#his suit should be practical not flashy

[navybrat817]

Just Like That

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky suggests staying in a hotel together before an undercover mission, which would be fine if you didn't have a massive crush on the super soldier. Word Count: Almost 5k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, pining, flirting, slight possessive behavior, talk of undercover mission, "only one bed" trope, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: A combination of @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge and my Bucky Barnes Smut Menu, courtesy of @ellemj. "Only One Bed" Trope and the dialogue prompt in bold italics. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The engagement ring on your finger suited you. Not large or overly flashy, the single diamond radiated a subtle sparkle. It was beautiful and a perfect fit, a representation of the unifying love of marriage. When you looked at it under the light, it was almost as if you could feel the love that Bucky had for you.

If only that were the case.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” You asked, taking a seat at the table across from Bucky.

“So we can practice and make sure we’re a convincing couple,” he replied.

You sighed as you glanced around the hotel room for the umpteenth time. A small sitting area, a dining and kitchen combination, a single bathroom, and a bedroom. When you pointed out that there was only one bed, Bucky reminded you of the expectation that the two of you had to sleep together while on assignment since you were going on a couple's retreat. Which wouldn't be an issue if you didn't have a crush on him, right?

Right.

You were completely enamored with Bucky Barnes, the handsome former assassin turned agent for the revamped SHIELD. Instacrush wasn't something you experienced often, so he took you by surprise. It was pathetic to fall for him so hard and quickly. It had to be some sort of karma or divine intervention that you were with him in a hotel room.

Just the two of you.

“You know,” he began, wetting his lips as he leaned back in his chair. You blinked, only because you didn't want him to call you out on staring. “You don't have to look so miserable to be here. Is my company that terrible?”

“What? No. Bucky, you aren't terrible company,” you promised, slumping a bit in your chair. The last thing you wanted to do was upset him. “Just been a bit since I've been in a relationship and I’m kind of rusty.”

“You're talking to a guy who hasn't been on a real date since the 40s,” he deadpanned.

He had a point. Plus, from what you understood, Bucky wasn't exactly interested in dating anyone. Every time Steve or Natasha suggested he go on a date, he found a way to brush it off or change the subject.

Even if he was interested in dating, did he think of you as anything beyond a colleague?

Taking this assignment may have been a mistake.

“I’m just not sure I’m the right one for this job,” you said.

“You’re perfect for this job. Why would you think otherwise?”

You froze like a deer in headlights, even as his compliment warmed your heart. It meant a lot that he thought you would do the job well. But how were you supposed to answer that question? That you adored him and it would be torture to pretend to be with him for a week just to back to being coworkers after?

“We should practice,” you suggested instead of giving him an answer. The backstory wasn't overly elaborate, but you had to get it right.

He leaned forward, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Did someone say something to make you think you wouldn't be good for this assignment?” He asked in a low voice. “Because I'll straighten them out.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from whimpering. The thought of him putting someone in their place to make you feel better was swoon-worthy. “No, Bucky. No one said anything. You're right. I’m good for this,” you said before you added, “We’re good together.”

You couldn't read the look he gave you and it became more difficult not to squirm under his gaze. “Yeah,” he whispered, leaning back and clearing his throat. “So. We’re engaged. Going to a resort for a much needed vacation. We’ll have to mingle with some of the guests in between investigating the owner. One of the first questions will be how we met.”

With an exhale, you recited, “We met at a coffee shop. We both ordered the same drink.”

“An iced caramel macchiato,” he said.

“And we reached for the drink at the same time,” you smiled, making a show out of reaching for the glass on the table. “Our fingers touched first. Our eyes met second.”

“And I immediately asked you out,” he smiled.

Your heart swelled. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world when he smiled like that. “You did,” you said, trying to blink the longing from your eyes. “We went to dinner and talked a bit about ourselves. You told me you're a mechanic and I told you I’m a teacher. And once dinner was over, we went back to that same coffee shop and we shared an iced caramel macchiato.”

“Even proposed to you at the same shop,” he said, gesturing to your left hand. “But I actually got the ring after our first date because I knew I wanted you to be my girl,” he said with such conviction that you found it hard to breathe.

The way his eyes softened as he gazed at you, you found yourself believing him for a moment. You had to stay rooted in realism though. The point of the mission besides the actual mission was to act as if you two were crazy about each other.

Not that you had to do any acting on your part.

You cleared your throat and pulled your hand back from the glass. “If only that were true,” you said, absentmindedly twisting the ring around your finger. You weren't cynical about love, but this whole thing was a reminder that you were single and alone.

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Heat crept up your neck. You shouldn't have said anything. “I mean, it just would've been nice if we met at a coffee shop,” you replied to avoid saying you wanted to be his girl.

“What’s wrong with how we met?” He asked, crossing his arms.

The metal arm gleamed under the light. You noticed that he had a tendency to wear long sleeves and gloves whenever he was in the building, but seeing him with his sleeve pushed up and missing glove? You would almost say he was comfortable around you.

Again, he had to play the part right.

You pulled yourself from your thoughts when he said your name, which sounded like it melted on his tongue. It made you press your thighs together. You needed to stay professional. “Do you not remember what happened or are you just being nice?” You asked.

Months ago, the day you met Bucky, Steve informed you that he planned to introduce you to him after he came back from a long assignment. Not only were you excited to meet one of his best friends and a great soldier, but you had wanted to make a good impression on him. What you did was make an ass out of yourself when you turned the corner only to smack right into the former Winter Soldier.

And splattered your beverage on both of you in the process.

Instacrush and a horrible impression on your part.

Bucky’s lips curled in a smile as your eyes widened. “You do remember,” you said, wadding up a nearby napkin and tossing it at his face, which he easily caught. “Oh, my God! That’s why you chose ‘coffee shop' for this, didn't you?”

You concentrated so much on getting the backstory right that it didn't occur to you that he was maybe poking fun at you. He wasn't the kind of guy that liked making others feel bad though. Tease you, sure. Outright make fun of you at the risk of hurting your feelings? He would never.

“Hey, I didn't choose how we met, but I also didn't object,” he said, raising his hands in surrender when you went to throw another napkin at him. “And I wouldn't forget meeting you, doll. You make a lasting impression.”

You wished you had done something to make him remember you besides spilling a drink on him. “I guess making an idiot out of myself is a lasting impression,” you teased.

Something dark flashed in his eyes, making your breath hitch. “That’s not what I meant. You didn't make an idiot out of yourself and I don't like you thinking that or talking down about yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, not used to someone getting so defensive at your self-depreciation. There was something sexy and heartwarming about it. “You were very nice about the whole incident.”

“You were nice, too,” he said, gesturing to his torso. “I mean, you offered to buy me a new shirt.”

“Because I spilled my drink on it! I felt bad,” you said.

“And when I said you didn't have to buy me a new shirt, you said, ‘Are you sure I can't pay for the dry cleaning at least, Sergeant Barnes?’” he said in a falsetto voice.

He chuckled when you rolled your eyes. “I don't sound like that, first of all, and I was being considerate,” you said. You couldn't believe he remembered your exact words. “And you just gave me that half confused smile of yours before I grabbed napkins for both of us to clean up.”

“You mean this?” He asked, his lips stretching in that familiar awkward grin.

“Yeah, that,” you giggled, your heart doing that funny flip that happened far too often around him.

In the beginning, whenever you smiled at him, he gave you that very look in return. Somewhere along the way, the uncomfortable glances on his end became genuine fondness. It didn't mean anything though.

Just an agent being kind to another agent.

Bucky stared at you as you continued to giggle at the memory. “I’m sorry. I just-”

“I love your laugh,” he said, almost making you choke on your own breath. Nothing like forgetting how to be a human and breathe. “And your smile.”

Maybe he had switched back into practice mode. “You do?” You asked, playing along as you smiled directly at him.

He swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, I do,” he replied, his voice thick as he unfolded his arms. “You know, you're one of the people that actually smiles at me. And you look me in the eye when you talk to me.”

“Why wouldn't I?”

“Because some people are still afraid of me,” he whispered.

Your heart sank. He was a good man. A hero wrongly painted as a villain. It wasn't fair what he went through and you had no reason to fear him.

Why couldn't everyone else see the good in him?

“I’m not afraid of you, Bucky,” you promised. And after what he went through, frightening people was the last thing he would do. “Never have been. Never will be.”

“Maybe you should be,” he muttered, some of the light leaving his eyes.

Your eyes narrowed as you tempered the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Seeing this vulnerable side of him also brought out your protective instinct. “Listen to me. You’re amazing and a good man, okay? And if I don't get to call myself an idiot for spilling a drink on you, then you don't get to say I should be scared of you, Sergeant Barnes,” you said with an air of finality.

He gave you an impressed smile. “Just like that? Because those are totally different things you're comparing.”

“Just like that,” you said, putting your hand on the table for him to take if he wished. “Do you trust that I'll have your back on this mission? Because I trust that you'll have mine no matter what.”

He stared at your upturned hand for a moment before he took it. “You're one of the only people I do trust,” he admitted.

His eyes bore into yours as you tried to find the words to respond. He wasn’t feeding you a line to make you feel good about yourself. Bucky Barnes trusted you.

“Then trust me when I say we got this,” you promised. You would look out for him and let him know that he hadn’t misplaced his trust in you.

“Why don't you have a boyfriend?” He asked suddenly.

The switch in topic jarred you, but he didn’t let go of your hand. “That’s. I’m. What? How is that relevant?”

It wasn't smooth, but it was better than blurting out that your hopeless crush on him was one of the major factors.

“I’m curious,” he shrugged.

“Oh. Well. My last boyfriend dumped me for being an agent. Seriously, he didn't like the fact that I could kick his ass if I wanted to,” you told him, squeezing his hand without meaning to. He didn’t object. “Which I wouldn't.”

“You could kick my ass if you wanted to,” he winked. Physically, Bucky was broad and strong. You weren’t sure you could take him in a real fight, but you could take him another way if he ever offered. “And your ex sounds like an asshole if he can’t stand beside and support an amazing woman.”

You smiled humorlessly. “Thanks, Bucky, but I’m not-”

“I swear to fuck if you talk down about yourself again, I will put you over my knee,” he threatened, his eyes darker than they were seconds ago.

You didn’t laugh as he stared at you. Neither did he. Your clothes suddenly felt too heavy, your body too warm. Licking your lips, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “Is that a promise?”

Bucky pushed his chair back and pointed at his thigh, his eyes still on you. “Get over here and find out.”

Oh, fuck.

The sound of Bucky’s phone ringing snapped you both out of whatever spell you two were under. “Shit,” he muttered, taking his hand from yours. “It’s Steve. I better-”

“Yeah, you should answer that,” you said, almost knocking the chair over as you stood. “I think I'm going to call it a night.”

“Wait, what?” He asked, answering the phone. “Hold on, punk,” he said, covering the screen as he looked at you. “You’re going to bed now?”

Guilt settled in your stomach at the hurt in his eyes. “Just going to lay down. I may not go to sleep right away. And we can practice more in the morning,” you replied. You just needed to step out of the room and take a breath.

He waited a beat before he nodded, the tension still lingering. “I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded, leaving him alone so he could talk to Steve.

You splashed a bit of water on your face when you went to the bathroom to change. The assignment hadn’t started and you couldn’t keep your cool. With squinted eyes, you pointed at your reflection and mentally scolded yourself. Yes, you wanted Bucky Barnes and maybe, just maybe, some part of him wanted you. At least, he wanted you enough to put you over his knee.

You couldn't have him though. Could you? Mixing business with pleasure could lead to complications if you crossed that line, but it wasn’t like you’d break some major bylaw by being his girl.

Now wasn’t the time to think about that.

“Get your shit together,” you hissed, rushing through your nighttime routine and changing into your comfortable yet sexy nightgown.

Your eyes went to the bed when you left the bathroom. Just a regular hotel bed. Inviting, but not overly frilly. Large enough for the both of you, but small enough that you might end up in each other’s arms.

“It’s going to be a long night,” you muttered.

Sighing, you left a light on for Bucky to see and crawled into bed, shutting your eyes as he wrapped up his call with Steve. You tried to block out the sound of his footsteps as he made his way to the bathroom. Maybe his nighttime routine would take a bit longer than you thought and you could drift off and wake up to the sight of his beautiful eyes and-

The bed dipped as Bucky curled up behind you, your eyes opening when he placed his arm around your waist and pulled you back against him. You were conscious of every shift in his body, every breath he took. How you could smell his lingering cologne as he pressed himself closer. How he ran warmer than you and you wanted him to heat you up even though you weren’t cold.

And that he wasn’t wearing a fucking shirt.

“I know you aren’t sleeping,” he whispered, his fingers brushing along the fabric that covered your skin. “Your heart’s beating too fast.”

He was right. It was about ready to burst through your chest. “Can’t sleep.”

“Why not?” He asked, helping you roll over so you were on your back. He didn’t remove his hand though. “Did my ‘threat’ make you uncomfortable?”

“No, it didn't,” you assured him, heat pooling between your legs that you couldn't prevent. “I wouldn't have continued with the banter if I was uncomfortable.”

“Just making sure,” he said. “I was only teasing.”

You huffed out a laugh in an effort to cover up the crushing feeling in your chest, your arousal fading to a dull ache. “Of course, you were,” you uttered. Teasing. Nothing more. “Good night, Bucky,” you said, turning your head away.

He brought a hand to your cheek and brought your face back toward him. How did his eyes look so blue in the faint light? “Don’t go to sleep yet, please.”

“Why not?”

“You rushed to bed and now you're shutting down. I clearly said or did something wrong,” he sighed, which made you feel bad. He hadn't done anything wrong in your eyes since it wasn’t his fault you wanted his teasing to mean something. “I need to fix it.”

“There’s nothing to fix because you didn't break anything,” you said, the ring heavy on the finger. “But can I ask for a favor?”

“Of course,” he whispered.

You didn’t dare search out his gaze when you said, “I may need reminders this week that you don't actually have feelings for me.”

A few seconds went by before he asked in a small voice, “What?”

You took a breath to compose yourself. The last thing you needed to do was get upset for no good reason. “We’re going to hold hands and cuddle and share a bed and be a couple, but you may need to give me a reality check now and again that you only see me as an agent. Okay?”

Maybe he’d ask Steve for a new partner in the morning.

“You think I only see you as an agent?” He asked, sighing when you nodded. “I used to be good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“Teasing. Flirting,” he answered, leaning in close. He stopped just before his lips touched yours. “Kissing.”

“Wait. You were flirting with me?” you said, not moving forward or back as you put a hand on his chest. His heart raced as fast as yours. And your brain couldn’t compute that implication that he wanted to kiss you. “You weren’t just practicing for the assignment?”

He huffed out a laugh this time. “You’re killing me, doll,” he whispered, closing the distance.

You imagined Bucky kissing you before, but didn’t think it would ever be so soft. His lips barely brushed against yours, but it felt like the beginning of something more. It tempted you like nothing else ever had. He must’ve felt it, too, since he deepened it. You melted. You surrendered.

You never stood a chance.

“So, you like me?” You asked when he pulled back a little to gaze at you. “I’m sorry. I just need to hear you say it because I really like you and have for months. Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t have said that because we have a whole week together for this assignment and now you know and I don't want it to be weird.”

Your mind almost shut down when he gave you a full-blown smile and said, “Yeah, I like you. I thought it was obvious. I tried dropping little hints, talking about your smile and trusting you.” He chuckled almost shyly as his words sank in. “I took this assignment because of you.”

A moment passed before you giggled, happiness blooming in your chest. Bucky Barnes liked you. Wanted you. “Thank fuck,” you breathed, pulling him back down for another kiss.

He groaned, ravaging your mouth as he moved on top of you. His knee pushed your legs apart so he could settle between them, swallowing down your whimpers when he pressed his growing hardness against your pussy. He ground his hips, your panties soaked as his tongue tangled with yours. The man kissed you like he had something to prove.

Like he wanted to own you.

His muscles rippled as he leaned up and grasped the bottom of your nightie. The vision of him above you like this was now engraved in your mind. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

Sleeping with him was moving fast considering you just confessed your feelings for each other, but you didn't care. “Don't stop,” you whispered, quivering as he tugged the fabric over your head.

Your hands moved up to cover your chest before he gripped your wrists. “Are you trying to hide from me?” He questioned, his smirk playful in comparison to the uncertainty in his gaze.

You didn't want him doubting himself or your want for him for a second.

“Maybe? I mean, look at you and look at…”

You wouldn't knock on your looks since you were generally confident in your appearance, but the super soldier was an entirely different level of gorgeous. He towered over even the largest of agents, with the exception of Steve, and his dark lashes framing his steel eyes were enough to pull you under.

And who were you compared to him? Just another agent. Average.

“Don't,” he whispered, releasing a wrist so he could cup your breast. You arched your back and any uncertainty in his eyes before faded when a moan escaped your lips. “You're so fucking beautiful.”

The praise almost made your eyes water as he brought his head down, losing focus when he swept his tongue across your nipple. Your eyes fluttered shut as he did it again, a wave from a sea of ecstasy crashing over you. Your heart thudded faster, addicted to the feel of his sinful mouth.

“You’re the reason I don't have a boyfriend,” you whined, your fingers twisting in his hair. Why did you say that?

He smirked against your skin before he reached down and tore your panties away. “I haven't gone on a date because of you.”

Your body throbbed with need as you met his gaze. “You're just saying that to get in my pants,” you joked.

His eyes raked down your body, stopping between your trembling thighs as he pushed his pants and underwear down. “If I had my way, I would've taken you out first,” he said, drawing a moan from you when he wrapped a hand around his thick cock. “But all I can think about right now is how loud you’ll say my name when I make you come.”

“Bucky,” you moaned, tempted to reach down and touch yourself to the sight of him.

“Louder than that,” he said smugly, rubbing the tip of his cock along your slick folds. “Fuck, I wanna take my time and explore you. Make you feel like a goddess. Treat you the way you deserve.”

It warmed your heart and sent another wave of desire through you knowing he wanted to take care of you. “I know you'll treat me well,” you smiled, opening your legs wider. “But for now, please, fuck me.”

He didn't ask about birth control, which you were on. You didn't ask about condoms. It didn't matter. You wanted to feel all of him.

You glanced down as he lined himself up, watching as he slowly eased into you. It was overwhelming as you took every inch, your mouth falling open with a moan. You floated in a cloud of lust, the sound of his groan reaching your ears.

“Look at me,” he ordered as he bottomed out.

Your eyes flew to his as he gripped your chin. The feel of him inside you, his eyes staring so intently into yours that he practically touched your soul. It was almost too much. And that was when he began to move, the weight of his body on top of yours as he fucked you in slow and deep thrusts. It was the kind of lovemaking that would make you crave more.

Crave him.

“Knew you'd take me well,” he grunted. You whined, the praise going straight to your core as you tightened around his thick cock. Your walls couldn't stop gripping him as he slid in and out. “Knew your pussy would be greedy for me. Won’t let me go.”

Your head fell back against the pillow, dizzy as he trapped your body under his. As he rolled his hips, you wondered if he’d let you ride him at some point. Maybe he’d fuck up into you as he brought your hips down. Or maybe he’d lay back and cup your breasts, let the weight bounce in his hands as you took all of him.

You’d take whatever he gave you.

The growing pleasure within you was like you were burning from the inside out, each movement from him stoking the flames. His low groans mixed with your whines, his thrusts increasing in speed when he brought his thumb to your clit. Your hand worked its way back into his hair as you cried out his name, your control slipping further and further away as he took over.

“Just like that,” he moaned. “Don’t hold back on me. Wanna hear every pretty sound you make.”

“Bucky, I'm gonna…” you trailed off, your orgasm building fast in your core and ready to burst.

“Come,” he finished for you, a filthy smirk on his face as he laced his fingers with yours.

One more thrust and you were gone, his name falling from your lips as you came. Your mouth stayed open as you spasmed, pleasure rushing from head to toe. You panted and didn't care if you'd ever properly breathe again. That was how good it felt.

“I’m close, doll,” he gritted, resembling a growl as he continued to fuck you and chase his release. “Gonna come inside you. Gonna own you.”

“Come inside me, Bucky,” you begged, watching through half-lidded eyes as his face contorted in ecstasy. It was such an erotic sight. “Please.”

He buried himself deep with a long moan as he filled you in hot, thick spurts, nuzzling his face in your neck when he finished. He said your name as he heavily breathed against your neck and it was the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. You wrapped your arms around him when he stayed inside you, not at all bothered as your mixed release slowly trickled out.

You didn't want him to let you go.

“Well,” you huffed, a dopey smile on your face as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I don't think we’ll have a problem convincing people we care about each other.”

He chuckled, kissing your warm skin. “And we won't have a problem sharing a bed,” he said, keeping you close as you yawned. “Sleep, doll. I’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you, too,” you said, feeling him smile against you as you drifted off.

The delicious ache between your thighs was the second thing you noticed when you woke up. The first, of course, was Bucky’s arm and leg draped over you: warm, protective, perfect. He was still fast asleep, the blanket pooled around his waist, completely at ease with the world. You could get used to waking up like this.

You hesitated before you touched his cheek, not wanting to wake him as you kissed his forehead. You wished you had time to kiss every scar on his body and worship him the way he said he wanted to worship you. The two of you would have to leave the bed sooner or later. There was work to do.

“Mmm. Morning,” he said, his voice laced with sleep as he cracked an eye open.

“Morning,” you whispered, cuddling closer as he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed over the ring. The motion made you brush against his crotch and you were close enough to hear the hitch in his breath. You did it again, keeping your gaze innocent as he opened his eyes more and groaned.

Yes, there was work to do, but it was still early.

“You’re still horny? Didn’t I fuck you hard enough last night?” He teased.

“Yeah, I’m still horny,” you replied. Waking up next to him would arouse anyone. “Need you to fuck me again.”

“You won’t be able to walk if I fuck you again,” he smirked, rolling on top of you and digging his fingers into your waist.

“Should’ve known you’d be a cocky boyfriend,” you teased back, your heart thundering in your chest as he leaned down and skimmed kisses along your jaw. “Sorry, we didn’t put a label on this and there’s still stuff to figure out and the mission and-”

“Hey. Boyfriend, your man, whatever you want to call me, I’m yours,” he cut you off, his mouth drifting to your neck. “And I still owe you a date, got it? You’re my girl. You’re mine.”

“I'm yours,” you gasped when he nipped your skin hard enough to sting, his tongue soothing it after. You were his and he was yours. “So, we're a couple now? Just like that?” You smiled as he worked his way back to your lips.

Bucky answered you with a kiss. “Just like that.”

I struggled a bit with this one after having to scrap almost 2k and go in another direction, but I ended up falling in love with it. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky fic #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #bucky x you #the winter soldier #suzblinddatewritingchallenge #bucky barnes smut menu

[highonmarvel]

Ribs

Bucky Barnes: Mob!Bucky finds you. 18+ only.

additional content warnings here!

CONTENT WARNING, PLEASE READ: This piece includes graphic depictions of domestic violence. Seriously, this is really dark; do not proceed if you are uncomfortable with explicit descriptions of physical and verbal abuse and rape. This is your warning. This is fucking dark. I can not stress this enough. I am fucked up.

Non Con Warning!

What’s scarier than dating Bucky? Leaving him.

You thought with dating the most notorious mob boss in New York, the biggest danger would be his enemies, no: the biggest threat to your safety was him. When you had first met him, you hadn’t known who he was, having only moved to New York a few months prior. He was charming, and he had an air of danger about him you couldn’t help but be attracted to; you thought it would be fun, a New York bad boy, he was all mysterious. You didn’t have any friends at the time, so no one could have warned you about who he really was, and by the time you found out, you were in too deep.

Maybe him being suspiciously rich should have raised a red flag, because even the most pretentious of the wealthy don’t take a limo to a bar, but he had, that first night you met him. The loud chatter had ever so slightly dimmed when he entered the bar, but you only thought it was because he was wearing an expensive suit, and though you rolled your eyes at the flashy display, you couldn’t help but stare at him as he made his way through the room—crowds parted, everyone tried to appear that they hadn’t noticed him, but it was crystal they had. You can’t not notice a man like that.

He disappeared into a back room with two men trailing behind him, and after a few minutes emerged looking slightly disheveled, but satisfied. You tried your hardest to focus on… something else when he sat down beside you and ordered a whiskey, but that was practically impossible when everything about him was magnetic. You chanced a look at him only to find him already staring at you, blue eyes twinkling with a mischievousness you couldn’t quite place and a small smirk. He had taken you home that night.

You hadn’t fled because of his business, selfishly, you could live with the fact he hurt other people—for a while, you could live with the fact he hurt you too, because he just had you captivated. He was harsh, brutal, but could also be loving, he bent over backwards to your every desire—say the word and he’d do it.

Except when you asked him to stop.

You had to leave New York altogether, you knew; he ran the whole fucking city, there was no way you could hide from him in the kingdom he ruled. You had struggled to pick where to go next, if you had had the money, you honestly would have left the fucking continent, started a new life in Namibia or Australia or Japan or however far away from him as you could get, but for now you were restricted to the States. Was Los Angeles too big a city for him to find you, or was it too obvious? Maybe he had people there, you had no idea. Would a small town be too quiet to scream for help, or so obscure he wouldn’t even think to look there?

You settled on a random town in Colorado.

You had ditched your phone the second you could—you had had to hold onto it a bit longer in order to get around, and received many calls and angry texts, but you had tossed it into a street somewhere in Oklahoma and picked up a random brick phone just to have. You thought you were being dramatic at first, taking all these measures, but no, James Barnes is the most powerful man in New York state, more powerful than you could have imagined when you first discovered who he was. He runs everything. He always gets what he wants, and he wants you.

I’ll find you you fucking cunt.

His last text message to you before you had destroyed your phone. You didn’t doubt he could.

You cut your hair, dyed it a shade darker, and spent the first month looking over your shoulder, jumping at shadows, barely speaking to anyone, unsure of who you could trust and who you couldn’t, even from so far away you remained cautious. Picking a job was difficult; if you got an office job, could he find out through fucking white collar records or something? If you got a job in retail, would someone recognise you and alert him?

You got a job at a bookstore—fairly quiet, and the rows of shelves seemed like good enough hiding places were he to hunt you down. Hunt.

In front of the mirror, you pull up your t-shirt to examine your ribs: the bruises are starting to fade, and there’s only a dull pain when you run cold fingers over the light blue. The final reminders of the night you had feared for your life, the night you had decided you had to leave, were starting to fade.

Bucky had gotten violent many times before, but never had you feared for your life; you genuinely thought he was going to kill you.

He had come home fucking livid like you’d never seen before, and three months later you still have no clue as to why. At least when he had been drinking his blows were slightly less hard and you were sometimes (very rarely) able to outrun him and lock yourself in a bathroom for the night, but that night he was drunk purely on anger.

You were genuinely surprised he hadn’t broken your ribs; just hit after hit until you could barely breathe—you thought you’d suffocate. Turns out he had fractured your right foot, but even still you left New York limping badly, knowing if you stopped even to just get it checked out, you’d never make it out the city.

Here, in your new town, you got your foot checked out and fixed up by a friendly doctor, Dean, who you’d taken a liking to. Though it was a bit worse for wear considering you’d left it unchecked for a week, and even now you still couldn’t walk quite right, he assured you you’d make a full recovery.

Dean and you had been growing closer, and you thought he would eventually ask you out, until one day he stopped visiting you at work—usually he’d come in every Wednesday afternoon, but he hadn’t, and you couldn’t reach him online. You even went into his practice, but his assistant had said he’d just taken a camping trip. Your stomach twisted, but you left it, and took he had just gone away for a while.

Deep down, you knew.

The third Wednesday afternoon Dean hasn’t dropped it. You walk back to your place a little down; despite not knowing him well, you were really growing to like him.

You sigh, kicking off your shoes as you enter your apartment and into the pile by the door. You turn on the lights as you make your way through the small place, still limping slightly: corridor, light on; kitchen, light on; living room, light on.

You can’t even say your blood runs ice cold, more like it freezes in your veins.

Bucky is seated comfortably in your armchair, of course nursing a drink, face entirely stoic, and eyes fixated on yours, as if he had been staring at that exact spot for hours, knowing you would fall into his line of vision.

But the door was locked, you want to cry, How did he get in? No windows are broken, nothing.

“Sweetheart,” he coos as he sets his drink on the side table, “I’ve missed you.”

“Why?” is all you can muster, barely a whisper, more like a nearly silent whistle in wind, one you can only hear if you were to really strain for it, and if you knew what to listen for. Why is he here? After three fucking months, you thought (hoped) he’d just lost interest—this can’t be the first time he’s had a girl run away from him considering how he treated you. Why is he so set on this? You can only imagine it’s stubbornness and pride, not wanting to lose a prize, no matter how ill he treated it. And why you?

Of course, though, you can’t articulate any of these thoughts, you can barely even think them, can’t process them, all turning to a light buzz in your in your mind, one that could be mistaken for pure static—just absence of thought. No thoughts, all thoughts, you can’t even care about.

“Of course I missed my favourite girl,” he offers, a lopsided smirk forming on his handsome features, “Sit,” he instructs, so gently you wonder if you’ve imagined it—a very direct order (and you know he doesn’t like to be disobeyed), yet delivered in the softest manner.

The bruises on the right of your ribcage sting as you stare back at him, unmoving. Bucky never repeats himself, and he doesn’t now, seeming to overlook your defiance (though really it’s shock) as he leans forward slightly and begins speaking to you.

“You’re a smart girl, I can tell from how you really tried to cover your traces when you left, huh? You’re a smart girl, so why would you do something so stupid?”

He stands, and you stumble back with a whimper at a harsh misstep on your injured foot.

“And now you’re out here all alone… you need someone to take care of you; look at you, honey,” he gestures to your foot, and if you could get your vocal chords to work, you would scream at him that he did this.

He stalks towards you, and where the sudden adrenaline comes from, you have no idea, but you dart for the front door. He’s on you in a second, slamming your head against the door and watching you slide down. He stands over you a foot on either side of your body and looks down on you, slightly amused.

He’s pure evil.

It occurs to you the front door is locked anyway, you’re caged under him in the narrow corridor, and so you try to crawl through his legs, but he turns and grabs you by your injured foot.

You shriek in pain and desperately try to claw forward, but he tugs you back and twists harshly so you have no choice but to turn over or risk him twisting your fucking foot off.

With more strength than you’ve ever mustered, you swing your left foot up and kick him hard in the crotch. He howls in pain as he drops your foot.

“You fucking bitch!”

You scramble to stand and dart for your bedroom, hoping to climb out the window. He limps after you, and you cry out as he grabs a fistful of hair and tugs you back. You manage to stumble into the bedroom. He grips the doorway and you slam the door after him, hearing a deafening crunch and a yell behind you. You push your back against the door, planting your feet firmly in the ground and trying with all your bodyweight to keep him out, but he easily blows it in, and you fall forward.

You start screaming at him and kicking, but he catches your legs, leaving you to only pathetically wiggle underneath him. He leans down and shouts, “Shut the fuck up!” bringing down a hand you feebly attempt to grasp to stop him, but he slaps you, “You’re a fucking cunt!”

You assume you’re crying, but you can’t feel anything on your cheeks but the sting of his hand.

He drops down to his knees and straddles you easily, despite your struggling against him. He punches you in the face, his rings leaving deep cuts against your cheek. Again, and again, and again, until his knuckles are bloody from the cuts he’s left. You attempt to cough but he brings a fist down and punches your throat. You can barely gasp before he grabs your neck and pulls you up close to his face.

His voice is dangerously low as he drawls, “You’re lucky I have the decency to fuck you on the bed.” He spits in your face and slams your head back down into the floor. He gets off you and, before you can even move, kicks you in the ribs; you can feel the bruises—the healing bruises, they were healing—bloom once again against your skin, against your bones. You roll over before he grabs your left arm, twisting harshly and pulling you across the small room.

You feel your shoulder pop out of place and scream louder than you ever have in your life, an intense white hot pain shooting across your shoulder as it’s dislocated. You can’t even beg him to stop through your sobs and unbearable pain, you can’t breathe, you want to throw up.

This time, you almost wish he does kill you. You wish for him to kill you.

He pulls you up onto the bed, your shoulder blade sliding further across your nerves and sparking pain as intense as the first few seconds all over again. He tosses his suit jacket to the side as you try to sit up. He presses down hard against your injured shoulder, and you choke on your own cry, suffocating more than screaming, at this point.

He punches up from your chin and your head lolls back, your teeth hitting each other harshly, before he uses the opportunity to grasp your throat with one hand, tearing your skirt off with the other.

It’s too painful to struggle other than weakly kicking your legs, which he effortlessly ignores, maybe he doesn’t even feel it.

Mind over matter, Mind over matter, Mind over matter—

You repeat to yourself when you hear him spit in his hand and softly groan as he runs his hand up and down his cock. You don’t even know when he unbuckled his belt.

You close your eyes and try to focus on your breathing; Mind over matter, mind over matter, mind over matt—

He head-buts your forehead, effectively pulling you out of your attempted mental respite. Bucky is scary; he looks down at you with wild eyes, and you hadn’t noticed blood dripping from his temple. You briefly wonder how much blood you’re covered in when he interrupts your thoughts; “Stay with me, bitch.”

“Please stop,” you finally find words rather than shrieks, your voice hoarse and words slurred, like you’ve never spoken before.

He just smiles—smiles—and then thrusts into you, stretching you open, not giving you any time to adjust to his massive length before pounding into you, beyond rough, beyond violent, he’s a fucking mad man, he’s feral. You attempt to grab onto his shoulders and pry him off but your own shoulder hinders you. You weakly punch at him with your right hand, but he doesn’t feel it, and at this point, you’re just exhausted. Throat hoarse, head aching, shoulder burning, foot in pain, and your ribs on fire.

He lets go of your throat and feels around on the bed for his jacket, pulling something out of the inner pockets.

Before you can even process it, he places his other hand over your mouth and presses something cold and metal to your knee. He fires the gun, the bullet flying from the front of your kneecap, shattering the cartilage, and resting in your flesh. He presses down harder on your mouth so your scream is completely guttural.

“Try leave me now,” he pants as she shoots out your other kneecap.

He presses the gun to the right side of your rib cage, digging into the bruises, “Next time you leave me will be in a fucking body bag.”

Ribs (II)

✪

#dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky x you #dark!bucky smut #dark!bucky barnes x you #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x y/n #dark!bucky x y/n #dark bucky x reader #dark bucky #dark bucky barnes x you #dark bucky x you #dark bucky smut

[lacedinweb22]

Seven Minutes in Heaven ♱☽🦇☾♱

Miguel O'Hara x reader ♱ (A Halloween special) Vampire Next Door (ch.7) prev part nsfw 18+

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

There’s a knock at your door. You fix your hair in the mirror then rush to leave.

There he is,

dressed up as a vampire.

He’s wearing a beautiful vintage, tailored suit. His waves are tamed back. He has a bit of fake blood dripping from his bottom lip to his jaw then down to his neck. He really committed to the part. 

You discussed costume ideas a few days before the party. You came up with the idea of dressing up as gothic style vampires; you’d been watching vampire romances all week, though you left that part out. Miguel was hesitant at first, said it would be too flashy, but after you showed him your pinterest board, and some whining and convincing, he agreed.

You’ve got the look down: a long, black vintage dress, fake blood around your lips, chin, and down your arms, jewelry adorning your collarbones, and fangs you’ve glued onto your canines.

Your dress hugs you in all the right places. Your bust is bursting, practically spilling out of the bodice. It accentuates your curves, tightly hugging your waist and hips. You look and you feel the best you’ve felt in a really long time.

Seeing Miguel like this, at your door, makes the butterflies in your stomach go wild. You never thought he’d see you like this, so grown up, blossomed, and beautiful. And you never thought you’d see him like this. 

Your eyes meet, then part, as they explore each other’s figures. He quickly looks back up, keeping a straight face, like he didn’t just gulp at the sight of your curves.

“This hot vamp look really suits you.”

“Hot?”

He furrows his brows and smiles, exposing his fangs, as he slides a hand over his waves.

“Wait, your fangs… I’m impressed.”

“A vampire needs a good pair of fangs. I’m not an idiot.” 

“I’m learning that…” you mutter looking him up and down.

****

Miguel introduces you to your floor neighbors, in a way that makes you feel like you're his. You look like you belong to each other, but you push those thoughts away. He was kind enough to welcome you and introduce you to his friends. You’re neighbors. Friendly neighbors. 

Your neighbors welcome you, you have multiple small-talk conversations, and most of them ask how you know Miguel. You both say you’re neighbors who’ve just met a few days ago. You’re both liars.

Alicia, the host of the party, calls him out for not attending more of their get-togethers, and he promises he’ll come out more often, as he turns to look at you. 

You all start the night off with one shot of tequila then disperse through her apartment. 

You and Alicia click, as Miguel stands by sipping at a mixed something, listening, and secretly laughing at your tangents. 

After a bit, you both end up alone at the kitchen counter. 

“I think I want to drink a lot tonight. I need it.”

He nods slowly, trying to read your face as he sips his drink. 

“If that’s what you want, okay. I’ll drink with you.” 

He pours you another shot. You cheers then both down it. You wince at the aftertaste, then look up at an unfazed Miguel. 

The music progressively gets louder as the apartment becomes more full. You move to the rhythm, barely dancing, not drunk enough to let him witness it. Miguel smiles, sipping at his drink, leaning against the counter. 

“You know what? You’re like four times my size. You’re going to need to drink four times what I drink to feel anything,” you slur, clinging onto his wrist for balance. 

“Mhmm, okay,” he chuckles, looking down at your hand on his wrist. You’re too tipsy to pull away. His warm skin feels too good, you feel glued to him. He smiles, pouring two more shots into a red cup. 

He drinks, lifting his chin up, his jawline advertised as he swallows the hard liquor. 

“It’s been thirty minutes. I want another.” You slide your shot glass to him.

He grabs the liter of strawberry soda on the counter and starts to pour it into a red cup.

“This should help with the taste.”

He adds a shot into the soda.

“So kind, such a gentleman,” you slur, taking the drink from his hand. 

“Truth or dare!” one of your neighbors yell. Everyone gathers, drunk and stumbling to sit on the floor and on the couch, forming a circle in the living room.

After half of the circle takes their turn, it’s your turn.

“Truth or dare,” Alicia asks you. 

“Dare.”

“I dare you to play seven minutes in heaven with Miguel,” she shrugs.

“Seven minutes– Is this fucking high school?” Miguel mutters rolling his eyes.

“Okay, Y/N, sorry. You’re going to have to take another shot.”

You’re fucked up. Another shot is going to destroy you. 

“Shut up, okay? Mierda. Come on, Y/N,” he mutters as he stands up. He reaches both hands down to you, then helps you up. You stumble, as he grabs your hand and leads you to the closet down the hallway.

You both enter the closet; Miguel leaves the door open a crack, allowing the purple light to illuminate the side of his face. The speakers begin to blast music again in the living room. It bleeds into the dark closet. 

You laugh at how drunk you are, and at the situation, then look up at Miguel. His concern is obvious, but it fades a bit when your eyes meet. 

“I was too sober to say it earlier, but you look… divine,” he confesses.

“Wow, that’s… you can’t do that to me. Not now,” you laugh, looking down, shaking your head. You avoid eye contact.

You’ve dreamt about moments like this since university. About being this close to him, about him saying romantic things like this, but you’re drunk, and you don’t believe him. 

“I mean it,” he adds, leaning down to catch your eyes. 

“You look really good too. So handsome,” you breathe out. You cover your eyes. That took a lot. 

“Yeah? You think I’m handsome?” he asks, drawing closer. 

He gently pulls your hands off of your face.

You look up at him.

His cheeks are pink, flushed from the alcohol, his hair is less tame than it was when you got here, and his crimson eyes are radiant, even in the dark.

“Miguel,” you exhale.

“Y/N,” he says, smoothly, deep, pretty on his tongue.

You grasp onto his suit jacket, pulling him into you. 

He strokes your cheek, then combs his fingers through your hair, pushing it out of your face. 

You stare into each other’s eyes, then his eyes wander down to your lips. 

You tilt your face up and he leans down.

You kiss. 

It’s heated, drunk, wet, and addictive.

It intensifies as he slowly presses you up against the wall, your lips still glued to each other. 

His lips detach, his kisses trailing down to your neck.

“Y/N,” he breathes against your skin. 

“I know you remember me,” he mutters into your neck.

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

“English 150A. I know you remember.”

“I didn’t realize you did.” 

“You’re hard to forget.”

You pull him back in for a kiss, shutting him up. It’s drunk and passionate. Your cheeks burn hot.

His fangs are razor-sharp; you’re too drunk to realize when they cause you pain.

You pull away, then reach your hand up to his lips.

“Can I?” 

He obeys, looking down at you with drowsy eyes. 

You stroke his fangs. They’re hyper realistic. If you applied a bit more pressure, they would puncture the tip of your finger. 

“Why are they so sharp? Mine aren’t that sharp. Where did you get them?”

“Doesn’t matter. They were expensive though,” he shrugs, allowing you to continue touching his lips with your thumb.

“Miguel, these could actually cut me.” 

You reach back to his fangs, before he gently pulls your hand away.

“Here, I’ll do it,” 

He grazes his own fingertip on his fang, drawing blood.

“Miguel, stop,” you squeal, yanking his hand away from his mouth. 

He laughs, showing you the blood. He’s too drunk to read the concern on your face and you’re too drunk to realize it’s not that serious.

“It’s like a paper cut, Y/N,” he reasons, sucking the blood off his finger. 

“You’re annoying. I’m not staying here and entertaining this.” You reach for the closet door. He grabs your wrist. You turn to look up at him. 

“Come on, Boots, I was just showing you,” 

“What? What did you just call me?”  

“Boots. You wore those red rain boots that week of the storm. I thought they were cute, and it just stuck with me,” he says, shrugging it off.

“You really do remember me. Okay, we’re doing this… wait, you’re a science boy, what were you doing TA-ing for an English course?” 

“Hm yeah, it was a favor for Professor Reyes,” 

“Favor for what?”

“I’m too drunk to talk about this right now,” he groans, throwing his head back.

“Okay,” you nod, leaning only your back against the wall.

He looks up at you, then slowly approaches you. 

“We still have like four minutes left,” you sigh.

“Four minutes. I can work with that,” he smirks, towering over you.

Then he’s kissing you, hands on your waist, holding you against his body. Again, he’s pressing you up against the wall. 

His leg is in between your legs, as you lean back. 

You squeeze his tricep, encouraging the pressure he’s applying all over you.

“You’re so warm, and god, you’re so beautiful,” he grumbles into your lips.

You feel it, something pressing into your thigh, against your dress. 

The butterflies in your stomach intensify. You feel hot all over. You’re drunk and you want him and he’s right here and he wants you too.

“I want you,” you moan into his mouth. 

“Yeah?” he whispers, trailing his lips down to your neck, sucking gently. 

“Harder,” you encourage, enjoying yourself a little too much. 

You comb your fingers through his hair, gripping tightly.

He squeezes your thigh, holding you tight against his leg. 

He sucks harder; you feel his fangs brush against your skin.

You moan, pulling his hips into yours. He grips your waist tighter. If you weren’t wearing this dress, his fingerprints would be bruised into you. He hangs his head on your shoulder, quietly moaning into your skin, before bruising you again.

He restrains himself. 

“Now bite me,” 

He pulls his face from your neck.

“Y/N,” he says, head tilted, face drowsy, hair tousled. 

“It’s gonna hurt,” he shakes his head, his eyes glued to your lips.

You pull him down for a kiss. 

The music stops. 

“Seven minutes up!” they yell, clapping. 

You pull away from each other. You try to catch your breath.

You fix your hair, bring it forward to cover your neck, wipe around your lips, and look up at Miguel, who’s brushing his hair back and straightening out his suit. 

You walk out of the closet and join the circle once again. 

“How were the seven minutes? How was the sex?” they tease.

“We just talked,” you slur, shrugging, suppressing your smile.

“Miguel?” they press on.

“We just talked. You heard her,” he defends, eyebrows furrowed at their doubt.

They move on to their next victim. 

You turn to each other. Your eyes meet then break. 

The night goes on. 

⋆♱✮☽🎃☾✮♰⋆

Happy Halloween 🧛🏼‍♀️

-G ⋆୨୧˚

ch.8 here

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel atsv #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel ohara x y/n #atsv miguel #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x you #spiderman2099 #atsv x reader #spiderman x reader #vampire next door

[doobea]

BORN TO MAKE HISTORY ─ RIN ITOSHI

synopsis: After his brother takes a nasty fall and calls out before the new season starts, Rin has to step up as your new figure skating partner.

✰ ✰ ✰જ⁀➴ PLAYLIST. | MASTERLIST

contents: an ice skating au fic (very much yuri on ice inspired), fem!reader, ice skating terms and irl figures thrown around, inaccurate depictions of figure skating, sfw, rin being awkward, sae is a decent brother in here, characters are in their early-mid 20s, talks about ISU grand prix, mentions of mental health (depression, anxiety, burn out, imposter syndrome), heavy narration, rin centric word count: 5.1K a/n: life has been super busy and hectic recently :( kisses to @popponn for beta reading my works as always <3 im forever grateful for you :) more notes towards the end of the fic <3

PREV. RINK | NEXT RINK

“What should we wear?” You’re pacing across the living room, hand tucked under your chin and brows furrowed. 

Sae’s leaning to the side on the couch, trying to get a decent view of yesterday’s playback practice run on the rink every time you cross his line of vision. Rin’s also trying to pay attention to the jumps and step sequences too but, whenever his parts are about to come up, you seem to pause in front of the TV.

“I dunno, ask Rin,” Sae shrugs and turns up the volume, hoping that you would catch the hint. 

It doesn’t matter though, because you’re shuffling in place and now your attention is honed on your phone, scrolling rapidly through what Rin can only assume are images of various costume designs. He’s seen a few of your professional photos from the previous years during his recent down time, a lot of the designs highlighted your feminine side with bright colors and pastels. It suits you, no surprise there, considering your outgoing personality. Rin, on the other hand, likes to keep it moody and, as his fans would like to call it, “Dark Paradise” core — whatever that means.

Well, it wouldn’t really matter if you did happen to ask for his opinion because, recently, Rin didn’t give two shits about what he wears. If anyone were to peek into his closet, which they would definitely need to fight through him first, they would discover an array of all different shades of black and blue in their deepest forms. Oh, and all he owns is athleisure attire, too. Rin doesn’t bother with all things fancy and tailored ever since going on break, though he has a creeping feeling that he might have to go back to it soon.

“As long as it’s not flashy, I’m fine with whatever.” Rin answers finally, and closes his eyes as he says it, realizing that he’ll either look incredibly out of place with whatever costume idea you’ll have in mind. He can’t quite place why he feels so stressed about it. 

“Whatever?” You chirp back with a slight tilt. Rin can almost see the gears turning desperately in your head as your foot taps away in deep thought. “Have we even decided on a theme yet?”

“Considering we literally just started practicing? No.” Rin huffs out. He tips his head, letting his cheek settle comfortably against his palm. 

Safe to say, his thighs and feet hurt like hell, laced with heavy exhaustion from yesterday’s session. He probably needs more sleep in more but, with both you and Sae knocking on his bedroom door this morning, he firmly decided in his mind to sneak away after today’s practice to catch up on some hours.

“Your jumps are sloppy,” Sae points out casually. 

Rin rolls his eyes. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Anytime,” his brother shoots back before replaying the same damn sequence where Rin nearly loses his footing. The video is now playing in slow motion and zoomed in, painfully reminding Rin that he needs to upgrade his skincare routine. Somehow, he’s glad that you’re still covering half of the TV screen, unaware of the near wipe out scene from behind. 

A few seconds later and Sae speaks again. “You look stiff here, bend your knees and loosen your arms.” 

Rin sighs. “ ‘Kay…” 

“We’re still going for ‘love’, right? Or are we not doing that?” Your arms are crossed, fingers drumming away, still deep in thought and tuned out from their own conversation. “What songs do you wanna skate to?” 

Before Rin could even provide a half-assed answer to that, Sae interrupts his thoughts with, “Please try and at least look like you’re having fun.”

“…noted,” Rin decides with a sigh. “I’m going back to bed when this is over.” Screw napping after practice, he barely got a full eight hours last night and being berated so bright and early in the morning killed any sort of energy he had prior.

“Nope,” Sae pauses halfway through the video, turning to face him with a stern look. “You’re not going back to bed, because then you won’t wake up in time for practice. Sleeping in will only ruin your current sleep schedule, too.”

Rin wants to retort that he’s not a fucking child anymore, that he doesn’t need Sae to be looking after him. However, there’s the fact that his brother is sorta his manager now and in charge of quite literally everything of Rin's career. Also, it’s kinda hard to come up with a solid comeback when they’re reviewing his rusty movements, lackluster jumps, and every thirty seconds he’s taking a small break to catch his damn breath. 

You eventually plop down in the middle of the couch, between both brothers, when you realize that your question isn’t going to be answered simply. After Sae finally gets the chance to thoroughly watch a good chunk of yesterday’s practice sequence, you switch topics. “Just so you know, Rin, have you seen your comment section lately?”

Sae shuffles in his seat and suddenly Rin feels the air in the room thickening. Rin fiddles with his phone in hand, knowing full well that he did post a ‘comeback’ announcement only to then quickly turn his app notifications off, because… of his feelings of self cautiousness? Would that be the right term he’s looking for?

“What did he do?” Sae’s asking you because he knows damn well Rin wouldn’t give him the full details and you’re just so damn open about everything so Rin can’t possibly hide from this one.

But, instead of answering Sae, you cough, loud and awkward, before shooting Rin an apologetic look. “Um, nothing…?”

Alright, well Rin takes it that you’re a god awful liar. 

Sae’s now staring directly in Rin’s direction and he’s trying so hard to avoid eye contact right now by pretending that their family portrait wall is the most interesting thing in the room. Of course, that doesn’t work because he can hear Sae tapping away freely on his phone and—

“Did you fucking block me on Instagram?”

Okay, yeah, Rin totally forgot about that, too. To be fair, when someone is going through a depressive episode for over a year, the last thing anyone would want to see on their feed is the success of their older sibling.  

“No?”

And, turns out, he’s also an awful liar. 

Sae is not happy. He is very, very unhappy. 

He’s not usually the emotionally expressive type to most people, so that usually leaves Rin the luxury of experiencing the back end when his brother does decide to let his walls down. And, well, in the past, when he did get pissed off, Sae would normally vent about his coaches and stalkerish fans with a bit of sass to it, but today? 

He’s currently grumbling and groaning and Rin’s pretty sure his shirt is on backwards, and bless your soul, but also fuck you, for dragging him into this mess. 

After a very short Google Search of what Rin has done, followed by an equally as short lecture on how to be professional on the internet, Rin is grimley reminded by the large number of likes and retweets on Twitter that his announcement might’ve not been the best thing he’s ever posted. He really can’t understand why though, because Rin was deadset sure he was going to lose his career nearly three years ago when he got into a fight with another skater, so why is he getting canceled for announcing something… tamed? Well, he also hasn’t exactly opened his social media apps since then. A strange gnawing feeling comes up whenever he fights off the urge to check.

“You should’ve held off or at least came to me before posting something like this.”

It’s a miracle that there’s nobody else but you three at the local rink right now. It’s been nearly an hour since arrival and Rin has gotten nothing but an earful from Sae. If any family were to walk in, they’d probably immediately walk out by the sheer amount of heavy tension steaming off on the ice. 

You’re stuck in your own little corner doing all sorts of warm up jumps and stretching, glancing over every now and then at Rin as your way of saying ‘sorry’ and ‘are you doing, okay’. To which, Rin would glance back with a very stiff shrug. 

“What difference would it make?” Rin’s cheeks are a little flushed and there’s a slight hitch to his breath, he had just completed a couple of routine jumps Sae instructed him to do.

“Plenty,” then Sae flashes Rin a quick glimpse of his phone screen. 

An array of outrageous news articles and forums come through, many of them pointing out the strange timing and the internal turmoil of sibling rivalry. There’s a couple of them mentioning drugs, two threads from some third-party news site throwing your name to the mud, and then a short Buzzfeed article listing a slideshow of other skaters congratulating Rin for rejoining the sport again. 

“People are speculating that you’re only stepping in because I’m down for this season. If you would’ve just waited until everything was put together then everything would’ve been different.” 

Rin blinks a little, surprised by the flush coloring his brother's cheeks that’s most certainly not from the cold rink. 

Although, in a way it did make sense. If there’s one thing that famous athletes do know about the media is the fact that news outlets love fabricating drama out of nothing. Sae’s a well known gold medalist, no matter what division that medal came from, so his name came out of people’s mouth as frequently as compared to Yuzuru Hanyu or even Yuuri Katsuki, whenever figure skating was mentioned. It made sense for others to grow suspicious when Rin randomly posted that he’s coming off of hiatus without further explanation. Sae most likely hasn’t told anyone that he’s being subbed in.

Rin hesitantly nods, his snarky response dies in his throat and he feels like he’s swallowing needles when faced with the awkward reality. He’s now reluctant to speak, unsure if anything he’d say would make a difference — for better or worse. Knowing himself, probably the latter. 

After a few seconds of silence, followed by a few jumps performed by you in the background, Sae runs a hand through his hair, in what Rin believes is a rare nervous gesture, looking away briefly. 

“Revival,” his brother finally blurts out. “That’s the theme. You guys fine with that?” Sae’s asking, but there’s a finality to his tone. Rin and you will have to be fine with it. The season starts in a few months, soon Sae would need to prepare choreography for two programs, consult a designer for custom fittings, and take over all things that a coach and manager would do. Somehow, despite being out for this year, Rin thinks Sae might have the hardest job here.

“No objections here.”

Two months and many hours of exhausting training later, you and Rin are standing in the locker room for the first competition as an official pair. It’s the first day of the Japan Figure Skating Championships and, somehow, you look more put together than he is.

“Think this looks good?” You do a 360 spin in front of the wall mirror in your short program outfit. It’s a simple short black, gray dress with mesh sleeves and small rhinestones running down the middle. According to the designer, it’s supposed to represent the night sky. 

Rin stands behind you and adjusts his black vest. Gold and white thread accents throughout his patterned shirt compared with plain black trousers. He’s supposed to adjust his cuffs, but his fingers keep fumbling with the last button because his eyes are awkwardly getting lost in your outfit. Luckily, you’re too focused on yourself to take notice.

You eventually lean closer, repeating the question when he takes too long to answer, and he feels your breath against his shoulder. “Everything alright? Are you nervous for today?” Your voice is a little hesitant, full of concern that makes Rin’s stomach slightly jump to his throat. 

“Everything’s fine,” Rin sighs as he manages to shove the last button through. It’s not like he’s going to lose this competition, he might be somewhat rusty but he didn’t qualify for the Grand Prix Final just based on his name alone. “It’s just… a little bit weird that we’re the oldest ones here,” he confesses. 

“You’re still hung up about that?”

It’s stupid and maybe a bit irrational, he knows that much.

You’ve also already tried to convince Rin otherwise multiple times today, but he couldn’t shake off the humiliating feeling of entering a competition where your competitors are almost half your age. Okay, maybe Rin’s being dramatic, but at least five years younger. From what he can recall, it was usually the other way around whenever he competed in men’s singles tournaments. Having to see and now experience that is something he never really mentally prepared himself for.

From the moment he stepped into the locker room, Rin was basically towering over the rest of the athletes. It’s fine, kinda, all he really needs to focus on right now is landing all of his jumps and catching you. Sae’s a strict teacher, but he doesn’t force weird techniques on others if he knows they can’t handle it. 

“Isn’t he, like, totally washed up right now?”

“Shh, don’t say it so loud, Makoto! He’s right there.”

“Oh, shit, let’s go before he…” Rin didn’t get a chance to hear the rest of the sentence, not with you scooting right beside him on the bench and shoving your right ear bud into his ear. 

He’s learned quickly from the following days that you are not the playlist type of person like most people. Unlike normal and sane folks, you have all of your liked songs in one playlist and you like spending your time shuffling away through the vast hundreds of genres and artists until finding the right one. In your own words, if you were to make a playlist then it would easily be over a few dozen — why do that when all of your favorite songs are in one spot? 

That being said, you’re currently blasting a Frank Ocean song before shifting through a couple more songs with the intent of finding both the short program and free skate song. Oh, and for some reason you don’t use the search function at all through your liked playlist. Apparently, it “ruins” the fun. 

“This would’ve been a nice song to skate to,” the tune switches to something more upbeat and indie, Rin recognizes the band to be Florence and the Machine from the vocals alone. “Sae complained about the song being too long and I called him a lazy loser shortly after.” You say with a smile but Rin’s eyes drift down only to see your leg bobbing up and down rapidly.

Rin tries to pay no mind as he continues to put on his skates. “A six minute long performance would be too much,” he agrees with Sae’s previous answer.

“Hey, tickets to these sorts of things are expensive nowadays with scalpers everywhere!” You try to reason. “If someone’s spending two hundred dollars on a seat then they can sit through a six minute long skating sequence.”

Rin rolls his eyes as he fiddles with a tangled lace. “I didn’t mean the people in the audience, I meant the skaters.”

“Well, maybe we should learn a thing or two from people who do Disney on Ice?”

“I do not want that to be my fall back career, thank you.” A shiver creeps down his spine at the thought of being forced to skate while wearing a Mickey Mouse costume of all things. Seriously, do people clean those suits?

“Hey, are you…” both of your ears perk at the sound from behind. Rin turns around first, he’s immediately greeted by one of the younger male competitors. The boy looks like he’s still growing into his body, probably not any older than seventeen.

“Yeah, I am,” Rin finishes the obvious question. Maybe the kid’s a fan by how bright his face lights up soon after. “Is there something you need?” Sae’s been drilling him to be a little bit more receptive to fellow competitors and fans alike, in order to fix some of his reputation. 

“I’ve been looking at your past performances, lately,” the kid starts with a smile. “Last year, during the Grand Prix Final, you did good!”

“Thanks—”

“Your theme was the same as the previous years, but I guess that’s just something you’re comfortable with, right? The falls that you took, it was because your balance was off. You need to work better on finding your center during jumps if you seriously plan on competing in the senior division again.”

Rin only notices the pain digging in his fists when you reach over, palm encasing over his closed ones. You don’t bother looking his way, but you do say something to the kid. It sounds muffled though, or maybe Rin’s somehow zoning out? He’s not sure. 

The loss from the Grand Prix is apparently still at the forefront of his mind, no matter how much he tells himself otherwise. People love to pick out that particular part in his performance, acting as if they could pull it off any better. And, for a brief moment, all his past of anger and frustration at the sport suddenly comes rushing back at an overwhelming rate. Rin’s wondering who else wants to criticize him when they meet him again. 

“Don’t they teach kids manners these days?” You try to shoot a glare back but, from Rin’s perspective, it just looks like you’re mildly constipated. 

It kinda ends up working, because the kid backs off, scurrying away and off to his manager for last minute pep talk. Sae’s currently running late as usual, but it’s not like you two would need any words of encouragement. Rin’s competitive nerves have fizzled out by this point, at least for this event, but he’s now seething with discomfort. He’s certainly positive that you’re feeling the same way. 

“I take it back, some of these kids need to be humbled and maybe even bullied.”

Okay, while Rin would agree, he feels like he has to somewhat step up in Sae’s place to make sure you don’t accidentally get kicked out of this competition for sucker punching a kid.

“It’s fine, don’t get too worked up over it. I more or less expected comments like that.”

Rin never expected anything to come easy. Climbing for his spot again in the competitive world can be absolutely ruthless and meeting skaters who are arrogant, condescending, and taunting are just part of the reality. He suspects that everyone else sees him as a washed up skater, never as a real competitor, or a real challenger for the gold medal.  

“Still,” you pout, unsatisfied by his logical response, but drop the conversation as Rin tightens his laces. Then, you finally manage to find the song for the short program section after the relentless shuffling.

“It’s fine,” he reassures, and really, it’s kinda-sorta fine. It’s something that he’ll eventually get used to, even if he’s well aware of the heinous rumors floating around. Everything will die down after a week or two since most people can barely hold their attention span nowadays. 

“If you’re positive,” you go back to your phone, but not before poking Rin’s sides and redirecting his attention towards the TV screen in the locker room. “Hey, the first pair is competing.”

Pair skating is a lot different from competing in singles. Aside from the obvious involvement of another party, there are more requirements in the short and free skate performances. In the Adult Singles programs, the skater focuses more on their jumps, having a higher emphasis on how many quads they can shove in — or at least that’s how Rin used to work. Quads granted him the majority of the points, it’s something that he can take some pride in compared to his other juniors and seniors. 

For pairs, instead of focusing on jumps in the sequences, it’s lifts. There’s two types of lifts, overhead and twists, both are required in the programs. In general, overhead lifts rely on the movement of the person in the air, the control and execution of their rotations around the person carrying them. For twists, the most “exciting” part of the performance by judges’ words, requires an insane amount of coordination and strength since Rin has to propel you into the air by the waist.

Sae had the lovely idea to throw in three overhead lifts, just because he thinks Rin can handle it. Those evening practices at the rink, followed by early morning lifting sessions absolutely killed him, both physically and spiritually. Though, safe to say that he’s just about near his physical peak last year from all the training. 

You and Rin both waited patiently in the locker rooms for the first three pair performances, only leaving and heading by the outer rink when you guys queued next. Sae leans against the railing, the brace on his foot now gone and, instead of chunky sneakers, he’s opted back to his expensive loafers. Maybe that’s why he ran late, just in case paparazzi took snapshots of his entire outfit. Go figure.

“I think you guys will have no issue securing gold.” Sae’s voice comes through the haze of Rin’s thoughts, sounding distinctly unimpressed by the current line up. “Even if you guys fumble your lifts, I think the amount of it will carry enough points.”

Erupted cheers soon fill the air and all eyes turn to the rink as the pair’s performance ends. You soon recognize one of the skaters being the teenager from earlier and throw Rin a look. 

“We’re going to make sure that he doesn’t get a chance at winning until next year.” You announce, tone casual but eyes flickering something darker than what Rin’s used to.

Sae scoffs and leans against the railing, holding Rin’s Winnie the Pooh tissue box in his arms. “I’m assuming the locker room talk wasn’t all too friendly?”

“Maybe not your usual idea of friendly,” and Rin surges forward, taking your hands into his, when the pair in question struts by and casts both of you a nasty glare. Your grip around his bicep tightens and, while he didn’t care too much about beating a bunch of lukewarm competitors earlier, Rin’s fully certain that he wants nothing more than that gold medal and to clear both of your names from accusations right now. 

Piano sounds ring throughout the arena from the speakers, starting with a single word that you’ve both heard countless times during practice. The soft piano notes quickly turn into a somber melody, growing louder with every passing second. The music is beautiful. Haunting, even. Capturing the audience in a trance while Rin prepares you for your first lift.

It’s strange, he thinks. While he’s gotten used to handling you, this is different from every other time. During practices, you’re always carefree and cheerful but, out here, surrounded by cameras and opinions of others that don’t weigh a thing, you’re focused and extremely precise in your form. 

Rin thought he knew your routine. Clearly, he’s mistaken. 

You skate with conviction, confidence, and accuracy. He can understand why you were originally Sae’s skating partner. 

Once you’ve landed back on the ice, keeping up with Rin’s speed, the two of you follow the song’s beat with a smooth series of spins and jumps, each one rotating faster and faster until it feels like the mere audience is just a blurry backdrop in the foreground. 

The final lift jump transitions easily into a simple step sequence before finally ending in a death spiral. Rin has a firm grip on your hand as you begin flattening your body low enough, face barely grazing the ice below, as he pivots you around in lull circles. 

Judging from the sounds from the audience, Rin didn’t need to stay around to know the results of the performance. The roars, chants, and the standing ovation from them is enough to make out the outcome but, for your sake, he’ll stick it through.

You both glide through the last few seconds of the short program, focusing on nothing but the music and remaining movements. Finally, the music notes fade out and the two of you come to a rest in the middle of the rink, the final position has Rin tipping your body backwards with your arms wrapped loosely around his neck, as if you both were reaching for something just out of your grasp. 

Thunderous roars ring in his flushed ears and you’re shooting him a look, eyes glassy and lips parting, possibly saying some sort of praise, but Rin can’t seem to focus. He’s too lost in thought, too distracted by the tenderness of the performance, the flashing lights, the way your chest is heaving in rapid waves, and didn’t realize he had been holding in his breath until you pulled him into a tight embrace.

Everything is just about perfect. Every jump, lift, and spin. He can already imagine the gold medal around his neck, and the thought of winning gold at the Grand Prix only makes the rest of his blood course through his veins faster.

Being a professional athlete again is… exhausting. 

Rin spends the following day in back to back conferences and being introduced to people. Most of them end up being unremarkable and forgettable. A couple of them are rude and eccentric, with one guy in particular honing down Rin in a corner and bombarding him with questions both surrounding his performance last year and his personal life. You and Sae had to step in to diffuse the situation before Rin blew a hole in his career again. 

By the end of the night, Rin debates whether he should switch careers because this shit is absolutely not for him. It’s no surprise to anyone that Rin hates being around people and this night he’s probably escaped to the restroom maybe about five times to catch a breather. And, while Rin is not the type to exactly care about his image, he absolutely does a full body inspection in the full body mirror every time before he steps back out. Each time he revisits a new wrinkle line forms.

And his brother hasn’t told him when it’ll be over.

Rin’s hands twitch after another self-proclaimed journalist finishes up a half-ass interview about his latest goals for this year. He pulls out his phone when they suggest giving out their contact information and Rin just zones out, tapping away gibberish in his notes app and nodding until they finally went away. 

He feels like he’s going to vomit and pass out if this goes on any longer.

“You look like you’re about to freak out,” and of course, you have the decency to point that out as he’s made the fruit salad section his little hideaway spot. Turns out people really dislike any sort of fruit dishes at these fancy events. 

“I’m not,” Rin muffles back, mouth stuffed with various chunks of honeydew and grapes. Even if it is true, he’ll never admit it, but it also does suck that he's stupidly easy to read. “The food just sucks here, that’s all.” The fruit isn’t that bad. Maybe just the strawberries. 

“Whatever you say, partner,” you roll your eyes playfully, almost giggling at the nickname before taking a sip from the glass of champagne in your hands. “If you want, we can sneak out of here and explore the city.” It’s a suggestion but, from the way you’re smiling, Rin picks up that he can’t wiggle his way out of it. 

But he tries anyway.

“Do you even know your way around?” He sounds vaguely concerned. 

Sure, it’s been approximately two months since you’ve crashed and turned his life a complete 180, but you’re still new to the area and very much new to the country. Rin’s heard you picked up basic phrases from his brother to get around but it’s still nearly not enough to go and explore, especially late at night. And, rightfully so, he doesn’t plan on babysitting while you waltz around half tipsy off your mind after winning first place.

You fake a wound over your chest and gasp, hiccuping soon after. “I have maps on my phone! I already pinned and favorited a bunch of cute stores we can check out.”

Rin doesn’t know why you even bother throwing him into the equation considering it’ll clearly be stores you’ll like. 

“And where exactly do you think you’re going?” Sae’s sauntering over, a half empty glass of wine in hand, and his movement is a little sluggish, but he’s probably the only few sobered up person in the room aside from Rin. 

“Out,” you reply with a casual shrug, as if Sae’s supposed to be satisfied with the answer. 

“Out...” Sae echos before flickering his sudden sharp gaze over to Rin. He feels himself straightening up before he realizes. “You guys still have to make your statements to the press, you know that, right?”

“Can’t we do it after we get back?” You quickly dismiss Sae’s annoyed scrunch with a quick waft of a hand. 

Rin really doesn’t want to stand in front of a bunch of drunken and overly zealous journalists right now if he doesn’t have to. The idea of visiting a few late night street vendors might just be his highlight for today. 

“Hey,” Sae’s agitated voice snaps him out of his daze. “Are you seriously going out?” 

Instead of providing his brother a proper answer, Rin takes a hold of your hands and throws his jacket over your bare shoulders. You were complaining earlier about losing yours, and the last thing he wants is a drunk and cold skating partner in the middle of the streets of Nagano.

2024 — NAGANO: JAPAN FIGURE SKATING CHAMPIONSHIPS

Posted 16 hours ago 278,293 views

Comments 543

[niCOnii] - 10 hours ago All these rin haters from earlier can eat my socks because i knew he would comeback!!! his partner ain’t half bad either tbh View 30 replies [klnen2003] - 9 hours ago GO TO THE VIDEO AT 4:45 and see how Rin looks at Y/N!!! There’s definitely something there, right??? View 12 replies [YOICHISAGI OFFICIAL] - 9 hours ago Can’t wait to see Rin Itoshi and Y/N L/N compete at the Grand Prix this year!! Let’s catch up sometime! View 154 replies [jiroMark8734] - 8 hours ago I dunno… isn’t it weird how they swept everyone else tho? Can’t tell me that they’re both not taking anything lmao [my_skates_my_life] - 7 hours ago Congrats to everyone for winning!! And thank you so much for posting this. LOVE FROM ARGENTINA!! [merhaba234] - 7 hours ago Rin’s always doing the same level type program both in technique and artistic. It’s refreshing to see something new!

TAGLIST - OPEN

@anurst @blissblossom @genneii @wooasecret @chaosinanutshell @kaiserkisser @rroxii @takotakigum @jaynawayna @peachesncats @sseishiross @izumi-astra-123 @sereniteav @pokkomi

a/n: im crawling on the ground,,, if anyone knows me: i love making rin suffer but please know its in a loving way. is his brother hotter? yeah. but does his brother have a sad backstory? yeah probably. either way, i love working w men with sibling complexes and his whole design basically oozes with melodrama. rin!!! you are gonna be in it for a surprise next chapter!! also apologies for the late update everyone hehe i dont have a set schedule for everything ;-; and my mind runs either at 500 miles an hour or 0 miles. as of late, life has gotten in the way of things and maybe i do need to stick with some sort of plan to make myself ... less stressed when creating content :> anyways, i love you guys!!

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock imagines #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x female reader #cw: depression #cw: mental health

[spinster-sisters]

Reality p.sh

Pt3 of Expectations

pt.1 pt.2 (these are 6k and 8k wc respectively but you very much need to read them to get what’s going on here, sorry)

TW: All the usual mafia au warnings apply here (descriptions of guns violence and torture), afab reader, oral (fem receiving), piv, unprotected sex, breeding as a kink with repercussions, the miscommunication in this deserves its own warning

WC: 23k

-

“You want me to do what?” Seonghwa asks, looking up from his papers in disbelief.

You stood leaning against his mahogany desk, hand on his shoulder running your finger across his tailored suit jacket. You had been preparing for this request from first thing this morning. You had wrapped your arms around his waist when he sat up from bed and pulled him back into your embrace, in a sweet, tiered voice you asked him to stay in bed with you. He chuckled and shook his head, rolling his shoulders to rid the sleep from his body before breaking your grasp gently, laying your arms back down with a smile before standing from the bed.

When he was getting into his car you stood by the driver's side door, taking special care to wish him a good day at work with a sweet smile, you had felt a bit silly doing it considering what his work was, but you still meant it. He had reciprocated your smile with a knowing look.

He slid into the driver's seat of his sleek black car. Although it was nothing flashy, you knew just the bulletproof glass on the car was expensive, not to mention every other modification that had been made to suit your lifestyle. Your arm hung over the door as you leaned down to kiss his cheek, you had let the deep v in your sweater do its work and of course, you noticed his eyes glance down and then away, trying to mask a smirk.

And now, as you stood pressed against his side in nothing but a silk robe with his initials sewn into the lapel, stroking your fingers down his chest. And he had the audacity to look unimpressed.

“I want you to teach me how to shoot.” You repeated, crossing your arms in front of your chest, unhappy with his reaction. Your eyes flick to the silver gun on the far edge of his desk.

Seonghwa’s head fell into his hand as he rubbed his brow bone.

“Where oh where did you get the idea that you need to know how to shoot a gun.” he asked in exasperation. You huffed, lifting yourself to sit on the edge of his desk, the cold wood pressing into your skin.

“Do I need to spell it out for you?” You shot back, crossing your legs with a flare. Seonghwa leaned back into his chair and peered at you.

“Clearly.” He replied incredulously, lifting his arms inches into the air before dropping them back onto the armrest. You huff in disbelief, giving him an equally stern look and sitting up straight.

“In case you forgot, I am married to a mob underboss. The fact I can’t shoot a gun is a liability,” But as you spoke you noticed you we’re losing Seonghwa’s attention.

He couldn’t help it, his eyes dragged up the exposed flesh of your thigh, noticing for the first time that you were practically naked in front of him. That had been the intention, but he certainly chose his moment poorly.

You rolled your eyes at him and snapped your fingers in front of his face. His eyes shot up to meet yours with a wolfish smirk.

Seonghwa reached out and ran a hand up your leg practically to your core. Your thighs clench instinctively as heat shot between your legs; his hand was momentarily trapped between your thighs before you swatted it away.

“What? You come in here practically on display and expect me not to touch?” He grins. You frown at him.

“Not when my husband should be listening to what his wife is trying to tell him.” You humph at him.

“I was listening, and my answer hasn’t changed. You don’t need to know; they will never get close enough for you to need it.” He says definitively, taking hold of the ankle crossed over the other and lifting back across. You can feel yourself getting turned on, it’s inevitable with a man who looks like him, dark and handsome and a silver tongue, you were destined to lose this battle. His hands have already been all over your skin and it is having its desired effect. But you are determined to hear a yes before you submit.

“Oh, come on, pretty please?” You ask with a playful pout, playing into dynamic hoping to pull the right thread that will loosen his will. Leaning back with your hands on the wood behind you as the silk robe slips ever so slightly, keeping you covered but only just.  His eyes are trained on your soft skin, you can practically see the desire burning in his eyes as his mind examines every inch of your flushed body, almost as if committing it the moment to memory. Even more so when you arch your back ever so slightly, pushing out your chest.

His hands takes hold of your knees, he looks up at you with a challenging smirk as he begins to spread your legs. He’s looking into your eyes, and he pushes them further apart you feel your breath catch in your throat, if he were to look down now there is no doubt he would see wetness pooling between your thighs at his firm grip. You’re almost completely exposed when he replies.

“I believe I have already told you no.” He says, slicing the tension in the air.

He doesn’t have the chance to gloat. You scoff at him, snapping your knees shut and crossing your arms. It took all your resolve not to give in to him, but you had a plan to stick to.

“Then you don’t get to touch.” You shoot back, already sliding off his desk. Seonghwa sits genuinely stunned for several seconds before shooting up after you. Your hand is on the doorknob when he catches you. He reaches out as you are opening it and slams the door closed again.

Coming up behind you he wraps his free arm around our middle before pushing you against the door from behind. You gasp, feeling him pressed into your back and his length pushing into the flesh of your ass.

“Where do you think you’re going darling,” he murmurs into the shell of your ear. The resurgence of an old nickname is enough to have your insides fluttering. His hand from the door lands comfortably on your waist.

“Away from you, if you can’t be reasonable, too bad.” You shrug and tsk at him but stay put in his arms, it’s not like you have much room for movement anyway. You can hear the cogs turning in his head, but you can feel his erection pressing hard into your body. You wonder which one he will listen to.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” He suddenly gets very serious, and you know he wants a serious answer. You take a deep breath, as you inhale you feel your body possibly even further into the sturdiness of his own.

“Yes, I want to learn.” You reply resolutely. Seonghwa takes a deep breath, leaning into your nape, kissing it gingerly, before stroking a hand down your spine. If you hadn't been hanging on to his every word you would have missed it.

"Fine," he grumbled, speaking directly into your skin.

“You’re all mine now, darling.” He growls and you feel it rumbling in his chest against your back. Your breath hitches. A moment later his hand grasping the swell of your butt, squeezing the flesh, you let out a squeal only for his hand to come down hard in a slap against your ass. The whine you let out is something pitiful, your core is alight again the pain had only served to fuel the aching in your cunt.

“Seonghwa-“you plead in a high tone, he lets out another running rumbling grunt. His right-hand slides from your waist slowly to the opening of your robe. His touch feels like fire as it travels across your body till he unties the ribbon. As the thin fabric falls open, Seonghwa’s left-hand pushes you to bend forward against the door before moving around to grope at your chest. Your breathing comes in hics. Seemingly at every second Seonghwa discovers a new way of toying with your body, setting it alight.

His hand travels down, between your legs, before strong fingers are cupping your heat. You gasp, as he holds your cunt in his hand, sliding his slim fingers through your folds. Wet noises can be heard even to you.

“Your so wet, look at you acting all big and tough, when you can’t even handle my touch without your cunt getting all drenched.” Seonghwa’s voice ripples through you, every word making you clench just as much as his fingers playing with you. You can’t help but blindly agree, nodding your head in ascent.

“I shouldn’t even be touching you with how demanding your being.” He chides into your ear, his fingers momentarily stopping their assault.

Your head whips around.

“No, no, no!” You beg, your hips bucking into his unmoving palm. Seonghwa grins devilishly down at you.

“What are those words you used earlier? I liked the way they sounded coming from your lips.” He gloated.

“Pretty please?” You pleaded, giving him big wide eyes over your shoulder.

Satisfaction filled his features. Seonghwa pulled you from the door by the waist. Turning you around and pushing you the way back to his desk. Sitting back in his chair he maneuvered you onto your previous spot again, only this time he took hold of your waist and pulled you forward till you practically fell off the edge. He leaned back in his chair and admired your debauched state.

Your robe fell open from your shoulders, your breath was heavily with anticipation, and as he pried your knees open again your glistening pussy was all on display for him.

He groaned at the sight.

You whined again.

“Seonghwa! I said please! Won’t you touch me?” You begged. He stuck you with a hard gaze.

“When did you get so spoiled.” As he spoke, he stood, pushing his chair back and standing between your spread legs. His hand on your knee once again slid down your leg but instead of touching where you oh so desperately wanted him he used it to spread your legs even further and hold them there.

“I suppose that’s my own fault. I took a sweet girl and spoiled her rotten.” He tutted at you, using his free hand to take hold of your chin keeping your eyes on his face as your head so desperately tried to look away in embarrassment.

“How could I not, when you’re so pretty.” He sighed. As though giving into his own musings Seonghwa’s hand slid back down to run against your cunt. The reaction was immediate. Your head has it not been for the steady grip on your jaw would have flung back in ecstasy. As though to make up for lost time one finger found your clit and began rubbing tight little circles into the bundle of nerves. If felt remarkably unfair how quickly he had unraveled you, with so little actual touch.

Seonghwa focused all his attention on your face, keeping your head in place to watch every expression and noise in detail with a satisfied grin. Your clit had grown swollen quickly and every round made your leg twitch against his side.  You were already feeling yourself getting extremely hot, like he had lit a fire inside you with your own nerves as kindling.

Seonghwa got to enjoy the sight of you twitching and panting, a bead of sweat forming on your chest.

Seonghwa groaned again. His hand falls away from your core, bringing your simultaneous relief and torture at the lack of touch. His hands fell to cage you down against the desk as he leaned in close. His lips crashed onto yours in an incredibly messy kiss, groaning with every swipe of his tongue past your lips only for it to fall just as suddenly. He stared into your face with what can only be described as reverence.

“I can’t be mean to you even if I want to. Not when your so darling,” He almost sighs the words at you, giving you whiplash from the harshness you saw only moments ago. As the sentence concluded Seonghwa drops to his knees, looking up at you like a starved man. Your legs are still spread wide and that is all the invitation he needs before diving into your cunt.

You don’t even have time to properly moan before your breath is stolen entirely. Seonghwa is lapping at your whole cunt like he hasn’t eaten in days. His long tongue worked it’s way across every inch of slick. Several full stripes across the entirety before spreading your folds and working his way to your still leaking slit.

Your clit, still swollen and sensitive is sending shock after shock up your body every time he brushes against it. Seonghwa claps the bud between his lips and sucks at it with delicious pressure that makes you squeal and reach for his dark hair. Yanking at the roots as he releases the nub with a wet pop.

Allowing himself a moment to breathe he looks up at you. You yourself are completely ruined. Your voice has been lost save for the occasional squeak or whine and it is all you can do to stay sitting up after that.

Seonghwa grins at you “You taste so delicious, darling” he practically giggles at you. You think for a moment you can catch your breath, but Seonghwa doesn’t allow you the relief.

In an instant, his mouth is back on your cunt. With his tongue now prodding your entrance, dipping into it in search of more slick. His tongue is darting in and out sliding quickly inside only for more arousal to fall into his lips. Your hips can’t help but buck in time with his actions.

“Seonghwa,” you whine. He only groans in response. The vibrations travel up inside you, sending you over the edge in ecstasy. Heat pools in your core and travels like waves through your limbs. Your mouth is hung open in an “o” as you helplessly twitch against his still moving mouth.

Seonghwa loved to please, but sometimes he enjoyed it a bit too much. The pleasure pulsing in your core had suddenly turned to burning pain with every brush of his lips.

“Seonghwa! Wait-“you gasped, pulling at his hair. He did not pull away. Speaking his next words directly into your core.

“Just a little more, you’ll love it. Just give me a little more.”

Your body thrashed against his hold; every shot of pain layered with burning pleasure enough to make you whimper.

“Please, please!” Your voice was little more than a gasp, but he heard your over the sopping noises coming from your pussy.

“Almost there darling, you can give me another.” He groans into you.

His mouth is moving much lighter against you than before, yet the sensations are just as hard to deal with, somehow you feel heat building and building even quicker than before. You’re tugging helplessly against your husband’s hair, but when he returns to suck on your clit your orgasm washes over you like a wave. Your arms holding yourself up fail and you let yourself fall back against the cold wooden desk as your body rides along with explosive pleasure.

When you come back to your senses Seonghwa is leaning against your thigh with a satisfied grin. As you slowly pick yourself up you watch as he leans in to press a gentle kiss against your core before pulling away. His face is glistening with your arousal and his hair is in disarray after your grip, but he has never looked so pleased.

Seonghwa grins, his eyes glaze over slightly, his eyes are dark yet glassy as they trail over your messy state, but the goofy grin stays. He leans down to kiss the corner of your lips. You can only give him a questioning look, still panting from your high.

“I know I just put you through quite a bit. But I think after all that I deserve to fuck you as well.” He continues, kissing gently against the other side of your lips. Your eyes are tiered, but you can’t deny, the thought of him filling you up is already enough to have your insides stirring again.

“Will you promise to be gentle with me? Im a bit-” you start, gripping the collar of his shirt.

“Sensitive?" he cuts in, his voice teasing. "Of Course,” He promises, but his grin is starting to look less goofy and more wolfish.

You nod your head in ascent. Seonghwa takes your body and helps you turn around, bending you over the edge of the desk. From this angle you can’t see him, but you can hear the distinct sounds of him undoing his belt.

You feel him smooth a hand down your back like he is petting a cat, calming your tense body. When you feel him prod at your entrance you can’t help but wince, but as he slowly pushes all the way inside you, you can feel your body tingle in excitement at how deep he fills you up.

Your body is practically humming as you arch your back, signaling him to give you a deep thrust. Your body flusters around him as he pushes in and out and you moan each time he fills you up again. Seonghwa finds the perfect pace, he’s fucking you deep, but he’s going at such a speed and is holding your body so tenderly around your waist the pain of overstimulation is nothing but an afterthought.

Each push of his hips pushes you further up on the desk and each time Seonghwa pulls your body back down to meet them. Shooting pleasure runs through you every time he rubs against your walls.

“See? Don’t you see how well you’re doing darling? You’re taking me so well.” Seonghwa coos at you. You murmur ascents, too focused on the way he stretches you out, feeling him pulsing inside you. You’re growing louder with every moan or whimper. You can’t help it, not when he lifts your hips ever so slightly allowing him a better angle to push against your most sensitive spots and thrust even deeper.

“You know if I cum in you this deep I’ll probably get you pregnant.” He groans. These words shock you, but it is nothing compared to how they make you clench around him. Seonghwa lets out his own moan at that.

“Oh? You like that? You like the idea of getting knocked up?” Seonghwa laughs through his panting.

“Yes- “you all but whimper, letting him maneuver your hips exactly how he wants. After this discovery every thrust is delivered with greater force, knocking the wind from you, and shooting more pleasure into your core.

“I think you would look pretty like that-" he starts but his eyes screw shut and he lets out a rumbling groan as his hip meets your's. His hand and gripping your hips so tight, using them as leverage to get just that little bit deeper.

You couldn’t tell who was more affected by his words as you both fell apart at them. Just before you lost yourself to your third orgasm you felt Seonghwa spill his cum inside you only adding to your feeling of fullness. At that, your brain stopped working.

It was the most intense orgasm you could remember, your brain all but mush as your body rode and rode out the waves of white hot pleasure. If your eyes were open, they were not seeing. If your mouth was open, it was making noises too obscene to be remembered.

But when it came to an end you felt your doting husband tying the robe around you again and gently lifting you off the desk. Your arms absently latched around his neck, and he chuckled at your attempt.

As you ascended the stairs and entered your bedroom you whined desperately when he walked straight past your bed.

“Darling, I love you so much, but I will not let you into my fresh sheets this sticky.”

You swatted his chest but to no avail, the dreaded bath before bed. You had not the faintest hope of staying awake.

-

The next morning you woke up far later than usual. Guessing by the way the sunlight was streaming in through the window, it was probably already around or after noon.

With a groan, you pulled the covers off yourself to get some breakfast. As soon as your feet are planted on the floor and tried to pull yourself to your feet you realize you have an issue.

You are incredibly sore. Seonghwa was already away at work, the trek down the stairs and to the kitchen would be a painful one, as you could feel the slight ache in your muscles restricting you. As you observe yourself in the mirror you see faint shapes of Seonghwa’s palms across your hips. You had half a mind to think ‘Gentle my ass’ but then again last night really had gotten a bit, intense?

Oh. That. You flushed at the thought of the words that had brought you to pieces the previous night. You had never even thought to discuss that before. Did Seonghwa actually want kids? Was that his weird way of telling you? Did you even want kids?

The distinct noise of something in coming from downstairs broke you from this derailed train of thought. And it made your blood run cold. The door to the landing was cracked just enough that you could slip through. You looked around for your phone to call for help only to remember with another pang of terror that you had left it in the kitchen the previous night before visiting your hubsand's office.

With no other choice than to descend the stairs on your wobbly legs, you did so, holding your breath, trying not to make a sound. The trek down was gut wrenching, but nothing like the last corner to the kitchen. As you braced yourself for all kinds of horror you turned into the room only to see! Seonghwa?

“Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me!” You called to him, where he sat peacefully eating. You startled him enough to make him drop his fork but he could not stop himself from chuckling at you.

“What are you even doing here?” You asked, exasperated, and leaning against the archway. Seonghwa looked, his eyes wide and slightly confused as though it were obvious as though it were obvious.

“Eating?”

“No, I mean why are you still at the house" you question. Still reeling from sudden fear to sudden relief. You could still feel your heart in your ribcage pounding away.

“Oh, I have decided to take the day off.” He replies, turning back to his food, his usually sicked back hair falling in his eyes as. You raise a brow at him.

“Taking a day off?” You ask, crossing your arms starting to grow in disbelief. Seonghwa nods, taking another bite.

“In the 2 years we have been married you have never once taken a day off.” You reply.

“First time for everything,” he shoots back cheerfully, finishing the last of his food.

“Do you always wake up this late?” He asks while clearing his plate, giving you a once over. Then a look of realization and a smirk, noticing the way you are leaning heavily against the archway as well as the visible marks on your hips. The tank top was doing little to cover them.

“Or only when I fuck you too good.” He asks, crossing the room, standing at your feet, with that grin resurfacing from last night. You shush him, swatting his chest so slightly that your hand just lands on his shoulder instead, feeling the material of his sweater. He's dressed casual today.

“You are too satisfied with yourself,” you shoot back, smoothing the wrinkles in his rarely-seen sweater. Unlike your husband, you have no real reason to put on clothes every day, so his comment wasn't entirely false. You could sleep till what ever hour you liked most days.

In the earlier days of your marriage, before the dissent from your men began a few months back, you used to fill your days as best you could. Having your husband opened doors and there wasn't anything the city had to offer you could not occupy yourself with, and you'd even made friends with some of the neighbors. But since the dissent, you've been under 'house arrest.' You remember how it drove you mad being cooped up here with no information, like the world's most expensive padded prison.

With the promise from Seonghwa that as soon as the threat was neutralized he would let you roam during his busy days and nights, but until then he would keep you safe and secure in his house, protected by his men, all the time. You wondered at the amount of Ateez's resources going into keeping you safe. You couldn't rationalize it all being worth it.

“Are you going to need me to carry you to the car?” He asks with a grin, leaning down to meet your eye level, breaking you from your thoughts with his dark eyes and barely arched eyebrow.

“Why am I going to the car?”

“I’m teaching you to shoot today.” He states as though this were obvious, straightening back up to his full height.

“Oh wait, so you’re ok with that?” You asked incredulously.

“We made a deal, didn’t we?” He asks with a tilt of the head. You simply stare at him and after a moment you blink.

“Well, I mean, I just thought since you were so against it you were just gonna- “you trailed off. Seonghwa chuckled again.

“You mean I could have bent you over my desk without agreeing to teach you shoot?” he asks in mock surprise, his eyes widening comically and his eyebrow shooting up, for a finishing touch he places his hand cupping his his cheek and lets his mouth hang open in surprise. You only stare in bewilderment and you can help but laugh.

“Go get dressed, I’m not doing this anywhere where you can shoot something I own.”

-

“Seonghwa are you sure she’s never shot a gun?” Yeosang questions from his place sitting on the hood of his car. His mild voice carried in the empty shipyard you find yourself in.

Another shot rings out and another metal can topples to the ground with a crash. The force of the shot pushes you backward into your husband's chest. Despite his steady grip on you you still stumble forcefully backwards. Seonghwa stabilizes you, then sighs.

“Being a good shot doesn’t matter if you can’t shoot without falling on your ass,” Seonghwa grumbles.

Despite his tone, you are more than pleased with your performance so far. You weren’t a perfect marksman, not by a long shot, but you managed to knock one of the empty cans from the roof of the abandoned cars yards away on only your third attempt. Yeosang had let out a long whistle, but Seonghwa still seemed dispirited.

“I think I’m doing a good job,” you mumble in return, lowering the weapon to point it at the ground. Despite having never shot a gun before today, your father had taught you proper gun safety ever since you were a child. Every person in your life always had one on them even back then, it was better to be safe than sorry.

“If it’s just a problem with the kickback, then the more she uses it the more she will get used to it.” Yeosang reasons. You turn your head to face Seonghwa, his features are set in a frown. When he meets your gaze, his free hand shoots up and takes your jaw to turn your head back down the abandoned ally Seonghwa brought you too.

“Yeosang I would prefer if she didn’t have the chance to get used to it,” Seonghwa sighed in exasperation before leaning into your ear “Go on, take another shot. Try to keep your feet planted.” He instructs quietly in your ear, his breath tickling your ear. You sigh, lifting the firearm. You take a deep breath, trying to root your feet in the ground. You line up the shot and,

Bang. Your arm is flung back and your shoulder pops painfully. You groan, clutching your damaged shoulder with your free hand and lower the weapon. You can practically feel Seonghwa tsking at you.

“At least she did fall over that time.” Yeosang interjects. Seonghwa scoffs at his companion. Taking the handgun from your grip and sliding it into his holster.

“Yeah, instead she let her shoulder take the full force of the shot, that’s not any better.” Seonghwa shoots back. You’re too busy groaning over your arm to bother with their bickering, instead you wander over to the hood and sit next to Yeosang with a huff. Seonghwa watches on as you cradle your shoulder with a sour look on his face.

“How did you get him to agree to this in the first place?” Yeosang mumbles into your ear. You turn your head and watch as Seonghwa moves down the alley to collect the cans, bottles, and other target practices junk. You didn’t often divulge details of your relationship to the other members of Ateez and you couldn’t imagine Seonghwa talking about you to them. You smirked knowingly but said nothing as you watched your husband’s back.

“Did it have something to do with how you’re walking funny.”

Your head whipped to the man at your side. Once again, the members of Ateez were not necessarily privy to all the details of your relationship and honestly, they never had spent enough time around you to be close to you, so Yeosangs comment took you by surprise.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, feigning casualty. Yeosang, only peered at you looking down at you with a raised brow. He didn’t speak but you felt his disbelief in his stare. The man rolled his eyes, turning his head to watch Seonghwa as he began sauntering back in your direction, target practice in hand. Yeosang was silent for another moment before speaking quietly,

“Seonghwa’s not happy about this, not just teaching you to shoot he hates all of it. He hates the whole damn thing. Marrying you wasn't supposed to cause this many problems." The man's tone was unexpectedly cruel, the final words came out with so much heat it almost came across as antagonized. Like they had personally offended him. You couldn't help but take offense, as they were necessarily directed at you, you weren't the one leading the dissenting group, but you still felt responsible for obvious reasons. Before you had the chance to react to the words just shot in your direction Seonghwa approached, gun holstered, he tossed the cans and bottles into a rusted silver garbage can that lay forgotten on the pier.

Seonghwa stayed lost in thought, staring at the silver can for another moment before turning on his heel to face you both. His face was a mask of nothing, no emotion clouded his features. But you could tell it was a mask just by observing him. The tense roll of his shoulders and soft sigh as he walked up to the car would have been imperceptible to most, all but you. His eyes met the floor as he walked, scanning the ground without really looking, deep in thought. It's so obvious now that you’re looking for it, the weariness in his eyes when he looks up at you with a smile. You wonder how long it’s been there without your notice.

"Are we all done here?"

-

Silence had always been normal in your home, a peaceful kind of quiet. That night the silence wasn't peaceful; it was heavy and overbearing. When you both made it inside Seonghwa had practically waved you away, like he was dismissing one of his soldiers as he stalked into his study in the deepest corner of the house. You didn't follow him; you were too busy staring at his back as he walked down the hall. The wood floor creaked but from the way his shoulders slumped it could have been his joints. Your mind trailed back to the previous night, where you had crept into his study with him without a care. You scanned the memory, analyzing him for a hint, anything to suggest what specifically is troubling him, but the memory was foggy, your mind had been occupied with your own scheme for the evening.

Seonghwa had long since disappeared from your view, leaving you puzzling in the entry, staring after your husband. You had to pull yourself from your stupor. Shaking off the horrible foreboding feeling you huff and pull your coat from your shoulders. Hanging the coat in the hall closet you make your way to the kitchen. The sun hangs low on the horizon, pleasantly illuminating your kitchen in golden light, but your stomach squirmed. You initially pulled yourself to the kitchen to find something to eat but you found your appetite suddenly gone. Uneasy.

You shiver, the little hairs on the back of your neck standing up. You whip around, half expecting someone to be sitting at the table behind you, but you find nothing. Well not nothing, there's a letter on the table, was that there this morning? You can remember. Your hand is halfway to the envelope before you realize it has no stamp, and no address as well. It doesn't matter, Seonghwa probably just left it on the table this morning. Still, you pick up the envelope, flipping it over you see that it is not sealed, it looks like it never was.

Seonghwa told you that you weren't cautious enough, he reminded you of this fact regularly. You thought that you were plenty cautious, in fact, you had spent the better part of the last few months in a state of paranoia. Normally you would accept Seonghwa's concerns as just care and love, but with his current attitude you can't help but wonder if looking after you is the stressor to your husband you've been looking for, and if he is nearing his wit's end. A dreadful mix of guilt but also anger brews in your stomach. Your old mantra returns like an old friend "I didn't ask for this." You had accepted that, you really had. But you felt both sorry for and angry at Seonghwa for being burdened by you. He didn't have to marry you, he could have not, let you die instead.

It is that thought that drives you to action, you open the envelope the rest of the way, pulling the folded letter from inside. It takes you a moment, but suddenly you're looking at your name. It's printed in large, neat handwriting, beckoning you to read.

With a shiver, you consider the very real possibility that someone broke into your home and placed this on the table for you to find. Even as you think it’s hard to believe, this house is a fortress, the best security systems money can buy are only one of the things protecting it, not to mention constant surveillance and patrols keeping an eye on the whole neighborhood. The neighbors don't know, but they probably live on the safest block in the city.

Still, your fingers tremble as they unfold the paper, carefully opening it to read.

The page is blank, except for a single like on text written in the same large immaculate handwriting.

"Father's Headstone, 5pm, tomorrow"

You almost drop the paper. Someone had broken in, now you know for certain. You moved to alert your husband, but you halted. To tell Seonghwa the house had been broken into would require telling how you knew, but this letter wasn't addressed to him it was addressed to you.

Your brain was scolding you. Asking yourself how stupid you could be, someone had been in your home without Seonghwas knowledge, they could do it again, and next time they could wait till you were home alone and kill you. But once again something stopped you from moving to sound the alarm, hovering in the middle of the kitchen there was a still quiet voice in your head, whispering, working its way into your mind.

'They could have killed you already.'

This simple fact is the only thing keeping you from screaming bloody murder. If they could break in, they'd been watching the house, they knew you'd been away when they broke in, and they likely knew you were alone in the house for most days. If this intruder wanted, you dead you would be.

You wish you didn't know where your doubt in Seonghwa was coming from, but Yeosangs's words had changed you. You had never thought Seonghwa would get tired of protecting you, he had promised you he wouldn't, that conversation on your wedding night. But 'marrying you wasn't supposed to cause this many problems', the sentence made your head spin with its possible implications, especially from Yeosang. He was a man of few words, but when he spoke it was often critically honest, he had also always seemed to be the most level-headed aside from Hongjong and Seonghwa. You had always suspected that's why your husband often chose his company over the others. But he had seemed frustrated when he spoke, it seemed that the burden of keeping you alive was starting to wear on the other inner circle members of Ateez.

Seonghwa spent many hours with the inner circle, and for the first time, you realize Yeosang likely has a much better what's going on in your husband's mind than yours. And even if Seonghwa is kind, and attentive this marriage started as business and the goodness of Seonghwa's heart, but if this marriage is bad for business, then you wonder if Seonghwa will do what is best for Ateez or you.

With resolve you turn, on unsteady feet you make for the living room, with its roaring fire in the fireplace. You storm towards the mantle and throw the letter into the heart of the fire. You watch enraptured as the words on the paper start to burn. You want to watch them fade from existence. But before you have the chance to watch the paper disappear completely you hear a knock on wood.

Your head snaps around, Seonghwa stands in the archway, hand leaning on the column, watching you with his hawk eyes. You try incredibly hard not to look guilty. The heat from the fire dried your eyes when you blink, they water. Your hand comes up to quickly wipe the tears.

You see his eyes dip to the fire, and your eyes snap to where the last corner of the letter is turning to ash. By the time you've returned your eyes to his, Seonghwa is already returning your gaze. Did he see the letter? No, he couldn't have, it was basically ash. Even if he saw it there's no way he could have seen what it said that you knew for sure. But still, you don't think you're imagining his eyes narrow even just a fraction.

"Is everything okay, sweetheart?" Seonghwa asks, but you can tell he's puzzling you out.

You nod your head, feigning a smile, "Of course," Your voice breaks ever so slightly on the last syllable, but you cover it with a small cough.

He looks unconvinced, his plump lips formed into a thin line. The only light in the room is the fire; it cast a shadow on his already angular face making him look almost like a phantom in the low light. But soon he steps fully into the light, and back to normal, all shreds of suspicion are gone from his face. You breathe a small sigh of relief.

"I will be returning to work tomorrow, you call for one of the captains if you need anything," He says the words to you like you don't already know. You school your expression, trying to make yourself look calm.

"I would like to go to the cemetery tomorrow," you say, this time your voice is unnervingly steady. You decided damn all the caution and fear, they could have killed you and didn't, especially when so many in your life would without a second thought. You needed to know who was behind it. When you refocus on Seonghwa, his eyes are startlingly soft, it reminds you of the look he gave you when you first met, the look for a kicked puppy.

You realize he thinks your mourning your family, your lost brother, and your father. It hurts to know that even now when you suspect your presence in his house has become nothing but a problem for him, he is still trying to be attentive, but unfortunately, he came to the wrong conclusion. But on the bright side, you suspect that because of the sensitive topic, he won't ask any more questions, his curiosity is satiated.

"I'll have Wooyoung take you," he replied quietly, as if not to startle you. You want to argue, and find an excuse to go alone, but it would only reignite his suspicion, and he would never allow it anyway. You give him a small smile, playing up the sadness in your eyes.

"I'd like that,"

-

Wooyoung was less of a problem than you expected. You had spent all day brimming with anxiety, a sick nausea sitting in your stomach, as you waited for the man's arrival. Wooyoung was the loudest of the inner circle of Ateez, at least in your experience, which admittedly is not much. So when the sound of a supped-up engine came screaming down your street and parked on the street in front of your lounge window you could guess who the vehicle belonged to.

Wooyoung could also have a bad attitude from what you could see. You never saw much of him but one of the few times you had seen him, he had jumped to attention at a joke Mingi had made in poor taste, he got as close as possible to the tall man's face, pulling him down the rest of the way by his collar and tore into him, you had never heard such casual use of such vulgar language especially at that volume.

You didn't much feel like accidentally getting into a screaming match with the man. But luckily for you, your worry had been misplaced. Wooyoung had barely said a word to you on the drive, but you saw him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, Seonghwa had probably instructed him to keep an eye on you. But you had been so busy fretting over how you were going to slip away from the man that when Wooyoung killed the ignition in the parking lot of the cemetery and instructed you to come back to the car when you were done, you hadn't even had the time to be anxious over who it was you were supposed to be meeting.

You pushed open the car door without a glance back at the man in the driver’s seat. He stayed put, apparently unwilling or unable to be around someone who will most definitely cry over a dead loved one. You quietly thanked your lucky stars as you pushed open the gate and entered the cemetery. You imagine every entrance and exit of the cemetery is being watched right now, and you hope whoever you’re meeting knows that too.

It was too late to start worrying now over who would be there to meet you. You kept reminding yourself 'If they wanted me dead, I would be' and surprisingly, the thought comforts you. A sentiment only the daughter of a mob boss could feel and understand so intimately. Whoever it is your meeting does not wish for your death, at least not right now.

It is too late to dwell on that last thought. You pause at the foot of a small hill in the cemetery, at the top of it you would find your father's and brothers' graves underneath a shady tree. At the top of the hill, there is a man, you already know this is who you're here to see, staring down at the graves with their hands in their pockets.

You begin to climb the hill. You expect the man to turn to you as you climb as there's no way he missed the sounds of your approach. But the man stays put, looking down at the matching tombstones still shiny and new after only 2 years. As you pace up the grass, the details of the figure become more apparent, and your stomach sinks as you feel you recognize more and more of the man, but from where you cannot place. It isn't until you level out at the top of the hill does it hit you. It shocks you so much you almost fall to the ground, but your brain and body are too unresponsive to fall. It can't be, no, but he's dead.

Clearly not.

He turns his eyes, the same color as yours, bore into you. Your brother stands before you, alive.

"Kai?" His name sounds foreign on your lips, you don't have a reason to say it very often anymore.

"Don't cry, Sunshine," His voice breaks the silence. You hadn't noticed the tears streaming down your face, how could you when your brother has returned to you from death. All you can do is stare and take him all in. As handsome as you remember, though a bit older now. He was a few years your senior, so his age was starting to show a bit in the lines around his eyes. But still, your brother the same, in flesh and blood. Your heart swells at the old nickname from your youth, enough to spur your body into action without input from your brain. You crash forward into your brother's waiting arms and you feel so happy it hurts. You bury your face into his chest and your senses are filled with the familiar sensations, the smell, and the feel of your brother, hugging you just as close.

Your brain had stopped accepting new information for a few moments, just content with the feeling of peace you had not felt in many years. Your brother is here, under your fingers, not just a memory in your mind. You realize he is speaking quietly to you softly whispering the same thing over and over again. "I'm sorry."

You pull away confused, looking up at him with joy and bewilderment.

"What are you apologizing for?" you ask incredulously.

"For doing this to you," You think you understand. He means this world, this life that wasn't supposed to be yours, this burden you were never supposed to bear. You shake your head no, flicking droplets of tears from your eyes.

"It's ok, I've done alright for myself," You reply, though that statement may be up for debate, shooing away his worries. You can't help but marvel that he is standing before you.

"You were dead." You say it, looking up at him in amazement, obviously able to see before you that is not the case, but you were at a loss for words, and you needed answers.

"No, it only looked like I was dead. Dad was found with another dead body in the room with him, the face was unrecognizable in the face," Kai pauses to grimace, "But I guess he looked enough like me from the neck down. I think he was one of the people sent to kill him, but Dad took him down too. The right hand identified the body as me before they ever found me." As he speaks, he trails off, realizing he led you to a question he didn't want to answer.

"Where were you?" You pried, you didn't know if you wanted to know the answer or not honestly, but more than just your own conscious relied on his answer.

"Our father and I got into a fight that night,"

As he spoke, your heart broke for him, because you needed no more explanation. Your dad loved him, but you knew they never quite saw eye to eye, like any other father and son they had disagreements over things, to what extent you did not know. That usually resulted in Kai leaving the house in a huff to kick rocks and blow off steam. From what you saw these fights were not serious, they woke up the next day and would share a pot of coffee at the breakfast table like it was nothing. You can see it in your mind's eye, if they had fought before your father died your brother would no doubt have been implicated, and his habit of disappearing into the night would only make him look more guilty. Most crimes like this would mean nothing in your world, but to kill the boss as a member of the syndicate would be treated like treason.

You both stand in the uncomfortable silence for a few moments. There is one thing in all of this that you cannot find an explanation for. Your gaze lands on your dad's tombstone, subconsciously looking to him for answers.

"Why did you come back now?" You ask, not looking up.

At that Kai gave a long sigh, he knew this topic would rear its head.

"Seonghwa is up to something."

Your head snaps to your brother. Your heart roars to defend your husband from him. And so, you do, glaring at him like when you were kids and fix him with a stern look.

"You don't know him, he’s always up to something.”

Kai returns the gaze in kind, crossing his arms over his chest and adopting the even sterner tone of an older sibling.

"I know his rap sheet and so yes I know him" You see red, huffing and puffing you take a firm step forward to get up to his face.

"So what? You've done just as much Kai, don't pretend you're a saint now." You are uncharacteristically angry. Kai was next in line to lead your organization he had a reputation all his own, and as possibly your husband's only line of defense against your brother you stood your ground. Kai shakes his head,

"This isn't about me; our people have rules and lines we don't cross. Since he married my baby sister, I've been keeping an eye on him and he's been dealing with some very bad business lately, getting involved with the worst kind of people, the kind that doesn't play by our rules, they think their above them."

You shiver almost wanting to cover your ears. Seonghwa never told you too much about work, and most of the time you didn't want to know. What Kai is describing is not the kind you wanted to hear.

"Seonghwa doesn't keep me up to date on business," you say trying to causally hide the shake in your voice. At that Kai scoffs,

"Oh, I'll bet he doesn't," Resentment drips from his voice and it surprises you. Resentment is such a strong emotion, and surprising to see your usually chipper brother dripping with it.

"I've seen it, I've seen what he can be like. I know what he does, that doesn't change anything! It doesn't matter when you-" He cuts you off,

"What when you love someone? You can’t possibly be that naive." His tone is harsh, harsher than you expected. You almost flinch away. Your brother sees your confusion and distaste and schools himself, looking to the floor and taking a deep breath. When he looks up he is kind again.

"Park Seonghwa has seen and done things more barbaric than you can even imagine. Our father sheltered you more than you know." You are once again taken with the desire to defend your husband, tell your brother you know his heart and that is the truest part of him, but his words make you feel small. You knew that your dad had protected you, but you never would have called yourself naive. Unfortunately, you know you cannot deny your brother's claims, the more you thought the wider, vaster, and scarier the world seemed. You can’t even shoot a gun properly yet, Seonghwa doesn't even need a gun to take a life.

"I never trusted him as far as I could throw him" Your brother speaks into the silence.

At that, your eyes snap to him. You had never thought about the fact that Seonghwa and your brother knew each other. You assumed they didn't know each other well, Seonghwa had never mentioned Kai. But your brother's words made it sound otherwise. You had never felt a reason to be truly, awfully, angry with your husband before, but this felt close. Seonghwa is the only person you allow to see you grieve. To think he was withholding moments of your brother's life you'd never known. You imagine them sitting together in a smokey lounge, sipping bourbon and making small talk and thinly veiled threats amongst other young mobsters. You wonder what they spoke about, or even for how long they have known each other. All things Seonghwa had never shared with you.

Remembering the mobsters brought to mind your current predicament. Hunted by your father's lost right-hand Joongki, who is vying to take control. Questions swarm your mind like alarm bells, what did this mean for Kai? Is he in danger? Where is he staying? Is it safe? You take hold of his arms shaking him slightly with your intensity.

"Kai, you have to come with me. I can't explain it all right now, but as soon as people find out you're alive Joongki is going to come after you," you speak quicker than intended. It's Kai's turn to shake his head.

"You don't have to explain anything, I already know." He replies with a smile, "Remember who you're talking to," he says proudly, crossing his arms and pushing out his chest in a silly show, but it still rings true. You can't help but be softened by your brother's attitude, despite the work he did, he himself had always been a mood lifter, nothing could dampen his spirit. But the question still remains,

"How do you know? Most people don't even know he's alive?" as soon as I ask it I realize the irony, Kai notes it too with a head nod and a knowing smirk before continuing,

"I kind of used my presumed death to take a page out of your book sis," He explains with a shy smile, "I called up the police department, Of course, they wanted to arrest me right away for any one of the numerous crimes I've committed."

As he speaks, he leans in slightly as if letting and you two can't help but chuckle at the thought, "But since I had been already pronounced dead, I offered them a unique opportunity." He explains waging a finger at you, "I work with them as an undercover, to bring down other gangs. Nobody too close to home obviously, nowhere they'd recognize me. Nobody knows organized crime quite like a crime lord, and they needed the help." As he concludes he offers a small bow, as if he just performed a monologue or a memorized speech. You can't help but slowly applaud him while shaking your head at his theatrics.

You take the time to piece together the information he's given you and try to work it into your understanding. It makes sense that the cops would know Jiyong was back in town, there were enough officers on mobsters' payrolls to keep them somewhat well informed. Hell, Hongjoong might have told the police himself. And you suppose you could see how your brother's knowledge and skillset might set him up wonderfully for a life dismantling the one he grew up in. You look up at him and try not to cry for joy, because you could not have wished for a better future for your brother, even if he's meddling where he's not wanted. Since that day two years ago it had only been Seonghwa, you feel happiness proportional to the doubling of the size of your family.

In the distance, you heard the sound of a supped-up engine revving to life. You suppose that's Wooyoung subtly trying to encourage you to wrap it up. You check your watch, 6:15. You look around yourself, the sun is nearly setting, it's nearing fall for the sun to set so early. The air chill sets in carried by a breeze, which shakes the leaves. So, 3 years. You've nearly made it to your 3-year wedding anniversary.

"I need to go now Kai, Seonghwa will be expecting me home soon." You speak. Kai scowls, you can tell he doesn't like that idea, but you don't care. You're not just going to walk away from Seonghwa. You could never. You hug your brother for as long as time allows, instructing him to wait in the cemetery until the Ateez men leave.

You hurry back to the car, rubbing your eyes to make it look like you are crying. Despite this, you could not stop the smile from creeping onto your lips. In the car, Wooyoung still glances in your direction every so often, but you can see an extra layer of curiosity in his glances. He expected you to be inconsolable, instead, you are practically grinning ear to ear.

-

You tread softly on the hardwood in your hallway. Once again the big townhome is empty except for you, a condition you've grown used to. The moment you push open the white double doors to the master bedroom you shed your coat to the floor and exhale in comfort. You kick off your shoes, feeling the plush carpet beneath your feet as you pad to the connected master bathroom. As you walk your strip articles of clothing, eager to get into a warm bath as quickly as possible. You've made a mess on the floor that Seonghwa won't appreciate, but at the moment you don't care.

It could be hours before he gets home, even days if the situation calls for it. You knew better than to ask for more of his time, if you wanted to reap the benefits of being a gangster's wife like expensive soaks and bath bombs you had to be ok with the time away. It was the same with your father. Of course, when your father died you weren’t thinking about the pretty dresses he bought you, you were thinking about the little time you had with him.

With that sour thought, you climbed into the bath, letting the hot water and steam ease your body into relaxation. You were happy now, with no room for anxious thoughts. Your brother is back and alive, what more could you hope for? You should be elated and nothing else. You close your eyes and try to force calm into your thoughts. But you can't, you’re still upset with Seonghwa, but the thought of him dead makes your skin crawl. Your body reacts more physically to the thought than you anticipated, and shivers go down your spine.

Whatever Kai's issue with Seonghwa is needs to be resolved soon if he's going to return to your life, and you want him too badly. Most people never get the chance to see their dead loved ones again, and you will do anything in your power to keep him this time. But you can't tell Seonghwa, that much is obvious. You're already burdening him; you can't overfill his plate.

You sink lower into the bath, submerging yourself in the water trying to drown out the overbearing thoughts. You stay there, lying flat on your back under the bubbles for as long as your lungs let you your eyes are screwed shut to avoid any soap getting into your eyes. you breach the surface when you run out of air, pushing your soaked hair back and rubbing your eyes. When you open them Seonghwa stands at the foot of the porcelain tub, looking down at you in his crisp unbuttoned navy suit jacket and pressed trousers. His hands are shoved into the pockets of the slacks, his face a marble statue of unreadable stone.

'Wooyoung brought you to the cemetery today." It doesn't sound like a question, so you don't answer it like one. You know what the pause means, he is thinking over his words, choosing the best to fit his purpose. You search his eyes trying to find what it is he's seeing in you, but you can't, he really is carved from stone.

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

His choice of words absolutely throws you. You have to catch your mouth from dropping open like a fish. For a second you think he knows, there's no way he chose those words accidentally. But it is that same though that wrangles your reaction and your racing heart before either can reveal you. Seonghwa is practiced at getting people to reveal more than they intend to. You know how effective an open-ended question can be, so many people talk themselves into traps. You are his wife, he can read you but you can also read him, you are on an equal footing in this.

"Yes, I think I did," you say the words with an earnest smile, knowing that the words are true. You did now know what you were looking for when you walked in but you are glad you were brave enough to look.

If Seonghwa did not expect such an honest reaction from you he did not show it.

"I'm glad to hear it," He replies, matching the sincerity in your tone. Yours was fake, it’s possible his is as well.

You watch carefully as he walks around the side of the tub, his expensive leather shoes clacking on the marble floors. From near the cupboard, he pulls a small stepstool, setting it on the floor beside the tub. Seonghwa pulled his suit jacket from his shoulders with a huff, undoing the cuffs of his freshly ironed Oxford shirt, and rolled the sleeves past his elbows. How he can manage a day doing his job and still look so pristine at the end of the day was a marvel to you. When he is done, he sits on the stool facing you.

You raise an eyebrow at him, and your hand slips up from the water to rest on the side of the tub in front of him. Seonghwa's fingers find yours, he runs his dry hand across yours and slowly up your arm and goosebumps follow in its wake. You let yourself enjoy the touch because your heart still hums happily when he does. At your shoulder, he brushes wet hair from your neck before taking your chin lightly in his hand.

You think he's going to kiss you. Maybe that's why it almost works.

"What was on that piece of paper?" He asks the question casually, but you know it is anything but. You don't let yourself be startled by him mentioning the letter. This was another mask, you could see it clearly since you'd started paying attention. He was acting, acting like your husband, when right now he wasn't. Right now, he is the underboss of Ateez. This is an integration tactic. You feel just the tiniest bit of your heartbreak at the realization that for the first time since your wedding day, you and Seonghwa were not a single unit or a united front, right now you're playing against each other, and it made you sick.

Luckily for you, you don't have to lie to conceal the truth, it will mean a very different thing to him than you.

"It was a note, from my brother." You reply quietly, almost somber. That was by design, this is your mask, mourning. You can see a flash of guilt in his eyes, and you know your trick worked. His hand dropped to hang limping over the side of the tub.

Over the course of the past two days, you had accidentally and on purpose spun a pretty lie to your husband. From his perspective, all he saw was his wife finding an old note from her dead brother and reawakening her grief. Although it's clear he has his suspicions. You suddenly feel very proud of yourself for beating Seonghwa in this battle of wits, as you can't always do it.

"I'm sorry sweetheart," he says and you know he means it but you shake your head at him.

"Don't be, it's a good thing" You reply, meaning it just as much.

-

You spend the next week anxiously waiting to hear from your brother. You hope he will reach out to you, to give you both more chances to talk and explain things to each other, but it has been radio silence. On Friday the nauseating anxiety came back even stronger. You dreaded the worst, that Joongki had found Kai and that your brother was already dead again. The thought makes you ache.

But you don't have to suffer through much more. The next Monday you received another note calling you deep into the city at a hidden speakeasy for your next rendezvous with your brother.

Seonghwa had been tough to crack to let that one slide. You had wanted to get him to agree with as little details as possible, for the sake of your privacy. But that hadn't worked out as well as you planned. You couldn't agree to let any of the Ateez members go with you, and for that, you had used the excuse of an old girlfriend from college wanting to catch up as if any of them knew how to contact you anymore. An Ateez boy would scare her, and Seonghwa could see that. The problem came when Seonghwa pressed for details on the location. If you denied him, he'd become more suspicious. You thought it best to just tell him and hope the path of least resistance allows you to slip through.

Your plan worked but not perfectly. on the day of he pressed the keys of his sleek black car into your palm and told you to drive safe. You knew that car had an advanced GPS that he could track through Ateez's security system, he would know if you veered off course. You had no intention of doing any such thing. You just hoped as you arrived that was all the precautions he'd taken.

You had gone into that meeting with a plan. A strong desire to straighten things out between the two men in your life, but the opportunity had never presented itself. Kai somehow with his disarming jokes and warm smiles seamlessly led the conversation wherever he wanted. Where he wanted was memory lane. All evening you drank and talked about your life as kids, it had been a long time since you’d laughed with anyone and it felt nice so you let it happen.

It's then that he asks about Seonghwa after you've reminisced and enjoyed yourself. You are thankful for the distraction, but now it is hard to focus on much of anything much less the complex relationship between you and our husband. You're both slurring your words as he emotionally asks you questions about your relationship.

It’s typical things a brother would say

"Sss- Sunshinee, you gotta tell me!" Kai asks, clasping an arm to your shoulder and looking at you with hard eyes.

"Does he treat you well?"

The response was hard, hard to say, and hard to remember. It was also getting hard to remember the number of drinks you've had. Your head feels heavy as it starts to droop to the side. The next question was easy, even in your current state,

"Does he protect you?"

You had replied with a resounding yes, nodding your head at him with certainty, though the motion made your eyes lose focus and you had to work to regain it. You wowed Kai with the tale of your shooting lessons and how Seonghwa had been against you even holding a weapon.

At that information, Kai had pulled his own gun from his belt and smashed it on the table. You jumped in your seat turning to him with annoyance about to chew him out for scaring you, but he had the words out first.

"I want you to take this,"

You had shook your head no, and swatted weakly at him as he pushed the metal into your grasp. You didn't want it. you didn't ask for the gun why is he pushing it in your hand? You make a distressed noise, some heads turn to look in your direction and you curse, slipping the weapon into your purse. Even when drunk you try hard to keep control of your wit and pay attention to your surroundings but you know that today you forgot that. Your eyes scan the room and even drunk you know your mistake. Your stomach drops enough to make your head slump forward in shame.

"Kai you need to leave," You say, tapping at him trying to draw attention to the tall man making his way across the lounge to your table. Kai, though he was drunk as a sunk only seconds before gets to his feet with surprising agility. Your last drink of alcohol hits you and you feel it drain any chance of you standing up to follow.

"I'll see you, tomorrow sis, I’ll come find you,"

You hear the words and smile at the knowledge you will not have to wait another week to see him. A shadow falls over your table, blocking out the light from one of the dim chandeliers. You're not afraid, it's only Yunho and Jongho. The two, despite being the muscle of the inner circle had always seemed the gentlest to you. Perhaps that is why you let them pull you from the booth and toward the door. You are not in mortal danger with these two, so your brain floats back to thoughtlessness.

As your bodyguards walks you to your husband's car, they are careful not to touch you as you slump down into the passenger seat with a huff and a drunken babble. Yunho gingerly buckles you in place, before closing the door. Your head spins as you lean into the seat, happy to find it already reclined to your preferred position. You get comfortable in the darkness. You know that inevitably when you get out of the car, they will be depositing you back with Seonghwa, along with the information that it was not a girl you were there to see. Faintly you wonder if the two happened to be there tonight or if Seonghwa had sent them to spy on you.

When you get home, the awaiting conversation will be unpleasant.

Yunho slides into the driver's seat. You notice him open your purse. If Yunho knows you're not supposed to have the gun concealed in the small bag he says nothing, finding the keys he pushes them into the ignition and brings the car to life.

On the drive back your head tilts, leaning on the cool glass of the window. You don't speak, your head is still spinning, and it isn't Yunho you're going to need to explain yourself too. You try to block out the dread building in you, and the alcohol makes it easier to forget your worries. Soon, you're asleep.

-

Distantly you remember being woken up by the car coming to a stop in front of your home, and if you really try to remember, images of your husband’s face as he laid you down on your bed also swirled in your thoughts.

You stir in bed, eyes still closed. Distantly you trace your hand across the silk sheet, petting the soft material. When you lift your head it pounds, the alcohol leaving your system. You hiss through your teeth at the pain. You open your eyes and look at the window, it's still dark outside. Your eyes flick to the clock. 3:32 am. You groan, and roll over, intending on going back to sleep, but when you automatically reach for Seonghwa's body lying next to you, you realize he's not there. And then you remember the events of the night that led you to this point.

You push yourself from the bed resolutely and your bare feet plant themselves on the carpet floor. It would be so easy to go back to sleep and let this be a problem for the morning, but you have to at least know if Seonghwa is in the house, or if what Yunho told him was enough for him to disappear into the night.

It doesn't take long for you to find him, as the only light in the house is coming from beneath his office door. He probably heard you descend the creaky wooden stairs, but he doesn't look up when you push the door to his office open. His broad back is to you when you enter, facing out the window into the dark night of the city around us. There's a fancy glass bottle of amber liquid on his desk, and a glass in his hand. Seonghwa wasn't a drunk, he didn't have the liberty to not be in his right mind most of the time. But he's been drinking tonight, at least since you've been asleep.

He doesn't turn as you cross to the leather sofa and sit down, your feet curling under you as you sit, making yourself small in his office, as if that would lessen the anger bubbling under the surface of his skin. He's angry, that's for certain, even just from looking at his back you can see the stiffness and rigidity, the tension in his muscles.

You watch as he raises the glass to his lips, taking a last drag to clear the glass. He still hasn’t turned.

"Where'd you get the gun, Sweetheart?

The nickname carries none of the usual affection.

Of course, you can't answer him. You couldn't betray your brother’s trust. You only just got him back; you will keep his secret going for his own protection. But it's only now that you realize what that may cost you. The truth is that you feel guilty, guilty for what happened to him. Maybe if you had been stronger your father would have involved you more in the business, you could have helped him and maybe stopped the whole misunderstanding from happening. It felt like you betrayed your brother by giving up on him so easily, just believing he was dead without question. You can’t see how this will play out, you don’t know how to reconcile your love for your husband with your need to protect your brother as the two were at complete odds.

When you don't say anything Seonghwa turns around. His face, which could be so soft and inviting, was all hard lines and sharp angles. The look he planted on you was piercing, suspicious, and calculating. He was watching you like he watches his business associates, analyzing your every move. It fills you with contempt to be looked at like this by him. Like one of his enemies. It’s true you’re deceiving him, but never would you betray him and it offends you that he seems to think you’re capable of that. It only makes you more defensive.

"Who gave you the damn gun." Seonghwa's voice cuts you like a knife, but you say nothing, your gaze dropping to the floor. You feel your lip tremble and you curse yourself for already feeling close to tears. There's no way to make him understand, you have no answer for him, not one that's yours to give. Seonghwa rounds the desk in a flash, moments later he's standing in front of you, arms crossed, eyes laced with venom, and a snarl on his lips.

"Who the fuck is he then, this man that's been writing you letters you feel the need to burn. He's getting you to sneak out, he's getting you drunk. What else has he been getting you to do?"

At that your gaze snaps up, your eyes just as fiery as his. Logically, you know how this must look to him, but you feel scorned by the very notion. Did he not remember that all you ever wanted from him was a happy marriage, and he had given you that. So how could he not trust that you meant it when you needed nothing else?

"What are you accusing me of Seonghwa?" You ask and your tone is icy. You glared up at him to challenge him, daring him to say it. After your 3 years together, through every obstacle that could have broken you apart, you both stood firm. How could he think so low of you?

"I think you know," He growls, the answer coming from deep in his chest. His eyes darken, and for a second you wonder if you should be afraid of him right now. But you not, you’re enraged.

"I want to hear you say it," You spit back. Would he be able to say it to you? Admit out loud what his conclusion suspicions came to? You think about how worried you had been to be a burden on him, and you feel that your suspicions have been proven correct. Maybe this was just a way out for him, to rid himself of the burden for caring for you. If that is true, you knew your resolution to keep Kai a secret from him is the right one, you needed a support system outside of this marriage if you could not rely on Seonghwa anynmore.

"You asked me to learn to use a gun." He starts, leaning over you with a leer, "Ever since then I've been able to tell you're keeping something from me. And now Yunho tells me he found you cuddled up next to some guy who ran off the second Yunho got close. And apparently, that man gave you this gun." As he speaks, he pulls the same weapon from his holster and slams it down on the coffee table. You jump at the noise, unable to stop it, but Seonghwa carries on.

"So my question for you, Sweetheart, is why the man you've been sneaking around with gave you it, did he tell you to kill me? and then you two could run away together?" It's not your husband speaking to you, its a hardened criminal, a man who has been taught by this world to suspect everyone and expect the worst. You feel your heart breaking because you never thought that that included you. Obviously, you were wrong.  

The most frustrating part is that with the information Seonghwa has, it would not have been a hard conclusion to come to for someone who has reason to distrust. But he was supposed to trust you. In fact, you wanted to scream in his face, how could you even have the opportunity to cheat on him when you've been on house arrest for months? But that's not what you say.

"Do you really think I'm capable of that?"

You can tell your words take him aback, his hard facade dropping for just a second when he processes your words. He's remembering, who you are, the girl he married, sitting on the leather sofa in your father's office looking as small and weak as you do right now. She would not be capable of doing what he's accusing you of. She is you, and although a lot has changed, does he really think you could change that much?

You can see him following that same thought process, his eyes glazing over as he thinks. But unfortunately, he's been in this world longer than he's been married to you, and it's clear which side of him is winning in his mind, underboss over husband. And his suspicions are not so easily forgotten.

"Out."

Seonghwa grits his teeth as he speaks, holding back more than he says. His eyes swim with emotion, more now than ever before.

"Excuse me?" You ask incredulously after processing his command. It was your turn to be taken aback.

"I said, get out."

Seonghwa had never spoken to you like this, cold almost uncaring. It was an order, like the ones he gave his men. Only this is out of anger, for fear of what he might say or do to you if you stay. He's turned apathetic, dismissing all of the emotion that was there only moments ago. Now when he looks at you, his eyes hold nothing.

Those words were the straw that broke the camel’s back. You felt your heart in your throat, and you were doing your best to choke back tears without his notice. Seonghwa spun on his heel, pacing back to the behind the desk. Ignoring you to seethe out the window as you stand on shaky feet.

"Ok, then. I'm leaving." You say aloud, trying to keep your voice neutral, despite how much you want to sob.

You know full well that Seongwha only meant to leave his office, as your presumed house arrest was still in place. But when he gave you the command, all you could think about was your brother's old habit, of disappearing into the night to blow off steam. You can't go back to bed, not now when the empty other side would only taunt you even more. You needed to be out of the house, having never quite understood Kai as well as you do at this moment. You go upstairs and change into something nondescript enough to not draw attention on an early morning walk.

-

You had slipped through a window on the ground floor of your home to leave. You doubt after the argument you just had that Seonghwa would have stopped you if you had just walked right out the front door, but you didn't much feel like risking it.

You walked for a while. The cool morning air does more to ease your heavy heart than you anticipated. The memory of the argument was still a pressing weight on your chest, restricting your breathing with each step, but the beginnings of the sunrise just barely beginning to lighten the sky was a calming influence on your still racing heartbeat.

You had never felt so shaken, hurt, and betrayed. But the morning walk had already made you come to terms with the fact that you had not helped you case much at all. But you didn't know how to make Seonghwa see, without exposing more than you should.

With the streets as quiet as they are, it would have been hard not to notice the sounds of a car turning down the street. You look up at the noise, glancing over your shoulder subconsciously. You are suddenly no longer upset, sad, or even angry. No, how could you be? When all you can feel is cursing hot adrenaline pounding in your ears and ice-cold fear grips your heart.

A van is slowly making its way down the street. It's all black, even the windows and the hubcaps. No logos or phone numbers are displayed on the side, this is no workman's vehicle. It's 4:30 a.m. on a quiet morning on a quiet street, and the van is entirely out of place as there is nothing here for it, except you.

The corner is approaching, your feet away, once you're around it whoever it is will still be close, but they won't be able to see you and that's the best chance you have. Your head strains to not look over your shoulder again, they are moving slowly, and you don't want them to know what you're planning to do. The second you round you start to run, full steam ahead down the sidewalk. By no means the subtlest thing you could do but what other choice do you have? There's no one around, you could reach for your phone but with their van, they would be on you before anyone could even pick up, much less help you. The thought makes you choke back a sob as you run, the idea of calling Seonghwa now, hours after he lectured you begging him to come and save you. Your brain curses your husband, as you clench your teeth, looking over your shoulder at the corner, no van yet, but you must have only seconds. If Seonghwa had not taken the gun your brother gave you you would be able to fight, defend yourself, maybe even get away.

You push those thoughts from your mind, partially because you have no time for them, partially because they are not true to your heart. The thought of Seonghwa appearing now to save you is embarrassing but is also the single greatest desire of your heart. Your eyes scan the road, looking for an alley, fence, or gate, anything that you could slip behind and use for cover as you make your escape. Adrenaline as your senses heightened and you can hear the sound of the van making its approach. Without time or options left, you dive behind some crates outside a small shop, hoping that whoever is in the van will carry on down the street, assuming you slipped away.

Time slows to a crawl. Your heartbeat pounds in your head as you focus on the sound of the van rounding the corner. It rolls along the pavement for about 30 seconds without change, coming nearer and nearer to your hiding spot. Your heart jumps into your throat when you realize you hear the van slowing to a stop, and you flinch aggressively when the sound of car doors swinging open hits your ears. You can feel your hands shaking and you press them into the cool concrete of the pavement trying to keep you from losing composure. Boots smack onto the ground, more than one pair, but you can't tell how many.

You suck in a breath, unable to exhale as the boots being spreading up and down the street.

"Ok, little lady, cute trick, but how bout you come on out" A gruff voice calls. Pure ice runs through your veins but you stay silent. It's quiet for five of your pounding heartbeats.

"I'm losing patience! We will find you so why don't you make it this way! The voice calls out, and pricks of spite seep into the words, you desperately try to place the voice, but you cannot. There is another pause, but then the sounds of shuffling boots.

"Come on little lady, you've got an appointment,"

They were getting closer. Any moment you would be found. And then what? Shot? killed right here on the street like an animal? You’re not far from home, and the thought makes you retch to die so close to safety but your brain swims with even worse images of your body being dumped on your front porch. Or even worse yet, they don't kill you here, they drag you away to do even worse things, things that would make you wish you were dead. Seonghwa would know, he knows these kinds of men and their minds, he would know their intentions. Before you can finish your spiraling the sound of boots just on the other side of the crates makes you freeze, you don't dare even to think for fear of making a noise.

"Kick it over." The voice calls.

What?

Before you have time to think about it something crashes against the pile of crates, sending the pile toppling over onto you. You can't help but scream in fear, revealing your location though they clearly could already tell. A box that had been perched right on top came falling down, the first box to collide with you but not the last. The crate cracks against your skull, just above the eye socket. Pain like you had never felt before sprouted from the spot, but in the next second, it was gone when the back of your head hit the concrete knocking you out.

-

When you come too, your hands are bound and there is something over your head keeping you blind. The next thing you realize is the pain radiating from your skull, back, and ribs. The crate pile had fallen on all of you, that you remember, but with the way your head spins even in complete darkness, the throbbing beating in your skull keeping all other pain to a dull buzz, you couldn't be sure if your injuries were from the crates or you’re handing after you lost consciousness.

Your knees fell onto cold hard concrete, and you couldn’t help but wince, bruises would already be forming on the bare skin. Without your hand to steady yourself at the rough treatment you fell in a heap on the floor. Only to shriek again when calloused hands grasped the ropes binding your hands together and pulling you upright. The rope stung as its weathered fibers dug into your wrists.

Your head was pounding. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears. You had not inhaled since you were thrown to the floor and the lack of oxygen only made your trembling worse. You shuddered a breath, but it did nothing to calm your nerves. The sounds of others moving about the room and the approaching footsteps made your stomach sink lower and lower with every step.

Light flashes in front of your eyes so blinding that you only manage a second before shutting them. You could feel a room full of stares on you, it was all you could do to peek your eyes open enough to see that whatever had been up over your head had been removed, only to be replaced by the figure of a skinny man and the glint of a gun.

It was him, of course, it was. You weren’t an idiot. You couldn’t feel proud of your deduction, not when pain and terror were all you could manage.

He was staring down at you from his full height, a smug look of accomplishment seared onto his features.

“My my, how you’ve grown.”

The words felt like a slap across your face. This man had helped raise you. You had mourned his supposed death, and now he stood over you, shoving that back in your face.

You were still terrified. But if you were going to make it out of this alive, you are gonna have to be smart and maybe, just maybe, get angry.

“Joongki”

“So, I heard you got yourself married, and to Park Seonghwa of all people. Now why did you have to go and do that. If you had stayed gone you could have lived.”

His words burned in your mind. Cold-blooded rage filled you. Your family died, you were at your absolute lowest, you had no fucking choice but to come back. If he hadn’t disappeared in the first place you would have been happy to hand over that responsibility to him. And now he’s blaming it all on you.

“That was smart of you. Handing off responsibility to someone who knows what they are doing. I’m proud of you, kiddo.” Joongki says with a sinister smile.

Another log on the flame. You still shook, your body still aches, but you willed yourself to speak with an even tone.

“Why am I still alive Joongki?”

At that he cracked into a full grin.

“Scared? Don’t worry darling, you won’t be for much longer." He asks with a chortle.

“I'm not scared” You shoot back, only barely concealing your seething. He stares at you in mild disbelief and amusement for a moment before speaking.

“And why is that?”

“Because when my husband gets here and I’m not alive? He’s going to do more than kill you,” you say the words, but your voice shakes. You are afraid, more afraid than you have ever been. And maybe, slightly, horrifyingly, you realize you've begun to doubt Seonghwa's need for you. You've started keeping secrets from each other, both of you, and Yeosong's words sear into your memory like a tattoo. 'Marrying you wasn't supposed to cause this many problems.'

“Is that what you think, do tell me more.” he replies.

“You haven’t been around in a while Jiyoung, you haven’t seen them at their worst.” your voice trembles, but it is your rage keeping you talking, overpowering the fear.

"And you have?" he asks in disbelief.

But you can't answer, you know you haven't. You know that now that you have been attacked, bound and thrown into the back of a bus. You think of your brother's words on the hill, 'seen and done things more barbaric than your mind can imagine.' You have a feeling you're about to experience some of these things at Joongki’s hand, and you scream at yourself for ever being cocky enough to leave your home unprotected just to prove a point. Well, this is where that has gotten you.

A door behind you didn't know was there crashed open with a bang. And a single pair of light quiet footsteps came through the door. unease entered your stomach and grew with the smirk on !!!! face.

"Why don't you leave us everyone,"

No, no, no, fuck God no. Why did it have to be him? The figure walks around your side, coming to stand at in front of where you kneel on the floor. Your eyes fix to the floor as they brim with tears, your heart breaking all over again as if you could stand to lose him one more time.

"Look at me," The voice of your brother calls, his words had only just been ringing in your mind. It shatters you. Crumbling every last piece of resolve and fight left in you. The past 24 hours have brought you nothing but anger and heartache and the single reprieve from all of it has been the single, glorious, monumental idea that your brother was alive, and every wrong choice for you had been the right one for him.

And now you're here, tied up at his feet, broken, beaten, and bruised. You don't look up. You can't meet his eye. You hear him sigh, you hear the scrape of metal, and see the legs of the chair he sets up before taking a seat but you still don't look at his face. You stay like that for a few moments, cowering at the foot of your brother while he holds you captive.

"Up here Sunshine." he goads.

The nickname makes your skin crawl. That name was for family, no family would do this to you. You say nothing allowing your mind to spiral into despair. This latest blow has taken all the fight from you, all the anger from moments ago. Slowly you raise your head to meet his gaze, if he's expecting anything more from you than the blank stare you give he will be sorely disappointed, emoting is the last thing you can do. Your brother smirks down at you, revealing more and more as the second passes just how satisfied he is with himself.

"I thought you were a cop." Your voice is hoarse and dry in both timbre and tone, who knows how long it's been since you've drank water. Its not a question, but he knows what it means. I need answers. The story he told you clearly was a lie, how much you don't know. Half of you doesn't even care, at this point what difference does it make, he betrayed you all the same.

"You want to hear how it actually went down?" He's almost giddy asking, eager to expand upon your misery. You stay silent, there are no words to fit your situation, the anger, the despair, the hopelessness, but most of all the betrayal paralyzes you, keeping you from doing anything but listening. He waits only for a moment, but once it's clear he will get nothing from you he carries on without another beat.

"Dear old dad and I got into a bit of an argument that night," he began, the wild grin on his face showed you he would be only to delighted to explain it to you, his master plan.

"I had been losing big at the Ateez casinos. I admit I lost a lot, but that fat old man had all the money in the world, so imagine my fucking surprise when I came to him, asking for a small loan to pay off the guys over there, and he tells me to get lost." Your mind is swarming with new information, you can’t even begin to consider Ateez's involvement with this story when your brother is talking like a monster. But he does not stop, not waiting for you to follow along.

"He was spouting some shit about how it would teach me responsibility to find my own money. Like responsibility makes any damn difference to us," Your brother grumbles the last part, and it gives you flashbacks to times when your brother would pout over you not sharing snacks and it adds fuel to the fire eating you up from the inside.

"I killed Dad,"

The words ring in your ears like a gunshot, and they are as good as. Your body crumples and you can't stop the sob from ripping through your chest. They have mortally wounded you. Betrayal of the deepest kind. You cried for this man, you mourned him with your whole being, you thrust yourself into this life to protect his and your father's memory and this is the thanks you receive. Hot wet tears pour from your eyes.

"I guess it wasn't necessary, but you weren't there, you don't know. I didn't wanna stop once it started." You retch, your disgust and sorrow so deep that your body is trying to rid itself of whatever is making it feel this way, but your stomach is empty after so little meals, and it only causes you more pain. No one had ever bothered to tell you how your family had died, you knew that meant violently, you knew they had been killed, all of this you could never imagine.

"Then came the hard part, some of Dad's advisors knew he was going to meet me, and I couldn't have anyone know I killed him, otherwise they'd never let me in charge, so for the time being I had to be dead too. Luckily knew just the guy." Your brother almost giggled at the mention of Jiyong, knowing that had to have been another nasty shock for me.

"It was hard work finding a guy that looked enough like me, wasn't hard to mess with his face enough once we'd killed him to make him identifiable as me, especially as the boy next to Dad." Your Brother carried on, recounting his horrible tale to you, leaving you as broken mentally as his men had left you physically.

"And all we had to do was wait, wait for the timing to be just right, wait for your big moment of weakness to swoop down and reclaim my throne," your brother sat up straighter, with his chin held high. Then as if snapping himself from his own daydream he looks down on you with more vile hatred than you have ever seen before.

"But then you had to go and get married to Park fucking Seonghwa, and hand over my entire kingdom!" the more your brother spoke the more unhinged his mind became. His madness was consuming him, and at the moment all of that anger was directed down onto you. He stands, so quickly it topples the metal chair, and you flinch, curling in on yourself, no longer willing to engage with this stranger you thought you knew. So, what if he killed you for it, you felt dead already.

Theirs an incredibly loud crash, forcing your eyes open, and when you look at the man you realize he flung the chair into the stone wall and was panting heavily while facing it. He whipped around back to you as if all the anger was expelled from his body in that one action.

"Now you understand Sis, there are no hard feelings really, but you are the one who had to go and ruin things by getting married, but luckily for you, we can turn this into a happy accident."

"What is it you want from me" you sob in a whisper, unable to look at the man anymore. Was the brother you knew ever real?

"Before our best hope was regaining our old territory, but since my baby sister is such a charmer, I now have the perfect bargaining chip over Ateez, it's about time someone taught those boys some responsibility" Your brother's voice twisted with sick delight. Your body starts before your brain, lurching you off the ground. Seonghwa.

You had betrayed him and you had done it on purpose. You could never have imagined that the letter would lead to this. You curse yourself, hate yourself even more than you hate the man in front of you. All of this, the whole great stinking mess, every problem started with you and your ineptitude. And now your brother was going to make Seonghwa and the rest of Ateez pay for it.

You no longer know what or how to think.

You don’t notice him leaving, you’re to numb. Even the aches and pains in your body are dull in comparison to the vast emptiness you feel inside. You’re glad the man is gone and out of your sight but some part of you perhaps the little girl who loved her big brother very much, misses him and wishes he was here to pull you up off the floor and protect you from any more harm. But that brother doesn’t exist anymore, you've already mourned him when he "died" The man who came back is a cruel stranger.

You don't know how long you lay there feeling empty, or when the brutes drag your unresponsive body to a small room and lock the door. Your mind barely recognizes the cramped space, but as you gaze around the dark space you realize it's a small supply closet, though whatever was once stored here is gone. You don’t have the energy to sit up, so your body curls in, conserving its body heat and you let your mind still feel too shocked to concentrate on any one thought. You remember faintly as you succumb to exhaustion, your brother embracing you on the hill in the cemetery saying, "I'm sorry for doing this to you," Before you have time to ponder it, you've fallen into a restless sleep.

-

When you wake you are lying flat on your back. You don't know how long you've been asleep but from the way your head still pounds it was certainly not long enough. But you don't feel awful. Your eyes crack open and you're staring at a blank ceiling, but it's bright not the dark room you collapsed in. Turning your head, you see paper curtains surrounding where you lay, an IV bag hangs from its rack to your right. You follow the thin tube as it trails through the air and into your arm. You want to be alarmed, to stand up and rip the tube from your skin and make your escape, but you're still so exhausted. You take notice of your body for the first time, covered in a blanket, you flex your fingers and toes. You notice that some of the pain is gone. The surface scratches and bumps that you got in your capture have been bandaged, and you have a feeling the IV is pumping you full of fluids to aid the dehydration that is surely one of the causes of the pounding in your head.

Your head turns when a small gasp breaks the silence. There's a woman, moving aside one of the curtains to look in on you. It’s obvious.

whoever this woman is it's obvious she's not a doctor, but she comes back she's holding a small plastic cup with 2 pills jostling against the sides you can tell she was the one treating you.

"What is that"

"Painkillers She can tell you don't trust her, by the suspicious look you give the plastic cup.

"Fine then, don't take them. makes no difference to me. Your brother put you in here for me to keep you alive, nothing more." She's putting on a brave front in front of you, but her eyes give her away. Unease pours from them, along with concern, but she doesn't let herself display either as she gets up and walks away, taking the pills with her. You can see her story clear as day. She was medically trained, maybe even used to be a doctor, but now she's here, working for your brother. She once had a dream to help people, and now she's keeping prisoners and gang members alive when they can't go to a hospital. It reminded you of yourself, and you couldn't help but feel sorry for the woman.

Guys come for you and push you into the same room from before and tie you to a metal chair at a metal table. Kai is already there, he's smiling.

"This is gonna be fun," He muses, eyes flashing wildly. He looks almost giddy, putting a hand out flat motioning for something. One of the men in the room walks forward and drops an old cell phone into his palm. Clearly, the number had already been dialed because all Kai did was press dial before it started ringing.

The dial tone rings intermittently, blaring in the silence of the room. You don't speak, you just stare right into your brother's eyes without blinking. In your current state, the best form of defiance you can give him is not being afraid, even though you have every reason to be. You are done feeling afraid, after years of paranoia, it all came true. The thoughts that kept you up at night, being hunted and attacked and taken, inevitably to be killed. You're living it now; fear will do you no good.

"Seonghwa, long time no speak buddy," Kai speaks into the microphone, his tone is coy and teasing. He dropped the phone onto the metal table after clicking it to speaker. It creates a loud clash of banging sounds. The metallic screech reverberates around the room. Despite how long it takes to quiet Seonghwa is silent for several seconds more.

"Kai," Your husband's voice replies flatly into the receiver. You're shocked to hear that Seonghwa recognizes your brother from voice alone. Kai doesn't seem surprised; in fact he cracks a grin.

"You'll never guess who I have here," Kai says in a singsong.

"Oh, I think I can. Put her on the phone." Seonghwa's voice is collected and calm, with not a hint of worry or concern in his tone. You remember that when you last spoke, he thought you were cheating on him. You hope that he figures it out and realizes who could be the only person you could ever trust as much as him is your own flesh and blood. Of course, now you know that was a mistake, Kai manipulated you to get you to lose faith in your husband, and once you trusted him, you listened to him and let him lead you right out from Ateez's watchful eye.

Kai motions for you to speak. You open your mouth on impulse, ready to call out to Seonghwa but your voice catches, words evading you. The quiet of the room is suffocating and it is on you to break it. With a great amount of effort and a very deep breath, you say the only thing you can manage.

"I'm here," your voice is still rough, and barely above a whisper, but it cuts through the air like a hot knife, breaking and building the tension at the same time. The only sound from the phone is an exhale.

"There you go Buddy, she’s alive, We can get right to our chat," Kai says, smirking like he won a prize. He leans back in his chair with a relaxed expression.

"Keep the chat to yourself, if I wanted to talk to a smug prick, I'd have called you myself."

In the absence of fear, you feel resentment. How dare Seonghwa sit there and make fucking wisecracking remarks while you're tied to fucking chair. You hate it, you hate hearing them talk, being reminded of what your husband kept from you. You asked him to spare you the gory details, not keep all of this from you just for you to find out here. Perhaps if he hadn't you would have known not to trust this man you could have turned and run the second you saw him on the hill, and Wooyoung was right there, surely if Seonghwa had met him the scrappiest member of Ateez likely had as well, he could have killed him then.

"Be careful Seonghwa, that almost sounded like a joke, you wouldn't want to make me start liking you now" But you know that's not possible even without knowing their past. You grimace, if your arm were free, you'd smack him like you did when you were kids.

"Trust me that wasn't my intention" Your husband shoots back, deadpan. You want to trust that Seonghwa knows that he's doing as he speaks. Your brother's tone is chipper, but you see the click of his jaw as he grits his teeth. Kai grins, but with his teeth still clenched he looks like he's snarling.

"Still holding that old grudge i see," Kai sneers into the phone, making it obvious he does as well. You hear Seonghwa sigh dismissively over the phone.

"You are wasting both of our time Kai, give your demands. Unless you didn't think that far ahead." Seonghwa drawls the words, he almost sounds bored. You hope that this is some kind of play because Kai's face lights with fury. You are starting to see the buttons Seonghwa is pushing, he's making the man across from you look stupid. You think that much is intentional, but he can't see Kai's face or the way it screws up in a fit of rage for a second and holds there. The seconds tick on and Kai doesn't move. With a jolt your brother slams a palm onto the metal table, sending a shock through you at the sound. Everyone in the room flinches, but Kai carries on.

"You've been making some especially shady move lately on behalf of Ateez isn't that right Seonghwa?" He asks, speaking slower, trying to force his causal tone into his voice, when something much darker bubbles beneath the surface. He doesn't wait for an answer,

"No of course not right? You and the rest of Ateez would never go breaking the rules right? Getting others involved, those not 'in the business'?" He asks the questions obviously knowing the answer so Seonghwa doesn't speak, electing to let Kai reveal how much he knows before talking.

"Those dirty politicians, the makers of the law, accepting bribes from Ateez, the biggest crime syndicate in the country. It's gonna be a headline, that's for sure, if I decide to realize it of course, but for right now while I have something you want," He trails off, looking over at you with a sinister grin, the same one you remember twisted into something evil. "I think I can ask for just about anything and you, between Ateez and the most powerful politicians in the country in your back pocket, have the means to make that happen. Am I right Seonghwa?" Kai concludes, a satisfied expression painting his face.

"What do you want." When Seonghwa speaks the words its not a question, it's a demand. This is the first time you catch a drop of emotion in his voice, he's severe and serious.

"Well, you se Seongwha, after I take back my territory, I want to bring a bit of variety to this business. Because right now, anyone trying to smuggle into the city has to go through one of your shipyards since you boys over at Ateez started paying off the foremen. But us over here? we are a classy bunch, and I think a few legal import licenses issued to my father's old legal front operation would certainly help with the business. And if a few pits of paraphernalia got mixed in? Well, accidents happen."

You can tell Kai is all too pleased with the plan he’s created. In fact, he seems almost eager to show it off to Seonghwa, like he’s trying to prove something.

"Of course, after I'm gonna come after the rest of Ateez. Don't worry I didn't forget about you." He concludes with a sneer. Its silent over the phone. When Seonghwa does speak it's not what you expected.

"Is that all? That's the best idea you could come up with?" He’s deadpan, void of and of his usual melody. If Kai had said it would have been a joke but from him, it sounds like he's scolding your brother.

"Do you want me to kill her?" Kai asks leaning over the phone and gritting his teeth.

"you're not going to kill her while you still need me for something, So I thought your demands would at least be a little more interesting." You want to scream at Seonghwa to shut up because the vein in Kai's forehead looks like its about to pop.

"Seonghwa, buddy, shut up and listen. You have 24 hours to get me those licenses while i leave with the rest of my men still working with you just because you knocked up my sister." Kai seethes over the phone, but hands white knuckling the steel table. He keeps talking, but you can't hear him. Your ears are ringing. 'Knocked up' you're pregnant. Well, how about that, on the list of things you expected to hear today that was not even on it.

Your mind flashes with images of a gurney, the IV bag, and the woman. She knew she did tests to keep you alive, and she found this.

Distantly you hear the sound of the call ending. And some kind of commotion going on across from you. It sounds like Kai is angry about something and is taking it out on the entire room. Who cares, your fucking pregnant.

"Get her back to that fucking room!" Kai screeches, pointing a finger at you then viciously out the door. He's standing now, you don't know when that happened, distantly you wonder if one of the loud sounds you heard was him throwing his chain against the wall again. His particular displays of anger are starting to lose their terror, and you can see why everyone has been so calm in the face of these meltdowns. He's like a spoiled child, and it's irritating rather than intimidating.

You let yourself be carried back to the closet, at this point only wishing to get some more sleep, the feelings and sensations of being awake are too much for you right now. Your thoughts swim with everything wrong in your world right now and the list seems endless. You hope for unconsciousness until you are traded back to your husband or killed. 'They're not going to kill me, yet' you think dully, thinking back to the words you whispered to yourself moments before you sealed your fate. You want to laugh; you didn't know how true those words would become.

-

It's been hours at least. You've been asleep, then awake, then asleep again, and now your eyes creep open for the second time. Despite having slept twice you still don't know the passage of time, it been impossible to tell from the pitch-black room and your restless sleep. Though your eyes have long since adjusted to low light. If they didn't give you real food soon, you're going to die of that before whatever horror Kai comes up with.

Maybe that means it hasn’t yet been 24 hours since the phone call. Kai had said something about 24 hours, some kind of threat, you hadn't cared to hear the rest of it. You'd find out soon enough. If it hasn't passed yet it must be nearing the deadline.

It felt like minutes later, but you had no way of knowing. When the door finally creaked open and Kai slinked into the room, his face was screwed up in a vile kind of concentration. You had seen his eyes countless times yet never like this, with something so dark in his eyes. He doesn't look happy, there's distaste in his features that you can see. You don't know what he is planning to do, so when he moves across the small space, encroaching in the small personal space you have you instinctively push back and away. You can't do much more than glare at him with all the hate in your heart and try to maintain your composure. Distantly you hear a loud crash echo through whatever building you're in, but Kai doesn't seem to notice.

Kai looms over you, bending at the wait. You wonder how he can even see you in the pitch-black room because he hasn't had time to adjust to the low light like you. But still, he leers over you, as if considering you, almost debating. You wonder if he even realizes that you can read his expression clearly despite the darkness.

"Hey Sunshine," Kai almost whispers into the darkness. The nickname aches. It sounds just like him, it feels like mourning your dead brother all over again even though he stands before you. You want to claw him, rip for nails down his face. But that wouldn't be enough to stop whatever it is he's planning. You don't respond. You don't even know if you could speak now. You've barely used for voice these past hours and you're sure it would only break.

"Silent treatment? You haven't done that since you were a kid." Kai says with a malicious smile, trying to get a reaction from you. You remain unresponsive. Kai lets out a breathy laugh, straightening up.

"Thats fine, stay silent, for as long as you can anyway. I have a feeling that once I'm done here your screaming will be heard down the hall."

He's crossing his arms, pleased with his retort and himself. It's hard to feel threatened when you've been in constant danger for months, but you have a feeling you should be more scared than you are. But you just can't manage that emotion, or any really. You just hope that whatever torture Kai has in store for you will be over quickly, so you can escape back into unconsciousness away from the nightmare you find yourself in. The distant noises seem to be growing louder as they roll down the hall.

Kai reaches behind him, into the waistband of his pants. From there he pulls something large and metal. It takes you a moment to place it, but you realize its bolt cutters, and the blade is sharp. He lifts them up, as if to show them off to you, turning them in his hands. Your stomach twists at the sight and you can't help but pull yourself deeper into the corner. You felt a bit of bile rising from your empty stomach at all the ways the tool can be used to hurt you even more.

"I had hoped Seonghwa would have just complied with my demands before it came to this." He says with a sigh, turning the cutters in his hand.

"I'm not going to enjoy this, and I think your husband knows that. He's always been infuriatingly perceptive; I don't know how you stand it." Kai's voice shakes slightly at the last words. "But if he thought that would be enough to save your fingers, he was wrong, maybe he isn't as perceptive as I thought."

You feel yourself start to shake. Your hands instinctively wring themselves in your lap. Suddenly the bolt cutters seemed much larger, and the blade sharper. The image of the blades cutting through your skin and bone made your skin crawl, and if your stomach had any contents to empty, you would have vomited.

"Or maybe he cares about you less than I thought."

His words drift through your ears. But at the same time, you hear distant noises but not so distant anymore. You heard a constant stream of bangs and voices, for now still far, but close enough to hear them shouting. Your head swivels to the door, of course, it blocks whatever is going on from you view. You imagine Kai's men preparing another attack on Ateez cities, the bangs being a cart of supplies rolling up and down the uneven floor and the voices barking orders. But no, it's too loud to be that.

Kai's arm shoots out, grabbing you by the neck. Instantly your air is gone, and you choke on the breath in your throat. He pulls you up slightly by your neck, forcing you to look at him. Your hands fly to his wrist, pulling and struggling against his hands but they do not budge.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I not entertaining enough for you?" He growls, his eyes alight with sick anger. It's like he can't hear the growing commotion outside the door. He holds you there, depriving you of oxygen with every passing second, his grip hard enough to leave indents on your neck. He waits as if waiting for a response, but you have no air to speak. Your eyes start to water, and your vision begins to blur when he finally releases you. You fall back into your corner and gasp for air.

"I'm done being nice, let’s get this shit over with."

Kai's and shoots out again, this time taking your wrist. He pulls your body from the corner and without your hand to balance yourself you fall in a heap on the floor. You are disoriented and terrified, when your eyes focus Kai is brandishing the bolt cutters, bringing them to your hand. You can't help it now; you start to scream. Your vocal cords feel like they're ripping to shreds as you scream, but you can't stop. You screw your eyes shut, as if being unable to see the cutters will stop them from cutting through your skin.

While you scream, you wait, wait for the unimaginable pain. But then again, you expected it to come by now, where is it? Your eyes crack open, but they are forced closed again by blinding light. Light? How?

Again, you crack your eyes, this time anticipating the light, but after hours in complete darkness, they take a long time to adjust. You feel the grip on your wrist drop. Automatically your body slumps to the floor on your back in relief, but that feeling is only multiplied by thousands a moment later.

"Someone get Seonghwa! I found her and the brother!"

It's at that moment that you can finally see again. And before you stands none other than Wooyoung. Silhouetted against the light from the hallway, a gun raised to Kai's temple. Kai is frozen in what can only be shock. Obviously, he had not predicted this outcome. To think that the noises you heard were the sounds of Ateez storming whatever facility you were kept, faintly your mind wondered how they even found the place.

But your mind can't hold the thought. As soon as your body and mind fully come to terms with the fact you've been saved you no longer want to think, instead you try and catch your breath. Your eyes can't help but stay fixed on Wooyoung at the door, unwilling to look at Kai again. He looks stern, his expression betraying nothing but malice, and maybe disgust. But his eyes are not as fixed on Kai as his gun.

Every few moments his gaze falls to you on the floor. You see him scan your body for injury, assessing your physical condition. What that condition is, even you don't know. You know your body must be battered and bruised, but you've been in pain for so long. You've gone numb to, based on Wooyoung's concerned glances, more bruises than you can count after being dragged and thrown about and beaten while here.

What is taking Seonghwa so long?

As if summoned by your thoughts, with the door open you can hear the sound of feet pounding down the hall at a rapid pace, you know it can only be him. You brace yourself to see him again, and your face twists in both guilt and anger when you remember the last words you said to one another. But as soon as he appears in the doorway all those thoughts leave you.

He's been shot. You can tell from the crimson leaking through his pressed white shirt. With horror, you realize that the bullet must have only just missed his heart, as the blood flows from right above where it sits. You wonder which of the bangs you heard in the commotion caused this. But he stands upright and alert as if there wasn't a gaping wound in his chest.

You expect to feel enraged, even resentful to him. After all, he had promised. He promised that this would never happen, and he had taken away your only chance to defend yourself that night. But you knew you weren't blameless in this either. You both had made so many mistakes that led you here. His eyes were locked onto yours from the moment he appeared, to your surprise he wore his expression proudly instead of hiding it. He looked despondent and slightly ashamed, but you see something brighter there too, and you feel it as well. Relief.

As soon as Seonghwa appears, Wooyoung lifts his leg to kick Kai in the chest. The man collapses the rest of the way to the floor, and you can hear the thud when he hits the concrete. Wooyoung then reaches out grabs the back of Kai's collar and drags him from the room. For the first time, Kai makes a sound, and it's a pitiful wheeze.

And then it's just you and your husband.

You want to move and stand on your own feet, but you can't. And you don't need to. Seonghwa sinks to his knees on the floor next to you, you feel his hand come up to softly cup your face and your eyes stream with tears at the touch.

"I.... I-i" Seonghwa tries to start, but he seems to be at a loss for words. Even with tears filling your eyes you exhale a laugh.

"Yeah, I know." You respond, stopping his attempts to force words. Because you do. You remember the anger you expected to come that never did, and you imagine Seonghwa had expectations of his own on what he was going to say when he found you. But if there is anything you've learned these past few years, it's that your expectations are often wrong.

Seonghwa carefully as if you were made of glass, helps you to a sitting position. You see him from the corner of your eye, flinching at every sharp intake of breath when your movements hurt your broken body. Seonghwa leans your weight against his own, allowing your body to rest against his side while you sit. You try to protest.

"Seonghwa, no, you've been shot" You try to reason, but it falls on deaf ears. He lets out a bitter laugh. His face, which could be so soft and yet so sharp has never looked more vulnerable, and his dark hair falls in front of his eyes.

"Darling, while I appreciate the concern, it’s laughable given the state your in."

You roll your eyes a bit, but you can't help but smile, hearing his voice was as soothing to your pain as any medicine.

"We'll call it even."

-

When You two stand and make your way into the hall there are already Ateez men and police officers stationed on either end of a ruined empty hallway. It stuns you to see how quickly the battle was won, but from the sound of it, it was a complete surprise. Seonghwa wrapped an arm over your shoulder and pulled you close, almost using you as a crutch, not that you mind. He leads you down the hall and when you turn it becomes clear how it was done. He leads you through a set of faded blue double doors that open out onto a steel walkway overlooking an abandoned factory floor. The old, ruined machines piled to the side to make way for the rest of the scene.

The large garage doors at the far end of the large brick space and outside you can see what looks to be hundreds of police, SWAT officers, and surely some of Ateez's own men surrounding the building. In the center of the concrete floor, there are about 50 of the deserters bound and gagged, seemingly waiting for arrest. They are lined up close to the garage doors.

Closer to you, there are sheets covering large swaths of the dirty floor. Your stomach lurches, knowing what is underneath. Seonghwa leads you both down the short metal steps to the floor, through a row of sheets to the very center of the massive room. Here the rest of Ateez stands, all surrounding Kai who is bound and gagged the same as his men already sporting black eyes On the ground next to him is Joongki's corpse, with no sheet to cover him. You deduce the deal Seonghwa made with the politicians, they work together to take down the thorn in Seonghwa’s side. The police take credit for arresting 50 wanted criminals in one fell swoop and Ateez gets Kai, to do with as they please.

Seonghwa releases your shoulder with a firm squeeze and an even firmer look. 'Stay put' his eyes say you know he is telling you to stay here next to Yunho. But, you have no intention of stopping him. Seonghwa turns and Hongjoong, who is standing between Kai and the corpse, he holds out a handgun by the barrel for Seonghwa to take. Seonghwa crosses the space in two long steps and takes the gun from his boss's grip. He looks down at the man looking up at him with pleading eyes. Seonghwa scoffs, raising the weapon in the air before bringing the butt down across Kai's face. Kai gasps in pain and then chokes. He opens his mouth perhaps to beg, but instead, he makes a croaking noise.

"Your mistake Kai is simple; it was thinking you could beat us in this game. You thought that you were a threat when you were nothing more than a nuisance." Seonghwa spits the words with ice cold furry, he is unforgiving and unrelenting as he leans over the battered man.

"You should have known from the first time you heard I'd made deals with politicians that you had lost. That it was only a matter of time before we had the resources to storm this place, as if we hadn't already figured out where you were hiding. The only thing stopping us was a lack of manpower because of you stirring up rebellion. I don't like those people, in their ivory fucking castles thinking that because they make the law, they're above it. But I've always been more than willing to put my morals aside." Seonghwa was hunched over Kai despite the bullet wound still draining blood.

"Your father knew it too. He tried to show you were too arrogant, and flippant, that unless you learned consequences you blunder yourself into an early grave,"

"I am going to deliver you to him," Seonghwa speaks the words with finality. With his dark hair falling loosely around his face and his grim expression, almost sober, you're sure that from Kai's glossy eyes, he looks like the grim reaper come to call. You don't feel sad for him, you buried your brother 3 years ago.

You're not happy to watch him die, but still, you do. You watch as Seonghwa straightens up and lifts his arm, aiming the gun point blank. You know that even this is a small kindness to the man, killing him now, instead of making him pay more thoroughly, you suppose that's probably for your sake not his.

When the shot rings you don't feel any better, but you certainly can't say you feel any worse.

-

"So, you knew him the whole time."

Your words rang in the vast space of the VIP room at the hospital. Rooms like these are saved for presidents, CEOs, and you. The luxury of the room was making it hard to feel comfortable, your IV bag stood out against the warm wood of the walls. The space would be big enough to host a small party, as it contained a fully carpeted seating area with plush couches, decorative plants, idyllic paintings, and even a glass chandelier. It should feel comforting to be back in a world of care a splendor, make you feel like the last two days had been some sick freak nightmare. But didn't, the only thing offering you the slightest bit of comfort was Seonghwa's warm hand in yours

"Yes," He replied calmly. Not the same empty calm as he was over the phone, but something kinder, it was the voice he used at home.

To his credit, Seonghwa seems to have lost all the suspicion and anger he felt towards you the last time you were face to face, just as you have. But you can’t help but wonder, just how many steps ahead he had been, not just to Kai, but to you as well.

“How long did you know he was alive?”

“Not long,” Seonghwa’s voice sounds slightly choked, he’s staring at you, waiting for you to unleash your anger on him. You can almost see your fight playing over and over again in his glassy eyes. You sigh, wishing Seonghwa would stop looking so God damn guilty. You want to reach your hand to his face, and ease some of the worry, but his grip on your palm is tight, unwilling to let you go.

“If I had known-“He starts, and you can already hear the impending apology on his lips, the resignation and desperation dripped into his words. You cut him off,

“I could have told you, but I didn’t.” You don’t say this out of guilt, and Seonghwa already knew that fact anyway. But you said it to remind him that you are just as much to blame. Seonghwa swallows his words. His brow furrows, and you can tell he feels responsible for the pain you’re feeling, and you doubt no matter how much you try and convince him otherwise his opinion won’t change.

"Why not tell me? That you knew him" You carry on, asking the question that you’ve been dying to know since this all began.

"I was going to talk to you about him initially, but it didn't take me long to realize you were unaware of what he was. I did not want to burden you with the knowledge of the kind of man your brother was, especially so soon after his death. So, I kept it to myself." Seonghwa replied without hesitation as if to prove how honest he intended to be.

You couldn't even really fault him for that. How could Seonghwa have known he would have needed to break my already broken heart back then in order to prevent this trauma in the now? He couldn't have, it's as simple as that. But it's been 3 years since then.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" You don't let any hint of accusation seep in, though his answer to this question could hurt you. But you're not concerned, because you didn't doubt what he would say.

"Yes, I did,"

You could tell Seonghwa felt guilty, you could see it in the subtle twitch of his lips down as he said the word, trying to keep a frown from his face. You could see it in his eyes waiting for your anger, yet continuously being surprised when he did not see it.

You sigh at him, leaning back onto the softest hospital cushions you've ever felt that were propped up against the inclined bed. You took the time to really look at him. He too looked older than the last time you saw him, his hair is longer too, it just brushes past his browbone, and you know soon it will be long enough to brush from his eyes. And his eyes, they were usually so bright and alive, now they had deep dark circles. He looked defeated, despite having won.

"I'm not angry with you Seonghwa," You say serenely, flipping your held hands to run your thumb over his bruised knuckles. Seonghwa huffs, shaking his head and breaking your gaze.

"You should be." He grits through his teeth.

"Are you angry with me?"

At that Seonghwa's head shot up in surprise, he looked so genuinely confused for a moment.

"No-no?!" He replies so quickly, almost urgently, that he stutters on the word. He was still so confused it came out as a question. You laugh at his face and at the stutter, it's not often you can fluster Seonghwa, and you appreciate the chance while you have it. Seonghwa's confusion morphs into general bewilderment as if wondering what's gotten into you. You shake your head and even your breath with a smile.

"Seonghwa, the truth is you have every right to be as mad at me as I do for you. In fact, we made many of the same mistakes, I hid Kai from you as well, and I let myself lose trust in you too." Seonghwa flinches at that last line, stewing in his memory of the words he had thrown at you. But you can't help but think accusing you of cheating after finding you drunk with another man, is not the farthest jump anyone could have made even if it had been so hurtful at the time.

"So, if you're not mad and me then I'm not mad at you." You’re sincere in your words, and even Seonghwa must relent to them after another moment of hesitation. But he can't force you to be angry with him. You both were far too spent and have had far too many conflicting emotions over the past hours. Love is comforting, and healing, you both needed these desperately.

You lean down to where he sits by your side and kiss him. It's a soft and gentle dance of lips, not driven by need or desire, just great affection, and love. You had taken a chance on this man 3 years ago, a leap of faith into his arms that led you here. It hadn't been a pleasant road necessarily, but you couldn't regret it since it led you here. Safe again, finally, with your husband who you love and loves you in return. You break the kiss as slowly as you start it, laying a hand on your stomach.

"So, what are we going to do about this?"

-

Very long authors note if you’re curious

Aha! Here it is, my magnum opus. I’ve arisen from the ashes on inactivity for this last parting gift.

I know I previously called LADEVOTEE (and I did love writing that) but let’s me real here, this series is probably the most popular and lasting thing I’ve posted on here I have received a lot of support and encouragement not only this series, but on my posted works as a whole which continues to surprise me.

Writing fan fiction believe it or not was alway been more about writing and storytelling than it ever was about kpop and I only wrote smut cuz it’s more engaging, I’m Ngl I’m really not involved in the kpop fandom anymore (though I still saw Ateez in concert last year)

I’ll be honest I never plan of being fully active on here again, it’s been years and I got different shit going on but hey never say never, I’ll probably still post from time to time.

P.s i am curious to know if anyone guessed the plot twist? Cuz like I was trying to drop hints but also I really wanted it to be a surprise

#ateez smut #ateez au #ateez oneshot #seonghwa mafia au #seonghwa smut #seonghwa oneshot #ateez mafia au #ateez series

[rubirenegade]

Experimenting with costume designs I might have preffered to the excellent work they did for The Lords In Black :)

(LONG POST WARNING: UNNECESSARY RAMBLINGS AHEAD)

I did find them enjoyable as heck and the performances were damn excellent, just wanted to try to imagine how I might have brought them to the stage to satiate my own desire for THE TERRIFYING LORDS IN BLACK

Clarification: I have zero stage experience so PLEASE, give me comments and ideas of your own to fix potential issues of my design, if this got your imagination going ❤️

Goals:

1. Maybe less comfy outfits, but not overbearing.

2. Closer to the dolls' design

3. Still on a budget: no crazy heavy dragging full suits like Ursula or Pinsir puppeteering.

4. Creep factor increase, meaning: Less visible faces! One of the creepiest traits for the lords is that they have no clear faces, making them uncanny and disturbing, lovecraftian and unreachable. Think the hive controlled people in tgwdlm or the giant spotlight eyes in Black Friday, gazing at you from a paranormal abyss.

5. Keep the things I liked in the originals, especially the acting.

Details:

1. Pokey: Singular Voice, keeper of many faces

having a mask under the mask he is holding will give him a more uncanny phantom-of-the-opera vibes and less visible facial expressions, leaving much to be desired

Also: more masks to cover his jacket, as his voice speak from many mouths.

Other idea: a Jacket made of realistic skins he stiched from faces (a bit much though, probably)

2. Tinky: horns is all you need

Curt's facial expressions are the exception to this "no face" concept. Just too damn good not to leave it as is. Goats horns will do as an addition, simple. Maybe face paint to have dark circles around his eyes, giving him a sleepless maniac vibes, could help- making his crazy eye looks stand out.

3. Wiggly: glowing eyes in the dark

The one I changed the most. I want to really FEEL the Wiggly from Black Friday. I want the glowing eyes in the dark, the creepy tentacles, the lack of a visible mouth under them.

A pair of glowing goggles will do, or two lightweight flashlights on some flashy headgear would do.

The mouth prosthetic might be a bit much, I'll admit. Maybe a mask, Scar-From-Twisted style, could work here just as well (again, this is a relatively short screen tim).

And claw hands and feet, for him to open all his deliciously loud screaming presents :) not critical, but adds dangerous vibes to our Wrath Fuel Frendy-Wend

4. Blinky: Eye think it should work

Big mask. Eye shaped. Done. (Again, Scar-masking could also work, probably even better)

(I assume that if its too hard to sing in the mask, another cast member could sing from backstage)

5. Nibbly: YUM YUM

Probably the hardest for me, it's just so damn good and Kim fucking nailed this. The giant lolipop and cutesie outfit are AMAZING and just easily floor me.

So, I went with simple facepaint to give her a giant mouth. Might not work in practice, but if they gave her a see through blindfold colored in her skin tone it might make her eyes vanish, leaving only the mouth to focus on. Maybe the hat goes town to shade her eyes instead. Anything to bring the mouth to the front and have the eyes disappear (decided now Im gonna painted that next)

Other ideas: blood smeared into a giant smile (might make mouth seem smaller though) or a realisticly painted giant mouth nask (which will make Kim's bite lifeless, so not a fan of it)

Conclusion:

I love these characters and brought my own idea of how to put them forth on screen to keep their lovecraftian horror vibes while keeping it realustic viable for a Starkid production. Hoped you liked it!

SUMMON US ONCE!

SUMMON US TWICE!

YOU GAMBLE IT ON THE ROLE OF THE DICE!

#starkid #nerdy prudes must die #lords in black #the lords in black #wiggog y'wrath #nibblenephim #pokotho #bliklotep #tnoy karaxis #wiggly #hatchetfield #the summoning #the black and white #go nighthawks

[gremoria411]

The poor decisions don’t stop, since I decided to start Gundam Ibo Urdr Hunt while watching 0079. (Though realistically, it seems I’ll just end up putting 0079 on the back burner for a bit). This was motivated by Four Factors:

The announcement that they’re actually going to do something with the series going forward (I’m *hoping* for a full series or compilation movie, but I can’t guess at how practical that’d be, since I don’t know what the series is like yet). Regardless, I felt I should at least watch the series so I have an opinion on it. EDIT: I’m betting a compilation movie, there’s a lot of reused animation, and a lot of the parts lacking animation are conversations.

I already bought the model kits of both the Marchosias and the Asmoday purely on the strength of their designs, and I kinda want to decide if the Hajiroboshi or Cyclase’s Schwalbe Graze are similarly worthwhile (I’m slowly coming around to the Graze), since now’s probably the best time to go for them.

I kinda really want to know what’s going on with Cyclase Mayer. I really liked Mcgillis, and so I’m interested in seeing what a similarly designed character is going to be like in Post Disaster (plus, he’s a serious-faced man in a business suit, so he’s probably going to be fun to watch just from a broader perspective, given what characters in this universe typically have to deal with).

I haven’t actually been that excited about it, which annoys me. Maybe I didn’t see much hype, maybe it’s too close to Witch from Mercury/ the SEED Movie, or maybe I’d just gotten a little too settled in Post Disaster

Also, I just watched the opening for the first time and feel like I should jot something down;

Do each of the rings come with a maid? And Cyclase has two of them? Is he just trying to put a maid household together by collecting all the rings?….…….is this a Gundam harem anime? (I mean I know they’ve been trying to diversify lately, but still….)

Obviously it isn’t, but the thought did briefly cross my mind as I watched the opening.

*the following contains spoilers for the first four episodes of Gundam Ibo: Urdr Hunt*

I’ve watched the first four episodes, as of writing, so I’m just going to jot down a few thoughts;

I like how each of the maids is shown to be different in personality. Berose’s so obviously unhappy with her posting and Parstai actively manipulates things to get a better owner for the Urdr hunt ring (granted it didn’t take much). And then Korunaru’s just cheery by comparison.

I kinda expected the Zan Brothers to be a comedy side-act - a duo of bumblers pursuing the Urdr hunt, based on their aesthetics (very flashy). As such, Rome murdering a human debris for failure and Aiko barely concealing his hostility toward his idiot brother were both very surprising, and a welcome addition.

I didn’t expect I’d like Range’s suit, the Enzo, as much as I did. It feels like someone took the Hexa Frame used by the Hugo and made an actually solid mobile suit out of it - Range loses because he’s outclassed, not because the design is lacking in any particular way. It’s balanced, well armed and has a neat aesthetic. Good job guys.

Similarly, I really like the design of the Monkey Rodi’s. So sleek.

Alright, so I’m assuming the Chairman of the Board for the Omden Colony Company is Torrado Omden? Regardless, absolute peak character design. Man looks like an overgrown toddler and I hate him for it. It really sells him throwing away resources and lives on this thing as…… sorta casually despicable? Like it’s a bad financial quarter?

Overall, I’m really enjoying it. But I do have two criticisms I want to note at this juncture. Though I’m reasonably certain that it gets addressed later, Wistario Afram (is it Afram or Afam? I think it’s Afam, but Afram just rolls off the tongue better) is just kind of the least interesting of the Urdr Hunt participants we’ve seen so far. Like, he wants to use the money to rebuild the Venus Colony into a major tourist attraction. That’s a solid, achievable goal, and the way he talks and acts makes me feel like it’s less about “can he do it” and more about “how will he do it”. I don’t mind that angle, but it’s very different from everyone else around him. Range is trapped working for a company that will cut him off for any perceived failure, and he’s grappling with the fact that it’s not the solution he thought it would be and that he’s got more in common with Afam than his employers. It’s a good angle, as he slowly re-examines what his place in the world, and the crushing pressure exerted by both the Colony Company - a very powerful organisation, as evidenced by the fact that they consider the grand prize of Urdr hunt to be pocket change; and that exerted by the Hajiroboshi itself, a Gundam from the Calamity War. Meanwhile, 598 is enamoured with the idea of becoming like Tekkadan, showing the far-reaching influence they have, however, he’s forced to re-evaluate his own actions and who they’re truly for - in doing so, he can realise who his enemies are and actually take steps to free himself from their control, and from there take’s the first step to becoming like his idols in Tekkadan. They’re both very compelling characters, and it’s just unfortunate that Wistario can’t seem to eclipse that. It could be that we were just told how bad the situation is in Venus, rather than shown - a few shots of the prison’s might have helped, or showing how they affect the populace.

That said, now that I come to write this all down, both of their origins are somewhat similar to Tekkadan (598’s for obvious reasons) - it’s possible that I’m only rating them as highly as I am due to the familiar elements. With that in mind, it is possible that Wistario may offer a fresher perspective on the world of Post Disaster.

My second criticism is one I’ve mention before, regarding Noisy Fairy; Don’t call someone “character A” it’s stupid, because the message it sends to me is “this person isn’t worth caring about”. If a character is worth caring about, they’re always called “mysterious girl” or “???”, so “Girl B”, “Mercenary A” and “Board Member C” are just worthless. Does it cost more to give them names? Do named characters denote different rates for their voice actors or something? It’s just really immersion-breaking, because it creates the sense that named characters are the only ones that matter.

(Also Radonitsa Colony being essentially a prison colony is great, because it roughly parallels the real- life British Empire’s treatment of Australia, though granted without any natives).

#gundam #ramblings #gundam ibo #Gundam Iron Blooded Orphans #Gundam Iron Blooded Orphans Urdr Hunt #Wistario Afram #Range Dubrisko #598 #Enzo #Monkey Rodi

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Introduction Practice

Team Sapphire

Nobunaga: "Okay. Let's start with you, Shingen."

Shingen: "The gentleman thief who will steal your heart has arrived. Wait for me under the moon tonight."

Ieyasu: "Ugh, so pretentious."

Yoshimoto: "But isn't a phantom thief supposed to be pretentious? It's better to go all out."

Shingen: "He's right. Being a little pretentious is okay."

Hideyoshi: "I'd also love to hear Lord Nobunaga's introduction!"

Nobunaga: “An introduction, huh?"

Ieyasu: "If Nobunaga says something pretentious, I might catch a cold."

Mitsunari: "Lord Ieyasu, are you feeling unwell?"

Ieyasu: "Shut up, Mitsunari."

Shingen: "So, what's your introduction?"

Hideyoshi: "How about something like: The Sixth Heavenly Demon King! I will take everything from you without mercy!"

Nobunaga: "Hideyoshi. Are you trying to pick a fight with me?"

Hideyoshi: "T-That's not my intention..."

Yoshimoto: "It's an interesting suggestion, though. Why not give it a try?"

Nobunaga: "The Sixth Heavenly Demon King. I will take everything from you without mercy."

Ieyasu: "It's scary. The tone has changed, and there's no freshness to it."

Nobunaga: "Ieyasu. If you have time to complain, then you should give it a try."

Yoshimoto: "How about: I shall claim your heart, I swear upon the name of Tokugawa!"

Ieyasu: "You're just saying whatever comes to mind."

Shingen: "Well, why don't you try it, Ieyasu?"

Ieyasu: "Be prepared, for I shall claim your heart."

Mitsunari: "It's wonderful! I need to consider my introduction."

Hideyoshi: "I need to think of my introduction as well."

Ieyasu: "Sigh. Are we really going to do this?"

Team Ruby

Yukimura: "Introduction, huh? That's a tough one."

Sasuke: "I'm actually good at coming up with those kinds of things."

Masamune: "Oh, nice. Sasuke, come up with introductions for everyone."

Ranmaru: "Make them cool, okay?"

Keiji: "I like something flashy!"

Kanetsugu: "It's up to Sasuke. We're counting on you."

Sasuke: "Okay. Let's start with Yukimura."

Sasuke: "His passion, hidden behind a flapping cloak, will not let his prey escape."

Yukimura: "Hey, you're treating me like a wild boar."

Ranmaru: "Come on, do it for the others too!"

Sasuke: "Alright, next is Masamune."

Sasuke: "Watch this exciting show as I take your lips away."

Masamune: "Heh, I like that."

Yukimura: "That's totally different from mine."

Keiji: "Don't sweat the details! Your introduction was cool, too, Yukimura."

Masamune: "Sasuke, keep going."

Sasuke: “Alright, next is Ranmaru.”

Sasuke: “A bewitching little devil descending from the sky, taking your hand.”

Ranmaru: “It’s cute and cool! I’ll go with that.”

Sasuke: “Thank you. Now, onto Keiji.”

Sasuke: “The storm-bringing prodigy! I will boldly sweep you away!”

Kanetsugu: “It suits him perfectly. Very Keiji-like.”

Sasuke: “And for Kanetsugu...”

Sasuke: “I will always obtain the treasure of passionate fire hidden in your eyes.”

Keiji: “That conveys that he’s a passionate man, too. It’s great.”

Masamune: “Let’s think of introductions for Sasuke as well.”

Yukimura: “I’ll come up with one. It’s payback for earlier.”

Yukimura: “A glimmering pair of glasses. Behold, a slightly amazing phantom thief!”

Sasuke: “Thank you, Yukimura! I think it’s really good.”

Yukimura: “Damn it, don’t act like you like it.”

Kanetsugu: “Anyway, we’ve got introductions for everyone now.”

Team Diamond

Kennyo: "I guess it's necessary to think of a speech if you want to call yourself a thief."

Motonari: "It's a pain in the ass, but let's do it."

Kicho: "Let's make one for a few people first, and after we finish it, we'll come up with one for all of us."

Mitsuhide: "Yeah, it's important to have the same direction."

Kenshin: "Then, I'll go first."

Kenshin: "I will cut down everything and protect my treasure. There is nothing I cannot steal."

Motonari: "It's too straightforward. It would be better to add a twist to make it more phantom thief-like."

Kenshin: "What does it mean to be phantom thief-like?"

Mitsuhide: "Pretentious, dazzling, and light-hearted. These are some of the attitudes necessary for a phantom thief."

Kennyo: "How about adjusting it to something like: There's no treasure I can't steal, even from the most invincible guards."

Kenshin: "I see, not bad."

Kicho: "Kenshin, give it a try."

Kenshin: "Don't order me around. That's what I'd like to say, but fine."

Kenshin: "There's no treasure I can't steal, even from the most invincible guards."

Mitsuhide: "It's quite refined."

Motonari: "So, we should create them in a similar way?"

Kennyo: "Whose introduction should we think of next?"

Mitsuhide: "How about Kicho? Let me come up with one for him."

Kicho: "........."

Mitsuhide: "In the pitch-black night, a gracefully dancing butterfly will take its treasure."

Motonari: "That's unique to Kicho. It's good. Give it a try, Kicho."

Kicho: "In the pitch-black night, a gracefully dancing butterfly will take its treasure."

Kenshin: "Hmm, not bad."

Kicho: "I just said what I was told to say."

Motonari: "Let's keep this up and make one for all of us."

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen jp #ikesen #ikesen translations #cybird #ikesen spoilers

[istadris]

@multicolour-ink gave me permission to share this idea I had about her daemon AU (which you should absolutely check out because :

1)it’s absolutely amazing and gives me lots of feels

2)the rest of the post won’t make much sense otherwise)

*

After the Power Star broke their mental barrier, after they learned once again to enjoy the touch of each other’s souls, at some point the bros are on an adventure in another kingdom.

Or rather, they’re in Trouble.

They’re on the run from Bowser’s troops, with a hefty price on their heads (especially Mario), and while they have fought the army before, they’re currently ragged, with no power ups around, and are forced to run and hide this time.

Thankfully, the kingdom they’re hiding has races with daemons, so their companions don’t stand out too much...but if the Koopa Troop starts asking questions, their description might give them away quickly.  They manage to sneak inside an abandoned mansion (no boos around, thankfully) and find all sorts of clothes and costumes. Disguises! That’ll do the trick!

That’s when Luigi thinks of something completely crazy, but just to muddle their tracks further...what if they switched daemons for a while? Touch is not a problem with them and none of their enemies would expect them to pull such an outrageous trick. They know the other’s daemon enough to expect any reactions. And it’s only for until they can find a way home. It’s crazy, yes, but it could work!

Mario doesn’t like this idea at first, obviously; what if they get separated and their daemons feel the pull? What if someone figures out their souls don’t match their human? But he doesn’t have any better idea...and after thinking on it for a bit, he realizes that Luigi is not suggesting it on a whim : he would trust Mario with Belissia, with his very soul, despite having lived through the trauma of Bowser trying to separate Luigi from his daemon. Likewise, if there is one person in the world Mario would absolutely trust to look after his daemon, it’s his brother.

They still practice for a bit, while looking for clothes and supplies; Mario feels weirdly unbalanced without the large presence of Eliseo by his side, feeling him further than usual (not to the point of hurting, but usually, his daemon is barely a couple of steps away). And it’s even weirder for Luigi, who’s used to his daemon skittering all over his body.

They find clothes and dress up, and try to look as different as possible for once. Mario grabs the most simple and mundane clothes he can find, counting on trying to be unremarkable and plain. Luigi should probably follow his lead, but as he comes across what seems to be the suite/personal quarters of the master of the mansion...he can't help it: he's already dreamed to dress fancy, to look elegant and rich, and these clothes are so beautiful, so delicate...he compromises his more flashy appearance by using a kind of veil to hide part of his face.

As they reach a big town, they start feeling eyes on them. Whispers and open stares, some even pointing, and worst of all, Luigi seems to be the one drawing them. Or is it Eliseo ? It's rude to stare at someone's dæmon in Mario & Luigi's world, but it seems this kingdom doesn't have the same customs.

Then suddenly the mayor of the town strides towards them with several guards, and Mario is bracing himself for a fight...but no one pays him any attention and instead, the mayor goes straight to Luigi, welcoming him warmly into their town and thanking him for granting them such a high honor by his visit.

Turns out, in this kingdom, dæmons are strongly associated with status, even more than in the Bros' world. And a lion dæmon? That's the mark of royalty, assuredly. Both brothers are caught off guard but manage to play it off ; yes yes, Luigi is a prince from another kingdom, and Mario is his personal servant (with "his" ferret dæmon, no one bats an eye at his low status). Thankfully, they have learned enough from spending time with princesses and kings to be convincing.

Meanwhile Mario has to make himself into something he hates to be. Quiet. Small. Unnoticeable. Slipping out of sight as if he never existed. But Belissia by his side helps him see the power of hiding in shadows and concealing his true nature, and he realises there's a side of his brother even he never noticed.

Mario does his best to stay around, but sometimes he's supposed to act like a servant and needs to leave his side (thankfully not far enough to become uncomfortable for their dæmons).

It's a very stressing time for Luigi; he regrets suggesting that plan, he wishes he could cuddle Belissia to reassure himself when dealing with the high ranked people of the town. But Eliseo is by his side, reminding me his brother is always watching over him, pressing its large head against his flank when Luigi is afraid to fail; he manages to find an inner strenght he didn't realise he possessed, acting braver and stronger than he is. Maybe because he can comfort himself with the idea that "they're not looking at me, but another person".

I don't know exactly how it happens, but at some point the jig is up (Koopas passing by and recognizing them ? A slip in their behavior? Someone connecting the dots?), but thankfully they have managed to recover enough, and gain allies and power ups, so they manage to get away and fix some issues of the kingdom in the meantime...

...but now they can't ever go back there because rumors have gone wild about the freaky conmen who are sharing dæmons.

"I heard one of them doesn't even have a dæmon..."

"Yes, it's because the other has TWO of them, and they share one to mask as normal people"

"I heard one of them is actually a dæmon himself, that's why he's never far from the other!"

"Don't be silly, dæmons don't talk, and they have been fighting hand to hand with a lot of troops!"

"Who says normal rules apply to them ? They're from another world, maybe dæmons don't work the same here ??"

#super mario bros #mario movie #mario movie spoilers #daemon au #miscellaneous mario madness

[mwolf0epsilon]

Of Hazardous Materials and the Irrelevance of Luck

Summary: Luck is a very thin wire between survival and disaster, and not many people can keep their balance on it. Olly has walked on that thin wire many times in the past, but somehow his good luck seems more of a curse than a blessing in disguise.

[Olly's medical trauma is always "fun" to explore, especially if it has to do with what Sulu Ra did to him. This idea stemmed from a conversation between a few people in regards to headcanon clone heights, the fact the gene therapy Olly was subjected to altered his body substantially, and what would happen if he underwent further tampering with.]

Rhythm and Red Alert are @lost-on-kamino 's clone ocs. Nocte is @purgetrooperfox 's clone oc.

THIS STORY IS NOW ON AO3

---

The annoying part about all of this, is that the cot Olly is laying on creaks loudly beneath him anytime he moves. And not in that subtle whispering manner that most medical cots will do after losing their newness to a handful of patients. Rather, it practically groans in a fashion similar to that of the dying squeals of a battered and frightened hog. Desperate and begging for both relief and to be spared.

A great majority of the Coruscant Guard's medbay gear is rather old and worn out (from cots and heavy machinery, to cabinets barely clinging to the walls they were affixed to).

The equipment they "own" is older than them by two decades. Salvaged from medical facilities that had undergone extensive refurbishing in the last couple of years, during expensive and flashy electoral campaigns that promised to bring change to the underbelly of Coruscant. The kind of gum flapping that evaded memory after the elections were done and dealt with.

Its scuffed and scratched, chipping and creaky, held together by duct tape and whatever materials they can cook up into makeshift caulk in the supply closet. The same one that holds the Guard's distillery where they make their own home-brewed rotgut.

The Coruscant Guard works with what it has at hand.

Be it the many derelict and long-abandoned buildings that had been repurposed into the various barracks dotted across the many layered levels of the city planet; the recovery of junked crockery with which they could create culinary concoctions they had taught themselves to make, whenever rations were cut to lesser portions and the acquisition of ingredients presented itself as opportune; or even the various means by which many of the Guardsmen had turned to to make a quick credit, for the purpose of buying medication to supply their medbay with.

They are in a sense, self sufficient. Vode in a fixer-upper stationing. The lowest of the low in the eyes of others. Survivors without praise.

Olly grunts as he tries to get comfortable on the too stiff medical cot. The sounds it makes when he so much as shifts his weight onto his side, makes him think it might finally give up the ghost and just crumple into a heap. It doesn't, of course, but the creaking is a loud and irritating backdrop to his current predicament.

A couple of days ago a squad of riot troopers that he had been leading, had ended up caught in a warehouse collapse during what should have been a routine mission. The warehouse in question had been used as a base of operations for some wannabe homegrown bio-terrorist, and the number of unknown chemicals and agents that had been spilled and disturbed during the collapse was certainly worrying. Especially when the boys in haz-suits came out to dig him and his troopers out of the debris.

The most spectacular part was that, for once, there were no casualties to report.

The entire squad had lived through the collapse, which was an unprecedentedly lucky occurrence that somehow hadn't sat well with Olly in the slightest.

He should be glad that none of the young turtles he'd been helping coordinate had gotten seriously hurt or killed. But something deep down in his very core just told him to be wary. Even if he didn't quite understand why.

Well, it had turned out that he was right to be suspicious of the bout of good fortune...

The Guard medics had their hands full with whatever this turned out to be. This unknown ailment without a rhyme or reason to it.

Olly wasn't super close to any of them (he was still learning the names of most of them anyway). And, even if Rhythm had managed to get him to go to the medbay for his PT sessions with Remedy, he wasn't entirely familiar with the medical personnel and their usual demeanor.

Even so, he could tell his fellow vode in red weren't taking this too well. And not without good reason.

Some rather strange symptoms had cropped up a couple of days after the warehouse collapse the turtle squad had been caught in. Symptoms that Olly had initially ignored because they weren't too dissimilar from his usual aches and pains he already endured on a regular basis.

A rather persistent throbbing feeling in the legs (more specifically on the front of the thighs, the calves and behind the knees). Abdominal pain that surged like a stomach ache or heartburn. Headaches and migraines that made resting an agony. Toothaches that made eating difficult. And sometimes inner-ear pain that affected his balance to the point he couldn't really get up without the threat of falling over.

None of that compared to the back pain, but it compounded the effects it had on his mood. How disagreeable he could get if he wasn't entirely 100%. Olly was often lucky that these aches and pains often struck him in the late afternoon or early evening, and that they subsequently disappeared by morning. But sometimes there were bad days where it just wouldn't go away...

So imagine his surprise (and horror) when his squad began to complain of similar instances of his condition. Something had most definitely gone wrong.

Of course, as procedure mandated, Olly and the others had been thoroughly scrubbed and hosed down after rescue, and then quarantined for a period of 48 hours while under observation. Just in case the chemicals they'd been exposed to, turned out to be more than just base components for whatever the nutjob they'd sent to prison had been cooking up in there.

As a general rule of thumb, you didn't take chances with bio-terrorism and bio-hazardous materials. Good troopers either followed the correct protocol, or they suffered the consequences of their bullheadedness accordingly.

In this case however, they had indeed followed the protocol to a T and somehow they still ended up in a bad way. Nothing major had cropped up in the first, second and third day, so they had just assumed everyone was in good health. No one had considered the possibility of it being a sickness of a latent nature...

Remedy and Nocte were trying everything in their power to figure out just what exactly was causing their bizarre symptoms. Trying to single out what sort of strange strain of bacteria, virus, compound or whatever, might be behind the alterations in their bodies, in the hopes that maybe it could be stopped and reversed.

They were a two man team, but also the only medics that could honestly be spared right now. The other medics would have to focus on the influx of troopers that always ended up in their care during the dreaded Coruscanti flu season.

Thus far the only promising results came from the blood tests that had been run on every single trooper showing visible symptoms of the mystery ailment. It didn't look good. Or at least not for the rest of Olly's squad...

"I'm not exactly sure how, but whatever it is that you all were exposed to back in the warehouse, is reacting differently inside of you..." Nocte confessed as he showed Olly the datapad he'd been carrying with him. "The others show the same abnormal levels of HGH. That's to say, all of your pituitary glands are being forced to produce growth hormones at an elevated rate, which is causing unusual growth in the others... But not in your case."

Olly swallowed thickly around the lump forming in his throat as he processed this information. The terms were ones he was intimately familiar with from his time sequestered in Sulu Ra's private laboratory. The most layman way to say it being that he was under-growing another bout of growth spurts. Almost in the same manner as when he'd been put through the gene therapy that had ended up causing him so much hassle on a daily basis.

Only this time he wasn't strapped to some medical table and being injected with liquid fire, while the mad cloner of Kamino watched on in fascination. And this time he wasn't the only one. He was just the guy that had already experienced something similar (and as such had a better chance to survive it that everyone else).

"The others?" He opted to ask, finding to his dissatisfaction that he sounded weak and scared. He was usually good at hiding what he was feeling, but right now he couldn't really bring himself to be anything but pathetically afraid.

Nocte's frown said it all before he even responded.

"Remedy and I are... Trying to keep them comfortable..." The sadness in the medic's eyes bothered Olly enough that he couldn't help look away. "Your body is reacting almost positively to the hormonal imbalance. You're aching all over, have an appetite on you, and have been a little less amicable than usual... Which is honestly what one would expect of someone going through a second puberty of sorts..."

Nocte paused to massage the back of his own neck and to shift his weight from one leg to the other. He seemed to be trying his best to keep things relatively under control, but he seemed to be struggling with finding words that didn't feel overly clinical and impersonal.

The medics could often distance themselves from the patients when they were working. But this was one of those cases where the impartial act really didn't cut it. Vode were dying, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

"The others are... It's not an even growth for them. It's reacting more like... Like a very aggressive cancer..." He didn't seem happy to use that word, but it was the closest he could probably find to match what he and Remedy had seen in the others. "Their entire bodies are getting covered in tumorous growths. Inside and out... And it's... It's painful for them, and they're not very likely to survive."

His squad wasn't going to make it. They just didn't have the equipment or resources necessary to save them.

Olly closed his eyes and tried to keep his breathing under control.

"I'm really sorry Olly... I really wish I had a better answer to give you." Nocte sighed sadly, sounding just as defeated as the large riot trooper himself felt. "Remedy isn't too happy about just letting them go either. But at this point trying to reduce their pain is the best we can do..."

So long as the boys weren't in pain... That was all he could really ask from the medics.

"And we'll also be keeping you under observation for a little while longer." Nocte added. "Even if you're not mutating out of control like they are, you could still deteriorate if we're not careful..."

The cot creaked loudly as he turned so that his back would face the medic. The sound didn't bother him as much as the awful truth he'd just heard. It was still very annoying however, but it hopefully got the message across.

He wanted to be left alone. Just for a little while.

-

"You should get fitted for Phase II armour." Rhythm suggested as he stood on a chair, measuring tape in hand while he balanced himself on his very tippy toes.

It had been a week since he'd been confined to the medbay, and a day since he'd finally been allowed to return to the barracks.

It was a hollow feeling, as he noted the empty space his squad used to occupy. They had all passed away peacefully in their sleep thanks to the combined efforts of the medics. But the reason behind their passing still left him feeling angry and disgusted.

He'd been lucky. He hated being lucky.

He also hated having to be measured to have his gear readjusted to properly fit his frame. A frame that was no longer within average human parameters.

"8'3"... Damn..." Red Alert whistled as he stared at the tape in astonishment. He had the decency to look apologetic when he got a glare for his troubles.

"We're going to need to get you a bigger mattress..." Rhythm scratched his chin as he looked around the barracks for where they could even put a new mattress to begin with. Was probably already considering all the scavenge spots from where they usually got their "furniture" from.

"We're gonna need to get him a bigger everything." Red Alert shook his head. "Armour, baton, shield..."

Olly moved away from the two of them without so much as a word. He didn't want to be a part of this conversation. Not right now. He was too tired to get angry with his two oblivious friends.

All of this was just... It was too much.

Sitting on his old bunk (having to hunch down noticeably so that his head and shoulders weren't pressed against the bottom of the top bunk ), Olly buried his face in his hands and groaned.

He hated all of this so very much.

"Olly...?" Rhythm had, predictably, followed him.

He closed his eyes tightly and groaned into his hands again, this time gritting his teeth as he did so. He didn't want to talk.

"Is it ok if I touch your arm?"

He shook his head 'no'. He did NOT want to be touched right now.

"Do you need space?"

He shook his head 'yes'.

"Do you... Want us to leave?"

There was a minute pause as he considered this. Finally, Olly shook his head 'no' once more. He didn't want to be touched, and he wanted a little space. But he didn't want to be alone. Not really.

He was scared.

"Ok... We'll just sit here with you for a while ok?" Rhythm asked softly, in that way he always did whenever he was trying to reassure someone. "And then, when you feel a little better, we can go back to sorting out your gear, alright?"

He nodded in agreement. That sounded fine by him.

-

"Looking good Olly! Phase II is very becoming of you." Rhythm grinned at the sight of the new armour Olly was currently trying out. He ignored his Guard vod's antics, noting how some of the pieces still needed to be fitted to his specific body type.

"The Phase I armour was perfectly fine..." He grumbled as he jotted down a few notes to send to the armoury crew. He also requested some paint while he was at it.

"It's outdated." Rhythm pointed out. "Your old one had charm and reliability yeah, but I'm sure this new one's going to serve you just as well."

"Hm..." The new shield would do that, no doubt. He quite liked the heftiness of it, but would miss the history he'd had with the old one. Each deep scratch had told its own story. Stories which he could use to teach the newbies how things worked around Coruscant.

But Fox hadn't been content with just refitting his old gear to accommodate his growth. And the riot trooper suspected Rhythm, Remedy and Nocte had had a hand in requesting him an upgrade. They worried too much.

"You should try being a little bolder with the painjob this time." Rhythm offered. "Not that writing your name on it wasn't bold..."

"I really shouldn't be taking painting advice from a vod who put volume sliders on his own armour, only to then nearly deafen himself by playing loud music all day..." Olly pointed out. "Remedy is still mad about that, last I heard."

"Nah..." Rhythm grins. "Water under the bridge! And hey my paint is very stylish, I'll have you know! Some would say my volume sliders are very fashionable and fun, even!"

"The DJ community is not known for having sensible taste in fashion..."

"You wound me..."

Olly rolled his eyes and continued to inspect himself in the much too short mirror. He might be able to make this work, despite the slight inconvenience his new height offered him.

Whatever the case, he'd be more wary in the future. There were only so many times he could be "lucky" until his "good luck" finally ran out.

Hopefully the next time wouldn't be so tragic.

#Eps Writes #star wars #the clone wars #clone ocs #riot trooper olly olly oxenfree #riot trooper red alert #communications corrie rhythm #clone medic nocte #remedy gets mentioned a bunch but he doesn't actually show up #also yes olly is now canonically 8'3" and he hates it

[separatist-apologist]

Saw an ask of yours about your feelings on Bryce (spot on btw) and it seemed like you had some thoughts on Aelin as well? I'm so curious what you think of her, but feel free to ignore this if you think it'll cause drama for you ❤️

I've been ignoring my asks all week, I feel so bad.

I actually don't have a huge problem with Aelin like I do with Bryce. Aelin is the typical SJM heroine/hero. She skews solidly towards the middle in terms of morals, is so secretive you have to wonder why she bothers to have friends at all, and is deeply judgmental of everyone around her because the narrative wants the heroine to be the standard of goodness even when her actions are ugly.

So like, when Aelin decides she's going to self-sacrifice and Lysandra will pretend to be her and have children with Aedion but pass them off as Rowans. That's a conversation she ought to have included Aedion and Rowan in but she doesn't, because it's insane both narratively and just...practically. And when Rowan and Aedion are pissed- ESPECIALLY Aedion who rightfully feels used and reacts angrily, the narrative and the fans frame his reaction as an extreme overreaction. Aelin decided and Aelin is the arbiter of what is right/wrong.

This isn't really a problem with Aelin but a larger issue with SJM and how she writes. She creates worlds with rules but bends them to suit her protags because she doesn't want let them truly be flawed or messy. Feyre and Rhys are villains to a lot of Prythian and the story would be more interesting if SJM let people just hate them according to her rules that she put in her story. Same with Aelin and same with Bryce.

Unlike pick-me-not-like-other-girls-just-one-of-the-guys Bryce, Aelin at least is allowed to grow and move. Lysandra and Aelin are always pitted against each other and Aelin doesn't like her until she realizes Lysandra was abused just like her and they hate each other for no good reason. She has internalized a lot of her own failures and learns how to forgive herself for things outside of her control.

I also think SJM is just...too busy telling us Aelin is the best when the narrative suggests Aelin is only okay. She's not a great assassin. Like just full stop Aelin is brash and flashy and always causing loud problems that get her and the people around her hurt. SJM should have just made her a regular assassin who is also a teenager. That would have still been a really good story. Making her THE BEST makes me wonder what kind of shit show everyone else is. Like is it just a certificate they hand out after a self-paced 1 hour course online? Who is the arbiter of best assassin ever?

#anyway im pretty okay about aelin #its rowan im like #stay away from her #that girl is a CHILD #i know shes an adult technically #but he was such an asshole in his first appearances that i have always side eyed him #do i forgive? #i guess #did i forget? #no #i did see a really hot fan art of him that made me like him a little though #if you were wondering how im picking favrs

[dearestones]

Death Note Matchup: L Lawliet #2

Warnings: Fluff. 

Anonymous Request: Hi, I love your blog! If you still do matchups, may I request one?

(Death note, romantic, male character).

I am an asexual gay man. Mostly I wear business casual or relaxed minimalist clothes, I have soft shoulder-length hair that I usually wear in a low pony, tired brown eyes and quite a lot of scars. Also, I'm very flexible.

My main goal is to become a doctor, and I am very fascinated by medicine. However, I have a lot of interests beyond my main field of study: I like psychology, philosophy, mathematics, digital painting, academic drawing and reading.

My greatest strengths are my intelligence, rationality, creativity and the ability to think before acting. But I'm also aloof, a bit arrogant, not very social and need outside motivation to stay disciplined (otherwise, I tend to lose focus).

However, if I do form a meaningful relationship, I do not take it lightly. My love language is giving advice, talking for hours and cuddling. I'm a very tactile person!

I am used to communicating directly and respecting others boundaries, and expect the same from my partner. I also look for someone who is ambitious like me.

I have a severe mental illness, so I need a partner who is not creeped out by it and can treat hospital visits and relapses as a part of everyday life.

Thank you, have a wonderful day! :)

.

.

.

After going through the information given, I believe that you best pair well with L Lawliet!

Even if L doesn’t put too much stock into his own appearance, he finds himself appreciative of your style when he first meets you. You see, you’ll never find L in many other outfits than the one he usually wears. Not only does he do so because of practical reasons, but because he can’t stand being in too restrictive or too bold clothes. It’s a sensory thing and L isn’t keen on changing his style. To see you wear clothing that isn’t too flashy (albeit, with probably more fashion sense than him), is kind of cute. That, and he’ll know that you aren’t too high maintenance for him.

Physical touch is not one of L’s greatest strong suits. He would much rather pick apart your brain on most days, but there are times when he sees your soft hair and wonders what it’s like to run his fingers through it. Knowing him, he would more than likely pinch a lock or two between his thumb and forefinger, but the point still stands: he likes your hair. As for your other physical attributes, he finds himself concerned when he sees your eyes. Have you been sleeping enough? You should change up your schedule or relax more. Lack of sleep contributes to an unhealthy lifestyle. Lastly, your scars? L doesn’t care about what they look like or how many you have. He’s a detective, he can deduce why you got them and for how long. Someday, he’ll ask about them, but for now, he won’t judge you for your looks. 

A doctor is a noble profession, which is something that L can’t say the same for himself. He’ll support you in your studies, be it through stimulating discussions regarding whatever topics you’re studying to keep the information fresh or if you need any financial assistance. If he suspects that you’re working yourself too hard, he’ll suggest that you take a short break and drink tea and eat cake with him, but he won’t force you since becoming a doctor is so important to you.

While L is not as proficient in the medical profession as most other people, he can go toe to toe with you concerning the other subjects that you think are particularly interesting; most notably, he’ll want to engage in conversation about psychology, philosophy, and mathematics. If you’re not careful, he’ll open any conversation about the theories of personality, certain traits about mental disorders and illnesses in regards to one of his newest cases, or even make allusions to nihilism. Humor him. He’s not too great with social interactions in general (he often takes a blunt approach), so don’t think he’s being impersonal if most of his talking points are about his job or yours. He just wants to bond with you in one of the few ways he knows how. 

Another thing that draws L to you is your personality characteristics. He’s a firm believer in substance over style, so when he sees that you can be quite as analytical as him, he’s gratified and excited to get to know you better. Whenever he informs you about a case, it’s because he values your judgment and your perspective can be just as intriguing as solving one of his many cases. 

As a detective that has long since been acquainted with the worst that humanity has to offer, he can confidently say that he won’t bat an eye when he discovers your faults. Really, to err is to be human and isn’t that a beautiful thing? As far as he’s concerned, your flaws make you unique and make you all the more intriguing. Arrogance can be tempered and one can always practice socialization to better themselves. As for discipline, he can help you if you ask for it. All in all, as long as you aren’t breaking any laws, then you’re more than fine. 

While L appreciates that the relationship the two of you have holds a lot of sentimental value, he can’t quite say the same. Oh, he’s appreciative of you and wants to see you strive for success and the betterment of yourself, but for romantic implications? He’s not a man of feelings, but of rationality. In addition, L would rather listen to you talk for hours concerning whatever is on your mind. However, again, he’s not a tactical person, so the two of you might butt heads if a misunderstanding between balancing both of your needs ever arises. 

L will commend you for direct nature and willingness to compromise. His boundaries are there for a reason and he’s thankful that he has a partner like you that understands the importance of that. Honestly, the talk concerning how the both of you could function in this relationship is probably the most honest he’s ever been with a person who isn’t Watari.

Don’t worry if you ever feel self-conscious about your mental illness and the impending hospital visits. L grew up in a rocky environment and he receives constant reports from the orphanage that Watari runs. To say that he is ignorant of how important mental illness is does nothing but L a disservice. Because of his vocation, he’ll insist on paying any of your medical bills and providing you with the best doctors and medicines to help you get better. It’s okay if you relapse so long as you get back on your feet and try again. 

Remember, while L is far from the most romantic of men out there, his affection with you is shown through his actions. He can’t say for sure he loves you, but if you look close enough and read between the lines, you’ll see that what you have between the two of you is the closest he’ll ever get to feeling such an emotion. 

.

.

.

If you want to donate a Ko-Fi, feel free https://ko-fi.com/devintrinidad.

DEATH NOTE MASTERLIST

#death note #dn #death note l #dn l #l lawliet #death note l lawliet #dn l lawliet #l lawliet matchup #death note matchup #dn matchup #l matchup #matchup #matchups #character matchup #dearestones #devintrinidad

[muselexum]

@indomiitas​ sent:

His own wardrobe was practically overflowing with flashy outfits for all kinds of occasions, but Mihawk had insisted he try out something else for once, and the bastard could certainly be persuasive when he wanted to be.

“Ehhh. I‘m still not sure about this,“ Buggy grumbled as he was motioned to turn around, the other man stalking around him like a bird of prey as he evaluated the outfit. He could appreciate fine fabrics, the soft silk from West Blue and the cashmeres imported from Paradise. The flowy shirt falling over his exposed torso was fine with him. The feathered hat, too. What was bothering him, however, were the awfully tight leather pants that snugly hugged just about… everything.

Mihawk believed that making oneself look presentable and beyond that, pleasing to the eyes, was a valuable skill that was often overlooked by those with a piracy career. They thought that because they lived outside the law and society, for some reason it exempted them from having to have any fashion sense or class as well. Mihawk didn’t mind this in general of course. How others chose to present themselves didn’t matter much to him and he was well aware that looks weren’t everything. It didn’t change the fact that Mihawk enjoyed taking care of himself and he enjoyed surrounding himself with people that had similar tastes and sentiments. If he were to continue having Buggy around, he couldn’t help but at least attempt to intervene on what he saw as an atrocious fashion disaster.

Buggy was an interesting case. The man certainly enjoyed attention and being seen, but in his quest to do so he seemed to favour fashion that was more on the end of ridiculous. If Buggy just wanted attention for attention's sake then so be it, but Mihawk felt that Buggy had never tried going about things a different route. Intrigue, respect, and awe were all ways to grab attention and retain it for far longer than just getting in someone’s face and assaulting their senses with a random assortment of patterns and designs. The more Mihawk observed Buggy, the more his behaviours seemed like those of a child willing to act out even if it meant the only attention they’d receive was negative.

The clothing Mihawk had selected for him emanated luxury, along with a bit of that flashiness that Buggy so desired. The frilled-collared white button down was layered with a patterned silk vest, and the leather pants and boots offered an edginess to the overall look. The cavalier hat was both eye-catching and refined. Yes, Mihawk found himself pleased as he observed his handiwork.

“Do you distrust my judgement?” He said as he approached Buggy from behind, looking at him through the mirror in front of them. Mihawk was instilling Buggy with valuable knowledge here, if anything he should be grateful. He placed his hands on Buggy’s waist, sliding them up his sides as he spoke, “Broad shoulders narrowing down to a refined waist is the timeless silhouette of a well put together man. It will always look good, even on you.” The comment while harsh was not spoken with any of Mihawk’s typical coldness. If one was able to spot the small differences in his speech and expression, it’d be obvious that he was only prodding for amusement’s sake.

His hands slid down once more, this time moving past Buggy’s waistline to run over the tight leather fabric of his pants and gripping at his hips. A teasing smirk tugged at Mihawk’s lip as he leaned down to leave a quiet comment by Buggy’s ear, “If you insist we find you a larger size then I will not object, however I think this one suits you just fine.” 

#i am so normal about this #indomiitas #INDOMIITAS ( buggy. ) #FOR ALL ( answered. ) #MIHAWK ( general tag. ) #MIHAWK ( rp. ) #SHIP ( takabara. )

[kokomeong]

Connections

Those who seek will never find, those who do not seek will be found. - Kafka

I wore my flashy dog-patterned socks in the UNESCO meeting, which made Ayaka initiate our first conversation. I wore my linen shirts all unironed in the Tobunken course and on the way back home me and Vasare started talking about her previous expertise in textile conservation before she suggested to me all the quirky places across Yanaka. In the ICADL conference, I wore my dumb ‘Oh’ amoeba character pin on the collar of my suit when Shigeo Sugimoto approached me first, called me by my name, and asked for my opinion about the content of his workshop that he knew I attended. I froze for a second not expecting him to remember me from the first time we met in Hanoi last year.

I just think that life is just too short to be other than what we are. You can just be the one that you are if you can’t be special - and that’s already something special. That’s life for most of us, and most of us aren’t special, and we just have to accept it.

For the thousandth time, I guess most of us have already heard and will hear more advice about the importance of ‘networking’. The significance of small talks, the essentials of soft skills, the fundamentals of displaying presentable appearances.

Back in college, there was a new lecturer whose expertise is ‘soft skills’. We were taught how to wear business attire, how to practice table manners, even how to walk ‘professionally’. I thought  I was studying Literature in the Arts Faculty which supposedly aimed to liberate our minds? Did they just send me back to the BK room in high school? I didn’t pay for this. I hate being told what I should wear unless you’re my late mom with her distinctive fashion taste. In fact, even she rarely told me what I had to wear. What is worse is being told what to wear by people with bad taste. Meh. One of the best universities in Indonesia and they allow a course which tells the student how they should walk and dress up? Really?

Teaching people how to communicate and dress professionally is necessary, but teaching people how they should explore the way of expressing themselves professionally that fits their personality is much more difficult I guess.

Some of us aren’t gifted in doing so-called networking, some of us even aren’t interested in networking. I don’t think there is anything bad or wrong or pretentious with putting so much effort in networking as well, but to some people it just feels inorganic and insincere, and that’s valid, as well. I just think that we should be aware that there are options. There is no one sure way toward success or whatever people think success is. What is outrageous to me is that after all these years of human civilizations we’re still stuck to these rules and conventions and refuse to acknowledge that there are other valid alternatives.

It feels more human to make a connection with any person without having to consider their professional significance. It is much more meaningful, yet also less frequent, to meet people with the same interest and sincere motives of knowing each other regardless of our importance.

I think the healthy way to approach this kind of professional get-together is to not expect too much. You just come to present your research and enjoy the refreshments. Anything other than that should be a bonus, not a purpose.

I used to force myself to make an effort to approach people first and get something out of meeting people. This year, I followed the call to relax more during every meeting I attended. I did not expect nor pursue any discussion, or any encounter. I let things happen organically and the way they are meant to be. To be able to attend a conference is already a nice paid-for getaway and I am grateful for it. I no longer worry if I come back from the meeting without any new connections or networks or whatever.

Still I overthink and experience anxieties a lot, but I try to just enjoy the ride and do whatever I want or am comfortable with. The more you age, the more you think that life is just too short to please people, to do things based on certain unspoken/unwritten ideas of what is considered to be acceptable, or simply to not wear clothes we want to even though some people might think it cringe or makes us look less ‘important’.

The other day I watched some interviews of a popular band that I don’t particularly enjoy, but they made me realize of two points which I think are remarkable in making connections or perhaps in making it, in general: that some things are just meant to be and that acceptance and momentum are not something that we can plan or make happen.

We should really all come to a point in which we realize that very few things are within our control. The sooner we realize this the better we can grow and accept and treat things with grace. 

#hidup di kota #friend

[gsmattingly]

Review "Toni Erdmann"

(08/04/2021) I watched "Toni Erdmann" directed by Maren Ade. This is a rather strange father daughter movie, a hard-working serious daughter who doesn't have much time any more for her father and a playful and odd father who thinks that maybe a little time should be taken out of the hard work to create moments that are special, that are memories. I enjoyed this film but it does have some seriously odd moments, somewhere between amusing and embarrassing. Okay, some are simply embarrassing.

This is a summary from imdb: "Winfried doesn't see much of his working daughter Ines. He pays her a surprise visit in Bucharest, where she's busy as a corporate strategist. The geographical change doesn't help them to see more eye to eye. Practical joker Winfried annoys his daughter with corny pranks and jabs at her routine lifestyle of meetings and paperwork. Father and daughter reach an impasse, and Winfried agrees to go home to Germany. Enter Toni Erdmann: Winfried's flashy alter ego. Disguised in a tacky suit, weird wig and fake teeth, Toni barges into Ines' work circle, claiming to be her CEO's life coach. As Toni, Winfried doesn't hold back, and Ines meets the challenge. The harder they push, the closer they become. In all the madness, Ines begins to see that her eccentric father deserves a place in her life.—Official site"

#films

[sabuleum]

emké being a complete dweeb about weapons is my favorite ‘cute’, fun little characteristic to highlight in a lot of early threads. one of the few things they openly express interest and excitement in, and a general facet they feel passionate about— people having the right weapon for them, and having a quality piece of work in hand. but as with everything, this hints at a lot of deeper notes in her character: 

the respect and love she has for her father, who taught her the craft as a child. a reflection of his values, and how he invested care and detail into every build. Pyhrros worked exclusively on request / commission, because he believed in tailoring whatever he was smithing to fit the wielder. 

it didn’t always have to be fancy and ornate– in fact they were often unassuming in appearance, based on his clientele– but it had to fit them. the handle should sit right in their palm, the weight should suit their wield; their father made a lot of friends, in time, because coming to know someone and understand how they intended to use what he made was an essential part of Pyhrros’ process.

now, this doesn’t mean that either father or child begrudge a display piece here-and-there. sometimes a smith just wants to flex their artistic talents and make something overly-indulgent for the sake of— but they do wrinkle their nose a bit to see someone using something so flashy and pointlessly adorned for any practical applications. gold filigree and gemstones aren’t going to make a better swordsman in the heat of battle, and too often function is overlooked for form. it’s possible to strike a balance between artistry and performance, but it’s easy to tell when that wasn’t the forger’s concern.

#details. #isms. #about. #worldbuilding.