#and since this is the only thing i can profit for now

[i-am-trying-my-best-okay]

Attempting To Analyze Luka And Till To Try And Figure Out How Round Seven Will Go

LUKA:

From what we've seen of him, while he knows how to manipulate people's emotions, doesn't quite know how to understand them and process them. We see this as far back from when he was a kid, when he and Hyuna's brother would get into fights, and he would use his frailty as an excuse to go running to Hyuna for her to defend him; it's an excuse to get her attention, to get her to side with him against her brother. This probably made him feel good, like she placed him above her brother, even if it was momentarily.

However, this strategy came crashing down when he went too far, when he killed her brother. Perhaps this was an accident, just him being too frustrated that day, him going to far, and he didn't realize it till too late. Even so, it was fine, he just needed to present himself as the victim to Hyuna like he usually did. What he didn't anticipate, was Hyuna's complete horror and rejection of him.

Now, we don't know when exactly Hyuna ran away and went rouge, but it couldn't have been right away; also, if we're going on what we saw that one time with Hyuna still having cuffs when she was an adult, then it wouldn't be till many years later. The aliens wouldn't have put Hyuna in a different group or anything; even if she did somehow try and plead a case that she was worried for her safety or something, they'd take one look at little prized Luka and be like 'nah he's harmless; that stunt with your brother was in self defense', basically not caring at all about Hyun Woo dying at all; he wasn't as profitable as Luka. It helps that Luka is so sickly; it helps with him getting out of any actual punishment on the rare occasion he slips up. And so, in the aftermath, Hyuna and Luka still had to interact with each other everyday for the remainder of their training in childhood.

Now, to backtrack, for Luka's backstory, this is more speculation than anything. But from what I can tell, he's always had a camera in his face, some sort of eyes on him looking for media entertainment. Even before he's been properly trained, we saw that small scene of him as a child with a bunch of aliens crowding him, eyes on him, and him just looking so tired from it. I'm assuming that he was either breed and born for being a singer, or he was clocked at a very early age. Either way, he started getting media attention from before he was even put into training with others. It's in this, that Luka formed his understanding of interactions; it's performative, doing whatever the aliens want out of him for their entertainment, he learns that he needs to do certain things in order to get a positive reaction out of the aliens. It's what he needs to do to survive, all he's been trained to do really. From this all he knows about socializing is how to get an emotional response out of someone, a completely hollowed understanding of how emotions work.

And then he was put into training with other humans, which is likely the first time he's actually put with other humans. He's ostracized; he's seen as sort of 'other', since he's leagues ahead of the other humans who've barely started properly learning and he's been trained for this since forever. Also, the other humans likely have been around other humans before, meanwhile we have Luka over here who as none of the common social ques that humans have. Basically; he's never been treated like an equal before, he only knows the dehumanization dynamic from aliens, who just want him to perform. But with his group, their not asking him to perform, so he essentially ignores them, thinking that's all an interaction is. That's when Hyuna comes in; she feels like the sort of person to see how Luka is put on the outside of the group for being strange, and doggedly tries to become friends with him, despite his initial disinterest. It's through this, that Luka forms an obsession with Hyuna, his first friend, the first living being that doesn't demand anything from him. He can relax around her, do weird shit like chew on his sleeve if he feels like it and she doesn't mind, doesn't have to mask a response. He actually has positive feelings himself when he's around Hyuna, something he's not really used to. But despite this, Luka still has a dysfunctional idea of how emotions are, and really likes Hyuna, so he wants to get a positive out of her, so he still tries to do things he knows will get that out of her, like that thing with her brother.

Now, back to Hyuna now being horrified of Luka, he really doesn't know what to do with this. He tries to fix it, do every trick he knows to get a positive response from her, try to get her forgiveness, but nothing was working, and he doesn't understand why, and he's getting increasingly and dangerously frustrated. Luka is not use to getting a negative response, and I think it's through this that he really learns what that's like. So, I think to ward off his frustration, he tests getting negative responses from his fellow humans, particularly his opponents. It's through this, that he finds out how useful that can be, a more secure way to survive. As the years go by, Luka gets all the better at manipulating others emotions, and it's through this that he understands why Hyuna still won't forgive him, despite his understanding of these emotions being very clinical. Because of this, he knows how to try and better manipulate Hyuna into forgiving him, so much so that it actually starts messing with Hyuna's head. She emotionally begins to be swayed into forgiving him, but rationally she doesn't want to, and it gives her a whole complex of what she knows what she wants to feel versus what Luka is manipulating her to feel. But she ends up running away from the aliens before Luka could completely manipulate her.

When she runs away, Luka falls into a spiraling depression. The one person he's ever loved is gone, the one person who made him feel anything. From this, he dives into his work, trying to glean any sort of joy from manipulating negative responses from his competitor's to make them mess up, turning it into a sort of game at this point. It becomes his only defense against the constant eyes on him from the aliens, the constant and disgustingly dehumanizing attention that has choked him ever since he could remember. Luka folds further and further into himself, burying whatever sliver of humanity he felt with Hyuna. However, he follows very closely the revolution movement that's happening, knowing for a fact Hyuna would join (or start?) the group. The aliens likely have covered up this revolution, especially from the humans so they won't get any ideas, but with Luka being Luka, he likely has the influence to get some insider information whenever he can, causally eavesdropping on important alien figures talking about it while he sings for them. Whatever the case, no matter how much time has passed, Hyuna haunts him just as much as he haunts Hyuna. And even after all this time, he still doesn't hold the proper remorse of murdering her brother or trying to manipulate her into forgiving him, just regretting the results.

TILL:

From what I can try to glean from Till's past, it's littered in violence from the aliens. I can see there being a sort of cycle with Till; he does something that his alien owners lightly punish him for, which puts him on the defense and gets violent, which in turn makes the alien's get violent and try to restrain, which makes Till get even more violent, and so on. The aliens viewed him as sort of this feral dog, completely untrainable, moving him from home to home, shelter to shelter. They try all their methods they have to make him 'submit', but each and every time he simply refuses.

I sort of have this theory that Till didn't start out as someone with an owner, or someone who was even regulated by an alien in a adoption facility or something; he used to live on the streets, completely unmanaged, which is very rare for humans. Maybe he even had other stray humans he hung around, or maybe he managed on his own. Either way, eventually he gets captured by the aliens, and maybe his fellow stray humans get captured and broken down or killed in this. The aliens try to integrate Till into their human pet system, but he's just not having it. He wasn't trained by aliens since birth to act a certain way, which would explain his intense resistance towards them. He sees the situation for what it is, how humans being put in such a degrading and dehumanizing dynamic is wrong, and it makes him angry to be expected to put up with it. It makes him especially angry that his fellow humans expect him to go along with this dehumanization, just to keep the waters calm. Because even the humans that have sort of realized that this is wrong, were still trained under this system, and has just accepted that they need to live with it, and Till won't. They all act like he's crazy, aliens and humans alike, but Till refuses to give in.

Whatever the case, Till proves to show constant resilience, something that probably was having him set up to be on track for being 'put down', having no worth as a 'pet'. Till knew this, but it just made him push even harder, fight back harder. We see in a few flashes of Till be experimented on with syringes; possibly in an effort to make him calmer. This was probably something that happened before and after he became a singer. Even then, physically and biologically abused, he refuses to go along with this system, to try and hold on to any sense of autonomy he has even as they try to restrain and degrade it. And all this fighting does take a toll on Till; we see it in the heavy bags under his eyes, but even so, he keeps going. You know, unironically, I think Till is the embodiment of the term "the indomitable human spirit"; he just absolutely refuses to be cowed for the sake of an easier survival.

I think what kept him from being 'put down' was when it was discovered he had a talent for singing. I don't know how this was discovered; maybe Till was just bored and entertaining himself with singing or strumming a guitar, or maybe they had him tested for a talent before the decided to kill him just in case he had any sort of monetary worth. Once they figured out he had a talent, he was shipped off to be the Anact Garden's problem.

Now, Till, at his core, is an extremely protective person; it's actually kind of insane. Once he decides something is 'his', he tightly holds onto and protects it with everything he has. We see this time and time again; deciding to be the sole protector of the flowers and encouraging them to grow, literally beating someone up if they stepped on them. Following Mizi around just in case she would need help, and one day she did, and she didn't hesitate to run into that cave and fight off whatever monster she had stumbled upon, literally just some child squaring up against some mutated beast (or possibly striking a deal with it? we didn't see the whole thing. either way whatever he did must have been a huge deal because it literally changed Ivan's life). He doesn't even care if Mizi loves Sua and that she'll never love him; he just wants her to be safe and happy. And in defending Ivan as well, cause he was a weird kid, and I know Till would go from snarling at Ivan to snarling at another kid who's making fun of Ivan. And that's why he fights so hard for his own rights and autonomy as well, because he's protective of his own sense of self, refusing to let go of it. His protective instincts are his main motivation for basically all of his actions, all of his supposed feral behavior.

It's probably this that trait that drew Ivan to Till in the first place; his and Till's first interaction was Till beating him up over some flowers. It kind of looked like Ivan felt alive for possibly the first time in his life during that fight. I bet afterwards, if Ivan were to question Till on it, Till wouldn't even understand the point of the question; like of course he would defend the flowers till his last dying breath? Duh? Don't be a dick? Ivan probably followed Till around all the time, but I imagine the reason Till didn't form as close a connection to Ivan was because Till sees Ivan as just another source of violence in his life he needs to fight against. It's why he probably developed such a crush on Mizi; Till is drawn to kindness more than anything, to softness. It's why he forms a connection to the flowers, to Mizi. He can't see the kindness in Ivan, not till it's too late.

It's probably those protective instincts that made him turn back when Ivan was trying to get him to run away; of course he wanted to run away. But then he thought of Mizi, left unprotected. And then he considered Ivan, who upon running away, would also be left unprotected out in the world. His need to protect was being torn at, and in the end, he chose Mizi, leaving Ivan to fend for himself. What he didn't expect, was to see that Ivan came back too. That's when Till truly stopped seeing Ivan; his guilt didn't allow him to. He feels like he abandoned him, thrown him aside what he feels he needs to protect, forced him to come back to the facility, and now Till can't look him in the eye.

Honestly, I think it's these protective instincts that serve in his break down after Mizi left. He feels like he failed in protecting her, and not only that, he feels like there's nothing left for him to protect. He'd already thrown away the idea of protecting himself when he was entered into this competition, only motivated to protect himself to get far enough to go against Mizi in the final round, in which he was going to throw the round so that she could live. He completely threw away any protective instinct for his own survival, having accepted that at the beginning of this competition, because those he loves will always come first, and he and Mizi both couldn't survive, so really it was a no brainer for him. But now Mizi is gone, and he doesn't know how to get that desire to protect himself back, can't find the motivation for it. And so, going up against Ivan, all of the years of constantly fighting are just coming to get him, and he's just so tired. With nothing left, he was just going to throw the match. And then Ivan comes up and starts kissing him, which catches Till completely off guard. But then Ivan starts choking him before Till could process what that meant, and this made a lot more sense to him. Ivan killing him on stage lines up with everything he thinks Ivan to be; just another source of violence, and he's going to let him. But then he realizes what's actually going on, and it all clicks into place for him; Ivan loved him. Ivan had a whole inner world Till never knew because he decided to look away. And Ivan was something Till still had left to protect, but now he was gone. And all he has left to protect is the sacrifice Ivan left behind; himself.

TOGETHER:

It's unlikely these two have ever really met before; they were in different age groups when they were being trained as kids, and given their extremely different vibes it's unlikely they'd be asked to perform together or even be asked for from the same clients. So this competition is likely the first time they've met. Having never really met, what they currently think of each other is Till thinking Luka "is a dick who messed with Mizi and kisses up to the audience", and Luka thinks of Till as "an idiot who will go unhinged at the drop of a hat and has no sense of his own self preservation".

Till finds the motivation to want to survive, for Ivan's sake. He wants to protect Ivan's cause for dying, almost like he wants to make up for not properly seeing him over the years, for tossing him aside and not protecting him. Bro's got a whole complex he'll work on for the rest of his life, but right now it's really motivating him to win, so at least there's that.

It would be really easy for Luka get a negative reaction out of Till; he's very reactive to things. But I think Luka will fail in getting the right kind of reactions out of Till. Typically, when he backs his competitors into a corner, they feel too much turmoil to properly sing. But that's the thing with Till; he's reactive. If Luka pushes him physiologically, his response won't be to shut down, it'll probably motivate him to sing even better, try to sing over Luka out of spite. So Luka's best bet is to try and provoke Till into violence, and it'll prove a challenge for Till who probably already hates this guy for giving Mizi a breakdown. I bet for the entire round Till will have to try so hard not to beat this guy up, to push all his aggressive energy into the performance, but it's so clear how much he just wants to murder this man, leaving the crowd and the guards on pins and needles.

Till's normal style of competing seems to be singing over his opponents, making sure they have absolutely no time to collect themselves. It's kind of funny, how both Till and Luka's strategy is just to make the other one look worse. But Luka has a lot of experience with making the crowd like him, so he throws tricks at Till he wouldn't be expecting, somehow blending the performances perfectly. But Till has never been one to stick to the script, so I can imagine him just playing a wildly different tune, trying to force Luka to change lanes again and again, seeing if he can keep up. In the end, this isn't a performance; it's a fight, a tug of war for the spotlight.

On another point, I wonder if Till will accidently remind Luka of Hyuna; she was obviously a rebel herself, given her whole thing of going to go join a revolution, so I wonder if at some point in the performance Luka will see a bit of Hyuna in Till, and it'll cause some faulter. It's kind of funny; Luka will on purpose psychologically torment Till with those that he lost, and Till will accidently psychologically torment Luka with the one that he lost.

Really, them competing with each other is sort of like a round of chicken, seeing who will crack first. But of course, all this could be for naught when we thrown in these two uncontrollable elements; Hyuna and Mizi. They're here, at the facility, and they're in trouble. This is something both of them will deeply care about, and it's unclear how it'll factor in. I wonder, if at some point during the performance the two of them will realize Hyuna and Mizi's situation, and give each other a look, like they're saying to each other "okay fuck you and all but we've got to help them", and then their battle turns into a weird sort of temporary alliance. Maybe they try to distract the aliens with their performance or start actually fighting. Maybe they do some sort of weird complicated dance move that's made to break the power and to make it easier for Hyuna and Mizi to get away. Maybe they just say 'fuck it' and run off the stage together, going to help the other two and have them all escape. Either way, I think the ending of their performance won't have anything to do with the two of them at all, but rather another. And I suppose it's fitting for the two of them, whose current sense of identity is tied so closely to other people, rather than themselves.

#this became more of a disorganized rant of my little backstory theories then anything lol #I'm actually so chill and normal about alien stage thanks for asking #alien stage #alien stage till #alien stage luka #alien stage hyuna #alien stage sua #alien stage mizi #alien stage ivan #till #luka #hyuna #sua #mizi #ivan

[gnashingwailing]

@fireflywritesgt ok i read your tag on ch21 and i took that as a personal challenge (and then while I was writing this you dropped ch22 and THEN 23 and murdered me. but i'm back now. so)

HELLO Ok fuck yeah hold on everybody take my hand. We’re theorizing about this chapter 🙏 spoilers thru ch23 below

Re: the tag: dare I hope the next story will be set in a similar time/place… i MUST ADMIT despite the significant broader cultural stigma of such a thing. I have often contemplated. Harry and Joe helping with providing socialized miniature healthcare 😭 (maybe to wherever Lorraine lives[?] or knows of?) and when I heard mention of a Tiny Town Hospital… one must wonder how this compares to a Giant Hospital, or to the barber surgeon dens that Joe has presumably had some frostbitten toes cut off at.

OTHER THINGS I’M SPECULATING ABOUT: “certainly, bandits were a problem a borrower occasionally had to face” 🤔 damn that's rough. I do love the sense that there are few overarching cultural norms, whether it's around marriage or language or so on. Everybody is kinda doing their own thing (including robbing each other oof).

I am also VEEEERRY curious about the implications of WHATEVER the tinies that are working in Tiny Town are doing. What kind of mechanized thing could be profitable from a lot of little guys pressing buttons? Or is it maybe not something physical they’re producing? Is it instead a research project? Some attempt at “civilizing” the tiny society for giant colonialism reasons? There’s got to be some kind of output here that is valuable to some kind of giant, but I’m still mystified at what it will be. “Joe wanted to ask him about the four armed giants who stood outside of Tiny Town” YEAH MAN ME TOO‼️ <- secretly delighted this is still coming up because I want to know what it means QUITE BADLY

Joe lamenting that there don't seem to be any libraries, or restaurants, or speakeasies, or any mark of ... art or entertainment? In Tiny Town? I REALLY HOPE Joe and Harry get over themselves and kiss soon so they can TALK ABOUT HOW FUCKING WEIRD THIS PLACE IS???? It made me INSAAANE THAT JOE JUST BRUSHED OFF TALKING ABOUT IT AT ALL 😭 JOE TO HAVE THOSE THINGS. PEOPLE HAVE TO WORK AT THEM. ARE ALL THE PEOPLE IN TINY TOWN JUST WORKING ON PUSHING BUTTONS??? JOE PLS

“Expecting handouts from the bloody giants…” sooo fascinating to hear him voice this, since this whole project is a handout in the absolute best case scenario (given that scraps are worthless to giants), although likely closer to a prison, as Professor Hill called it. Still patiently waiting for his smart and cool wife to explain things to me <3

I hope Joe will deign to really talk about what happened to him… GURL go process it with ur beautiful best friend!! Let him hold you and comfort you and tell you you’re literally so smart and correct and everything you’re saying about ditching the buttons part entirely is literally so beautiful and true!!! Go rock his world with your insights king!!!

Also lmfao Joe is definitely not Irish bcuz his Irish Goodbyes need some SERIOUS work. King of just literally running off when he’s not feeling a conversation anymore.

Me 🤝Joe <- autistically just leaving

He does this so often and it makes me cackle every time. Wait hold on those great meme posts make me want to make a JUST WALK OUT! One.

Absolutely loving the tension of it all… the reveal that Joe was doing watchmaking when he was TWELVE, meaning (if I'm keeping track of time correctly) he got snatched right after he was ABANDONED BY HIS ONLY FAMILY IN THE WORLD, was so artfully done. I had to stop in my tracks and think at the “he’d known O’Grady longer in his life than he hadn’t” and do math and be like “oh fuck.” Maybe this was teased prior and I didn’t pick up on it, but it hit HARD. For some reason I hadn’t assumed he was a kid — but why wouldn’t he be? If little kids are already doing things like crawling into discarded beer bottles. Fuck, Warren, heartbreaking stuff. Bravo. Of course Joe would be as dedicated to going and seeing him as he was Harry in the hospital. He cares so deeply about everyone, but especially his friends. It’s too bad O’Grady is no longer in a place to reciprocate the love Joe gives !!! But of course Joe still would not be ready to throw away the boot knife O’Grady made for him… “a decision that would forever change Joe’s life” btw I can hear ur evil hehe from here. :)

Also btw THIS little detail is one of those things that makes rereading your story so delightful: “They invade our end of the city, take our jobs, show up at our bar… did we invite them? No.” O’Grady was practically ranting. “And when we politely tell them to leave, what do they do?” O’Grady pointed to his bandaged head. “Watch out for them once you get here. They’re not good Irishmen like you and me, Joe.” juxtaposed with the actual breaking news we heard from the radio ? "“AN IRISHMAN AND AN ITALIAN ARE IN THE HOSPITAL AFTER A MASS BRAWL OUTSIDE A BAR ENDED IN A CRACKED SKULL AND A STABBING. NEITHER OF ‘EM HAVE BEEN IDENTIFIED YET.”" a fucking STABBING = "politely tell them to leave"? What kinds of things has Joe's friend gotten used to excusing?

And of course I love the moments of solidarity within the tragedy of the newly realized (or at least newly stoked) xenophobia between borrowers. Joe being reminded of how his parents spoke, and how his brother shooed him off, in the gestures of a stranger… you really do a great job of evoking the ways we are all connected to each other. His family is gone, but he still sees them everywhere he looks. [pacing my enclosure and being sooo normal about how Joe has purposefully isolated for a decade and yet cannot help but see the beauty and humanity of his fellow man whether tiny or giant bcuz despite thinking he’s wired wrong, he’s actually wired like all of us who have felt that way for our unusual proclivities. He’s wired for connection with his fellow man. And he’s so wired for it u can feel how much it hurts his heart. Haha I’m sooooo .] The older guy was trying to warn him off crossing a white line into the “Irish ward”, too, right? The gesture was a kindness. And speaking of, does that mean the little tunnel somebody dug is to the Irish district? Or was I turned around and it was the Italian one? Either way — who would be trying to get in here, and why? Maybe it’s just a desperate person, but O’Grady talking about how bad it’d be if they saw Joe, and the need for an ID, makes me think it’s not someplace you can sneak into and integrate with. Just makes me curious as to whether it’ll come up again!!

THIS is also something I'm wondering about -- could the 'output' of Tiny Town maybe be researching, like... ethnonationalism? In the wake of WWI? Those drawn lines separating different 'wards'... do we think Tinies came up with this shit on their own? I doubt it, if someone like Dawson who is immediately assigning people nationalities that we know from Calloway's nobody "normal" in borrower society knows/cares about. HMMMmmmmMMMMM. I'm still reaaaaally curious how much Hill knows about this place and what hand, if any, he had in it. ONCE AGAIN, boys get kissing so you can also get TALKING. I think Harry would have much to say about how pointless it is to hate individuals from other nationalities after everything he saw during the war. Or so I assume, given he had no bad reaction to Joe being Italian.

AND WELL THIS IS LESS THEORYCRAFTING AND MORE “ME WANTING TO WRITE MORE FANFIC ABOUT THEM” BUT I WAS SOOO DELIGHTED THE CHAPTER DIDN’T END WITH HIM LEAVING TINY TOWN AND WE INSTEAD GOT DRESS REHEARSAL 2 OF HARRY AND JOE GETTING SO FUCKING DOWN BAD FOR EACH OTHER AT THE WINDOW & IN THE BEDROOM. YIPPEEEEE <- this was written before ch22 lol pictures taken moments before disaster

“Joe fidgeted for a moment as he fought with himself over whether or not to say what he really wanted to say.” … did you say what you really wanted to, there, pal? 🤨

I'm sooooo glad Joe's books are making more and more appearances... much like Harry I'm endlessly delighted by his culture. I wanna know what shaped his romantic fantasies!!

""Yeah, the ending on this one isn't great. They're cowards. Could've at least said they loved each other." Joe said.

He closed the book and snuggled into the crook of Harry's neck." <- Lmao @ these two guys so allergic to talking about their feelings shit-talking the romance book protagonists while they're literally cuddling in bed and not acknowledging it

Did he own these books when he was a kid? I imagine so, but on the other hand? HEY HOLY SHIT I REALIZED AFTER CH23 SOMETHING I SUSPECTED BUT COULDN'T CONFIRM: if homophobia isn't something borrowers have. Is one of these romance novels Joe owns going to be between two men? Harry is going to get his fuckin world rocked. Him and Georgie stole books from the library before, but I doubt they found any gay romance stuff (still impossible for baby-gay-Gnash to find that almost 100 years later in their rural libraries, lol.) Would this be Harry's first exposure to something like that? Wahhh... hurry up and open up to each other again you need to talk culture ASAP...

I'm also very curious if borrowers would have more taboo novels of their own, particularly giant/tiny stuff. And would Joe have come across any of it? I imagine it'd be extremely difficult to sell things like that without a beating, but maybe in bigger night markets -- and Joe said he's been in lots of very big cities... if his third novel is some really salacious g/t writing that would do numbers here on tumblr dot com I'm going to lose my god damn mind.

#once again. it would be a war crime to try putting this in your inbox. also other people seemed to enjoy it last time. #take my hand fellow TAoLaW enthusiasts. let's make incorrect guesses about where things are heading... together <3 #thanks for the wonderful fic Warren!! it's taking over my brain!!!

[phantomrose96]

If anyone wants to know why every tech company in the world right now is clamoring for AI like drowned rats scrabbling to board a ship, I decided to make a post to explain what's happening.

(Disclaimer to start: I'm a software engineer who's been employed full time since 2018. I am not a historian nor an overconfident Youtube essayist, so this post is my working knowledge of what I see around me and the logical bridges between pieces.)

Okay anyway. The explanation starts further back than what's going on now. I'm gonna start with the year 2000. The Dot Com Bubble just spectacularly burst. The model of "we get the users first, we learn how to profit off them later" went out in a no-money-having bang (remember this, it will be relevant later). A lot of money was lost. A lot of people ended up out of a job. A lot of startup companies went under. Investors left with a sour taste in their mouth and, in general, investment in the internet stayed pretty cooled for that decade. This was, in my opinion, very good for the internet as it was an era not suffocating under the grip of mega-corporation oligarchs and was, instead, filled with Club Penguin and I Can Haz Cheezburger websites.

Then around the 2010-2012 years, a few things happened. Interest rates got low, and then lower. Facebook got huge. The iPhone took off. And suddenly there was a huge new potential market of internet users and phone-havers, and the cheap money was available to start backing new tech startup companies trying to hop on this opportunity. Companies like Uber, Netflix, and Amazon either started in this time, or hit their ramp-up in these years by shifting focus to the internet and apps.

Now, every start-up tech company dreaming of being the next big thing has one thing in common: they need to start off by getting themselves massively in debt. Because before you can turn a profit you need to first spend money on employees and spend money on equipment and spend money on data centers and spend money on advertising and spend money on scale and and and

But also, everyone wants to be on the ship for The Next Big Thing that takes off to the moon.

So there is a mutual interest between new tech companies, and venture capitalists who are willing to invest $$$ into said new tech companies. Because if the venture capitalists can identify a prize pig and get in early, that money could come back to them 100-fold or 1,000-fold. In fact it hardly matters if they invest in 10 or 20 total bust projects along the way to find that unicorn.

But also, becoming profitable takes time. And that might mean being in debt for a long long time before that rocket ship takes off to make everyone onboard a gazzilionaire.

But luckily, for tech startup bros and venture capitalists, being in debt in the 2010's was cheap, and it only got cheaper between 2010 and 2020. If people could secure loans for ~3% or 4% annual interest, well then a $100,000 loan only really costs $3,000 of interest a year to keep afloat. And if inflation is higher than that or at least similar, you're still beating the system.

So from 2010 through early 2022, times were good for tech companies. Startups could take off with massive growth, showing massive potential for something, and venture capitalists would throw infinite money at them in the hopes of pegging just one winner who will take off. And supporting the struggling investments or the long-haulers remained pretty cheap to keep funding.

You hear constantly about "Such and such app has 10-bazillion users gained over the last 10 years and has never once been profitable", yet the thing keeps chugging along because the investors backing it aren't stressed about the immediate future, and are still banking on that "eventually" when it learns how to really monetize its users and turn that profit.

The pandemic in 2020 took a magnifying-glass-in-the-sun effect to this, as EVERYTHING was forcibly turned online which pumped a ton of money and workers into tech investment. Simultaneously, money got really REALLY cheap, bottoming out with historic lows for interest rates.

Then the tide changed with the massive inflation that struck late 2021. Because this all-gas no-brakes state of things was also contributing to off-the-rails inflation (along with your standard-fare greedflation and price gouging, given the extremely convenient excuses of pandemic hardships and supply chain issues). The federal reserve whipped out interest rate hikes to try to curb this huge inflation, which is like a fire extinguisher dousing and suffocating your really-cool, actively-on-fire party where everyone else is burning but you're in the pool. And then they did this more, and then more. And the financial climate followed suit. And suddenly money was not cheap anymore, and new loans became expensive, because loans that used to compound at 2% a year are now compounding at 7 or 8% which, in the language of compounding, is a HUGE difference. A $100,000 loan at a 2% interest rate, if not repaid a single cent in 10 years, accrues to $121,899. A $100,000 loan at an 8% interest rate, if not repaid a single cent in 10 years, more than doubles to $215,892.

Now it is scary and risky to throw money at "could eventually be profitable" tech companies. Now investors are watching companies burn through their current funding and, when the companies come back asking for more, investors are tightening their coin purses instead. The bill is coming due. The free money is drying up and companies are under compounding pressure to produce a profit for their waiting investors who are now done waiting.

You get enshittification. You get quality going down and price going up. You get "now that you're a captive audience here, we're forcing ads or we're forcing subscriptions on you." Don't get me wrong, the plan was ALWAYS to monetize the users. It's just that it's come earlier than expected, with way more feet-to-the-fire than these companies were expecting. ESPECIALLY with Wall Street as the other factor in funding (public) companies, where Wall Street exhibits roughly the same temperament as a baby screaming crying upset that it's soiled its own diaper (maybe that's too mean a comparison to babies), and now companies are being put through the wringer for anything LESS than infinite growth that Wall Street demands of them.

Internal to the tech industry, you get MASSIVE wide-spread layoffs. You get an industry that used to be easy to land multiple job offers shriveling up and leaving recent graduates in a desperately awful situation where no company is hiring and the market is flooded with laid-off workers trying to get back on their feet.

Because those coin-purse-clutching investors DO love virtue-signaling efforts from companies that say "See! We're not being frivolous with your money! We only spend on the essentials." And this is true even for MASSIVE, PROFITABLE companies, because those companies' value is based on the Rich Person Feeling Graph (their stock) rather than the literal profit money. A company making a genuine gazillion dollars a year still tears through layoffs and freezes hiring and removes the free batteries from the printer room (totally not speaking from experience, surely) because the investors LOVE when you cut costs and take away employee perks. The "beer on tap, ping pong table in the common area" era of tech is drying up. And we're still unionless.

Never mind that last part.

And then in early 2023, AI (more specifically, Chat-GPT which is OpenAI's Large Language Model creation) tears its way into the tech scene with a meteor's amount of momentum. Here's Microsoft's prize pig, which it invested heavily in and is galivanting around the pig-show with, to the desperate jealousy and rapture of every other tech company and investor wishing it had that pig. And for the first time since the interest rate hikes, investors have dollar signs in their eyes, both venture capital and Wall Street alike. They're willing to restart the hose of money (even with the new risk) because this feels big enough for them to take the risk.

Now all these companies, who were in varying stages of sweating as their bill came due, or wringing their hands as their stock prices tanked, see a single glorious gold-plated rocket up out of here, the likes of which haven't been seen since the free money days. It's their ticket to buy time, and buy investors, and say "see THIS is what will wring money forth, finally, we promise, just let us show you."

To be clear, AI is NOT profitable yet. It's a money-sink. Perhaps a money-black-hole. But everyone in the space is so wowed by it that there is a wide-spread and powerful conviction that it will become profitable and earn its keep. (Let's be real, half of that profit "potential" is the promise of automating away jobs of pesky employees who peskily cost money.) It's a tech-space industrial revolution that will automate away skilled jobs, and getting in on the ground floor is the absolute best thing you can do to get your pie slice's worth.

It's the thing that will win investors back. It's the thing that will get the investment money coming in again (or, get it second-hand if the company can be the PROVIDER of something needed for AI, which other companies with venture-back will pay handsomely for). It's the thing companies are terrified of missing out on, lest it leave them utterly irrelevant in a future where not having AI-integration is like not having a mobile phone app for your company or not having a website.

So I guess to reiterate on my earlier point:

Drowned rats. Swimming to the one ship in sight.

#chrissy speaks #long post #-gestures broadly-

[sexybritishllama]

in further neopets discord news, oh boy is there drama in my awful virtual pet game website today. strap in if you want way too much information on neopets’ broken economy

for some context, an event has just launched called the faerie festival. this is the first event to be run by the ‘new’ TNT (aka. the neopets team aka. the staff) since the leadership change, and they've said in recent editorials that this year’s faerie festival is going to be a combo of two previous popular events:

the faerie quest event, wherein people can get a free quest from a faerie every day in exchange for a reward (something that’s normally limited to random special events and therefore quite rare)

the charity corner, a highly requested event that hasn’t run since 2020, where you can donate random items to get points that can then be exchanged in a prize shop

there’s a LOT of ultimately worthless items on neopets that people gather from doing dailies and things, but charity corner actually gave a use to hoarding all of these, so people have wanted it back for ages. people have been going out of their way to hoard extra junk items for like 2 months now, after TNT teased the event in an editorial

this event was originally meant to start on 20th august, but got delayed 2 weeks, presumably because of issues behind the scenes. people were generally a bit disappointed but relieved if this meant they were going to get a proper, well prepared event without bugs

flash forward to 2nd october, the actual start of the event. nothing actually opens up for several hours on the day- that’s somewhat waved off by the fact that staff presumably need to be in the office to launch everything, a midnight launch isn’t expected

but, eventually, it opens!

well… kinda. there’s one page with one dialogue scene available and a link to an event page for spending neocash (the premium currency that costs irl money). the faerie quest page is giving out free daily quests, which is nice, but literally just the same as they did back in 2020. where’s the item recycling part? did this really need 2 weeks of delay?

the next day, the FAQ page for the event is published neopets support site (but not announced via news). still no sign of the actual event starting- seems like that might not be until moday?

as well as multiple grammatical errors, the FAQ had a few… concerning elements. most notably:

only 10 items could be donated per day

points would be awarded based on the rarity of the item, with the maximum rarity being r200-500, worth 15 points each

this meant people's hoarding of junk items for months was... essentially useless

r200-500 items basically means either hidden tower items (rare, expensive items that can only be bought in an account age locked shop with a purchase limit of 1 per day) orrrr….. neocash items. In other words, players could either spend an exorbinate amount of their in-game currency to buy up items to donate, or they could just hand over their credit card and pay to win

people were Not Happy about this

not long after info spread and the outcry started (and a sizeable number of people cancelled their premium membership in protest), the FAQ was quietly updated to remove mention of donating neocash items. that took away to pay to win element at least

however, now there was a new problem. a tombola man problem.

i mentioned already that the highest rarity items are pretty rare and expensive. one of the least expensive of these is an item called the Squeezy Tombola Guy Toy. you can probably see where this is going already

because you can only buy a maximum of one tombola guy per day from the hidden tower, your only option if you want to buy more than that in a day is to go to user shops. however, in light of the event, people had already started buying and hoarding tombola guy toys. equally, others were buying them purely to sell at a profit. this made the perfect storm and caused the price of the tombola guy toy, which was normally 110k NP, to explode up to 500k, 600k, even 700k within just one day

BUT THEN THE FAQ GOT UPDATED AGAIN. surprise, you can now donate 30 items per day! also they just got rid of the highest rarity tier altogether. the maximum you can get for an item is now 8 points, for rarity r102-r179.

this has now made the squeezy tombola guy toys useless. unless you’re a collector they don’t serve any function beyond that of a normal neopets toy (of which there’s thousands of much cheaper options). the price has now plummeted down to BELOW what it originally was and many users now have piles and piles of the dolls sitting in their inventory, mocking them

so what now? well, because no one ever learns, everyone is now flocking to what is now the cheapest high-rarity item eligible for donation. most are going for omelettes, which have a few different options at r102+. these have also inflated by like 400% from before the event, but unlike the squeeze tombola guys, these are only worth a few thousand neopoints, so not as bad a potential loss in comparison

it’s worth noting that while all this is going on in preparation for the recycling event, neopets is also experiencing insane inflation in a lot of other items right now, including those required for people to complete faerie quests. for example, a Griefer, which cost 5000 np just last week, is now worth selling for 1 MILLION

So yeah. 3 days into the event and that’s where we are so far. who knows what tomorrow might bring

#eloise talks #neopets #long post #neotag

[rebeccathenaturalist]

Welcome to my Tuesday morning PSA about plastics!

So--I was walking along the Bolstadt beach approach sidewalk here in Long Beach, WA yesterday afternoon, and I started seeing these little orange pellets on the ground that looked a little bit like salmon roe (but probably weren't). So I picked one up, and it was most definitely rubber. I went around picking up every one I could find, and while I didn't keep exact count I probably amassed 50-60 of them. I took this picture before depositing them in the nearest trash can.

These are airsoft gun pellets, and you can buy them in big jars containing thousands of them. That means that someone who decided that the beach was a great place to shoot their airsoft guns could easily litter the place with countless little bits of plastic rubber in less than an hour. We already have a huge problem here with people leaving trash, including tiny bits of plastic, all over the beach (you should see the gigantic mess after 4th of July fireworks when thousands of people come in from out of town, blow things up, and then leave again without picking up after themselves.)

But these airsoft pellets have a particularly nasty side effect. You know how my first thought was "wow, those look kind of like salmon roe?" Well, we have a number of opportunistic omnivore birds like crows, ravens, and several species of gull that commonly scavenge on the beach, especially along the approaches because people often feed them there. If I can catch the resemblance of an orange airsoft pellet to a fish egg, then chances are there are wildlife that will assume they're edible.

Since birds don't chew their food, they probably won't notice that the taste or texture is wrong--it'll just go down the hatch. And since they can't digest the pellets, there's a good chance they might just build up in the bird's digestive system, especially if the bird eats a large number of them--say, fifty or sixty of them dropped on the ground along the same fifty foot stretch of sidewalk. The bird might die of starvation if there's not enough capacity for food in their stomach--or they might just die painfully of an impacted gut, and no way to get help for it. If the pellets end up washed into the ocean, you get the same issue with fish and other marine wildlife eating them, and then of course the pellets eventually breaking up into microplastic particles.

You can get biodegradable airsoft pellets; they appear to mainly be gray or white in color rather than bright screaming orange and green. But "biodegradable" doesn't mean "instantly dissolves the next time it rains." An Amazon listing for Aim Green biodegradable airsoft pellets advertise them as "Our biodegradable BBs are engineered to degrade only with long-term exposure to water and sun and will degrade 180 days after being used." That's half a year for them to be eaten by wildlife.

I don't know, y'all. That handful of carelessly dropped rubber pellets just encapsulates how much people don't factor in the rest of nature when making decisions, even on something that is purely for entertainment like an airsoft gun. We could have had a lot of the same technological advances we have today, but with much less environmental impact, if we had considered the long-term effects on both other people and other living beings, as well as our habitats. We could have found ways from the beginning to make these things in ways that benefited us but also mitigated any harm as much as possible. Instead we're now having to reverse-engineer things we've been using for decades, and sometimes--like the "biodegradable" airsoft pellets--they still have a significant negative impact.

But--at least there are people trying to do things better, thinking ahead instead of just on immediate profit. We're stuck in a heck of a mess here, figuratively and literally, and changing an entire system can't be done in a day. Maybe we can at least keep pushing for a cultural shift that emphasizes planning far into the future--if not the often-cited "seven generations ahead", then at least throughout the potential lifespan of a given product.

#plastics #microplastics #environment #environmentalism #conservation #nature #pollution #litter #birds #tw animal death #animal welfare #ecology #science #wildlife #animals #scicomm #pnw #airsoft #biodegradable #solarpunk

[atskiruma]

his attempts at courting you

expl: he finds himself thinking about you more often, wanting to seek you out consistently, and giving you numerous gifts every day to see you smile

a/n: it has come to my attention that the last ff i wrote, (snow day) was not very well depicted for all readers to enjoy, i want to apologize for that and promise that i will get better at trying to make sure everyone is able to read it and enjoy it, my writings are targeted for all | unfortunately, i can not edit it right now seeing as there's a poll going on, but once that poll is finished i will change my wording in the ff

ask me anything masterlist

second person writing no pronouns used

Zhongli often felt himself thinking about you more often while he was working around the parlor. Even seeking out your name in conversations and listening more attentively when someone was speaking about you. It didn't confuse him though, he was aware of his interest in you.

You opened up the warmth in his heart and welcomed him kindly every time you two saw each other. It made him happy to see you happy, and this was evident when flowers were delivered directly to your door one sunny afternoon.

"These are for you," The mail lady said before turning around and walking away to do more deliveries. You didn't even get to ask who they were from before she was gone. Staring down at the bouquet of tiger lilies in front of you, you could only assume that the bright orange and black colors could depict a certain someone's hair color.

It was a nice piece on your kitchen counter and went well with the other decorations spiraling around your house. That was, until the next morning, you were greeted again with another gift. A bright orange vase to compliment the tiger lilies you received the other day. It was funny, why was he going out of his way to send you such nice gifts?

You finally managed to confront him when you saw Childe and Zhongli sitting together on the seats of an outside cafe. Walking over and waving to the both of them. They greeted you back, and small talk was given for only a couple minutes.

"I actually came over here to thank Zhongli," This caught his attention, and he turned to look up at you, "I really loved the flowers you sent and the vase goes really well with them too!" You said while smiling.

He nodded back at you, seemingly collecting himself extremely quickly at the fact you figured out so quick who it was. "I'm glad you liked them," He said.

"I came to give you this in return," You said," "I know it's probably not as extravagant as the ones you gave me, but I like it." Handing over the small gift box, he opened it and smiled softly at the item. It was a small keychain, nothing special, and it was decorated with a lovely orange seem.

That same keychain would be hung up right next to his bedframe, along with variant letters you sent him on the table accompanying it.

Diluc was someone who took courting another person seriously. He found it tradition since his father had spoken so much of it when Diluc was younger. He always wanted to treat the one he loved with respect and be as much of a gentleman as possible.

This was why you were taking a stroll with him through his grapevines on a sunny afternoon. He offered for you to come down to the Winery a couple days ago and you had just gotten around to accepting his offer. His hand rested on your back as he took you through multiple different paths and explained everything. As you strolled, he talked about things concerning the vine, his profits, the seasons they needed to be planted, etc.

You smiled at him, knowing it was something he took dear to his heart, and listened very attentively to what he was saying. In reality, Diluc was really hoping that all he was talking about didn't bore you in any way.

Then, the next couple of hours were spent sitting in his large dining room, eating food made by the cooks in his home. It was nice, and you were very happy that he wanted to spend this much time with you. Diluc even found himself watching you eat here and there, asking you if the food was good or if you needed anything else in the time being.

After everything was over, and the night sky shined over the two of you as you stood outside his doors, he leaned down and pressed a small kiss to your hand. Telling you how much of a pleasure it was to have you here, and how he wished you could stay longer.

Diluc even offered to walk you home, tediously not taking no for an answer, he reached down to take your hand and hold it the whole walk home.

Alhaitham was very closed off when he first met you, he was closed off with anyone in general. He found it strange that you always seemed to be there when he was thinking about you, and when his eyes would try and search a room in the akademiya for you.

He realized that something had to be done about this, so, he did what any other raging nerd would do, and researched about it.

You also found it odd when you'd see him looking at you from across the library, or holding the door open for you whenever you'd walking behind him. Alhaitham always seemed like the guy who only cared about his own, yet he was so evident in helping you out here and there.

Helping you when you'd be confused about a book, rewording your essays to make them better. Alhaitham seemed to want to assist you with almost everything. This was no different than today.

You found yourself back at the library looking down at a long-written parchment on the forest rangers' activities. Trying to figure out how you could make this work in the essay you were conducting on Sumeru's forest.

This was when you heard the chair scrap right next to you, and looked up from where you had originally been focused. Alhaitham took his seat next to you, slightly taking up more space than necessary with his manspreading.

"Do you need help with that? It looks like a longer report than usual for you."

"Longer than usual?" You shot back, "Are you saying that I'm not capable of reading this?" His eyes widened a bit and he instantly tried to retort his original statement. "No, no, I thought- Well- You know you usually read shorter reports in order to get more details. I didn't think you'd take something this large to account."

His confession made you smile, and you leaned in closer, "How'd you know how I like my reports?" At the response with your cheeky grin, a blush formed on his cheeks before he looked away.

"Scholars are supposed to be attentive, it's natural to know a few things you prefer in order to work best with you."

The response he sent back your way caused you to roll your eyes and turn back to what you were originally doing. "To answer your question, no, I do not need help, but thank you for offering."

That didn't seem to make him budge, because he kept sitting there watching you copy down and write words from the book.

"You misspelled climate."

The sound of a book colliding with his head echoed throughout the library.

Ayato enjoyed your company, a lot, so much that he seeks you out anytime he and his sister go down to festivals or strolls through the city. He always wanted to start up a conversation with you, and if anyone else walked by anytime he'd be down there, Ayato would be right next to you listening with a smile at whatever you said.

Ayaka loved you too and found it amusing that her brother was so interested in you. She often found herself trying to spark up conversations with you, asking if her older brother proposed yet in a joking manner.

You laughed it off, Ayato was nice but you were sure he had other rich and important people to concern his love life with. He was just a very nice man to talk with here and there, and you didn't seem to notice that you were one of the few he'd actually seek out.

That was, until, every time he saw you, he came with some form of jewelry or expensive item to give you. Asking you how your day was, what you were doing, and if you wanted to come to spend some time up at the estate with him.

"What about Ayaka?" You said with a tilt of your head in confusion. He smiled back and said, "I'm sure she'd rather stay down here and explore more of the shops.

Ayaka would have loved to come along, but before she could even turn around, the two of you were already heading back up to the estate.

He catered to you, made sure you were comfortable, and even asked if you'd like anything from his personal chefs. It was a bit much to handle, seeing as you weren't used to living so luxurious, but he was very nice about it all and understood.

The catering didn't stop after that day either, more and more people began to wonder why the Kamisato siblings were spending so much more time outside their palace. Ayaka once mentioned that you loved a certain color, and the next day Ayato was handing you a box with that color, and a necklace with the pearl containing that color too.

He even found himself marching over to you when he saw someone speaking to you in a more flirtatious matter. Moving next to you and asking if everything was alright while his hand wrapped around your own.

#ayato imagines #diluc imagines #alhaitham imagines #zhongli imagines #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #zhongli x reader #ayato x reader #alhaitham x reader #diluc x reader

[igotanidea]

Family rules: Damian Wayne x reader

Christmas bingo day 23 : midnight kiss

The first time she truly understood the meaning of the proverb heart over mind was on a school trip in September.

He was just standing by the wall, doing nothing except staring into space with those piercing green eyes.

Such pretty eyes

Such devilish, snake eyes.

Acting like he was who knows who.

Arrogant, cold, keeping his distant, rough, self-absorbed, not caring about anything or anyone.

Just like his father.

Damian Wayne.

***

Y/N had the misfortune of being born into a technological company family. Obviously she didn’t know it when she was a kid, but the word Wayne was inflected in her home on all occasions.

Wayne this, Wayne that...

 sort of spell or- more likely - a curse.

Damn it!

She was 12 when she gathered enough courage to ask her father what this was about. A mistake she only made once, cause even the mention of the Bruce Wayne and his famous, profitable company made her father see red.

That's how she found about the on-going competition between her father and Damian's one.

Obviously it was not like she was excluded from family rules and allowed to live in a bubble. Y/N was supposed to hate the entire Wayne family, the progenitor, his adopted kids and everyone who even came close to them. The only blood son included.

The only problem?

Said blood son was attending the same school, the same class as Y/N was. Which meant a lot of time spend together.

And you just command a teenager to do something and hope they'll listen. It's pretty much impossible, if not foolish belief.

***

In her defence - she tried.

She really tried to hate Damian.

But for five years, his name has been coming to her from every way on every occasion.

Wayne this, Wayne that.

Damn it!!

She could tear her hair out in utter desperation. How was she supposed to not think about him when all the world seemed to be dead set to remind her of his existence.

Of his stupid, unnecessary existence.

With his stupid, idiotic smile and his ridiculous handsome face and infuriating behaviour and the tendency to just be mean all the fucking time.

The internal fight between what she felt and how she acted made her clench her fist and grit her teeth every time Damian came into her view. The little bastard has been doing it on purpose just to see her flustered and enraged. It was like he was trying this best to show his superiority and just rub it into her face.

„L/N.”

„The hell you want Wayne?”

„Will you be attending this year’s New Year's Eve?”

„Will I what now?” she raised her gaze, unable to hide the confusion.

„want me to spell it out for you or something”?”

„Hm.” she muttered „I had no idea you knew how to do that Wayne.”

„I;m only telling you because I know you have problems with reading.”

„Clearly you have a problem with understanding simple things.”

„What I understand is that your father was left out when the invitations were being send. Are you finally going bankrupt”

„You little piece of-!” before she could stop herself her palm met with his cheek with a loud slap.

Shit.

He got exactly what he wanted. Provoked her and got the awaited reaction. She exposed herself, cause acting so dramatically only proved her contradictory, violent emotions he evoked in her.

„Nice one. Didn’t think you had it in you.” he wiped the little drop of blood she drew with her nails.

„Trust me I had it in me ever since you invaded the class.”

„I’ll let you make it even when you invade Wayne Manor for the party.”

„Though you said my family wasn’t invited?”

„It’s a charitable thing to open the door for the poor. I’ll see to it personally.”

„Such a generosity on your part, Mr. Wayne.” she rolled her eyes. „You can take your fake bounty and shove it up-”

„I can’t wait till you meet Todd. You two have so much in common.”

„Your older brother? Yeah, from what I heard you two have quite a rocky relationship. Maybe we’ll gang up on you.”

„Can’t wait.” Damian laughed dryly and with a mischievious glint in his eyes walked away not bothering to say another word.

***

„I;m not going.”

„You;re going.”

„I am so not going!”

„You don’t have a say in the matter!”

„Last year you said that new year’s party is not a place for kids!”

„You’re not a kid!”

„I’m 17! I;m a kid!”

„You ran away from home few months ago. You’re not a kid. You’re going. End of discussion.”

„If I’m not a kid then how come I can’t make a decision on this?” she smiled at her father with absolutely innocent eyes, pointing out all the holes in his logic.

Well-

He didn’t take her defiance in a good way.

Almost dragging her to the wayne manor, but dragging nevertheless.

***

Vomiting.

That’s how she felt entering the place,

Running away.

That’s how she felt walking up the steps and being thrown to the sharks when all the gazes landed on her and her father.

Hiding.

That’s how she felt when the gravity of being judged only based on her clothes and outlook sunk in.

Instead Y/N was forced to fake a smile, dance and do the rounds pretending to have fun.

All for the glory and good publicity of her father’s company.

Worst part?

He has been watching.

Like a predator in the darkness, waiting to strike when she was least suspecting it.

„Mr L/N.” Damian crept behind the girl and her father and she was sure he only did it on purpose to startle her. „Would you mind if I steal your daughter for a dance.

The tragicomic of the situation was truly poetic.

Her father went pale. Then red. His jaw got tense. Then loose. And then he smiled forcefully nodding his head, unable to say the dreaded yes. Apparently being torn between the devil (his daughter dancing with the son of his archenemy) and the deep blue sea (offending the host) was too much to handle.,

Too bad, Y/N had no chance to object or get away before Damian led her to the dancefloor.

„It’s not XVIth century Wayne, women can make their own decisions.” she hissed not really happy about his hands circling around her waist.

„Then run away if that’s what you want. I dare you.”

„I’m not going to make a scene here!”

„thought so.” he chuckled, capably leading her in the dance.

„what the hell is that supposed to mean!?”

„absolutely nothing.”

„I’ve known you for five years. There’s never nothing with you Damian.”

‘You used my name, Y/N.”

‘And you repeated my mistake.”

„Maybe it’s not a mistake?” he pulled her slightly closer, causing her to let out an involuntarily gasp. „I’m just saying-”

„I’m supposed to hate you.” she whispered making a turn and then a swirl

„So you don’t.” this was not a question but a statement, his hands trembling slightly. It was hard for him to keep the attitude while dealing with a whirlwind inside. He was 17 and liked a girl, having no idea how to behave to not make a fool out of himself, get embarrassed and lose in her eyes.

„don’t let it get into your head.” she whispered pressing herself closer to his body. They were dancing and it was only because of that.

„Me?” Damian smiled but it came unnoticed due to her head leaning on his shoulder „I think you’re the one who’s fantasising.”

„You sure you’re not hoping for a midnight kiss?” she mocked

„Are you?”

„no.”

„me neither.”

Bruce and f/n were carefully watching their kids.

Damian and Y/n couldn’t care less.

Family drama and conflicts seemed light years away at that moment.

 Future could be figured out later.

Part 2: moment of weakness

#damian wayne x reader #robin x reader #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #robin x you #robin x y/n #damian wayne fluff #christmas bingo #batfamily x reader

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Black Metal and Bourbon (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Biker/Mechanic!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Bartender!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 8.1k

WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, drug usage, mentions of sex & intimacy, dark jokes/dirty jokes, rumors, gossip, past toxic relationship, a shitty Ex, protective!Simon, etc. (18+ mini-series)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You slapped the damp rag back into the bar top, the fabric heavy with spilled alcohol and other fluids that you didn’t even want to try and think about. 

“Jesus.” Your muscles ache, neck stiff from having to try and slap a dart from the ceiling where some jackass had been too drunk to attempt and hit the target. The thing was still up there, as you weren’t about to spend your entire night fruitlessly attempting to fix someone else's blurry mistakes. 

You glare over your shoulder, seeing the unconscious form of the man in question being dragged out by his friends presently, his slurring chuckles making him sound like a drowning elephant. Intoxicated yells of goodbye attached to your name make you roll your eyes slowly as they begin being said; you push through the waist-height door to allow you behind the front counter. Your middle finger flips the patrons off before boisterous flirting hits the air.

“C’mon baby, don’t be like that—!” Is cut off by the slam of the front doors and you couldn’t be more happy that your boss hadn’t gotten the bolts tightened. 

“Don’t get paid enough…” You grumble, eyes slithering over to the tip jar and seeing the overflow of bills and coins as your fingers wrap the neck of a bottle of Vodka. 

The profit would be split with your coworker even if she’d been gone for more than half a night getting railed by her new boy toy. You can still remember the look she’d given you as she’d walked out during rush hour, her sharp smirk and smug sheen of ‘you won’t say anything, will you?’

Grumbling under your breath, you slip the Vodka back into its slot on the wall racks, while telling yourself you can’t drink on the job; trying to forget the face of the man that had been attached to hers before they’d stumbled to the back alley.  

“Graham Whitaker, you’re such a five-cent sell-out,” you shake your head, sighing heavily into the air that smells like booze and sweat. 

Graham Whitaker—your Ex in every sense. 

You decided to tell your coworker, if she ever showed back up, that the only reason she was getting dicked-down was because it was that man’s plan to try and make you jealous. As if you’d be caught with your pants down over a prick that had cheated on you more times than you could count before you threw his ass out. 

“Not my problem anymore,” your hands move to display themselves in a motion of a settled disagreement before wiping them on your black pants. 

It was late now, of course, with the dart-drunk and his friends being the last patrons that you had to serve. But you’d been in this town a long, long time. 

Sorrel the construction worker came in an hour, Miss Anna-Lee accompanying for her nightly Gin and Tonic before she talked about her late love from the seventies. From there it was three more regulars before closing activities and fighting to get up tomorrow by noon only to do it all over again. 

Over and over and over. 

You lean back on the counter and look across the brown wood and warm overhead lights, behind you, the illumination from the drink rack gives off a dead glow. 

This was your workplace since you'd been of age, and over the years that seemed to drag, here is where you’d stayed. Nothing ever changed in this town—the biggest shock was when you’d broken up with Graham; people hadn’t stopped talking about it for months.

This place was like a prison of slow death and abandoned dreams. Safe to say this was not what you had envisioned for yourself.

You scoff, pushing off the back counter and snatching your rag back up before you can spiral once more.

The stains weren’t going to buff themselves out.

Maybe it was chance that the mechanics shop across the street had shut down, too few employees and too many drug busts. Chance, or fate, whichever it was you chose to believe in that still-air Sunday, it was still a shock to you when you looked out the front window as Sorrel called goodnight through his heavy accent. 

‘SOLD’

“Sold?” Sorrel pauses with one foot out of the door, and he chuckles when he sees where you’re looking in shock, your hand holding a dirty glass. 

“Haven’t heard, then? Few newcomers snuck in under our noses—they’ll be running the place; mechanics!” 

“New?” You laugh. “Who in their right mind would come here of all places?” 

Sorrel shakes his head, grumbling as he pulls a cigarette from his pocket. “You’ll just have to meet ‘em, Doll. Sure you’ll leave a glowing impression.”

“Take that shit outside, you ass. You know I hate the smell.” A smirk graces your dead eyes. 

“Like I said. Glowing.” You glare, but the man slips out of the door quickly and his form passes by the window outside to climb into his truck parked in the street. Two honks from the horn and the older man is off, grizzly-like beard gone just like your boredness. 

New arrivals? 

You blink at the blackened shadows of the street, illuminated by the lights and their tall tree-like bases—the sway of the planted bushes in the boxes outside. Your head tilts at the abyssal building that was once in working order. 

It was a shitshow now, years of abandonment not giving it any helping hand regarding upkeep. The concrete was cracked, the garage door was hanging off of one side, and the front windows had been broken by your Ex’s buddies when they had gotten into a fight like the three-year-olds they were. 

You hum lowly. A hard-chucked set of keys, you recalled. You’d seen it from here easily enough. Hadn't lied to Sheriff Russel when he’d come knocking, and, you suppose, that was why even now the immature posse still tried to scare you by following you home at night to this day.

As if everyone didn’t know where everyone else lived already. 

But back to the current interest for the night. 

“Let’s have a little look-see, then,” you breathe, knowing Miss Anna-Lee would be a good while away like always. You could chance five minutes—it was just across the street after all. 

Shuffling outside, making sure to hold the door until it closes slowly, you step down the single step and stick your hands into your pockets. The night wasn’t hot or cold, simply there like a metaphorical cut on your palm; it wasn’t surprising the more you lived with it, but it still made your skin itch. 

Feet padding, you cross the dead street and take in the long stretch of unkempt grass, stepping onto the broken curb as your shoes crunch broken glass. Long-gone cigarette butts are scattered here and there, the occasional stray bit of metal or trash. Your eyes shift slowly from one brick that makes up the frame to another, the peeling blue color that could use touching up. 

The mural you had painted in middle school had faded a long time ago, just like the great expectations of going into an art career. The eyes of a great gray wolf are only a dark outline that you can’t help but stare at as if a cancer was growing in your brain, hidden behind the reach of green ivy. 

Ripping your eyes away, you ignore the cry of tires from across the town and the pop of an exhaust pipe—the roar of either a car chase by the repeat offender Irene Chaney, or by some stupid kid related to Irene Chaney. 

“She’s gonna wreck one of these days,” you breathe, looking down at your object of intention—the sold sign in all of its red and white glory. 

Your hand snakes out and grabs the cheap plastic, stopping its swaying with a creak and a tilt of your head. 

You just couldn’t understand it—who in their right mind would buy this place? The only thing it would be good as is rubble, at least then some rabbit could make its very dusty home here. 

Sorrel had mentioned multiple people too. 

“Must be up at the B&B then,” your voice carries over the space, the stars twinkling above you as a shadow stands at the end of the cracked driveway. Its hands are in its pockets, tall form bulky with the dark brown leather jacket around its intimidating form. You’re none the wiser, letting the sign drop as you put your hands to your hips. “They better not be fuckin’ dickheads—”

“Mind explainin’ to me why I came to get a drink and now I’m talkin’ to some Bird on my property?” 

You startle, gasp peeling out of your lips as your head swivels as if attached to a string which, in turn, tracks back to the source of a heavy Manchester accent. Grass breaks under your feet, as the gravel of the tone makes you cringe. Your eyes lock on the man who looks like he just came back from a warzone. 

The first thing you noticed was the balaclava and the skeleton detailing, of course, how could you not—the lower half was an inch below those October eyes of the deepest shade of brown you’d ever witnessed. 

Your spine straightens in cautious surprise, hiding the way your hands had clenched as if ready to swing on your Ex if he so happened to be there instead of…this person. 

“Excuse me?” You say, quickly, as if it was forced out instead of a scream. Your face pushes that stern expression back to your face as your throat clears out the hoarseness.

A covered head tilts with its small sliver of pale flesh visible to you—the strong bones of his nose bridge and hidden jawline. The bulk of large muscles and thighs spoke to hard labor, and his booted feet shifted below loose black cargo pants. 

The mask alone caused you a hint of worry in those few seconds of fast study of this phantom’s anatomy. 

He blinks at you slowly, raising the small corner of a dark brow from a respectable distance away.

“Said you’re trespassing, yeah?” Your face gains a sheen of heat, and you glance at your bar behind the stranger, at the bright burn of the lights. 

Taking a stiff breath, your lips pull into a frown as you try to hide your embarrassment.

“Well…a holler would have been just fine.” A fake glare is put on. “What’s with sneaking up on a woman in the middle of the night? Are you some creep or something?”

Those dark eyes stay locked on yours, and for a moment you don’t know if you’ve encountered a statue or not because he doesn’t speak for a moment. 

A puff of breath from his nose. 

“You the bartender, then?” You motion to your nametag above your left breast and grunt. His gaze homes in before he simply says, “Good.”

Without another word, the man turns stiffly before he steadily begins making his way back to the bar; crossing the street with a swift check of the road. You watch him saunter off, jaw slackened and your cheeks hot. The span of his shoulder blades levels out as he rolls his shoulders. 

Where did this guy even come from? The answer was simple, the bed and breakfast was only four buildings down and to the left. Guy must have come in for a late-night serenade with a bottle.

A quick glance is thrown back to the rundown property behind you before you growl and hurry after this individual who currently pushes open the faulty doors of your work. Jogging across the asphalt, you catch the thing right before it closes and slip inside with a puff of air and a shoved-down snap of a sarcastic ‘thanks’. 

Yet, the man is already pulling back one of the bar stools and easing into it when you make it behind the counter. You study him yet again. 

“You’re one of the new mechanics?” Brown-Eyes blinks at you. 

Without missing a beat, he goes, “Bourbon—Kentucky.”

“I asked a question,” you cross your arms, not even for a moment looking away as the silence of the bar sneaks in around you and this strange creature. “Least you can do for a lady is answer it when you act like a damn cat and sneak up on her.”

“You were on my property.” This is leveled out through a grunt, and after a moment of staring, you scoff. 

“I was curious about who had bought such a piece of junk. Guess I have my answer.” Your hand grabs the bottle of Kentucky Bourbon, the amber liquid inside sloshing as you turn back and put it into the wood. There’s a fraction of a dead tease that makes the man seem more human than he looks.

“Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine?”

“I prefer a solar flair.” You comment dryly and set an engraved glass next to the bottle. Something flickers past the mechanic’s eyes, a quirk to the fabric of his balaclava. 

“On The Rocks or Neat?” Your brow raises and you tilt your head. 

“That even a bloody question? Neat.” You snort, splaying your hands before you grab the bottle as he watches you blankly. 

“Sorry, it's kind of my job to ask.” Your hand shifts and you pour a reasonable amount into the glass, knowing exactly when to stop. As you shift the bottle away, you leave it on the bar top and gently push the beverage to him as his gloved fingers take it up. You repress a small smile at the matching bone gloves to go with the detailing on his balaclava.

“Bartenders always have this much attitude?” The glass is kept in front of his person, carefully held in his large grip. 

Moving back, you go to lean on the back counter. This night was quickly taking an interesting turn. “Only if they’re me.” You sigh. “You have a name, then, Brown-Eyes?” 

The individual snorts at the title, but his eyes narrow on you at the same time as if he was held hesitant at the ability for you to make him. He had an air of casual tension around him, like a dog on a thin leash that can only just manage to meet others and stay his fangs. 

Danger, you pinpoint. The man felt like danger. A riptide; surface tension.

Then why was it that you felt more and more intrigued by the second?

“Simon Riley,” he eases, staring with those numb eyes of his before he tips the glass slightly your way. With the thumb on the same hand that holds the bourbon, he hooks it under his face covering and pulls it up until he can connect the glass to his lips and take down a sip as his Adam’s apple bobs in a swallow. 

On the way back, his thumb drags the fabric back to its previous position as if nothing had happened. The image of pale skin and stubble sticks with you, and your eyes shift away quickly without you realizing it as the glass is returned to the counter. 

“Well, Simon Riley,” you mutter, “welcome to nowhere.”

The man hums, eyes looking you over in a single glance before the gaze shifts to the wall behind your head. He says nothing, and the door opens to the next three familiar customers as you move to take their order. As you slip out from behind the barrier, you grumble under your breath before you slip past Simon to the corner booth. 

“For the record, Riley, I do enjoy seein’ that old place getting taken on. Don’t run it into the ground, would you? And if you need a fresh coat of paint, for the love of all things holy, don’t go down to the Schafersons’ place, you come right to me.” 

Walking casually, you greet the three ladies from the downtown library with a smirk and an easy comment about if their husbands knew they were out so late, to which you promptly got cursed out on good faith. Sharing a few chuckles, you get them started on what they need, all the while feeling those brown orbs now following subtly from the side of their sockets, intrigued. 

Simon wasn’t sure what to make of you, and the same could be said about this town as a whole. A woman with such a future trapped behind her eyes, adventure in her blood, why were you here in a place with nothing promised for it except dying businesses and old faces? This was a place where people came to hang up the coat, not try and rip it off of its peg. 

The children born here with ambitions leave, that was the common denominator. Even Simon could see that. But you? Here you were. 

The man peels his eyes away, taking up his glass again and re-hooking his thumb to his mask. Amber liquid seeps into his mouth, pulling the scars on his lips and cheeks as he swallows it down as easily as water. The bourbon pools in his stomach, sending its honied effects to the back of his mind; it would take much more to get drunk, but that wasn’t what Simon was looking for. 

Perhaps he was just out tonight wondering why he’d left the military for a mechanic’s job and come out here—asking anything for a sign that this was the right decision even as his head echoed with the screams and the gunfire. 

And then he’d seen you standing in front of the fuckin’ worst mechanics shop he’d ever seen that he’d signed the property deed for not three hours ago. Hell, he hadn’t even looked at the place before buying it—Price was responsible for the official financial actions, and the man had made him swear that it was worth it.

But fuck, he’d just needed a way out of the city. Too loud, too unpredictable in that previous shop of theirs right by the busy street. MacTavish and Garrick had been easy to convince; they’d all served together before and had no family over here either. 

A new start thousands upon thousands of miles away. 

Your head pulls up from where you chat with the librarians, hearing the slam of the door as the draft wafts in from outside—a small breeze has picked up. 

Inside walks in your very ruffled, and very well-pleased, coworker, Celina Bell. 

She brushes down her top and black skirt, blinking around with blown pupils until her eyes lock on you. A poisonous smile meets your eyes as you raise a brow slowly—Lord, if this girl didn’t realize that fucking your Ex over some workplace squabble wasn’t something to be proud of, she was really a lost cause. 

Simon only glances over his shoulder before turning back around and tapping his fingers against his glass absentmindedly. 

“You alright?” You ask out of due diligence, sparing the ladies an apology look for them being interrupted. 

“Better than alright,” Celina chuckles, walking over with a limp in her step. “Just scored Graham Whitaker.” She fake pauses, blinking as if in realization that a child would know was taking the piss. Your face is stuck in the expression of boredom. “Wait…you two were involved for a few years, right? Oh, I’m really sorry—I had no clue.”

“Yeah,” you look her up and down and blink at the disheveledness. “Sure. Quite the score.” A pause, her lips pulling back into that smug smirk that reminds you of a weasel. Yet your next words leave her face devoid of blood. “You know he got Chlamydia from Stacy Green a week ago, right?”

A pin could be heard dropping. Brown eyes are firmly stuck to the scene, unsure what to make of it. The ladies stifle their laughter.

“...W-what?”

“Y’know,” you motion a hand to her lower body, walking past her back to the bar. “STD. Chlamydia. Results in—”

“I know what the fuck an STD is, you bitch.”

“Woah,” you whistle, “language.” Your body returns to the counter as loud stuttering is left behind you, the frantic patting of a pocket to look for a phone before enraged feet rush to the exit. “Need a refill, Riley?”

“It can wait,” Simon utters slowly. The door slams shut.

You chuckle, shrugging. “Alright, suit yourself.” 

The man takes the names you drop and files them away, slotting them into his mental database for when he needs to work with these people. Yet, there’s already a sour impression just off of comments alone. Who better to get your news from than a bartender? 

You know everyone's dirty little secrets.

You diligently serve the drinks to the librarians, placing them down carefully before Simon once more has a re-filled glass of his drink. He moves it slightly up in a cheer and gives you a stare as you wipe your hands with a clean rag.

“Seems you know everything ‘round ‘ere.” His accent is what draws you in, and you find yourself eager to hear more from him. 

“I’m easy to talk to,” you respond, shrugging and leaning on the counter a foot or two away as you both watch the other. A smirk overtakes your features. “And I am the one that gives people the drinks.”

“So, what I’m hearing,” Simon raises a brow. “Is that you get ‘em dunker than a man on his execution date.” 

You click your tongue, tilting your head in a teasing manner while maintaining a serious face. 

“Afraid you’ll spill your secrets, Riley?” 

His eyes flash at you, and his lips flicker into a smirk you can hear in his voice. 

“It’ll take more than two glasses of Bourbon to get me talking, Sunshine.” 

Your face shifts away, but the sudden fight with a smile leaves you nearly breathless. 

Who is this man?

“Why are you here,” your question meets his ears as he takes back the last of his drink, stomach filled for the night and his searching, for the moment, abated. 

The glass meets the bar top. 

He grunts. “Needed a drink.”

Your lips pull in annoyance. “You know what I mean. You’re terrible at answering questions.”

“Hm, maybe.”

“Fuck off,” you grumble, shaking your head as a low chuckle makes your insides swirl. 

A stack of bills is placed on the counter, and the man stands, grabbing the hood of his black sweatshirt and pulling it up. His gloved hands go to the pockets of his leather jacket with a roll of his wide shoulders. From under the hood, the white of the painted mask glares out from under the shadows that now shroud him. 

You both sneak a glance at the mechanic's shop—a clear view from the front window. 

“See you around, then?” Your head is tilted at him, blinking. You hum under your breath. “I’m going to keep asking you why you showed up in this town, Riley, and I won’t stop until I get an answer.”

Simon quirks a brow, eyes glinting with interest. When was the last time someone had spoken to him like this outside of his boys?

“Look forward to it,” he utters slowly. With a blink and one more dead look, he’s already out the front door and walking back down the street—disappearing like a ghost the same way he had appeared. 

Picking up his cash and counting through it, the librarians across the way snicker, and one calls out, “So, the new mechanic, huh?”

“One more peep and I’m doubling your tab.”

But…you did have to admit, he had been charming…hadn’t he? At least someone here could juggle your attitude.

—

Three days pass with no sighting of Simon Riley, but just because you didn’t see him doesn’t mean you weren’t witness to his aftermath. 

The shop across the street was practically fixed up while you were asleep. 

Where there had been overgrown grass, there was now a cut lawn getting watered by the reach of an angry sprinkler. The fast movement of the spray reaches the sidewalk that was, somehow, still there under all that trash hiding away like a criminal. Stray bricks are gone and stacked into a pile as you pause outside the bar, staring wide-eyed with your breath caught in your throat in the late morning air. 

The ivy over your mural was peeled back—that faded wolf’s gaze locking with yours, unyielding to the calls of time as its canid body stool as a silent sentinel. 

But, on the third day, as you’re going on break before the night sets in, you manage to not only see Simon again but meet two of the other men who’d moved here.

You pick up your feet and jog across the street, hopping the curb as you blink, impressed at the open garage with its fixed and oiled bay door. Inside it was still dusty—remnants of what was left behind in the corners and scattered. But it was getting there. Quickly. 

“Didn’t know Simon was goin’ to sign on such a piece of rusted shite—where’s the fuckin’ outlets?” Gritted Scottish. You stick your hands into your pockets and enter the large opening. 

“If I remember,” you speak, finding the two men standing slightly off to the side as the bulkier one with a mohawk carries a series of extension cords. Cobalt and brown eyes dart to you in shock—the second man of darker complexion sharing a glance with the other in swift confusion. “When you manage to find them, they’ll all be burst.” 

Blank stares are sent your way. 

“Kids would come by and watch ‘em spark when they were bored. No one really cared enough to stop them.” A clearing of a throat meets your ears as you study the room more. 

It was small, with only one main garage for all the repairs, but that wasn’t new to you. The motorcycles were, though. 

Five in total all parked and resting next to one another near the back wall, all in varying shades of black and gray. Your lips twitch at the sight, imagining your late-night acquaintance riding one of them—you dare say that it fit him quite well, and you weren’t that surprised at all by this.

Biker mechanics. It fits the script. 

“Who’s this then?” The Scot asks you, raising a brow as a friendly smirk pulls his mouth up. “Can’t remember bookin’ any repairs today, Ma’am, might have to wait a few more days before we get it all up and runnin’.”

“I can see. No, I work just across the street,” you spare a friendly smile. 

“So you’re the bartender? The bartender.” The second man speaks, grinning kindly as he searches through a toolbox on a small table. He hums, looking playful. “So that’s why Ghost was gone so long.” 

Ghost…? Did they mean Simon?

The skeletal accents suddenly make far more sense.

“Johnny MacTavish,” A hand is leveled out ahead of you, and you take it casually with a muttering of your own name. “Soap’s just fine as well.” 

Your brow quirks, but you only share an amused nod.

The other individual stands and makes his way over, tall and leaner as to where Soap’s more blatant strength is. 

“Kyle Garrick—Gaz. Pleasure.” 

“Just came over to introduce myself,” your hand shifts back into your pockets as you motion with your head back to the bar. “I’m on my break.” 

“Ah,” Soap’s hands move the cables he holds as he loops them into a more storable shape vertically around his elbow and palm. “Last one to meet then is Price—man’s in town gettin’ lunch for us,” he grunts under his breath. “Hopefully a damn set of zip-ties, too.”

“Zip-ties, Mate?” Gaz breathes a chuckle with a fix of the backward ball cap on his head. “C-4 would bloody help more. At least then we can have a clean starting point.” 

“I think we’re fresh out of C-4, unfortunately,” you huff a laugh, motioning around as the men smirk at you, Johnny snorting a chuckle. “You guys have done a pretty good job so far. I can’t remember when it looked this nice in here.”

“Well, we’re honored, Bonnie,” Soap tilts his head as he ties off the cord with one of the ends. “Makin’ me blush.”

“If Simon had just looked at the place before buying it, we might have been able to open sooner.” Gaz huffs, thinning his lips as he glances over the broken window and the peeling paint—the door to the main lobby that has a punched dent in it. “Couldn’t be worse.”

“Well then it can only get better,” you breathe, shrugging. 

Gaz huffs affectionately. “Not wrong there, then.”

You lean forward, tilting your head. “You’ll find I rarely am.”

“Second time you’ve snuck on,” a Manchester accent scares you once more, head snapping to the side as the light spills in from the garage opening. “This a pattern, Sunshine?”

Simon’s brows are raised as those October eyes lock with yours. Gaz and Soap share a look, smirking before the Scot peels off to find a place to store his belongings. 

“Where have you been?” Gaz asks as you glare at the masked man for once again coming up behind you. 

A bag is presented, leaning off three fingers as a glance gets thrown past you. 

“Down the street. Needed these made.” The bag is tossed and Kyle catches it easily. 

You watch as the crinkly plastic is opened and the dark fabric of four black pairs of overalls is produced, each embroidered with their respective names. 

“What’s wrong with the old ones?” Johnny pipes up, brows furrowed. 

“Looks like you got fuckin’ mugged in ‘em.” Simon slides his attention back to you as Johnny curses with a glint of amusement in his blues. 

“Aren’t open yet.” Your face peels back to a stiff annoyance. 

“I can see that, Riley.” You motion to the other men. “I was being polite.”

He grunts while walking past, muttering through a brief smirk, “Doubt that.” 

Your jaw slackens, but you only growl and hold your tongue as you glance the mechanic over. He still had his leather jacket, but a loose shirt took the place of a hoodie. 

“You ready to answer my question?” Simon locks those eyes with yours from over his shoulder before sliding up to the black form of one of the motorcycles. 

Visible to the naked eye, you take in the lack of fairings around the frame—eyeing the pure black metal of the entire engine from any angle that you might move to you’d still be able to see. It was nice. Perfect, even; damn expensive too. While the thought was enticing, you can’t imagine Simon riding it—he seemed more rugged, more…classy. 

“Negative.” You roll your eyes, but Soap speaks before you can retort. 

“Finally takin’ out the CB1000R, Ghost? ‘Bout time.” The brute throws a blank look at the Scot as Gaz utters to you a few feet away before a casual ‘no’ is leveled out through the space.

“He got it months ago,” Kyle’s eyes crinkle. “Can’t seem to take it out for a ride yet. No one knows what he’s waiting on.”

“Can’t say I blame him,” your words confide. “It’s beautiful.”

“It was a fucking fortune—no use collecting dust is what I say.” You hum, shifting back to Simon who taps the seat of the CB1000R before moving past it to an older cruiser with dents and dirt along the sides. This was more him you thought. Rugged and more dated than the first; something you use on long rides to nowhere.

“Maybe he’s just waiting for a special occasion,” you guess.

“Better get on with it.” Gaz moves away with a shrug and a huff. 

Your lips pull in a small smile, and you watch Simon pull keys from his jacket and insert them as he moves to straddle the larger body of the cruiser, easing into it slowly. Staring, you think about how far that bike could take you—what you could see with it on the open road of possibilities and whipping air. Where would you go? Anywhere. Anywhere and everywhere. 

Eyes shifting away from the motorcycle, they widen as they softly meet Simon’s own—locked for a moment in a staring contest. His lids barely pull down, studying something. You clear your throat and exhale.

Sensing your company was most likely a hindrance at this point, you turn to leave as the engine flares—you wave easily behind your back with a call of well-wishes.

“Come have a drink one time, boys, yeah? I need stories that come from strangers for once.” A ruckus of ‘affirmatives’ and ‘will do, Ma’ams’ sparks up from Johnny and Kyle as you exit to the roar of the motorcycle behind you, your feet kicking a stray rock into the grass before you make it to the curb. 

Before you can cross, a steel body blocks your path. 

“I’ll be needing a drink later tonight, then.” Simon watches from atop his seat, one booted foot to the ground to steady himself as he comes to a slow halt. His fingers curl the handles, twitching.

“Let me guess,” you tilt your head, smirking, “Bourbon?”

“A woman after my own heart,” he draws numbly, October browns as dead as mulch. As dead as dirt.

“And do you have a heart, Simon Riley?” You question, blinking at him as your mind tells you to walk away. Your brain doesn’t need a repeat of Graham—you already had enough problems on your plate right now besides some attraction to this stranger. This push and pull made your heart jerk, even when you know it shouldn’t.

You’d only just met him.

The man hums, thighs shifting on the black metal frame. He says the easiest answer he can. 

“A cold one.” 

Pushing on the ground, he takes off down the road back into the main town for whatever errand he was on this time. Your eyes follow until the figure is no more than a memory of the smell of oil and the metallic tinge of caution.

—

You hated the smell of cigarette smoke. 

Like a pregnant woman’s aversion to the scent of meat, you grew nauseous at the very hint of cheap tobacco and paper on the air—loathed the burn of it. It had to do with your Ex, of course. The man had been a habitual chain smoker, lighting up one after the other until you had to leave his house entirely to puke on the front lawn. If you thought about it hard enough, you could still taste the ash on your tongue from when he kissed you after lighting up. 

But that was only one of the reasons you’d never moved in with him despite being together for years—the cheating was the other problem. 

Girl after girl, broken promise after broken promise, you’d still held onto him as if he deserved it. Hell, all that Graham Whitaker deserved were the copious amounts of STDs he probably had after sleeping with as many women as he could to try and get back at you. You didn’t have ample reason to ban him from the bar—him or his loud-mouth friends, you should say—so the problem, like a bad rash, persisted. Cars following you after work and all. 

But, the here, the now.

Simon had, in fact, come in for that drink that night—just as he had for the last week up until the grand opening of the boys’ shop. You’d both spoken throughout these encounters and formed some sarcastic and sly-looked bond that the other locals couldn’t understand. You had even learned about his military service. 

The both of you were just…different, people said. No one else really argued with it. 

You finally met John Price before the party that you’d heard from Simon that Soap and Gaz had been eager to host for the town—‘come meet the bastards that bought that old shitty building and see how they fixed it up all by themselves. You should come and give us your money.’

It was there that a proposal was offered. 

“Simon says you told him to come to you about paint.” John was late thirties, keeping a well-trimmed beard with a mustache that was the same shade of brunette as his head of hair. Tall, as well as built, he had found you as you were closing up the bar early for the town-wide party, Celina having already slipped out. 

You were dressed in a long skirt and a nice shirt for the occasion. 

“John Price, I’d imagine,” you comment, stuffing your keys into your pocket as your purse hangs from your shoulder. A throaty grunt tells you all you need to know as you move down the step. “Yeah, I did say that. Do you need some?” You look over his shoulder to the still peeling color on the outside of the bricks as the men are dragging out folding chairs and long tables. There was the clatter of laughter and loud calls. 

John’s blue eyes shift behind him, and he raises a brow slowly. 

“Thinkin’ we’d just hire you,” a side-eye. “If you’d be interested.” 

That was a surprise. 

You begin walking across the street, the man beside you and awaiting your answer. 

“Hire me?” Your voice asks, but you aren’t against the idea. “How do you know I’ll be any good at it,” you chuckle in question. 

“Simon says he found your initials next to the mural—the wolf.” Your feet pause, stuttering for a second before you catch yourself. The blood on your face stops its circulation in shock. “Not a bad piece, then.” John grunts. “...Think you can do a skull and wings?” 

So, you sat with your sketchbook in front of the wall, a portable camping chair below your bare feet as your legs folded under you. Your slip-on sneakers rest in the green grass, kicked off with a sigh. Blinking, the chatter and mumble from the party surround you in a sheen of community and calmness. You can pinpoint every voice, every story being re-told as if new news when it goes in one ear and out the other like a breeze on the wind. 

Humming under your breath as the sun is low in the sky, you hear the silent feet still from over your shoulder. A smirk flickers your lips.

“Snooping, Riley?” 

“My building.” He grumbles, “Seein’ what you plan to do to it.”

You snort, looking over your shoulder and smiling. “If I recall, you’re the one who took up my offer and told Price about it.” 

Simon was dressed in cargos and a compression shirt pushed up to his elbows, the swell of his forearms on full display along with the scars and…tattoos. You blink at them, the swirl of black skulls and guns; barbed wire and dog tags—the dark images that fit him as his motorcycles did on his left limb. Brown eyes flicker from yours to the painted wolf.

“Good at that,” the man says, balaclava shifting. 

Your expression slowly shifts to something far softer than you can remember it ever being; inside of your chest, your heart tightens. 

“Thank you.” 

He levels you, the corners of his eyes easing out of the numb nothingness to show something akin to shielded affection. Molten sunlight on the side of his face, making the color of his irises glow amber. Simon nods to your sketchbook, clearing his throat. 

“I able to see it, then, or is it some secret?” You huff.

“Come here,” your hand motions, palm brushing away eraser shavings as your fingers get stained with graphite. The shadow comes closer, leaning over you as the scent of oil pools in your gut. You blink at the side visage, swiftly looking back down to your sketchbook as a slight wind ruffles your skirt. 

“Price was talking about a skull with wings beside it—later on he made mention of a sword through the top.” While you explain the concept, you inadvertently study the tattoos on the flesh beside you, one scarred hand coming out to lightly grab the armrest of your chair as Simon leans even closer. 

As your face begins burning, breath caught in your throat, he blinks down at the image as he looms, head tilting. 

Simon breathes, chest rising and falling as his eyes go far off. You know the symbol means something, though you also have a good guess that it’s related to this group’s time in the service. 

He hums, and you see his lips open, the rough grate of his vocal cords as he begins to form words for you. 

“It’s—”

Your name is loudly called from across the way, both Simon’s and your heads snapping back as you both realize exactly how close you two have become. The stealing of the other’s warmth like wraiths of hidden longing ceases when you wrench your attention to the man you wished would leave you alone. 

Graham raises the dark bottle of a cheap beer from the dollar store in your direction, walking over. Now, your Ex wasn’t anything spectacular, but even you had to admit it was the best you could do around here if you didn’t want to date men only five years from the grave. Graham was tall, strong, and heavy-willed like a bear. In the day hours, he worked as a farmhand down the way. 

Your body tenses, eyes going tight. Simon sees.

“Who’s this,” he asks slowly, fingers twitching. 

“Ex,” you mutter, grimacing. “He’s going to make a scene.”

Already gazes had started drifting over, conversations lapsing into mute silence as orbs shifted to three different individuals all stuck in the same storm. 

Simon grunts, standing up to his full height and crossing his arms over his chest, legs shifting below him and thighs trading weight. His moving leaves half of you kept firmly behind him and your eyes study his stance as you notice that fact. You blink, and feel something stir in your ribcage, blooming like a flower. 

“Hey, Bartender!” Graham takes a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it as his fingers fumble over the neck of the bottle. “Though I’d seen you over here missing all the action. Nothing’s changed I see.” 

Your face pulls in with disgust.

“Graham, you’re drunk. Go home.” It was true—his words were slurring, his limbs loose with drink. He smirks at you, taking a drag of his cancer stick and puffing it directly at you. Your hand snaps to your nose to try and cover the horrendous smell.

“Nah,” he breathes. “I’m here with Celina, see’s a pretty nice lookin’ broad don’t you think? Not as good of a fuck as you, but, hey, I take what I get.” His expression shifts to hidden anger and Simon takes a heavy step forward before he can finish the rest of his sentence, hands shifting to grasp his biceps harder. Those browns simmer with low ferality—a warning.

The air gets heavy.

“Pretty good little lie you spread about me gettin’ that shit from Stacy.”

“That was a lie?” You drawl lazily and watch your Ex’s eyes flash with rage. But he should know you don’t take shit from him anymore. “Oh,” your fingers tighten over your flesh and make you sound stuffy. “Maybe I heard wrong, you’re right. You don’t have Chlamydia.” You glare. “It was Gonorrhea, wasn’t it?”

“Bitch!” Graham barks, moving forward, but before anyone can realize it, Simon already has him shoved back with a stone-like push to your Ex’s chest.

“Not smart, Mate.” The former soldier utters, arms falling back to his sides. The party by this point had entirely halted in sharp gasps and bated breath. 

Graham’s beer bottle shatters as it hits the ground, the grass not able to absorb the way it slams down to dirt. Your wide eyes stay stuck on Simon’s figure, who’s now entirely hiding your view of your Ex—the wide expansive back that shows the writhe of his shoulder blades and how his spine shifts under the tight shirt. 

Your hand lowers from your face.

“What the fuck?!” Graham spits. “You made me drop my fucking drunk, man!”

“Be thankful that was all, yeah?” Simon’s dead voice is a cold chill on a winter evening. Any sane person would turn and leave immediately. “Cut your losses.”

No one breaths for a long minute, and you can see the other new mechanics inching closer from the sides. All of the locals are deep into the scene, fingers to their lips in surprise. There’s going to be talk tomorrow—the bar will be busy. 

“Graham,” you try to sway the pig-headed man once more from behind Simon. “Go home.”

“So this is what I get,” your Ex spits, head trying to peek over the larger man’s frame to look at you. Simon’s hands clench into tight fists. “I’m with you for years and this is how you treat me? I gave you everything!”

“Those are years that I never want to think about again,” you say with a stiff finality. “And it’ll be a cold day in hell before you ever see me worrying about where you are or who you fuck.” 

Knowing that the situation is over and done with, Simon takes a single step forward and leans into the man. 

“You heard ‘er,” he levels, unblinking. “Scatter.” Simon’s accent made it sound more like a threat, but maybe it was. 

Graham growls and takes a long drag from his cigarette, staring Simon down. 

“Fuck you, you piece of shit.” But all he does is turn sharply on his heel and stomp away, crossing the street to his truck before he opens and closes the door with a violent slam. From across the way, Celina gasps and calls his name, but the engine has already started and Graham is down the road with a roar from the exhaust. 

Everyone is watching you and Simon, and the staring peels back your skin until Simon grumbles and grabs your arm. 

Blinking in shock, he only gives you a moment to steady yourself and slip on your shoes before he drags you inside the garage. You huff and look up at him as you close your sketchbook–trying to not look at those tattoos again. Your finger wanted to trace them—to study the ink down to the layer of skin where it ended and became red flesh and weeping veins. How far up his left arm did they go? Did they only stay at his forearm, or up to his shoulder?

Inside he lets you go, head slightly tilted to the outside as the sounds of hushed whispering pick back up; hurried and filled with electricity. Simon grunts, blinking. 

A heated silence encompasses the two of you, and as your eyes lock, neither can speak for a moment. 

“Sorry about that,” you glance at your feet. “Should have guessed he’d show up and do something.”

“Don’t apologize,” Simon crosses his arms again, boots righting themselves. “That’s not your fault that some bastard can’t act right, yeah? Forget about it, it’s all nothing.”

“You shouldn’t have to be involved—”

“Bloody cut it out, would you?” Simon glares, brows pulling in. “I said it’s nothing.”

He was very passionate about this, it seemed.

You sigh, shaking your head before a tiny chuckle makes the mechanic blink in confusion. “Suppose I can call you my guard dog now, huh?”

“Piss off,” you laugh, covering your mouth with your hand while your eyes narrow down. Simon's own crinkle along the edges, lowering his hands to push them into his pockets. 

A second leads into another, but neither of you has any particular interest in re-joining the others, even if Soap is smugly passing looks and Price smirks into his drink. Gaz fixes his hat while he tips back a beer bottle, hiding a glint of amusement. 

Simon’s voice lowers, seeming to hover closer. 

“You alright, then?” You nod, face heating up as you stare at his shadow-tainted visage and how the face-covering obscured him from your eager eyes. 

“I’m used to his drama. I have no problem giving it back.” Simon hums, October browns glinting like Halloween lights. 

“Seems so.” He pauses, and pushes out a joking, “Not surprised, Sunshine.”

“Good, Brown-Eyes,” you lean back on your heels and smirk. “I’d be offended if you were, with all we’ve been talking to one another.” 

“Getting familiar, Bartender?”

“Of course, Mechanic. Haven’t you heard?” He tilts his head, prodding you on as his eyes soften that candle-like smidge. “I keep everyone’s secrets—and you still have to tell me yours.”

Simon chuffs a low chuckle, and the fabric of his mask pulls as he shakes his skull. “Maybe one day, yeah? Need to stick ‘round to know ‘em.”

Then perhaps this town was worth wasting away in.  

—

“Bastard won’t cause any problems, will he?”

“No, no, he’s too much of a coward to try and get back at anyone. He won’t do anything.”

TAGS:

@sheviro-blog, @ivebeentrashsince2001, @mrshesh, @berryjuicyy, @romantic-homicide, @kmi-02, @neelehksttr, @littlemisstrouble, @copperchromewriting, @coelhho-brannco, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @fictional-men-have-my-heart, @sleepyqueerenergy, @cumikering, @everything-was-dark, @marmie-noir, @anna-banana27, @iamcautiouslyoptimistic, @irenelunarsworld, @rvjaa, @sarcanti, @aeneanc, @not-so-closeted-lesbian, @mutuallimbenclosure, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @gildedpoenies, @glitterypirateduck, @aldis-nuts, @writeforfandoms, @kohsk3nico, @peteymcskeet, @caramlizedtomatoes, @yoursweetobsession, @quesowakanda, @chthonian-spectre, @so-no-feint, @ray-rook, @extracrunchymilk, @doggydale, @frazie99, @develised, @1-800-no-users-left, @nuncubus, @aldis-nuts, @clear-your-mind-and-dream, @noonanaz, @cosmicpro, @stinkaton, @waves-against-a-cliff, @idocarealot

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[mangocheesecakes]

the scammer @/rescueplease has now been deleted, but since a lot of people are still reblogging my posts about it, i'm changing my pinned post to a list of currently active scam accounts

scammers with the same m.o., sometimes similar profile pics and linktrees/paypal addresses:

> numberonegoateeeagle (paypal name 'Jeff Owino') new

> nour-samr (paypal name 'Nour Samar') >> nour-samr0 new/remake

scammer pretending to be a sick Black person, using the paypal name, 'Alafred Opondo'

> enchantingqueencreator

the 'insulin scammer''s latest blog (at least i think it's their latest blog:

> fancycoffeepeanut

empty blogs who are mass-reblogging the scam posts and are likely just the scammers sock puppet accounts used to pad the notes of their posts, pls block them too:

> chopra-79

> futuristicphilosopherartisan new

deleted/deactivated/changed url:

maina-3

immariaanszz >> iammarinassaa >> iammarinassaass

jovialsuitdonutai (paypal name 'jeff owino')

khalilhan (paypal name 'samuel obiya') >> khaliilhan

marylinfwaznassar (paypal name 'maryline lucy')

stickytreephilosopher (paypal name 'jeff owino')

perfectlyminiatureface (paypal name 'jeff owino')

optimisticalpacalady (paypal 'jeff owino')

omarkhalini (paypal 'fred odhiambo')

marylinefwaznassar (paypal 'maryline lucy')

khalilhani (paypal 'samuel obiya')

weepingpersondestiny (paypal 'jeff owino')

as always, please block and report these blogs, and more importantly, warn your friends, mutuals, and followers if you see them reblogging their scam posts. if you see a donation post/blog that you believe may be a scam, please do look their url up first on the tumblr search bar to see if someone has already called them out. i will try to update this post with the scammers' new accounts/url as we discover them. please also go to @kyra45's blog, as they are faster and more thorough in updating about newly discovered scams.

some red flags to look out for before sharing donation posts/donating:

new blog, or a couple years old but has only a few random, sporadic posts

backdated posts

spamming asks to a lot of other users, even the ones they don't know or have just followed, and even when the user has made it clear they don't want to receive requests to boost dono posts

is asking you to answer their asks privately, or is sending you a message directly

is straight up asking you for money, and usually for impossibly large amounts

do not put their paypal/money transfer links on their post itself, usually claiming it's to protect their 'privacy'

is using Zelle for their money transfer account, especially if the person is claiming to be in Palestine

please don't be so quick to entertain donation requests and to give away your money, especially if the user ticks a lot of these boxes. if you are familiar with the place they say they are from or the language they are supposed to speak, try conversing with them for a bit to see if their claims would hold. you can also browse my 'donation scam' tag or kyra45's blog to compare if the user has any similarities with past scammers that we've discovered.

that's it po. let's all try our best to look out for each other and make sure that our resources are going to the actual people in need, especially in the case of Palestinians asking for help. the last thing they need right now is for shitty lowlifes to use their suffering to make a profit.

#donation scam #donation scam updates #numberonegoateeeagle #nour-samr0 #futuristicphilosopherartisan #optimisticalpacalady #omarkhalini #nour-samr #iammarinassaass #fancycoffeepeanut #khaliilhan #stickytreephilosopher #perfectlyminiatureface #marylinfwaznassar #maina-3 #marylinefwaznassar #chopra-79 #khalilhani #khalilhan #jovialsuitdonutai #weepingpersondestiny #immariaanszz #enchantingqueencreator

[dreamcatchers-husband]

A Business Proposal

Male Reader X Fromis_9 Nakyung

Length: 12.6k+ Words

Tags: Angry sex. Teasing. Creampie

A/n- So the winner of the poll was was post it now. So here you go. Been a while since a new fic but this is in honor of my two years of writing smut on tumblr. Hope you enjoy.

Business proposals. It probably isn't a lie when you say they probably happen every day. Sometimes they can be rather fair for both sides but in your case, you couldn’t be more annoyed. 

“What do you mean I have to marry her? And in a month and a half also?”

Your parents rolled their eyes as they then placed a contract in front of you. 

“Look. Their company has always been a great partner of ours and this could help elevate both of us to the top. This union will combine both our profits and make our wealth reach new heights. The day you marry her, you will officially become the chairman of C Industries. If you don’t marry her then we will look for another board member to take the place. Please don’t make us do that.” 

Your mother and father were hard workers. It took them 27 years but they managed to develop a company that was second to none. Now what was this company focused on? Honestly? Everything. C industries were just a jack of all trades. Tech development, construction of apartments, agriculture. Those were just a few things. It always amazed you how they managed to build their empire and you knew it was yours eventually until now. 

You were destroyed hearing those words. Years of hard work would be ruined over one decision your parents made without warning.

“Shit. Are you going to make me do this?” 

“Yes, Yejun. Now it’s it a yes or a no?” 

Sadly there was only one answer. 

5 frantic weeks went by as both companies got together and worked out the merger. Most of your days went by with you attending meetings from 7 in the morning until 8 at night. You met with lawyers from both sides as well as your parents and future in-laws but one certain lady was always missing. 

Despite this marriage being forced on you. You were going to be a good husband and love and support your wife. So of course you were wondering about her after all this time. Currently, your meeting was ending with the Lee’s so you knew it would be the best time to ask. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Lee. If I may ask, where has Nagyung been this entire time? Me and her will be running this company together yet she hasn’t even shown up for a single meeting.”

“Ah. She has been very busy deciding things for your wedding with the planner. We haven’t seen much of her either. We just get updates over some phone calls. You must be excited to meet your future wife. Why don’t you go give her a visit? She has her place in the city and I’m sure it would give the Two of you some time to connect. I will send you the address as well as the passcodes to enter.” 

“Are you sure it’s ok for me to enter?” 

“Of course, Yejun. You will be married in a few weeks. If she gives you any problems just tell us.” 

“Very well Mr Lee. I will head over tonight when I get a chance.”

“Very well. I wish you a good night and hope to see you soon again.” 

With a handshake, everyone in the room parted their own ways. Your parents didn’t even stay as they gave you a wave goodbye. Looking to the right, your eyes looked up at the clock and saw that it was 5 pm. Today was one of the lucky days you all ended it early. With the idea of visiting Nagyung fresh in your mind, you quickly gathered your things and went towards the elevator. 

After a few seconds, the familiar ring echoed out in the hallway. The doors to the machine opened and you entered. The ride down to the garage took a bit as you were on the 45th floor. After about a minute and thirty seconds, the same ding came back and doors opened. 

Respect is what could be felt in the air. As people passed you, they all took the time to stop and give you a bow. Of course, they would show that kind of respect to the future CEO. Despite that, you felt a bit weird and appreciated when they treated you like anyone else. You never wanted the money or power to get to your head. You hope it never does. 

As you finally arrived at the black vehicle, your hands brought out the key fob and unlocked the car. The little chirp from your Toyota brought a smile to your face. You had just bought it a few days ago and loved having a state-of-the-art car for the first time in your life. Once in the driver seat, your foot stepped on the break and you pressed the start button. As the car roared to life, you waited a few seconds until the display screen in the middle of the console was active. Once up, you could see there was a Message from Mr.Lee. In the text was the address so you just clicked on it and your car put it in the GPS. With the instructions not playing in the speakers, you put the car in drive and took off. 

A few minutes passed as you drove away from the company building. Taking a glance at the time, you saw it was 5 pm and a typical dinner time. With the GPS saying you were 5 minutes away, you began to glance around and look for some food. With your eyes scanning all the buildings, they eventually saw a large neon sign that caught your attention. 

Seeing an open spot near the store, you turned your wheel and parked right in front of the building. Turning the engine off, you quickly jumped out and walked to the front door of the restaurant. The name “Very Very Good Chicken” certainly caught your attention. 

As you pulled the glass door open, the strong fragrance of chicken hit your nose. By just a few smells you got, it was going to be good. Going up to the counter, a young man could be seen just standing behind the counter. His attention was facing down, so you could tell he was just on his phone. 

As you finally reached the register, it took the young. Man, a minute to notice you were there. The sudden jolt from the man scared you since you scared him. Both of you began to laugh at this and calmed down after a few seconds. 

“Sorry. Welcome to Very Very Good Chicken. What can I get for you?”

“Hi. Could I get half and half of the Ganjang and Yangnyeom flavors?” 

“Of course. So half and half of the Ganjang and Yangnyeom flavors. Would you like any drinks to take with you as well or just the chicken?” 

“Hmmm. How about a bottle of draft beer?” 

“A bottle of draft beer. So in total, it’s the chicken and the beer. Your total will be 35,000 Won. How would you like to pay?” 

Handing over your card the young man quickly swiped it and then handed it back. 

“Please give us like 15 minutes to get that ready for you sir. Thank you for buying with us.” 

Nodding towards him, your legs brought you over to an empty seat and you waited for the food. The 15 minutes went by in a flash as you saw the young man walking over with the bags of food. Standing up, your right hand extended and you took hold of the plastic. 

“Thank you for buying. Hope to see you again!”

“Thank you!”

Walking out of the building, you immediately arrived at your vehicle and placed the food on the passenger seat. Getting back in the car, you took a look over your left and pulled out of the spot. Your GPS continued to direct you toward the large apartment building. After the Five-minute drive, you pulled into a large parking lot that was across the building. Your Toyota certainly stuck out from the various nice-looking cars that were stationed there. 

Despite that, you parked your car in the first spot you could find. With the engine turned off, your hand took hold of the plastic bag and hopped out of the vehicle. Your footsteps brought you to the front door where a doorman was ready to let you in. Thanking the man, you made your way inside the building and took a look around. The giant glass chandelier in the center of the lobby certainly brought all eyes to it. 

Moving past it, you eventually made it toward some elevators in the backside of the lobby. Pressing the circular button, your leg began to bounce as you waited for the elevator. A few more seconds passed until a ding echoed out in the lobby. With the door in front of you opening, you quickly hopped on the elevator and pressed the button to the 22nd floor. With the doors closing, all you could do was wait until you were on the correct floor.

A little jingle played in the metal cage as you stood there with the food. Honestly, you weren’t quite sure how to say Hi to Nagyung. Well hi was the least of your concerns. What would you talk about with your fiancé?

Your time to brainstorm ran out as the same Sound as before hit your ears. With the doors opening to your desired floor, you began to walk off the elevator and take a look around. On both sides, apartments lined down the hallways. In front of you was a sign. In the black font, you saw that on the right-hand side were all apartments from 2210- 2220. On the left-hand side were apartments 2200-2209. With a glance at your mobile device, you took a glance at the text and saw that Nagyung lived in apartment 2220.

As you moved down the right-hand side, your eyes scanned all of the apartment buildings until you reached the end of the hallway. With the number in front of you, your right hand went up and formed into a fist. Hesitation is what you felt until a sudden boost of confidence brought you to knock on her door. 

Silence was all that could be Heard. A few seconds passed as you were getting ready to knock again. Before your right hand could hit the door, the sound of the lock being undone began to come from the door. As the white door pulled back, your eyes were met with a strange man who happened to be shirtless. 

“Fucking finally. Forty-five minutes for damn fried rice.”

You didn’t even have time to react as the bag of food was snatched from your hand. A wad of cash was then thrown at your face as the man slammed the door. Were you at the wrong Apartment? Taking your phone back out, you decided to send a message to Mr. Lee. Your message only repeated the address back to the man. It didn’t even take ten seconds for the name to respond saying it was correct. 

Now you were beyond confused. Who the hell was that man? Bringing your ear to the door, muffled sounds passed through but you could hear laughter coming from a couple of people. It could be seen as rude but now you needed to know what was going on. With the keypad on the left side of the door, your fingers put in the code that was given to you. 

12418 imputed. You then pushed the door and were met with a house hallway. Stepping in, you gently closed the door behind you and lurked forward. A couple of nice-looking jackets were on the right-hand side. On the left side was a small wooden table with some car keys. The Bentley logo was very easy to see from the back of the key fob. Obviously, she had a very nice car. As you finally arrived at the end of the hallway, your eardrums picked up about three different voices who were joking around. 

“What the fuck? This is chicken, not fried rice. I’m gonna yell at this place!” 

Walking out of the hallway, you were met with The three individuals who happened to all be undressed. Nakyung as well as the man from the door yelled but you also noticed another young woman who just ran to cover her exposed body. 

“YEJUN! WHAT THE FUCK?”

“Your parents said I could come and visit you. They gave me the code to your door.”

“Wait. You know this creep? Isn’t he the delivery boy?”

“Are you really that stupid Sangjun? That’s Choi Yejun. The future CEO of the company once the merger happens.”

“That doesn’t explain why he’s here?” 

“Well, I came to visit my Fiancé. I didn’t expect to find her naked with another man and woman.”

The man’s expression changed from anger to shock when he heard those words. 

“FIANCÉ? YOU TOLD ME THE MERGER WAS JUST THE MERGING OF THE COMPANIES! YOU ARE MARRYING THE NEW CEO?”

The young man quickly threw on his pants and then bowed before you. 

“Sir I am so sorry. She never told me she was going to be married. I can’t lose this job!”

“Leave, and never disrespect a delivery driver like that again.” 

“Thank you, sir!”

As he ran away, you took a glance at Nagyung and the other woman who were now clothed. 

“Saerom unnie. Can you please give me and Yejun some privacy?”

The young woman gave your fiancé a nod and then walked deeper into the apartment. 

As your eyes met with Nagyung’s, you could tell she was beyond annoyed.

“My parents really gave you the code to enter my home?”

“Your father said it was ok since we are going to get married soon. I’m sorry I’m still just confused. Who were those two?”

“I don’t think you deserve to know that info considering you broke into my home.” 

“Look I know I did barge in but your father said I could. Who were they?”

Nagyung rolled her eyes and began to walk away from you. Following behind her, the two of you eventually reached a nice kitchen. The expensive appliances as well as granite countertops let you see the girl lived in such luxury. From a topside cabinet, the young woman pulled out a glass and a bottle of scotch. Pouring the brown substance into the glass, Nagyung took a seat in the nice leather chair and looked at you. 

“Saerom Unnie is one of my assistants. I have a couple of other girls who work for me. Sangjun is just someone in the marketing department of my father's company.”

“That still doesn’t explain why he was naked. Or why your assistant was naked as well.” 

“You can’t be that’s stupid. What do men and women do when they are naked together?”

Sure you weren’t dense but somehow your brain was trying to convince you that they were participating in some other activity. 

“But why? We’re eng-“

“Engaged? That wasn’t my idea. The only reason this is happening is because my father said I had no other option. The company merger was going to happen. This way my family still kept their wealth and power and a say in the company. Did you want this to happen? I can’t say I would blame you for wanting to marry such a beautiful girl like me.” 

“No. I didn’t want this. My parents threaten to take away my birthright. I would not be the CEO of C Industries unless I married you as a favor to your parents. Now I didn’t want this b-“

“I’m going to stop you there. We both didn’t want this so why are you getting mad? I’m going to be very blunt right now. I love sex. I honestly can never have enough of it so I sleep with any man or woman who even gives me a fuck me look. We are going to get married but I’m still gonna be looking for sex. Look Yejun, you look like a sweet guy but you probably can satisfy me at all in bed. I will act like a good wife in public but I am going to live my life how I want. So if you are now well informed then get the fuck out of my house.”

The way Nagyung spoke to you made you angry yet you also felt sad. Your body reacted on its own as you began to walk towards the exit. Everything was a blur as you were finally back in your car. The anger and sadness remained. Angry that your future wife thought you less of a man. Perhaps you were wondering why you were sad. Well, you always thought you would marry a woman that loved you back. Now that dream. No, fantasy is now gone. 

As you pulled out of the driveway, you began to drive home in an almost robotic state. Fifteen minutes passed as you arrived at your apartment building. Pulling Into the garage, you made your way over to your designated spot and parked in it. Stepping out from your black vehicle, your legs brought you to the entrance where you scanned your keycard. With it unlocked, you made your way over to the small dinky elevator that was already there. Hopping in, the doors slowly closed with a bit of squeal behind them. 

With the elevator going up, you didn’t have to wait more than twenty seconds to reach the 3rd floor. Walking out of the elevator, you walked to the right side and made it to the first door there. Taking out your key, the piece of metal then entered the key slot and turned to the left. Pushing your door open, you then made your way in and closed the door behind you. 

Taking your shoes off, you left them near the door and walked to your couch. Unlike Nagyung, your home honestly was not the best. You didn’t see much of a need for an expensive home. It was all about what you made with the space you had. Wasn’t much but you loved this place. As you slowly removed some of your clothes on the couch, your phone began to ring in your pocket. Taking it out, you saw it was Mr.Lee.

“Hello, Mr.Lee. How are you?”

“I’m doing well, Yejun. Did you go see my daughter?”

……..

Silence. What could you even say to him? 

Oh yeah, I went to see her and she told me she’s gonna be getting railed 24/7 by men and women who aren’t married to her. How she’s told me she’s going to constantly cheat on me? Should you say something?

“Yejun? Are you still there?”

“A-Ah yes. We had a little bit of a chat. She was busy with the preparations so it was just a short talk. I’m sure we will talk more.”

“Oh I’m sorry she was busy but I’m glad you got to talk a little bit with her. Why don’t I schedule a dinner for you and her so you get to know each other better.”

“Oh you don’t have to-“

“Oh don’t worry. I’ll set it up for tomorrow night. 7 pm and I will send you the location.”

You didn’t even have time to respond as the phone call ended. How would dinner even go? Guess that was a problem for tomorrow. For now, you should just rest. 

7 pm came faster than you anticipated. Your future father-in-law reserved a dinner at Lotte Tower. Honestly, it was all uneventful as you arrived at your table. The view out into Seoul was just amazing. You had personally never eaten at this place but you were plenty excited now. A young waitress at the time walked over and placed a glass of red wine in front of you. With a nod, you grabbed the glass and took a sip. Looking at your watch you saw it was 7 pm exactly, so your date of sorts would be arriving soon. 

One minute passed, then two, and then three. Soon it was ten minutes. By this time you could already imagine what happened. You were stood up. At least you thought you were until a young woman walked up to you. 

“M-May I take a seat? I’m here on behalf of your fiancé.”

With a nod, the young woman took a seat across from you and grabbed the cup of water. Bringing it up to her red lips, the girl began to drink the glass of water until the glass was empty. Placing it down, her eyes met with yours and she quickly looked down.

“Hello, sir. My name is P-Park Jiwon and I will be your new personal assistant.”

“When did I hire you?”

“A-Actually, your Fiancé assigned me to the position. I was working at The Lee company already as her assistant but reassigned me. She already spoke to your parents and hers and they approved.

You weren’t even married yet and this woman was already making decisions for you. 

“And let me guess. She’s currently not here because she went to meet up with one of her appointments.”

“Y-Yes sir.”

“Of course she is. Well then I guess-“

At that time, the young waitress brought over two plates of food and placed them in front of the two of you. 

“Well, this food shouldn't go to waste. Eat with me. Let’s get to know each other if we are going to be working together.”

Jiwon looked a little hesitant but as you raised your wine glass to her with a smile, she nodded her head and raised her own. 

Two hours passed and your table was full of laughter. This nervous girl was wacky and funny. You could tell that working with her was going to be a fun time. Since your dinner was over, the two of you walked out to your car and you helped her get in. You would end up dropping off at her home and then going back to your own.

A week passed and you found yourself moving things into your new office. As you placed your knick-knacks on the shelves on the right wall, a knock was heard at your door. From behind the door; Jiwon came and smiled at you. 

“Ok, I think that’s everything, Mr. Choi. That last of your things were in the box.” 

“When we are alone you don’t need to call me Mr. Choi. Yejun is fine. And thank you for the help.” 

“Of course Mr.- I mean Yejun. So what’s next?”

As Jiwon walked over, her eyes didn’t notice one of the empty boxes near you. Before you could warn her, the young woman tripped and started falling forward. Extending your arms, you managed to catch Jiwon before she smashed her face into the floor. 

“You ok Jiwon?” 

“Y-Yeah. Thank you.” 

“Well, don’t you two look nice and cozy.”

You took a look in the direction of the voice and were met with a glare from your fiancé. Jiwon quickly stood up and got away from you. Bowing towards her, Nagyung got closer and got face to face with Jiwon. 

“Why don’t you go get me a coffee, Jiwon?”

“Yes, Ms.Lee.” 

Running out of your office, Nagyung came over and glared at you now. 

“Was it you?” 

“What was me?” 

“Did you tell the media we’re getting married?”

“No. I did not.” 

“DON’T YOU DARE LIE TO ME.”

“Watch your fucking tone with me. Why the hell would I tell the media?”

“Because it played out exactly how you would want it. Everyone now knows I’m engaged and going to be married. No man wants to risk pissing you off so they all cut their ties to me. None of them will fuck me. Sure I still got some girls to mess around with but I need a man to please me.” 

“Nagyung. I did not tell the media. It probably just made its way out. Maybe this will be a way for you to stop this little habit you have.” 

“Oh shut up. You’re probably looking forwards to fucking your assistant. What the hell did I walk into?” 

“She fell. I caught her. Don’t try to assume you know me.” 

“Whatever. Since the news is out, the media will be outside our wedding. When we pass the camera’s we will be the perfect couple. Do what you need to do so that narrative will play out.” 

You hadn't noticed Nagyung had a tight hold on your arm until she let go. Walking towards the door, Jiwon almost bumped into Nagyung as she was returning. Nagyung took the cold cup from Jiwon's hand and left your office. That nervous girl you had met at dinner returned around her. It’s something you hated to see.

“I’m sorry about that Jiwon.”

“It’s ok. She’s been like that for the two months I worked for her.” 

“Well, I will make sure it stops. Don’t you worry about that.” 

Jiwon’s frown turned into a smile when you told her that. In a short time, you already cared for this girl. You would make sure to protect her the best you could. 

The chirping from birds let you know it was the next day. A little look from your crusty eyes saw that it was seven am. You had to be at the shop to get your hair done by eight. Begrudgingly, your legs threw your covers off of you and made their way to your slippers. Standing up, you managed to tumble your way to the shower and hop in once the dirty pajamas were off. 

You knew your time was short so you made your shower quick. That cold water surely helped you to wake up. Since you were in a bit of a hurry, you took your time in the shower to also brush your teeth. Some people might be disgusted but you do what you need to when you're short on time.

Getting out of the shower, you managed to empty your bladder and run back out to your room. From your dresser came a casual pair of underwear, sweatpants and a shirt. Throwing them on, you then made your way to your kitchen and grabbed a few cookies from a container. Shoving them in your mouth, you then got to your shoe stand grabbed the comfiest pair of sneakers, and threw them on. Looking up at your clock on the wall, you saw it was 7:20 already. 

Grabbing the keys to your vehicle, you rushed your way towards it.

The drive was uneventful as you arrived at the shop with 15 minutes to spare. With your parked near the building. You then made your way to the entrance and met with the Receptionist. The young woman smiled at you as she saw you. 

“Well if it isn’t the man of the hour. Welcome, Mr.Choi. Please follow me, I’m sure you're ready to start getting spiffy for your future bride.” 

With a nod, you began to follow the young woman down a pair of nice granite steps. This shop was amazing. As you finally got down the stairs, you saw plenty of workers running around getting different things ready. 

As you passed a small section of the shop, your ears could hear why people were running all over. The voice of your fiancé was telling people instructions on how she wanted to look. The receptionist pushed you forward into an area with other males that were waiting for you. 

“They will be responsible for getting your hair and other stuff ready. Your fiancé already brought your suit in which you will be married. They will make sure it fits you perfectly despite having your measurements beforehand. Have fun.” 

With a nod, you walked over to the men and gave them a bow. 

“Please make me look good today.”

The men all smiled and Instructed you to sit down. 

Hours went by. It wasn’t just your hair that was getting done. By orders of Nagyung, light makeup was being applied to you. Somehow light makeup took nearly 4 hours. Wouldn’t that be heavy makeup? Either way, it was noon by the time your hair and makeup were done. The staff had ordered some small sandwiches for you all to snack on before you went to put on your suit. With your simple ham sandwich gone, you went and looked at your suit.

The black tux seemed to be custom-tailored to your size. You probably had your parents to thank for that. You could have sworn a suit of yours was missing from your wardrobe. Pulling a cover, you proceeded to remove the tuxedo from its hanger and laid it on a table. Removing your clothes, you proceeded to throw on the white dress shirt and buttoned it up. Grabbing the pants from the table, your right leg went into the right slot and the left leg into the left slot. You had plenty of practice with suits and such. Putting them on wasn’t hard at all. 

After two more minutes, your belt was in the buckles and you had your pants and dress shirt on. The white bow tie that remained on the table stood out to you. Most women made their partner wear the same color their 2nd dress would be. This being the color could either mean she wanted you to look bad, or her dress after the wedding would be white as well. Either way, you proceeded to pick up the bow tie and put it on. The final piece of your outfit was the nice black jacket. As you put it on, your eyes looked into the mirror in front of you. Your outfit was complete. Honestly, it was a perfect fit. 

Pulling back on the cover, you proceeded to walk out towards the stylists and they began to pass a lint roller all over your tux. 

“Perfect sir. Your bride is going to be very happy.”

“Yeah, sure she would.”

“Your wedding is being held at 3 pm in the Seoul Cathedral. That’s about a 30-minute drive from here. It’s 1:30 pm so it’s time to head out. Good luck today and don’t forget to say I do.” 

Giving the men a bow, you began to head back out the way the receptionist had brought you. It was nothing eventful until you found a giant limousine waiting for you. The older man waiting by the back door gave you a bow and pulled it open. Giving the older man a bow, you quickly entered the limo and the door closed behind you. After a few seconds, the man went to the driver's side and hopped in. Before you knew it, you were on your way to the cathedral.

Honestly, it surprised you how many times you were using the same word to describe your wedding day. Uneventful. The 30-minute drive was uneventful until you finally arrived at your destination. The flashing cameras began to surround the vehicle as well as yells from the media. Security was already outside and began to push the men and women away as your vehicle inched forward to its final spot. Once there, the large men who helped push the media away helped you step out of the limo. 

Despite being pushed back once, the various news sites came piling back over once again. The yells of your security were all you could hear as they were throwing the men and women back. Step by step you began to go up the steps of the cathedral. You aren’t even sure how much time it took until you were finally at the entrance. Once past the wooden doors, you could finally hear yourself think. 

As you began to move further into the church, various men and women began to walk toward you and say their hellos. Despite it being early, the church was already filled with various people. A large majority of these people were businessmen and women who wanted to get on your family’s good side. Doesn’t surprise you most of them are there to kiss ass. 

The repeated motions of your arm going up and down were annoying. Sure everyone knows how simple a handshake is but once you reached 30 people, it was just bothersome. With the random businessmen out of the way, next was saying hello to the executives of The Lee Company. As you stood in front of the 6 men and women, your head went down and gave them all a deep bow.

“I welcome you all to my wedding. Thank you for taking the time to come to this event. I’m sure all of your schedules were packed.”

The oldest of the bunch came over and shook your hand. 

“Of course, we need to attend to meet our company president. Some were hesitant but this merger will help make us all a lot of money. I speak on behalf of all of my colleagues here. I am Ru Sangki.” 

“Mr.Ru. I thank you all for coming. Will you be joining us for the festivities after?” 

“Who could ever say no to free alcohol?”

With a small laugh, you proceeded to make your way to the end of the church where your parents were waiting. As your mother's eyes met with your own, you could see she was beginning to tear up.

“Sweetie. Y-You look amazing.”

“Thank you, Mother. Please don’t cry. You know I hate that.” 

“I just never thought I would s-see the day.”

“Well, it’s here whether we like it or not.” 

Placing a hand on your shoulder, your father looked at you. 

“L-Listen Yejun. Your mother and I know this wasn’t your favorite thing but we appreciate you doing this. This will help our families rise to new heights. I guess we’re beginning to sound like broken records but this has already had an impact. Our stock prices have risen 7% since the first word of your wedding. New investors are lining up. The two of you will make this into a worldwide empire. I’m sure of it. You’re both young. I’m sure you will learn to love each other.”

You wanted to roll your eyes but as a matter of respect, you just nodded your head to your father. 

“OK then. Your wedding will start in a few minutes. Why don’t you go stand up there and we will get started once your bride arrives.”

“Yes, father.” 

Walking up on the stage, you began to just wait and give everyone a nod as they got to their seats. Minute after minute passed as your foot began to tap on the wooden floor. You were in your own world until the sound of an organ playing spooked you. The stereotypical tune from weddings began to play for everyone’s ears. Everyone was sitting for a minute until the sound of the doors could be heard. 

The crowd now standing, looked back and began to take pictures. Your eyes first noticed the older man with her arm intertwined. Next to him was the young woman who had a white dress. Nagyung’s wedding dress wasn’t like other women’s. Most women had massive gowns that could fall to the floor. The fluff from those dresses was always a lot yet Nagyung didn’t dress like that. 

Your fiancé’s dress was short. Her legs were on full display for the crowd to see. The two straps on her shoulders showed her soft skin. The white down her body showed her beautiful curves that could make any man drool. Around her neck, the collar of her dress seemed to have jewels all around to just show a look of elegance. 

Step by step, the young woman got closer as her father held her arm. Small cries could be heard on the left-hand side. As you looked, your eyes noticed Nagyung’s mother crying at the sight of her daughter. You could tell she was just happy her child was getting married. After a few more seconds, Mr.Lee and Nagyung were finally at the front. 

Walking down the five steps, your arm then extended to take Nagyung. Mr.Lee in that moment caught you by surprise as he hugged you. 

“Look after her please.”

You were a bit shocked by this action but after you composed yourself, Mr.Lee revived a nod yes from you. Taking Nagyung’s arm, the two of you went up the 5 wooden steps and met with a priest who seemed to appear out of thin air. 

“Ladies and gentlemen. I would like to welcome you all here today. It’s not often family, friends and loved ones get the chance to gather all together but you all took the time to come here for a very special moment. The moment when a man and woman become one. This is a sacred event that has stood the test of time. One that plenty would feel blessed to have, and I am sure these two feel just that way. Choi Yejun and Lee Nagyung have brought you here today for this. Their marriage. Now as I stand before these two, I can see the nerves on their faces. What couple wouldn’t be nervous on their special day but this just shows the love the two have for each other.”

You could almost laugh hearing those words but you needed to keep the act up. Nagyung smiled at the priest and nodded her head. 

“Now Yejun, the duty of a husband can be tough. Sometimes you will be a friend, other times a confidant but you will always be the head of the family. You will be responsible for the needs your wife will have. Be that someone to talk to or someone to just enjoy time together. The key to all this will be communication. Communication will be the thing to help your marriage last as long as people like your parents. I hope you can fulfill the needs of your family. Now Nagyung. That same goes for you. The role of a husband can be hard at times but you will be his friend and confidant. The two of you will also have the struggles of running a business but if you communicate, then you can stand everything thrown at you two. Now I know plenty of weddings like to go on for an hour and bore you all with different sorts of speeches but I’m not going to do that to you all. I’ll make it shorter than average. We will now move on to the vows. We will start with Yejun. Repeat after me.”

At least this wasn’t going to be long.

“I, Choi Yejun.”

“I, Choi Yejun.”

“Take you, Lee Nagyung.”

“Take you, Lee Nagyung.”

“To be my wife.”

“To be my wife.”

“To have and to hold from this day forward.”

“To have and to hold from this day forward.”

“For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer.”

“For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer.”

“In sickness and in health, I promise to love and cherish you.”

“In sickness and in health, I promise to love and cherish you.”

“Now Nagyung. Repeat after me. I, Lee Nagyung.”

“I, Lee Nagyung.”

“Take you, Choi Yejun.”

“To be my Husband.”

“To be my Husband.”

“To have and to hold from this day forward.”

“To have and to hold from this day forward.”

“For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer.”

“For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer.”

“In sickness and in health, I promise to love and cherish you.”

“In sickness and in health, I promise to love and cherish you.”

“Thank you, both of you. Now I must ask. Should anyone have any reason these 2 should not be wed today, please speak or forever hold your piece.”

Silence in the church.

“Well then. As I said I wouldn’t make this long. By the power vested in me by South Korea and god, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

As you looked at your bride. Your eyes met with hers and saw she was smiling at you. You could tell it was fake but you had to play the part. Putting your hand on your wife’s waist, you then pull her closer and put your left hand on the back of her head. Tilting your head to the left, you then pulled Nagyung’s face toward you and connected your lips. The kiss was simple, just your lips touching but your heart was racing. It had been years since you kissed a girl. You were ready to push your tongue forward until Nagyung pulled her face back. 

Cheers filled the church as the two of you faced the crowd. Smiles were on everyone’s faces. Your parents as well as your in-laws seemed happy. With the feeling of happiness in the air, you couldn’t help but give a genuine smile. At that time, Nagyung pulled your head closer to hers. 

“Carry me to the limo. Make it seem romantic, idiot.”

Now your fake smile is back. Picking the young woman up, you began to walk down the wooden steps and go down the aisle. The cheers continued as you went down and gave everyone a quick nod. Nagyung pulled herself up a little and began to kiss your cheek. Each step you took brought you closer and closer to the doors. Security was ready as you finally reached the end. Your parents and in-laws managed to keep up with you and were ready to go out. 

“Take a few pictures for the media and walk to the limo. We will join you there.”

“Ready, Nagyung?”

“Let’s do this.”

With security pushing the door open, your eyes were immediately blinded by the flashing lights of cameras. Yells from your security as well as the media hit your ears once more. You thought they were crazy before but now that your wife was in your arms, they almost lost it. You were now the power couple of South Korea. Each push on the men that were in front of you wasn’t fruitful. It took a couple of tries for you to make any progress towards the limo. 

More of your guards came and began to pull the cameramen away from you all. Taking a chance, you posed with Nagyung and she smiled for the cameras. After an intense struggle that lasted five minutes, you were finally at the limo door. For one final picture, you looked at Nagyung and attached your lips to hers. The kiss was the same as before, just on the lips. It made your heart skip a beat until your wife pulled away again. 

Putting your wife down, the young woman stepped into the limo and you followed behind. Your parents as well as in-laws also hopped in the limo and then closed the door. Unlike before, security already had them away from the vehicle and you were able to take off. Hugs were passed around as everyone hugged their parents. Your parents then hugged Nagyung and your in-laws hugged you.

“Your dress was stunning. So different from other brides.” 

“Thank you, Mrs.Choi. I-“

“Call me Mom please.” 

“Thank you M-Mom. I had the dress custom-made by some famous stylists at Versace. It was worth every penny.” 

The rest of your ride was filled with Nagyung talking about her dress as well as the different jewelry she had on her person. For not wanting to get married she truly went all out for her dress. Fifteen minutes passed as you reached the venue for the reception. A hotel.  Your wife had reserved several rooms and suites in this massive hotel. As the limo parked at the entrance, security stood guard and helped you get out. Helping Nagyung get out, you extended your arm once more and began to walk in with your family. 

“Now me and your in-laws will finish setting up the reception. You two go over to the conference room and we will come get you when it’s time.” 

“Ok, mom.” 

Walking to an adjoining room, you and Nagyung found a couple of reclining seats and sat in them. The only noises that could be heard were the music as well as the staff workers who were setting up. You Weren’t sure how much time had passed until you heard a small grunt from Nagyung. Looking in her direction, the young woman was standing up and walking towards the door. 

“You ok?”

“I’m gonna go do something. I’ll be back.” 

You didn’t get the chance to respond as your wife pulled the door open and left. You were getting ready to follow behind her until the door opened again. A smile filled your face as you saw it was Jiwon. 

“Congratulations Yejun!”

“Thank you Jiwon. I didn’t know you were in attendance.”

“Well of course I needed to come. I want to support you and be here in case you need something. So where is your bride going?”

“She said she would be back. That’s it.”

Jiwon’s smile turned into a look of sadness when she heard that. 

“I think I know where she went. Follow me.”

Should you?

Jiwon didn’t wait as she grabbed your hand and began to pull you towards the rooms. The first floor seemed to have a few hotel rooms. As you went down this hallway, Jiwon reached one of the many doors there and pulled out a keycard. Scanning it, the green light appeared and she pushed the door open. Walking in, you were met by a sight that angered you. Nagyung had her arms wrapped around another woman and was kissing her neck. Somehow they didn’t even notice you. 

“Nagyung. You’re married now. W-We shouldn’t.”

“It’s ok. I’m sure he won't mind it being another girl, Seoyeon.”

You weren’t sure why you were surprised. She said she was going to keep cheating but with the men avoiding her, you thought the women would too. Your eyes seeing this were suddenly met with the worried young woman. You could see the fear in her eyes as what she worried about happened. 

“M-Mr. Choi.”

Nagyung at that time turned around and saw you. Most people would act shocked when caught cheating. Nagyung just rolled her eyes. 

“Did you bring my husband here?”

Jiwon was silent for a second until she nodded yes. 

“Next time keep to yourself. Or you will be out a Jo-“

“You will not be out of a job Jiwon. I give you my word on that. Nagyung. I truly thought that maybe you would not do it but I’m here and you couldn’t give a shit. Wow.” 

As you began to walk out of the room, you could hear Nagyung scoff and yell at you. You paid her no mind as you and Jiwon returned to your waiting room. Once there, you took a seat again and just closed your eyes. While anger was coming off in waves, you felt a hand touch your arm. It was Jiwon and you could tell she was sorry for you. In a short time, this girl was already proving to be a better friend than any you had before. 

“Sorry. I know this wasn’t your choice but maybe if you have a normal conversation with her then she will listen and stop.” 

You were just silent. It could seem stupid but it only really hurt because Nagyung was keeping stuff from you, lying.  At that time your fiancé returned and took a seat. The two of you were just glaring at each other now. Tension was all that could be felt in the air. Nagyung could have probably jumped on you until a knock on the door caught everyone's attention. It was the party planner. 

“Everything is all set. Let’s go show everyone the lovely couple.”

Your feelings would have to wait, you now had to be the perfect couple. Standing up, you and your wife met at the door and intertwined your arms. Both of you put a fake smile on your faces and walked toward the reception hall door. The doors were quickly pulled open and music began to play. You and Nagyung began to playfully dance to the tune while going into the reception hall. Cheers echoed in the venue as the two of you made your way to the center of the hall. 

You were ready to continue walking toward your seats until a slow song began to play. Normally the first dance would be later on but it looked like it was at that moment. Placing your hand on Nagyung’s thin waist, the two of you began to stumble a bit and go in the opposite direction. To everyone, it was just nerves when in reality you had never practiced this with your wife. 

“Get your shit together and dance. I better not be embarrassed by this.”

Looking to the right a bit, Nagyung began to follow you and you both swayed left and then right in tune. Your dance wasn’t amazing but it served its purpose. A couple of minutes passed as the song stopped and everyone clapped. Directed to your table, the two of you took your seats and looked out into the crowd. It would be a long rest of the day. 

Hours went by. To say it was horrible was an understatement. Every few minutes Nagyung would pull you closer and complain about something you did. Insult after insult continued to go in your ears. How were you going to have a calm conversation with your wife? You were angry. She was angry and annoyed. Would your emotions cause problems in this chat? A sudden pinch on your arm brought you back to your senses. The two of you had been bowing toward everyone who came to the weddings and it had ended. As people packed the dance floor and music blared in people’s ears, your parents and in-laws walked over and placed a few folders in front of the two of you. 

“We know it’s been a long night, and it’s still technically a little early but we couldn’t wait any longer. In front of you are the deeds to your new home. Now C Industries has been developing a new mega building near the heart of Seoul. Well, the penthouse is already done. This home would be worth several million but it’s our wedding gift to the two of you.”

Both you and Nagyung were surprised. The two of you thought it would be time to go home shopping soon but your parents gifted you one. Both you and Nagyung bowed your heads and the massive gift you both received. 

“Finally. In front of you are the transfer of ownership documents for both you and Nagyung. It’s all set. You both just need to sign and Yejun will be the CEO while Nagyung will be the COO.”

Pulling the cover to the manilla folder, the documents were all there and you began to give them a look over. There were no tricks in the end. This was the moment you had been dreaming about your whole life. Picking up a pen, your hand went down to the bottom of the document and began to sign. Once your lengthy signature was done, you took a glance to the left and saw Nagyung was done signing as well. Your wife was smiling and u like her previous ones, this one looked genuine.

“We are proud of the two of you. Welcome the new leaders of C Industries!”

Finally after everything today you were happy now also. 

“We know it’s a bit early but the presidential suit was reserved for the two of you tonight. Here are the keycards so you can enter. Go ahead and leave whenever you want. We love you both.” 

With your parents and in-laws leaving, Nagyung immediately took one of the cards and looked up at the clock. It was 10 pm. 

“Well, I will be heading to the suite. I’m done with all these fake smiles I’ve been giving. Have fun dumbass.”

Standing up, Nagyung made her way to the exit and bowed at everyone as she left. You were left alone at your table now. It felt awkward. Should you just go to your room also? Wait, what if Nagyung was meeting with another person again? 

Your mind began to go in circles as you asked yourself that question repeatedly. Your body reacted on its own as you made your way to the exit. After saying your goodbyes, you quickly made your way towards the elevator and waited for it. After a minute, the metal cage arrived and you walked in. Scanning your keycard, you then pressed the button to the presidential suite and the doors closed. As you went up, your leg began to bounce as you waited to get to your room. 

A loud ding brought you back to earth and the doors opened. Right in front of you was the entrance to the suit. With the card scanner on the handle, you quickly scanned the rectangle in your hand and saw the green light. Walking in, the door was pushed almost all the way but then stopped by a pair of white heels. Pushing your way past the door, you continued your way further until you reached the living room. On the couch sat your wife. The bottle of champagne on the table in front of her was opened and she was enjoying it. 

“Why are you up here?” 

“I have just as much right to be in this room Nagyung.” 

Grabbing a glass, you then poured some of the contents of the bottle into it. You didn’t even hesitate to down the entire glass of champagne. Nagyung scoffed at this action and filled her glass once more. 

“You’re acting like you had a tough day. I had to act like the perfect wife.”

“And you are acting like you aren’t a nightmare to deal with. I tried my best to be kind towards you all day yet all you did was treat me like trash.” 

Nagyung’s scoff returned as she then stood up. 

“I have been treating you well, all things considered.”

Your wife at that time walked towards the bedroom, leaving you shocked at her words. Following behind you raised your voice a bit. 

“That was treating me well? How the fuck is that treating me well?”

“You got to kiss a gorgeous woman like me. I think that’s pretty good for a loser like you. Plus you ruined one of my chances to destress. I could have slapped you for that.” 

“First. You need to stop calling me a loser. I don’t get where you got that idea and secondly, you went to do shit like that on our wedding day. You don’t even care.” 

“I don’t care. I told you I love sex. A wimp like you can’t satisfy me.”

Getting closer to Nagyung, your glare met with hers.

“I have asked you already. Stop calling me a wimp. I’m getting tired of this.”

“Wimp, wimp, wimp.” 

Our anger was ready to boil over. You had this rage you wanted to release but you didn’t know how. You hadn’t noticed how close your face was to Nagyung’s until you could feel her breath on yours. The two of you were angry and needed to get rid of this feeling. 

Your bodies reacted on their own as you both grabbed each other. Your lips were connected to Nagyung’s before you knew what was happening. This wasn’t like the short kisses you had before. You had wanted to push your tongue forward before and now you had the chance. 

As your tongue moved into her mouth, the two of you began to fight against each other. You would have figured Nagyung would push you away but she continued to kiss you. The young woman’s tongue was shorter than yours, yet she managed to put up a good fight. Your tongues were pushing against each other and then circling, chasing each other.  With your pent-up anger, you finally pushed your tongue against hers and took control in her mouth. Oxygen was something the two of you didn’t notice until your lungs felt empty. 

Pulling back, both of your chests heaved as they took in as much air as possible. Still, your face ended up back in her body only now her neck. First, you began with small pecks on her soft skin. A few pecks later you began to nibble on her skin and pull a bit. The combination of your kisses and bites began to leave a red mark on your wife’s neck. Soft moans hit your ear as Nagyung held you close. 

You weren’t sure when but after a little bit, Nagyung was already pulling off your jacket and ripped off your tie. Your hands stopped being idle after those actions and followed her lead. Your wife didn’t have much clothes on, so it was easy to begin to raise her white dress. Pulling back from your bride's neck, she began to help you remove her wedding dress. As the clothes began to leave her body, your eyes were blessed by the sight of her nude breast. Nagyung didn’t have a bra on this entire time. Just that thought made your already stiff cock to twitch. 

Nagyung seemed impatient as the young woman ripped the buttons to your shirt open. With that out of the way, your hands went down to your belt and unhooked it. Pulling the leather belt off your pants, Nagyung quickly unbuttoned your pants and pulled them down. Raising both your legs, your pants were finally gone and you were matching Nagyung. Only your undergarments remained. 

“Not bad for a wimp.”

“Shut up you bitch. Why am I even doing this?”

“Please, I'm asking myself that. You probably have a little shrimp dick.”

Nagyung’s hand reached out and took hold of your clothes shaft. Your wife had a smirk on her face until she began to feel around. 

“Take a look then.” 

Your wife rolled her eyes at the cockiness in your tone and dropped to her knees. As she went down, her hands wrapped around the band of your underwear and pulled it down. As your cock was freed from its confines, it accidentally hit Nagyung in the face as she got closer. A small gasp left her mouth as she stared at your dick. Raising her hand slowly, your wife’s dainty fingers wrapped around your cock. 

“Well well well. I guess my husband is blessed with a nice cock after all.”

Slowly, Nagyung’s hand began to move up and down your length. With each small stroke, a bit of precum left your tips and began to move down your shaft. The clear slick began to slick up your wife’s hand a bit. Her hand was soft and moving slowly, yet it felt great. Nagyung. Could tell these small actions felt amazing as she then sped up a little bit.

“Awe. Your cock is heating up a bit. This is probably the most a girl has ever done to your length.”

“I’m not a virgin Nagyung. I just don’t Sleep around with anything that breathes.”

“Well you should be happy your wife loves sex. Because that means I’m an expert at this.”

Goosebumps filled your body as you felt something warm wrap around your cock. Looking down, your eyes met with Nagyung’s as her mouth trapped your tip. A few small sucks began to attack your cock head. A slight groan left your mouth as Nagyung continued this action. Sure it felt great but it would quickly bore you. 

Nagyung seemed to have read your mind as she smirked a bit. Lower and lower went your wife’s mouth on your length. You weren’t sure how but Nagyung managed to move your entire length down her throat. After five seconds, Nagyung pulled her mouth back and off your length. Your wife then began to move her tongue on your length and moved it from the base to your tip. Left then right went her tongue around your cock. Moving down to your balls, Nagyung began to move her tongue around them and played with them. Your wife’s hand while she sucked on your balls stroked it up and down. 

After a minute, Nagyung returned her mouth to your length and began to suck on your cock head. Down went her head on your length inch by inch until you filled her throat. The same action repeated two more times until Nagyung hit you with something new. When you filled her throat once more, you felt a vibration around your length as well as a constriction. Nagyung was somehow massaging your cock with her throat. It was unlike anything you had felt before. If you truly were a virgin, you would have blasted your load down Nagyung's throat at that moment. 

Pulling back, Nagyung giggled a bit and just looked at you. 

“How does that feel dear? I told you I’m talented. Or maybe you are just a virgin.

“T-That was….. ok.” 

“Well. If it’s just ok then fuck my face. Dump a load down my throat.”

With the same insult being repeated, you decided to take her up on this invitation. Both of your hands took hold of Nagyung’s head and your waist began to move back and forth. At first, it was slow but when your eyes met with Hers, you saw she rolled them at you. With a sudden thrust, Nagyung’s throat was filled and her eyes shot out a bit. Back and forth your cock entered and left her mouth. Your wife’s throat was getting filled every second with your action. Despite this, she would take deep breaths when she could and took it. She truly wasn’t a rookie at this. Once again, Nagyung began to constrict your length with her throat. The feeling every time felt like the first time. The girl certainly wanted you to cum. 

“F-Fuck. Guess you can do more than just complain with that mouth.”

You felt almost embarrassed but you knew you were close. Using as much strength as you could, you pounded into your wife’s throat. You didn’t have time to warn Nagyung as you thrust into her throat a final time, blowing your load. Shot after shot of your cum went down the young woman’s canal. A small pur left Nagyung’s mouth as your semen filled her stomach. It was one of the best orgasms you had in a while. Letting go of your wife, Nagyung pulled back and began to suck on your tip. Your whole body jolted as you were still sensitive.

“Fuck. I haven’t swallowed a load that big in a while. You must have needed to let one out for a while now.”

Your head just nodded a bit as Nagyung stood up and laid her back on the bed. 

“Hurry up and eat my pussy. I better cum from that worthless tongue of yours.

After finally catching your breath, your legs dropped down and you brought yourself up to Nagyung’s legs.

“Sit back and enjoy, bitch.”

Wrapping your arms around Nagyung’s thick thighs, you then pulled your wife closer. Deciding to tease Nagyung, your lips went to her legs, and began to kiss them. Each peck down her leg brought you closer and closer to her panties. Nagyung being impatient wrapped her hand on her panties and pulled them down. With her privates uncovered, your kisses got closer and closer until you hovered about her pussy. Her slick had covered her legs already and you had a taste, but now you wanted more

“Fucking eat my pussy.” 

You would have liked to leave her there frustrated, but you decided to be nice and gave her pussy a kiss. A little moan left her mouth and you gave her lips another kiss. You repeated this action as your hands moved up to her folds. Spreading them open, your tongue took the chance to push in and began to lick around. More moans left Nagyung’s mouth as your tongue began to swirl in her cavern. 

With her folds parted, your eyes managed to see your wife’s clit. With your left hand, you began to run her nub in little circles. Letting go of Nagyung’s folds, you then used your right hand and pushed your index finger into her. The small moans were replaced with swears as your fingers moved in and out of her pussy. All 3 actions made your wife begin to jump around. She wasn’t ready for you to please her. Nagyung was truly caught off guard. 

Adding two more fingers at once, Nagyung’s legs began to shake at the combined efforts of your hands and tongue. In and out your fingers pistoned Nagyung’s tunnel faster and faster. Your tongue with its continuous flicks on her clit began to speed up despite your mouth getting tired. Nagyung was close and you could tell.

Pulling back, you looked up at Nagyung and heard a groan from her. 

“Why the fuck did you stop?”

“Maybe we should just leave you here as payback or-“

Nagyung wasn’t happy and pulled your head back into her snatch. Should you keep going? Nagyung didn’t wait as her fingers began to rub her clit. Your three fingers pushed back into her snatch and your tongue licked her folds. It didn’t take long for Nagyung to get close to her orgasm again. Moving your fingers as fast as possible. 

“F-Fuck. Just a l-little more.”

Keeping the same pace, Nagyung soon began to jolt around and yell. A rush of fluids hit your face and you then opened your mouth. Each squirt of your wife’s fluids filled your mouth quickly. Drinking it, your body shivered as you had the best-tasting drink of your life. Pulling back, Nagyung was panting for air and had a bright smile on her face.

All of this made you hard again. You thought you were turned on before, but now. You wanted to fuck the life out of your wife. You didn’t hesitate to stand back up and line your length with her folds. Nagyung saw this and smirked. 

“Look at you. Taking charge. I wonder if that cock can make me cum.”

“I already made you cum.”

“That was with my help. I doubt you can do it on your own but go ahead and try.”

“Let’s see if that loose pussy can make me cum.” 

Your cock head began to push forward and wrapped around your length. You didn’t hesitate to go as deep as possible in that instant. Every inch of your length was wrapped by Nagyung’s walls, and it was the greatest feeling ever. Pulling back, you began to move back and forth. 

“Mhmmmm. Such a beautiful cock but I’ve had better.” 

Your anger returned as you wrapped your hands on her hips. Harder and harder your cock began to shove itself into your wife.

“Little better but I think I should go find a better cook than you right now.”

Adding a bit of speed, your hips thrusted more and more into Nagyung’s pussy. Achieving a steady speed, you continued to fuck Nagyung. 

Clap clap clap

Those were the sounds that could be heard in the room. Finding a bit more strength, you began to move harder. Grunts left your mouth as Nagyung moaned. 

“T-That’s fucking it. Keep going, wimp” 

Grabbing Nagyung’s hair, you aggressively pulled your wife’s upper body closer to you. 

“S-Stop calling me a wimp.” 

“Y-You want me to stop. Then make sure I cum.”

Lowering your hand, your fingers began to search until you found her clit once more. As your wife did before, your fingers began to move her clit in circles. You could feel your wife begin to constrict her walls on your length from this action. You hadn’t noticed Nagyung had her arms wrapped around your neck until now. Letting go of her upper body, your head moved down and went into her breast. 

With your mouth wide open, you managed to find Nagyung’s right nipple and wrapped it around your lips. At first, you began to give it a few teases but soon you began to suck on it harder. You were never the best multitasker yet you managed to keep fucking Nagyung, playing with her clit and sucking on her breasts. Raising your head, you then moved your mouth to her left breast and began to suck on her nipple. 

“Fuck. I-I’ve needed this.”

“M-Me too.”

You were surprised at that moment as Nagyung pulled your head back. You thought she was going to push you away until she brought her lips to yours. The two of you were in a battle once more. Your tongues fighting for dominance. This kiss was aggressive, yet you could feel almost a sense of care in it. Pulling back from the kiss, Nagyung smiled at you and kissed your cheek. 

“B-Babe. Keep going, please. I’m going to cum if you keep this pace.” 

Your heart fluttered a bit when she called you that. You were going to help her cum. Keeping your thrusting pace, your fingers sped up and stimulated her clit even more. Nagyung at that time began to yell once more and jump around in your arms. Your wife’s eyes began to roll back as she continued to jump around. The construction around your length was just as good as her throat, you were ready to cum. With a few more thrusts, your length reached the end of your wife’s caverns. Your seed began to flood your wife’s snatch as you fell on top of your wife. Your cock throbbed more than five times as you filled her to the brim with your semen. 

You weren’t sure how much time passed as you felt Nagyung kissing your neck. Getting back up, you looked down and saw your cum leaking out of your wife’s pussy. Nagyung brought her fingers down at that moment and grabbed some of the semen that was dripping. 

Raising it to her mouth, your wife playfully spun around and raised her ass towards you. 

“Put another load in me.”

You didn’t need to think twice about that invitation. Despite everything, your cock was still plenty hard. Nagyung at that time reached back and lined your length up with her folds. With a push, your length was enveloped in your wife’s caverns once more. 

“Fuck. How are you so tight?” 

“How do you have such a nice cock?”

Picking up a little speed, your thrusts began to get harder. Nagyung at that time brought her upper body up and you took hold of her arms. From your wife’s delicate arms, they began to go up and take hold of her breast. Your lips once more went to her neck and you began to pepper it with kisses.

“God I love that. Maybe I really won’t need another cock after this.” 

“Here y-you go again. This is the only cock you are going to have from now on.”

“M-Maybe but you get a pleasure other men have never had.” 

“And what’s that you whore.”

Nagyung’s walls got tighter with that word. 

“None of them got to fuck me without a condom. Let alone fill me with cum.” 

“Then let me fuck a-another load into your loose pussy.”

Nagyung moaned when you insulted her again. Your speed began to increase when you could imagine another load in your wife. Letting go of her left breast, you immediately raised it and slapped her ass. A grunt left Nagyung as you then slapped her ass again. 

“Y-You can do better dear. Fuck me like others have before.” 

Your slaps continued on her ass after she said those words. 

“S-Shut up you whore.”

“W-Whore? Yet you’re fucking me.”

“B-Because this is my pussy now.” 

Your thrusts increased and Nagyung began to grunt like you. 

“C-Choke me.” 

You would have never thought of yourself grabbing your partner's neck during sex but with the way Nagyung spoke to you, there wasn’t any hesitation. Both of your hands wrapped around the young woman’s neck and began to squeeze a bit. This seemed to turn Nagyung more. The constriction around your cock got tighter with each squeeze you gave her neck. Nagyung began to lower her hand down to her clit but you saw this and slapped her hand away. 

“Y-You come when I say so.” 

Your right hand continued to give a few squeezes to her neck while your left hand went to her clit. Rubbing it in circles once more. Your combined efforts were bringing Nagyung to her orgasm, and you were soon to follow. Should you be ashamed about cuming so soon again? Probably not when you were making her cum quickly also. 

Every one of your actions went as fast as they could. The rubbing of Nagyung’s clit, the choking of her neck, and the thrusting Into her walls. 

“P-Please. Just a little more.”

With your constant pace, you saw Nagyung’s body begin to shake as her third orgasm of the night came. A rush of fluids hit the bed as you gave her neck one final squeeze. Just like your hands. Your wife’s walls squeezed around your cock and tried to milk you of all you had. Letting go of her neck, your cum began to fill Nagyung. Pants for air and mains filled the room, just like you filled your wife. 

After a minute, Nagyung pulled her body away from yours and pulled the covers to the bed. Hoping under the covers, you followed her and wrapped her in your arms. 

The room was silent until Nagyung broke the air. 

“Can I be honest?” 

“Sure.”

“That was some of the best sex I’ve had in a while. You were great but I still want to sleep with other partners. I have been doing this for so long and it will just be so hard to change myself. 

You began to chuckle a bit hearing that. 

“I have a compromise. Why don’t you let me sleep with other women and you can sleep with other women as well?”

You were amazed at what you just heard. You were mad about your fiancé trying to sleep with others but now your mind was debating if you should take this offer.

“It’s called an open relationship. And to stay clean I will only sleep with women I introduce you to and you can sleep with women I introduce you to. You already proved that cock can satisfy me. I won’t lie to you anymore or try to trick you but please let me continue this life, dear.”

Should you do it? should you change your morals just to have more sex?

“I’ll let you fuck Saerom unnie first if you would like.”

Your cock twitched at the thought of fucking her. Her beautiful body certainly had never left your mind when you saw it. This deal would be in your favor. 

“Fuck it. Let’s do it. So much for being angry at you for trying to sleep with others."

Nagyung laughed and hopped back on you. The young girl smirked and began to kiss your neck. 

“I hope we can wake up early. Our flight to Jeju is at 7 am. This week is going to be filled with fucking. Let’s see if you can keep up, wimp."

“One way to find out.” 

Plunging Nagyung back on your rod, the young woman began to bounce as you pulled her down for a kiss. 

This relationship is going to be Interesting.

A/n 2- Thank you for reading. Not the best but i hope you enjoyed it. Not sure when i will come back with another piece so until then. Thank you for reading, sorry for typos and see you next time

#kpopsmut #smut #fromis9smut #female idol smut

[oliviajdjarin]

Din Djarin: Come and Get Me

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: After a job leaves you trapped, you realize how much you have come to trust the legendary Mandalorian.

Excerpt: “Please don’t cry,” you heard him whisper, “please don’t cry, Y/N.”

“Come and get me,” you begged, “Din, please come and get me.”

“The house is likely on total lockdown,” he said. “There’s no way for me to get in.”

This only made you sob harder.

“Please, Din,” you said through gasps of air, “please don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t leave you alone,” he said. It sounded like he was running now. “Not ever, you understand me?”

Warnings: claustrophobia, panicking, panic attack, crying, so much banter, dinny boy gets *stern, * but only because he is in love hehe.

A/N: happy dincember my people :)

Pedro Masterlist

All my writing

(gif credit to pinterest)

“Why are droids always so angry?”

A deep sigh arose through your comlink.

“Because everyone is always pushing their buttons.”

Silence.

“You’re holding back your laughter.”

“That is absolutely not what is happening,” Din responded, voiced husked with his ever-present exhaustion.

“I can feel it,” you countered. “You are actively killing braincells trying to hold it back.”

“That is not what is killing my braincells,” Din responded, and you gave a dry chuckle back.

“Just get the credits and get out,” Din said, “we have other jobs to do.”

“Yes sir,” you responded sarcastically, pulling down your mask. It was a soft obsidian fabric that covered everything but your eyes.

“Need I remind you it is your fault we are here in the first place?” Din asked, knowing it would push your own button.

Greef had known you since you were a kid, your parents always calling him a “close family friend.” In actuality, your parents were his most profitable bounty hunters, and they had worked with him until they physically couldn’t anymore.

Without hesitation, choosing you take their place.

They had trained you from birth, ingraining into you the strength, cleverness, patience, persistence, and of course the wit needed to be an adequate replacement.

In Greef’s own words, you were “more than adequate.”

You worked for him for over a decade before finally meeting the infamous Mandalorian. His name had been circling for a while before you met him, allowing him to climb the ladder of Greef’s good graces (a particularly slippery ladder, in your opinion), as well as the ladder of wealth. You didn’t mind at first, sticking to the lot of bounties Greef would assign you every month, and minding your business.

That was until this Mandalorian started getting your pick of the lot.

“He’s just as good as you are,” Greef had said to you. “Your skill sets are incredibly complimentary. It is best for me financially to have you both going at once.”

You scoffed into your drink. “Give me a break, smartass. Next thing I know it will ‘best for you financially’ to have us working together.”

“It was a joke, asshole,” you responded to Din. “I’ll admit, not one of my best.”

Din sighed and remained silent. After two dozen jobs together, he had learned how old that jab was becoming.

“Going in now,” you said quietly, pulling out your gun and – as quietly as you could – shooting through the lock on the front door of what had to have been the biggest house you had ever seen. The outside was made with some rare limestone that glimmered in the moonlight which, in your opinion, literally shouted “rob me.” The owners of this house had tricked Greef, running off with the sum of money he had owed you and Din for a previous job (quite convenient, if you said so yourself). Greef agreed to pay you and Din triple your original salary if you got it back for him.

And here you were.

The door squeaked on its hinges as you opened it, revealing a pitch-black living area. You took one step inside, and as you did, a generator must have kicked on, because the room was instantly lit up. You gasped, stepping back in fear of a possible alarm, but as you waited a few seconds, there was no such thing.

“You okay?” Din asked quietly. If you weren’t shitting your pants, you might have teased him for seeming like he actually cared.

“Yeah,” you responded, winded. “Yeah. Fine.”

You looked around the room, jaw falling open slowly as you did. It might as well have been a museum. Paintings, vases, chandeliers, stones, and jewels. You could tell one thing and one thing only.

Whoever these people were, they were fucking loaded.

“Hey, Din,” you asked.

“Yeah?”

“Did Greef say anything about being allowed to steal anything else?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Got it,” you said, and moved further into the house.

“Greef paid some gungan to have dinner with them, so there shouldn’t be anyone in the house.”

“I was at the meeting for this job, Din.”

“I know,” he said, “Just checking.”

His voice was laced with an undertone of…hurt. You didn’t have time to think about that.

“I’m headed to the master bedroom,” you said, weaving your way through objects worth more than you would ever see in ten lifetimes. “I’ll let you know when I find the box.”

“Alright,” Din responded, and you carried on.

You circled the first floor of the house, hemming and hawing at what seemed to be an endless supply of riches.

“Are we focused, Y/N?”

“Lazer,” you responded after almost touching the shiniest blue stone you had ever seen. “Nothing on the first floor.”

“Okay,” Din responded. “How-how you holding up?”

Your eyebrows wrinkled together. “Fine. How about you?”

“I’m good,” he said softly. “Just now realizing we have never done a job like this before. Me only hearing you through the comlink. I’m used to being next to you.”

“Oh, the poor Mandalorian, all alone in the desert, cursed with the job of keeping watch. You missing me big guy?”

“Just missing being faster than you,” he jabbed. “It’s good for my ego.”

“Har har,” you responded, opening the first door you found at the top of the stairs. “You can’t deny I give you a run for your money though.”

“You sure do,” he said, once again laced with emotion. What the fuck was with him?

And why did you keep noticing?

You opened the door and were welcomed by what had to have been the biggest bed you had ever seen in your life. It took up half the room, with the rest of it being looted with more treasures, including plants, shelves of books, and…

…a music box.

“Bingo,” you said.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a game you play for fun,” you responded. “You wouldn’t be familiar with the concept.”

“Very original.”

“I’ll be here all night,” you said with a smirk, and walked to the box. You pulled it off the shelf delicately, feeling the weight of credits in the bottom. You laughed happily, unable to hold it in.

Din laughed too. He understood immediately.

You felt for the seal on the front and began to pull it open carefully. You got it about halfway open before it immediately shut, snapping your fingers into it.

“Mother –” you said, pulling your fingers out and holding them to your chest.

“You okay?” Din asked quickly, almost as soon as the word left your mouth.

“Yeah,” you said, flexing your fingers. You laughed lightly. “I think this house may be out to get me.”

As if you spoke it into existence, all the lights in the house suddenly shut down, soaking you in darkness. Strobe lights of red began to pulse on the ceiling, the door to the bedroom shut automatically, and an ear-piercing alarm permeated the room.

You were suddenly unmoving.

“Y/N?” Din asked, his voice a whisper above the alarms. “Y/N, what is that?”

The box fell from your grip.

“Din…” you said, chest constricting, muscles locking, brain failing. “Din…”

“What’s going on?”

You started shaking your head, making your way to the door slowly. You jiggled the doorknob, then pulled on it, then yanked on it, then threw your body into it.

It was no use. You were locked in from the outside.

“Din, I –” your voice cracked with a sob. “Din, I’m stuck.”

“What do you mean?” He sounded like he was walking.

“I’m-I’m trapped,” you said, sobs now fully escaping from your mouth. “Din I’m trapped. They know I’m here. They’re gonna…”

You couldn’t finish your sentence, hand cupping your mouth as you began to hyperventilate, because suddenly, you were a child again. Put up against one of your parents’ countless tests. Locked in a basement, or a ship, or your own room, forced to find a way out, told that in the real world, if you couldn’t find a way out, you would likely be killed.

You could never pasts their tests. Never.

“Din, they’re gonna kill me.”

“Shut up,” he said firmly. It sounded like he was moving faster. “You’re not gonna die.”

His tone was unconvincing.

“Din,” you cried, tears staining the fabric covering your face, snot soaking through it. Panic was seeping itself into your bones. “Din, what do I do? What do I do?”

“You’ve gotta find a way out.”

“I can’t,” you wheezed, body sliding down the door and onto the floor, the alarms and the red overstimulating your every nerve. “I can’t Din. It’s so loud,”

“Please don’t cry,” you heard him whisper, “please don’t cry, Y/N.”

“Come and get me,” you begged, “Din, please come and get me.”

“The house is likely on total lockdown,” he said. “There’s no way for me to get in.”

This only made you sob harder.

“Please, Din,” you said through gasps of air, “please don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t leave you alone,” he said. It sounded like he was running now. “Not ever, you understand me?”

You nodded, now plugging your ears, and closing your eyes, rocking yourself back and forth subconsciously.

“I’m going to get you out of there,” he said, his voice suddenly nasally. “I swear to the maker I’m going to get you out of there. I just need your help, okay?”

You tried your best to gather breath. “Okay. Okay.”

“Okay,” he said. “I need you to see if there are any windows in the room. Can you do that for me?”

You swallowed, standing on shaking legs, ears still plugged. You squinted as you walked slowly, finally reaching a wall. You then felt the wall with one hand and walked forward until you felt something that resembled glass.

“I-I found one.”

“Good,” he said, sounding peculiarly winded. “Now, I’m going to need you to break it.”

You sobbed once more. “How?”

“Anything. Shoot at it, throw things at it, the fucking music box for all I care. Anything.”

You swallowed again, breathing in as deep of a breath as you could, before pulling out your gun. You felt the glass once again, and slowly backed away from it. You continued to release faint cries as you did, holding up your gun with quivering fingers, before letting blasts fly.

You heard some cracks as they landed against the glass. Once you halted your firing, you made your way back over to it, and realized they weren’t nearly enough.

“I’m going to have to kick it,” you said, some semblance of power returning into your voice.

Din didn’t respond.

You backed away again, breaths still rapid and voice still raw. But you gave that piece of fucking glass your all.

Your foot went right through it, cutting shards into your calf and ankle.

You grunted, falling back into the room.

“You get it?” Din asked, panting.

“Yeah,” you said, clutching your leg. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Good. Now stand up.”

You did.

“Walk to the window.”

You did.

“And jump.”

“What?”

“Jump now.”

It was in that moment that you realized that you truly, unequivocally, deeply trusted the Mandalorian. Because you jumped into the dark, cold night, and he caught you, mid-air.

You gasped as you landed in his arms, watching as the ground beneath you whizzed by, eyelids pealed back in awe.

A smooth, gloved hand framed your cheek and pulled your vision upwards, locking it into his visor.

You stared at him, the remnants of tears against the cold wind freezing your face, and yet his hand was the true culprit of your goosebumps.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly. The flames from his jet pack illuminating his armor in golds and reds.

You nodded. “I’m okay.”

He nodded, diverting his gaze to stare forward into the night, but keeping his hand pressed against your face.

You would say it was the shock, or the trauma, or the adrenaline pumping through your veins. In reality, all you wanted was comfort – his comfort. You couldn’t stop yourself.

You rested your forehead against the side of his visor and closed your eyes, scooting your body as close to his as possible as the two of you shot through the sky.

“Thank you, Din,” you said, tears escaping you once more. “Thank you.”

Din audibly swallowed, then removed his hand from your cheek and used it to remove your mask, before sliding his hand into the hair at the back of your neck.

“I swore to you I’d get you out of there,” he said, his voice crackly and weak. “I don’t break promises.”

You nodded against his visor, clutching desperately onto the fabric around his neck. He smelled of sweat, metal, and home.

“I’ve got you now,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Tag list: (if you would like to be added please let me know!)

burned-dorito, @tiredbuthappyppy @em---r @just-a-sewer-goblinlin @punkiwiki @lovesbiggerthanprideerthanpride @darth-voder @samanthacookieone @torchbearerkylee @stardust-galaxies @c4psicle @joelsflannell @mysun-n-stars@tateelii @darth-voder @kirsteng42 @leithatnight @arson-tm @l0calgothh @thesmutslut  @alastorhazbinbin @grincheveryday @reader8679 @cockscombkingdom

@lexloon @pauphs @enjoyyourlatttebitch

@miss-goldenweek

@darling-murdockk @1deadpool266 @queen-nothing-blogg @burnt-dorito @untitledareaa @julialoopeezz @daphne-turner @jediknightjanaa @sasakipspoststs

#din djarin smut #din djarin fluff #din djarin x reader #din djarin #din x reader #din djarin x you #dinner #mando #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandolorian x reader #the mandolarian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #the last of us fanfiction #dincember #din djarin fanfiction #dincember 2022 #dincember 2021 #dincember 2023

[loveindefinitely]

— ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ THREE OF HEARTS | könig x ghost x reader

✩ PART ONE / ACE OF SPADES

// read on ao3. fic playlist. series masterlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

You can still taste the smoke on your lips.

The flavour of tobacco against your tongue, the spiralling smoke brushing your cheek. A hand in your hair, another between your thighs. One strong chest pressed against your own, the other laid onto the sheets between your legs.

A name spoken against your ear, another whisper muffled by your thighs.

Torture, in its rawest of forms – malicious and cruel and perfect. An agonising taunt of what could be, if not for regulations, rules; decorum and practicality. Right and wrong.

It had been two years since you’d seen the men that starred in your darkest of fantasies. Or, more precisely, six-hundred and thirty-eight days since you’d tasted them, breathed in the strong scent of their cologne.

But you weren’t counting.

You wouldn’t dare.

…Still.

Six-hundred and thirty-eight days, you’d spent, longing and hoping and dreaming of another moment. A possibility to be embraced, once more, by them. Even just a minute of their time, to speak, to ask if they felt the same instant connection you had.

Six-hundred and thirty-eight days of waiting for this very moment.

“Sergeant, I’m sure you’re at least aware of Colonel König and Lieutenant Ghost,” your Commander speaks, elbows resting on his desk, hands folded underneath his chin as he studies you.

Your mouth is barren of moisture, all of it draining straight to where your clasped hands grow clammy in your lap. Without a word, you nod. Your Commander doesn’t comment, but his eyes narrow, and he releases a short exhale.

The room feels so small, now, his office like your own personal prison cell. Walls a fading beige, the seat beneath you a cracking leather – the stench of old paperwork. It’s a challenge not to cough from the dust.

“And I know that you’re well aware of your upcoming mission. Tomorrow, correct?” He asks, flipping through the stapled stack of paper before him, tongue peaking out to lick over his thumb as he skims over the fineprint. 

You nod once more, eyes nervously darting around the enclosed space. No windows? Seriously?

“You’re a smart woman,” he observes, with a small shrug of his shoulders, eyeing you curiously. “I think you know what I’m implying.”

The contracted mission, which had once been an infiltration, targeted approach, has turned into a long-term undercover one overnight. In fact, you hadn’t been informed of the drastic change until ten minutes ago.

Neither had you been informed of the two soldiers you’d be working with.

You didn’t know if you’d ever regretted something this deeply.

Ever.

“I don’t even know the details, let alone my cover,” you begin, fidgeting with the hem of your civvies tank, “Isn’t this CIA shit, anyways? Why are we –”

“You know damn well why we need you three on this, and not just any agent,” Your Commander raises an unimpressed brow, and you slump further into your chair. He’s right, of course, but it doesn’t mean that it makes you feel any better.

The layers within this mission were nearly impossible to decipher.

A foreign terrorist – one growing a steady following within political groups and extremists – was pulling the strings of one of the most exclusive and profitable trafficking rings in the world. And he was doing it right underneath the public’s noses.

What the cover was hadn’t been known – until this morning.

“Read it yourself,” your Commander breathes exasperatedly, and with that tone, you know it’s not going to be pretty.

Tossing the paper over to your side of the desk, it skids to a soft stop right at the edge.

Flitting your gaze to the front page, your stomach sinks.

There, in printed, full colour – is them. They look unbelievably imposing, with their uniforms, and their masked faces.

You knew what was hidden beneath that black fabric.

The images aren’t the only thing to catch your abrupt attention, however, your focus instantly snatching on the cover stories. The… 

Oh. Fuck.

“Commander –”

He instantly raises a palm, and you bite your tongue, hesitantly reading the text from start to end. It doesn’t make the situation any better; somehow, it makes it worse – tenfold.

You speak before you can stop yourself.

“BDSM?” 

If all the blood has drained from your face, you’d be lucky to die on the spot. Because, truly, you can’t think of a better option. A bullet to the head, maybe? Arsenic in the water sat next to the contract?

Yeah. Anything is better than whatever the fuck you’re supposed to be doing tomorrow.

And for the indefinite future.

“I know that it’s impractical,” he tries to amend, obviously seeing the pure distraught written all over your features, “But it’s our safest bet. There’s thousands – millions of lives on the line here. And I’m sure you’re not alone in your… hesitation, either.”

Chewing at your inner cheek, you nervously skim over the rest of the information, before skidding it back over to your Commander, running a hand down your face.

“I have to pretend,” you inhale, deep, “To be in a kinky throuple.” 

With the men who you’d done ‘kinky throuple’ shit with, went unsaid.

The man across from you winces. But he doesn’t deny it.

“That’s…” He seems to search for words, but comes out empty. He clears his throat. “Yeah. That’s… That’s pretty much. The cover story.”

He sounds highly uncomfortable with the topic at hand, but with sweat beading at the nape of your neck, and your mind reeling, you can’t find it in yourself to have any empathy. At least he didn’t have to infiltrate a fucking sex club.

Flashes of bare skin, scarred jaws, calloused hands –

“When’s the briefing?” 

The words fall from your lips in a breath, your subconscious need for information being set to default while the rest of your brain tries to play catch-up.

Looking down at the bulky, gluttonously gold watch adorning his wrist, your Commander grimaces, before looking back up to you with an apologetic frown. “It’s in five minutes. This morning’s been a rush, sorry, kid.”

Rising from your seat on unsteady legs, you accept your own copy of the papers with shaky hands. If your Commander notices the trembling, he doesn’t comment on it.

They feel heavier than any weight, the words in your hands – the words bearing down on your soul.

Attempting to make sense of it all is a fruitless effort, and trying to reason with it is just as impossible. How could you? When this undercover mission was likely going to be the most difficult one of your life? Was this the universe’s form of a taunt, a punishment?

Your Commander opens the door for you, the soft draft of the hallway allowing you to breathe. 

The stifled, stale air of his office gives way, and your shoulders loosen slightly from the tight posture they were in. Maybe everything will be fine. You won’t be in a fake relationship with the men who you had a relationship with, however short-lived, to stop a world-class terrorist.

…Totally.

Following your Commander tightly behind him, your mind a hurricane of emotions and anxiety, you chew at the inside of your cheek as you rack your thoughts for any sense of direction.

You, inevitably, come up empty.

Boots hitting the linoleum floor swiftly, the sound echoing around the empty space, you release short, calming breaths. Realistically speaking, this wasn’t going to be the cause of your death – you were a professional. You were one of the most skilled coveted ops agents for-hire, and what was this but just another aspect of your job?

Maybe this was exactly what you’d been hoping for – a real, substantial opportunity.

Maybe they’ve both forgotten you.

Your breath hitches at that thought.

It takes root in your mind instantly. What’s making you believe that they care, in the slightest, for you? What makes you think that one night of lustful desires could hold a flame to a proper relationship?

What if you were just that – one night? Nothing more of importance, or worth, to them?

“C’mon, kid,” Your Commander claps a comforting hand onto your shoulder, near dragging you into the briefing room. 

You’re just grateful that he takes your hesitation as an uneasiness about the cover story, and not the men you’ll have to execute it with. …Although, the cover story isn’t exactly a breeze, either, König and Ghost aside.

The air-conditioned meeting room feels like ice against your heated skin, the door closing behind both you and your Commander as he goes to take a seat at the head of the table, beside a woman of whom you haven’t seen before. Her dirty blonde hair is pulled back into a short ponytail, a classic button-up adorning her torso as she flips through the files in front of her. 

When she looks up, she greets your Commander with a short nod, before giving one to you, too.

Other than her, the room is empty – and checking the decade-old clock on the wall, it seems like there’s only a minute until the official starting time.

Choosing the safest bet, a chair to the left of the elongated, wooden table, you sit in the middle. It feels like the best choice – not too close to the Commanders or any Chiefs.

You aren’t new to the concept of briefings; in fact, you’d likely been involved in more than any of the Sergeants you knew. 

Being an expert in the field of undercover and intelligence-based operations means that you attended more meetings than, say, an explosives expert. You have to know the smallest details; discuss them and pick them apart, add your own two cents.

Intelligence is something you pride yourself on – you break most stereotypes about the military, all in one go, and you aren’t ashamed of that. Book smart, progressive; a woman. 

It never fails to make you smile internally, the second-glances from the withering old men that held authority within your ranks. While you deal with the drawbacks every second you work, there are some benefits, you suppose.

The cushioned meeting chair is comfortable where you’re seated, hands folded dutifully in your lap as you await everyone else’s arrival.

Their arrival.

Door creaking open, your heart skips a beat in your chest as you instantly dart your gaze up.

You most definitely do not deflate when you see one of your Lieutenants walk in, instead of a specific one from the Task Force. …Or a six-foot-ten Colonel.

The logistics of this mission must’ve been insane to sort out. While KorTac and SpecGru are formally enemies, and actively enemies, too, there are under-the-table deals and trades made between the two behind closed doors.

This must be a prime example of such a decision.

König and Ghost – from those few hours you’d spent with them – had been amicable. That was putting it lightly; they definitely shared a few secretive, heated looks, even a kiss and a few strokes, too.

Maybe the whole forbidden thing was even more intense, for them? Being so explicitly enemies?

You weren’t exactly sure – still aren’t.

None of it makes any sense, which is a debilitating feeling, for someone who needs to know everything at all times. As best as you can, anyways.

Taking the spot directly in front of you, your Lieutenant gives you a kind smile. You easily reciprocate, even with your anxiety heightened, your thighs squeezing together underneath the shadows of the table.

The overhead lights are a harsh, grating white, and you feel a pounding headache incoming.

Your Commander and the woman seem to be engaging in a quick, near-silent conversation at the head of the table. They swap some papers around, narrow their gazes, raise brows. They’re… hostile, but not unbearably so – amicable enough not to cause a fight.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The world doesn’t stop, time doesn’t freeze, but it’s a close thing with the way your heart stutters in your chest, your breath cutting off with your last inhale.

At the door, fist still raised, deep blue eyes and a sniper hood meet your startled gaze. The man’s eyes soften immediately when they catch onto yours, the greasepaint smeared around them doing nothing to hide the instant spark that lights within them.

He is, you distantly think, as breathtaking as you remembered him to be.

The top of his head is hidden behind the door frame, his height palpable even within the excessively tall roof of the building. His posture allows him to curl into himself, even with his fist still raised.

“We late?”

And –

Oh.

Oh.

König’s unbelievably large frame had taken the spotlight – but that wasn’t to say that the other man was any dimmer in your eyes.

Ghost. True to his name, his voice is a rough drawl, muscle-corded arms folded over his chest as his eyes dart around the room, before landing on…

You.

He doesn’t flinch; his expression doesn’t change in the slightest, actually, not even a hint of recognition in his dusky brown eyes. Just cold indifference, this side of disgruntled.

As if you’ve been frozen in time, you struggle to think, let alone breathe – like your life has been suddenly set to manual. With a quick jerk of a movement, you let your eyes zone out onto the mahogany in front of you.

“Colonel, Lieutenant – just in time,” the woman speaks succinctly, folding one leg over the other as she finally looks away from your Commander to gesture the two in.

Oh, what you wouldn’t give for a moment to process. To figure out the battlefield that is your head, and decide on your next actions – your feelings, too, the emotions of it all.

“Good to see you two haven’t killed each other yet!” Your Commander laughs, jovial, and you want to bang your head onto the table.

“...We are professionals.”

That Austrian accent – the thick, headiness of it, the lilt, the gentle tone – it’s one as familiar as your own. One that’s played in your mind, a constant, the memory of it spoken against your heated skin both a blessing and a curse.

Six-hundred and thirty-eight days, it had been.

“At killing.”

You can hear the side-eye, the bored tone, the guttural raspiness reminiscent of his hometown. The sarcasm, too, a core part of the very man’s existence.

Six-hundred and thirty-eight days.

Your Commander is the only person in the room who laughs, clasping his hands together before waving the two over to join at the table. Looking up, for a split second, you nearly deflate when his eyes catch onto yours. The glint in them says everything you need to know.

“Colonel, Lieutenant – let me introduce you to Sergeant Star,” your Commander gestures towards you, and really, would melting into the floor be so bad?

Ghost raises a single brow, and your Lieutenant runs with it.

“Funny story, that,” he starts, and you barely restrain yourself from burying your head in your hands, “First mission. She somehow figures out who was sending the false intel for a case, and dismantled the whole bloody plan, made a new one. She was spot on, too.”

His smile turns shiteating as he leans further back into his chair, folding his hands over his chest. 

“When we got back onto base, Commander over there gave her a gold star for her troubles. Pretty good tradeoff, aye?”

“Leo,” you mutter under your breath, delivering your superior a vicious glare. 

Your Lieutenant – Leo – was more of an annoying older brother than anything else. Since that mission, he’d taken you under his wing; protected you like his own, too. He was a dickhead, but a solid one that you wouldn’t trade for the world.

Even when he pulls shit like this.

“That’s…” König folds into himself further, if that’s at all possible, as he looks to Leo. “Impressive. Very good.”

Ghost doesn’t say a word, instead, moving to sit in the chair next to your Lieutenant, and opposite you. König quickly follows his lead, sitting to your left with rough movements. A man of his size – to be graceful with anything was something of a miracle.

He’d been graceful when his hand had wrapped around your neck –

“Now that everyone’s here,” the woman cuts in, moving to stand and turn on the TV sat between her and your Commander, “Let’s get this show on the road.”

The show is multiple images of the targets, some of the women that have been kidnapped, reports, and other important information. You catalogue it all, playing close attention to the names and circumstances of both the victims and the targets.

It’s going smoothly, until –

“The rules,” the woman whose name you’ve learnt is Laswell speaks, flicking to the next slide. Your stomach drops for a reason other than the two men sat at the table when you read its contents.

Rule One: Explicit consent must be given between pre-established partners, or any new partners if a scene is wished to be done.

Rule Two: Masks must be worn at all times, with safe alternatives if oral play is wish to be done.

Rule Three: A person’s inclination [Dominant, Verse, Submissive] must be displayed on a corresponding armband, which will be supplied at entry.

Rule Four: Access to the basement level may not be granted to anyone, unless a verification and acceptance process has been executed. No exclusions apply.

Rule Five: Submissives with a Dominant(s) must stay within eyesight at all times, unless a collar has been placed onto the Submissive marking ownership.

It feels as though someone’s scrambled the contents of your brain in an attempt to destroy your very essence – and your stomach feels as hollow as your heart as Laswell reads off the words on screen. She doesn’t falter once, unlike you, knuckles whitening against the tight fists forming in your lap.

König, nor Ghost, react outwardly. No hint of hesitance or uneasiness, just taking their professionalism in stride.

You feel like a fool.

“Ghost will be acting as the Dominant, König the Verse, and Star the Submissive,” Laswell states, matter-of-fact, as if your world didn’t start crumbling around you the moment you’d been called into your Commander’s office.

If you were at all in a state to laugh, you’d probably giggle at how suitable the roles are. They all aligned to That Night, and a distant part of you wonders if the three of you were just obvious with your tastes.

“We’ve rented an apartment four blocks away. When you start to inquire about the basement,” she flicks to the next slide once more, “They will follow you. Expect to have a shadow everywhere you go – and one that you don’t know is there, obvious or not.”

“You guys aren’t good people, as of tomorrow,” Your Commander chimes in, leaning forward on the table, looking between both König and Ghost. “You are interested in their side business, and Star,” he looks to you, “Is none the wiser. This only works if you follow through with that – and offer up her services as collateral.”

“You want us to pretend,” König shakes his head, looking dismayed, “To give the Sergeant to the ring?”

Silence.

And, then, “Yes.”

You were made aware, earlier, of course, that your role was going to be slightly different to that of the other two men. But you hadn’t actually expected something so… fucked.

“If this goes sideways –” Ghost speaks up, voice deep and raspy as his eyes narrow, ever so slightly, visible even with his mask, “ –We’re risking ‘er life.”

“I know what I signed up for,” you respond, finding your voice, however weak. “This is no different to a warzone. Just with less explosions, and more…” You struggle to find the words, “Mind games. Tactics are changing from bullets to rumours.”

He doesn’t try to debate it, just merely shrugs indifferently and slides his smooth gaze back over to the two at the front.

As if he hadn’t felt you cum around his cock; heard you moan his name while he left bites over your neck.

Bastard.

The meeting goes on much the same, with more information on the plan as a whole. It makes sense, to you, and you know that you’ll be able to get it done.

König and Ghost, however, that haunting spectre that was them, feel like a road block.

Ghost, from what you had gathered, was either ignoring your existence for some selfish reason, or had completely forgotten about That Night.

You simultaneously find it hard to believe that your time together was that forgettable, and that it was truly something special. It has, after all, been six-hundred and thirty-eight days. Maybe he was used to such intimacy, although you find it hard to believe, it is a possibility.

Then, there’s König – his eyes, the way he almost reeled back at the sight of you, told you enough.

He remembered. Clear as day.

But whether or not he cares at all, or wants to discuss your past at all, is a whole other story. Maybe he just wants to brush it under the rug, forget it ever happened, and move on.

As much as one could move on when pretending to be in a relationship, that is.

“You will head to your apartment by eighteen-hundred, tomorrow night, and get yourselves situated. The club opens at nineteen-hundred, so an hour or so after that is reasonable,” Laswell says, finishing off on the debrief.

Her eyes find all of you.

“There’s a lot riding on this. This isn’t like any mission any of you have executed before – but we have faith that you will execute this with precision and care.”

The words sit in your soul like a reminder; a way of steering you the right direction.

A few words are exchanged after that, some questions, some answers. Leo will be serving as your operator, in charge of communications and resources for the mission. At the back of your mind, you’re grateful for the distant support of your Lieutenant.

It’s when everything’s wrapped up, and you’re falling back as everyone files out of the room, that a presence behind you has you freezing up.

Ghost.

“If you’re not up for the mission, just say so instead of draggin’ us down,” he mutters, just loud enough for you to hear the grain of his low, impatient voice. “This is important, Sergeant, and if your head is elsewhere –”

“You don’t remember?” Your voice comes out tight, impatient, upset. 

His shoulder checks yours as he passes.

“What’s there to remember?”

taglist. @thegreyjoyed @hayleybarnesx

#🤍 : three of hearts #⌨️ : love's writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley #könig x reader #konig x reader #konig mw2 #könig mw2 #könig cod #könig #könig call of duty #könig x you #könig x ghost #ghost x könig #könig x ghost x reader #ghost x könig x reader

[licorice-lips]

So, I already posted this, but I'll give it one more shot:

I think the view that the reality of The Hunger Games is literally happening right now is so right and probably way scarier than people even realize. When we talk about The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins literally just reflected real capitalist-caused issues to fit into a dystopian world, but it's literally here, from the most obvious thing to the simplest detail:

How the riches and concessions from the Capital to loyalist Districts made people from 1, or 2, or so on, think of themselves as closer (in nature) to people of the capital than people in the poorest Districts? That's middle-class thinking, stopping them from realizing they're just as pressed by the Capital as the poorest Districts (the guy from 2 in the last movie, saying he wasn't Snow's slave when WE KNOW he is, everyone is?)?

How the electric fence around 12 is THE ONLY THING stopping people from starving to death since they could very well USE the land? That's literally the argument for legalized occupation movements on unused land, like MST and MTST in Brazil.

The use of addictive drugs and the idea of a "war on drugs" in District 6 to control the population and quite literally render them useless to weaponize such an important thing as medical supplies against the Capital (not that this should happen, but still)? That's literally happening in most poor countries in the world, just as much with legalized drugs - like the COVID vaccine (which Africa had and is still having trouble acquiring because of the Global North) - as with illegal drugs like weed, which is used as justification for police to invade favelas in Brazil, kill innocent people (children especially) and brutalize dozens more each time in a war against poor POC in special.

What they did to Finnick, Cashmere, and Gloss? Lemme tell you two words: Epstein Scandal.

The control of the media? Comms people can tell you: media always has a side, it's not bad in itself, but most of the mainstream media is right-wing and/or conservative, and I'm not talking just regionally, but globally, hence what we're seeing at mainstream media trying to hide important news, manipulate or maintain the narrative of equivalence between Israel and Palestine when we know what is happening is a genocide, an ethnic-based genocide.

The dehumanization of the people from the Districts suffer by the people of the Capital? How billionaires see the working class, how white people view POC, how the North looks at Global South countries - that's exactly there, people.

It's literally there.

But we're not the Capital, not entirely at least. It's true that we live in constant alienation caused by the overwhelming amount of content we have to swallow on a day to day basis — Brave New World, hello? — but we, the working class, are also the ones who pay the price of the "Capital's" need for profit without wanting to actually work — we work so they don't have to, even though we should be the ones to benefit from the result of our own work.

#the hunger games #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games theory #katniss is maude ivory's granddaugther #katniss everdeen #peeta melark #katniss and peeta #suzanne collins #coriolanus snow #lucy gray #lucy gray baird #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #hunger games books #politics #political thinking #free palestine #free congo #brave new world

[txttletale]

My question about growth/the venture capitalist mindset is like … how have venture capitalists and the like not figured this out already? It’s been a decade, give or take a few years, since the internet started being monetized to hell and back, and if we all know they’re not really making a profit (bc no one clicks on ads, obviously) then why are the structures still in place?im looking at all this and I feel like a dunce bc I just don’t get how ppl can keep ofunelling money into something that we all know doesn’t work lol ! :0

there's a couple reasons for this, but the tldr of it is that if you're wile e. coyote and you're running in the air over the edge of a cliff, it's in your material interests not to look down

let's say you're a venture capitalist and you've put $10 million into hypnospace, the hot new social media site. when you invest into a company, you invest at a certain price--the company has an idea of how much it's worth, and that determines what price they'll sell their shares at. let's say you buy at $10 a share, so you have a million shares in hypnospace. that $10-a-share-valuation was based on hypnospace telling you (in, say, 2012, when this was still believable and even seemed self-evident) that becuse they were seeing huge growth in daily active users, they'd eventually become insanely profitable.

now usually even you, a venture capitalist, a lifeform mostly resembling a parasitic flatworm, might be a little cautious about this investment. will they really become profitable? it seems risky. however because it's 2012, the US federal reserve has been giving out loans at their ZIRP (zero interest rate policy) for four years in a response to the 2008 financial crisis. what that means is that it's incredibly cheap for banks to borrow money, which in turn means it's incredibly cheap for you, a venture capitalist, to borrow that money from banks. when money is cheap, risky investments make a lot of sense--when you can get an extremely low-interest-rate loan, throwing that money down the toilet is unfortunate but no longer catastrophic. so you put your $10 million into hypnospace because the risk is artificially lowered by the ZIRP, making it well worth the reward.

now it's five years later and it's 2017 and it's becoming increasingly clear that hypnospace.horse is probably not going to became the new facebook and that perhaps there will in fact only be one facebook. bummer. but you've still got a million shares in it. this means that you're directly invested--not in the company becoming profitable, but in the valuation of that company going up. if people can be convinced to buy hypnospace shares at $12-a-share, you can make off with a cool $2 million even though the website never did anything useful or made any money. on the other hand, if people start thinking 'hey, this website has never made any money and it's obviously never going to, why would we buy shares in it'--shares plummet to $1 a share, and you're out $9 million! worst case scenario!

so even if you, the venture capitalist, realize that the website's a boondoggle, it's in your best interest to convince everyone around you that no, it really will become profitable, and its shares (that you hold some of!) are really valuable and you should want to buy them. and this doesn't just mean lying to other venture capitalists (although they love doing this)--capitalists pay close attention to sales of stocks. if you realize that hypnospace is never going to make money and decide to cut your losses and abruptly offload all million shares, other capitalists will interpret that for what it means--that you've totally lost confidence in seeing return on your investment--and many of them will panic and also start selling their shares, while capitalists with no hypnospace shares will think 'boy, this hypnospace thing seems like a real wash, i don't want to buy shares in that'.

so what do you do? you keep putting money in. if the company's increasing in valuation the more it grows, then even if you're crystal-clear aware that growth has no path to profitability, you still gain wealth for every month that the business stays afloat by burning money, because the valuation goes up and your shares are worth more. the ideal outcome for a venture capitalist investing into a tech company is to make a big investment, let the company bleed money while it grows for several years, then sell--not all at once, not abruptly, and not while the price is in stagnation or decline. it's one big game of hot potato for when the gig is finally up. not every venture capitalist has to be a totally credulous dipshit--just the last one in the line.

#ask #now a lot of the calculus on this has changed with interest rates on the rise again #but this explains basically the last decade of the tech sector

[plush-rabbit]

Working for Mammon

A/N: I can't get this dumb spider clown out of my head oh my gosh. Also you're a singer here. Jack of all trades ig. enjoy!!

Fizzarolli was his money maker- compared to the other business and people Mammon invested in, they were nothing compared to the imp. The only one who ever came close to the clown’s revenue was you. You were a close second. There were moments where your sales would rival Fizzarolli’s and you were the starlight in the sin’s eyes, only to be replaced by someone that burned brighter than you ever could. Then, of course, the imp goes and quits and you’re bumped from being second place, to first. 

Being number one comes with a lot of responsibilities. Sales cannot falter. You cannot falter. Not even for a moment. Any grand gesture or event that there is must be perfect. You’re marketable. And because of that, the Sin of Greed treasures oh so much. You may be a lower class demon, but you belong to him. Leaving you alone can bring all sorts of trouble, trouble that he isn’t going to tolerate. He dresses you in fine clothes, adorns you in sweet things that came from your pay- you deserve to own something nice that you worked so hard for is what he tells you. You are protected and cared for, treated like porcelain and pressured into a diamond.  

Ever since the abrupt departure of the imp clown, it’s clear that the Sin of Greed has a bit of an attachment issue. He hardly likes to leave you unattended just in case people start to whisper to you about just how covetous he is. He lost quite a profit with Fizzarolli and the Sin would never say it out loud, nor even entertain the idea, but it left him rattled. He treated him better than the underlings, but that isn’t saying much. Maybe he was given too much freedom and became involved with Asmodeus, and that put some wicked ideas into his head, but it’s a mistake that will not happen again. You have guards that take care of you, and there’s hardly a moment when Greed isn’t seen with you in public. He likes to know where you are- always calling and messaging, appearing if you haven’t answered within five minutes. He always has this scared look in his eyes, and he hands always clasp around your biceps, and it’s silent, as if he’s trying to contain his anger, and trying to mask any worry that he had, but it’s always noticeable with the appearance of his many eyes and the frown that’s stitched onto his face. He’s consuming, taking and wanting, and it’s never enough.

It comes to no surprise that the Sin of Greed desires to be around you at all times and in doing so, he always has a hand on you. It was different in the beginning. It felt possessive, like a child gripping onto their blanket, held in a fisted hand that won’t let go no matter how hard it’s tugged at. You remember the sore feeling, the way you were dragged around like a dog and unable to go anyway without his approval and without him. Now, it’s different. He holds your hand softly, interlaced and pulling you closer to him. You can lead him around so long as you squeeze his hand. In public, he has you pulled close to him- hands around your shoulders as he whispers for you to not mess up the performance, an arm pulling you close to him as you walk through a crowded area. He can’t seem to let go of you.

Your attention has to be on him constantly. In public during a talk show, you sit beside him and you look up at him, your hand interlaced with his, another free hand on your knee- the benefits of having multiple arms. You have to talk about him, mention how wonderful he is, and not look away. It feels marketable, there’s no intimacy to it. It’s all for show. But then you go to his home, and he whines and grumbles about everything and nothing at all as his head lays in your lap. He only sighs and mumbles something barely comprehensible when you begin to scratch the crown of his head. Or he’ll pull you close to him in private, watching some random movie, all for an excuse to have you close to him, desperate to just touch you, his hands scratching lightly at your side and splayed over the top of your thigh. He’ll twist at your hair and trace shapes against your skin, and sometimes, you forget that he’s a Sin. 

No matter how you look at it, you have to be marketable. You have to sell plushies, prints, keychains, chips and sodas and endorse perfume and clothes. And you have to sell sexbots. It took time to convince you to agree to have your likeness placed onto something that was going to be used for lewd purposes. It took even longer to convince Asmodeus to create them. But it was all worth it. The profits that came in were amazing, better than he could have ever expected. However, you still belong to him, and it comes to his attention just how creepy fans could be. Were they like this with Fizzarolli as well? No, surely he would have noticed.You’re no different than the imp that you replaced. But when he sees a fan try to get a picture of you in your dressing room, he feels angry. Rageful, even. He sees how panicky you get, and he loves how you cling to him in fear and for protection, but he hates seeing you so sad. For a brief moment, he reconsiders recalling the sexbots, but then he gets a notification that the bots are out of stock. He tells you that he’ll hire more security for you with a kiss on the top of your head. 

The Sin of Greed likes to act like he’s in a romantic relationship with you. He plans your outfits to match with his. It doesn’t have to be a direct copy of what he wears- honestly, he has some semblance of tact- but he wants to coordinate with you. The colors have to bounce off each other, the theme of the outfits, the jewelry, and accessories. He wants to match with you. It’s easy for people to start rumors that the two of you are together, and he doesn’t stop them. If people think you belong to him in a romantic way, it doesn't matter. The rumors do encourage him to be more touchy with you, to hold you closer and have a reason to not let you be alone. Sometimes he’ll play it up, talking about how pretty you are, and how your singing voice is even better in person and people should really buy tickets for your next performance. He’ll even mention how in the next act, he’ll come in with some throwing knives- just a bit of a kick to add to your performance. 

When he books you at a more high-end event, he likes to have you sing ballads. You confess to  him that you don’t know where to look during those types of songs. The more energetic ones are easier because you’re constantly moving and performing, but ballads are softer, and you can’t just look at strangers. He’d never admit to anyone that it was just a way to get you to look at him as something more than a manager. He tells you to look at him- to sing to him. During those few minutes where you long for him and declare your love and how you’d wish to kiss him again and again, nothing else matters to him. You sing to him, not to the others. You care only for him during those minutes until the song pauses and a new one comes along and you sing to him again and again. And what is he but greed personified, and the desire to hear you tell him that you wish for him and no one else, keeps your nights busy until your throat is too sore to sing.

As a clown, he takes great satisfaction in knowing people are laughing because of him. It fills his pockets with green and it keeps the masses entertained enough to keep coming back. It didn't matter who was laughing, it just mattered that he was getting paid. But then he makes you laugh. And it’s nice, and loud, and it’s your laughter that has him pausing and feeling his face grow warm. It’s uncontrollable, and your smile is lovely. Ever since he found out he likes your laugh, he does his best to keep your laughter going. He wants to hear it, to drown in it, to memorize the sound and never let another soul hear it. 

Mammon is a manager first and a sort-of-romantic partner second. He pushes you to be better than perfect. You can't afford to lose money. But when you’re at your limit, when you’re too exhausted and irritable, there are few times where you actively fight back and grow resentful and it frightens him. You don't talk to him, you avoid anything of his, you detach yourself from him.. Even if he does hold your hand, he can feel how cold you are. He hates how you affect him so much. If he makes you upset, he makes up for it but it's always half-hearted. Mammon tells you that he didn't mean to push you so hard, but he wants you to be perfect. He cares for you so much, he knows that you can be better than the imp. So he sits beside you, grumbles something that isn't an apology and he looks so sad, you can't help but forgive him. He'll pull you close in private and tell you how you did such a good job, that you're his treasure and star and where would he be without you.

#helluva boss #helluva boss mammon #helluva boss mammon x reader #someone hit me over the head #idk what it is #but greed characters just got me feeling a sort of way #and i hate it #quick someone get the bat #and whack me #this is not the mammon that i fell in love with