good thing in hindsight. Had any of them mentioned Feyre being taken by the fae I would have gone right after her, but there was no mention of it to me until I got a letter from Nesta one day saying they had been moved into a new estate and father’s fortune had been restored by some sheer dumb luck. I wrote back congratulating them but making them aware I had no intention of giving up my post; then the next letter came written by Nesta again it had said something was wrong with feyre, telling the story of what had actually happened while I was gone. It had told me that Feyre had been taken by some fae monster that then she had returned after that first letter had been sent to me but had to leave again to go after some male she loved, but that this time she called the same male she left for the first time a monster  and had appeared at the estates doorstep with three males on her heels and asked for us to hear them out. I didn’t bother writing back, Nesta had sent that letter the same day. If I took a horse I’d be at where they mentioned their estate was within two hours, so I stepped down from my post and was told if I ever needed it to come right on back to them; I set out towards my family's estate with a large fur on my back to battle the chill winds, when I arrived a staff member took the horse and showed me inside. 

Nesta was the first to greet me, pulling me in for a hug and telling me how proud she was that I made something of myself; she told me how tense the atmosphere had been since Feyre showed up with the males, that feyre was now a member of the fae and she had somehow been changed into one of them. I had nothing against the civil fae but we were close enough to the wall some strays would slip through and tear apart weaker humans,  I had helped the barracks crew take down some rogues that slipped past the wall on a few occasions; nothing big, nagas as I had been told were the most common ones we faced. 

Stepping into the room elain squealed and buried herself into my side and the fur I wore, I heard Feyre call out to me with hesitancy as her eyes raked over the small scars the littered my exposed skin from the fights in the woods or sparring accidents; I motioned her over and pulled her into a hug, fae or not she was still my family and still my baby sister. The fae behind her had introduced themselves and their positions, they seemed to have no qualm with me but with Nesta and Elain. One wrong comment sent Elain into tears while she profusely apologized to Feyre, the two had their moment but it didn’t set right with me; yes they were in the wrong for doing nothing while Feyre hunted almost daily for them and I was off working, but they very obviously realized they had fucked up and were in the wrong. It did not mean they got to insult my family and I made sure they knew that, one of the males the tallest with the biggest wings there that I would later come to know as Azriel, seemed amused with my wild and protective temper and applauded me for it. 

They later left with promise to come back soon, I busied myself with the guards and servants we had around the estate by leading patrols and hunting parties myself; I stayed out of most of their business so the next time I saw them  I had just returned from a hunting party, dragging a decent sized deer to the kitchen. The tall male found me there in the kitchen caught off guard when he found me there, sleeves rolled up and cloak tossed to the size with a butcher knife in my hand while dismembering the deer; he had introduced himself to me then, as Azriel, and offered to help. I tossed him the hide and asked him to bring it out back, string it up on the dry rack. He agreed, I’d get around to curing the skin of the hide after I finished drying and preparing the rest of the meat; when he returned I had already stored all the meat away and was by the sink basin washing the deers dark blood from off my hands, I looked up at him from the corner of my eye and watched as his breath hitched and he quickly excused himself from the room. 

Nesta was the one who collected me when the queens were on their way, a new member had joined us in the living room that I had not recognized but she introduced herself as Mor; I stood silently like a guard myself when the human guards joined us, silently judging them as my sister and ‘her mate’ as she had called him explained to the queens what they needed. The meeting was surprisingly quick, the queens leaving just as quickly as they had arrived. We ate dinner together like a family that night, Azriel made small talk with me about my skills and training; I had to admit to myself that I found it endearing no one else even my sisters cared or dared, I wasn’t sure which  it exactly was with them, to ask me about it.

They left the next morning, and life returned to normal once the servants themselves returned; Oftentimes I got incredulous looks for being in the back working on my pelts or  sparring with the dummy I had ordered set up when I returned to the estate, other times the children of the servants were more than ecstatic to ask me of tales I had experienced within the woods. I had ended up using that deer hide in my cloaks, something about it was sentimental to me, though I couldn’t quite place why. 

A few weeks later, my nerves were on end, like the times when the entire barracks would ride out together hunting a naga or other rogue beast and we weren’t quite sure where they were lurking. I didn’t bother changing out of my armor and cloak. I should’ve trusted my gut that night, as I was unable to find sleep easily and only able to fall asleep with my blade at my side and a dagger under my pillow. I awoke to screaming from down the hall, Elain’s scream, I burst out of my room blade in hand knocking a few of them off their feet as the door collided with them.

One thing that had been instilled into me over the time with my teachers was the fact the bigger you looked the more intimidating you could be, my piled furs and cloak were an extension of that teaching; a large black wolf pelt was my crowning piece on my shoulders the, the deer hanging over my shoulders under that like a shawl. 

The fae turned to look at me in the faint light and darkness of our home, needless to say the illusion I was aiming for had worked on them as I heard several yell, “Beast!”, in alarm at me. And beast I was, I had taken down and decapitated several of them before they finally apprehended me in my war path to get to Elain and Nesta, the latter I realized had been gagged and I saw blood on her face; ever the fighter she was I had seen one of them holding her nursing one of his hands over the other and had surmised she had bitten him, and taken a chunk from his hand. I’d have to applaud her eventually for that, it was genius thinking and she was always so much smarter than she let on. They doused us with some sort of potion or substance that swept Elain under immediately, Nesta fought off the sleep as much as she could but after a few seconds went under herself; I fought against them straining and struggling, teeth bared, fighting off the sleep that coaxed me at the edges of my mind till they had to use another dose to put me under.

I awoke to chaos. So much was happening. Azriel and Cassian were insanely injured but still trying to fight the bane in their systems to crawl to us. Feyre bawling. Two males and a female I didn’t recognize beside her. The male I had been introduced to as Rhysand was in pain himself. A large male in the center of the room. Two guards either side of Elain hauling her up. A large thing that didn't seem natural in the center of the room. Nesta had three guards around her. I had seven. The seven I realized were on edge around me, made uneasy by me. Made uneasy even though I was restrained in any way they could think of. I felt like a beast surveying its options of prey to hunt. 

The large male in the center, realizing all of us were finally awake, finally introduced himself as the King of Hybern, a name I recognized Azriel’s family talking about at the meeting. The King introduced the strange object as ‘The Cauldron’, Azriel had mentioned it was something akin to a god to them. Not natural indeed. He motioned for the guards to bring Elain forward as he explained his plan, the guards raised her over the large pot; she screamed and thrashed in their grip, red marks and bruises already appearing on her skin. I saw red. I shot forward, catching all the guards around me by surprise as they scrambled to get ahold of my restraints and chains; they stopped me just as Elain went under, my arms were pinned behind my back by a chain and I snarled, insults and threats falling from my mouth. I heard Nesta react similarly yet not as violently as I was, seemingly stunned by everything going on, or maybe it was just her cold mask refusing to let the King and our enemies see how much she was fazed.

The king simply let out a dark laugh. “The feral beast bares her teeth.” It was meant as a condescending remark.

They pulled Elain out of the cauldron and I jolted forward towards her again, catching the ones holding my chains off guard and several of them fell to the floor from the sudden jerk forward that caused them to lose their footing. One of the males at Feyre’s side mumbled something I didn’t catch thanks to the blood pounding in my ears, and my attention caught on him and the blondes beside him; he straightened eyes, or eye, wide and he stumbled back. I turned my attention back to the so-called ‘King’, promises of death dripping like venom from my teeth; I barely caught the fact Rhys or maybe it was Mor had pulled Elain to their side of the room. 

The King tilted his head at me, an amused smile on his face as he spoke to me. “You want to behave like a beast? So be it.” He turned his attention to the seven around me. “Get her in that cauldron I don’t care how.” 

A chorus of yes sirs surrounded me and the chains began to dig into my skin as they tried to pull me towards the over-sized cooking pot.  I had just started to lose my footing when a weak call came from my right, giving me just enough motivation to regain it.

“Fight them! You’ve taken down worse things than them! They are nothing compared to those Nagas in the woods! Come on! I believe in you! Show them those techniques you told me about!” Azriel had  braced himself on one elbow wincing against the fae bane in his system. 

I nodded and braced myself the best I could, the guards stood on the other side of the pot as me and I turned slightly as I let out a snarl like smile. They looked between each other in worry as I dug my boots into the ground and hauled ass the other direction, dragging one of them too close to the cauldron they tripped, losing control of the chain and fell in screaming himself. One of the others dropped a chain to the floor, giving me more breathing room, to help the screaming male out of the pot; he trashed on the floor ripping his armor off exposing his skin that had begun boiling and simply falling off.

The others tightened their grip on my chains but were distracted by the horror of the scene, the one that had helped him out screamed and began throwing up. I heard Nesta cheer behind me, and I turned my attention to what seemed like the now weakest guard holding my chains; I charged forward, the male screamed in horror as I caught him off guard and took a page out of Nestas book and sunk my teeth into his throat. Just as I was expecting the guards on the opposite side pulled violently and assisted me in pulling his throat out, I wasn’t going to go down easy, and by whatever gods did exist it was going to be violent and bloody. He grasped his hollowed throat and tried to scream as he collapsed and I spit the wad of torn flesh towards the King’s feet; I was down to four guards , but what I didn’t account for was the backwards motion created by the other 3 guards.

I had collided with the side of the cauldron and howled out in pain, the guards took the opportunity to haul me up; I tried thrashing but every time I moved pain shot through my body. Unable to struggle against the water as it pulled me in I snapped at the guard trying to push my head under’s hand, taking a few fingers with me as I finally submerged. 

It was dark for a moment, then I was in an open room able to stand on my feet and move without pain. I heard shuffling somewhere opposite me, the more I moved forward so did it; till I was face to face with a giant beast, black and golden brown, eyes that seemed to look into my soul, and grand antlers with flesh hanging from them. The sickening feeling like I was looking in a mirror sunk into my chest, when I moved the beast moved. 

Then it finally spoke, yet it didn’t at the same time. Something ancient I couldn't understand or speak. Yet intrinsically I knew what it was asking me. That if my true nature was like that of the beast itself, that I should just give in. That if I did I would bring all my enemies to their knees, take them all to their graves. It asked if I would accept that part of me, asked if I would accept its offer of power. I nodded, and it stepped forward lowering its head to my level. I stepped forward meeting it there in the middle of the never ending, ethereal space. It pressed its head against me, and then I was taking a large gasping breath as I felt my bones break and reforge, a blinding pain before I could see detail so much sharper then I had been able to, could hear everything as every sense in me heightened. I felt stronger, felt faster, like one of the beasts I hunted in the woods with my friends in the barracks. Then I felt the inky thickness of the Cauldrons water again, I could see my own hands and claws as I reached out and felt the cool metal; I felt the chains around me tighten again ever so slightly before they fell away as I began to haul myself from the black water. It sloshed and spilled over onto the floor as I emerged, blacker than the depths of the shadows that followed me through the woods in the late hours of the night.

I swallowed a breath as I hauled myself over the edge of the cauldron and finally collapsed on the floor; I used my hands to keep me from fully collapsing as I kneeled there and looked up at the King, a deadly promise in my eyes as I snarled a simple “Your head will be mine and I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

My hair hung in my face, droplets of black water slowly fading to a normal color as I dried, and he smiled in amusement. “Once a beast always a beast.”

I took a breath and looked down at the puddle on the floor, my firs were still wrapped around me though sopping wet but it wasn’t my obviously messed up appearance that shocked me, but the eyes that looked back at me that did. Thin slits like the beast I had seen within those waters stared back, the color still my own but so much different. I heard Azriel call out for me in a strangled noise, I turned my attention sharply towards him to find him looking devastated; I wanted to comfort him, he was such a good male and I was in so much pain I was exhausted, I hauled myself shakily to my feet barely able to make it to him as I collapsed at his side. Nesta called out to me as my vision began to fade, and I saw Cassian lurch forward despite the threat to his life as he screamed for her. I lost my vision just ;as she was going under’ the simple threat to the king, so much calmer than  my own, made me smile before I passed out.

I had despised waking up in places I was unfamiliar with, I shot up with a growl before wincing and clutching my side. A small female attempted to calm me down to no avail, till I heard Azriel’s weak voice through the haze. 

“Hey Wildling, woah, woah, they are just trying to help. They’re our healers. You're in the Night Court, remember me telling you about this place?” He was on a cot in just his leather pants, a large white bandage around his waist, chest, over one shoulder, and around his massive wings.

I nodded and looked around slowly, all the fae were looking at me terrified and on edge, like they would run from the room at the slightest growl from me.

“Sorry, just caught by surprise.” I mumbled and looked down at the bandages around my own waist, they covered my chest and entire torso.

I didn’t really care about modesty, you live with men for long enough especially mercs and sellsword men that you stop caring, and they stop caring about your own body. Many times I hade changed into my uniform or hunting clothes in front of them while we were all getting ready for the day's assignments. I scanned over the bandages no blood leaked through but everytime I moved It hurt, everytime I took too deep a breath it hurt. 

“I’m sure from your experience you can gather what happened?” Azriel’s voice was soft, and a comfort. I wouldn’t admit it, yet anyways until I found out everything that was going on, but I had started to consider him a friend or maybe something even more; I mean those wings were fascinating and from the time we aparred in the back he had experience and when my knee had met his crotch in a low blow, after all who fought fair anymore, he was well endowed. 

“I’m one of you now, aren’t I? Elain and Nesta too, just like Feyre.” I quirked a brow at him and he nodded.

“And as for your injuries, what do you assume happened?” He quirked a brow right back at me, a test of my knowledge like we had done with sparring.

“Broken ribs? That pull back had to have enough force to break them, especially when I collided with the cauldron. Severe bruising and maybe even some large gashes? Those chains were tight enough there had to be at least major bruising.” I winced as I adjusted how I was seated.

He nodded with a smile. “Correct to an extent, good job wildling.” His wings flared as he adjusted himself, and I wanted to move forward and help him adjust slow enough he wouldn't hurt himself. 

He smiled when I extended my hand to stop him. “Hey im okay, i'm more worried about you right now, I’ve been shot down from the sky with fae bane arrows and survived it. I'll be fine. You however are the one I’m worried about, those chains were tugged back tight enough it had shattered your ribcage and  popped at least one of your lungs. Thankfully the fae healing kicked in for you fast enough to keep you alive.”

I nodded in stunned silence. “Just sore and it hurts to move i. Sone directions, I'm breathing fine now.” 

“Good! Madja, shes our lead healer here, was worried your healing wouldnt work fast enough since you were freshly made.” Azriel told me in a worried tone, but I could feel it in my chest, feel just how worried he was in my heart; could feel his emotions as well as my own.

I tilted my head in confusion and reached for where I felt him in my chest, my brows furrowed and he straightened.

“Are you okay?” He looked anxious like he was about to call for one of the nurses to help me.

“Im fine just confused? You told me all that information in a worried tone but I felt it here,” I motioned to my chest, “Like it was my own emotion.” 

Small gasps echoed across the room and the small nurses fled. Azriel rose from his bed slowly and came to sit at the edge of mine. 

“You feel it too then.” He spoke softly to me like he was calming a storm. “I wasnt going to mention it to you right away, both Nesta and Elain didn’t have the best reactions to suddenly having mates.”  

“Mates?” I tilted my head quizzically at him. “I’ve heard the word, though I’m not a hundred percent sure what that means or what is expected of me.” 

He placed his hand on mine. “Like Feyre and Rhys right?” I nodded. “The Mother, you remember her right? I mentioned she was another one of our ‘gods’ as well.” I nodded again, listening intently. 

“Well,” he hummed trying to consider how to word something.”She blesses some fae with mates, or whats called ‘the mating bond’ its a soulbond between two people normally between two fae. Though admittedly both Rhys and I felt it with you and Feyre while you were still humans.”

I moved to squeeze his hand softly with my own. “So, our souls are intertwined with the others?”

He nodded. “That's one way to put it,while you didnt feel it snap till you were turned most likely, i felt it that day I walked into the kitchen to find you washing the blood off your arms and hands. You were just, how do I put it into words, Ethereally beautiful? Darkly enchanting? I don’t know how to word it but you get the picture. I felt the bond snap in my chest and I almost lost myself to the emotions when you looked up at me the way you did, like a flirtatious taunt.”

A blush crept up his face and I felt it creep up my own. I felt his adoration seep into my own chest again and I looked up at him in pure adoration back. “How do you do that?” 

“Do what?” He smiled.

“Make me feel what you’re feeling?” I furrowed my brows for a second as I tried to send my emotions to him, to show him how I’ve felt about him for a while now without realizing it.

He moved his hand to his own chest, and tears welled in his eyes. “I didn’t even have to explain it to you, see? You’ve already picked it up. All the love you're pushing through to me. Good Job wildling.”

I smiled but then frowned. “I get the physical connection of it now but what is expected of me?”

He smiled and caressed my face gently, thumb running over my cheek bone. “As of right now? Nothing. But if you decide you want to accept it or reject it, then we will have more to discuss.” 

I nodded and went to open my mouth but he interrupted me first. “I don’t want you to make a decision right now. Think on it for awhile, process all the changes to your life first okay wildling?” 

He smiled sadly and I nodded. I could feel his sadness through the bond though I could tell he wasn't trying to make me feel it, I just could, probably easier than most I assumed since every other sense of mine was heightened. A soft knock rasped against the door and my attention shot to it, Azriel called for whoever it was to come in. Rhys had pushed his head in followed by his entire body.

He nodded at the two of us. “I see you’re both doing well, I owe the both of you an explanation and update on everything.”

So we sat, we sat and listened as Rhys gave us the rundown. How and why Feyre was in the spring court, how she was our inside girl, how eventually she would return. Explained to us Cassian was still out, having experienced a higher dose of fae bane than Azriel, but while he was healing slowly he was still healing and would be okay. Then he finally turned his attention solely on me and gave me a rundown on Nesta and Elain’s health. I must have pushed my grief down the bond to Azriel before the tears had even reached my eyes, because he was already comforting me when the dam burst. Rhys stood silent in front of us, before he congratulated us on our bond and offered me any assistance I would need in adjusting or helping my sisters adjust to the massive change in our lives. Eventually he left ,after some small talk with Azriel, to check on Cassian.

Then it was just me and Azriel again, for the next few weeks it stayed just me and Azriel in our small medical room with check ins from Rhys and Madja. We eventually  got the clear and along with that cane the announcement Cassian was awake, we beelined it to his room; he was still on bed rest and would be for the next handful of days as they double checked everything had healed properly and assessed the damage. I was shown to my room right next door to Azriel’s, inside a neatly wrapped box in a blue bow sat on the foot of my bed.

“I asked Rhys to pick it up for me.” He smiled and sent a wave of adoration into my chest.

Opening the box I found a set of folded clothing black pants and a flowy comfy dark blue shirt. I sent a wave of appreciation his way and fingered the silky fabric. “Thank you Az, this is… probably the nicest set of clothing I’ve ever had.”

“Your welcome wildling.” He leaned down to press his forehead to my shoulder. His actions caught me by surprise and nearly had me crying, it was such a pure act of surrender and love; my breath caught in my throat and I had to swallow back sobs as I moved one hand to caress what I could reach for the male.

I had made up my mind then and there what my answer to the bond would be, if anyone could guide me and my ways through the sudden changes it was him. I stepped forward and he furrowed his brows but I turned and planted a kiss on his lips. He let out a mixture of a cry and a whimper when I pulled away, his eyes wide and watery; I turned back towards the clothes, not thinking about the implications as I stripped from my current ones and bandages but was stopped before I could step into the new ones laid out in front of me. 

Azriel’s breath caught in his throat as he ran a light touch across a lingering bruise on my skin, goosebumps shot up my skin in a wave of chills that caused me to flinch and wince. Azriel growled softly at the thought of me in pain, or at least that's the impression I got from his side of the bond. 

He wrapped himself around me, his hands finding purchase on my chest, causing me to swat at him with a light hearted hiss.

He grumbled back at me, rubbing his hand where I had smacked him in mock defeat. “You shouldn’t be so casual about stripping then. Especially  being as hurt as you are, the urge to just protect you and curl up around you is a bit overwhelming right now.”

I rolled my eyes and turned back to my clothes, finally stepping into the new ones. “This is nothing compared to what it used to be like in the barracks.”

“What do you mean?” It was slightly growled out, the tiniest wave of jealousy seeping from his soul to mine. 

Without thinking about what he meant or the new emotions in my chest I responded to him. “There were maybe 10-15 of us in the barracks total, I was the only female. Not necessarily common amongst sellswords, yet I kept up with all of them. You all become close like family; I'm sure you get how that feels, I mean you, Cass, and Rhys are like that. But after a point you all just change infront of each other and no one really looks or cares anymore, it just becomes natural, part of the routine in the morning.” 

I shrugged it off as I shrugged my shirt over my shoulders, still slightly sore when I stretched my arms above my head. Azriel growled but tried to stop himself, an attempt to remember I hadn’t accepted the bond yet so he had no reason to be feeling jealous and territorial. “Ah, I see, I get what you’re saying though I admit I am a bit envious that 10 or 15 males have seen you shirtless before I did.” 

I tried, I really did, to prevent the chuckle that fell from my lips. Azriel growled playfully in response. It was comfortable whatever we had, between all their meetings at the house and the now formed bond between us, I felt safe around him. Behind him neatly hung my cloak and furs, sparkling and pristine as the days I had cured them; yet somehow bigger, I understood with a simple what had happened: they had changed with me.

He caught where my eyes had fallen and smiled at me brightly. “Oh! Rhys said he would bring them to your room, I noticed they were different too. You went into the cauldron small yet ferocious enough you unsettled them, they couldn’t figure out how you were outsmarting them or how you had already killed so many of their comrades. But when you came out, they understood how and why. The cauldron however it forged your body anew, decided that for however ferocious and ambitious you were, you would need a bigger vessel to do it in.” 

I hadn’t realized it yet but I only stood a few inches shorter than Azriel did now, eye level with his chin and throat; when before I was much shorter, level to his chest at most. It was then that I caught my reflection in the mirror, my features had indeed sharpened or elongated in spots and I gave off a predatory air about myself without even trying; Azriel stood behind me as I took the sight in. While I knew he was no high lord, the way in which he carried himself said otherwise, in the mirror, I realized we looked like the Lord of shadow and the beast that lurked just within it. A display I noted, however beautiful it was just between us, would have horrified onlookers if it was meant to intimidate. A thought I found quite pleasing.

He rested his head on my shoulder and I let out a low purr in response to the imagery in the mirror. “So. Let's say if I were to accept this bond.” He perked up. “What would be expected or asked of me? What would the process of accepting it be?” 

His eyes met mine in the mirror, the smallest change in his scent had alerted me to what affect my questions had on him. A small enough change that if my senses hadn’t heightened more than even Azriel or Rhys’s that I wouldn’t have caught it. 

“If you were to accept it,” he crooned, “then my answer would stay the same, I expect nothing of you except to accept my love for you and for you to return it back to me. I have waited centuries to find my mate, and you are so new to the world of the fae I want you to be able to explore it but I also want to be a guiding hand for you to do so. As you know I’m Rhys’s spymaster. I may be gone on missions for up to a week at a time, if you wish I can train you even more and you can eventually join me on them.” His shadows swirled at my feet, I had learned to accept them as an extension of himself from the first time we met, where he went they followed. “Is that acceptable?”

I nodded, a warmth in my chest. “And how would consummating the bond work?” A low purr rumbled from my own chest that ended in his own.

“It's a real simple process, a simple ritual, only differing slightly from the human tradition of marriage. Same significance just without rings.” He placed a kiss on my neck before continuing. “One of us cooks for the other, and presents it to the other to eat. Normally it’s something simple, seeing as the hormones and instincts start to affect us from the first bite we normally can’t scarf a whole meal down. Feyre made Rhys soup. Once the food has been consumed, like I said instincts and hormones take us over, reverting us to nothing more than feral creatures intent on fucking our mates till we collapse. That phase normally takes about a week, then it's a phase of adjusting to life together, heightened emotions, territorial instincts, and being inseparable till the bond calms. That phase however differs between mates.” His eyes bore into me in the mirror, the gold flecks in his hazel eyes sparkled in a feral amusement at my reactions as he spoke.

“So all I’d have to do is cook you something?”I tilted my head giving him more access to my neck as he slowly dragged his lips across the open space, in slow tension filled kisses.

“It depends,” He smirked at me, his canine digging ever so slightly into my skin. “On if you had the intention of accepting the bond or not. You have to make and serve me the food with the intention of accepting the bond.”

I shuddered under him. “I take it Rhys has given you some time off from work, to recover and until Feyre updates us on the situation?” 

“Possibly.” He nipped at my neck trying to elicit the same shudder as earlier. “Why do you ask?”

I wanted to groan at him. “Maybe I was considering consummating it. But since you won’t give me a straight answer we will have to wait and see.” 

I offered him a smirk back only for it to die on my face quickly, between the heat in his eyes and the growl that rose from his chest.

“Wildling.” He warned, “Do not toy with me, if you have the intent to accept the bond, tell me here and now. If you intend to cook for me I will march you straight to the kitchen and barge into Rhys’s office right now to tell him I’ll be taking the week off entirely.” 

I swallowed a shaky breath at the pure power and intimidation he oozed when growling like that, his nose twitched and I assumed he picked up the shift in my scent. “So tell me wildling, do you intend to accept it?” 

I swallowed and nodded. “Yes, I do.” It was shaky and broken up as I tried to regain my composure.

“Good” That same growl again, had my knees weakening. “Then I’ll show you to the kitchen.”

And so he did, he led me through the winding halls of the house till we were in the large kitchen and he dismissed himself quickly with a kiss lingering on my forehead. I shuffled through the cabinets noting ingredients as I went, trying to figure out something I could make. Meat, I knew how to cook different meats, had hunted and cooked several different kinds of it, whatever I made him I decided I wanted to have meat in it. Beef I thought or some chicken, I jumped out of my boots when a bundle wrapped in brown butcher paper appeared on the counter in front of me; the house was sentient Azriel had told me but I didn’t think it meant like this. 

I unwrapped the bundle, white meat and from the looks of it chicken. Easy to cook, easy to pair with any ingredients I found lying around; my attention was drawn towards a fruit bowl, a lemon topping the pile of fruits. How amusing I thought, for the fae to have fruits from the human lands; only when I had pulled a knife from the wooden block and had split the lemon in half did I realize it wasn’t just a lemon, the taste and smell of it were both much sweeter and stronger yet still held a sour note. I found the spice cabinet and went through it, pulling everything I wanted out; a lemon pepper chicken I decided, simple yet enough to keep his energy up.

I had a tendency to keep my guard up unless I was in a place I ultimately felt safe and with Azriel just down the hall I felt safe enough to lose myself in cooking, it was something I had learned I had enjoyed when I was working in the barracks; I’d hunt down whatever tomorrow’s dinner would be then help the chefs prepare it for storage, then take the hides to be cured and turned into blankets for the barracks or depending on the quality of the pelt. Then when I returned to the kitchen the chef would have the night's dinner out and ready to begin preparing. The chef there was an older gentleman with blonde hair that had turned mostly white by the time I met him; he walked me through everything he did, explaining why and answering any questions he had. However, due to my love for the craft I found it easy to lose focus of the world around me and let my guard down; which was fine, until it wasn’t.

I had been so distracted pan searing the chicken that even with my heightened hearing I had not heard Azriel’s approaching footsteps, he leaned against the archway the led into the kitchen from the dining room silently as I hummed and began plating the chicken; I had been cutting  the lemon into a smaller sections to drizzle it over the chicken, knife in hand I turned around to drizzle it on the plate when I heard the smallest of noises from the male. I jumped and spun towards the noise, the knife in my hand thunked into the wall an inch from where Azriel had just been leaning his head as I threw it. 

His eyes widened as he jumped away from the wall. “Mother, save me, efficiently deadly even when off guard.” 

I clasped at my chest as I panted loudly trying to catch my breath after being startled. “Fuck me! Azriel! Warn a lady!” 

He mumbled  “I'm trying.” Before actually apologizing for scaring me. 

He slid his way onto a barstool and I pushed the plate towards him, he looked between the plate and me before he cut a small piece of the chicken off. He stared at the small piece of chicken and then looked back up to me, with a small nod from me he swallowed the small piece and I could see all the emotions cross his face as he began to scarf down the rest of the small piece. His wings flared ever so slightly as he bit into the last piece on his plate and I rounded the small island, pressing myself between his massive wings, a gesture to sooth him as I felt the cooling air he normally gave off grow in temperature and sweat began to form on his brow line. Then he had finally swallowed the last piece and chugged the small glass of water I had set out to accompany his meal, I had ran my hands over his shoulders and wrapped them loosely around his neck; His hand reached up and grabbed mine before he was pulling me off him and spinning around, capturing me in a tight hug as he pressed his lips to mine. With a growl he was pulling me down the maze of halls and then we had finally reached the set of familiar large grand doors with swirls and lines that reminded me of his shadows carved into them, the small royal blue rug he used as a welcome mat slid under our feet as he pulled me into another kiss while pressing me against the door. 

He had managed to pull away enough to fumble with the door knob and finally open the door, his room greeted me with the gorgeous ash colored wooden decor accented in that same blue that matched his siphons. I took a few steps inside, he followed right behind, his shadows closing the door behind us with a click; he wrapped himself around me and his lips found purchase on my neck. I could feel everything coursing through him down the bond, my own emotions, hormones, and instincts beginning to scream louder and louder over any clear thoughts I was having. His scarred hands ,that I had found as a beautiful testament to all he had been through, ran under the soft material of the blue shirt and left goosebumps in its path.  

He slipped the shirt off over my head and spun me to face him as he dropped to his knees, pressing several open mouthed kisses to the spattering of scars that adorned my skin. The last coherent thought I had before I lost myself to the haze of the bond was that one day I would kiss over every scar that littered his own skin like he had done with mine, I’d do it as an act of devotion when he thought he wasn’t deserving of anything good in his life. 

He pushed me towards his bed, bedecked in blue silk sheets, till I finally fell back on it and he was right there at the foot of it slipping my boots off. He threw them somewhere across the room and then turned back to me with lust blown eyes, I ran my hand across his jaw line and leaned down to press a kiss against his lips; he replied with a soft moan and as he pulled away he began slipping the pants down my legs, ripping the only covering left on my body like the feral beast he currently was. His fingertips dug into the skin of my thighs as he held them apart, licking his lips with a smirk as he lapped from me like a stray hound. I can’t remember how long we were there but he repeatedly brought me crashing down over the edge on his tongue and fingers, the haze cleared ever so slightly as he threw me further up his bed and settled himself between my hips; my legs wrapped around his hips as he nipped at my neck and throat, a moan fell from my lips as he came to rest the head of his cock against my opening. 

My mouth fell open as he sheathed himself inside me, capturing my lips in his as the moan I screamed echoed off the walls of his room. My legs tightened around his hips holding him close to me as I adjusted to his size, I wasn’t a lady by any means, I had fooled around with the males in the barracks occasionally when tensions were running high after some stressful patrol or hunt but they were all nothing in comparison to the sheer mix of Azriel’s girth and length. While with my newfound growth spurt the stretch didn’t particularly hurt it was still an adjustment, my mind wandered to those nights my mind had drifted to imagining him between my legs instead of my own hand. Azriel’s name was like a prayer falling from my lips as he slammed himself into me, our moans and pants mixing together as we called out each other's names. We were there, slotted together for what felt like ages until his hips stuttered and his wings flared, finally coming undone inside of me after he had brought me repeatedly to the edge and past it.   

As he finally released inside of me, I felt the bond in our chest sing as it solidified and could then feel every ounce of pleasure he had received, if the growl that escaped his throat was any indication of him being able to feel my own, the pride he sent my way was. He finally pulled himself away from me and moved to stand, placing a kiss to my lips that I returned eagerly as he stepped into the attached bathroom. Exhaustion slowly started to come over me as I awaited the male, he returned to me and I couldn't help myself but to pull him back on top of me with another heated kiss.

He let out a mix of a growl and a laugh. “Look if we keep going down this track the bath I just drew for us will be cold by the time we are actually able to return to it.” 

I sighed and relented, letting him carry me to the bathroom where with his help we both sunk into the warm clear water. He held me against his chest and began to run his fingers through my hair as he hummed a soft melody, I started to drift off with my head on his shoulder and he happily let me. He woke me when the water started to get cold, stepping out before me he wrapped a towel around his waist then helping me out and wrapping my own towel around me. My legs were still semi-shaky so he happily elected to carry me back to the bed, dropping both towels at the foot of the bed; he pulled back the sheets letting me crawl under them he followed behind me, pulling  me to his chest we managed to get a few hours of sleep before he was slotting himself back between my legs and my hands found purchase at the spot where the membrane of his wings met his skin. The moan that left his mouth as he shuddered above me would never leave my thoughts, neither would the sensitivity of his wings.

It took us about two weeks before we were able to leave the confines of his room, finally going back to training was a relief especially after we had moved my belongings into his room earlier that morning. However Azriel was still overly territorial of me so Cassian found himself pouting as he sparred with Rhys. We had kept that routine until Azriel’s territorial behavior had lessened as long as I was within eyesight, Rhys was finally able to teach me how to control my mental shield and prevent daemati attacks. I had become a natural quickly between training with Rhys and sparring with Azriel as he furthered my teachings on fighting, we were in the middle of sparring when Rhys announced the boys would need to fetch Feyre and the friend that was accompanying her out of Spring Court. I had kissed Azriel goodbye and wished him well as he and Cassian took to the sky, I had decided to take the opportunity to fully explore the house; I had either been too entertained in Azriel, injured, or busy to fully explore it earlier.  

I pushed a semi-large door open to be greeted with isles of bookshelves, a hearth that wasn’t lit, a long table with many chairs, and a few small loveseats in front of the hearth with a small coffee table and rug. Inside sat Nesta, who scowled at me, a handful of books whose genre matched what she and Elain enjoyed reading; I had no doubt she was reading them to Elain, Rhys had kept me updated on my sister's conditions. 

“Sister…” A half-hearted acknowledgement as she turned back to the isles picking another book out.

“Nes! You look good! You could eat a bit more but-”I happily circled her taking her in before she cut me off.

“You look like you’ve adjusted to this life well.” It was a bitter acknowledgement that I did indeed look and act better than both her and Elain did right now.

 “Well, Yes I have, Azriel has been a great help with everything-” She started towards the exit and I followed behind her.

“Well, you were always the wild one, I suppose it's fitting for the beast to feel at home amongst them.” I stopped in my tracks and she pushed her way out of the library. 

“Nes..” I reached out for her but the door shut without her even looking back.

I tried to block my emotions from flooding Azriel while he was on the mission, simply sighing and turning back to the shelves around me; I plucked a random book from a shelf and made my way back to Azriel and I’s room, our room. The comforting shadows carved into his door were a happy sight as I oh so elegantly threw myself onto the black loveseat he had moved from my room into here, grabbing a fur blanket I made myself at home on the small couch with my book and some tea graciously provided to me by the house. Maybe once Feyre was back it would knock some sense into Nesta and Elain, I could hope at least.

I felt a calling from the bond an hour later, Azriel had made it back with Cassian, Feyre, and that red-headed male that had stepped towards Elain.  I bounded up the stairs, racing through the halls and then finally slid into the living room. Feyre was wrapped in Rhys’s arms and I threw myself into Azriel’s welcoming him back with a kiss, Feyre whipped her head around to  look at us; Rhys hadn’t told her we had accepted the bond yet, so when she found out she happily congratulated us. I pulled her into a crushing hug, which she tapped out of just as Rhys had called a meeting that had the entire inner circle making their way into the sitting room with us. 

Mor happily smiled and waved at me, she had watched me spar with Az and train with Rhys and when the boys just needed to absolutely deck each other she would lead me up one balcony to where  her and Amren set up a small little tanning spot. Amren, while Azriel had described her as this terrifying creature based on the energy she gave off, had only ever seemed as an equal to me. I had never felt that overwhelming power like the boys had described to me, she gave me a small smile and sat on the other side of me.  While tucked into Azriel’s side with Amren’s foot touching my own in a comfortable silence, Nesta and Elain finally entered the room. It was a long night but eventually after a heated argument between my sisters everyone was dismissed, my sisters being allowed to keep to their own devices. 

Azriel was sparring with Cassian and I had found myself holed up in Amren’s apartment with her doing puzzles when we had gotten an emergency call from Rhys. Amren and I both sped out of her apartment and we were off towards the mountain house, Azriel and Cassian picking us up and bringing us up the stairs to save us some time. We had been informed of the break in to the library, Amren and I were both on edge this understanding between us, when one was on edge then the other was too. Rhysand had asked her to comb through the rest of Velaris that night to see if any other uninvited guests were hidden amongst us, Amren invited me with her and I happily agreed. Azriel covered me with my furs and cloak and kissed my forehead as I set off to join Amren in this makeshift hunt. 

It seemed like a back to back eventful week, I had crawled back into bed beside Azriel extremely late at night or extremely early in the morning depending on how you looked at it and it felt like I had just fallen asleep when Azriel awoke me in an emergency. Azriel had hurriedly told me Adriata was under attack and I slipped into the leathers Azriel had made for me adding my  furs and cloak back onto my shoulder, next thing I know I’m in the bloodied streets of Adriata beside Mor and Feyre, Azriel and Cassian somewhere in the skies with whatever other forces Rhys had scrounge together on such short notice.  I had been pulled into a hallway by someone whose armor I recognized as the enemy held me in a chokehold and I couldn’t get a grip on them due to how they had my arms restrained, an idea graced me as their arm  rubbed against my face in my struggle. I growled before opening my mouth and latching my sharpened teeth into their arm, they screamed and relaxed their grip; it was enough of a give I was able to tear my mouth away from their arm and turn on them before tearing their head from their shoulders, a trick Amren had taught me. I rejoined their side and they both gave me a look that questioned if I was okay without the words leaving their mouth. 

Then we were back home, and I was more than thankful to rinse the blood from my face. Nesta seemed to be coming around slowly as she worked with Amren, Elian was still pale and distant but was slowly coming around with Nuala and Cerridwen. Everything had seemed like it was going okay when Rhys and my sister finally announced the meeting with the rest of the high lords. I stayed beside Azriel the entire time we were there, it had seemed like negotiations were going fairly okay, yes there was people acting suspicious of others but with a war on the horizon who wouldn’t be suspicious of others, until Eris had opened his mouth about what had happened to Mor; she had confided in me what had happened one day when I had seen the scars while we were tanning, Eris’s words had enraged me and Azriel as well. If I hadn’t been enraged I was sure Azriel could have kept his composure if it wasn’t for my added emotions screaming down the bond. 

Azriel reached across the table and had decked Eris, I stood from my own chair when Eris had landed a hit against Azriel’s cheek; a growl had ust echoed from my chest when the fight was called off. That had been the start of the downwards spiral of the first day of the meeting, Tamlin showing up and portraying my sister the way he did was enough for Azriel to defend her and when Azriel was dismissed out of hand it took everything I    had in me to not rip Tamlin’s throat out; thankfully I was still able to threaten to do it. With tensions so high the first day of the meeting was called, the rest of the circle retired to our quarters with Helion in tow.

The second day started out alright, we all thought all tensions or issues had been aired, by the mother were we wrong. Interrupting us in the middle of a thought Nesta had screamed while the hairs on the back of my neck raised and we heard a loud crackle and roar, the color had drained from everyone’s faces as we realized what that had meant, the wall had fallen. 

It had been months of war, fight after fight had everyone exhausted, and we all knew the last leg of the fight was nearing. Elain had been kidnapped by the cauldron, Nesta felt like she was guilty for opening the bridge that had let that happen; Azriel had calmed me while I destroyed the inside of the tent we all stood in at the news she had been taken, had let me get the anger that I failed to protect both of my younger sisters now. Then Feyre was concocting a plan and going into the enemy camp as Ianthe, Feyre was rescuing Elain while also rescuing an additional person with the help of Tamlin and Jurian. It was only after this we had found out Juriuan was a spy and was actually on our side, but they wouldn’t make it out with the naga-hounds on their tails and Azriel had to help rescue them.  I had been panicked enough at the thought of my sisters in danger but from across the hills I watched as a naga-hound had sunk its fangs into Azriel’s wings, the scream that left me was gut wrenching as I felt the pure pain my mate was in. 

Finally everyone was back in the camp, Azriel in the med-tent being cared for by Madja the thought of losing his ability to fly due to permanent damage to his wings looming over both of our heads. I knew how much flying meant to him, but the final day of the fight was upon us and I wasn’t going to let my sisters be on that field without me.  I had come face to face with the weaver while I was out on the field, she had stopped and acknowledged me with a small smirk before she continued on her bloody rampage. Bryaxis and the Carver were there as well, I had crossed paths with them once or twice, and we had covered each other's back, why they had done it? I haven't a clue, but I assumed they recognized the rage beginning to boil under my skin, that had finally started to rear its head as I ripped those that opposed me apart. Whatever it was that lurked under my skin snapped as I heard Nesta scream, my vision blurred and I felt that terrible snap of my bones as I blindly ran towards my sisters. 

It was as my vision cleared that I truly recognized what my gift from the cauldron was, what I had agreed to in the depths of the cauldron when faced with the beast that lurked there. I loomed over the fae scattered about the grounds around me, some shrieked in horror others stood stunned, I felt something thrashing against my mouth and gritted my teeth, biting down i felt the familiar crunch of bones yet it was all so different as a scream erupted and the taste of blood filled my mouth. I had become the same beast I faced inside the cauldron, I felt the energy that thrummed through me as I raced towards where I felt my sisters. As I reached the top of the hill I saw our father there, when had he joined the battle? How long had I been enraged?

Cassian was there too, Nesta covering his body wit her own, and the King had a sickening smirk on his face. My father stood between Nesta and the King, a pit formed in my stomach as read filled me, one paw in front of the other I tried to force my body forward. Before I can blink the King has my father’s head in his grasp, a sickening snap has me charging forward as our father slumps to the floor. A blur of movement, as my vision begins to blur again, then I’m towering over the King. I hear Elain scream as they snap closed around the King and his headless body slumps to the ground beside our fathers, his blood tasted bitter and I feel the crunch of his skull collapsing in on itself within my mouth. I let it fall from my mouth and watch as it awkwardly rolls a few inches from where it had hit the ground. Elain has a bag of medical supplies and moves to stand by Nesta and Elain, our eyes catch on eachother and there's an understanding there, they recognize me.

“Sister…’Elain barely mumbles it. 

I stand in shock before I feel the bones in my body cracking again, exhaustion crashes into me and I’m back in my fae body. I can’t even take a step before I’m collapsing and hearing yet another heartbroken scream from across the field, my vision blurs like that time back in the throne room after the cauldron. 

I hear murmuring when I finally come back too, based on the smell and colors I’m able to figure out I’m in the med tent. Azriel is in the bed to my left, still healing from his wounds the hounds caused. He looks like he's been crying and I try to push myself up to comfort him, all the voices silence all at once; the rest of the circle stands around me and Azriel, Madja helps me sit up and it's only then I realize it's not only me and Azriel there, Cassian is in a cot across from Azriel and Amren in one across from me and Rhys is being looked over while he sits on a stool in the center of the four of us. 

It's Azriel’s voice that finds its way to me first. “Hey Wildling, good to see you awake, take it easy. You overdid it out there, but you still did it, you took the king down. According to Cass, you ripped his head straight off his body. Good job Love.”

It's a bitter smile in his voice. “I remember that, what happened after? It's all a blur.”

 Cassian's astonished laugh is my answer “You ripped his head off, ended the whole thing, then you changed back from whatever that huge creature version of you was and passed out.” 

“It's what I saw when I went under in the cauldron. That beast is my gift, I guess.” I dryly answered back, still sore from the pain in my bones. 

It was then after we had cleared up what had happened with me, with the king did Feyre, Rhys, and Amren tell us what all else happened. Rhys had died, Feyre had felt the bond break and begged the lords to give him his life back. Amren had sacrificed herself for us too, she technically had died, sacrificed the ancient part of herself and was now just a regular high fae. Our father was dead, and the war was over. Life could somewhat return to normal, and I was grateful.

Finally Solstice was rolling around and everyone could breath somewhat normally, Azriel and Cassian had both healed nicely. Azriel and I had grown even closer and stronger, we had thrown around the idea that sometime after the solstice we would do an actual ceremony that mated fae did when they decided to marry. I had been ecstatic, we had cried the night he suggested it and had made love for hours, staying in bed the next day till well after the sun was over the mountain. 

I had managed to get some time to do solstice shopping today since Azriel was out on a mission from Rhys, he said he would be back before dinner tonight. It had felt like I had searched every shop, yet I still couldn't find something for Azriel. Everyone else I had gotten something, even Nesta though I knew it was unlikely she'd be there with her current habits; she had asked to be left alone so I left her alone.

For Mor I had found a pretty red night dress that was incredibly thin and strappy with a slit that easily would’ve reached her navel, for Amren a pair of sapphire earrings with a matching bracelet set, for Cassian a set of training wraps for his hands as he had taken to complaining about the new scars there bugging him, for Rhys a set of small purple cufflinks, Elain a book I had found talking about gardens and plant life throughout the courts, Feyre I had got a set of canvases made from incredibly nice materials and the stuff to make your own p[aint like she had when we were younger, Nesta a collectors set of books she had often read as a child i had to admit I asked Rhysand to get them from the human lands for me, but Azriel? I was clueless. When asked he said he wanted nothing, but by the mother I was going to get him something.  It was only after I turned into another shop that I spied the smallest thing in a glass case out of the corner of my eyes. 

Elain had asked if a tonic for his headaches from Madja would be a good gift, as the male did often battle headaches from his terrible sleep regime. There was one thing he complained about, especially more often now that the colder months were approaching; the scars on his hands would often become sore, sometimes they would become so painful he couldn’t spar or even write. In a small glass case I spied a silk pair of gloves, I knew there was an enchanter in Velaris and was quick to purchase the soft gloves. I wanted to get him soft gloves so they wouldn’t catch on the scars, a bell ringed above me as I pushed the door to the enchanter open. An older male greeted me, and I passed him the gloves explaining what kind of enchantment I wanted to put on them; he nodded knowingly and brought them into the back to get to work, he returned them to me half an hour later folded and wrapped in blue tissue paper. I thanked him cheerily and paid him generously for his work.   

Back at home I sat criss-cross on the floor, wrapping the gifts in shimmery black paper and wrapping them with blue bows. Eventually calling Rhys to hide them away with the rest of the presents like Azriel had told me to do. I decided to take a nap on the couch and Azriel had returned right on cue, well before dinner was to start. We made our way to the townhouse for dinner that was beginning to be decorated for solstice, after everyone had ate and said their goodnights Azriel swept me into the air; a tradition we had started after family dinners was to go on a flight across Velaris, I’d be clutched tight against Azriel’s chest as we soared above the city and finally back to the house on top of the mountain. I had happily curled up on his side that night as the solstice crept closer.

When finally the day of solstice had come around, Azriel had brought me down to the town house, kissed me goodbye, and informed me he would be back before dinner. The other two illyrian males disappeared with him, and I helped my sisters with preparations.  Mor and Feyre disappeared together  for a few hours, it was well after noon when everyone had finally returned from their little snowball fight; Rhys and Cassian were pouting  as they kicked the snow off their boots upon entering the town house. My mate proudly walked in behind them, head held high, very obviously the winner. I pressed a kiss to his lips and congratulated him and in response he deepened it, slipping his tongue into his my mouth for a second before Rhys and Cassian were faking gagging noises. 

Eventually the time for presents rolled around and everyone had started exchanging gifts, then Nesta had showed up in a pretty rough condition. I hugged her and pulled her to sit beside me, pressing the boxes from Elain and I into her hands; tears had welled in her eyes when she saw what I had gotten her but she caught herself before they fell and simply thanked me with a hug. Everyone else exchanged presents, save for a few of us mates, Rhys and Feyre hadnt publicly exchanged gifts and neither had Az and I. We celebrated Feyre’s birthday and then Az and I went out to Elain’s gardens, which had been decorated with strings of faelights. I asked Az if I could give him my gift first, to which he easily agreed and I presented him with the gloves.  He slipped them on over his hands and tears found themselves in his eyes as he thanked me and peppered me with kisses, eventually he composed himself and asked me to close my eyes to which I agreed.

I heard a crunch as he shifted around in his spot, “Alright, open them.” 

Tears filled my eyes at the sight in front of me, Azriel was kneeled in front of me, a ring box presented out to me.

“I know we already discussed this and both agreed to it, but I hadn’t got you a ring to symbolize it yet.Happy Solstice my wildling.” He stood and slipped the ring onto my finger. 

We had returned inside to find everyone else passed out or in their room,we slipped into ours just like everyone else. 

A few months later Feyre was announcing her pregnancy, we had all celebrated together and that night had flipped a switch in Azriel, neither of us had really known the male had a thing for breeding until the thought of us being in Feyre and Rhys’ position had crossed his thoughts, that night was filled with breathy moans and the sound of skin pounding against skin. Yet the simple act was enough to satiate Azriel’s hunger, to satiate us both really. 

Feyre had a difficult pregnancy but pulled through, Nesta sacrificed her powers to save Feyre’s life and before we knew it. Feyre was pregnant with her second and Azriel became hungrier and more feral when he fucked me, claiming his instincts were screaming at him to repeatedly fill me.  

It had all been okay until Nesta and Casssian had their first born, a whole new side to Azriel unlocked. I had never seen Azriel as jealous as he was the day we all sat around the living room, the infant in Nesta’s arms and Cassian leaning over her shoulder to wiggle his finger at the small girl whose wings flapped happily. Nyx was six at the time and had eagerly climbed into my head to hug me, ever the affectionate child unlike his sister who wanted nothing to do with anyone since her birth. Azriel’s eyes caught on me holding and rocking the six year old and I felt the pride roll down the bond from him, I sent him a joyous wave back.

It was only when Cassian and Nesta passed me their daughter did I really feel how jealous Azriel had become of the little families his brothers had crafted. As the small girl placed her tiny hand around my own an dI began to tear up as she smiled happily at me with the biggest grin on her face, I looked over to Az and saw the emotion in his eyes, a mix of lust, jealousy, and pride. I offered the small babe to him and he took her in his massive hands, adorned with the silk gloves I had bought him all those years ago. She wrapped her hand around one of his fingers and he looked up at me with massive puppy dog eyes. 

Azriel’s birthday approached quickly, and I knew above all else there was thing he wanted for his birthday. I had felt it enough through the bond, every time he would see his brothers with their small families a small wave of jealousy and want would be sent through to me. Cassian’s daughter had just started walking, took her first steps today because she had wanted her father and he was just out of her reach on the couch, Azriel had been witness as she threw herself in Cassian’s arms; he had come down to our room that night upset, had cried in my arms how he had wanted what they have. It wasn’t that we were doing anything to prevent a pregnancy but when both of my sisters had conceived they had taken potions to boost their fertility. Which led me to Azriel’s birthday gift and the current appointment I had with Madja. 

With the potion secured the day of his birthday, thanks to Rhys’s wonderful distraction, I was able to wrap it in a small box and hide it within our room. After hiding it I had made it back to the kitchens just as Rhys and Azriel had returned, Azriel pressed a kiss to my lips and Nyx had run in and threw himself onto Az in a bear hug. It was an endearing sight that had me hoping that with the addition of the potion Madja had made me soon enough our own son would be doing that to his father. 

Dinner had gone off without a hitch, Nyx and his 4 year old sister Aurora lit up the table with their argument over whether or not Helion’s pegasi hatched from eggs like birds or were live births like horses. Nyx was getting fed up with Aurora's egg theory since he had asked ‘Grandpa Helion’ himself last time they had gone there, Arora was 2 and he had been 6 so of course he knew what he was talking about. Rhysand was rubbing his temples in agony, apparently the children had been having this argument all day, and wouldn’t let any adult butt in and settle it. 

Eventually all the kids tired themselves out and everyone started toting them to their rooms, Rhys had hugged AZriel wishing him a goodnight, Feyre taking the chance to whisper to me a goodluck with a wink her mate not far behind her with a smirk and a nod in my direction as they headed off for their wing of the manor.  Cassian and Neesta had left almost right after cake due to their daughter completely crashing and passing out at the table in her high chair. 

Azriel smiled and let out a soft sigh. “Thank you for planning this love, it was a nice night.” he placed a kiss to my temple with a small content hum.

“It only gets better from here Az.” I smirked and he wiggled his brows in response.

“Oh yeah?” a smirk flitted onto his features.

“Yep. Still have to give you your present.” I nodded smugly and started pulling him towards our chambers.

He followed , curiosity evident as he tried to repeatedly guess what I had gotten him, guess after guess fell from his lips. Before Madja would give me the potion she had to check and make sure that if I managed to conceive it wouldn’t be a risk to my health since I didn’t have the magical benefit from Nesta’s powers that my sisters did, but thank the cauldron literally,  because when it gave me my gift the growth spurt affected all of my bones including my hips so I was safe to carry his child. We made it into our room, my furs hung up on a coat rack beside the wing-suited coat I had got him last solstice and beside them a end table we used as a catch-all. I had hidden it here in the drawer because we always just threw stuff on top of it and went on collapsing into bed at night after rough missions. 

He furrowed his brow as I pulled the box out and handed it to him, I gestured for him to open the small box  and he stilled when he saw the small vial.

His eyes darted between me and the vial, tears began to well in his eyes. “Is this…”

 He had to bite back a sob so I finished the thought for him. “The fertility boost both my sisters used when they conceived? Yeah it is, I finally got approved by Madja for it.”

He dropped to his knees holding the vial and sobbing. “Thank you, my wildling, thank you.”

I took a few steps towards him prompting him to stand up and pulled him into a deep hug, until he composed himself and stopped crying. 

He handed me and the vial with a pleading look on his face. “Can we use it tonight?” 

I took it from him and popped the cork out of the small bottle, shooting the terrible tasting liquid into my mouth. I wiped my mouth as I smirked back at him. “That's the plan shadowsinger.”

His shadows curled happily around my feet as I pulled him into a deep kiss, slowly coaxing him farther and farther into our room as I managed to strip his clothes from him. Then when we had finally gotten close enough to the bed, I pulled him down on top of me while I nipped at his jawline.  I could feel the effects of  the potion slowly start taking effect, I had been told it would increase the amount of lubricant my body produced as well as a dull throbbing ache within my ovaries and uterus. 

Azriel realized fairly quickly he was the only naked one and ripped my clothes from my body, his head dropped to my core and he buried his tongue inside of, bringing me to orgasm a handful of times. Eventually satisfied with the taste of me on his tongue, he buried himself to the hilt inside of me and I could feel the tip of him kiss my cervix. I screamed his name until my throat was hoarse that night, only soothed when he had spilled a handful of times into me and finally pulled out only to replace my dripping cunt with my mouth instead. 

We slept in the entirety of the next day, either wrapped up in each other as the potion boosted fertility for 48 hours, or sleeping and recovering some energy; though there had been many times we had fallen asleep together with him still buried deep inside of me so as not to waste anything.  I had made a promise with Madja that I'd start checking in with her weekly after the potion was consumed and the effects had come and gone, so if I was to get pregnant from this night, we would catch it as early as possible to start me on the correct vitamins and set up a care plan immediately. 

As I laid there in Azriel’s arms I could only hope that thanks to the potions help his seed would take root and I would be able to grant him this one small thing he so desperately deserved.  His snores lulled me into my own sleep and in my heart were that bond sung and glowed brightly I had a feeling the intended result would in fact take root.

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

WON'T YOU LEND ME YOUR FAITH? | R. ITOSHI

❁ tags ; fem!reader (reader dresses femininely + is referred to as a girl / with she/her pronouns), reader is shorter than rin , strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, getting together, rin is soo teenage boy (and makes some annoying teen-boy comments), slow-burn, making out is as suggestive as this gets, stereotypical shoujo romance, usage of honorifics, coming of age

❁ wc ; 21.4k (insane. most insane thing ive ever seen)

❁ a/n ; i'm genuinely appalled by the length of this fic. how did that happen. what in the world. this fic is truly just. every single shoujou manga trope crammed into one okay. my silly little self indulgent romance !!!!

also this fic is sfw + takes place in their third of hs so im not gonna say mdni that's silly. however if you're a minor please do not follow me i post heinous dark content and this fic is a fluke in the timeline dskffjkfd

❁ synopsis ; the love story of a sensitive, stoic soccer player and an eccentric wannabe journalist

or that time you confess to itoshi rin, knowing he'll reject you, and asking to befriend him in spite of it.

“I like you,” 

A breeze of wind passes.

“What?” 

You confess to Itoshi Rin at the start of the Spring semester. On the school rooftop with your head down. Bent at a near ninety degrees as you hold out what looks like a love letter.

For a minute, he can’t do anything more than stare. He’s received countless confessions in highschool. Half of which he rejected immediately, not even stopping to hear the full extent of their feelings. Why would he? The lukewarm ideas of first love had never been of interest. Even before his fight with Sae, Rin was always focused on his goals. 

After his second year of high school was spent in Bluelock, Rin has only returned for his third. He promised his parents he’d graduate properly, and Bluelock was off-season until Ego could fully prepare for the next stages. 

And a lot has changed since then. But some parts of him, namely his feelings towards the idea of conventional relationships, haven't changed at all. 

It’s only been a little less than three weeks since school had started, and by now he’s received more confessions than he can really remember. All of which he’s rejected coldly, and blankly, because Itoshi Rin has never been in the business of coddling anyone. Most of those girls he’s never even met. Knows nothing about them because they’re first or second years he’d never even spoken to. 

Rin, however, does know you. You’ve been in his class in all 3 years of his highschool, and he’s seen you around more than once. You’re in the newspaper club, which he remembers because you covered their winning match back when Rin was a first year. He wouldn’t call you friends, but you’ve spoken to each other enough that he can remember your name with a little effort. 

He also  remembers you being sort of annoying. You’re one of those loud and earnest types that he can’t stand. 

A year ago, Rin would’ve denied knowing you at all. But now that things with Sae have cleared up just a little - he’s not inclined to take his anger out on you. He knows you. Not well, but enough.

And if his reputation precedes him at all, then you know Rin too. You know that he’s never once gone out with a single girl in his 3 years of highschool and that most of the guys in all three grades consider him an arrogant jerk. You know that he mostly plays soccer alone during breaks and that he only really hangs out with one person. 

Which means you must know that he doesn’t harbor any feelings for you. And that he’s going to reject your confession without thinking twice about it. 

In the first place, he was just curious if you were stupid enough to do it. If you really called him up here for a roof-top confession. The fact that you were is what’s stifling him. Your words are familiar. He’s heard them so many times. But it’s baffling. It’s ridiculous. 

You lift your head to face him. You’re still smiling, though there’s something more there that he can’t understand. He doesn’t do well with people like you begin with. He finds himself backing away when you jog up closer towards him. 

He’s taller than you, he notices. You pick your head up to look at him and smile, toothy and at ease. You hold the letter up again and shove it towards him, though you don’t seem like you’re expecting him to take it. He stares at you. 

“I like you,” You repeat, smooth and bubbly. He frowns. 

“I don’t like you.” 

He has expectations for this part. Normally he receives a saddened look like a dog whose tail he stepped on or a fit of crying (sometimes genuine, sometimes with the intent of guilt.) Sometimes he gets an awkward smile trying to seem unbothered by the whole situation. 

You don’t falter though. You don’t even flinch at the words, cold as ice and steely. It throws him off. 

“I know,” You say back,  prying the letter away from him. You turn the other way, walking towards the metal grates and for a minute Rin wonders if you’re going to do something drastic. You don’t though, instead sticking your the paper in the air “That’s why I have a proposal,” 

He stares, absolutely dumbfounded. You turn again towards him. 

“I want to get to know you. And keep confessing to you,” You say first, and Rin immediately goes to reject you until you put your hands up “And I want you to keep rejecting me.” 

He’s baffled. Really. 

“What?” 

“So I can gradually lose my feelings for you. Nothing that different on your end, honestly..” 

It sounds annoying. It really does. If it were anyone else, under any other circumstance he would scoff and tell them to deal with their own shitty feelings alone just like everyone else. But there’s no hidden intention there. Rin’s always been good at sniffing that out. Your words are pure as can be.

Frustratingly simple and twice as sincere, no matter how confusing the whole thing is. 

“Why should I?” 

“We can be friends,” You reply like it’s the best deal he could ask for. “Isn’t that enough? Not like you really have any right now.” 

He scoffs bitterly albeit he can’t counter you. 

“Friendship is lukewarm. I don’t care about any of that stuff,” 

“Lukewarm? Really? Then..think of it like I’ll be your shield. You hate when people socialize with you right? I’ll help you deal with it.” 

That doesn’t sound too bad actually. On top of that, he’s kind of curious what your deal is. He rolls his eyes at you, turning to face the other way. 

“Do whatever you want. It’s not like it matters.” 

His response makes you beam. He hears you shout from the otherside of the yard, followed by the sound of your footsteps noisily thudding against the concrete as you try to catch up with him. He walks faster than you just to spite you for earlier, but he hears your last words through a huff of breath. 

“Jeez, you’re fast. I’ll see you at lunch, be prepared!” 

Somehow, he feels like he’s crossed paths with something he shouldn’t’ve. 

__

You keep up with your end of the deal with Rin to the best of your ability. 

The upsides of your arrangement is that the usual annoyances Rin has to deal with have decreased significantly in the time you’ve been hanging around him. You’re very good at using your speech to sway conversations one way or the other without upsetting the other party.

Normally, Rin’s rejections for different things leave a bitter taste in the air. He’s never been good at mincing his words for anyone and while it doesn’t affect him - the strange stares and whispers he gets are a little annoying to deal with. People always take his disinterest personally. Rin has always hated that. He was probably a little gentler about the denial before but still. 

While other people are too stupid to pay it any mind, you’re clever at turning the tides your way. You always manage to completely divert their questions without making them feel uncomfortable. Rin has tried, many times, to actually break down how you’re doing it. He doesn’t think he’d ever be able to replicate it, no matter how much he studies you. 

He’s reluctant to admit it, but really, your presence has significantly lowered the number of obstacles in his daily life and made him overall, less irritable. 

Instead of many annoying things, there’s only you. Which is tolerable in comparison. 

You also expect him to uphold his end of the deal. For the most part, this has just meant you inserting yourself into his usual activities. It started out small enough, mostly just you sitting with him during lunch. It draws too much attention to eat in the classroom so you both fuck off to the roof. 

(You often joke about how romantic it is, reminiscing on your rejected first love with as much melodrama as you can muster. 

Rin never laughs about it to your face, but he admits it’s funny. Your stupidity is mildly amusing, at least ) 

There, you eat lunch together. Rin learns you make yourself colorful bentos from time to time- though some days are much less elaborate than others. You like to unwind that way, your designated and nightly me-time. You work part-time, and you take care of your neighbors kids by helping them every morning and night. 

Rin doesn’t ask you for more, not willing to deliberately show interest. 

But you notice his curiosity for better or for worse and explain that she, the woman next door, used to make you dinner back when your parents were too busy. You have an older brother who's nearly twelve years your senior so you were alone for most of your childhood. She had children late, but they feel like your little siblings. So you help them in the mornings and in the evenings when you have time. 

Rin learns you, funnily enough, have a sense of obligation towards other people that he can’t fully comprehend. He forgot there were people like that. In an environment like Bluelock that is so dead set on fostering ego, it’s easy to forget something so simple. 

You haven’t confessed to him again since that time. Not like he’s expecting it, but given your personality he wonders why. He thought it’d be more of a daily occurence, something like a bit you did. But you never do. Even when at times, it’s so heavy in the atmosphere even he can tell you want too. 

Admittedly, Rin wonders a lot more about you than he cares to. He wonders why you spend so much time with him when you have plenty of other friends who seem to cherish you. He wonders why you care so much about the dying club you're in. He wonders if this, in some strange way, stems from some kind of obligation.

He wonders, sometimes, what about him you could even like. It’s probably something stupid. You’d probably think long and hard before going on to say that you like him because he’s handsome or cool. Something shallow and meaningless. 

He tells himself that when he starts thinking about it again. 

__

Rin gets roped into cleaning the classroom with you. 

He’s used to being paired with other people. But he’s never had to do with you before, even in the years prior. Or maybe he did. He doesn’t recall much of his first year. 

Still, now that it’s already mid-May, Rin has never been on cleaning duty with you. He’s conscious of the sound of your name these days. It’s not something he’s happy about. 

It’s a simple affair. Just 15 or 20 minutes. Nothing to talk about. Not really. 

But, today you’re alone with him. Alone in an empty classroom with light pouring through the windows and reflecting off of the wooden desks. You’re busying yourself with wiping down the chalkboard, humming quietly. Rin has the broom and dust pan, slowly working himself towards the front of the room. 

It’s mostly quiet. Just your humming. The soft thud of a dust pan, a gentle brush of the bristle. 

Rin feels a crick in his neck, half-way done with the task at hand. He stares at you, off in the front. In your own little world as you fix everything up diligently without turning your head to look up at him even once. 

The nape of your neck is visible from the way you’re standing. There’s a chain there. Do you wear a necklace under your uniform? He can see the slope of your shoulders. The light reflects on you. 

It stops him dead in his tracks. All he can hear is the quiet. The soft humming of your voice. The thud of the dust pan, the woosh of an eraser. The gentle bristle of a broom. The sound of his own heartbeat, a little louder than it was a minute ago. 

He shakes his head. He goes back to sweeping. 

__

“Why do you look like that?” 

You look depressed. For Rin, this expression on you is unusual. You do look sad sometimes.  Somber, occasionally but the look you have on your face right now is down right harrowing. You’re staring blankly out into the open, sitting in the usual spot the two of you have lunch at. But you’ve hardly touched your food and your favorite juicebox (a lunchtime staple) doesn’t have a straw in it yet. 

It’s freaking him out, quite frankly. He stares at you, waving a hand in front of your face until you click back into reality. You jump in your skin at the sight of him before taking a deep breath once you’ve realized who’s in front of you. 

“Oh. It’s just you. Sorry,” You say, immediately going for your juice. See? “What did you say?” 

He sighs, sitting down next to you with his own lunch. Nothing special, something his mom likes to pack when he’s at home - though he doesn’t often take it. He opens up his own tin, taking chopsticks out attached from the top. 

“I asked why you looked like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like someone just died.” 

You look at him morbidly, clasping your hands and leaning forward with your elbows on your knees. 

“My midterm grades,” You say solemnly, voice wavering ever so slightly “They’re detestable. A shame to my bloodline.” 

Rin looks at you plainly. 

“Aren’t you an idiot to begin with?” 

“Hey! I’ll have you know I’m average. Super average. But I scored even lower than usual and I’m concerned. I need to do well on the next one and on my entrance exams.” 

Oh, right. Rin forgot since he has no plans to take any. 

“Do you know what you want to do for college?” He asks, mostly out of obligation. 

“I want to study journalism.” There’s a wispiness to your way of speaking. It gives the air a sentimental feel. “There’s a private university with a good program I want to get into but they’re kind of tough. So I have to focus and do well,” 

“What subject are you struggling with?” 

You deflate all over again. 

“Chemistry and Classical Japanese,” 

Rin does well in both subjects. He thinks it over, and decides he can consider this payback. That’s all it is. He’s never liked owing people for favors and while you say this much is enough - Rin can rest assured about your little deal if he’s actually been of use to you in return. He remains impassive as he takes a sip of water. 

“Do you want me to help you study?” 

You turn to him immediately, suddenly full of life. He doesn’t like the gleam in your eyes, an immediate regret settling in as he stares at you, eyes full of disdain. You don’t hesitate grabbing his hand, putting it to your forehead and bowing deeply as you face him. You’re like a fly that keeps buzzing around him. 

“Are you serious? Really? Forreal? Do you mean it?” 

“If you keep being  a dipshit I’m going to take it back,” 

You pull away, hands folded in your lap, going stone faced.

“I would be very grateful,” You say, hands clasped in front of your face. He rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” He says bluntly, staring out into space “I just don’t want to owe you any favors.” 

This you laugh at, leaning back on the wall behind you - with your legs stretched out. 

“Don’t worry,” You reply, self-assured. “Somehow, you asking me to study with you so innocently really cements it in that you don’t have a shred of affection for me.” 

Something in him stirs. He ignores it. 

“Never in a million years.” 

You laugh light-heartedly. 

“You’re so cold to me, Itoshi-kun.” 

“You still call me that.” He grimaces. You stare at him confused. 

“How else would I call you?” 

“When you use my last name it reminds me of my brother,” 

“...Are you implying I should use your first name?” 

Oh. Shit. That is what he sort of said, isn’t it? 

“No,” He denies, somehow unable to come up with anything worthwhile “Don’t address me at all.” 

“Eh? But that’s impossible? I can try but,” 

Only an idiot like you would think to actually try. He shakes his head. It’s no good after all. 

“Shut up,” He decides, because there’s not anything else he can think to say “We can study at the library.” 

You’re quick to reject the proposal. 

“We have to pick somewhere else. Like a cafe or something,” You say, not looking at him. You have your phone pulled up now, looking for places nearby. He’s lost again. 

“What? Why? Isn’t it easier if it’s at school?” 

You glance over at him wide-eyed, before suddenly smiling. It’s a knowing smile, almost like you feel sorry for him. He wants to ask why you look like that. It’s weirdly guarded and he hates that from you. He stares at you, trying to will you to explain yourself. You’re good at reading his thoughts, frustratingly enough, so he’s not accustomed to asking. 

Which means your lack of answer is deliberate, and even with the pressure he’s putting on you, you don’t budge.

“Trust me on this one,” You voice light and airy. “It’s better if we find somewhere away from school, too. There’s still some time to look, so no rush.” 

He lets it go because he doesn’t have any other choice. Lunch passes and you talk like everything's normal.

The question lingers in the back of his mind. 

__ 

Rin spends most of his time between classes watching soccer. If he has some free time on his day off, he’ll look for a new movie to watch. There’s a new foreign film coming out from a director who he really likes and he’s just finished watching the trailer.

Thirsty, with nothing to do - he stands to his feet and briefly surveys the classroom. He wants a drink and there’s a vending machine down the hallway with a sports drink that tastes like..something. 

His airpods are close to being dead so there’s no music as he makes his way. He’s not a fan of being forced to listen to the chatter of the general populace so it’s not that hard to ignore.  

It catches his attention when he hears your name in passing before turning the corner of the hall. It stops him dead in his tracks, something tense left in the syllables after . He doesn’t know why he stopped, not exactly. He figured it’d be annoying if his presence caused a ruckus. 

He’s used to people talking about you, though they usually describe you as a busybody. The Senpai who’s everywhere. A hand in every jar, or something like that. But there’s a tone to that, mild amusement - never malice, that Rin is more than accustomed to. 

This is not that, he notices. He leans on the wall and listens. A group of girls. Some of the voices he recognizes. They’re from the third year classroom down the hall. 

“It’s like, I don’t know,”  Eto-san, he thinks. She’s come up to him before, more times than he can really count on one hand. Rin knows the type. Kind but not really. To the point it’s hard for anyone to call her out on it. “It’s weird how much she hangs around him. She’s not a bad girl or anything,” 

The addition makes Rin’s eye twitch. Yeah. He’s very familiar with this type. He keeps listening. Another voice, but he has no idea who this one is. 

“Really? But Senpai is pretty kind to me,” 

“Mm, I guess so. I just wonder if it makes Itoshi-kun uncomfortable, you know? With pushy people like that, it doesn’t matter how blunt you are. I just worry about him a bit.” 

If it wasn’t so annoying to listen in, Rin would laugh. He’s never understood girls. Especially not highschool ones. He doesn’t pay attention to that kind of social hierarchical shit to begin with, only forced to acknowledge it because other people do. None of it matters to him.

He does think back to what you said a week ago, about finding a place away from school to study. It clicks. You probably know they talk about you like this. Or you could surmise this outcome. Rin should expect that level of awareness from you. Sincere. Always attuned to everyone. Of course this is something you know but he doesn’t. 

Why didn’t you tell him? That’s annoying. It’s nothing he couldn’t deal with knowing. He would’ve got it if you explained it earlier. 

“Oh wow, you really care about him Eto-san,” 

There’s a soft chuckle that makes Rin annoyed. Is he supposed to feel grateful? They’ve barely spoken to each other.

“It’s not like that. It must be hard since he missed second year, that’s all.” 

With that, Rin decides to turn the corner. 

He’s a little pleased at the reaction. How everyone goes into complete silence when he arrives. He spares her a glance as he moves towards the vending machines, clicking in the buttons. A generic sports drink comes tumbling out of the bottom, and Rin grabs it with deliberate slowness - drawing out the unease. 

Eto-san gives him a blank stare before suddenly looking cheerful. She seems a little panicked, quickly trying to make conversation with him. The words don’t reach his ears as he stares down at her expressionlessly.

“Are you done?”  He says, ice-cold. She stutters at that. Rin suppresses a smile. 

“Oh, uhm, yeah. Sorry, were you busy?” 

“Yeah,” He says back, completely apathetic. 

He doesn’t plan on saying anymore in the first place. The little victories count. 

It does feel like some kind of magic when he hears your voice from the other end of the hallway. You’re practically shouting it, and following is the sound of the hall monitors telling you off for running as you barrel toward him full speed. He can hear the thud of your sneakers all the way till they skid to a stop. 

You’re out of breath, bent over your knees and messy as you put a hand up. Most times, he would be embarrassed. He’d even tell you off for being such an idiot. Right now, he finds the corners of his lips upturned as he stares at you from where you stand. 

“Oh, hey guys. Sorry, I had some business with this guy. Oh, Fujita-chan, your hair is cute today! I like how it looks up on you,”  You say, to the girl who was calling you kind just a minute ago “I hope he wasn’t too cruel to you. He’s actually afraid of women, it’s a generational curse. Every night he turns into a frog and—” 

You shuffle in front him, arms stretched out like a shield. He sticks his leg out and kicks your shin. You yelp in pain. 

“What the hell are you talking about? Shut up.” 

“Ow, you strong bastard. You’re a soccer player, please be more conscious of your kicks. What if you shattered my shin? I know you’re loaded but it’s the principle of the thing, you know—” 

“Stop talking or I’ll kick you a second time.” 

You go silent immediately. 

“Forgive me, Itoshi-sama. I’ve strayed from the path of righteousness. Alas, the people need you.” You say, turning around. 

“Speak clearly.” 

“Homeroom teacher wanted to double check with you about after graduation plans and told me to go get you.” 

“Why you?”

“I was already walking around for the newspaper club.” 

He nods, not needing any more explanation. 

“H-hey, aren’t you acting too friendly with him?” 

So she decided to speak. This makes you falter, just a little, and Rin detests the look of self-satisfaction on her face. He speaks this time. It’s not like he can’t fight any of his own battles. 

“It’s fine,” He says, not bothering to think about it. He looks at you, as you stare back at him where he stands, wide-eyed. Idiot. “I don’t mind.”

You grin at him. Big and rounded and stupid, with all of your teeth like you’re giddy. If the hallway monitor wasn’t up your ass, he figures you’d be skipping about now. You usher him into the hall, back where he came from, waving them off.

“Be seeing you guys, then! Bye!” 

And you’re off. It’s quiet until you’re both completely out of ear-shot. Before he can go any further you stand in front of him, hands behind your back with a dumb look on your face. He already knows what you’re going to say. 

“Hey. I really like you a lot. Just now… my heart was fluttering. I thought I was hallucinating,” 

“You’re a moron,” 

“Ahhh, what should I do? I’m all hot under the collar. Is this what it’s like being a maiden in love? It’s great.” 

“How can you say that knowing I’ve already rejected you?” 

“It’s because you’ve rejected me, I can say that.” 

And Rin doesn't really get it. He’s not sure he ever will. 

But you seem happy enough. He decides against prying. 

__

Somehow, you’ve ended up at Rin’s house. 

He doesn’t know how it happened. Really. 

He mentioned to his mother off-handedly that he needed to help someone study. He should’ve lied about it then, but coming off of running drills makes him pretty stupid. He uses most of his brain power when he trains. So in an altered state of mind due to dehydration, hunger and general exhaustion - he answered  honestly instead of lying. 

You’re helping someone study? Yes, they’re from my class. 

Is it a boy or a girl? A girl. We’re friends. 

You can’t study at the library? She doesn’t want to, so we’re trying to find somewhere else. 

Why not invite her here, if her parents are okay with it? Her parent’s don’t really pay enough attention to be bothered. 

Wait, what is he saying? 

Rin doesn’t know how it happened. Really. Really. He tried pretty hard to reject his mothers advances about the situation but he’s never been one to upset her. The whole thing with Sae really tore her up so they both had a silent agreement to try and get along at home. And since Rin is still living at home for now, he tries harder to listen to her. Even so, he wasn’t planning on yielding for this one. 

Rin is not immune to his mothers guilt. A long lecture about how her only sons never cared about anything but soccer and how she’s worried she’s never going to have grandchildren later, he finally gave in and gave you a call at his dinner table. 

He was hoping you would come through and reject the offer. Say something stupid about how that’s dangerous territory for a young girl in love and let his mom down gently. He forgot about your whole thing about responsibility and being a nice girl who gets along well with adults. 

And now, the door is ringing and Rin knows he’s going to open it to you. He mostly blames himself for not thinking ahead.

Rin opens the door on a Saturday afternoon and the first thing he thinks is that you’re not wearing your uniform. 

You look…different. It’s weird. Your hair is styled in an unusual way, tied with something like ribbon. You’re wearing something flowy and loose but the neck is a little rounder than usual. There’s a necklace there, a heart-pendant with a chain. You have in...earrings. 

Rin thinks vaguely that you look…something. He doesn’t know. But in his vision you’re like a troublesome and amorphous blob that yammers on about nothing. And right now you look…not like that. 

“You’re dressed up.” Are the first words to come out of his mouth. You blink at him owlishly.

“Oh. Yeah. I wanted to make a good impression on your mom so I tried not to look sloppy.” You say sheepishly. He leans against the doorframe. 

“She doesn’t care about stuff like that.” 

“Well I do, okay? Now, can I come in?” 

“The white slippers are for you.”

He steps aside and lets you in. You have perfect manners. He probably should’ve expected that. You take your shoes off neatly and place them on the rack the same way, slipping your feet into the slippers provided. Rin just watches, eyes tracing the curve of your neck. 

“Where’s your mom?” You ask.

“In the kitchen making dinner. You’re staying for dinner right?” 

You blink at him, surprised. 

“I mean it’s not like I can’t.” 

“She’d be upset if you didn’t.” He says noncommittally before walking you down to the kitchen. 

His mother is right where he expects. He stands in the corner as you shuffle in watching on. She turns around to look at you, wiping her hands on her apron. 

“Oh, my, you must be Rin’s friend? Such a lovely girl. Welcome! Welcome.” 

To this, you bow your head as deep as it can go. The air around you feels serious. Rin scoffs internally. There’s a strange feeling in his chest that he can’t describe, seeing you bowing in front of his mom. An itch he can’t reach, locked tight around his ribs. 

You give his mother your name first and she smiles like she’s absolutely delighted just hearing it. 

“Thank you for having me. I brought some fruit with me as a gift, I hope that’s alright.” 

His mom shoots him a look that Rin deflects by turning away, opening the plastic bag you’ve handed to her. 

“Oh my! Aren’t these expensive fruits? Please thank your parents for me!” 

“Oh no, don’t worry about that. I work part-time, so I paid for them myself. It was the least I could do. I’m grateful for the tutoring.” 

You tense up, realizing that might’ve been an awkward thing to say. It isn’t. Even if it was, Rin’s mother has always been soft-hearted. His dad tells him they’re a lot alike but Rin doesn’t see it. Whatever it may be, Rin’s mom is too doting and too sociable to let you feel bad. Right now she seems emotional, an expression between empathy and pride. She reaches for you like it’s the most natural thing in the world, patting your head gently.

“How diligent. Thank you, then, for the fruit.” 

Rin can’t see your face but it’s easy to picture. 

“Of course. And pardon the intrusion! And uhm, thank you for having me for dinner.” 

Clumsy. Rin thinks you’re clumsy. A flickering light. His mom laughs brightly and tells you not to worry. She leans in closer like she’s whispering but Rin can hear her loud and clear. 

“Rin can be very brash but he’s a good boy, so thank you for being kind to him.” 

He feels embarrassed. Even readies himself to intervene. 

“He is very kind to me.” 

Wait. What?

His mom smiles even brighter, and mouths something like ‘take care of her’ when you’re not looking. He wants to stop it before it starts. You’re not dating. You’re hardly even friends, you’re just here to study. Rin almost wants to shout it, but he’s stuck. Before he can do any of that, you’re turning around and smiling like you haven’t said anything strange. 

What do you mean he’s kind to you? When his whole thing is rejecting you mercilessly? Being cruel?

What kind of person would ever describe him as kind? 

He can’t find the words he wants to say, so he takes you to his room in silence. 

__

You both make it to Rin’s room in one piece.

You’ve been studying now for about an hour. Given your personality, Rin was expecting more of a fuss. He thought you’d make some comment about being in a boys room and then fight off the actual studying like the plague. 

Much to his surprise, you started studying with him right away. Rin tries his best to tutor you, though he does make fun of you in the process. But you’re a try-hard all the same, stopping only to ask questions and get clarification occasionally.

You’ve been focused that whole time, miraculously enough. Rin studies too, but only a bit, after deciding to study some recent matches instead. 

( Every now and again, he’ll glance at you. Just to see if you’re stuck or still working. Each time, he gets caught up on the fact you’re not in your uniform and has to tear his eyes away. ) 

After a bout of silence, you yawn out loud, quietly shutting your workbook. 

“I’ve finished all my practice problems for today,” You announce, before deciding to lay down on his floor “I’m beat.” 

“I thought you were gonna give up before you started.”  Rin admits. You frown at him. 

“I was serious about needing tutoring. Thanks for all your help.” 

“I already told you it’s fine. Is there anything else? Finals are next week.” 

You shake your head. 

“Mm, I don’t think so. One of the guys from the newspaper club helped me with math so I’ll be okay.” 

…Huh? 

“From the newspaper club?” 

“Huh? Yeah. Murata-senpai. We’re in the same year. He’s a few months older so he insists on making me call him Senpai.” 

“And he helped you with math?” 

“Yeah. He was a delinquent like, all of first year but he really cleaned up his act. He’s actually really gentle.”

Rin frowns at that. 

“Do people usually describe delinquents as gentle?”  

You make a noise of indignance from where you’re laid on his floor. 

“Hey. Murata-senpai is really nice, okay? And he is gentle, so I won’t tolerate your usual judginess.” 

Rin rolls his eyes. 

“How’d you even meet him?” 

“Uh…I wanted to write a column about him, basically. He was helping in the garden last year and I kinda…stalked him. It sounds worse than it is. I just wanted to know what made him change.” 

“So stalking people is pretty typical for you.” 

You sit up and gape at him. Rin suppresses a laugh. 

“Anyways. I eventually flagged him down for an interview. Apparently, he had a real scare with his granny getting sick and decided he needed to cut the shit. He’s a good guy. He joined the newspaper club after the interview,” 

“After the interview…?” 

You nod, leaning forward with your elbows on the table in front of you. 

“Uh-huh. Said he was interested because of my passion or something. He’s been really nice to me ever since and helps me with all of the ideas I have.” You soften as you talk about it. Rin feels an ugly emotion in his chest “I’m worried about what will happen to the club after graduation, but Senpai is always encouraging me to make the most out of the time we still have. So I’m really thankful for him. That’s why you have to be nice.” 

Rin is super annoyed. He doesn’t know why he’s so annoyed but he is. How do you not realize this guy likes you? He doesn’t know why he’s opening his mouth to tell you what’s so obvious. It’s not like it really matters. Rin doesn’t like you in the first place, so if he informs you that your beloved Murata-senpai has feelings for you - it’s no big deal. 

In fact it might be better for everyone if you realize. He’s just frustrated by how clueless you can be sometimes. 

“He’s interested in you,” Rin says, against his better judgment. It feels like the words are welling up in his throat “Your senpai or whatever.” 

You blink at him stupidly. He wonders if you’re wearing mascara. 

“Huh? I doubt that somehow. Senpai is kind to me but I think he sees me like a little sister.” 

He scoffs at you. 

“You would think that. Most guys aren’t just nice to girls they don’t like.” 

“Not everyone is like you, yanno.” You say back without thinking twice. That’s not the point this time, he wants to say. And he’s right for this one. Anyone else with half of a brain would realize. You’re just… you. Which means you’re absolutely unaware of things pertaining to you. It’s the only reason he can think you’d deny something so obvious. 

The only reason you could come to the house of a boy you liked just to study. 

“Shut up. I’m saying this because you’re too much of a dumbass to put it together on your own. The guy definitely likes you.” 

“I didn’t know you were a love guru,” You say sarcastically, sticking your tongue out at him. Childish. Annoying “It doesn’t matter if he does.” 

“Why wouldn’t it matter?” 

You give him an incredulous look. 

“Unfortunately my heart is captured by an aloof sportsman.” 

He doesn’t know why he feels relieved when you say that. He feels his heart all the way in his throat like he’s going to throw it up, even though his expression remains impassive. 

“You already know I don’t like you, though. It’s a good opportunity, isn’t it? Don’t a lot of people move on that way.”

You shake your head. 

“I’m not that sort of wishy-washy woman.” You reply, huffing your chest up and trying to ease the tension. You stop to shake your head, a small smile on your face. “You wouldn’t get it even if I explained.” 

“It’s annoying when you do that,” Rin voices, not bothering to cut it any other way “You did that with the girls at school too. I’m never gonna get it if you don’t bother explaining it to me.” 

You soften at this, then whisper. 

“...Why do you care?” But it’s not said with any malice. It’s not said sadly either. Just curious. He freezes, but doesn’t let it show. He wants to ask himself the same question. 

“I don’t. It’s just,” And he scoffs, not looking at your face “It’s a pain.” 

You hum, not expecting more of an answer. 

“I want to treasure my own feelings towards you,” You say, and something in Rin feels like it’s being set on fire. “It’s not just about having a boyfriend. If it was, then I’d consider Senpai's feelings.” 

“...So it’s about me, specifically?” 

“Yeah,” You say without offering any more explanation than that “It is. I like you.”

The words but why, linger in the air. You seem to be feeling merciful, as you lean back on your palms and stare up at his ceiling. You wear your heart outside of your body, more often than not. And he thinks that part of you is so hard to get used to. 

“You’re really awkward. And aloof. And you don’t have any friends.” 

“Is this some kind of revenge or…?” 

“But. You’re also sensitive. The more I know you, the more I think you’re kind and well-meaning. You uh, remind me of a cat.” 

He blinks. 

“A cat?” 

“A cat. Sometimes they want their own space. And sometimes they knock your water off your desk for fun. Plus they only really care about people in their own circle,”

“Again, is this—” 

“Let me finish, jeez. They’re solitary creatures. But like when they accept you, they get comfortable. An’ nice . And they look out for you in their own way. To me you’re a lot like that.” 

You give him a smile so warm it makes his back hot. So loud and so vibrant like it burst out of him at any minute. 

“I’ve uh, always been interested in you. I watched you play in Bluelock too. I kept thinking to myself, there’s something about you. I want to know more, even if it’s just a little. Stuff like that.” You talk so quietly yet it’s all Rin can hear. All Rin can see in his vision is you. All Rin can think about is you. “I’ve always been interested in other peoples stories.  So I thought, what a waste it would be, to throw away that feeling because of something like love or like. I thought, ‘What's your story, Itoshi Rin?’” 

Rin doesn’t know what to say so he chooses to say nothing. 

“When I confessed, I knew you would never like me. Because that’s just the sort of person everyone says you are. Still, what a waste, right? You miss all the shots you don’t take or whatever. So, I wanted to get to know you. I guess.”  

“I don’t get it. I get what you’re like but it still doesn’t make any sense. There’s nothing special to know, is there?” 

“Feeling that is special, don’t you think? That’s a special reason to me.” 

He doesn’t follow. You laugh lightly. 

“If I never became interested in Murata-senpai’s story, I would’ve never been his friend. If I gave up on trying to know you, just because you didn’t return to my one-sided feelings, then I would’ve never gotten to know you either. Don’t you think that’s a waste?” 

Rin doesn’t know. He’s never really cared about it. He’s rejected so many confessions and never once thought enough about any of them in any depth. That part of you is foreign. He can chalk it up to a difference in character. He can’t understand wanting to know someone just because. 

(Or maybe he can. He just hasn’t until now. Until this very moment, suspended in time. Where he wants to know what things make you the way you are.) 

Some small, dark part of him wants to ask why. Over and over until his throat feels raw - long enough to understand it. Even as he grips onto that desire so tight, with such bruising force, the words sit in his mouth. They taste like iron. They taste like a bitten tongue. If you’ve watched him all this time, then you know. Being chosen. He’s never been confident in that. Rin wants to ask, why him? 

What’s so special? Enough to keep talking to him? Enough to do any of this? Is getting to know people is always this difficult, he wonders. Does it always feel uncomfortable to be in proximity with someone? 

In the end, he can’t bring himself to ask. He can’t even bear to examine it in himself, the sense of dread washing over him like sickness. He’s nauseous. And this time, there’s a residue of tension he’s finding increasingly difficult to ignore. 

You come through again. He wonders if you can read his mind just like you do with all the nobodies at school. 

“Rin-kun,” You say, your voice like the summer heat. “Getting to know you makes me feel like my feelings aren’t a waste. I’m happy getting to know you. I want to treasure that.” 

What happens when you run out of things to know? The question is too heavy. He settles on a different one. He wants to understand it more. Just to put himself at ease. 

“Isn’t being in the same room with someone who rejected you uncomfortable?” 

“Maybe. But there’s a clear line for me and you, so it’s cool. In like, ten years, maybe someone will interview me about you. As your classmate and stuff. And I’ll go - ‘He’s actually a really nice guy. I actually had a crush on him.’ If I can say that, without being regretful, then that’ll be enough for me.” 

“That’ll be enough for you? Really?” 

“Really.” 

“You’re so weird.” He says, unsure of what else he could possibly say. You giggle, and lay back down on his floor. 

“I knew you’d say that.” 

__ 

Summer comes. 

It doesn’t occur to Rin how often he sees you in school until it all comes to  a halt. He has your number, and you text him often - about unimportant and trivial shit that you think of. In that way, it doesn’t even really feel like you’ve separated. 

But the sudden absence of your chattering in his life makes everything feel especially quiet. Summer is a boring time for Rin. It’s mostly the same. Practicing and playing and studying. On the few occasions he’s been out, it’s because some of the other Bluelock members are gathering and refuse to let him know even a breath of peace.

He’s seen Sae now, though they never really talk about anything. Sort of just look at each other and exchange enough words that their mom doesn’t cry before going back to their room. Sae will be gone before school starts back up again, so Rin isn’t all that worried about it. 

It occurs to Rin for the first time that this summer will be the last of his highschool days. He’s never been sentimental about stuff like that - so he figures you’re to blame for these sudden thoughts. 

Your summer has been a lot busier than his. He should probably expect this from you by now, but your surprisingly youthful social life always shocks him. You’ve been working part-time as usual. In that time though, you’ve also been to the beach and been on an overnight trip to Osaka with your newspaper club. 

(Rin wasn’t happy to hear about this. He was relieved to know it was with a teacher and that you roomed with a girl. But still, not exactly his favorite of anecdotes for the summer.) 

You’ve invited Rin more than once to come hang out with you, but he’s basically always declined. The group setting is troublesome, but being alone with you feels even worse somehow. It wouldn’t be a date, obviously, but it would be something. Something deliberate. 

Rin doesn’t know if he can come see you in good faith for such a reason. 

It’s another day spent doing his usual. Being technical, it’s a rest day, which means he’s only allowed to stretch. He has done his basics. Studied, messed around with his ball, responded to a barrage of texts from Bachira and Isagi. He played games for a while, checking out a new horror game before deciding it’d be best not to get too sucked in so he has something to play next time. 

After all that, during a mid-August day while Rin sits on his couch and watches T.V., he receives a facetime call from you for the very first time. At first, he just lets it ring. But when it keeps ringing - he figures your persistence is going to continue unless he replies. 

He looks around. No one's home, so he doesn’t need to go to his room. He swipes, and the call connects. The screen shows him, propped up against something with a full shot of your room. You’re turned away from the camera. Rin just stares. 

“Oh, shit - did you actually pick up?” 

“Should I hang up.” 

“No! No, I just wasn’t expecting you. Don’t hang up. I need a guy's opinion.” 

“What? What for?” 

“I got in a fight with my brother about a dress I bought,” You say, exasperated, and Rin is surprised because you hardly see him. “I know he’s probably looking out for me but I don’t think we talk enough for him to be telling me how to dress.” 

“He’s older than you, right? Maybe you should listen to him.” 

“You’re the last person I want to hear that from. Either way, I’m not a kid. I’m already 18 and I’m going to college. It’s a cute dress! I feel like it’s fine.”

“So..why’d you call me again?” 

“I’m gonna try it on and show you. Murata-senpai is busy.” 

“You shouldn’t do that to a guy who likes you.” Rin deadpans. You laugh.

“Shut up. I really need an opinion. I wanted to wear it to go out today so if it’s actually too provocative then I have to change my outfit.” 

“Where are you even going?” 

“My friend needs to get a concealer, so probably the mall or something. After that I’ll go buy some stationary.” 

“Alone? What about your friend?” 

“She’s gonna go see her boyfriend.” 

“Why can’t you just go with them? Or ask them to go with you” 

“And third wheel? I’m good. I just need some stationary and then I’ll be home. Easy peasy. Anyway, what’s with the interrogation?” 

“It’s not interrogation.” He insists. You’re offscreen so Rin can’t see you, but he can hear the sound of a zipper echo in the speakers. He’s also sure you’re rolling your eyes. 

When you come on camera, the dress of the hour is on display. Rin’s first thought is to tell you to take it off. It is too provocative to him. The front is fine as is, but it’s nearly backless and it’s cut too high on your thighs. He’s never seen so much of your skin. Maybe that’s a given, since he didn’t go to the beach with you either. 

You give him a quick spin, before patting the front down. You say something, but the words don’t register. It feels like his brain is full of cotton or something. 

“So? Too much? I mean it’s backless but like. I don’t know, it’s kind of loose? And the sleeves are long. Neckline isn’t that bad, either.” 

Rin just says what he thinks “You shouldn’t go out alone wearing it.” 

You frown at him. 

“That’s not helpful, Rin-kun.” 

“It’s…fine. What time does your friend have to go?” 

“Probably right after we’re done.” 

He sighs. 

“Tell her to go with her boyfriend early. I’ll come with you to get your stationary.” 

“Wait, what? Did I hear that right? You’re coming to get me? After I’ve been hounding you to hang out? What’s with the change of heart?” 

“I don’t have anything to do since it’s a rest day. You need stuff and I don’t think you should be out alone. Don’t read into it.” 

“Kinda hard not too but I’m not gonna complain. Are you coming right now?” 

“Yeah. Send me your address.” 

__ 

Rin has no idea what impulse has brought him here. 

That’s not entirely true. What brought him to your apartment towards the end of summer is impulse. He acted on nothing but impulse.

Rin, for better or for worse, finds that you’re clueless about yourself. The fact you were going to call Murata-senpai is already bothering him enough. That, along with the fact you wore the dress and didn’t think it was too short is troubling. It’s not that Rin wants to tell you what not to wear. He doesn’t have the right but you did ask. 

Anyway, it’s a lot less agitating if you’re being accompanied while wearing it. Going alone in something like that, even if it’s the middle of summer, would be stupid.  

Rin doesn’t make it a habit of worrying about the outfits of girls he doesn’t know. He does know you though. He thinks you’d be really annoying if something happened and you got upset about it. So, all he’s doing is preventing that outcome. It’s nothing more than that. 

He knocks on your door as he shakes the thoughts out of his head, and he’s greeted by a man in his late twenties. It dawns on Rin that this is your brother. He really didn’t think this through. 

Your brother is an imposing person. He’s a head taller than Rin with a gruff voice and a scar on his cheek. Rin stares at him blankly. 

“Who are you?” 

“Itoshi Rin. I’m here for—” 

“Nii-san, tell Rin-kun to come inside and sit! I’m not done getting ready.” 

Your brother glares at him. 

“Who’s he? Your boyfriend? Is that why—” 

You come stumbling out of your room, half-dressed and Rin immediately averts his eyes. This is the most uncomfortable experience of his life.

“He’s not my boyfriend. He already rejected me, so we’re just friends. Stop fussing and let him in, it’s hot out.” 

“He rejected you?” 

Rin should just leave. 

“I already knew he was going to. Now move,” 

Rin doesn’t enjoy being involved in your sibling quarrel. Suddenly, he feels a twinge of regret about some old Bluelock memories. He understands it now more than ever, gaining a little empathy. 

Your brother moves out of the way. You’re standing in the hall, with a single stocking on and powder on your face he’s pretty sure is meant to be brushed. You grin at him. 

“Sorry! I won’t be long, promise. You got here faster than I thought you would.” 

Rin can feel a pair of eyes in the back of his skull. 

“Uh. Yeah. I took the bus so it was quick.” 

“It might be uncomfortable here. Do you wanna sit in my room instead? It’s colder but it’s kind of a mess—” 

“He can sit here.”  Your brother insists. Rin is never leaving his house again. You frown. 

“Didn’t I already tell you we’re not dating? He’s not even interested in me, it’s not like anything is gonna happen.” 

“It’s the principle of it.”  Yeah. Definitely siblings. 

“Whatever. If you make him uncomfortable, I’m gonna yell at you. Rin-kun, sorry. Do you need anything? Juice? Water?” 

Your hospitality throws him off. You’re different at home. 

“Uh. No. I’m okay.” 

“Okay, then I’ll hurry and get dressed. Nii-san, please be civil.” 

With that, you flounce back up to your room. Your brother is staring hard in Rin’s direction. He’s not intimidated. It’s just… so awkward it’s kind of unbearable for him. What do people usually do in this situation? Rin’s not exactly the sociable type.

“She confessed to you?” 

Rin is startled. 

“Uh. Yeah. In April.” 

“And you’re friends?” 

“She asked to be friends.” 

Your brother looks distressed. 

“I don’t understand that girl at all.” 

Rin doesn't either. 

“What’s she like in school?” 

Rin stares. Oh. He’s that kind of older brother. 

“Uh. Busy. She’s in the newspaper club so she’s always doing something. She has a lot of friends and gets along with our class.” 

“I see…that’s good. I’m always worried about her. Our family has  always been busy and I moved out when I was 18 so… we don’t see much of each other. She doesn’t talk about herself that much either.” 

Rin nods absently. What circle of hell is this? 

“She probably thinks I’m just being overprotective,” Bullseye “But I just worry she grew up too fast.” 

Rin thinks if he were a different kind of guy, now would be the time he gives your older brother an encouraging heart to heart. The script is there. It’s just not how he honestly feels. Rin doesn’t take pleasure in defending you. But it’s hypocritical and a little ridiculous to hear it from him.

Some of it is leftover resentment from Sae. The rest is knowing you.

You did grow up too fast. From what he knows about teenage girls, they’re supposed to be…meaner. More hysterical. More inconsiderate. Less responsible and more in the moment. Messy. All teenagers are, really. 

For all the ways you are clumsy and ridiculous, sometimes Rin thinks you’re too off-puttingly mature. It wouldn’t kill you to be more selfish. To be just a little less self-reliant. It’s not normal is it? To be so grateful for things you’re owed. It bothers him. Always has. 

Rin knows what the script is. But it bothers him. 

“If you know that then you don’t really have any right to intervene,” Rin says bluntly. “Suddenly acting protective and considerate when she grew up on her own  is just going to feel stifling. Aren’t you just trying to make yourself feel better?” 

He looks surprised by his answer. Hurt too. 

“I guess that’s right,” 

He frowns. 

“If you actually care, just be honest. She’s not the type of person to turn someone away on a grudge.” 

Before Rin can feel embarrassed about what he’s said, you come stumbling down the steps all dressed up. Your brother gives you a look. 

“Do you need any money?” 

You look at him confused then shake your head no. 

“Okay. Stay safe and have fun.” 

He turns to leave. You watch him go. Rin puts his hands in his pockets like he’s trying to wipe himself of it. 

“Weird… anyways. Ready to go?” 

“Yeah.” 

__ 

Your outing goes well. 

Outing. Not a date. No matter how many times people mistake you two for being on a date today - it was nothing more than an outing. 

You start with stationary for the upcoming term, then you drag Rin to the mall because you need some more clothes. After that, you go into a bookstore to pick up some manga. Rin has fun there because he gets to pick out some new releases and you bond mutually over your tastes. Rin learns both like thrillers. You spend a lot of time together, reading over his shoulder. 

It’s not a date. But it wasn’t bad. He’s so used to talking to you that the entire situation doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all. You’re funnier than he’s usually willing to give you credit for. Doing all that, plus train rides, makes it so you’re not home until sundown. You, however, refuse to end the night without having some kind of treat. After a lot of begging Rin to cheat on his meal plan, the two of you get ice-cream and you drag Rin to a local playground. Apparently you bring your neighbors' kids here sometimes. 

Now he’s here.  Sitting on swings with ice-cream and it is still not a date. Rin has no opinions on the day but you’re practically bursting at the seams with happiness. The dress you’re wearing is hiking up on your thigh from how you’re sitting. He was right to accompany you, by the way. The amount of creeps he’s had to stare down today alone is outright disgusting. 

Rin takes a spoonful of ice-cream and lets it melt in his mouth. You let your feet hit the mulch beneath you as you lick the ice-cream carefully - trying desperately not to let it spill on your hand. He watches on in amusement. After you finally get a handle on it, you give him a small look. 

“I had fun today,” You say sentimentally. Rin feels his stomach tie in knots “Thank you.”

He frowns. 

“Gross. Stop that.” 

“Aw, c’mon. You’re so edgy. Just admit you had fun! You had a fantastic and whimsical time.” 

He gives you an unimpressed stare. 

“Really? Nothing? You’re not feeling the flames of youthful joy in your loins at all?” 

“Describing it like that is disgusting.” 

“So you admit you know what it is.” 

Rin wants to smile. Fuck, he hates you. 

“...It wasn’t bad.” 

You grin. You’re so annoying.

“Ladies and gents, we got an ‘it wasn’t bad’ from the ever soulless Itoshi Rin!” 

Stupid. So stupid.

“It was more tolerable than hanging out with some of my other dipshit friends.” 

You clasp a hand over your mouth dramatically. 

“Oh…Oh wow… Do you want to try proposing next? The set-up is there. Perfect ambience.” 

His face cracks into a begrudging smile. 

“You’re insufferable.” 

You suddenly go quiet. When Rin looks at you, you’re stunned

“Why’re you being weird?” 

“No, sorry, I was just thinking I really like you,” You say, like it’s the easiest and most natural thing in the world “I’ve never seen you smile before. It’s nice.” 

“...Your ability to say cringy shit like that so easily is astounding to me.” 

“I don’t want to hear this from the guy who unironically uses lukewarm,” You say, biting into your ice-cream cone. Rin blushes. “Besides, nothing wrong with being cringe when you’re in love.” 

“Freak.” 

You give him a thumbs up. 

“One of a kind.” 

There’s a beat of silence. It’s comfortable. Rin eats his too, probably a little slower than he has to. Summer feels heavy in the air. 

“You weren’t always like..an edgelord, right?” 

Rin stares at you, perplexed by how sudden the question is. 

“Where’d you hear that from?” 

“Your mom after dinner. You already went upstairs. Said you had a nasty fight with your brother.” 

He doesn’t say anything, posture stiffening at the mention of Sae. 

“It’s not your business.” 

“Hey. No need for the attitude. I’m curious as your number one fan.” You say, trying to back off as much as possible. Like he’s some kind of feral cat you’re trying to calm. “Don’t be mad, okay? You don’t have to talk about it.” 

You try your best to be soothing and Rin softens 

He is angry. Not at you. Not really.  The mention of Sae just does that to him. And if anyone else even thought to bring it up - he’d probably tell them to go fuck themselves with nothing but bitter hatred. 

With you, there’s not any of that. There’s a lingering sense of hesitance - an internal conflict, but not anger. Rin’s never enjoyed opening his heart to anyone. 

Even so, he feels compelled to tell you, so he does.

“My brothers a dick,” Resentment seeps into his words “He came back from overseas and then basically insulted me for a minute straight. We were always meant to play soccer together but he went through something. He changed. We never talked about it,” 

“What? He insulted you for no reason? That’s so weird. Did you always have a bad relationship?” 

Rin sits with himself quietly. 

“I don’t know if we have one now. We were close as kids. At least.” 

“And he just… came back and started being an asshole to you? Seriously?” 

Rin nods. There’s not much else to the story. Rin’s tried hard not to think about the situation itself. He only uses the feelings that stayed behind to make him better. To give him a reason to play - it’s motivation and nothing more. If he starts to view it too much like what it is, betrayal, he’s afraid everything inside of him will collapse. 

“There’s probably more to it than that,” You conclude thoughtfully. Rin thinks the same “But still. You’re his baby brother. Even if he’s going through something…” 

Rin scoffs “You sound like you’re worried about him.” It comes out more petulantly than he expects 

“Not really. Not as much as I’m worried about you,” You counter, giving him a small smile. Rin feels his heart leap into his throat “I just figure, you know, maybe thinking about it like that would help. You were close right? Your mom said he used to dote on you,” 

Rin nods. He feels his chest swell and tighten. 

“Then…I bet it sucked. I bet it was hard. Or at least, it must’ve been lonely to go through that,” You say, frown deepening “Such a sudden change would be hard for anyone to deal with, I think. It’s okay if you feel like it’s unfair. His reasons aside.” 

You sigh, suddenly, covering your hands with your face. 

“What?” Rin asks. You shake your head. 

“You poor thing. I wanna hug you to death you know. A good squeeze. I’m trying to refrain.” You say, stomping your feet just slightly. He feels a flush crawl up his neck, turning his head to look away. 

“...It’s not like I’m stopping you.” 

He doesn’t have the courage to look at you. Not as he says it, or after to steal a glance of what face you're making. Instead, he hears the metal of the chain and feels the warmth of your body. It’s a tight hug. You’re standing and he’s sitting, your arms around his neck, his face directly against your chest. He widens his eyes. He wants to yell at you for being a defenseless idiot, but the feeling of being hugged so tightly washes the words away. You’re soft…and warm. He’s never been hugged by someone who isn’t his mom or brother before, and he can’t remember the last time either thing happened to him. You pat his head. 

Do you touch people like this often? So casually? Or is he special because you like him, he wants to ask. He wants to ask but doesn’t want to know the answer, pushing the feeling down as deep as he can make it go. He wraps his arms around you loosely, above your waist trying to be respectful.  

But he leans into the warmth. Like it’s something that happens once in a lifetime. 

“Hey, Rin.”  You say, soft. He can feel the warmth of your breath against his hair. 

“Hn.” 

“I hope you kick your brother's ass in soccer.” 

You sound teary. Weirdly, it makes Rin feel better. 

“Yeah.”

__ 

School starts up again during September. 

The autumn season welcomes warm colors, fallen leaves and the sort of cool weather that puts the summer uniforms back up on the hangers. Rin is listening to music when he spots you waiting for him at the gate, waving your hand at him. He has half a mind to ignore you, you’re so embarrassing. 

But before he can pretend not to see, you’re jogging over to him. He has to stand so you don’t end up bumping into him. You walk like you were born backwards, two left feet with such little awareness of your surroundings it stresses Rin out. 

He gives you a blank stare as you smile, securing your bag to your shoulder. 

“Look what the cat dragged in,” You say warmly. Rin pauses to look at you. You look different somehow. Lately you always do, Rin wonders if you’ve picked up some weird shape-shifting in your time apart “Are you excited for the new semester, hm? Hmm?” 

He keeps walking and you fall in step with him. You try but he’s too fast, so he slows just a little. He clicks his teeth, shaking his head, eyes taking in the view of the building in front him.

“Why would I be excited?” 

You shrug. 

“Because winter break  is close? Because there’s fun leaves outside? Because it’s your birthday in 6 days?”

He stops dead in his tracks. 

“What the hell? Why do you know that?” 

“Your mom told me.” You say, skipping along happily to school like you didn’t just say something insane. His frown deepens. 

“You have my moms number? You talk to my mom?” 

“She loves me,” You say casually, turning only to look at him and stick your tongue out “And she’s nice. Get over it.” 

With this, you rush into the building faster, giggling as you leave. Rin, frustrated, stomps after you. 

__

Your time together at lunch continues into fall. It’s the third day of the term, September 6th and you’re sitting by his side. The two of you eat in casual silence now, falling into a regular routine. There’s something about the whole ordeal that makes Rin feel a little funny. 

Friendship, as it stands, is still a lukewarm idea to him. But sprawled out next to you in a comfortable quiet isn’t the worst thing. The weather is cool enough to be nice and the daylight lasts for just the right amount of time to see sunset when he treks back home from practicing shooting into the net. 

That kind of sentimental viewing of his surroundings is a bad habit he’s picked up from you. He can’t seem to shake it off. He’s tried at least, but Rin has been stopping to look at everything nowadays. The sun, the trees, the cars passing. Everything passes right by his life, slowly. 

Eventually, eventually this whole thing will cease. You’ll never see Rin again and he’ll never see you - and you’ll part your separate ways. Thinking about that feels so stifling. But he figures since that’s the case, there’s probably not any harm in letting the time pass like this. As long as he’s still improving. 

Your voice doesn’t catch him off-guard anymore, no matter how loud it is after a long bout of silence. You stuff something into your mouth, a tomato he thinks. 

“Rin-kun,” You start, tilting your head to one-side “Are you doing anything for your birthday?” 

“No.” He answers immediately because he never does. He hasn’t done much since Sae left home and now that he’s a third year and about to be 18, there’s even less of a desire to pull together a party and celebrate. 

“What? Boo. That’s so lame.” 

“Don’t be so childish.” 

“I’m older than you, you dummy,” You say with such automation that Rin doesn’t even get the chance to process “You’re not even gonna have cake? Nothing?” 

“My mom might but I don’t have any plans.” 

“Your mom is so nice.” 

“Stop.” 

You frown at him but don’t say any more.  You look like you have something on your mind. Probably something stupid, but Rin can’t help but wonder what’s making your brow crease so intensely. 

“What?” He snips. You flick your eyes to him and shake your head. 

“I just think it’s a waste,” You say simply, that tone of fondness seeping into it that Rin can’t get used to. “It’s such a big number, you know? A little cake and some show tunes or something would suffice.” 

Rin scoffs. 

“I don’t care about it. It’s pointless to me. Lukewarm” He says, before noticing your genuine sadness. He sighs a little to himself “Stop looking like a depressed mutt.” 

“I’m not a dog.” 

“I guess dogs are more well-trained.’ 

“Hey. Hey, what the hell do you mean by that?” 

He ignores you. 

“Anyway, stop worrying about it.”

You pout. 

“Easier said than done.”. 

__ 

Rin’s morning routine has been the exact same for two years. 

He starts by opening the window, to let fresh air and sunlight come in through the glass. He feels like his room gets stale overnight and it wakes him up to taste the sun in the back of his mouth. He takes a deep breath of it, clearing out his lungs and blinking his eyes open. 

After that he stretches. He unfurls a Bluelock brand yoga mat onto his carpeted floor and gets to his usual cycle. It’s integral for an athlete to keep their muscles stretched, functioning like a well-oiled machine. He has it down pat. He starts from the bottom up, stretching his legs and working up to his arms and shoulders. His legs always come first since he’s a striker, always focusing on the mobility of his calves and foot before he stretches out his thigh.

His core, then his chest and arms. When he’s done with all that - he practices yoga for fifteen minutes. Again with mobility but this time full body, like making sure each of his limbs work with each other without any stops. He’ll sit back down after those minutes are up to meditate for another fifteen - clear his mind of absolutely anything stuck in it. It’s the most peace he gets on any given day. 

At the end, he sits with his feelings. Carefully, he undoes the wrapped clothed box around his heart and stares at it as it sits in his lap. Beating and raw and melancholy blue  - so full of sadness and anger like it could burst at any minute. Revisiting his sadness and rage is a necessity. Sometimes it feels like only sadness. Only monochrome. 

(He wonders if a day will come where that part of his routine is changed. If ever, he’ll unwrap his own heart only to see it pink or golden yellow or even a softer shade of red. He wonders if the colors ever change, or if time will fade them.) 

All of this happens before he even brushes his teeth. The rest of his morning routine is keeping his room neat. He folds the comforter on his bed, puts any dirty clothes away, and gets dressed. He doesn’t really style his hair - it’s so pin straight after washing he normally just has to brush it to keep it nice. 

After that he has breakfast, and checks through his bag. On days he has school he goes to school and comes back to practice. If he’s home alone - he picks one of many other things to do. He tends to practice closer to evening, taking a shower before he goes to sleep. 

On the morning of Rin’s 18th birthday, he’s only really acutely aware of the date. His morning starts the exact same as it has everyday for nearly two years. Nothing to make him feel particularly different. When he looks in the mirror, he still sees his brother's face and when he looks at his heart it’s still a steely, melancholy blue. 

When he comes down stairs, though - there’s a pair of shoes he doesn’t recognize. And there’s a humming traveling down the hall and always the way up towards him that he knows quite well. 

He thinks, for a minute, he might still be dreaming. Why you would be in his house on a Saturday morning makes absolutely no sense otherwise. 

He slips his feet into his gray slippers and treks into the living room, only to find you in view of the open kitchen. There’s a balloon attached to flowers and a spread of fruits on the table. Orange juice in a cold glass. You with his moms borrowed apron, humming contentedly as you bend over the stove. 

Rin doesn’t know what the feeling is. He doesn’t know if he’s irritated or not. Just that it’s so overwhelming to see you in his kitchen, marching to the beat of your own drum like you always do. 

“What the hell are you doing in my house?” 

You startle when you hear his voice, whipping around to face him. Dramatically putting a hand on your chest - you shoot him an unfriendly glare. 

“Well hello to you too.” 

“Answer my question.” He demands. You click your teeth. 

“Well, obviously I’m making breakfast. We’re celebrating your birthday.” 

“Without telling me.” 

You snap your fingers before giving him finger guns “Precisely. Genius deduction, Itoshi-sama.” 

“What the fuck. Where are my parents.” 

“They’re out on a day-trip! It’s a Saturday. They’ll be back here on Sunday afternoon. Read the note.” 

“What were you gonna do if I had last minute plans?” 

“You don’t though?” You say like knowing that is so obvious. He knows you asked but still “I guess I’d turn around and make my own breakfast. Give you your gift at school or something.” 

“Why are you here?” He asks a little softer this time. With a little more emotion, just a touch. He never expects anyone to make a fuss about his birthday. 

Rin doesn’t really ask for much. Certainly wouldn’t ask for this on his own accord. That’s a vain thing to do, right? 

It occurs to Rin that this is the kind of birthday you do for someone you like. Someone you love. You’re always confessing your feelings to him. You only say it when you’re sure. It wasn’t like Rin didn’t know you had feelings for him, because the point of it all had been for you to try and get rid of them. Or honor them, or deal with them in whatever way you saw fit. Rin had agreed on a whim to help you with that. Your friendship had started with the very notion that you liked Itoshi Rin and he didn’t like you back. It’s not some secret. 

When the light pours in through the windows and hits your back and for the first time - Rin understands what the fuss is about being in love is. He’s sure that this strange, grotesque warmth is the aftermath of being liked. He always thought it’d feel more simple. That he’d remain unmoved in the face of it because he was different.

It’s not like he’s unloved. He’s sure his parents love him. His brother did too. Still does, Rin thinks. 

But it’s the first time someone has made their feelings so clear to him. Someone who isn’t supposed to love or like him. And even Rin, chronically apathetic, can’t bring himself to ignore the weight of knowing that. He stares at you, dumbstruck. 

You’re still turned to him. There’s a cool tumbler of iced-coffee sitting on the counter that you sip, head tilted to one side. 

“Well, I don’t know,” You start, a hand on your hip “It just felt like too much of a waste to do nothing on your birthday. But you’re not the kind of guy who likes big celebrations. So I thought maybe just hanging out would be more your speed.”

Rin swallows. “Seriously?” 

“Seriously.”

“Bold thing to assume.” 

You frown back. 

“Well, I was gonna invite Isagi-kun—“

“Isagi? How do you know Isagi?”

“He saw me leaving your house ‘cause he was gonna visit.  After we talked he followed me on Instagram. Anyway, I was gonna invite him and Bachira and all four of us could go to a movie,” You explain as you sigh and go back to the stove “But he said you’d probably just want to hang out with me.” 

“…And he didn’t say anything else?”

“Well he asked if we were dating so I just told him the truth. Really nice guy, by the way.” 

Rin’s going to hound Isagi next time they practice together. 

“So. Now you’re here… doing what exactly?”

“Making you breakfast. I’ll make you ochazuke for lunch later. Haven’t decided on dinner, I thought I’d ask when you woke up. Your mom said you liked traditional breakfast but I didn’t think I’d be done by the time you woke up so there’s fruit.” 

Sure enough, when Rin walks over to the other side of the table - there’s a half done spread of breakfast on the table. All the dining ware is set up neatly, the table arranged so well he feels guilty for not helping. 

“You didn’t have to do all this for me.” Rin tsks, a frown on his expression as he stands next to you. He watches you pour egg into a square pan, slowly evening out the layers. 

“I wanted to,” You reply, not thinking twice about it. “I enjoy cooking for people. It’s fun. I normally just do it to feed myself, so it’s nice to share.” 

He closes his eyes. 

“Thanks.” 

He’s afraid to look over at you, the excitement radiating off of you. It makes him uncomfortable that something so simple could make you so happy. 

“Can you repeat that?” 

“Don’t start.” 

“Rin-chan,” You coo, immediately making him so embarrassed he wants to hit you “You’re so docile today.” 

“I’m gonna kill you.” He says, hitting your shoulder as light as he can. 

“Woah…how romantic. Dying on the day you were born? Jeez. I’m swooning.” 

He looks at you blankly. 

“Stop being gross. Where did you even get that from?” 

“Too many things to count,” You say with a snap. He shakes his head. 

“Is there anything I can help with?” 

“How diligent. It’s fine! It’s your birthday, right? Sit. Eat some fruit. Pick out what you wanna do. I rented some games and there’s some movies I had in mind too. Make your agenda. “

Rin laughs to himself, lightly. 

“Isn’t that supposed to be your job?” 

“Don’t be stingy! I’m already making breakfast.”

Rin rolls his eyes.

“Yeah. Whatever.” 

__

You end up back in Rin’s room. 

After a healthy discussion about what he would like to do - Rin landed on wanting to do both. He picked out a copy of Resident Evil  to play until after lunch and then decided to binge a bunch of movies after. 

You even agree to accompany him while he practices. There’s 24 hours in a day and the plans are nothing more than vague suggestions - but deep down, it makes Rin kind of…well whatever. It’s not a bad plan. 

Currently, you’re sitting at the foot of Rin’s bed with your hands tight around the controller of his PS4. Rin feels a little bad for you. While you do okay with horror movies, the immersion of horror games seems to frighten you enough that your eyes are glued onto the screen. As such, Rin is trying his best not to startle you as you lean forward every so slightly. The leg of your pants is pushed up just barely. You’re dressed cozy, so it’s funny seeing your head shrink into your hoodie. 

“Why the fuck would you set it hardcore if this BOTH of our first times playing,” You whine, turning yourself into the next room carefully on screen “I’m scared.” 

“You’re such a wuss,” He scoffs, leaning back from where he’s sitting next to you on his bed. “We’re never gonna make any progress like this.” 

You stomp your feet and Rin resists the urge to laugh. 

“Shut up, it’s scary.” 

He nudges your shoulder with his knee. 

“Stop complaining. You got to pick the character and I got to pick the difficulty.” 

“I deserve to lust after Leon after the shit I’m getting put through,”

Rin scoffs at your declaration. The irritation is softened when you walk into the backroom faced with a zombie - a short scream leaving your lips as you mash buttons and use your gun to kill it quickly. You manage to dodge as much damage as you can, obviously trying not to waste limited resources. Even so it takes damn near 7 bullets. Despite your cowardice, you’re pretty good at the game. 

You loot the room for any possible supplies then leave. You turn the corner of the isle, a zombie filled gas station awaiting you. You manage to save bullets and stun the one closest to you before getting your shit completely rocked - quick to duck out. The first cut scene of the game comes next where you meet the other main character Claire. You gasp like you’ve been running, shoving the controller towards Rin. 

“Your turn. Move, I wanna sit on your bed.” 

“Why?” 

“Cause it’s a weekend and I have a right to be lazy. Shoo. On the floor.” 

“You’re getting way too comfortable in my house on my birthday.” 

Rin, does, go sit on the floor where you were. Mostly because it’s a better position to play the game in. At least it has minimal back support. The cut scene plays in the background, nothing difficult as the main characters go to the next area - the police station and the technical start of the game. Rin hasn’t played the remake, but he did longingly watch some playthroughs while he was in Bluelock during its release. 

He had never mentioned it to you, so he was shocked you knew enough about it to bring it over. He likes survival horror and he was always wanting to play it. 

“Me and your mom are best friends so I practically live here anyways. Also shut-up and look.” 

He does shut up, too invested in the story to be annoyed.  The main characters get separated and Leon ends up in the streets. 

For whatever reason, he’s conscious about proximity. Your knee next to his shoulder. You’re close enough to touch him casually and he’s wondering…hoping to know if you’re naive enough to do it without thinking. It feels like a stroke of luck, or maybe a form of mind-reading when you reach for his hair with your fingers. He wonders if you’re doing it on purpose. He thinks he should tell you to stop. 

But when you ask “Is this okay?” 

He can’t find the strength in himself to do it. He focuses on the scene in front of him, weaving through the cars to shake off a horde of zombies. Rin grabs the controls, immediately turning around to try and stun a group of zombies before turning into the gate so he can head to the station.

His heart is racing and his eyes almost feel cross from how much he’s focusing but it’s not exactly the game. The game isn’t even that scary, as much as it’s gory he thinks. 

“I don’t care but,” He says through a breath, trying to sound like he means it and that he’s not so conscious of the way your pinky lingers on his nape “when’d you get so touchy?” 

“I like touching you.” You reply, twirling a strand of hair around your fingers “Your hair is so silky and nice. I felt when I gave you a hug that one time and I kept thinking about it.” 

Rin wants to say “Do you think about me that much?” but the words don’t come out how he wants. 

“Do you touch everyone like this?” 

You’re silent for a minute. It takes patience, effort - not to turn his head to see the look on your face. Though he probably knows it. He thinks he just wants affirmation from you. 

“...No. Not really. I just like you.” 

There’s a beat of silence - a pause designated for his rejection, the promise he made to you so many months ago. He knows what the script is. And he’s said it many times before. Not in a million years, right? 

But he can’t bring himself to say it this time, so he doesn’t.

“Yeah. I know.” 

___

Before Rin knows it, the day is coming to a close. 

The entirety of it you spend together, with you faithfully stuck to him and without Rin feeling entirely suffocated. He isn’t sure why it’s so easy with you. Normally this much socialization would render him exhausted. Irritable at best and angry at worst. But he’s not. In fact even after his entire workout routine, he felt fine listening to you ramble. He didn’t need complete silence, but even when there were lulls and dips - it didn’t feel uncomfortable. 

You didn’t get far in Resident Evil 2. Rin decides to cut it short since it’d definitely take a lot longer than all the time you had and there were movies he wanted to watch. When you whine about not being able to finish - he quietly told  you to just come over next time and play it with him then. 

He waited a year, so he can wait a little longer. Your face lit up idiotically, giddy with delight at the promise of next time. As promised, ochazuke was for lunch and after 30 minutes of digestion - he put it out of his mind as he did his daily drills. You joined him, insisting that you’d be fine doing nothing. Sat on the field with a book the entire time even though it was cold, tossing him his things whenever he took a break - smiling each time he talked to you. 

(“You know you don’t actually need to stay with me the entire day.” He reminds you of this as he brings a bottle of water to lips, sweat dripping down the side of his head even in the cool weather. You turn your head up at him. 

“When else am I gonna get to stick by your side all day? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.” 

“You’re so good at being annoying it’s impressive,” He says, dropping his water bottle back down “Aren’t you bored?” 

“Huh? No way. I have my fun book to keep me company and on top of that I get to see you play in the flesh.” 

Oh, yeah. You mentioned watching him when he was in Bluelock. “Well, it’s not like a match. But I’m not gonna keep asking, so whatever.” 

“Yes, yes - I understand. Now go, shoo.”)

Even though Rin practiced for his usually long amount of hours, you sat with him diligently - even stopping to cheer him on when you needed a break from reading or studying or whatever else you were doing. 

Upon returning, he went to shower and you went to warm up in  the kitchen. After he was redressed and clean, he joined you downstairs to order take-out and have dinner. 

Finally, it’s after dinner and you’ve banished Rin to his room while you set something up downstairs. He’s mostly scrolling twitter, watching soccer highlights from the accounts he follows. He’s just about comfortable when you finally call him back down, which irritates him enough to click his teeth but not enough to bring it up to you. 

After a long day, when Rin finally comes back down stairs, walking down into the hall and back into the living room - he can’t help but be surprised at the change in scenery. All the lights have been turned low, and everything looks different. You’ve taken to decorating a wall of his living room after some rearranging. A white sheet hanging up with something, and a plethora of fairy lights in stripes going down it in a nice pattern. 

There’s a banner and it looks hand-made. It spells out happy birthday, rin in neat, thick blue letters on cut-out white shapes, attached along the back wall. On the table in front, there’s some decoration along with nice paper plates and plastic cutlery and a cake in the middle that’s nicer than he’s expecting. 

You beam at him as he walks in. And you’re stupid enough to be wearing a birthday hat, giving him jazz hands as he enters. 

“Happy birthday!” 

On paper, Rin thinks it’s been something of a boring birthday. He did what he normally would do on a day off but you cooked for him twice. He spent most of it with you, even though it was a lot of nothing. A lot of being together like you were roommates or something. Maybe that's why he’s so reluctant to admit that this is making him feel something. 

That the silly theatrics feel meaningful. It is thoughtful, isn’t it? Rin doesn’t think anyone in his entire life has done anything this thoughtful for him. Birthdays are birthdays, and they’ve never really been especially meaningful. He didn’t see the point in just celebrating the day of someone's birth. Certainly, he doesn’t think he’d have it in himself to do something like this for another person. 

Rin stares at you. Wearing a stupid birthday hat and the most gleeful, idiotic smile he’s ever seen. All of this for a guy who’s rejected you, but you seem to cherish so much anyways. Apathetic and ungraceful as he is and always will be - he’s so overwhelmed he doesn’t know what to do. What a strange, unrecognizable feeling welling up inside of him. And not even one feeling, but so many so tangled with each other - he can’t see anything straight. His eyes aren’t drawn to the candlelight, or the moon, or the cake. 

It’s like a sense of tunnel vision. Where all Rin can really look at is you. It’s happened before. How can anyone be like this, he wonders. Are there people born into the world so unselfishly? And if they are, why would he ever cross paths with them? How could someone so easy to love have any business loving him, in the first place? 

Rin won’t ever understand you. He accepts that. He’ll never be able to understand this kind of person. Someone who shines even brighter than the sun. 

But he’s not so stupid to not understand himself. He’s unable to say the words he’d promised to you all the way in April. Rin doesn’t like to lie. 

He would be lying, that is, if you told him just one more time that you liked him.  He’d be lying if it told you it’ll never happen. He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t like you. And it’s not just because you like him, because that never mattered to him in the first place. 

Some people are made to be adored. Born special and bright like everything should revolve around them. Perhaps that kind of thing is only afforded to people without ego. With heart and character and charisma. 

It doesn’t matter. What a stupid thing to realize on his birthday of all days.

“Rin-kun?” 

He blinks. 

“Where’d you hide all of this?” 

You laugh at him, bubbly and delighted.

“I brought it in a tote and kept it in the kitchen. Mostly stuff from my house, and your mom helped with the cake and stuff. It’s nice right? I did a good job, no?” 

Ah. He’s fucked. 

“It looks okay.” 

You frown, huffing and puffing “Just okay? C’mon, don’t be stingy.” 

“Doesn’t begging for compliments defeat the purpose of them.” 

“Not to me,” 

Your frown deepens and Rin is starting to feel the rose colored glasses set in. 

“It’s nice. It’s good.” 

“So you like it? You’re happy? Delighted, even? Absolutely overjoyed by-” 

“Cut it out or I’m going to send you home.” 

“No,” You whine, tugging on his sleeves like you’re worried he really will “I want cake.” 

“Then let’s cut the cake?”

“We can’t,” You put your arms up in a cross and Rin gives you a look of confusion. “I promised I’d get a good picture of you.” 

“What? Promised who?” 

“Your parents, mostly. But also, you should post on your Instagram a little more, no? You’re basically a famous player already, you should have the courtesy to feed your fans.” 

Before he can do anything to protest, you usher Rin to sit on the other side of the table before you back with his phone. He stares at you but you only look at him expectantly. Still, he unlocks it and hands it to you. He gives you an irritated sigh (though he isn’t really irritated). 

“This is stupid.” 

“It’s a good thing to capture memories, you dummy. Now smile,” You say, holding up the camera after some angling “Or don’t. The people do love a good scowl.” 

That makes him want to smile. He’s awkward in the photos but he does stay still for them, trying his best not to look ridiculous. You take a few, then pause to come up to the table and light the candles in front of him. He hears the camera shutter one more time before you look up at him over the edge. 

“Ready to blow out your candles?” 

“I guess.” 

Before Rin can do anything about it, he listens to you sing happy birthday - poorly with too much enthusiasm. You’re tone deaf and passionate all at the same time - singing each word with a dramatic flair until you’re on the final word. You can’t clap because you’re recording but you do cheer as he burns the candles out. Once it’s over you stop recording, looking down and swiping through the pictures. 

“They turned out good. You should post them.” 

“...You’re done taking them?” 

You tilt your head to one side. 

“Yeah?” 

“We didn’t get any together.” 

Your eyes widen like he said something shocking. 

“...You wanna take them together?” 

He scoffs. 

“We spent the whole day together.” 

You flush, suddenly embarrassed and god. 

“I just wasn’t expecting you to want that. I mean we’re friends but-” 

“Shut up. And come here.” 

So you do, phone still in hand as you mess with your appearance.

“Do you want to take it or do you want me to?” 

“Oh, uh lemme just-” You go through a bunch of filters and find one before handing it to him, a nervous expression “You take it cause your arm is longer and you’re taller.” 

Rin just nods. Takes the phone from you,  and lets you pose a little before he takes the photo. He hands it back to you so you can see, and watches your eyes light up as you stare at it. Stupid. 

“It came out nice.” You say. You save it onto his phone before handing it back to him. “Send it to me later?” 

“Yeah.” 

You give him another grin and Rin takes his phone from you, going through the pictures as he opens up Instagram. He guess it wouldn’t hurt to post. You leave his side, saying something about cutting the cake. But he isn’t looking, really. 

He drafts a post as he waits for you. He likes the picture you took together best and decides to put it second. He never has any idea on how to caption these which is why he doesn’t want to post it in the first place. He glances at you, then sighs internally. 

itoshirin._ posted for the first time in a while.  posted 7 mins ago. liked by isagi_yoichi, bachiraaaaa, and others.  itoshirin._ ; 09.09.2002. thanks for everything, stupid.  isagi_yoichi commented: no way you’re getting a girlfriend before me. life is so unfair and cruel.  isagi_yoichi commented: oh happy birthday btw bachiraaaaa commented: RIN-CHAN !!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶ official_itoshisae: happy birthday.  itoshirinsnumberonefan: WHO IS THAT??  yo_hiori: happy birthday! 

“Rin, I cut the cake!” 

He puts his phone on DND before taking a plate of cake from your hand. 

__

The clock strikes two, and you’re still at Rin’s place. 

After a long binge of horror movies, you’re both comfortably in each other's space - only inches away, talking about nothing. The movie ended a little over half an hour ago.

He’s still doing just that, listening to you chatter away next to his ear. The room is completely dark minus the soft glow of the T.V. which gives just enough light for Rin to gaze at your face. Your eyes are wide and sparkly, still, even though it seems like the tiredness is getting to you too. 

Neither of you wants to stop talking. You’ve started discussing manga - particularly Rin's favorite manga. 

“Ciguatera was interesting,” You say, hugging one of his pillows close to your chest.  “I wasn’t sure what to expect.” 

“I’m shocked you read it. Seriously. I thought you would’ve  forgotten the minute after I told you.” 

“Well, yeah. You recommended it, so obviously I wanted to at least try,” You say with a breathless laugh, turning over to face him. You’re facing each other, he realizes a second too late “You’re such a boy, by the way. Weekly young magazine? Really.” 

“Shut up.” He says, with no real bite to his words “What were you expecting?” 

“Dunno. Didn’t think you were interested in romance of all things. Especially cause Ogino’s kind of a loser.” 

“There was other stuff in it.” He points out. You chuckle. 

“Yeah. Way raunchier and darker than I thought. But it was mostly about romance. So, I was surprised to say the last.” 

“What,” Rin starts, partially offended by the implication “Do you think I'm a soulless machine or something?” 

“Well no,” You frown, shaking your head as you stare at him “But you’ve rejected every confession you’ve ever gotten, even from some of the prettiest girls in our entire grade. So I didn’t think you had any interest in that kinda thing.”

He scoffs.”You’re stupid.” 

“You tell me all the time,” You point your fingers and place them under your chin. “Why did you reject them, by the way? Just trying to focus on soccer?” 

He feels flush, explaining. Turning his gaze to the ceiling, he sighs. 

“None of those people actually had feelings for me. It wasn’t meaningful in any way.” 

“And you want it to be meaningful?” 

“There’s no point being in a relationship with someone I don’t like and barely know. And who doesn’t really care to get to know me. I’m busy enough with soccer, and I don’t have time to entertain lukewarm relationships like that.” 

“What an unexpectedly sentimental reason. How soft of you Rin-kun.” 

“Shut up.” 

There’s a pause of thoughtful silence where you hum and lay flat on your back, reaching your hand up towards the ceilings. Rin can’t do much more than look. 

“You know. How I said I’ve been watching you since you were in Bluelock?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Y’know. I always thought you looked really sad back then. I might’ve been reading too much into it but,” You smile, corners of your lips upturned while you giggle “It’s like…weirdly relieving to see you like this.” 

“Like what?” 

“You’re like…just a boy,” You say wispy and delighted “A normal boy who reads shitty raunchy magazines and thinks about love. It’s comforting somehow. Makes me feel special. I really like you. A little more every day, it feels like.” 

Another beat of silence. He thinks you can sense the hesitance of his rejection. There’s such a tangible shift in the atmosphere. If Rin stretches his hand out to touch it, he thinks he’d push through an impossible barrier and keep falling in it forever. He thinks it would swallow him. 

He isn’t sure what it is. If it’s an act of bravery, or a sudden uptick in adrenaline, or if the exhaustion of a long day is finally starting to hit. Maybe it’s just these feelings that keep overwhelming him that make his body move. Something outside of his mind, nestled in his ribs, that has him inching closer to you. 

He flips until he’s hovering over you. Your eyes widen and you stare at him. He stares back, like he almost can’t believe himself. 

“Rin-kun?” 

And he freezes. The confidence dissipates as soon as he finds it but now he’s above you, on top of you. You’re messy and flush from the day. Your mascara is smudged and your lipgloss is gone - leaving a faint sheen on your mouth that matches your skin. Your hoodie is rumpled around the shoulders - one of the sleeves pulled to your elbows. Rin really gets a look at you. Cognizant of the fact he spent all day with you. That’s why you look worn and sleepy and so unbelievably cute. So cute it annoys him. Irritates him half to death. 

You open your mouth again, only to close it. It almost feels like he can hear your heart. Or maybe it’s his. It’s hard to know the difference. 

“Is this a n-new kind of bullying?” You joke, trying to ease the tension. He frowns at you. 

“Does it seem like I’m joking?” 

Your eyes widen and you turn away. Rin wants to make you look. 

“Well no but…” And you squirm a little “what are you doing?”

He doesn’t know, either. 

“I don’t know.” He admits, and you laugh a little breathless and the tension is so thick Rin can’t swallow around it “I want to kiss you.” He blurts out. Awkward and uncharismatic and clumsy. 

A bout of silence.

“...Am I going insane? Did you just say you want to kiss me?”

“I did.” 

More silence. 

“Why? Wouldn’t that make me your first kiss?” 

“It would.” 

“And isn’t that like… reserved for your special someone?” 

“It is.” 

“Rin-kun,” You breathe out, blinking in disbelief  “Do you even know what you’re saying?” 

“I do.”

You’re a little more serious this time. You put your hand on his shoulder. He feels like the Earth is gonna fall from under his feet. 

“Stop messing with me.” 

“I’m not.” 

You frown. 

“Do you really want to kiss me?” 

“Yeah,” He can’t think “I do.” 

You reach up for him. You’re more experienced with this kind of thing and it shows as you cup the nape of his neck. He doesn’t finch. He doesn’t look away from you either, as your thumb brushes under his eyes - the both of you so wrapped up in each other nothing matters. Rin would stay in this forever, if someone gave him the option.

“W-we have to talk about this afterwards, okay?”

“Okay.” 

“I’m serious, Itoshi Rin. Because you can’t just—” 

Your palm cups his cheek and he rubs against it instinctively. He sees your eyes widen and you swallow - a frown still etched into your features. 

“I know. I’m sorry.” 

Your voice goes as soft as a whisper. 

“You’re so unfair.” 

He almost laughs. 

“Please kiss me.” He asks, so silently it almost goes unheard but he knows you hear it because your lips press into a thin line before you’re pulling Rin down towards you. Your lips are soft. And warm. And they taste faintly like whip-cream and the slight sour of strawberries and your hands are so gentle. Somehow he feels at ease even though he feels like he’s going to implode on himself from nerves. 

Just a little deeper before you pull away and stare at him. Rin looks back, eyes jumping from your lips up to your eyes and back down to your lips. You open your mouth to say something. Mumbling his given name only for him to cut you off with another kiss, a little deeper this time. The way it shuts you up is so cute it almost makes him angry. How it muffles your words, tapers off into a noise of surprise and ends up just back at a kiss. 

He’s never felt like this kind of thing was a viable option. Itoshi Rin is an antisocial, angry, and apathetic soccer protege and he has no time in the world for anything lukewarm. He’s rejected every confession he’s ever received in his life and always thought of relationships as something far off and disconnected to him in his entirety.

Perpetually unloveable but maybe not in such an angsty, vulnerable way. Like a law of the universe. A truth, like thinking of him, means to postulate that he is that way. A prerequisite to understanding him. 

Rin doesn’t like things that are half-ass. Perhaps, part of the reason he likes you so much is because you’ve proved him wrong in such an utterly defeating way. The fact your very existence is by and large, the antithesis of this truth. 

Itoshi Rin is not only loveable, but he is capable of loving. There is evidence of it, right underneath him now - with soft lashes and wet eyes and the brightest smile that could ever exist. 

And it’s haunting for more reasons than one. But he likes how unyielding the revelation is. You’re worried he’ll want to avoid it, and he does. But he doesn’t think he could forever, even if he tried. 

He’s confident if he made the attempt, you’d come barreling towards him once more. With all the confidence in the world. It makes him want to at least try to face it.

Which is why he’s kissing you a second, third, and fourth time. Which is why he’s looking at you in between, wide blue eyes transfixed on every part of your face. He’s trying to face what daunts him most, not like but love and the difference is more important as the days pass. 

You pull away, finally - put a hand on his chest and stare. 

“Rin-kun,” You whisper, uncertain of yourself which he hates. “I like you. I really like you.” And again, a little softer “And I want you to like me too,” Like that had been the biggest secret of all. Something you’d never told anyone, even once. 

Rin can’t imagine it. Have you been holding in something like this all this time? He only realized a couple hours ago and it already feels like he’s going to rip apart at the seams. 

“I do. I do like you.”

“Really? Forreal? Seriously? You’re not pulling my leg? Yanking my chain?” 

He knocks his forehead against yours. 

“Be quiet. How can you be this stupid in the middle of getting confessed to?” 

You pout. Pout at him, all whiny. God. 

“It doesn’t feel real to me.” 

He laughs humorlessly. “It’s all a dream. You’ll forget it all in the morning.” 

“Stop being mean to me.” 

He has to be. If he’s not you’re going to see right through him. 

“No,” He says instead “Stop being so ridiculous first.” 

“An impossible ask to the world's most ridiculous girl.” 

He smiles a little. 

“That’s a good name for you. I’ll change your contact.” 

“Nooo,” You say again, this time pulling him down for a hug. His eyes widened. And he’s unfair? “Be nice to your girlfriend.” 

He doesn’t have anything to say to that. It flusters him too, admittedly. Before he can think of a counter, you yawn big and wide. Rin is still on top of you and neither of you have brushed your teeth. He was planning on putting you up in the guest room, but currently you’re clinging to him half-away. And he has no such plans of telling you to move. 

“I’m so tired.” 

Rin feels like he’s going to pass out, He mumbles. 

“You can sleep.” 

“Want you to sleep too.” 

Rin closes his eyes. He couldn’t refuse even if he wanted to. You’ll have to talk about it in the morning. 

“Okay.” 

__ 

“Rin? Where’s your frie—oh!” 

Rin stirs the minute his mom enters the room. It only takes him a minute to regain consciousness and by the time he’s awake - he’s already regretting not locking his door. 

He continues to pretend to be asleep. He thinks you still are because you’re comfortably slotted in his arms. Rin is so embarrassed he wants to die. He hears his mom gasp, and then quietly shouts for his father to come to his room. 

“What are you—oh.” 

Rin is going to have the worst morning of his life whenever they leave. He remains still. He hears the shutter of a camera and grits his teeth all the way in the back of his jaw. 

“Oh this will make a great wedding photo.” 

His dad laughs a little to himself, ushering his mother out of the room “Don’t get carried away,” 

When the door finally clicks, Rin opens his eyes and lets out a breath of relief. Much to his shock, he also feels you stir. His eyes widen when you turn to him, your face painted in utter mortification before you bury it in your hands. He stares at you as you groan, kicking your feet. 

“Oh god I’m going to cry. How am I going to face her? Oh my god” 

Rin scoffs a little at your dramatics. It calms him down in a strange way “She’s not gonna say anything to you. She’s probably only going to bully me about it.” 

“I’ve forsaken you, mother-in-law” 

Rin nudges your ribs, blush crawling up his face. 

“Shut up.” 

__ 

Up until three weeks ago, Rin didn’t take issue with the way you interacted at school. 

You two have a pretty strict policy about it. Though you’re in the same class and you chat occasionally in the halls - you tend to avoid Rin where you can. Originally, this made sense. For the sake of his comfort and yours, the best choice was sneaking to the roof together to eat where you could remain mostly undisturbed. 

As such, Rin has never been particularly consciousness of your presence in the classroom. For starters, you’re always somewhere. A busybody of the highest pedigree and always running errands - even if Rin were to try to talk to you he can only really find you 20 percent of the time. Secondly, unlike Rin, you have a handful of friends surrounding you. Rin has interacted with them very briefly but you (seemingly for his sake) try not to force him out of his comfort zone too much by making you all sit together. The most Rin has gotten from them is a single knowing smirk or glance. 

And lastly, before three weeks ago, it would’ve been a big problem if people started getting onto either of you about a relationship that didn’t exist. That would've been all around awkward and uncomfortable and maybe would’ve deterred your future endeavors with other guys. 

That was when you and Itoshi Rin were in fact not dating. 

Three weeks into your relationship and nothing much has changed, though nowadays you come over to his house on weekends where you can. You’ve even been on one date after his dad (of all people) hounded him about never taking you on a proper one. 

You text the same as you did before, and you call Rin a little more often. Usually for the purposes of rambling so much you tucker yourself out and fall asleep. 

But at school, Rin only really sees you for the spare minutes of lunch and not much more than that. He’s never really thought about it before. It was never enough of an issue to warrant his intervention. 

It’s not like he cares, okay? 

But he’s more aware of it, now - frustratingly enough. You really don’t see each other often enough in school and you have many more guy friends than he had ever considered before. Every time he catches you and Murata-senpai trekking down the hall he feels his blood pressure rise. 

You and Rin have both decided, though. Despite his posting of you, neither of you have confirmed the relationship. Rin is immune to the prying and you’re good at dodging it altogether. This is the agreement. 

It is therefore very irrational of him to be thinking of speaking up at this current moment in time. 

Despite your mutual decision to keep things as private as possible, Rin has heard nothing but gossip about the situation for weeks. Outside of the usual, direct kind of prying - there’s whispers and stares and all sorts of other things. Rin doesn’t care about it. He’s used to it, it’s part of the gig and the neo-egoist league made him near immune. 

It’s all the things directed at you that make him seethe. Misplaced jealousy and the disappointed remarks of guys in class that make him feel like his blood pressure is rising. The latter is what’s making him most irritated now. How fucking long are these idiots going to talk about this? 

“Dude, you had like three years to confess,” Some idiot, who’s name Rin doesn’t know is still yapping “If she’s actually dating Mr.Popular then it’s on you for fucking yourself over.” 

The other idiot in question groans, and Rin forces his face to remain impassive as he listens. He tries to stop listening. More than once, actually. But they just keep going. 

“I didn’t think he’d actually do it dude. Like there’s no way, right? He rejected every single girl who ever confessed to him. I thought she was safe. And now my highschool love is forever ruined.” 

Like he ever stood a chance. How ridiculous. 

Another one of the goons speaks up “Dunno. Neither of them have said anything right? You miss all of the shots you don’t take.” 

“Are you saying I should just confess to her anyway? She got posted on his Instagram dude.” 

A smirk appears on Extra Three’s face “No confirmation means fair game. Stop being pussy and do it.” 

“You think I stand a chance against that dude?” 

Rin can feel all three pairs' eyes hit him at once. 

“Nah. Not a chance. But you could always wait till she’s all heartbroken and comfort her, right? Hook, line, and sinker.” 

“I hear when girls are heartbroken they’re like way more likely to let you—” 

With that, Rin stands to his feet. He’s seething. It’s ridiculous. It’s stupid. He should definitely just leave to go cool his head but he’s so fucking angry it’s hard to sit still and he has no other way of dealing with his feelings. So he walks towards the table slowly, eyes darkened and just barely holding it in

He knows this is a bad idea. He can feel the whole classroom look at him as he slams his hand down on the desk. But he doesn’t care. He’ll deal with it later. 

“You’d be fucking lucky if my girlfriend ever looked your way.” 

As soon as Rin says it, there's a thud at the door-way of the classroom. When he looks up you’re there with your eyes widened. Rin just looks back, impassive and immune to the sudden uproar of whispers. 

He only clicks his teeth when you grab him by the sleeve of his uniform - cracking a small smile as he hears the faint words “Just give up dude.” as he leaves. 

__ 

Up on the roof top, you’re shaking Rin by the shoulders - visibly distressed. 

“Hey! What the hell was that?” 

“What.” He offers, not willing to budge on the situation. In the first place he’s a little irritated by all of it. And he’s a little irritated by how much you’ve been enforcing the no-talking rule. Right now, it really feels like he can’t take it anymore. 

You frown deeply, distress only growing as the time passes in uncomfortable silence. Rin doesn’t want to be civil about it. About it and about you and about those idiots. 

“We had an agreement!” You say, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, though it’s weak. He stares down at you. 

“So what?” 

“Rin, we talked about this. Don’t be like this.” 

“Like what.” 

“Pissy and weird. You’re being weird and I don’t like it. It’s making me sad.” 

“How am I being—” 

Before Rin can proceed with his sentence, he catches a glimpse of your face in the midst of his tantrum. Sad like a puppy who got its tail stepped on and about ready to cry, he immediately seals his mouth in fear of making it worse. 

“Why are you doing that?” He spits. 

“Doing what?”

“Being all sad and pathetic. Does it really bother you that much if people know we’re dating?” 

“It’s not like that.” You assure. 

“Then what is it?” Rin prods, frustrated but not wanting to make things worse “Why is it such a big deal?” 

There’s a bout of silence before you sigh. 

“Rin, you’re a huge soccer player. The people you’re dating and stuff - it’s a big deal,” 

Rin cuts you off. 

“That’s what you were worried about? My career?” 

“Well, yeah.” 

“You’re stupid.” 

“Hey! I’m seriously worried about it and then you go and—” 

He gives you a frown. He forgets all too often you’re like this. He’s used to your silly and unserious way of talking, so it slips his mind that you’re actually a massively responsible person. You probably have a point about it, thinking of the consequences of your relationship through hell and back. With a detached sense of rationality - Rin can recognize that you’re probably thinking about more things than this. Otherwise it wouldn’t be so touchy of a subject. 

Nothing’s changed on paper, but everything will eventually. It’s something to think about, admittedly. 

Honestly Rin doesn’t care what strangers think. He’s blunt and unfriendly. Always has been, and will continue to be through the majority of his career he’s absolutely sure. Even outside of Bluelock, he has almost no regard for the opinions of other people and what concerns them. Maybe it’s irresponsible, but Rin isn’t playing soccer for the approval of the populace and nothing will ever change that. 

“If I thought that was something I should worry about, we wouldn’t be dating.” 

You look up at him. 

“You should be worried about it.” You emphasize. 

“I’m not. I don’t care what any of those people think.” 

“Then why’d you go and say something?” 

Rin seethes.

“They deserved it.” 

Your hand reaches for his cheek. He pauses and takes a deep breath, staring at you. He leans into your touch instinctively, frustration eased by the sensation. You stare back. 

“Okay. We’ll announce it officially later, then.” 

“Do we even need to do that? If you tell three people, half of our grade’ll find out anyway.” 

“Are you saying my friends  gossip?” 

He doesn’t reply to that. You pout at him and Rin fights the urge to kiss you. There’s a beat of silence as you give him a hug - the two of you on the same roof you always are. Rin doesn’t mind it, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist. 

“You know, it’s gonna get busy for me soon.” You mumble. So this is what else you were worrying about. “And for you. I have my entrance exam and the school is in Tokyo. And you’re gonna go back to Bluelock and—” 

“It’ll be fine.”

“I’m worried about it anyways.” 

“About what?” 

“I’ll see you less. What if you stop liking me randomly and I can’t even hunt you down about it?” 

Rin huffs “You’re insane enough to find me,” He drops his chin on your shoulder “Plus you talk to my mom.” 

“You’re gonna be so busy.” 

“I’ll come see you when I’m not.” 

“And you’re going to be surrounded by the human equivalent of siren women someday soon.” 

“I don’t care about that.” 

“But you might.” 

“I haven’t in eighteen years, you moron.” 

“I’m gonna miss you all the time.” You say, sniffly and Rin is so struck with a feeling of affection he almost falls “I already miss you all the time.” 

He squeezes you a little tighter “It’ll be fine.”

“For you.” 

Rin furrows his brow, pulling back to stare at you. 

“Not for me,” Because Rin can begrudgingly admit he will miss you worse than this “Just in general. It’ll be fine. You almost made it a year without me.” 

“But now I’m with you,” You reply easily, and softly and oh-so in love Rin wants to turn away “And I’m so happy and I want it be like this for a long time,”

“Just a long time? Not something stupid like a blossoming eternity?” 

“I thought I’d scare you.” 

“You did that in April.” He points out flatly. You hit him lightly but smile anyway. 

“It’s a problem how much I like you.” 

Rin likes you just as much. You’re probably too much of an idiot to realize and won’t for a long while. He takes a little comfort in, strangely.

“It’ll be fine. I’ll come see you.” He says again, because it’s the only thing he can think to say. He believes in it thoroughly. If Rin were a better, more candidly vulnerable person he thinks now he’d give the loving boyfriend speech. He almost wants to half-assedly try but can’t bring himself to get past the awkwardness. He hugs you tighter because it’s all he’s capable of, and hopes he can will it into you. The sincerity of his words, he wants so badly for them to reach you “Stop worrying so much.” 

“Rin-kun,” You start, then pause to look up at him. His breath hitches “Rin. I love you. Really.” 

He feels like he’s gonna be sick as he stares at you, eyes widened. You look the same as you always do. Unexpectant, terribly sincere, with your heart on your sleeve. The more Rin knows you, the more he thinks it can’t be easy to be so vulnerable all the time. 

So you do it for him, and only him. And Rin is always going to be intolerable. Frustrating and impatient. But he wants to do it for you too, where he can. Rin wants you to know it’ll be fine because the fact that you’re standing here now is nothing short of a miracle. Nothing comes out right. 

“Yeah.” He says, but he can’t get the rest of words out. And you laugh, and peek up at him through your lashes. 

“And you love me too, don’t you?” 

Rin grits his teeth. He wants to say no. 

“I guess.” 

“And we’re going to be just fine.” You repeat, hugging him tight. Rin hugs you back. He wants to say thank you. He wants to kiss you stupid and make fun of you at the same time. He wants you so much and so often he’s sure he’s lost his fucking mind. 

But he agrees with you, at least. He nods. He holds you. He doesn’t like to lie, so he looks at you instead. 

“Yeah. It’s gonna be fine.” 

__

EPILOGUE ; 

In Rin’s defense, he’s not trying to listen in on the conversions of your underclassmen. 

For starters, the club door is cracked up and Rin only has one airpod fully charged. Secondly, it’s not like they’re being quiet. Rin’s pretty sure anyone with decent enough hearing could hear them from down the hall. Given that it’s the newspaper club, he’s sure that the conversation isn’t usually this interesting. 

It’s just when he catches wind of your name while you’re nowhere to be found, he finds himself eavesdropping just a little. He leans back into the chair he’s sitting in, face tucked into his black mask and hat pulled neatly over his head. 

“Guys, I’ve decided I’m going to confess to Boss  no matter what.” 

He must mean you. Rin often hears how some of the people in the club affectionately add danchou to the end of your name. Rin scoffs a little at the kids' confidence. It reminds him a little of highschool. Rin really think you’re at more of a risk than he is. Being a celebrity makes him naturally unattainable - more of a fixture than a person. 

Everytime someone confesses to you though it’s sincere. From knowing you. And he gets it but it doesn’t keep him from scoffing and turning his nose up. 

“It’d be a good idea to give up while you’re ahead.” Says another unnamed voice. 

“Yeah Nakao-san. Do you even know who Senpai's boyfriend is?” 

“N-no. But it doesn’t matter. Through the powerful of love I’ll—”

Before Rin gets a chance to listen anymore, he hears your voice call out for him. He snaps his head up to look at you. You’re dressed so professionally it’s hard to recognize you like that. Your hair is cut neat and styled professionally and you’re dressed in business casual. He’s relieved he brought shoes for you to change into. 

You run up to him anyway, and Rin stands up to make sure you don’t stumble as you throw your arms around his neck. You’re closer in height with your heels on so he doesn’t have to bend down much at all to kiss you. He pulls down his mask quickly.

“Rin-tan, you’re here.” You say with a soft, breathless giggle “I missed youuu.” 

“Missed you too,” He says, an arm squeezed around your waist “I have shoes for you in the car,”

You gasp, rubbing your cheek against his affectionately. 

“You’re the best in the world. My feet are so sore.” 

“Did the interview go well?” Rin asks. You pull away, moving your hair away from your eyes before nodding. 

“Uh-huh. The women's rugby team captain is super chill and she interviews great so it went smoothly. I just need to drop the transcript off and then we can leave,” You say holding his hand. He squeezes your palms “Do you want to meet them? You don’t have to but a lot of them ask about you.” 

Normally Rin would say no. But he’s feeling a little petty today, after all. 

“Sure.” 

You beam, your hand in his as you nudge the door open. The room goes silent, a bout of excited cheering following at your return. He’s relieved to see you’re still so well loved, a little reluctant to let go of your hand. 

“Senpai, you’re back.” 

“Yup, yup. I have the transcript and recording on this USB. Watch it and draft the article up tonight. When I come in tomorrow, we’ll go through editing and get it out by Monday.” You say, hand on hip before remembering his presence. You grab him and Rin follows “Oh, and guys - this is my boyfriend! Rin Itoshi.” 

Most of them seem to know. Rin can sense the admiration but it’s respectful. He can tell that everyone is professionals in the field. Rin likes that. He bows politely. 

“Nice to meet everyone,” 

“Nice to meet you too, Itoshi-san.” 

“Danchou…you’re dating Rin Itoshi…the famous soccer player Rin Itoshi?” 

You giggle, looping your arm in Rin’s. He laughs internally. It’s the same kid who wanted to confess to you. 

“Uh-huh. We’re highschool sweethearts! And today is our very special date night so don’t contact me for any reason until tomorrow morning at least. I’ll see you guys later.” 

“Bye, senpai.” 

“Have fun on your date.” 

With that, you turn the corner and leave the room - immediately beginning to ramble about your day. Rin half-listens. He only pays complete attention when he hears your kouhais talking from down the hall. 

“Told you to give up, dude.” 

“Rin. Are you paying attention?” 

He chuckles to himself. 

“Yeah. Sorry.” 

❁ a/n ; hello!! me again. first of alll, if you read through this whole fic, thank you so much. second of all i want to discuss a few things about this fic.

im usually pretty keen on localization for my fics where possible because i think it makes for a smoother reader experience - however the usage of honorifics was important to the atmosphere for this one so i'll hope it wasn't too awkward to read.

secondly, im nervous about rins characterization for this one so i hope it was alright. apologies for any errors its 5am and im soo tired.

this fic was mostly meant as an exploration of how i think rin would really benefit from being with someone eccentric and bubbly. the core of their relationship is that reader is an overall emotionally intelligent and honest person and how that has a huge influence on rin so i hope that growth came thru. once again thanks for reading and i hope u enjoyed. rbs and tags always appreciated!

[poolofunidentifiedfluid]

Z’s Buddie fic recs

i read an ungodly amount of buddie fics and i felt the need to document them so these are my all time favs so far

ice cream before dinner | cloudydaisies | 58.5k | T

gerrard messes with the team's schedules and eddie 'i just drove my son to flee the state' diaz is the only option to watch mara and jee-yun after school on tuesdays, which, shouldn't be a problem at all, right?)

this one is so special to me i haven’t cried about a fic in a hot second

ripples all the way down | iriswests / @fcntasmas | 57.2k | M

christopher partakes in some parent trapping

no joke this may be one of my favorite fics ive ever read. just read it trust me

burn the straw house down | rarakiplin (gmontys) / @hoediaz | 40.2k | M

buck gets stuck in time, has a break down and then, relatedly, a break through

i had never read a timeloop au before so i was skeptical at first but this was beautiful and amazing and incredible no notes. i also am extremely attached to the oc in this :,) love this tremendously

Where the light enters | june_nights / @beecauseevan | 108k | M

Chris is 800 miles away, and Eddie's house feels emptier than ever. As always, Buck is right there, ready to have his back, to catch him without hesitation if he falls. This is familiar, this is normal, this is the way they've always been.This is fine, until it isn't.Until Eddie finds himself drawn to Buck in ways he never expected—ways that might not be so new at all.

i devoured this fic so quickly and i am a slow reader (if you have religious trauma definitely read the trigger warnings)

Leave the light on (I’ll be coming home) | HMSLusitania/ @hmslusitania | 44.4k | M

An accident on a call leaves Buck with custody of Chris after Eddie is... missing presumed.While they navigate their new family circumstances -- and fight to stay together, despite Eddie's parents' best efforts -- a John Doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named Christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home.

love love love. any fic that brings the will into play i love since we havent gotten that in cannon :,)

upon reflection | jeremycarver / @louisdotmp3 | 24.8k | E

Buck and Eddie get into a friends with benefits situation that quickly spirals out of control.

they are stupid idiots and i love them dearly

if you leave the light on | cloudydaisies | 27.8k | G

the check engine light comes on in Buck's Jeep, Eddie volunteers to fix it and carpool with him in the meantime, and it all breaks down from there, literally and metaphorically

‘check engine light as an extended metaphor’ is a beautifully accurate tag

Half awake if our fake empire | HMSLusitania/ @hmslusitania | 33.5k | T

Buck 1.0 fathered a child and Buck 4.0 comes into custody.

buddie girl dads. you will see from the amount of buddie girl dads on this list and future lists that i have father issues but it makes for a great reading experience

The best lie is a truth (my best mask is my face) | letmetellyouaboutmyfeels / @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels | 43.1k | E

The Buckleys are celebrating their 50th Anniversary, and Maddie and Buck are both expected to come. To take the heat off Maddie, Buck impulsively blurts out that he's seeing someone new. Obviously, there's only one solution: bring Eddie as his fake boyfriend, pretend to be in love with him, and survive the weekend with minimal bloodshed. No problem, except for the, uh. "Pretend" part. Oops.

captured the infuriating nature of the buckley parents perfectly

from the ground up | marviless / @marviless | 51.7k | T

the story of how buck discovers he has a six-year-old daughter, spirals a bit, becomes an astronaut in training, kisses the love of his life, makes lasagna, and learns that his heart might just be the perfect place to build a home, all in seven days.

once again girl dads have me in a chokehold

good pretender | likeshipsonthesea | 85k | E

an au where buck broke up with taylor before 5b, ravi and buck become (actually platonic) friends with benefits, and ravi, eddie, and buck all go on a journey of self-discovery that ends with them all getting what they need

therapy: expensive getting therapy through eddie diaz: free. demi eddie is so dear to me

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Imagine being in the foster care/adoption system as a human in a world primarily dominated by hybrids.

You’d been to family after family, defenseless, no claws or sharp teeth to fight back with, no fur to keep you warm, no wings to fly away or thick skin to protect you, and none had turned out right. Human families were hard to come by, at least pure humans like you were. Hybrids didn’t just have animalistic features, they were also bigger than humans.

So think about being introduced to your newest family, a pack, you’d been told by your social worker. Nothing else. You, naturally, knew the bare minimum of a pack dynamic, but imagine arriving at the home, ratty backpack full of things thrown over your shoulder as your social worker’s car pulled up to the driveway of the country home, acres of land with woods in the back, a barn to the side with a few grazing animals.

You’d been led to the front door of the large home as the woman had rattled on about how this time was a ‘prime opportunity’ for you to start a family, something you’d heard her say too many times to care for now.

A knock, and the door had opened into a living room, shoulders immediately caving in as you had to look almost straight up to even meet one of the men’s eyes.

“Welcome,”

A deep, rumbling voice had said. A bear hybrid.

You hesitantly stepped in, mainly because of your social worker elbowing you in, eyes darting around to find a harpy with a relaxed smile and demeanor, wings casually spread, standing near the couch, either a wolf-hybrid or a werewolf with a mohawk sitting on the edge of the couch, darting to his feet as he saw you, giving a large, toothy grin. And the man sitting on the couch, you could hardly tell what he was, maybe a type of wraith.

Your social worker got right to chatting away with the men, mainly the bear hybrid, while you stood there, trying not to think about their sheer size, or the sharp teeth, claws and talons they wielded. They gave you space for now, watching, observing.

Little did you know, being more than half their size, no natural weapons, leaving you utterly defenseless only drove their protective instincts into overdrive. It took the iron will of a retired SAS soldier to resist the urge to bundle you up in a nest and keep you safe and happy like a good parent would.

“Well, if that’s all, I’ll be on my way. Take good care of her!”

The social worker had chirped all too happily, reaching for the doorknob as the bear hybrid replied.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, it’s not our first time.”

So they’d fostered before. Interesting. The werewolf had grinned and chuckled, clapping the bear hybrid on the back before speaking.

“Well, first time with a human, aye?”

He was Scottish. The accent made it glaringly obvious.

The woman had given a smile bordering on tight lipped as she walked out the door, a sure sign she had grown impatient or been intimidated by them as well.

As the door shut, you knew your fate with these four strange men was sealed.

(CREDIT TO @docdudo I LOVE THIS CREATURE, this is my current fixation, so y’all are hearing about it too. also PLSSS send asks about it I’m literally obsessed with this, and check docs version out tooo)

full fic here!