#...and interesting!! is trying to decipher who is lying and why the world they live in makes them have to lie to survive

[minakoaiinos]

Animating this season like you can't have the slightest bit of jest and god forbid jesting about yaoi

[yssjj]

american psycho: he's just like me fr

In No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai, there’s a passage where the main character, Yozo, who is ostensibly Dazai (it is a semi-autobiographical book), struggles to figure out exactly what the hell his Sister wants from him in a fairly obvious situation:

“One autumn evening as I was lying in bed reading a book, the older of my cousins–I always called her Sister–suddenly darted into my room quick as a bird, and collapsed over my bed. She whispered through her tears, “Yozo, you’ll help me, I know. I know you will. Let’s run away from this terrible house together. Oh, help me, please.” She continued in this hysterical vein for a while only to burst into tears again. This was not the first time that a woman had put on such a scene before me, and Sister’s excessively emotional words did not surprise me much. I felt instead a certain boredom at their banality and emptiness. I slipped out of bed, went to my desk and picked up a persimmon. I peeled it and offered my Sister a section. She ate it, still sobbing, and said, “Have you any interesting books? Lend me something.” I chose Soseki’s I am a Cat from my bookshelf and handed it to her. “Thanks for the persimmon,” Sister said as she left the room, an embarrassed smile on her face…”

At this moment, Dazai/Yozo provides an accidentally hilarious moment through his lack of empathy. Even though Yozo faces similar despair, he is unable to connect sadness to the sadness of others. After several trials of this sort of situation where a girl comes to him crying for support (which despite his wishes is a recurring theme in his life), he has figured out a simple, effective solution—distract them with sweets, books, anything at hand, even a suicide pact.

Of course, this isn’t the correct “answer” to these situations. He could have just… talked to her! But this is impossible for Yozo because claims to be completely disconnected from her. And he’s too terrified to try to reach out. He imagines that all other people have a monster behind their mask, ready to attack him at will.

The entire book is like this, a person who doesn’t know how to interact with other people because he is actually terrified of everyone around him, which is all rooted in his feeling of spiritual isolation. The title is a direct statement of the narrator’s feeling towards the world around him—as someone who is just faking being human, what point did he have in existing when he has to live in fear of everyone around him, who is ostensibly better at this being “human” thing than him?

American Psycho was this to me, an attempt by another alien (Patrick Bateman) to decipher exactly what the hell is happening in 80’s yuppie corporate NYC. Or as he aptly puts it:

EVELYN  Well, you hate that job anyway. Why don't you just quit? You don't have to work. BATEMAN  Because I...want...to...fit...in. I think he wants to fit in!

Patrick Bateman has decided, unlike Yozo, that he will fit in. He—at least, consciously—believes that he is stronger than everyone around him. Christian Bale does an awesome job monologuing with the emphasis on monotone, dry, and powerful from his ability to seemingly separate himself from the riff-raff around him. This might be why a lot of men (from what I have heard, no citation given in this article) take from this movie that this is the way of a “sigma” male, one who is different from the rest of the pack.

(This is where I would submit my sigma male test score but I couldn’t find the screenshot.)

fear and anxiety

Because of all the (wrong) takes on American Psycho being anti-feminist because of its violence against women, or the idolization of Patrick Bateman because he can cull his competition, you would think Patrick is good at killing people. This is not true in the movie. Patrick Bateman is actually very, very bad at killing people. When he kills Paul Allen, he becomes a total wreck, running through his apartment to come up with some sort of alibi, slamming open closets and desperately packing together a cute little travel set. Not that I would know how to commit a murder, but you would think for someone who considers himself to be in control Patrick would have a better idea on how to proceed with this kind of thing. His answers to Detective Donald Kimball’s questions range from guilty to insane. When Detective Kimball asks him if he knew Paul Allen was missing, Patrick jumps to asking him if the “homicide squad” is deployed on the case.

He even panics out of a murder when Luis Carruthers hits on him because it’s so unexpected, ending with Patrick desperately looking for any reason to just leave (“I’ve gotta… I’ve gotta… return some videotapes.”—as a bonus, he uses this SEVERAL times in the movie to leave uncomfortable situations). He then washes his gloved hands in the bathroom in an attempt to try to return to a “normal” interaction. It’s not pride and power pushing him forward. It’s anxiety!

Like Yozo, Patrick is also afraid. When he lies to Jean that he got a reservation for two at Dorsia (his trigger word apparently), he decides that the only course of action is to kill Jean before they make it to the restaurant. To directly discuss the traditional idea of toxic masculinity (as referenced by the men who want to be Patrick), theory would say that Patrick kills to gain power over women or to flex his masculinity. But his pride isn’t on the line when he tells Jean that he got a reservation to Dorsia. And he’s not trying to be powerful and masculine when he decides that killing Jean is the only solution. His decision is a panicked answer to stay disconnected from Jean at any cost.

Just as Yozo accepts a suicide pact from a woman because he doesn’t know how else to comfort her while avoiding connection to her, Patrick decides with how smoothly he handled Paul Owen’s murder that staging another murder is a get-out-of-jail-free card from the impending doom of having to admit that he actually can’t get a reservation for Dorsia.

And his Dorsia fear manifests in reality as a personal hell when the maître d’ hysterically laughs at him, screeching, when he first calls for a reservation that night at 8:30 for a date with Courtney. The second time he calls he gets a normal response, with the maître d’ telling him that the restaurant is completely booked for the night. But Patrick’s fear response is already baked in from the first interaction he created with his own anxiety.

societal normalcy and self-acceptance

There’s something deeply relatable to the need to try to figure out what is “normal.” Especially, the further you might naturally be from “societal normal,” the harder it is to try to figure out how to get there. At this point, the proverb “be true to yourself” might seem to come into play. But our urge to be normal is because we want to connect to others. We want to not be alone, even if that’s at the cost of suppressing our true selves.

Patrick manages to fit in at the boy’s club at work by performing all of the gestures of the others, at lunch, at Christmas parties. But his true self is completely isolated from his coworkers. He’s someone who is unrecognized as his own person to the point that people mistake his identity for others in the group. His fiance knows nothing about him and doesn’t care to, even when Patrick is trying to tell her that he has homicidal urges. The only reason she’s even getting married to him is because they have the same friends and breaking up “wouldn’t work.” Even Carruthers only hits on him because of the clothing he wears.

But even when you fit in, you want people to understand you. So Patrick tries to connect with people over and over again. But when he does try,  it’s unreciprocated. The only time he can talk about his interest in pop music is with prostitutes he hires for sex—almost as if the sex is just an excuse (which might be why his violence is also focused on them). His jokes constantly fall flat with his peers. His joke about Ed Gein sticking women’s heads on sticks could be inappropriate (and is given the rest of the context of Patrick’s personality), but it’s a very vulnerable moment for Patrick. He is purposefully revealing part of who he is and receives worse than a bad reaction—no reaction. When your friends rebuke you, it’s a decision to reach out and connect out of care. No reaction is the choice to pull away.

And when he finally does meet someone who is genuinely interested in him as who he is and is willing to reach out to him, he is unable to complete the connection. Jean is the only woman in the movie who isn’t willing to mask to just “fit in.” When Patrick takes her out and talks to her in his condo, we can immediately get a sense of who she is because she’s telling the truth. But Patrick takes this vulnerability and tries to push it away from him—thus the attempt to kill her with a nail gun—and fails as his own vulnerability (he’s cheating on his fiancee) is revealed via inopportune phone call (from said fiancee).

Silence. Jean is obviously embarrassed and upset. JEAN  Was that...Evelyn? Silence. JEAN  Are you still seeing her? Silence. JEAN  I'm sorry, I have no right to ask that. Silence. JEAN  Do you want me to go? A long pause. BATEMAN  Yes. I don’t think I can...control myself. JEAN  I know I should go. I know I have a tendency to get  involved with unavailable men, and...I mean, do you  want me to go? Another long pause. BATEMAN  If you stay, I think something bad will happen. I  think I might hurt you.  (Almost hopefully)  You don't want to get hurt, do you? JEAN  No. No, I guess not. I don't want to get bruised.  You're right, I should go.

And at the end of the movie, Jean is the only one who is able to find Patrick’s “true nature” because she is worried about him after he calls her. Patrick doesn’t reveal who he is to her. She’s the one who searches his desk and finds the drawings he has made of his compulsions, of his real or imagined crimes against humanity.

violence

After violence, Patrick responds with desperation and panic. We even see this in Paul Allen’s murder, the one murder Patrick seemed to really enjoy, where Patrick scrambles to come up with something so that he avoids getting caught. Patrick claims to have killed Christie only because “she almost got away.” In the final chase scene, the consequences come for him at an amazing tempo; police cars surround him after the sound of the first shot dissipates into the air, he escapes but is surrounded again and forced into a shoot-off, then is chased down by helicopters.

But that’s ridiculous—it’s totally fantastical. Because these scenes are in Patrick’s view of reality, it suggests that he wants to get caught. Patrick wants to be held accountable because it’s the only way he could imagine others understanding the immense amount of pain he’s in.

Part of our connection to people who really like us for who we are is that they can help us understand when we feel off. We want our pain to be vindicated as something that’s not okay. In times of desperation, we want to be able to reach out to others and hear sympathy, or reassurance that we are right to feel that something is wrong and that we should go get it checked out.

Patrick describes his need to hurt other people as a consequence of being in pain in the first place at the end of the movie. It’s a call for help for someone to notice and get him arrested so he can get fixed. But Patrick is completely alienated. Beyond Jean, nobody else cares about him to bother being concerned. When he tells a woman that he’s into “murders and executions,” she mishears it as “mergers and acquisitions” due to the level of attention she’s giving that conversation. When he leaves a long, rambling confession of all of his murders to his lawyer, his lawyer first mistakes him for someone else, and then laughs it off as a silly joke. Even as Patrick tries to double down and tell him that he was telling the truth, his lawyer takes the reality of the situation (that Patrick is at least delusional, since Paul Allen is alive and kicking) and decides to tell Patrick off for taking the joke “too far.”

In Patrick’s last monologue after his conversation with his lawyer, he “surpasses” having anything in common with the least sympathizable people.

BATEMAN (V.O.) There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with  the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil,  all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward  it, I have now surpassed... INT. BATEMAN'S OFFICE - DAY Jean is alone in Bateman's office, looking through his diary.  We see the pages that she is looking at. They are filled with  doodles of mutilated women and their names...Jean looks lost  and frightened, and begins to cry. BATEMAN (V.O.) My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better  world for anyone. I fact I want my pain to be inflicted on  others. I want no escape. INT. HARRY'S BAR - EARLY EVENING  As the film ends the camera moves CLOSE on Bateman. He is  leaning back in his leather armchair, drinking a double Scotch,  his eyes blank. BATEMAN (V.O.) But even after admitting this, there is no catharsis. I gain no  deeper knowledge about myself, no new knowledge can be extracted  from my telling. There has been no reason for me to tell you any  of this. This confession has meant nothing...

He knows that losing his connection with even the most insane people will mean his internal pain will find no catharsis. Nobody can reach him and soothe his pain. So he inflicts his pain on others, even though it doesn’t help his pain, because it’s better than not doing anything. All he has left are the drawings that Jean has discovered, his last call for help.

Pain will always exist. But connection makes us understand that our pain is human, even our pain seems to come out of us in terrifying ways. In this way, Mary Harron has created a feminist movie by simply letting guys have emotions. The consequence of allowing men to have feelings is that they want to find other people who truly understand them. Patrick and his coworkers simply “fit in” but they don’t belong to each other, to anything at all beyond a sheer facade, a mask that can be put on and peeled off at the end of each day.

Then maybe we can rework toxic masculinity from being a way to have power in social situations to wanting to just ��fit in” as a way to get some sort of connection to others, even if the people you hang out with don’t really understand you. But the consequence of this is that these shallow connections don’t fulfill us, and when we undergo pain, it becomes easier to take it out on these people that you don’t even like anyway, or people who aren’t even in your ingroup. When men see Patrick Bateman as a sigma male, is it that they see someone in control? Or is it that they see someone who shows a way to cope with the pain they feel, even if the method is violent and doesn’t even work, but at least it seems cathartic on the movie screen?

[blzzrdstryr]

Alone together

Yandere!Dainsleif x gn!reader

Wordcount: 2011

CW: Yandere themes, stalking, possessive behavior, PTSD

Khaenri’ah burns. Skies turn red, as tall pillars of smoke arise in the place of ruined towers. People cry and beg and scream.

“Ah, [First] , you came to help” Lisa greets you, waking up from her half-slumbering state: “Welcome, welcome. I already made some tea for you, just let me”. The librarian stretches and yawns akin to a cat, after she stands up from the counter, flashing you one of her charming smiles afterwards: “Go and fetch it. We will work after the tea”.

Something in her voice leaves no room for argument, so you sit at the offered table, eyes immediately shifting to the nearby window, mostly out of habit. Skies are blue and clear, buildings are whole and steady, people are laughing and cheering outside. It’s a sight that brings you heartache and comfort at the same time - no one should be subjected to what you had to live through, whether they worship the seven or not.

“And here it is”, the witch says, holding a tray with a steaming teapot, cups and a plate of cupcakes resting on top of it. The next fifteen minutes are spent drinking and carelessly chatting about everything and nothing in particular: Lisa is an excellent company, adept at maintaining the conversation interesting and atmosphere comfortable, her wide array of knowledge and keen intellect keeping you on your toes throughout the exchange despite the advantage of experience you happen to possess.

The brief tea party is then followed by the shared work of deciphering ancient documents, the librarian sometimes turns to you asking for the meaning of one word or another - most of the texts are written in Khaenri’ahn or archaic forms of the modern languages.

She doesn’t pry why you happen to possess such intrinsic knowledge on the long dead language, nor does she ask anything about your star-shaped pupils - she must have seen the descendants of your compatriots, then. You know there live at least two - one with tan skin and a warm smile that never reaches his cold eyes and a blonde youth with the powers of khemia rolling under his palms. There’s no courage to approach them.

You in turn share Khaenri’ah’s greatest legacy - knowledge and science that helped your nation to outpace the deities and turn them against you. It’s a nice feeling - making sure that the thing your people cherished the most will not be forgotten, even if it’s given to archon worshippers. Five centuries ago the thought of educating Teyvatians would be laughable to you - there’s no use in it, they will continue to believe in their gods - you would dismiss it, but now nationless you have no choice but to do it - it’s the only way to keep the products of your people alive. To keep the memory of your people alive.

Khaenri’ah burns. You run across the collapsing city, eyes growing wider as you see people slowly morphing into something. It’s bestial and feral, primitive. Your breath hitches, you want to scream.

“[First]?”, it’s Lisa again, she lightly taps your shoulder, a hint of concern creeps into her voice

“Ah? Everything is fine, I just zoned off” you reply, too quickly and too strained to be believable. Who could have known that even after five hundred years the flashbacks of what happened on that day will still haunt you? They trail your thoughts like determined hounds, sneaking up on you in the most inopportune times. One moment you are talking to someone, the second you relive the fall of Khaenri’ah. The memory feels too real to be a fantasy, leaving your thoughts messy, anxious and disordered, as you shake and try to calm yourself.

“Are you sure?”, she stands up from her seat and makes a couple of quick steps to you, taking a good look at your face: you must look horrible, you think, those episodes always leave you panting and on the verge of panic.

“Maybe we should continue tomorrow, there’s no use in haste, it’s not like our documents will run away”, Lisa continues, massaging circles into your shoulder - her hand is warm and comforting, grounding. You want to thank her for this - the understanding tone and the way she caresses you right now, helping you to keep the link with reality, but the words get stuck in your throat - it’s too much and too scary, to admit what just has happened not only to her, but to yourself too.

“Yes”, you finally force out of yourself, nodding along the way: “it would be for the better”. Your voice is still too tense and strained, filled with the grief for the people and places long past, but Lisa, to your relief, doesn’t point out any of it. You quickly gather your belongings and leave the library, almost forgetting to bid a farewell to the witch as you exit.

The sun begins to set as you make your way to the rented house, it’s small and nondescript, a complete opposite of the one you had in Liyue. You used to work as a scholar in the harbor before He found you again - you fled your spacious and cozy apartments in less than a day, leaving almost all of your possessions behind.

The thoughts of what had happened still buzz in your mind - you want to scream and cry, you want to vent to someone, but the words you will utter will be in pure khaenri’ahn they won’t understand you.

You think of finally approaching that star-eyed cavalry captain, Kaeya, maybe he saw what you witnessed too. You think of Albedo, who carries the same energy all khaenri’ahn constructs do. You want to ask him about his creator, you want to talk with him about Khemia. You think of Barbatos who wears the form of the cheerful bard, you want to accuse and scream and hit him.

You do nothing as the power leaves your body the same second - it’s scary, so scary to verbalize that, to talk and share and relive, and approaching any of those three means doing exactly so.

You stay inside instead, calming your beating heart and kicking out intrusive thoughts, and only when your pulse returns to the norm you allow yourself to finally stand up. The world is shaky and unreliable, but some things stay the same. Your room for example - you have a habit of leaving things in specific places, as a way to keep you grounded. There’s a comfort in familiarity - the one you desperately need.

Your eyes shift from one object to the other, until they stumble across something that sends your heart racing again. The cup you use is shifted by a couple of inches, facing you by the opposite side, there’s a flower and a note lying beside it. The words are in khaenri’ahn, the handwriting is familiar too.

Khaenri’ah burns. Your lungs do too from the sheer overexertion and fatigue, but you keep pushing further and further - you can’t give up yet, not when He needs you. A name forms on your lips.

Thousand of thoughts form in your mind, they’re panicked, fast and disjointed - flee again, cut and dye your hair, change the name too - you can start over in Inazuma again, it’s a closed country, so if you will manage to get in, it will be harder for him to track you again.

Who are you kidding?

Unlike you, he has a core of steel, an unwavering determination to settle things his way or die trying - be it opposing Celestia or gaining you. It was always like that, with the Twilight sword being stubborn to a fault - he never budged or surrendered, not when Khaenri’ah was still proudly standing, and not now, when there’s nothing but the charred remains of your homeland.

You met him when you got accepted into the Royal order, where a Konungr paired you with Him. The twilight sword was unrelenting in his pursuits even then, a trait that you both admired and feared in equal volume. The collapse of your nation only worsened this quality - if back then he was striving to supervise and oversee everything, then the tragedy exacerbated his controlling tendencies even further.

You were travelling together for the first fifty years after the fall, both affected by the same curse, as he started getting possessive. It began in innocuous things: asking where you were, what you were doing, you didn’t pay much attention back then, celestial wrath still fresh in your memory - he was just cautious you told yourself, it’s a safety measure.

But then these safety measures grew from simply inquiring about your day to accompanying you almost everywhere, and then it all culminated in Him locking you up, to keep you away from leaving.

You escaped then, and avoided him ever since, departing your residence the second you caught the wind of his possible proximity. Years turned into decades that later morphed into centuries, and you began to grow lax - he was getting closer and closer to you with each turn. The first time you had a suspicion of him being near you packed your things the same second and spent countless days traversing the land by hidden passageways, careful not to leave any traces, and now, now you still sit in your house, despite having evidence of him knowing where you are.

Maybe you grew tired of the cat and mouse game, maybe you just accepted that your recapture is inevitable and all your little escapes do nothing, but set it off for a couple of months, or maybe you’re just that lonely. It doesn’t matter, really, as you make no attempt to do anything - it’s useless, he already knows your location.

Khaenri’ah burns. You cry and you hate yourself - for weakness, for helplessness, for still being alive and sane. He stays near you as a silent shadow, his blue eyes shifting from your crying face to the wreckage of the city. There are no words shared between you that day - you’re crushed and empty, yet bare and aching at the same time.

“Dainsleif”, you greet him, once you hear the squeak of the opening door. He doesn’t look that different from five hundred years ago, but now his eyes are both more tired and alive with fervent light.

“[First]”, he simply replies, your name rolling off his tongue like a prayer - there’s adoration and worship in his tone. He almost falls to his knees, as he takes your hands in his, capturing them in a steel trap.

“[First], I finally have you, [first]”, he murmurs, bringing your palm to his face. You don’t resist him, knowing it’s futile. His skin feels just like all those years ago - rough and dry, weathered down by the demanding lifestyle he leads. He gives a shy peck to your inner wrist, blue eyes intently watching you as he does so.

“Long time no see, Dain”, you start, trying to diffuse the tension in the air, as he grabs you by the chin and forces you into a kiss. He kisses with the desperation of a dying person, one of his hands firmly holding your head, the other starts to explore your body. It feels obscene. You are lightheaded, when he finally parts and hugs you again, still chanting “[First]” over and over again.

You allow him this liberty too, feeling a prick of pity in your heart. You know what it is - to be the sole survivor, too see your own people crumble and fall and transform. You know that he returns to that place again and again, reliving the same moment against his will. You know that he gasps and shivers when the memories get too real and overwhelming.

You both are children of the fallen nation, and there's no person in the world who could understand you better than he does. Maybe, you shouldn't have run, you think, listening to Dainsleif speak in Khaenri’ahn. There's a chain of connection between you two, it's unbreakable, forged in shared losses, tears and pain.

Khaenri’ah burns. It burns in both of you.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 22 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren woke in a bed, which was not a surprise. His favorite blanket – the one Wen Ruohan had bought for him – was tucked in around him, and this was also not a surprise.

He was in the Nightless City, which was.

“How…?”

“Your brother gave permission,” Wen Ruohan said, and Lan Qiren twisted his head in surprise, not having seen him sitting there at the desk beside the bed. Wen Ruohan was writing something, his brush movement steady and unhurried; it was a distinct contrast to the seething rage lingering in his voice. “Since I know you care about that.”

“Of course I care,” Lan Qiren said blankly. “He really gave permission?”

Wen Ruohan’s brush paused. “Are you suggesting that I’m lying?”

Lan Qiren considered it for a moment, then said, a little helplessly, “It seems more likely than him agreeing to cut my punishment short.”

Wen Ruohan snorted, and put his brush down. “I insisted,” he said, and the smug curl of his smile suggested it had been more than a casual conversation. “Anyway, he didn’t want a fuss.”

Naturally not, as He Kexin might object, Lan Qiren thought to himself, and shook his head at his own bitterness. He realized a moment later that it didn’t hurt to do that.

“How long did I sleep?” he asked, alarmed. The transit to the Nightless City was long, unless someone decided to waste vast amounts of qi flying by sword – which he could see Wen Ruohan doing – but the staves used for the Lan sect’s more severe discipline were not like those used for more mundane offenses. While they weren’t on par with a discipline whip, they were still made of spiritual wood, infused with qi; the injuries they left would not heal so quickly.

“I applied medicine,” Wen Ruohan said, rising to his feet and coming over to sit by Lan Qiren’s side on the bed, helping him sit up. “You’re not healed, only numb…I understand you’ve been having difficulties in your sect for some time, and that was even before the lady attacked you in an effort to frame you for her own rape.”

“I’m fairly sure she just wanted to show my brother that she wasn’t interested in him,” Lan Qiren said, wincing. He would not have phrased it quite like that, although thinking it over, it did seem to be a fair way to describe it, if an uncomplimentary one. “It’s not a stretch to think that picking his less impressive brother over him would do it.”   

Wen Ruohan’s lips curled into a sneer. “Truly, an ingenious mind. Did she think herself so attractive that no man would ever deny her?”

That, or else she’d been truly desperate. Lan Qiren could sympathize with her to that extent. After all, do not take advantage of your position to oppress others was a rule for a reason, and the power and influence a Great Sect could bring to bear against a rogue cultivator was not nothing. But his sympathy ended at the point where she’d decided it was acceptable to harm him in order to achieve her goal – even looking at her actions in the best possible light and assuming that she sincerely thought he would participate willingly in her plan, she’d made all sorts of assumptions and hadn’t bothered to verify anything before acting on them. 

He Kexin might be free and unrestrained, as his brother had described her, but she was also perilously reckless, and selfish, too.

Still, at the same time Lan Qiren thought about Wen Ruohan’s smirk when he mentioned his ‘insistence’ with his brother – he wasn’t sure if it involved physical violence or not, although the mental image of such a confrontation was oddly satisfying – and grimaced at the thought of the same sort of pressure being brought to bear on someone without a Great Sect’s protection. “About - He Kexin…”

“You needn’t concern yourself for the lady’s sake,” Wen Ruohan said, and his tone was a little unpleasant. “Even after all that, she permitted herself to be convinced by one of her friends that the advantages of receiving Qingheng-jun’s affections outweighed the disadvantages, despite her own better instincts; that seems punishment enough for the moment. Someone who does not hesitate to blind themselves at the say-so of another will reap the reward they deserve in the end…”

He shook his head, and smiled once more, displaying a glint of teeth. 

“You may take comfort that I took no action against her. However, I did suggest that the lady in question consider avoiding Qishan on her future travels.”

Lan Qiren felt something warm pricking his heart. “The thought is appreciated, although unnecessary. The one whose conduct is in the wrong is my brother.”

He’d appreciate an apology from He Kexin, whether for misjudging him or ignoring his refusals, but he wouldn’t hold out hope for it.

“I can be angry at more than one person at once,” Wen Ruohan said. A strange expression flitted over his features. “I admit, I would have thought Lao Nie would have done something about the entire situation sooner. Even if you weren’t writing to me, why didn’t you write to him?”

“I did,” Lan Qiren said. “His initial reply was – unsatisfactory.”

Lao Nie had responded rather casually to Lan Qiren’s message laying out the situation with his brother and He Kexin, speaking light-heartedly of the burning ardor of first love; he had assured Lan Qiren that it was normal to feel troubled by the thought of being left behind, even when the relationship was not good, and that his brother would probably resurface from his infatuation a happier person in the end. It was fairly evident that he hadn’t read all of Lan Qiren’s carefully composed letter.

“I asked him to come by the Lan sect,” he added. “But he was otherwise occupied.”

Wen Ruohan pressed his lips together in irritation. “He’s been otherwise occupied for some time now. You’re not the only one whose letters he’s disregarded.”

“Even you?” Lan Qiren said wonderingly. “But he likes you so much.”

The tightness in Wen Ruohan’s face eased a little. “I’ve asked him to visit here on account of your health,” he said. “I expect to see him arrive in his usual ridiculous flurry of temper and hen-like concern soon enough – once he reads the letter, anyway.”

Lan Qiren nodded, then hesitated. “The last time I was here…”

Wen Ruohan gazed at him sidelong.

Lan Qiren bit his lip. “I understand that I overstepped –”

“Don’t apologize.”

Lan Qiren stopped.

Wen Ruohan looked irritated again. “Don’t apologize,” he said again. “Are you not my little brother? If you cannot scold me, who is there that lives who can? I am not Qingheng-jun.”

Lan Qiren wasn’t entirely sure how the two were connected.

“If you want to make it up to me, go back to the way you addressed me before,” Wen Ruohan added.

Lan Qiren frowned, confused. “How do you mean?”

“Call me da-ge. Not xiongzhang.”

“…the latter is more polite.”

“So is listening to your elders,” Wen Ruohan said haughtily. “As you’re so fond of saying, it’s what I asked.”

“All right, da-ge,” Lan Qiren said obediently, and Wen Ruohan looked pleased.

“Rest,” he ordered, rising to his feet. “There will be dinner soon, and perhaps we can play weiqi once again…is there anything else you need for your room?”

Lan Qiren’s room in the Nightless City was very similar to the room Wen Ruohan had prepared for him in the Cloud Recesses; he couldn’t think of anything else he might need. Except only…

“I don’t suppose you could ask your spies to check in on my rooms back home,” Lan Qiren said, even as he settled back down to rest as instructed. “There was a painting there that you gifted to me that I liked a lot. It fell during the fight, and I haven’t been back since. I don’t want it thrown away.”

“Which one? I got you several…the mountain pass? The flowering tree?”

“No, the landscape with the rolling hills,” Lan Qiren said, and Wen Ruohan, who had been about to leave, stopped abruptly by the door. “It’s a little burned at the edges; you can’t really mistake it for anything else.”

“You liked that one?” Wen Ruohan’s voice was strange, full of some emotion that Lan Qiren was too tired to even try to decipher. “Above the others? The quality is much less, and the skill with the brush inferior.”

“The person who painted it was happy,” Lan Qiren explained. “There’s an echo of the painter’s residual qi trapped in the ink, you can tell a little bit about who they were from that. Whoever it was, they were brash and bold, arrogant and carefree – full of potential, like a phoenix about to alight to a higher branch. Their soul was like a falcon’s, tied down by nothing. Looking at it is an inspiration, and a comfort. I use it sometimes as a focus for meditation.”

“…I’ll have my spies check,” Wen Ruohan said, and he must be truly perturbed by Lan Qiren’s punishment-induced injuries if he had actually just admitted to having spies in the Cloud Recesses. “In the meantime, I have several other works by the same…artist. If you’d like.”

“Oh, very much!” Lan Qiren said enthusiastically; he tried to struggle up to sit again, but he started to feel pain even through the numbness of the anesthetic he’d been dosed with. Wen Ruohan glared him back down, and he yielded meekly, knowing that he was in no state to be really protesting. “Thank you, da-ge. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

Wen Ruohan huffed and put a hand behind his back, sweeping out the door like a gust of wind.

Lan Qiren lay back down, staring up at the ceiling.

Are you really going to do this? he wondered. Will you really forgive him for what he has done, for what he is, just because you desperately need support? What happened to your principles? Your rules?

He exhaled hard, almost a sigh. He still wasn’t all right with the torture, still thought it was wrong for a man to exult in the pain of others in such a grotesque fashion, but he’d gone back to his standby, the rules, and he was reminded brutally that they were designed to function as guides for the self, not for the world. You were supposed to embrace the entirety of the world, to shoulder the burden of morality, to refuse to tolerate evil – and yet the rules of hospitality, of host and guest, of neighbors, were ranked just as high.

He could choose to continue to hold back, to express his disdain of Wen Ruohan’s ways with distance and reserve, but it wouldn’t stop Wen Ruohan from doing what he wanted anyway, and it would leave Lan Qiren even more isolated and friendless than he was already.

It would be better to compromise.

And yet – it was hard, perilously hard, to force himself to do so. It was one of his flaws, he knew: how uncompromising he was, how unyielding, how bitterly he held onto his opinions, refusing to change, especially when he thought he was right.

For his own sake, he needed to try to do so. But he also needed to at least try to salvage his conscience, too.

He’d have to find a way to do both.

So decided, Lan Qiren reserved the issue of how he would do that in the back of his mind, returning to sleep. It would be easier, he thought, to resolve the issue in the morning, once he’d healed up a little more.

It wasn’t, but that was mostly because he was horrified to discover that he had no proper clothing.

“You have clothing that fits,” Wen Ruohan replied, the mildness of his voice failing to conceal the glint of amusement in his eyes. “It’s even in your clan’s colors. What’s the problem?”

“It’s too much,” Lan Qiren insisted, shaking the clothing at him. He had at least been left his inner robes, though he felt naked without the extra layer. “My formal clothing is less excessive than this!”

“That is surely a matter for your sect, isn’t it? I don’t think it’s excessive.”

“You have no sense of proportion!”

Wen Ruohan shrugged. “I can send for something else,” he said. “Even from your home, if you like. By regular post, it should only take a week or so to arrive.”

Lan Qiren scowled.

“If you really prefer, you’re welcome to walk around naked until then –”

Lan Qiren was so aggravated that he actually hissed at him, surprising Wen Ruohan into a laugh that interrupted his words, and returned to his room to begrudgingly put on the robes. They were white and silver, his usual preference – not interwoven with blue, but that wasn’t a surprise, given that white was a secondary color for the Wen sect as well as the Lan – but they were also ridiculously overwrought: embroidered brocade, silks so fine that they had to be layered in order to not be translucent, studded with shining pearls and what might be actual silver…

“Absurd,” he grumbled, but put on the clothing and came back out. “Do you enjoy tormenting me? Is that it?”

“At times,” Wen Ruohan said, his eyes curved and merry. “Come, sit. It’s your move.”

Lan Qiren permitted himself to succumb to his sworn brother’s atrocious taste for the evening, then stole away to the laundry room the first chance he could, determined to beg for a set of clothing that was somewhat more normal – even mourning clothing would be acceptable, as long as it was neither Wen sect nor horribly garish.

Wen Ruohan found him there, arguing spiritedly with the tailor, and whisked him back to his rooms on account of Lan Qiren’s injuries, arguing, correctly, that Lan Qiren was on the verge of collapsing and coughing up blood from having been a bit too enthusiastic.

Eventually, after some of what Lan Qiren called reasoned debate and what Wen Ruohan called flagrant sulking, Wen Ruohan agreed to get him something a little more normal to wear on the condition that he wear at least one adornment of Wen Ruohan’s choosing along with it.

“You secretly wanted to play with dolls as a child,” Lan Qiren said accusingly, even though the initial adornment – a belt loop made from moonstone and jade – was entirely appropriate, even by Lan sect standards. “You were denied the chance then, and now you make it everyone else’s problem. Is that it?”

“Perhaps,” Wen Ruohan said. “It’s been so long, how would I remember?”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes and gamely lost to him at weiqi a few more times.

It was perilously easy to slip back into the comfortable camaraderie that they’d developed on his last visit, he reflected as he prepared for bed that evening. It was something he enjoyed - something they both enjoyed - and if Lan Qiren only kept his opinions to himself, convinced himself to actually bend for once, he might be able to actually keep it, this time. 

The next morning, he went to the extensive library kept by the Wen sect and took down several books on anatomy, carefully copying out the goriest parts of it in his best calligraphy; he wasn’t an inspired painter like the nameless ancient that had done the pictures that now hung in his room here, but he excelled at dry and lifeless copies, which was about what you wanted from an anatomy text.

He finished the small booklet within a few days, and gave it to Wen Ruohan one evening before dinner.

“What’s this?” Wen Ruohan asked, flipping through it with a slightly bemused expression. “Medicine?”

“Anatomy,” Lan Qiren corrected. “Since you – like that sort of thing. It’s a gift.”

Wen Ruohan blinked very deliberately. “Little Lan,” he said, staring down at one of the more explicit illustrations. “Did you get me a gift to help me torture people better?”

“I got you a gift because you’re my sworn brother, and you’re taking care of me,” Lan Qiren said with as much dignity as he could muster in light of the patheticness of his abject surrender. “I got you this gift because it seemed relevant to your interests. Anyway, it’s not something I can share, or even really countenance – and in all honesty I would prefer that you not do it while I’m around, or at minimum try not to mention it to me, to make it easier to look the other way – I mean, it’s not going to be easy, but easier – well, my scruples aren’t important. It’s something that matters to you, so I’ll just –”

Wen Ruohan cleared his throat, interrupting him. “You don’t need to worry about that,” he said, looking at the space above Lan Qiren’s head for some reason. “The Fire Palace has had trouble keeping my interest recently; the entertainment has gone stale. I have moved on.”

Lan Qiren had not expected that, and he smiled happily, his pricked conscience unexpectedly granted a reprieve. For some reason, it made Wen Ruohan stare at him.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that you’re not torturing people for sport any longer,” Lan Qiren told him, in case it wasn’t clear. “As for the booklet, even if it’s not quite right for your interests right now, I still hope you enjoy the work...I’ll get you a better gift next time.”

“No need to strain yourself,” Wen Ruohan said. “I will be pleased no matter what it is, I’m sure.”

He gestured for Lan Qiren to enter the dining room first, which Lan Qiren did. Oddly enough, despite his cliché and rather condescending reassurances, Wen Ruohan looked especially pleased throughout dinner, almost as if he really meant what he’d said.

It was nice, Lan Qiren thought, to be liked. One could get used to it.

His injuries were healing very well, between the medicines Wen Ruohan’s doctors plied him with – Lan Qiren attempted not to calculate the value of them, certain that they were probably worth more than a small sect’s heirloom treasure – and the rich spiritual energy Wen Ruohan insisted on infusing him with, morning and night. Lan Qiren tried to protest that the latter was unnecessary, but Wen Ruohan had stood on his rights as the host, and at any rate he simply had so much qi that the effort seemed not to wear on him at all. So Lan Qiren let him keep doing it, Wen Ruohan’s warm hands conveying warm qi as he spoke to him of various matters, important and trifling, and Lan Qiren – liked it.

“In the Nightless City, we release lanterns several times a year, not just on the Lantern Festival,” Wen Ruohan murmured into Lan Qiren’s ear as he sat there, eyes growing heavy as his rules-mandated bedtime approached. “It’s a celebration of the sun as our sect’s sigil. The lanterns come in all shapes and sizes and colors, and we light the flames with spiritual energy. There’s a day not far from now where we will do it; people are making preparations already. Your body is still stiff and unbending, your wounds still healing – you’ll be here to see it.”

Lan Qiren nodded.

“Good,” Wen Ruohan said. “Very good…ah, little Lan, what a strange thing you are. When you were gone, I thought of you often no matter what I wished. I thought that I could cure it by having you here, but now you are here before me, every day, and yet I think of you no less. It seems that seeing you every day does not cause me to tire of you.”

“Yes, you’re very easily amused,” Lan Qiren said, his eyes sliding shut as the warm qi circulated through his body. “I think we long ago established that.”

“Is there any feature of yours that you actually like, little Lan? Or is it all self-depreciation?”

“I have a good brain,” Lan Qiren said. “I’m creative and analytical, and I explain things well; I make for a decent or even accomplished teacher. My musical ability is good, both in terms of playing and composition. Also, I’m informed that my face is first rate.”

Wen Ruohan laughed behind his shoulder. “I stand corrected.”

When they parted that night, all was well.

The peace did not last until morning.

[catgirl-brain]

[ENG] Another Night - Kazui Mukuhara Voice Drama

Aand... it's been forever since this came out... I had a lot of trouble deciphering what Kazui was trying to say in some portions, so please take this translation with a grain of salt... It's super rough at some parts, sorry!

Kazui: Alright then… Let’s see how this turns out.

(door swings open)

Es: Sorry for the wait,

(door shuts)

Es: Prisoner number 7, Kazui.

Kazui: Excuse me,

(restrains Es)

Es: W-what!?

Kazui: Sorry, give me a second to be ridiculous here.

Es: (struggling) You…! That’s rude!

Kazui: Now, now… I won’t hurt you, so don’t be afraid…

Kazui: Huh..?

Es: (breaks free and gasps)

Kazui: What’s this…? I’ve suddenly lost my strength…

Es: (heavy breathing) Prisoner number 7, Kazui! Do you have any idea what you’ve just done!? You’ve just committed a serious crime.

Kazui: (hums)

Es: Hey! Are you listening to me, Kazui!?

Kazui: Prison guard-kun fought me when I squeezed them… That’s not the image I got from Futa’s account. I thought you’d overpower me,

Es: Huh?

Kazui: but you tried to get out as soon as I started, and - “What’s this?” I suddenly lost control of my own body.

Es: (huffs) I don’t know all the details either, I just know that a prisoner can’t attack the guard.

Kazui: I see… (laughs) But it’s not like a magic barrier- An old man like me wouldn’t be able to handle that… (As an old man, that helps) Still, in terms of reality… it feels a bit like it was hypnosis.

Es: Hey! I don’t care about that!

Kazui: Hm?

Es: Sit down there, Kazui!

Kazui: (chuckles) Ok, ok.

Es: The manner of these prisoners towards their prison guard... Don’t treat me as if I’m a kid, but that behavior is uncalled for... I'm not going to forgive you (for treating me like that), what do you have to say for yourself?

Kazui: Hmm…

Kazui: (claps) Sorry!

Es: Huh?

Kazui: Really- sorry, sorry! I was worried I’d get injured by you, Prison guard-kun. From now on I’ll try to get information safely. Depending on who they are, everyone has their own method of gathering information.

Es: Huh?

Kazui: I’m an anxious old man, so I just needed to verify if Prison guard-kun was armed or not.

Es: You...To do that sort of thing to me…

Kazui: Mm? I thought it would be fine, but I suppose it wasn’t.

Es: Oh? But I didn't like it.

Kazui: Oh, no no, I don’t mean to offend you. Well, it’s no problem, if we can’t attack you, you can’t attack us, either.

Es: Hmm? (approaches him)

Kazui: What are you doing?

Es: (slaps him)

Kazui: T...that hurts….!

Es: Hey, what’s wrong? I was able to attack you?

Kazui: That was uncalled for-!.. Even so... that seems to be true…

Es: What, should I have said that earlier? Should slap you again to see if it works that time?

Kazui: Aw, I get it! I’ll be patient… (clears throat) I suppose the guard has decided the situation… We’re just scared of unfamiliar situations, don't you hate it - not knowing things?

Kazui: If I can’t expect it, it could hurt me. Even if not, it's better to see first. There’s always something dangerous. And what’s more, from the beginning of this session, you seem unfazed by this “mechanism”- somewhere, it sounds like pieces of something are moving. (??)

Es: What are you trying to say?

Kazui: In other words, we’re divided into the positions of Guard and Prisoner. We’re both trying to glean the information we lack.

Kazui: I think it’s “fair” in that sense.

Es: Me and you guys… we’re “fair”?

Kazui: Well, that’s my guess. I was hoping that Prison guard-kun would agree with me if I decided it was okay.

Es: Hmm… but you’re such a chatty man.

Kazui: (laughs) That’s true (laughs) I’m worried all the time, this old man’s no good.

Es: Well, what you’re saying is pretty interesting. It’s true; at some times I don’t even know everything about MILGRAM.

Kazui: (affirmative hum)

Es: But! I am the Prison Guard of MILGRAM, and you’re a prisoner, that much is true.

Kazui: (hum)

Es: That’s the most important thing here. Now then, Prisoner number 7, Kazui. Let’s get started.

Kazui: Alright, very professional aren’t we? (laughs) Well, let me introduce myself. I like this too. This isn’t my first time introducing myself to you.

Kazui: Once again, it’s Mukuhara Kazui, age 39. Nice to meet you, Prison guard-kun.

Es: Hm. You guys are all murderous prisoners. Kazui, you shouldn’t be so cheerful.

Kazui: Murderous... is that it? Well, you’re not wrong there.

Es: Mm? Confess it then.

Kazui: Confess.. At the very least, I believe I’m a murderer. I admit that. I don’t know if that’s a good way to put it.

Es: A good way to put it…?

Kazui: And that’s all there is, for the most part. To me, there should be no murderers aside from me. (??????????????????????????????????????)

Es: What do you mean?

Kazui: For example, for what reason are you gathering us murderers here? That’s something a crazy person would do. Is there a better word other than “murderer”? The term is too broad.

Es: Hey, Kazui. This isn’t the time to be asking questions.

Kazui: And I’m not recognizable as a murderer, unless you know my crime. Why the hell are we even on trial? It doesn’t make sense.

Es: I don’t give a damn about all that. I am the one who will decide whether to forgive you or not.

Kazui: Oh, is that so? Even though I don’t know who you’re working for?

Es: They’re fluffy. And if there's a problem, they’ll show up.

Kazui: Hm..? It’s something like that..?

Es: Stop acting like a detective, it’s unpleasant.

Kazui: Okay, okay.

Es: (sighs) Kazui. How do you feel about the other prisoners?

Kazui: Oh, that’s a good one. Don’t worry, everyone is well and friendly. The younger ones often get stressed, but there seems to be a good balance.

Es: That answer would be the same no matter who you ask. Don’t worry about conflicts between prisoners.

Kazui: Isn’t that what’s happening right now? I don’t really know what’s in my head, and you don’t know what life is like outside of here (???)

Es: Hm?

Kazui: There's an air of good feelings around the prison. I would be okay with living here forever. Why have you prepared such an environment..?

Es: Hey! Stop trying to get the conversation off track!

Kazui: (laughs) I got caught. Forgive me, alright? I’m an old man, I can’t help teasing kids like you- I have to be a little mischievous.

Es: You’re the same as Shidou. I hate it. I swear, does every adult act this way?

Kazui: (laughs) Did Shidou-kun also do that? He’s really calm, isn’t he? Can’t take that one sitting down.

Es: Are you different? You seem just as childish.

Kazui: Mmm… Does it seem that way? That’s good.

Es: What’s good about that? I don’t get this.

Es: This is a place where your consciousness will reveal itself (?) calculated by the impressions from others, but they can easily lie.

Kazui: This is, this is… You’re pretty tough. (laughs) But you’re not showing your true self, and neither am I.

Es: Hm…

Kazui: But, I’m older, so I have to take more responsibility/I need to try harder when I’m around kids like you. I’m an old man, so I need to keep a smile on my face while hiding my fangs.. Even if you are young.

Es: I see..

Kazui: You can tell I’m lying… Well, that may be the case. Unfortunately for you adults are very good at lying.

Es: Adults, huh?

Kazui: You’ll be stumped(?). Although, maybe you have some mysterious power...

Es: (cute laugh) Hey, Kazui…

Kazui: Yeah?

Es: That’s exactly it.

Kazui: Eh?

Es: I see your weakness. I can look inside you and unravel the sounds of your heart… What’s more, that adult technique. (??)

Kazui: (laughing) What? What’s that supposed to mean?

Es: Stop laughing, it’s unpleasant.

Kazui: (oh hoho…) Oi, oi, What on Earth is going on here….

Es: Are you a sweet-natured man who takes his losses well? Or are you really someone else?

Kazui: (hums)

Es: I’m looking forward to seeing it… Is it possible to hide anything from it? (‘it’ being the MILGRAM machine that produces the songs). I see now...

Es: In time, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll see the vulnerabilities in the lies of a murderer.. Though I’ve already seen through it a while ago.

Kazui: So… You’re going to do all that?

Es: What do you think?

Kazui: Well, it’s not so bad… sounds just like an adult, doesn’t it?

Es: (laughs) Being an adult, huh… Don’t use that as an excuse for you behavior, coward*

Kazui: (offended sound)

Es: In this place, it doesn’t matter whether you’re an adult or a child. MILGRAM forces you to stare deep into yourself, and you can’t escape.

Kazui: I…. see. I don’t care about this place of yours, and it hasn’t even scratched my surface. I just want to be stronger than it. (?)

Kazui: Of course, I’ve killed, and now I have no reservations about breaking any other laws. It’s different… I wonder if I’m in trouble. Nothing has changed, but I don’t know how to feel. Don’t talk to me like you know what I’m feeling, kid.

Es: (offended noise)...

Es: Welcome, Mukuhara Kazui. I feel like we’ve met before… It's nice to meet you. I am Es, the prison guard of MILGRAM.

Kazui: (exhales, chuckles) Starting again, huh? Well, you won't regret it, that kind of relationship would be painful,

Es: That’s alright, isn’t it? Causing you pain is my job.

Kazui: Mm, you’re a pro.

Es: Surely, as just a regular human being, you can’t be totally prepared for this.

(Bell rings, machinery starts whirring)

Kazui: What’s this?

Es: It’s time for your cross-examination. You’ll face your regrets from now on.

Kazui: (sighs) Someone help… this is too much for me…

Es: That’s right, Kazui… show me your true feelings.

Kazui: Ahaha… Well, I’m embarrassed to concede to a child and say all that…

Es: Don’t worry. I’m going to know your soul from now on.

Kazui: Finding the truth of my inner feelings, huh? Alright.

Es: That’s right.

Kazui: Ah… oh, Prison guard-kun?

Es: What is it?

Kazui: This personality of mine… I’ve developed it from living in the world. Could you tell me about your own experiences? It’s a little annoying to have such a one-sided relationship, isn't it?

Es: I’m not interested in myself.

Kazui: That’s a lot of new information to add to the situation… I… I hide my own sins behind a delusion… I don’t know what you will see when it’s opened.

Es: Kazui…

Kazui: How’s that? Can you see how fickle adults are?

Es: Shut up. You’re the one who’s fickle.

Kazui: (laughs) Tough, isn't it? But is it the end?

Es: Prisoner #7, Kazui. Now, sing your sins.

[siwoline]

“can we stay like this forever?” — [sjy.]

♫ : spaces by martti franca

word count: 1,901  |  angst, masochist

<masterlist> <prev> <next>

some, if not everyone, surely had a tower moment. a phase when everything seems to go downfall and you had no other choice but to surrender to wherever the universe takes you. some faced everything alone and some found a companion.

in your case, you had jake.

you met each other through a common friend back in high school. it was just a “hey, this is y/n. y/n, this is jake.” type of introduction and you just both went on with your lives separately, not minding each other’s business because you clearly had nothing to do with it. you weren’t interested with him and, on your point of view, he wasn’t too.

but suddenly, you passed by each other’s lives again, when he saw you sitting like a drunk single aunt by the gutter of an abandoned gas station. it was because you told your friends you’ll walk your way home even though your vision was spinning and your head hurt like hell.

you remember, “y/n?” jake mispronounced your name when he saw you then.

and you corrected him even though you’re drunk by saying, “it’s y/n! you stupid!”

“i’m sorry, y/n. do you need something?”

obviously! is this man really stupid? were your thoughts. you were looking at him meaningfully, trying to tell him that he’s unbelievable but he seems to not care about your stares. he just reached for your arms and guided you to wrap them around his broad shoulders.

this man’s caring. what the hell.

as much as you wanted to throw your shoes at jake that time, you just didn’t have the energy to fight and perhaps you wanted to thank him for somehow taking care of you even though you barely know each other.

after that night, you were informed that, apparently, jake studies in the same university and he lives near your pad. and according to your common friend, it’s just a 10-minute ride from yours.

your encounter with him did not stop there because you saw each other again on a party hosted by your friend. the moment you laid eyes at each other, he recognized you right away and walked towards you leaving a girl who’s clearly hitting on him that time.

that night, you two shared stories and even danced with some acquaintances, completely unaware that it was the start of something you didn’t anticipate.

“who’s this?” you said when you picked up the call of someone who’s bugging you at three in the morning, the day after your friend’s party.

that’s when you heard jake mumbling words you cannot decipher because first, it was, again, three in the morning, and second, he was a drunk zombie.

“where are you?” you asked him repetitively and still trying to respond to what he was saying until the bartender took over the phone and told you where he is.

you went to the bar to fetch him. jake looked so wrecked and tired from the world, he’s a complete mess when you saw him lying on the bar’s couch. when you went to him and woke him up, he looked at you and there you saw his stares. his intense eyes looked like he wanted someone to save him or just someone who’s willing to hear his stories.

and so you did.

it was almost everyday, at three in the morning, when you go out to see each other at the gas station where you first met as acquaintances. you’d bring snacks from your stock and he’d bring drinks bought from the convenience store he’ll pass by on his way to you.

you’d talk about everyday, how things went wrong and how things are going. you’d tell him that the only constant thing in the world is life fucking you up and his boisterous laugh would disturb anyone and anything near. he’d tell you how pretty the night sky is and how badly he wanted to travel just to see its end and you’d agree and tell jake you’ll go with him.

no one knew of the times you’re together, not even the friend who introduced you to each other. it was just a moment between you two, and you hate to admit but there are times that by thinking of it, the thought of seeing jake, made you feel things.

and god, as well as jake, knows how badly you hate feeling tickling emotions, those of the positive kind, because you know that there’s definitely an aftermath.

“how’s your brother?” he randomly asked when you were just talking about an online post you shared with each other through chat.

“he’s doing well. you want to see him next weekend?” then he nodded as a response.

it was not just you who grew fond of jake, some of your family members, only those whom he met, did as well. especially your little brother. they’d play games when you and jake would come over to your grandfather’s house where your brother temporarily lives. they would also talk about boy stuff, completely excluding you from the conversation, and you can see the both of them enjoying their time.

and, annoyingly, again, this made you feel more at ease with jake.

“do you still drink?” you asked meaninglessly.

“not anymore,” he shrugged, as if saying he doesn’t know why.

“as i am,” that’s when he looked at you, confused. “i don’t know. maybe i’m healed,” and you laughed with the absurdity of the thought.

but jake smiled with what you said, “that can be true.”

“what about you? you’re finally moved on from the woman you cried for when i first fetched you at the bar?”

he turned his head away, obviously feeling shy. “that was more than a year ago, y/n.” his lips are forming a pout. “plus, i’m being comforted in a much healthier way.”

you were shocked by his response. “you’re seeing someone again?”

he shook his head and said, “i just found comfort in someone’s presence.”

“isn’t that the same?”

he looked at you and said, “i don’t want to intervene in their peace.”

then all of a sudden, that was your last encounter with jake. you didn’t hear any news about him or his whereabouts for a good six months. when you were told that he’ll be attending a seminar, you woke up late which led to not seeing him around the campus ever since. just like that, jake was nowhere to be found.

and you cannot believe why jake’s no-show bothered you so much.

you thought of him almost everyday, thinking whether he’s doing fine or coping from his heartbreak and problems. you thought of how he’s doing in school because you haven’t seen his shadow from anywhere. you were dead worried of him yet no one knows that you still are.

“y/n, later! don’t pretend to forget, you brat,” you laughed and nodded as a response.

your friend is having a party tonight and you prepared for it the moment you arrived home. wearing the simplest attire, almost looking as if you’re not interested to go, you went to the party.

the moment you stepped foot at the bar, you were reminded of several things. and definitely one of them is jake.

weird how the loud bass and taste of beer feels so nostalgic for you. was it the long period of time that passed since you decided to quit drinking? or was it, again, him?

you shook your head, trying to brush off the thought you have in mind. you took your fifth glass of cuervo and looked at your wristwatch only to see that it’s about three in the morning. you stood up, with your head quite heavy, and went to find your friend so you could bid good bye and leave. 

only to be stopped at your tracks because a pair of eyes are staring at you intensely. it’s jake.

it was quite a moment when you stared at each other but you decided to pretend as if you didn’t see anything. you’re confused at what you’re feeling at the very moment because, for you, you’re not supposed to feel anger just because he didn’t show up nor feel as if you’re longing for his presence.

“y/n,” you heard him call your name and a cold palm touched your skin when he held your hands to stop you from walking away.

you faced him, trying to show a smile. and there you saw a cleaner look of jake, a more mature one you must say. you looked at his eyes and you were surprised with what you’re seeing. your smile grew wider, more genuine this time, because he definitely looks happier now.

“hey. long time no see,” was all you can utter.

“y/n, i’m sorry—”

“look, i have to go home. the apartment’s gate,” you were cut off by him telling you that, “there’s no curfew and you always have a key with you. you don’t forget that. you’re afraid to get locked out.”

right. of course, jake knows that.

you’re afraid to get locked out, you’re afraid to be left behind. without a word, without any notice. you find it hard to forget, especially the moments dear to you, the moments that kept you warm. he knows that but why did he leave was all over your head.

“i have to go,” you said and let go of his hand but he didn’t budge. you kept moving and telling him to, “let go, jake.”

“y/n, i like you.” was what jake needed to say to make you stop from struggling.

he reached for your right arm and now his intense stares feel as if it can see your soul. and what happens now is the very thing you’re afraid of.

“i like you, i love you, i,” he sighed in frustration. “the last time we saw each other, it was you i was referring to. it was you whom i do not want their peace to be ruined. god, i even wanted to talk to you when you were first introduced to me. i wanted to hear more of your stories, i wanted to be even just a small part of your life, y/n.”

“i was so afraid of telling you because i know you fear this the most. you fear feeling things, you fear giving and risking all that you have, you fear the warmth of what love could give, y/n. i know that and you’ve always reminded me about that.” he continued.

“then why are you telling me this now?” i said, almost shouting because of how frustrated i am with what he’s saying. “why are you telling me you love me after leaving me, jake?”

“because,” he paused, looking both tired and frustrated of what’s happening right now. “because i can never get over you. i tried but i can’t and maybe because i do not even want to, y/n. i hate—”

“i fear commitments, jake.”

he looked at you, stared even, and smiled as if he just got reminded of a detail he forced himself to set aside.

still looking at you, with eyes begging you to let out what you really do feel, he said, “you can take your time. please, just allow me to—”

“i fear commitments, jake,” you repeated what you said. “what’s so hard to understand—”

“then just have me by your side, like old times, please.”

[takuyakistall]

tuna | anniversary special

Synopsis: A normal day in Yuu's new life in NRC but, somehow, today made them feel a little bit nostalgic.

Notes: I wanted to write something for Twisted Wonderland's anniversary! This game really means so much to me and I don't think I would've picked up writing again if I didn't stumble upon it. Something about Grim and Yuu's relationship makes me emotional and the fact that Grim got a new card in the game didn't help me cope at all. I ended up writing this fic as a result, this is just purely fluff! (I think) I hope you guys like this.

The smell of charred coal and an oily can of tuna greeted Yuu's nostrils as they stirred awake, grumbling incoherent words as their eyes adjusted to the sudden sunlight entering their room through the window. It was almost peaceful.

Almost.

Had it not been for Grim feasting on his tuna noisily and messily. Yuu sighed as they stood up from their bed and began to arrange it—folding the sheets, dusting the pillows and set them aside neatly. The creaking of the floorboards with each step they took used to unnerve them, afraid that it might give in one day but Yuu learned to get used to it. Though sometimes they can't help but worry for the day when it actually gives in. Maybe they could ask Headmaster Crowley before that happens?

Yuu shook their head and dismissed the thought. The last thing they wanted to hear was Crowley spouting nonsense all over again and then disappearing without a trace. Judging from all the times Crowley has let them down, who's to say that he won't do it again? They pulled out the wooden chair placed by the table and scrunched their face when they saw how Grim was eating.

"You're making a mess everywhere!" Yuu scolded, trying to snatch the tuna can from his hands (paws?) before he could knock the other stuff down on the table. Grim didn't bother refuting as he sat back lazily on the chair, a satisfied grin on his face.

"Mhm... That was delicious~!" Grim let out a merry sigh. The breakfast he'd been used to everyday wasn't something he would look forward to or enjoy. Living in an abandoned dorm meant that no one else was there to cook for them but theirselves and there was no way Yuu was letting the ghosts handle the cooking. As a result, most of their meals were either bland or too little in terms of portions—Crowley wasn't one to ensure these types of things so that's one more thing Yuu adds to the list of 'Why I don't like the Headmaster'.

So when Grim found a can of tuna lying around somewhere, he didn't waste a second to grab the golden opportunity in front of him. Though there was one tiny little problem with what Grim did.

Yuu got that for their breakfast today.

Together.

And much to their misfortune and Grim's doom, the can was empty. Yuu had to pause for a moment to process the sudden discovery—Grim ate all of the tuna. They had to clench their fist tightly so as to not grab the ribbon tied around Grim's neck and shake him like a pepper shaker. Grim was blissfully unaware of the way Yuu was giving him glares that could kill and continued to relish himself in his euphoria. Though that was short-lived when Yuu decided to open their mouth, gentle anger lacing their voice.

"Grim. Did you eat all of the tuna?" They crossed their arms across their chest, a perfect close eyed smile on their face as they tilted their head slightly when they questioned Grim. He froze for a moment, eyes widening and his lips slightly twitching as Yuu furrowed their eyebrows. Clearly, they saw how the sudden realization hit the raccoon-cat (or whatever he was) and how nervous he became. He needs to think of an excuse—fast.

"A-Ah! About this…" Grim started, throwing his paws around in the air, making out incomprehensible gestures. Though before they could hear his explanation, an important thought crossed over Yuu's mind and they felt their blood run cold.

"Hey… Grim. What time is it?" They didn't wait for a reply, feet already scrambling towards their closet as they vigorously looked for a clean uniform. Grim held a confused expression.

"Eh, time? Isn't it…"

"Grim you idiot! We're bloody late!"

"F'nya!! Why didn't ya tell me sooner!?"

"Oh so now it's my fault? You're the one who didn't wake me up!"

"Professor Trein is going to be so mad…"

"Just shut up and start walking!"

Both of them dashed out from Ramshackle, the doorknob at the entrance getting slightly jammed so Yuu had no choice but to break the rickety door down. Not that it was difficult though, burglars could've easily killed them during their sleep—that is, if people even manage to climb a whole mountain to bother stealing from them. They'll just have to explain the door incident to Headmaster Crowley as well later. That is, if they manage to talk to him at all.

But, for now, the only thing stuck in their heads was to run as fast as they can or else it was off with their heads!

“You’re late.” Their teacher, Professor Mozus Trein, spoke in a cold tone. Gingerly stroking his cat’s head as it purred but that didn't give Yuu and Grim any ease at all when they stood there, unmoving, at the classroom entrance. Yuu tried to keep a neutral expression, hands at their side and feet together. Grim, on the other hand, wasn’t doing so well with doing the same as Yuu. He had trouble standing straight on two legs so he decided to climb up Yuu’s back to their shoulder and stayed there.

The sudden shift in weight on one of their shoulders made them grimace slightly.

“Good morning, Professor. Please excuse my tardiness, it won’t happen again.” Yuu bowed slightly, hoping that this would all be over quickly and he would let them go to their respective chairs. They straightened their back, looking at Trein directly before he gave them a slight nod and returning his attention to the chalkboard in front.

Yuu and Grim let out a sigh of relief simultaneously as they quickly went to their respective seats with Grim hopping off Yuu’s shoulder. He grabbed a bunch of books from Yuu’s bag to stack them up. Sitting on it since he wasn’t tall enough to see on his own without the desk obstructing his view.

Yuu caught the sight of Ace trying hard to keep in his laughter in the corner of their eye. They wondered for a moment about what Ace could possibly be laughing about until they heard Grim snarl ever so slightly. As if a lightbulb suddenly popped up over Yuu’s head, it suddenly clicked all too well.

He was laughing at them.

Although Yuu didn’t particularly mind being laughed at by that clown, Ace Trappola, Grim didn’t share the same sentiment. They had to hold back Grim’s tail to stop him from throwing a fit during class—it was a good thing Professor Trein had his back turned or else they’d be in bigger trouble.

A few minutes into class and Yuu could already feel their head explode. Coming from a completely different world than Twisted Wonderland, there was no doubt that they were going to have difficulty understanding things from here. While History of Magic was indeed an interesting subject, Yuu couldn’t help but feel the need to pull their hair out when they saw what Professor Trein was writing on the board.

‘Those symbols… am I supposed to know them? This looks more like a summoning circle more than anything, how am I supposed to understand this?’

They slapped their forehead repeatedly and forced theirselves to stare at the board once more—hoping that staring at it for a while would miraculously make them understand whatever that is. Grim, on the other hand, looked like he was boding well—looking so studious and listening attentively. But the moment he picked up a pen, that’s when the image was ruined. Yuu had to stifle their laughter when they saw him struggle to write on paper.

While it was a bit mean to laugh at him, Yuu couldn’t deny the fact that the drastic change was hilarious.

“Yuu, is there something you’d like to share with the class?” Professor Trein suddenly called out their name. Their back straightened and their gaze immediately snapped to the teacher in front. It seems like the Professor was paying more attention to Yuu.

Someone in the classroom let out a snort. Small, but audible for it to be heard by everyone in the dead silent classroom.

“Ace Trappola, do you have something to say as well?”

Ace stood up almost immediately.

“N-Nothing, Professor!”

Yuu was a tiny bit glad that Ace slipped up. At least they won’t be alone when Professor Trein decides to punish them. They shot a mischievous look at Ace, sticking their tongue out that screams: Serves you right!

“Dismissed.” With one single word from Trein, the class burst into a series of relieved sighs and yawns—a few ones groaning here and there but they were eventually glared at by the Professor and his poofy cat. Ace sluggishly walked towards Yuu and Grim with Deuce, who looked as fresh as ever, following behind.

“Hey, did you get everything Professor Trein said? Today’s class was sooo boring.” Ace whined, crossing his arms over his chest as he asked his three friends.

“Nope.” Yuu answered truthfully as they put back their pen into their case.

“Not at all…” Deuce closed his eyes and clutched his forehead.

“Hmph! Of course I did, I even took down notes.” Grim was proud as he puffed out his chest. Ace’s eyes perked up for a moment, wondering if he would let him view his notes until a sudden realization struck him. He wouldn’t be able to decipher Grim’s terrible handwriting in the first place. His expression slowly turned into one of disappointment—something akin to the feeling of finding out your name wasn’t in the Top 50.

Deuce was the first to comment. “These are….. Notes?”

“Grr! What’s that supposed to mean!?”

“It looks like a bunch of scribbles made by a cat.” Yuu added. Grim was about to be fuming mad until his ears drooped down slightly, Yuu felt a pang hit their chest. Could they possibly be feeling bad?

“Well… I’ll give you an A for effort.” Yuu patted Grim’s head, hoping that they didn’t hurt his feelings too much after that comment. Instead of lifting his spirits up, Grim felt like his soul got crushed. He felt like Yuu pitied him more than actual commendation, but he won’t say anything. He’ll take the crumbs of praise he can get.

Ace straightened up and walked towards the exit, dragging his legs slightly as he called out his friends. “Oi! Let’s go have lunch already, I’m starving!”

“Coming!” Deuce replied before promptly poking Yuu’s shoulder to make sure that they heard Ace.

“Alright, alright. Give me a minute to fix all my stuff, you guys can go ahead.” Grim stared at Yuu, wondering who should he go with—Yuu or Ace and Deuce? He was going to accompany the Heartslabyul Duo until he remembered how Yuu didn’t get to eat breakfast because of him.

He felt a little bit bad for leaving them like this.

He opened his mouth to say that he’s going to stay with Yuu until they suddenly cut into his thoughts like a knife into butter.

“Grim, you can go ahead too. Save a seat for me while you’re at it.”

“Are ya sure?” Grim asked them for reassurance.

“...? Are you going to miss me or something?” Yuu teased.

“No way! Nevermind, I’m leaving!”

Yuu watched as the Ace, Deuce, and Grim exited the door before letting their smile drop into a frown. They wondered if today was an okay date to ask the Headmaster about progress on the whole ‘find Yuu a way back home’ thing. But, there was a possibility that their visit to his office will be all for naught. Crowley was someone unpredictable, after all—eccentric is another way to put it nicely.

They tapped their fingers against the desk rhythmically. Dozens of thoughts running inside their head. The chatter outside the classroom cutting their train of thoughts continuously which annoyed them to death but it was something they took comfort in. The nostalgic noises of a bustling school filled with students going on and about.

It reminded them of their homeworld.

Yuu decided to look for Crowley as they stood up from their chair. A nostalgic bitterness lingering in their mouth as they left.

“Why did I think I would find him today?” Yuu asked no one in particular. Eyes glued to the wall clock as they counted the minutes they had left before break ended and classes started again. They silently dwelled on their regret of visiting Crowley’s office, it was nothing but a waste of time. Now they had less than 30 minutes to go into the cafeteria to get some food.

Each step they took was taxing. They put too much force with every one and perhaps that was a result of getting mad at a useless bird—their temper can’t help but explode a little bit. By the time Yuu arrived, they spotted the idiot trio sitting by the window. They had already finished eating long ago but they were still there. A thought popped into their head.

‘Could it be…? They were waiting for me!?’ Yuu knew it was nowhere near the truth but perhaps they can indulge theirself once in a while with these kinds of thoughts. Grim was the first to spot them.

“Where were you!? Break is almost over.” The grumble Yuu’s stomach let out made their cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Maybe it was because they skipped breakfast? Grim felt bad. This was his fault, wasn't it? Ace and Deuce urged Yuu to go buy something to eat but one look at the line formed by the counter, Yuu immediately declined. They’re going to be late for class if they waited!

Grim stared at the small portion of lunch he set aside for himself for later. Much to no one’s surprise, it was fish. He had a debate with himself—asking if he wanted to keep this or offer it to Yuu. In the end, he went for the latter. He nudged Yuu with his paw before holding up the plate with his two paws.

“Have this if you want… Ya didn’t get to eat breakfast because of me, right? I feel kinda bad but here.”

Ace’s eyes were wide in shock and Deuce dropped his yogurt. Yuu was flabbergasted at the sudden nice gesture Grim was showing but-

“Sorry, but I don’t want rabies.”

Grim had to resist the urge to set everything on fire. Yuu had to bite back a laugh when they saw how mad Grim was—denying everything about him having rabies. The troubles they had about Crowley were long gone and replaced by the bubbling happiness growing in their chest. The sight of their friends—Grim, Ace and Deuce—was enough to convince them to forget about it. Even if it’s just for a short while.

The nostalgic taste danced in the tip of their tongue once again. A sudden wave of sadness washing over them as they thought about the day when they’ll eventually go back to their own world.

I’ll miss this. Definitely.

They looked up to see Grim causing a mess with Ace holding him back and Deuce trying to summon another cauldron. Yuu shook their head.

But, for now, let’s focus on the present.

Is it so bad that Yuu wanted the incompetent headmaster to stay incompetent? Just for a little longer, don’t find a way back.

[devanksan]

Fundamental Understanding of Body Language

Importance of knowing body language to avoid contradiction between what we say and what we do to increase the credibility

Body language is the first method of contact among humans. Since ancient times the body has been an irreplaceable instrument of communication before speech and written language.

We are permanently communicating and under the scrutiny of other people, even without conversing with them, during walking alone in the park, riding the subway, going to the university, etc. According to the body posture, the way of walking, and the expression of the face and hand movements, we can decipher the inner state of this person.

People observe our body language while communicates to others through gestures and movements, the thoughts, and emotions we are feeling at that moment. The body sends permanent messages to our brain, affecting our mood; therefore, if we assume an upright position, our mood improves immediately; if we take a stooped position, our mood decreases.

Being conscious of the significance of body language for a better coexistence in society improves social relations and helps build a better world; more humanistic, creative, empathetic, productive, where you can live and act in freedom.

Why is body language always a topic of discussion?

Man is a social being who constantly communicates with his environment to satisfy basic needs that allow him to stay alive, such as food, health, clothing, education, etc., and develop in society. It is challenging to live in isolation without communicating with each other.

In recent decades, there has been a significant trend in positive psychology in the study of body language and emotional intelligence. Previously, there are scholars to study negative emotions, now they have focused on the study of positive emotions of the individual, and the results have been surprising.

Scientific research has discovered that the key to human development and growth depends on people's mental state; their levels of satisfaction and happiness are directly related to creativity, production, and performance, based on the ability to communicate and interrelate with their environment.

Experts affirm that 93% of what we communicate, we do it through body language. If we cannot manage our emotions and maintain synchrony between thoughts, feelings, and words, our own body oversees contradicting what we say. This contradiction directly affects our credibility with others, with negative consequences for our personal and professional growth.

Why is body language important in a job interview?

Companies are concerned about choosing a professional with the right profile for what they are looking for, thus saving time, money and improving the company's conditions. The success in the selection of the candidate for a job is the success of the company. Thus, be mindful of every detail when communicating; a small oversight can provide an excellent opportunity for both parties.

An extraordinary resume is not enough; it must be strengthened with skills and personal characteristics, which can only evaluate during the interview. In the job interview, several elements are involved, and the body language adds credibility to the presentation speech.

From the moment you arrive at the company's physical headquarters that will conduct the interview, your evaluation starts from the manner of dress, verbal, and body language. In these moments, special attention and focus on the gestures that accompany the word and express the emotional states that the person experiences in those moments.

With technology, some companies implement strategies that allow you to observe the job candidate online or in the waiting room before the interview. This technique will enable you to observe behaviors that indicate insecurity, stress, or anxiety. The candidate could be monitored and evaluated, his presentation, punctuality, and behavior. The interviewer accomplishes this observation through observation and a practical understanding of body language.

The employer knows your resume, which demonstrates strengths and skills. The interview seeks to discover and evaluate your personal ability to meet the different challenges within the organization successfully.

Inappropriate language can send the wrong signals and impoverish the interviewer's perception of you. You should not only take care of your physical appearance, but it is also essential to take care of the way you carry yourself.

Your verbal answers may be flawless, but if your body language shows signs of nervousness, insecurity, fears, it can negatively affect your chances of getting the job of your dreams.

Through body language, the interviewer discovers your level of security, optimism, and self-control, which, added to your physical presentation and resume, increases your chances of being hired.

It is fundamental to handle the presentation speech, workings on ourselves to control emotions expressed through body language, and while we communicate through speech, our own body can give us away.

Insecurity produces fears; uncontrolled nerves manifest through unconscious and involuntary actions that send signals to our interlocutor (sweating, nervous tics, involuntary body movements, etc.); you can only correct this with the effective management of our emotions.

What to do before going to a job interview?

There is only one chance to make a good impression, first, prepare your image.

Take some time to choose what to wear. Find out what style identifies the company, dress appropriately

Prepare to rehearse, applying self-analysis, following what's in the resume

Get information about the company and the products it offers

Look for information about the job position offered by the company; this practice denotes interest. It is a plus

Decorate the answers to possible questions, turning weak points into strong points, arguing intelligently

Get examples in your career where you demonstrate behaviors that highlight your virtues to convince your interlocutor

Research body language by practicing in front of the mirror or ask a good friend for an opinion on your performance

Evaluate possible questions and possible answers for greater security.

Sleep 8 hours a day and eat properly

How does the interviewer define your personality traits in 30 minutes to 1-hour interview?

In an interview, the language is the protagonist; from the first minute, the evaluation begins. Between 30 minutes and 1 hour, the interviewer will try to discover personality traits that will ensure success in the performance of the position to be filled within the business organization.

The interviewer will ask a sequence of questions to find out if you are qualified for the position within the company.

The answers and your body language will let the interviewer know if you are lying if you are honest and if you feel comfortable in specific elements such as:

Goals in life and work

Expectations about the job

Availability

Commitment

Skills

Defects

Virtues

What would you be willing to do?

Why were you interested in the company?

Most little satisfying moments

Others

Experts say that 90% of communication in an interview is done through body language. Reflect on your thoughts, feelings, fears, and difficulties. Prepare yourself internally and externally for the interview. Believe in yourself, respond naturally, take on new challenges a priori, show confidence and say, yes, I can do it.

5 Negative body language to watch out for

These are some of the body behaviors, which send negative signals to our interlocutors:

Walking posture

Body posture requires a specific body movement. A person who walks hunched does not have agile and energetic steps; a person with an assertive stance does not walk timidly

Walking hunched over, with shoulders forward and chin down, shows low self-esteem, frustration, and motivation

Shuffling feet can be perceived as a sluggish or sick person who is hostile to the company

Arms drooping without balance; shows the attitude of an unmotivated person who does not value himself and does not give value to what surrounds him

Correct posture

Back straight, shoulders back, chin up, this is an assertive posture that covers a larger vital space and increases positive energies. This posture makes us look capable, self-confident, and highly motivated.

Face

To show a face without expressions, with an elusive look, that wanders and cannot remain fixed in front of the interlocutor; generates distrust and disinterest

The cold aspect of facial expressions, the absence of wrinkles on the forehead and eyes that occur when we are surprised or happy, is unfriendly to others and shows anger, dissatisfaction

Lack of smiling; is interpreted as a sign of dissatisfaction and unhappiness, and the person interviewed may be perceived as inaccessible and complicated

Looking over the shoulder of the interlocutor shows arrogance, contempt, unfriendliness to others

Correct facial expression

Maintain eye contact without exaggerating

Smile: it allows open communication. It denotes kindness, understanding, and joy, ideal to start a conversation

The look: it can express different emotions; the most crucial job interview should be interesting. The eyebrows accompany the look. The person, who shows interest, keeps the eyebrows fixed and the gaze, observing the interviewer, taking minor detours to refresh

In the face of emotions of astonishment and surprise, they are raised, and the eyes are enlarged

Pupils open wide

Before emotions of joy, the eyes accompany the smile, closing a little and producing small wrinkles on the sides

Hands

Shaking hands is a good start, but you must know how to do it. It should not be strong, nor so weak; it should be firm and show confidence, looking into the person's eyes doing the interview

A weak handshake projects an unreliable and unenthusiastic impression. Shaking hands that are sweaty and shaky shows insecurity; you don't believe in yourself

Avoid touching only your fingers or squeezing the other person's hand. It can lead to misunderstandings

Fingers wringing during the interview denotes anxiety

Hide your hands; it is the worst idea you can have

Experts in body language recommend in these moments of anxiety, while listening to our interlocutor, to join the tips of the fingers without joining the palms

Keeping your hands inside your pants (men) denotes that you are oblivious and uninterested in the topic of conversation

Putting your arms across is a sign of a blockage, denial in communication

Throwing your hands with force is a sign of a defiant attitude

Avoid pointing fingers; it is a sign of accusation

Positive gestures

Generally used as a technique to order thoughts, establish references, and remember correctly.

Keep hands visible and make firm, confident movements when speaking (without exaggeration)

Open hands upwards; it is a sign of honesty; it means that you are not hiding anything

Open your hands sideways and show an open attitude.

Control involuntary hand movements

Uncontrolled movements

Unconsciously during an interview, presentation, or simply when talking to another person, our body may be making movements that denote nervousness. These movements can be.

Touching the hair

Frequent touching of the face

Twisting hands

Illogical movements in the chair

Tapping your foot on the floor

Twisting your tie

Pulling at the hem of your dress

Scratching your neck, ear, etc

These involuntary movements being extremely distracting and show that you lack confidence.

What can you do to control these behaviors?

Mindfulness concentration and breathing exercises help keep emotions in balance and improve the perception of reality; increasing optimism and positive thoughts help focus on the present time, reducing stress and anxiety levels.

Yoga is also an excellent help for concentration, body stretching, and relaxation.

These exercises facilitate communication with our inner self, helping us get to know ourselves better, removing fears, and removing mental blocks.

Silence and voice

Very long moments of pause show disinterest, boredom, and lack of knowledge of the subject

Speaking in a shallow tone of voice, almost inaudible, is a sign of fear and shyness

Talking with shouting; denotes arrogance and disrespect towards the other person

The appropriate tone of voice

· According to Albert Mehrabian, the tone of voice accentuates 38% of the message to be transmitted. Intonation and paralinguistic elements should continuously feed the harmonious circle of communication.

· Break the silence and try to ask open questions.

· Use a tone of voice according to the emphasis you want to give when speaking. Maintain the rhythm and avoid crutches.

· If for any cause the interviewer raises his voice, use a very soft and low tone of voice, and lean slightly toward him, being careful not to invade his space. "No need to shout..."

Tips for Impressed with your body language.

People who have difficulty communicating fluently and serenely generally convey insecurity and rejection. Some psychological tricks can help you relax and make a good impression.

Here are a few:

Assign yourself the value you have

Boost your self-esteem

Arrive on time to avoid anxiety and stress about being late. Arrive 5 minutes early or more

Dress appropriately for your surroundings; suit and tie (men) and discreet dress (women). Display an image, which reflects good grooming

Try to show a positive image. Our interlocutor consciously and unconsciously interprets the message that our body sends

Maintain eye contact, naturally

Smile from time to time without exaggerating

Wait for an indication to approach; if it is the case, shake hands vertically and firmly; avoid exerting force

Wait to be invited to sit down

If you are carrying an umbrella, raincoat, or another object in your hands, ask permission and place it to one side. Avoid sitting with things on you. Maintain an upright posture

Not to address the interviewer by their first name unless requested by the interviewer

Listen carefully

Highlight positive aspects of your background

Take your time and reflect before answering "dangerous" questions

Be motivated and interested in joining the company

Avoid invading the interviewer's space. Example: Remove your resume to verify a date. Admit that you don't remember it

Show yourself willing to take responsibility

An increase in the number of movements of the interviewer indicates that the interview is about to end

Chair movements and changes of position

Movement of documents

Wait for the interviewer to rise and then extend your hand in farewell

Say goodbye politely and express gratitude

The best strategy for attending a job interview should be based on self-confidence. Act naturally, without forcing the situation, as if you were talking to your best friend. Clarify doubts, empower yourself with knowledge and seek support from people who know the job position within the company and believe in you; that you are capable of successfully performing a task within the organization are the primary tools for success in a job interview.

By: Devan Ksan

You can consider to read short ebook with entry price by Darth Olsson Amazon ebook store: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09B5JDDPW

[mae-gi-writes]

The Fine Line | Juyeon (The Boyz Imagine)

Requested! Prince Juyeon! au x Royal Guard! Reader. 

In which you’re stuck with the most disorderly prince of Nuine, Juyeon. 

To anon: this fic took me so long to write and I am so sorry for being so late. BUT i hope that you like the end result and that I made your idea justice! Please do let me know :) <3 Stay safe and stay healthy <3 xx Thanks so much for requesting! 

Genre: fluff, crack-ish? Just all the good stuff. 

---------

"Your Highness ,no."

"Come on Y/N, don't you want to try a teeny tiny piece?"

"I said no."

"Ah come on! It's just a bite!"

"No."

Juyeon finally threw both hands in the air with exaggerated exasperation, "you're really no fun."

"I'm not on duty to have fun, if I might remind you," Y/N snapped, barely keeping hold of her neutral facade when the prince kept acting in such a foolish manner, definitely not like how royalty should behave and yet, the king had stuck her with their youngest son, Juyeon, who knew nothing of royal pride nor did he care about where his family came from.

That wasn't what unnerved her though. What did was the fact that Juyeon thought he was free to do as he pleased, whenever he pleased, and it didn't matter whether he was prince or not. That, in itself, was a motto than did not run smoothly in Y/N's mind.

She was a proud soldier, one that had climbed through the ranks at lightning speed because of her amazing dexterity and talent in wielding weapons as though they were water and she was mother nature.

But she hadn't signed up for this, a.k.a babysitting the most irresponsible royal family member of Nuine.

Except -- she kinda liked him.

And not just as a friend, or a mere man. 

She really liked him, and that only fuelled her hatred. Why would she like such an incompetent man in the first place? It must be the hormones! At least, that was what she had come to the conclusion, before realizing that there was much more to this little crush than she thought there was.

Juyeon sat on the ground of the royal garden, legs crossed as he observed her with alert eyes, "do you ever smile?"

Y/N didn't bother answering him. Though she had a huge urge to just roll her eyes.

"I don't get it. You were so happy and nice when we were young," his orbs were calculating, deep with thought as he surveyed her as though she was a book he couldn't quite decipher, "what happened to you?"

"Life happened. Not everyone gets to spend their days doing nothing like you."

The heat of his gaze did nothing to help, and she found strength in her feet to stop herself from squirming.

Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his crossed knees, the prince tilted his head in curiosity, no trace of offence whatsoever on his face despite her harsh reply.

"What?" She barked.

“Did I do something to you?” 

“Huh?” 

Juyeon tilted his head to the other side, “what did I do for you to be so pissed that you have this permanent grudge against me?” 

“I don’t have a grudge,” she huffed. 

“Okay so, why then?” 

"Just because, Juyeon. Not everything I do needs to have a reason.” 

He puffed up his cheeks like a blowfish, “Jeez, you’re really mean Y/N. I just wanted to be friendly, make conversation you know?” 

It might have been true that during their childhood, Y/N and Juyeon had been very close, practically attached at the hip even. Because of her father being appointed head of the Royal Guards serving the Majesty of Nuine, Y/N was always around roaming the halls and lifting weapons much too heavy for her spaghetti arms. But her interest had been there since her young age, her passion for fighting and the natural talent that came with weapon wielding a skill that her family had recognized very early on. 

So it was no surprise that she got enrolled in the nearest soldier academy despite her mother’s protests, following right into her father’s footsteps and gladly acing all midterm tests with flying colours. 

Everything changed one dark night, when her father died.

After that, Y/N had never really been the same. Did she blame the Royal Family for his death? Not really, it was in their job description after all.

But did she resent Juyeon for having lived a sheltered life all his life? Maybe so. 

It was selfish of her. Though, it wasn’t like she could control herself. 

A few days later found the pair in the middle of Nuine's street food market, with Juyeon craning his neck in curiosity over the multitudes of heads inclined towards a stall in particular.

Y/N tugged on his shirt sleeve, "your majesty, I think we should go."

"Oh but wait, this is the best part," Juyeon insisted without peeling his eyes away from the said cook behind the stall. As if on cue, the cook flipped what seemed to be an omelette pancake in the air.

The crowd gasped as the pancake flipped twice on itself, before landing securely on an already-prepared plate.

"Wow!" People burst into applause almost immediately while the chef bowed and extended the pancake to his most recent order.

"Alright," Y/N was already turning, one hand gripping Juyeon's arm in warning, "we've seen enough--"

She was tugged back instead as the prince moved forward until he reached the front of the stall, a crooked grin dancing across his lips as he peered at the cook from underneath his cloak.

"Can I have an omelette please?" Juyeon asked while ignoring the dagger eyes coming from Y/N's direction.

"Tomatoes? Olives? Onions? Ham?" As the cook listed all his ingredients, Juyeon merely nodded along and Y/N let out a trepid sigh. Her foot started tapping on the ground, impatient.

"Juyeon, you know what your mother said about--"

"Oh it's fine, Y/N. Live a little."

"But--"

"If anything happens -- and it won't," he hurriedly added as she opened her mouth to protest, "then I'll take full responsibility."

"And I will lose my job," she couldn't help but mutter under her breath.

------

And of course, considering Juyeon's luck, something was bound to happen.

It was only mid-afternoon -- a few hours after they had returned to the Kingdom, that the prince doubled over due to a stomach ache, coiling so bad that sweat broke over his forehead and his mouth was a tense, thin line of pain.

"I told you so," Y/N tutted while helping him maneuver his way into the bathroom, head practically buried into her neck as he groaned in pain.

"Y/N really? Right now?" he all but groaned against her.

She was about to find a snarky comeback, only for the prince to lurch himself straight at the toilet bowl. Disgusting noises echoed through the room and Y/N turned away from the scene briefly, her own stomach twisting into tight knots. 

Y/N was strong, yes. But have someone throw up in front of her? Even smelling that? No way. She could live without that.

When he was done heaving twice more, now sprawled across the toilet bowl as though it was the only thing keeping him grounded, Y/N crossed her arms over her chest as she judged him with a smug look. 

“See, this would never have happened if you had only listened--” 

Juyeon held up a hand, silencing her, “not now, please.” 

He really did look awful. His usually tan skin was the colour of chalk, fingers holding so tightly over the toilet lid that his knuckles flushed white. As he tried lifting himself from his position, his knees buckled and he would’ve face planted on the ground if not for Y/N’s arms quickly holding him up against her. 

Silently, she moved him back to his bedroom before tucking him underneath his covers, all the while avoiding his gaze that seemed to poke through her countenance with an emotion she couldn’t quite explain.

And then, came the tiniest murmur, “sorry.” 

Y/N paused for a moment. Her eyes fluttered to his face. 

Juyeon gazed back, hooded eyes seemingly genuine to apologize, “I mean it. I’m sorry.” 

She quickly swallowed, “it’s fine.” 

There was a soft pause in which Juyeon’s heavy breaths filled the air. It was suddenly warm in his room, maybe because the thick curtains were now drawn against the slow-setting sunset off the coast of Nuine’s edge, the light a vibrant golden slithering through the wine-coloured drapes. Feeling suddenly vulnerable and out of place, Y/N stood up from her crouching position at his side, causing the man’s eyes to flutter up at her movement. 

“Where are you going?” He asked as she made to move towards the door. When she glanced back, she couldn’t help but notice the confusion on his face as he blinked up at her like an over-sized man child. 

“I thought you’d like to rest, your Highness,” she replied stiffly. 

Another pause. 

Then, in the smallest voice possible, Juyeon mumbled out: 

“Could you--stay? With me?” 

She blinked, “stay? With--” 

And then the words made sense in her head. 

“Uh--” her cheeks coloured instantly at the thought of being so close to a man. Or maybe it was because it was Juyeon, or it was the heat! Right! Totally made sense that it was the heat. Her mouth moved before her brain did: “Sure.” 

What in the name of Nuine are you doing? Her brain screamed at her the moment she sat herself down on the bed’s edge, Juyeon’s body instantly curling up against hers with his head resting upon her lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

 “Uhm--” Y/N’s brain blanked out at the warmth of Juyeon’s head against her thigh, “what are you doing?” 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” as he spoke, his breath washed against her legs and goosebumps suddenly erupted along the skin there. She shifted uneasily, trying to force herself to stay still despite the fact that there was a full grown man lying down on her like a cat in need of affection.

“Can you pet me?”

His question threw her off guard. She blinked down at him, at the way his eyelashes were casting dark shadows over his cheeks, “What?” 

“My mom used to pet me whenever I was sick,” he murmured, one of his hands grabbing her own before placing it atop his own tuft of hair, “it used to calm me down, make me go sleep.”

“I’m your guard, Juyeon. Not your personal maid.” 

He let out a long sigh, then dropped her hand, “Fine then.” 

The silence that followed felt so thick and coated with an awkward kind of tension that she knew, without reading Juyeon’s expression, that he was currently mad at her. Trust him to be a little brat about it. Usually, Y/N wouldn’t even spare him a second glance. That kind of behaviour was one of a five year old child, one that she wasn’t going to tolerate.

But maybe it was the fact that he was being so dependent, maybe it was the closeness of their two physical bodies and the lack of distance between them. In any case, her heart melted slightly when she felt him shift in her lap and before she knew it, her hand had moved on its own to caress down the side of his skull.

The sight that left Juyeon’s mouth was laden with such satisfaction that it sent shivers running up her spine. He proceeded to nuzzle his nose right into her thighs, causing her to yelp slightly. 

His head snapped up, “what?” 

She recovered quickly though, snapping, “I want to make myself clear, Juyeon. I am not, and will not be, some kind of mistress that you bring to your quarters whenever you feel like it. I’m your Royal Guard.” 

“Jesus Y/N,” the prince turned so that he was facing upwards, gaze landing right onto hers without flinching, “Is that the image you have of me? That I take advantage of everything that moves?”

Suddenly embarrassed, she cleared her throat, “That’s not what I said. I just wanted to let you know.” 

“I know you’re not.” 

“Okay good. Just so that I make myself clear on where I stand.” 

“I wish you didn’t though,” his murmur was a low one, but still one that reached her ears and prompted her to ask, “What do you mean by that?”

Her question was only met with stubborn silence, which made sense, as she might see how Juyeon might have taken this as an offensive use of words. But she’d never been one to beat around the bush and had always been passive aggressive whenever Juyeon was concerned.

Once, she thought that she actually liked him.

And maybe she had. But instead of falling straight into that pool of romantic feeling, Y/N had just brushed it aside, already deciding for herself that it was never going to happen and that she shouldn’t keep her hopes up.

That was, in part, why she was used to being so cold and distant.

It was the only way she could protect herself, make the prince hate her.

She was about to let it go and change the subject, when his words pierced through the air like needles, “what is it about me that you can’t stand?” 

Her hand froze in mid-stroke, still entangled in his dark locks. 

His gaze was so intense she felt him burn holes through her skull.

Y/N cleared her throat. Looked away. 

“I--I don’t hate you,” she finally managed to whisper.

“I know you don’t,” Juyeon’s dark eyes were still surveying her every movement, “but can you be honest with me? What is it with me that you can’t stand? It’s almost like--I don’t know. You don’t even look at me when we talk. You barely acknowledge me sometimes, and you never try. With my brothers it’s like--it’s like you’re this completely different person. You talk to them, you laugh. Why don’t we have that? What did I do Y/N?” 

“You did nothing.” 

“If I did nothing, then why aren’t you looking at me?” 

It feels all too real suddenly; the heat radiating from Juyeon’s body, the intense emotion swimming through his dark brown swirls even though she couldn’t muster the courage to actually lock gazes with him, and the weight of his head on her lap as though they were blissfully in love and comfortable in each other’s presence. 

Her eyes quickly flitted to the golden descending rays dancing along the curtains, anything to keep her away from his probing stare, “I...” 

“What?” Juyeon pressed on, “tell me.” 

Pressing her lips into a thin line, she kept quiet. 

“Okay,” Juyeon sighed once more. Then without warning, he hoisted himself up before his face suddenly zoomed in on hers, so close that she couldn’t help but fall back against the headboard as he dipped his head down so that it was level with hers. 

Her heart speeding up, Y/N tried not to focus on the lack of distance between them. Though that was quite a hard feat, considering he was everywhere she looked.

Sitting there in Juyeon’s bed, with him trapping her from any sort of escape felt as though she was on the brink of a cliff being pressured to jump when she clearly had no intention to. But when she opened her mouth to protest, Juyeon’s eyes snapped up to hers in a way that told her words weren’t going to work, not anytime soon.

She swallowed thickly.

“It wouldn’t have bothered me if it was anyone else,” once he started, it was almost like the flow of words were suddenly too much for him to keep in. He kept on going, voice closing up with emotion, “but it’s you, Y/N. No matter how much I try not to think about it...I do. A lot. And I--I hate it, the way you don’t even seem to acknowledge my existence. I just--I just want to get along with you because I--” 

Before she knew what she was doing, one of her hands had shot out to yank his shirt, with him toppling over before she landed a kiss smack on his lips.

Juyeon stared, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights, jaw slack in naked surprise. 

“Wh--What was that?” he stuttered, a red blushing mess that she would’ve made fun of, if she hadn’t been trying to stop herself from being just as red as he was.

“Look Juyeon, I might hold some feelings for you,” Y/N said it outright though her cheeks were flaming ablaze with heat, “but I just hated you so much, after my dad died. I--I couldn’t look at you without thinking of his death and I tried really hard to loathe your guts. But then...” she shook her head, bit down onto her bottom lip as she chewed on the words that were about to fall from her mouth, “but then, I just--couldn’t. Hate you, I mean.” 

“S-So you--you’re telling me that you-- that you might -- that--” he was gesturing so wildly she thought he might faint from shock. Breathing out softly and pinching the bridge of his nose, he closed his eyes shut for a moment, as if to regain his balance. Then, he opened them once more, “you like me. But you hate me.” 

“Tried to,” she corrected him.

“That--That doesn’t make any sense, Y/N.” 

“Yes it does! I liked you, then I hated you. And then I hated that I liked you because I just couldn’t hate you--”  His hands were suddenly at her hips, “Enough talk,” and no sooner had she tried figuring out what that meant that the young man was dragging her over to his lap before his mouth pressed down onto hers in a passionate kiss. 

Y/N tensed for a few seconds, before her body slowly melted in his embrace as his mouth moved slowly over her own, a sinuous dance of lower lip against her upper ones while his arms tightened their hold around her waist. She gasped softly at the feeling of his hard frame against her curves, causing the prince’s mouth to tilt up in a smirk as he progressed the intensity of his kisses. Mouth chasing her own with a hunger she had never been victim to, one of Juyeon’s hands didn’t hesitate to ghost up her arm, along the back of her neck, to mess up her tight ponytail so that her dark hair fell around her shoulders like a curtain. 

There was a soft throaty rumble that signalled his approval of this newfound hairstyle, before he slanted his lips even further by tilting his head. Kissed her deeper, with longer strokes and with his tongue slowly introducing itself into her mouth. It was almost like she was being consumed by his entire being, her breath being taken away every time she tried to as she drowned into Juyeon’s ocean of feelings that seemed to emanate in the form of every kiss, every touch, every line of his body that aligned with hers and set fire to her skin.

Only when her back met with the soft foam of the mattress that realization trickled through her mind like icy water. Unlatching their lips with a soft ‘pop’ and scrambling back against the headboard, she looked up, right into Juyeon’s hungry, predatory gaze, one that swam with full-fledged desire, a thirst that she had never seen on the young prince’s face before.

“Juyeon?” her whisper was breathless, and she felt like slapping herself for sounding so needy. 

“No,” he let out a soft growl, leaning over her body with his arms settling on either side of her head. HIs mouth started a slow, sensual path of kisses that trailed up her neck, leaving fireworks exploding behind her eyelids, “you’re not talking. You’re not telling me off, not now. Not tonight,” he nipped at a small patch of skin right under her jaw and the girl squirmed, desire rippling through her veins and shooting right down south. It didn’t help that every inch of his muscular frame was pressed against hers as though demanding her to beg for what he could give her.

“Please tell me you’re not playing around,” came Y/N’s soft spoken murmur. She hoped that he didn’t hear it. But it was Juyeon, and Juyeon heard everything that concerned him.

“I wouldn’t do this with anyone else, Y/N,” his eyes locked onto hers and she saw his gaze brimming with a vulnerability, a tenderness that shook her to her core and made her heart flip upside down, “you of all people should know that.” 

“So you like me?” she hated how squeaky her voice sounded. He only let out the softest of chuckles, before he leant down to peck her on the mouth, “yes. Yes Y/N. I kinda like you a whole damn lot.” 

[celestialtitania]

whatever it is (whatever it isn't)

A big thank you to my lovely betas @anabielvriskamars and @kellynicole515! Read it on AO3 or FFN.

Norman watches Emma play with Phil and Shery, a small smile growing on his face as he waits for his coffee to brew. He knew her memories were wiped away, but at the core she was still the same Emma he had always known.

The one always ready to make a ruckus with the kids. Naïve but determined. Strong but pure. He chuckles as the kids give her a big hug before rushing to get to school on time.

"Come on," he beckons Emma. "You need to eat, too." She gives him a sheepish grin as she sits next to him on the table, forgoing the coffee for some orange juice. He hands her a plate of toast, marmalade already applied just how she likes it and tells her to eat.

She wrinkles her nose, putting the plate back down on the table. "Um, thanks Norman. I don't really like the taste of marmalade though," she sighs. "But wasting food is even worse," she sighs at the toast again.

Ray rolls his eyes at her as he sets down his own plate of toast. "You hate marmalade that much?"

Emma nods emphatically, "It's bitter and feels leathery." She gingerly pokes at the toast, looking as though all of her energy had been sucked away.

Norman frowns at her words but Ray just hums. "You're alright with butter?" She blinks as he gestures towards his plate of toast. Emma's face brightens as she happily swaps the two plates and begins to eagerly eat the breakfast Ray had prepared.

Norman sits there feeling quite confused. Emma had always preferred marmalade over something as plain as butter. He's about to ask when it occurs to him. The products must taste different from the demon and human worlds; after all, they were prepared differently. Mystery solved, Norman basks in joy at having the chance to speak with Emma and Ray without an imminent threat out to get them. Each and every moment was precious now, regardless. Norman has been through too much to ever think otherwise.

After breakfast, they go with Emma to visit her Gramps, the old man who had found her and taken her in two years ago. As they walk through the town, Norman expects to see Emma jumping excitedly or wanting to frolic in the snow. She does neither and the only time she lets out her exuberant nature is when Gramps opens the door.

The old man is clearly delighted to see her, just as much as she is to see him. Another thing about Emma that will never change. She has a way of drawing people to her wherever she goes. He'd seen it countless times, just her words and compassion changing enemies into friends, back in the Demon World.

They talk while Norman and Ray quietly sit and listen. They appear to have several inside jokes but that's only to be expected after living alone together for two years. At the end of their visit, Emma gives the old man a big hug before he takes Norman and Ray aside to thank them.

"She was alone when I met her. I probably wouldn't have gotten through my grief without her. You boys take care of her now, you hear me?"

Norman practically glows as he assures the man that he would do his very best to keep her safe and happy. Beside him, Ray appears thoughtful before voicing his own thoughts.

"Emma likes to take care of herself and she's still figuring out what makes her happy, but we'll always be there for her when she needs us," he says seriously. Norman thought that was a simple answer, especially when they had firsthand knowledge of what made Emma happy.

But the old man looks rather pleased as he laughs out loud. "Well said," he claps both boys on the back before he leaves them with Emma. The trio decide to take a look around the market before heading back home. Emma marvels at the sights but doesn't seem at all eager to purchase things. He'd expected Emma to point out all the things, the other kids would love.

Norman supposes it would be hard to buy things for them when she doesn't fully know their tastes anymore. Not that he would let something like that stop him from making sure Emma was having a good time.

His eyes light up as he spots a plush toy stall. He has an idea which he thinks is absolutely brilliant and was sure to put a smile on Emma's face. He separates from Emma and Ray, brushing off their questions and promising to catch up with them in just a moment.

Puzzled, they agree heading over to one of the food stalls. Norman smiles as he wonders why the idea never struck him before. Even if she didn't remember wanting to, the desire had to come from somewhere.

He picks the best quality the shop has before paying and rushing out of the store. He taps Emma on the shoulder before holding the plush in front of his face. Slowly, he lowers it to see her surprised expression.

"For you," he hands the plush giraffe to her waiting expectantly to see her smile joyously. Emma does smile but it's a confused one. She thanks him as she stares at the giraffe.

"Are you trying to tell me that I'm short?" She asks him after a moment. Norman tilts his head and asks her to explain her thought process.

"You know," she waves the giraffe around. "You're much taller than I am. Is this your way of saying you feel like a giraffe next to me?" She's frowning at him but her eyes show her amusement.

He can't help it. He throws his head back and laughs because that did sound like the sort of thing he would do. Emma tries not to but she's snickering with him while Ray rolls his eyes in the background.

Once they've caught their breath, Norman shakes his head. "No, I mean, I know it isn't big enough to ride but it's still cute right?"

Emma looks at him blankly, so Norman expands on his point. "Uh, some of the younger kids were saying that they wanted to ride a giraffe one day so I thought maybe you would too?" It sounds weak, even to his own ears but Norman didn't want to make Emma feel subconscious about not remembering the past.

Emma hums in response. "Ahh, sorry Norman," she apologizes sincerely. "It's a nice gesture but I'm not too interested in riding a giraffe. They're kinda weird looking, don't you think?" She giggles but Norman is frozen.

"But it's a giraffe," he repeats helplessly. Emma looks over at Ray who simply sighs and walks over to Norman, who is still asking how Emma could possibly dislike giraffes. Ray tries to get Norman to stop talking but something in Emma's expression changes.

"Oh, I must have used to like giraffes, that's it right?" Ray winces as Norman is forced to nod, there was no way to lie to Emma's face. "But now I don't. That must hurt you."

Norman nods again, an uncomfortable feeling growing in his stomach. Emma has never looked at him like this before and it hurts.

Norman opens his mouth to try and speak but Emma keeps talking before he can get even a syllable out.

"I thought you said it was okay that I was different from who I used to be," Emma asks, the expression on her face is unreadable but Norman can hear the quiver in her voice.

Norman winces as he shakes his head. He's reaching out, trying to form a physical connection to Emma but she steps back, a small frown beginning to appear on her face. "Were you just lying or did you think there wouldn't be a difference to begin with?"

Norman flinches, the words he'd said to Emma at their reunion coming back to him. He'd known she wouldn't be the same naïve and reckless girl. He'd prepared himself for someone who was more cautious and quiet.

"It's the little things," comes spilling out, unintentionally but it's enough to give Emma pause. She raises an eyebrow, clearly expecting him to explain himself. Norman swallows hard as he tries to come up with a way to tell her how he felt without hurting her.

"He was in love with you," Ray says bluntly, making Norman gape in shock. Emma's jaw drops as she turns to stare at Norman with wide eyes. Norman closes his eyes, as the pit in his stomach grows larger while mentally cursing Ray. But he also knows there was no other way to explain how he was feeling.

"You're still Emma," he reassures her. "You carry love and kindness in spades, especially for your family. You're bright and optimistic and that's the Emma that I fell in love with. It really doesn't matter how much you've changed to me because at the core, you're still Emma. It's just...we used to be best friends. I knew Emma better than I know myself."

Here Norman pauses to take a breath and try to decipher Emma's reaction. She still looks surprised but he can't figure out what she's thinking. Instead, he presses on.

"For the longest time, the only thing I could rely on was my brain. I've always known the right path to take, I can trust my knowledge. But now...you're still Emma but it's like I hardly know you. I know why that is but I still have trouble accepting that, of all people, I don't know things like your favourite flower or something." Norman flails an arm to emphasize his feelings.

Emma is biting her lip, seemingly deep in thought while a glance at Ray shows him studying the ground with intense fascination.

"It's not that I don't want to learn more about the new you, because I do! It's just become a habit to think I know what Emma loves and when I'm proven wrong, it's like the world has flipped on its head for me."

Norman bows his head, waiting for either Ray or Emma to speak now that his confession is over. They both remain silent. Finally, he looks up in exasperation.

Emma is staring up at the sky, looking completely lost while Ray is trying his hardest not to laugh.

"Guys?" Norman asks hesitantly and the flood gates open. Emma is sighing at him loudly while Ray laughs so hard he can't breathe.

"Stupid Norman," Ray chortles while Emma nods her head in agreement. While Norman gives them an affronted look, Emma shakes her head.

"Norman, you've already done the hard part," she finally says to him.

"What," Norman asks blankly; the conversation was going in a direction he didn't expect and he was left completely lost.

"As far as you're concerned, it's just confusing that the little things have changed right? Not that you wish the other Emma was here instead?"

Norman's eyes widen because that was a question which he has never even considered. He anxiously thrums his fingers on his leg, to ground himself while trying his best to answer honestly. "I won't lie and say that I don't miss the Emma I grew up with, but I appreciate her sacrifice. I meant it when I said that the best thing was for me to know you were happy and safe. That's all I've ever wanted for Emma."

"The little things that give you so much trouble? They would've been different, regardless. People's tastes change y'know and you've been separated from Emma for four years now," Ray rolls his eyes at Norman. Norman winces because those four years of separation weren't something he liked to think about.

"Maybe it's the way you're going about it? You want to think of me as the same but different at the same time," Emma muses, putting a finger on her chin as she turns to Ray.

"Huh?" Norman isn't even going to pretend he has any idea where this conversation is going.

Ray nods, "Norman is kind of stupid like that, he won't get it any other way."

Emma grins before sticking her hand out towards him. Norman stares at it, utterly baffled.

"Hi, I'm Emma!" Her eyes flick meaningfully towards her outstretched hand as she smiles beatifically at him.

"I know who you are?" Norman questions, eyes darting between Emma and Ray. Ray gives him a look, practically ordering him to play along so Norman does, quickly shaking Emma's hand and introducing himself.

"Get to know me from scratch," Emma tells him, leaving no room for argument. "Then those little things won't come as a surprise." She looks down, letting out a small laugh. "We'll kind of be on the same playing field that way."

That sends a shock through his system. Emma was working so hard to get to know all of them again, that included the little things which were second nature for those who had grown up together. She was struggling just as much as he was.

Norman smiles. "It's nice to meet you!" He chirps excitedly, warmth spreading through him at Emma's grateful look. Norman slings his arms around his two best friends. "I love you both," he tells them firmly. "Emma is new but I have no idea what I'd be doing without you, Ray."

Emma let out a startled laugh as Ray tries to shove Norman away while he hangs on stubbornly. Soon enough all three of them are laughing like there was no tomorrow.

In between laughs, they catch each other's eyes and Norman is content with the knowledge that things will be better from here on out.

@tpnfanworks

[bi-writes]

notorious: reboot — chapter eight  genesis

This is our genesis, and ours only; once we start this chapter, what will end it?

type: series, alternate universe detail: mob!tom word count: 12.7k warnings: mature language and themes, mature sexual and nsfw content included in this chapter (oral fem!receiving, unprotected sexual content, overstimulation, cum play) series masterlist music playlist by mood, curated just for notorious

There were many things you could tell about a person from looking at their hands. They could be dirty or clean, adorned with jewels or nothing at all, nails painted or chipped or bare, cut or bruised or scratched or completely, utterly soft. Sometimes they wore wedding rings, sometimes they didn’t, sometimes they had ink circling around their fingers. Hands were interesting storytellers, and oftentimes you found yourself finding more about someone from the way their hands were kept rather than listening to them speak. Sometimes people lied. Their hands couldn’t lie, all they could do was simply be.  

It was so quiet here. You could barely see anything in the darkness, but there was a sliver of light coming from the candle in the far corner of the room. The wax had melted almost all the way, the wicker barely lit, but it was enough that you could still see clearly what was beside you, who was beside you.

Your head was propped up on a soft pillow, but Tom’s hand was beside it, palm flat against the bed, and you could hear his gentle breathing. You brought your hand up to trace Tom’s knuckles, which were slightly split. They had bled, you could tell that much, and there were yellow and purple bruises dotting the dry, cracked skin there. His nails were well groomed, but you could tell he picked at them because of how his cuticles were ripped a bit, the edges of his nails a bit rugged.

Hands of a killer. So why doesn’t it hurt when he touches me with them?

You turned his hand over, following the callous along his palms. Blistering, dry, and used, Tom’s hands were a reflection of the dirty business you both had chosen to run in. It didn’t matter where you were in this business, it took something from each and every being inside of it. You and Tom were young, but you had been thrust into a world of secrecy and anarchy where your worth was determined by nothing more than where you stood in a line of hundreds, blanketed by tradition, ritual, and kings without mercy.

You had seen too much, but it was enough that you were numb inside at times. Death did nothing to you any longer. Blood was nothing but a stain, and guns were just accessories. Judges, cops, and lawyers were the men and women on your payroll, and funding amateur killers was just a part of your work. Love was a luxury, children became heirs, and money was your lifeline. One mistake could cost you your head, one wrong move could dismantle your operations, and without a throne to sit on, there was no need for you except to bleed you dry of what you had and to leave you for the earth to swallow whole.

Daughters become enemies.

Only ruthless, cold individuals that were truly dead inside could sit on thrones made of bones. You had to be willing to do anything to put the crown on, and even then, it could slip right off of your head in a moment.  

Rivals become lovers.

You had never known anything else. You had never tried to be anything else. Your mother loved you, but she didn’t try and take you away from this life; she had thrust you into the world headfirst, and she made you who you were.  

Sweet faces become killers. She made you a killer.

You wondered who had made Tom. Staring at the soft tufts of curls on his head, you wondered who had taught him to hold a gun, to point it at his target, and to not hesitate pulling the trigger.

You wondered what kind of burdens he carried on those broad shoulders of his. You wondered what hid between the curves of his muscles, what truly defined the scars along his back, and what kind of blood had been spilled against those crackling knuckles of his. You wondered who had taken the light inside of the little boy he had once been and crushed it. All kings and queens had lights inside of them once, even you.

We lose them, and then we spend forever trying to find it inside of others because of what is broken inside of ourselves.

There was a map on his skin. From the tips of his fingers to his toes, Tom had a map. Scars and the occasional tattoo, indentations and uneven patches of skin, defined muscles that ached and stretched and breathed. Some people were meant to be kings, and Tom was one of them, but there was a part of you that wished that Tom had never seen the metal of a gun or the inside of someone’s body or the way life left someone’s body slow, then quickly all at once.  

I wish you never knew what it looked like when there were stars in their eyes, right before they saw a vast nothingness.

There were people inside of you, souls that wanted to be discovered, but you and Tom had buried them so deep that neither of you knew who they were anymore. Tom had mentioned once that he used to watch movies until his eyes were red from the glare of the television screen. He mentioned once that he had felt the vibrations from dancers on a stage, the echo of voices across the emptiness of a theatre, and he mentioned once that there had been light inside of him once when there were spotlights warming up that single spot reserved onstage.

Tom would never know that little boy. Tom would never see what that little boy could become, and he would never get to tell him that he was meant for so much more than this dirty, dirty business. There were songs inside of him, but he would never get to sing them, and for that, a part of you hated whoever had taught Tom to be who he was. They had robbed Tom of every good thing he could’ve been, and now here he was, with scars on his hands, cuts along his back, and a light inside of him that would never, ever be allowed to illuminate whatever soul was buried underneath all of the death and destruction he had built up for so long.

Boys become assassins, and girls become paper dolls.

You wondered if he would hate your mother for the same reasons.

You leaned over and kissed Tom’s forehead before slipping out of bed. You opened the door to your bedroom, going into the kitchen. You were at your apartment this time, and Tom had come with you that night, and he simply didn’t want to leave.

You and Tom had been through hell hours before, but there was something different between you now. There were no secrets between you, and now, it felt strange. For so long, you and Tom had been pretending, lying to each other and falling for each other at the same time.

One and the same.

It was still dark outside. The city lights glowed at night, so bright and awake even in the dead hours of night, and that was how it always was.

You noticed something by the door. There was a white envelope on the floor, as if someone had slipped it underneath the door to get it to you. You bent down and picked up the envelope, turning it over in your hands. The envelope was meant to be white, but it had yellowed from age, and it was dry and crinkly in your hands. There was no return address, just a scribbling on the back in handwriting you thought you recognized but couldn’t decipher.

my baby is all the back read.

You slipped your finger into the opening, ripping the envelope open. Inside was a letter, written on blank copy paper. It was written in scribbly black ink, smeared occasionally, as if it had been written in a rush. You looked around, to see if anyone was around, because it felt as if you were being watched. The apartment was quiet, and there was nothing around you.

You looked back down at the letter, opening it up all the way, smoothing out the folds.

To the only love I’ve ever known,

I don’t know when you’re going to be given this letter. I don’t know if you’ll ever receive it, but if I never write this, then there is a chance that you will never know the truth. I can’t leave this place knowing you might always be kept in the dark.

There is too much I’m going to miss. I tried to do right by you all these years, but now I fear perhaps I’ve just given your father the weapon he’s always needed. He has no ambition, none at all, to do right by his men. Your father is a coward, and he always will be. He takes advantage of even the most precious things in his life, and he has neglected you since the day you were born.

There is going to be a day when he needs you. There is going to be a day when your father will not be able to say no to you, and that day I fear more than anything else in this world, even death. I tried to give you the tools you would need to succeed, but I fear that my time has run out to finish the difficult job I started with you. I’m not finished. I want to keep doing more for you, but my time is running out, and even writing this letter is wasting what little I have left, but I need you to know the truth.

Your father will never understand what it takes to run this kingdom he’s built. I have tried for years to get him to listen to me, but anything I say, he ignores. One day, it’s going to get him killed, but that is the least of my worries. My worry is what comes after, what continues after your father is gone. As much as he wants to pretend it isn’t true, you are going to be the one sitting at the desk. You will be the one left when the dust settles.

I dreamed of being able to sit there myself. When I lived in New York, I was used to being the princess. After marrying your father, I had to get used to being what was left behind. My hatred for him grows every single day, and if I had it in me, I would be done with him. It would be him instead of me, but I’m not meant for those kinds of things. It isn’t in me, and I don’t think I’ve ever been meant for this kind of life. I hate myself for getting involved, and even more, I hate myself for bringing the most beautiful angel into this life.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry I did this to you. I should’ve left, I always knew I should’ve left. I should’ve taken the only good thing to ever happen to me and dragged her far, far away.

I planned on letting you live a normal life. Your father never wanted you to follow in his footsteps, and I planned on letting you grow and learn and go to college and live the normal life that I always dreamed for you, but you were my only hope. You were the only weapon I had against your father, and I’m sorry. What I did was selfish.

I made you like this because I wanted you to be better than him. I wanted you to be better than all of them. Everyone in this world is lonely, ugly on the inside and out, and incredibly stupid. They lack all the good qualities that soldiers should have, because that is what living in this hell is like. You will always be at war, and I wanted you to always have the tools to survive in the disgusting world that these men have built for us.

I needed you to be better.

Your father tonight is going to tell you that I left. You are going to find the drawers of my clothes empty, you are going to find most of my things gone, and you will never see me again. He’s going to tell you that I went far away, perhaps, maybe even to the fucking moon. Your father is going to tell you a lot of things tonight.

All of them will be lies.

Your father is going to kill me tonight, and I’m going to let him, because if I don’t, you will never become who I need you to be. I’m being selfish again. I fear I might hate him more than I love you.

Don’t trust him. Ever. Even if he seems like he is on your side. He will never learn until it’s too late, and by then, nothing will be able to save him. It’s you, and it will always be you, and I hope he dies knowing it.

He doesn’t deserve you. And he never has. He never will.

I love you more than anything in this world.

mama

You put the letter down slowly, running your hands through your tangled hair. Your hands were shaking a bit, and you felt like there was something stuck in your throat, making it hard to breathe.  

She made your bed. Now you have to lay in it.

You picked up the letter again and went into the bedroom. Tom was awake, sitting up against the headboard, an unlit cigarette in his mouth.

“Was wondering where you went,” Tom said lowly, striking a match to light the cancer stick. You came towards the bed slowly, still holding the letter, and Tom finally looked at you, standing there with a strange look in your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“This…this came. Someone slid it…u-under the door,” you said softly, putting the letter onto the bed. Tom switched the lamp on, and he picked up the paper, holding it in front of him. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and let out a slow breath, his eyes running over the page. The silence was killing you.

“You said your mum disappeared,” Tom said finally, tapping off a bit of ash.  

“That’s…that’s what my dad told me,” you whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed. “It’s why I left New York. Why I left…Ri.”

It changed everything. It changed me.

“Your mum says otherwise,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes. “Is this real? Do you believe this? I mean…who would just put this under the bloody door? How could this just appear on your doorstep? Timing is right suspicious, don’t you think?”

“It’s my mom’s handwriting, Tom, I’d know,” you said defiantly, taking the letter back. You folded it up again, putting it into the bedside drawer. You slid back into bed, scooting close to Tom. He put his arm around you, letting you lay your head on his chest. You were silent again, the room was silent again, and it was enough time for you to have a single tear falling down the length of your cheek, your whole body feeling cold all over.

“Your father’s a lying twat,” Tom scoffed, and you stared off into the distance.

“He killed…my mom,” you said weakly, and Tom stubbed the cigarette out, putting a hand to your head and kissing your forehead. It was tender, but it was not warm enough to stop the tears that followed quickly behind, dropping silently onto the pillow. “H-He killed her, Tommy.”

And she killed me.

You weren’t sure how to feel about the letter. Your father had told you your mother had left, that she was gone, and even though you knew that those kind of antics could never be that of your mother, you believed him, or at least you forced yourself to believe him.  

Because you weren’t ready to face any other alternative.

You had cried over her, mourned over her, and then you had let her go. Part of the coldness of your personality was trying to steel yourself from losing anyone else. You distanced yourself from Mariposa after, changing your number and refusing to go back, making it your mission to focus all of your pent-up anger and aggression and sadness to becoming whatever kind of heiress your father needed you to be.  

Nothing in that letter was really a surprise to you, but it felt like a slap on your face knowing it came from her. Your mother had truly seen through every single lie, and just like your father, she had used you to do her bidding. She made you feel like she was on your side because she needed you to be somebody for her. A secret weapon, a key hidden under a mat, an iron sword that had rusted over and been long forgotten. She had been waiting for the perfect moment to polish you clean, reveal you to the world, and she stepped face-first into death to do it.

She can call it whatever she likes. She can call me a savior, a soldier, a daughter. I suppose mothers use their daughters just the same; this business rubs off on even those we admire. On those that we think we love.

“He made plans with you, yeah?” Tom asked gently. You blinked, coming out of your thoughts. “Plans for Saturday night, didn’t he?”

You nodded slowly, “yes. We made plans for…how it would go, yes.”

Tom smacked his lips a bit, clenching his jaw. “You’re going to tell me every detail, y/n. Don’t leave anything out, no matter how small or insignificant you think it is. I have a feeling your father is going to fuck the both of us over. And we’re not letting that happen, yeah?”

Has it rubbed off on you, Tom?

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Okay.”

Will you use me just the same?

Tom moved your head, making you look at him.

“You and I, love,” he murmured, and you nodded again, putting your hands over his. You shared a tender kiss, and you pulled away with a smile on your face. The lack of distance made you warm all over. Tom knew everything. There was nothing black between you, nothing holding you both down. You had been so lost before, and there was an uncertainty that weighed inside of you. You weren’t sure how to deal with your father, to deal with whatever feelings had grown in you, and although you had worn a straight face, there had been nothing but panic in you.

There was nothing to be afraid of anymore. Tom had you, closer than he ever had you before, and you knew he wouldn’t let go. Tom was going to take care of you, and you had to trust that, because otherwise, you were as dead as you were the day before.

“You and I, Tommy,” you said softly, and skin against skin, you knew he had you, because you could feel the tenderness in his touch. There was nothing to fear anymore. There was nothing worry about.  

Because I am yours. And you are mine.

You met his eyes in the mirror. He looked incredibly handsome, freshly showered and smelling sweet, a beautiful suit on him. He was wearing black tonight to match you, and he ditched the tie and unbuttoned his dress shirt underneath, just enough to see a glimpse at the chain he was wearing. You remembered when you and Mariposa used to get ready like this, smiling at each other in the mirror, but now it was Tom, and he wasn’t shying away from checking you out. He was adjusting the watch around his wrist, his dark eyes running up and down your figure.

“You should close your mouth, baby,” you said softly as you smoothed out the front of your dress. “You’ll catch flies.”

Tom chuckled lowly, shaking his head, and you hiked up the skirt of your dress to slip your thigh holster on. He clenched his jaw at that, and he couldn’t help himself. He came close to you, pressed up against you from behind, and you bit back a smile as he smoothed a hand down your back, over the curve of your hips.

God, who said she was allowed to look like this?

“Jesus, fuck,” Tom muttered, watching you secure the gun underneath your dress. “Couldn’t get any more beautiful, and then you pull shit like this.”

“Shut up,” you laughed a bit, putting your dress back down, much to his dismay. “Now you’re just saying things because you want something.”

The word was in the air, but Tom pretended not to see it. He liked the chase. He had never had to chase anyone before, but it was fun. Having you so close yet so far away made him ache all over, but the look in your eyes told him it would be worth it.

Tom grinned at you in the mirror, “of course not, love…never. I’m simply commenting on how absolutely mad you drive me when you do things like this. If it happens to turn you on…” Your smile broke out as he kissed the side of your neck, “perhaps it’s just a bonus.”

You let Tom tilt your head to the side more, let him kiss the skin there. There was something possessive about it, and after a few minutes of wet teasing with hungry kisses, you pushed Tom off of you and grabbed your jacket, laughing to yourself.

Tom guided you to the elevator of your building, and he kept a hand on the small of your back as you walked. He always kept a hand on you now, a sweet, small detail that you appreciated. You both got into the back of the car he ordered, and while you sat on opposite ends, he had a hand on your knee as he looked out the window.

You remembered meeting Tom here. As he helped you out of the car, the familiar doorman gave you and Tom a nod as you passed the line. Tom went for your hand this time, and you looked down in surprise as he intertwined your fingers. You bit back the smile on your face as he led you by the hand. His touch was warm. You liked this, more than you thought you would.

People had always talked about you being Tom’s girl, but the label always made you spit at them. You had a name, and you expected them to use it. You didn’t need to be behind a man for it to mean something, for you to matter, and you made that clear from the beginning. Tom liked that, he knew from the start that he adored your independence. It was attractive and fresh, and for once, a woman with personality had stood up to him, and she was absolutely full of fire. It was one of the reasons he fell for you so fast and so hard. You were beautiful like that, always steady on two feet.

A queen, Tom had thought to himself. A righteous queen, and her eyes are hungry, just like mine.

You noticed Mariposa wasn’t at the table. Harrison was sitting there, and he looked incomplete without Mariposa beside him. He looked on edge, staring out into nothing, and he was bouncing one of his legs impatiently.  

“Harrison,” you greeted him as Tom shooed his brothers to the side for room to sit in the booth. “Where’s Ri?”

Harrison sniffed a bit, shaking his head, “don’t know. She was supposed to be here a few minutes ago,” is all he answered. You let go of Tom’s hand, and at that, his head turned to you.

“I’m going to go take a lap, yeah?” You assured them. Tom tugged you back with a hand on your wrist, and you were surprised when he put both hands on your face, capturing you in a kiss that caught you off guard. The boys at the table shifted nervously as you kissed, even Tom’s men watching intently as you embraced without shame. Eyes closed, hands in your hair, Tom had you in just a few tender kisses, lowering yourself to sit beside him to give him a better angle. Harrison smirked a bit as he watched, shaking his head as Tom licked over your bottom lip dramatically. Tom pulled away casually to light a cigarette, letting you go finally, and you sat there dumbfounded for a moment, taking deep breaths as you fought the smiling growing on you.

“Be careful,” is all he said, his face unbothered as he reached over and took a sip of Harrison’s drink. You stood up on two feet again and smoothed out the front of your dress, avoiding the knowing looks from Tom’s brothers.

You left the table to make your way around dancing, sweaty bodies and through flashing lights. You were looking every which way for her curls. Maybe she got held up at the bar, or there was a line for the ladies room.  

That’s a stupid thought. There are no lines for Holland girls.

You spotted her curls finally, done up in a glamorous bun, strands of her dark ringlets falling to frame her pretty face. She had her legs crossed, showing off the sparkling heels she always wore. You knew they were hers by the scuff at the bottom of the heel. She had been wearing the same stilettos for months, a gift from Harrison, and she never wore anything else, despite having a closet full of shoes. You followed the curve of her bare arm, adorned with a few golden bracelets and her fingers decorated with rings to match. Her nails were long and manicured, a deep red color that she always preferred. She had a fierce smile on her face, fluttering her long lashes as she spoke to whoever was across from her, and you could tell she wasn’t flirting by the way she sat up straight.  

Mariposa had two ways of talking to men. The first way was distracting them, and she would twist her curls around her finger and lean forward so they could peek down the neckline of her top. She was beautiful, and they would always stare, and she would always get what she wanted. This time, she still had her jacket on over her corset top, and she was talking, her eyes narrowed and her posture straight and tall to convey her confident nature. She was saying something that was meaningful, and whoever was across from her needed to listen to whatever she had to say.

You came closer, and when she noticed you, her entire face fell, and she paled a bit. You stood at the end of the table, and you blinked when you noticed who was sitting across from her. You almost pulled the gun out from under your dress, but laughing voices from the table over reminded you where you were. There was nothing you could do but hope the candle on the table caught the sleeve of suit on fire and consumed his deranged soul in a fiery death.

“y/n—” Mariposa tried to explain, but you caught her off.

“Johnny boy,” a bitter smile grew on your face. “Mmm…you love being in places you don’t belong, huh?”

His eyes brightened a bit when he saw you. He looked older, much older than you last saw him. His face had sunken a bit, maybe a few more wrinkles there. His eyes were still bright and green and warm, and his hair had darkened just a bit from the dirty blonde it used to be. He still kept his hair a bit greasy and slicked back, and he still wore suits that were too big for him, a watch you knew he couldn’t afford, and a smile on his face that didn’t belong there.

Giovanni was the Sicilian man your father always wanted you to end up with. You called him Johnny to insult him, because you always knew how much he hated being American, and he preferred being called by his name in Italian. You refused him that, always calling him “Johnny baby, Johnny boy,” and each time making him angrier than it had the time before. He didn’t even know how to speak Italian. He was always trying to impress those above him, and your father was the man whose ass he kissed most frequently.

When he should’ve been kissing yours.

Your fears about an arranged marriage were valid. When your father told you the news about your mother and you had hurried back to California, mourning your mother wasn’t the only thing your father expected of you. When you had left for New York, your father knew you as someone that liked to get in trouble but would fall in line if he needed you to be. He had no idea what New York had done to you.

You knocked on your father’s study door, adjusting the leather jacket over your blouse. When you heard his voice, you came in, your boots sounding on the creaking wooden floorboards of the old house, an awkward sound in the deep silence that surrounded the walls of his office. You stood there frozen as the door closed behind you.

Your father was standing up from his seat behind the desk, De Luca beside him, and his lackeys lined up along the walls. Giovanni stood there in front of the desk, his own father holding him there with a hand on his shoulder. You brushed your hair back a bit, coming forward to stand in front of the desk.

“What’s going on, daddy?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. “You called for me.”

“Well, y/n…things have been complicated in business lately,” your father explained, gesturing big with his hands. “We lost 20% of the ports in Italy because of some of the raids, and Giovanni’s father has generously agreed to get to work on acquiring the land back again on a few conditions.”

“That’s great,” you smiled bitterly. “What does that have to do with me?”

The men in the room shifted a bit, and you looked around at them all, turning back to your father when you had read the room enough.

“Oh, daddy,” you let out a breath. “No, you didn’t.”

“You know, y/n, there are things we do for business that make—”

“20%?” You scoffed. “That’s what you value the rest of my fucking life? My life is worth 20% of your Italian coast, yeah?”

“y/n—” Your father was mortified. He had never heard you speak like that, nor talk back to him like that. here were a lot of things you learned how to do in New York. One of those things had been to use your voice. You weren’t a little girl anymore, and you were adamant on standing up to anyone that got in the way of your interests.

Giovanni? That was against your interests.

“No,” you interrupted him. “Find another way.”

“There is no other way,” your father growled. “I made my deal, now it’s your turn, y/n.”

“y/n, c’mon, I’ve known you as long as I can remember,” Giovanni spoke up, coming close to you. He even had the audacity to put his arm around your waist, pulling you towards him. You looked up at him, your mouth opening in disbelief, and you felt his fingertips digging into your back, slipping under the fabric of your jacket. “It wouldn’t be so bad, yeah? Can’t say you haven’t thought about it.”

He was grinning, like he had won something, and you scoffed a bit.

“You’re right, Johnny boy, I have thought about this,” you leaned forward a bit, your face close to his. You moved your arm around to put your hand over his on your back, and you smiled sweetly at him before grabbing onto his wrist and twisting his arm enough to hear something crack in it as you pried him off of you.

Giovanni screamed loudly, and your father put a hand to his forehead as you held Giovanni by his arm still, holding pressure there as you continued to pull at his arm. You turned to his father, narrowing your eyes.

“Make a different deal,” you demanded. “Now.”

“You can’t just—”

Giovanni screamed in agony again as you pulled back his arm, using your leg to kick Giovanni onto his knees.

“Make a different deal,” you said again. “Or I’m going to make sure Johnny can’t even wipe his own ass again.”

“God, Dad!” Giovanni cried, doubling over as you held onto his arm. “Fuck, just do it, Christ!”

“Son—”

“Do it, do it!” Giovanni begged as you heard something crack violently as you bent his arm just a bit more. You were using the heel of your boot now, and using the weight of your body, you strained the length of his arm, the sounds only making your point more serious. “Jesus, fuck!”

“Perhaps, Mr. y/l/n, we can decide on a price instead.”

Giovanni walked around with a dislocated shoulder and broken fibula for months. Your father was furious with you, but he had no right to be. You had been so insulted that your father thought he could get away with something like that, and for a while, you made his life a living hell with his business partners. You had one message to get across to your father.

Don’t ever try and control me again.

You weren’t going to roll over and obey like the rest of his men. You had a purpose, not a position, and marrying you off to a misogynistic bastard wasn’t going to work. It was the beginning of your pursuit to be heard and seen, not used. That beginning had your father thinking twice about whether or not to barter you off like property, and it had started the growing, fiery mutual hatred between you and Giovanni.

You never expected Giovanni to grow a pair and come all the way to New York to entice you, but Giovanni was also absolutely terrible and would do anything to try and get the upper hand on you. He had been for years, and you were foolish to think he’d stop now.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted you, his eyes darkening and falling over the length of your body. He whistled a bit, lowly, rubbing his chin. “New York has done you well, y/n. Is this your new look now? I like it.”

“Ri, I think you should get a refill,” you said firmly, grabbing the glass of wine out of her hands and downing it. You handed it back to her, empty, and she stood up slowly, her fingers wrapping around the stem of the glass as you sat across from Giovanni. “Go on.”

Mariposa looked between you two before walking away, and Giovanni followed her, his eyes watching her as she disappeared into the crowd.

“Hmm…I see you and Miss Muñoz are still friendly,” he winked at you, “and I can’t blame you. I mean…fuck, look at her.”

You scoffed a bit, “you’re still as much of a dickhead as I remember. Whose ass did you kiss this time to get yourself here?”

Giovanni tsked, “y/n, don’t be that way. I came all this way to see you, I thought you’d be happy,” he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I wanted to see my baby girl before she got all done up…all ready to take on Holland territory. I mean, that’s why we’re here, isn’t it? Gonna marry that piece of shit, aren’t you?”

You tapped your fingers on the table, clenching your jaw, “you know, I don’t remember my father inviting you in on family matters,” you smiled knowingly at him. “I don’t ever remember one of his…lackeys being in on operations like this. I seem to remember that only people that matter, only people that could contribute, got to sit it on important meetings. It’s bad for business when men at the bottom know about things like this, so I’m sorry, Johnny baby, that information is…classified.”

He laughed a bit, licking his bottom lip with a roll of his eyes. “Your father promised me a lot of things he’s yet to deliver on. Maybe bringing me with him is how he plans on giving me what I deserve finally.”

“Promises he had no way of guaranteeing,” your eyes were sparkling. “My father was simply mistaken, and he had to learn from those mistakes.” You stopped tapping your fingers, tilting your head to the side as you met his eyes and didn’t back away from his glare. “I do as I please, Johnny. Nobody tells me what to do, nobody can.”

“And what are you doing here?” Giovanni raised a brow. “You’re nothing but a whore for your father, letting the Hollands degrade you…all for your dad to get New York again, I think that’s what he said.”

You sniffed a bit, shifting in your seat, leaning forward more.

“If you think I’m a whore, then you’re as blind as you were years ago,” you said lowly. “That’s not how it works here. If I ask something of the Hollands, they do it for me. And no, it’s not because I sleep with any of them. It’s because unlike daddy’s business, where boys like you are running errands, there’s only men here, and they don’t ignore women because their dicks are too small.”

Giovanni snickered a bit, “you know, I don’t think I would’ve liked to have you as my wife anyway.”

You smiled a bit, gripping his collar and pulling him close. “You’re right, Johnny. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in that relationship.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as you licked over your bottom lip. “You know…cause my dick is so much bigger than yours.”

Poking at his insecurities was always your defense because it worked every time. Giovanni was the equivalent to a child and commenting on the size of him always seemed to get him angry enough to do stupid things.

Giovanni stood up abruptly after you let him go, but he was forced back into his seat when he bumped right into Tom. The color ran out of his face when he realized who he was in front of, and he scooted back into the booth, away from him, and Tom snatched the drink right out of Giovanni’s hands, tipping his head back and swallowing it all. You bit back the smile on your face as the glass hit the table, and Giovanni was visibly sweating.

“Mm…” Tom scrunched his nose. “Vodka and seltzer? What a terrible choice in liquor, mate.”

“Holland,” Giovanni straightened out his jacket, and you saw all the fight drain out of him. Intimidated by Tom’s glare, he held out his hand for Tom to shake. “I’m…Giovanni. I work for y/n’s father.”

“Mmm…so you work for y/n,” Tom corrected him, and Giovanni just pursed his lips. You watched as Tom pulled a chair out and took a seat, spreading his legs a bit as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and slid some matches your way. You stroke one of the matches, leaning over to light it for him, and you dropped the match into Giovanni’s glass. Tom took a few puffs of the cancer stick before passing it to you, letting you take a drag.  

Giovanni watched the entire time. His eyes darted between you and Tom, watching intently as you both looked at one another, as if you were communicating silently, understanding one another.  

“He just came to say hello, Tom,” you said finally, letting out a breath of smoke, and Tom turned to finally grace Giovanni with his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, holding the cigarette between his index and forefinger as he looked Giovanni up and down.  

“Oh, to say hello, eh?” Tom was taking up space with the way he sat, knowing exactly how to intimidate others just by the way he positioned himself. “Mate, I can’t help but notice the way you look at y/n. I think…” he leaned forward and blew a breath of smoke into Giovanni’s face, “you should have more respect for my fiancé. Because being disrespectful to my fiancé means you’re disrespecting me, and I don’t bloody care for men that don’t respect me, do you understand what I’m saying?”

Your heart tightened a bit in your chest. You didn’t need Tom to stand up for you, and he knew that, you had been doing it for months yourself. But hearing him do it anyways, it was sweet. You had yet to hear Tom tell you that he loved you, but there was no denying it now, not here.  

Giovanni shifted in his seat, brushing his hair back. He nodded finally, fiddling with his fingers.  

“It wasn’t…it wasn’t like that,” Giovanni assured him, his voice breaking, and Tom tilted his head to the side.

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“No! N-No,” Giovanni shook his head adamantly, “I meant…y/n and I, we go…we go way back. We’ve known each other a long time.”

“I see,” Tom laughed a bit, looking between you and Giovanni, his smile so sinister. Giovanni laughed with him nervously. “I see, so…because you and y/n know each other, it’s alright for you to act like a bastard, yeah?”

Your eyes glowed as you watched Tom break Giovanni down like a wall made of glass. Giovanni was scared, and you adored seeing him like this. You adored Tom, who was spitting venom in his ear, all for you. You couldn’t do much except stare at him lovingly.

“I think…you should apologize,” Tom said finally, and Giovanni gaped at Tom, blinking in disbelief. “I think your father would appreciate that, wouldn’t he, darling?”

“Mhm,” you agreed, standing up. Tom brought his hand around your waist as you took a seat in his lap, and he passed you the cigarette as you met Giovanni’s eyes. “Let’s hear it, Johnny. What do you have to say to me?”

Giovanni was proud, so proud. He had an ego even bigger than Tom’s, and he hid behind your father to throw insults at you. But here, in New York, your father wasn’t in charge anymore. What a Holland said was how it went, and there was no viable contradiction to it. Your father was not here to back up Giovanni and his unrealistic desires, and Tom was in your corner now.  

I am yours, and you are mine.

Tom squeezed your hip, kissing your bare shoulder before trailing up and planting soft kisses to your neck. You smiled at Giovanni, reaching up and tangling your fingers into Tom’s curls to encourage him. Your eyes were dark and alight with contentment, and Giovanni could do nothing anymore. You were untouchable here, and there wasn’t a thing he could do to bite back at you.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” he hissed through his teeth, and you blew Giovanni a kiss.

“Mmm…submissiveness suits you, Johnny,” you purred, standing up from Tom’s lap. You tapped off the cigarette as Tom stood up from his seat, straightening out his suit. “Tell daddy I said hello, and that I hope all is ready for tomorrow. Nine o’clock, right?”

Giovanni grimaced, biting back the words he was dying to say to you, but Tom was still listening, a look on his face that dared him to open his mouth. Giovanni simply nodded slowly, and you stubbed out the cigarette onto the table, tossing the ashes at him. Tom watched as you started walking away, smirking as he took a handful of your ass in one hand, following you. You let him, licking your bottom lip as he squeezed, and you grabbed onto his hand as you backed up into the wall, bringing him with you.

“Thank you,” was all you said, and Tom just pursed his lips, glaring down at you. He wasn’t angry, that wasn’t it. If he was, he would’ve gotten you both alone, in private, and he would’ve told you exactly what he wanted you to hear. This was different. He was seething, his chest rising and falling heavy, but he wasn’t angry.

“Who was that?” Tom demanded, touching under your chin. He wanted answers, clearly. You smoothed out the collar of his dress shirt, fixing it over his jacket. You sighed a bit, shaking your head.

“Nobody,” you said softly. “One of my father’s…I don’t even know what to call him. Tried to marry me off to the guy once upon a time,” you were pulled away from him abruptly as he pushed away from the wall, “wait, Tom—”

Oops.

You sat in silence in the car, sitting on opposite ends in the backseat, but this time, Tom didn’t have a hand on you. He was staring out the window, bouncing his leg, a hard look on his face as he ran a hand through his hair, fluffing the curls out of the product that kept them tidy. Tom had been acting this way all night, something itching at him, something bothering him, and it kept his head preoccupied.

“You didn’t care to tell me about that fucking tosser, eh?” Tom asked finally, his voice hard. You took a deep breath.

“Tom, honestly, I didn’t think I’d ever see him again,” you explained, shaking your head. “I definitely didn’t think my dad was going to let him go on a trip with him, especially here, when we’re getting…married and all.”

Tom laughed a bit, “you know, y/n, I thought we were on the same page. I thought we were going to stop fucking lying to each other when the situation at hand is so fucking sensitive, that I could lose my bloody head!”

You scrunched your nose a bit as he raised his voice, and you smoothed out the skirt of your dress.

“Tom, I didn’t know,” you said again, sighing. “He surprised me just as much as he surprised you. Don’t yell at me.”

You rode in silence again, staring down at your painted nails as the car stopped and drove in the congested Midtown traffic. After a few minutes of Tom silently brooding, you were taken back when Tom reached over and grabbed both sides of your face, pulling you to him and kissing you hard. It was the same way he always touched you, always grabbed you, where his fingers slightly tangled in your hair and his palms were warm against your face and his grip was tight and firm. He pulled away shortly, licking over his bottom lip as he stared down at you. The touch of his rings cooled your face just a bit, but you still felt hot all over from his kiss.

He pulled back completely and sat straight again, resuming his previous position. He didn’t say anything or acknowledge how passionate the kiss had been, and you were grateful, because you were still recovering from it. You turned away from him, reaching up to touch your lips, and you smiled to yourself. Tom wasn’t upset with you; no. Tom was jealous.

When you looked down at your hands again, you paid attention to Tom’s diamond band, still on your ring finger. He had yet to get you an engagement ring or something of your own, but he never asked for his ring back, and you continued to wear it. Smoothing your finger over it, it was almost symbolic. You had taken it right off of Tom, but he was content in you having it and keeping it because he trusted you.

Because he loves me.

You hoped everything of his was that way. Once you took his name, you would have a whole other position to take on, a whole other empire to think about. He would give it to you, but there was no tension or fear between you because he trusted you, and you trusted him. In just a few days, you and Tom were not just business partners with benefits. You were connected to him, and he was connected to you, and nothing in your life had ever felt so seamless, so complete. It had to stay that way.

It just has to.

You turned your head to look at Tom. He was still looking out the window, but his nervous leg had stopped bouncing, and he was still, his legs spread a bit as looked at the city that belonged to him. His jaw was a bit hard, and he kept flexing and unflexing his fingers, curling them into fists and out of them. His mannerisms were calm and slow, but something was bothering him still. Perhaps the same thing that was bothering you.

From the moment you met Tom, you knew he was going to be hard to resist. You were a woman, and women had needs, of course they did. Tom was insufferable, a complete arrogant, egotistical, and excruciating pain in your ass, but God, was he beautiful and God, did he dress well. Tom exuded the money he made, he cleaned up like it, and he acted like it. You had always hated that personality in the men you met, but for Tom, he did egotistical and arrogant far more sophisticated and far subtler. He was good at being bad, he was good at being rich, and there were days when you just wanted to slam the door to his office shut and force him against it.  

I mean, aren’t you marrying him?

Truthfully, you had no idea what you were doing. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, shaking your head. It wasn’t the time to think about those things. You and Tom had work to do, and none of it involved ripped clothes and tangled sheets.  

You’re trying to merge kingdoms, not get hot and heavy with him. Focus.

The car stopped, and Tom opened the door. He stood on the sidewalk, waiting for you, and he held out his hand for you to take. You intertwined your fingers, and Tom shut the door behind you, helping you onto the sidewalk. You looked up at your apartment building for a moment, and even though there was a chill outside, you kept Tom there, not moving from your place on the sidewalk.

Tom sighed, letting go of you for a moment to light a cigarette. He took your hand again as he put the lighter away.

“What is it, y/n? What do you have to say?” Tom asked, as if he knew there were words itching to be spoken. You swallowed a bit, stepping closer to him. You reached for the ring on your finger, taking it off and holding it up for him to look at.

“Is this…what are we doing?” You wondered, a bit breathless. “Tomorrow, we’re supposed to…get married. That was the plan, it was always the plan, but…things are different now. There’s no secrets, Tommy, that changed things.”

“Nothing’s changed,” Tom countered, and you pursed your lips.

“You’re an idiot if you think nothing’s changed, Tom,” you argued. “I just…I just want the truth, Tom. That’s all.” You met his eyes, shaking your head. “I just want to know that…even if being married to me isn’t what you want, that…that you’ll still have my back.”

Tom let out a slow breath of smoke, away from you, before taking the ring out of your hands and putting it back onto his own finger. Your face softened a bit, and you swallowed hard, trying to fight down the feeling crawling up inside you.

No, no, no.

Tom reached into his suit jacket, pulling something out of one of the pockets. You looked down as he opened his palm, and you let out a shaky breath as you saw it. There, in his hand, was a thin solid gold band with a single rectangular diamond. He took your left hand in his, dropping the cigarette and stubbing it out before slipping the band onto your ring finger. You had nothing to say as he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed your knuckles before intertwining your fingers again and tugging you towards the building.

The silence told you enough. Tom had always planned on going through with it, and even though neither of you were sure about the future, you were sure about each other. Tomorrow night, you would marry him, and he would marry you, and even though both of you would be pretending, the vows would be real.

The beginning would be true.

You punched in the code for your door and used the key to unlock it, opening it. Tom held it open as he came in after you, and Tom shut the door as he backed you up against it, resting both of his forearms on either side of your head. You swallowed hard as you met his eyes, barely able to see him with the lack of lights on. The moonlight peeked in through the windows, but it was only enough to see half of his face.

“Tom,” you said finally, “what are you—”

He captured your breath in a kiss, pressing you up against the door. You dropped your purse onto the floor, hearing it clatter as you wrapped your arms around Tom’s neck, pulling him closer to you. He nipped at your bottom lip, enough that you let out a little laugh. All the tension in your body rose as one of Tom’s hands left the door and came up your neck, wrapping around your throat, gripping it firmly.

Oh, you have me, Tommy. I’m all yours.

You swallowed again, something dry, as Tom’s thumb trailed along the length of your jaw and up, tracing the outline of your lips. His touch was soft and hot, and his eyes were watching your reaction. You didn’t move, not at all, not until his thumb went into your mouth and you could wrap your lips around it, your eyes going up to meet his again.

“I’ve seen a lot of things tonight I wish I hadn’t, y/n,” Tom said lowly, chuckling darkly. “And you with that bastard was one of them.”

So jealous.

You gasped a bit as his grip on your throat tightened, forcing you back into the door, his wet thumb rubbing along your chin now.

So possessive.

“Bloody disrespectful that was,” Tom’s lip twitched angrily, and his eyes were so dark, you couldn’t see anything in them. “But you know what pushed me over the fuckin’ edge tonight, darling, eh? You know what it was?”

All mine.

When you didn’t answer, Tom shoved you into the door, your head hitting it a bit hard, and you grunted a bit, letting out a few heavy breaths. You were shivering all over from his touch, thinking about the last time you were underneath him. This time, just his fingers wouldn’t be enough, you knew that much.

“It was you, y/n,” Tom breathed, shaking his head. “You, thinking that I didn’t want you as my fucking queen. And it got me thinking, love.”

You let out a harsh breath as he shoved his knee between your legs, his thigh just ghosting the place you needed him the most. If you weren’t wet before, you were drenched now, hot all over, and completely shivering. Finally, Tom Holland had you at his mercy. He was enjoying every second of it.

Every curve, every dimple, every piece, it’s mine.

“It got me thinking that perhaps you don’t bloody understand what you mean to me,” Tom murmured, licking his lips. “But you will, darling. You’ll understand. I’ll make sure that you understand.”

You cried out in surprise as Tom gripped you by the waist and turned you around, pressing you up against the door again. Your cheek rested against it as he pressed his hips into your backside, dipping his head to the crook of your neck as you felt him, hard and strained against the zipper of his trousers, all for you. Tom kissed under your ear softly, his breath warm as he dragged his tongue up the length of your ear and kissed the edge of your earlobe.  

“You’re a princess today, y/n,” he growled. “And tomorrow, I’m gonna make you a bloody queen.”

With everyone on their knees for you.

You were rendered speechless. Tom was whispering in your ear, his hands were falling down your sides, and you were completely, utterly useless. You whimpered as he gripped the hem of your dress and hiked it up, his hand cupping one side of your ass generously, squeezing. He almost moaned himself seeing the holster strapped around your thighs, your gun nice and snug against your leg.

“Bloody fucking hell,” Tom chuckled. “Look at you, darling…” You leaned your head back against his chest as you felt his fingers tug at the lace of your panties, moving between your legs before he touched between your thighs. He whistled a bit, lowly, “shit, baby, you’re bloody soaked…”

That was an understatement. Your panties were ruined.

“God, Tom—”

“You’ve wanted this,” he observed, gripping the waistband of your panties and sliding them down your thighs. “You’ve wanted me, sweetheart, but you never said a word. You don’t have to hide anymore, y/n. If I’m going to be your husband, you’ve got to be honest with me, eh?”

You couldn’t concentrate as his hands moved between your thighs, and you cried out a bit as he spanked you firmly. Your head was spinning, all you could think about was the ache between your legs and how hot your whole body felt. You knew you were dripping when Tom grasped the handle of the gun, pulling it out of its place and unbuckling the holster so it fell onto the floor. The metal was so cool and hard against your skin, and you froze as he released the magazine from it, the bullets scattered across the floor now. He dropped the gun, and it clattered onto the floor.

God, he’s going to make me come, and he’s barely touched me.

“Answer me, y/n. You’re going to be more honest with me about what you want, yeah?” Tom demanded. “If my wife is bloody needy,” you groaned as he tangled his hand into your hair, forcing your head back again, “if my queen wants something from me,” you sighed with relief as he kissed your neck, “I expect her to say so.”

My wife.

“Yes, Tommy,” you cooed, and you felt him smile against the skin of your neck.

“Good girl,” he whispered in your ear, and you had to bite back a moan. You felt so submissive, so out of your element, but you had never adored the praise more than right now. This was the attractive, hot, kingpin that the city was afraid of, and he was calling you his good girl, his princess, his queen, and you didn’t realize how much you loved being worshipped until right now. You didn’t realize how much you needed someone to take care of you.

You closed your eyes as Tom started to kiss over the back of your neck, one hand sliding up your waist again as the other toyed with your clit, circling it gently just to keep you occupied as he felt up the body he loved more than any other. He had his eyes closed, and he was trying to memorize the curves of your skin, how often your breath skipped as he touched you, how warm you were. You smiled a bit as he fingered the zipper of your dress.

“Go ahead, Tommy,” you said softly. “I want you to.”

Good girl.

Tom unzipped the back of your dress, his knuckles dragging along your spine as he did. His touch was electric, each time his skin met yours was like a bolt of warmth that cascaded all down your back. You closed your eyes again as he began to kiss down your back, butterfly kisses trailing from the back of your neck to between your shoulder blades to the base of your spine, a trickle effect of shivers moving through you. Tom got down onto his knees behind you, and you groaned a bit as he bent you at the hip a bit. He put both hands on your ass, kissing the skin there, biting even.

“You couldn’t get any more beautiful,” he said lowly, and you let out a soft whimper as you felt his curls tickle your skin. It wasn’t long before your knees began to give out, an involuntary response as Tom dipped his head between your legs, his tongue poking out from between those wet lips to slip inside you.

“God, Tom—” You gasped, holding onto the wall for support. Tom put one hand on your hip to steady you and used the other to touch you teasingly. He started out slow, lapping through your folds, humming as he collected the sticky, sweet wetness onto the surface of his tongue, swallowing before delving in for more. With two other fingers, he massaged your bud lovingly, coaxing the most beautiful moans out of you. Tom was smirking like a bastard when he noticed your knees were shaking a bit, your body trembling as you gave into the sensation. “Tommy—”

“Mmm…you’ve got such a sweet cunt, darling,” he murmured, kissing your thighs, his voice a bit muffled against your skin. “Bloody wonderful.”

You leaned your head back, one hand leaving the wall to grab at his stiff curls, pulling on them hard. Tom chuckled a bit, his lips wrapping around your clit, his tongue moving in rhythm as he slipped two fingers inside of you, stretching you nicely, making your eyes roll back in your head as you rocked your hips a bit, feeling a sweet knot forming in your belly.  

“Mm, princess, you’re so bloody tight, yeah?” Tom breathed, pulling away to catch his breath. “You’re close, eh?”

“Tom, Jesus!” You squealed, forcing his head back between your legs. “Don’t stop, what’s w-wrong with you?”

Tom didn’t stop. He stood up from his knees, grabbing you from the waist and hoisting you up into his arms. You held onto his neck as he carried you into the bedroom, setting you down on the bed as he shed his suit jacket and kicked his shoes off. You stopped him from moving too fast, slipping your heels off before sitting up on your knees on the bed, tugging Tom to you by the fabric of his shirt, meeting his eyes as you slowly unbuttoned his dress shirt.

Tom undid the clasp of his watch, tossing it onto the floor on top of his jacket. He undid his cufflinks as you finished undoing the buttons of his shirt, and you slid the fabric off his shoulders, revealing his muscular torso. You couldn’t see much in the dark, but your fingers ghosted over flexed muscle and soft skin, and you let out a breath as you scratched down his stomach. Tom was a sight for sore eyes, and despite the scars and marks that you could feel, his skin was the most kissable surface you had ever seen.

“It’s alright, love,” a gentle noise escaped you as Tom gripped your chin hard with one hand, the other unbuckling his belt and working on his trousers. “I know…it’s hard to fathom how fit your husband is, isn’t it?”

“You’re not my husband,” you said defiantly, and Tom clicked his tongue.

“After tonight, m’love, you’ll never need anyone but me.”

“Bite me, Tom.”

“With pleasure.”

You heard the fabric of your dress tear as he pushed it off your shoulders roughly, grabbing the hem of it and shimmying it down your hips. He forced you onto your back so he could pull it off and toss it behind him, and Tom grinned as he looked down at you, scooting back on the bed as you kicked your panties off your ankle. There you were, like an angel sparkling in moonlight, all bare for him to admire.

All fucking mine.

He caged himself over you, getting on top of you, and you cupped his cheeks, kissing him warmly as you both settled back against the pillows. Despite how dominating Tom could be, this was gentle, this was sweet, and there was no rushing now. Tom brought you up to sit, rolling over until you were straddling his waist, his back against the headboard as you both kissed warmly, your thighs still shaking and damp from Tom’s unbelievable mouth. It wasn’t long before your fingers were threading through his curls again as you grinded down on his lap, chasing your high even though Tom had yet to remove his boxers.

He wasn’t stopping you. Both of his hands were on your bare back, his palms pressing you close as you moved your hips, both of your mouths still focused on each other, kissing, biting, breathing. You were chasing a high that Tom had denied you, not caring how desperate you looked as you leaned your head back and moved.  

Your moan was feverish and shaky as you came, falling onto his chest for support as your hips slowed their pace. Tom gripped you by the hair and flipped you both over, getting on top, and you reached down between your grinding bodies to feel the front of his boxers, feeling how damp and sticky they were.

“Mmm, did you make a mess, baby?” You teased, and Tom pulled at your hair roughly, and you smiled at that, to his delight.

“Aye, you bloody adore that thought, eh? Getting me off without so much as fucking touchin’ me,” he chuckled a bit, and you hummed as he grabbed your leg and wrapped it around his waist securely. You held onto him as you felt the tip of him against your thigh, warm, wet, aching to be touched. You stared right into his eyes as you lowered your hand, finding his cock and wrapping your nimble fingers around him, your lips parting as you felt him for the very first time.

Tom gripped one side of your face hard as you stroked him, your fingers exploring the parts of him you had been deprived of for too long. Tom was lengthy, hard, and throbbing, and he thought you were being cruel with how slowly and tenderly you were touching him.  

“Look at me,” you breathed, and he grunted as he met your eyes again, licking his lips as you slowed your fingers around him. You leaned forward, giving him a kiss beside the mouth before kissing him firmly, hotly, sloppily. “I’m going to make you unstoppable, Tommy. I know what you want, baby, and I’m going to give it to you. You want the world, Tom, and I swear…it’s yours.”

As if I’m not already fucking hard for her.

You couldn’t remember how long you kissed for, but your lips were swollen, red, aching by the time Tom gripped your hips and pushed into you. You arched your back at the feeling, still sensitive from your previous orgasm, but that didn’t stop Tom from sinking into you slowly, not stopping until your hips touched. You clawed at his back, your nails digging in hard. Tom didn’t move, but you could feel him pulsing, aching, dying to do something, anything.

“And I,” Tom sucked at the skin at the edge of your jaw, taking the skin between his teeth as he kissed to nibble and bite, “I’m going to give you the fucking power you deserve, princess.”

What I deserve.

You moaned in his ear as he finally lifted his hips, grunting as he pressed his body as close to yours as possible, the tip of his cock grazing somewhere inside of you that had you crying out in pleasure. Tom grabbed your face again, holding it tight as he moved his hips against yours, watching as your mouth gaped open wider and wider as he found his rhythm.  

“Everyone is going to know your name, y/n,” Tom growled, rutting his hips up into yours, his breath faltering when he could feel you tightening up around him. “You’re going to be a fucking Holland, aren’t you, love?”

“Yes!” You gasped, dragging your nails down his back.

“Say it,” Tom gripped you by the throat this time, forcing your eyes on his as he quickened his hips, starting to lose control. “Fuckin’ say it.”

Mine.

“I’m a—” You moaned loudly as he dug his fingers into your hips, a forceful grip that had you shaking all over. Tom was relentless in his drive to get you seeing stars, and the tip of his cock was hitting the same sweet, aching spot over and over again inside of you. Once he found it, he didn’t stop searching for it, his focus solely on making those sweet eyes of yours milky and white with pleasure.  

“Say it, princess,” Tom demanded, becoming breathless and hot as he moved on top of you. There was sweat lining his forehead, and your nails dragging along his back had become clammy with the sweat dripping down the length of his spine.

“I’m a Holland!” You cried out, biting down on his shoulder, and Tom slowed his pace a bit, picking you up until you were upright with him. You put your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, leaning your forehead against his as you both moved as one, your hips meeting deliciously, getting faster and sloppier every second you both held onto to one another. Tom was hitting deep inside of you, and you needed to feel more, you had to feel everything, because it had been so long since you had felt anything.  

All mine.

Tom smoothed his hand up and down your back, your panting breaths mingling as the pace quickened again, the knot in your stomach building up sweetly and intensely. Tom was fucking you raw, and you were loving every single moment of it.  

“I need you, Tommy,” you breathed, and he nodded in response, not stopping the quick thrusts he had built up so well.  

“I know,” he whispered, pulling at your sweaty hair, hugging your chest close to his. Skin on skin, the only sounds being Tom’s cock moving between you and your sweet breathless moans as you held onto him. “Be a good girl for me, y/n.”

You whimpered as he said it again.  

Good girl.

It was a command you couldn’t help but obey. For so long, you had tried so hard to be anything but good. Good never got you anywhere, and no one cared about good girls, no one in this business listened to good girls. They ignored good girls, tossed aside good girls, killed good girls.

But here, now, in this bedroom, Tom needed you to be good, and it wasn’t because he wanted to toss you aside, it was because he needed you to be good to give you whatever you wanted. Tom didn’t need you to be good for anyone else except for him.

Your whole body froze as you came around his hard length, your hips stilling and your voice faltering as your vision turned a bit blurry for a moment. Everything was so silent and pleasurable for just a few moments, Tom’s hips slowing their pace but not stopping as he reached his own high. You gasped a bit as you felt him, filling you up and almost making you collapse. It was almost like a second high, feeling him like that, and Tom had to hold you upright as you tried to swallow down all the wonderful feelings inside of you.

You both panted hard, sweaty and exhausted, but neither of you wanted to move. Tom’s cock had softened, but you stopped him as he tried to pull out.

“Just a minute,” you breathed, closing you eyes. “Just…wait.”

The truth was that you had never felt more vulnerable or closer to anyone than this moment. You wanted to hold onto it for as long as possible. Tom nipped at your neck as you relaxed in his lap, and you let out slight gasps as he moved every once in a while. Finally, slowly, you urged him to pull out, and Tom was quick to collect everything dripping onto your thighs and slip those fingers into your mouth, watching you hungrily.

“You’re mine, y/n,” Tom said finally, brushing the hair out of your eyes. You looked down at him, perched on his lap, and you nodded slowly. “Your father is going to have to pry you out of my dead bloody hands to get to you, yeah?”

“Don’t say things like that,” you whispered, shaking your head. “The only way we get out of this, Tommy, is together.”

“You and I, love,” Tom echoed, his forehead against yours again. He left a chaste kiss on your lips. “My ride or die.”

“Two sides of the same coin,” you cooed, and Tom leaned in close enough to kiss you again.  

“One and the same,” you both said at the same time, smiling wide at one another, so enamored with each other that it was frightening.

You tried to remember how Tom looked like this. His handsome features only lit by moonlight, the sweat along his brows, the smile ghosting his swollen lips. Tom was pretty in this light, almost gentle, and you adored being able to see him like this. No one else would ever be able to admire him in this light, and you didn’t care if it was selfish. You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, and you tried so hard to swallow the fear in your throat. Tom couldn’t know how nervous you were, how scared you were. You had to show him that you were capable of doing this for him, that you had it in you to sit on thrones that weren’t made for you and to take on challenges that were never designed for you to succeed. You had to be better. You had to be more.  

You need to be you.

Tomorrow would be the first chapter in a book you had never planned on writing. For so long, you were sure about where you were supposed to stand, but now you were struggling where to even put your feet as every step felt shakier than the last. Looking into Tom’s dark eyes, you were certain that this was the calm before the storm. Time and time again, your father proved he couldn’t be trusted, and there was something inside you that knew even the things he told you must’ve been a lie.  

“He will never learn until it’s too late, and by then, nothing will be able to save him.”

Your father would only see through you. He would never be able to see you for what you were. You would have to take everything from him because you were certain that he would never give you what you were promised. You would have to take it, and you were relying on Tom to be there to catch you when you did.

“It’s you, and it will always be you, and I hope he dies knowing it.”

This had to be the beginning, your beginning. It couldn’t be anything else. This love, this happiness, it all had to be for a reason, and the right reasons. You had fought so hard to get here, to finally feel in control, and finally, someone was looking at you. Tom was looking at you, and he was in love with you, and you needed to protect it from the world that you were never meant for. You knew it would do anything to tear it away from you, to make you believe that you weren’t worthy of it all, but you had to be better. You couldn’t let this be anything more than the start. It couldn’t be the beginning of anything else. Not the beginning of losing, not the beginning of being alone, not the beginning of the end.

It has to be the beginning of me.

read chapter nine

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Kiro’s R&S - Youthhood (Eng Translation)

🍒This R&S (少年时代) was part of the Dream Heart Lake event which will unlikely come to EN🍒

Cancelled Kiro’s R&S:

> top experimental subject (by another user)

> stunning young idol

> youthhood ♡

> heaven’s home for children (by another user)

[ Chapter 1]

Kiro sits on the highest flight of steps of TKTS. With the scorching sun directly overhead, he’s queuing to purchase discounted tickets to “Wicked” with Pei En.

TKTS, which sells discounted tickets, is located in the bustling Times Square in New York, USA. Behind it is the NASDAQ screen, and on both sides are shops selling Disney products and all sorts of fast fashion brands. The buildings in front and in the surroundings have gigantic, neat and pretty advertisements.

Among them, a gigantic “The Avengers” poster above the subway is the most attention grabbing.

This is a representation of the era. It’s a symbol of the 20th century, and is also similar to the cyberpunk world of “Blade Runner”.

“I’ve got the tickets!”

Pei En waves the two tickets to “Wicked” in his hand. Pei En is the guitarist in his band. Kiro’s agency formed a band for him, and most of the band members are French locals. Only Pei En is of mixed blood like Kiro - a child from a Jew and an Asian.

“If the performance had gone smoothly, we would have reached earlier!”

They have a final performance in New York as part of their tour, and would have to leave after, rushing to Los Angeles, California.

“This time, I’m going to hide the donuts in an even more secret location so the person who inspects the tickets wouldn’t discover them!”

While Kiro says this, he finishes the donut in his hand.

Donuts from Dunkin’ Donuts are very sticky. Only Kiro can treat such things as delicacies.

His ringtone sounds. With a glance at the number on the screen, he hangs up immediately. Pei En is very curious to know who the caller is. He has expressed curiosity regarding everything involving Kiro, and Kiro knows why.

“Is it that fellow Lawrence again?” Pei En asks. Lawrence is the agent of their band.

“Nope, but it’s definitely a harassment call.”

“It should be.”

Pei En seems to be a carbon copy of Kiro. Aside from his hair not being golden coloured, he is extremely similar to Kiro in terms of bubbliness and openness, and how simple-minded he is. 

-

[ Chapter 2 ]

After purchasing the tickets, both of them return to the agency. Lawrence is at the side, looking through the program booklet for their performance tonight. Lawrence is overwhelmingly ambitious. He won’t give up until he bags a Grammy Award for the band.

“Did you know? Another group of strange people came to look for you again.”

The moment Lawrence sees Kiro, he pulls the latter to a corner. Pei En curiously watches on.

“What kind of people did you provoke? They look like they shouldn’t be trifled with.”

Kiro shakes his head. “What do you mean by ‘they’? Fans?”

When Lawrence sees the innocent and harmless expression on Kiro’s face again, he knows that his questions wouldn’t get him anywhere. Kiro always manages to find ways to conceal himself.

“How’s the preparation for the concert? You’re the lead singer, and all the girls are flocking here for you!”

“I’ll definitely perform even better than usual!”

Kiro looks to be full of zest and in high spirits. He genuinely loves being on stage, and loves how he radiates brilliance. Who doesn’t like seeing fans go into a frenzy over them and be captivated by them? It enables Kiro to fully feel that he is still living on this earth. And that on this earth, there are still so many people who like him...

“I’m guessing you went to buy a souvenir again today.”

Lawrence comes to such a conclusion after glancing at Kiro’s bag. Kiro has a hobby - to buy some souvenirs wherever he goes, whenever convenient.

From Paris to Munich, Zurich to Stockholm, Vancouver to Montreal - wherever he goes on tour, he would buy local fridge magnets and postcards, and he would always buy two sets.

He wants to collect these things, so if a day comes when he can meet her again, he would show them to her, and say:

“Look! This world is so beautiful, and you no longer have to be afraid.”

But till now, he has yet to find her. He remembers her eyes. One day, he will find her in a vast sea of people. 

“Did you know that the agency from China has sent someone to negotiate with us? They want you to sign on with them, and the amount they’re giving you is basically--”

Lawrence’s tone is exaggerated. “How are people in China so wealthy!”

“What if I said that I wanted to go to China?”

“Hey, buddy, the band can’t do without you.”

“Haha, Pei En is much more outstanding than I am.”

At this point, Pei En is still watching them. Kiro understands him too well. He’s much too curious. Also, he’s only curious about Kiro, which could very quickly expose Kiro’s hidden identity.

Did that group of people actually send Pei En to monitor him...

He kind of underestimates Pei En though.

“But that fellow is always so absent-minded. God knows what he’s thinking about.”

-

[ Chapter Three ]

Americans enjoy overstating things. At one moment, they go “only God knows...”, and at another moment, they go “for the sake of God...”. Some people can’t stand it, but Kiro finds it very interesting.

Very quickly, Kiro begins rehearsing with the band. His style of singing changes a lot. When they were in Europe, they mostly played rock music. When they reached America, they started playing country or jazz music.

Kiro likes the southern accent of the keyboardist from California. But Lawrence prohibits it. “The southern accent is the most crude and coarse form of English! Why can’t you learn the way the British speak?”

Lawrence has always favoured people who can speak eloquent British English - to him, only such people are refined and elegant. But Kiro grew up in France. When he first started learning English, he tended to pronounce “ch” as “sh”. Actually, French is genuinely elegant and pleasant to listen to. And English tinged with a slight French accent can make one absorbed in it.

-

The concert ended smoothly.

The fans are cheering in a frenzy outside, wanting them to perform one more song. But the agent has already told them to leave.

Pei En and Kiro take a car and rush to the theatre to watch “Wicked”. This is the final Broadway show they want to watch, and it was a shame that Kiro didn't get to watch the well-known Hamilton.

At the entrance, that group of fellows stopped him again. 

The person standing at the forefront is a Caucasian woman. She walks up to Kiro elegantly and greets him, signalling for the person next to her to bring Pei En away.

“I’ve already given you a response through e-mail, and I hope you won’t disturb me again.”

The Caucasian woman proceeds as usual, showing him an FBI ID.

Kiro grumbles in his heart.

“I swear I won’t disclose the contents of ‘The Avengers’. Even though I’ve already watched it on my laptop, I’ll definitely watch it again in the cinema!”

The Caucasian woman laughs.

“Mr Kiro, you’re very humorous. Even though we know that apart from Disney, you’ve also hacked into Universal Studios and Paramount Pictures, we’re not here to talk about this.”

She continues: “KEY - that’s you, isn’t it?”

-

[ Chapter 4 ]

Kiro doesn’t respond, his eyes widening as he glances around. 

“In order to track down your IP address, we had to destroy four computers.”

“Are you looking for me to make compensation for the computers?”

“Mr Kiro. Ten years ago, you expended no effort to hack into our computers, and left behind a string of mysterious characters.”

The Caucasian woman smiles at him amiably. Kiro’s expression grows serious. Ten years ago, that KEY who hacked into their organisation wasn’t him...

“Ten years later, you’re back again. I think you're trying to provoke us.”

“I don’t have such an intention.”

“Whether or not you do, we can’t let you continue this way. Mr Kiro, this is a serious issue. We are now sending you a sincere invitation, and we hope to work together to do more noble things.”

Kiro is silent. He had previously found a clue leading to his own master. Finding out that he had entered the American FBI website and left behind a series of symbols - he thinks this is message to him from his master. As such, he entered it as well, and found that series of symbols, but until now hasn’t been able to decipher it.

It’s a series of very strange symbols, reminiscent of a new language formed using Latin and Roman symbols. He managed to decipher it a little, and it appears that the series of symbols seem to be pointing him to a location.

And the FBI had found him quickly, sending him an e-mail. It was a solemn reminder that if he was unwilling to be enlisted by them, he would lose his rights to use a computer forever.

“You’ve stated these things clearly in the e-mail, and I’ve already replied.”

“I don't think you have considered the severity of this matter. Mr Kiro, we can detain you.”

"In that case, I’ll just sing in jail then!”

Seeing the displeased look on the Caucasian woman’s face, Kiro continues smiling simple-mindedly.

“I hope you wouldn’t regret this in the future.” The Caucasian woman leaves a final statement that is often found in a script for a classic villain. She leaves with the large group of people. 

Pei En walks over frantically, and Kiro walks towards him as well.

“Tell them that I’ve met with some trouble, and will need to leave America immediately.”

Pei En pretends to be puzzled.

“You understand the meaning in my words, don’t you?”

For the first time, Kiro looks at him seriously. During serious moments, he doesn’t smile. 

“Where do you plan to go? We can send you to Russia.”

Pei En is no longer smiling. His expression changes, along with his entire aura.

As expected, Pei En is much too similar to him. If Kiro were to leave the band, Pei En could take over his position as the lead singer, and that group of people had considered this fact too.

-

[ Chapter 5 ]

The face of the little girl surfaces in Kiro’s mind again. 

The girl is lying with him, and is all smiles as she looks at him.

“Don’t be afraid. When I’m out, I’ll buy you donuts, okay?”

The girl draws the shape of a donut in the air.

Back then, Kiro didn’t speak. He just stared at the ceiling in a dazed state.

“Don’t worry that I won’t have enough money. My dad will give it to me.”

Kiro remains wordless, quietly listening to the little girl speak.

The little girl struggles to pull on his hand.

Their fingers lace together, the warmth from her palm gradually coursing into Kiro’s heart.

“Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you.”

Kiro turns to look at her - to look at her determined brown eyes, to look at how the corners of her lips angle upwards. Kiro slowly learns how to curl the corners of his lips from her. It’s the first smile to appear on his face. 

Suddenly, the door is flung open. A group of people wearing doctor’s coats enter and drag him away. The little girl watches him in a daze, and he stares back at her. They agreed to go out to have donuts - can they still eat them?

-

“I want to return to China.”

Pei En shakes his head, alarm in his eyes. “Why? There’s so much freedom here, and I’m the only one who monitors you. And I’m inclined to trust you more now. You won’t betray us.”

“No... I still want to go back.”

Not just for the little girl. The symbols left behind by his master seem to point to a certain location in China... Where exactly is it? And why did he leave the symbols with the FBI? Could it be the place he’s hiding at right now?

No matter what, he wants to solve this riddle.

“All right. I’ll handle it for you as soon as I can. I think you’d have to use a false identity this time.”

“As long as everything goes smoothly, it’s fine.”

“Don’t worry, there’s nothing they can’t do.”

He wants to wait till he returns to China before telling Lawrence about what happened. Lawrence will definitely be extremely frantic. After all, he’s been following Kiro ever since he debuted in France.

And Pei En will definitely be happy. He can finally take over Kiro and become the favourite member of the group, and obtain love from the fans.

Kiro is someone who doesn’t lack love. But he always subconsciously wishes that he could obtain even more love. More and more...

-

[ Chapter 6 ]

Before Kiro retuned, Pei En gave him materials pertaining to the agency in China.

“Your agent is called Savin. He doesn’t seem as eager for instant success and quick profits as Lawrence. Mr Savin is a very amiable person, and you should be very happy interacting with him.”

“Is he one of your people?”

“I don’t know.”

“You really don’t know?”

Pei En shakes his head. “I rank too low, so I don’t have the right to ask. I’m just an elementary spy.”

Kiro nods, taking his luggage and preparing to leave. He’ll set things straight eventually.

“Kiro, I don’t think you’re transparent. They say that what’s in your heart is easy to guess, which is why they put me by your side. But I think they have underestimated you.”

Kiro looks at Pei En’s troubled eyes, then showcases his signature sunny smile.

“How can that be? Do you want a postcard? When I get to China, I’ll mail you one. I also want to mail them to Lawrence and the members from the band. Treat it as an apology.”

Like Kiro, Pei En showcases a sunny smile. “In that case, we’ll wait for your news. You’ll definitely be at the height of popularity in China.”

“Let’s work hard together.”

“Yes!”

After parting with Pei En, who has been with together with him from morning to night for so long, Kiro lifts his luggage and embarks on an unknown journey. 

As what Pei En said, he isn’t transparent. His brilliant smile conceals something underneath, just as the brilliant sun shrouds darkness underneath.

Hidden in the depths of his secrets are things even darkness doesn’t know of. If darkness had a mind of its own, it might think it doesn’t fit with this pure and simple youth.

Just as how everyone think he’s a simple, innocent Kiro, the sunlight casted on him can pierce through him completely, the rays of light refracting onto the floor. 

Actually, since a very long time ago, he was no longer a youth...

But, for her sake, he's willing to become a youth again.

“Don’t be afraid, I’ll protect you.”

He once again recalls what the girl said to him.

“This time, I’ll be the one protecting you.” Kiro says excitedly. He stands outside the JFK Airport, his eyes staring directly at the sun.

“I’ll find you, and protect you. I even have a mountain of souvenirs stored in my luggage. I’ll give them all to you. And my purest heart - I’ll give it to you too!”

-

Other cancelled R&S: here

[amythecinnabunny]

Space AU and Time Travel for Juke 👀 <33

Holy shit holy shit holy shit ok ok ok ok first of all AKDBJSJSJJEJE YES

Okay okay so let me try to iron out the mess in my head skxbjsjjd I hereby apologize if things get out of order or whatever but I am literally vibrating with excitement someone please write this I'll love you forever

Ok so I'm thinking also an aged up au for ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* reasons *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ sjsnnsn

Also, I've done this before and I'm gonna do it again, but Bobby and Trevor are two different people for the sake of the timeline here.

Time frame for this would be WAY into the future. Humanity has gone galactic. We also had our asses handed to us by several alien planets but we probably deserved it. Anyway, after we got rid of Elon Musk, we eventually made peace with the aliens and now roam the galaxy freely. 20-30yo generally try to get into a different fleet, just to learn about other races. Think all those alien ships adopts a human posts.

Julie, Carrie and Flynn are my three girl geniuses. They're like,,, the smartest people in every room. They've been like this since freshman year of college. Julie, Carrie and Flynn also all want to get into the student exchange program, which is exactly what you think it is. Alien races (and this now includes humanity) swaps out older students with each other so they get a feel of what the other race is like. It's fun, educational, and! You get to make super long distance pen pals!

I'd also have so much fun making up new memes???? It would be so fucking stupid tho but I love it.

Anyway, so after a few years of jumping through the exchange programme, hoping from planet to planet, unfortunately, without their bestfriends :<, the three of them qualify to board research ships!!!

So at like 23-25, my girls come back together on the same ship!! Its a massive thing and so they've hired so many interns from so many different races. It's like a landing hub for several smaller ships. They have like 10 interns per species and that's only because there are laws against having too many of one kind after they put 50 humans on a space station and the humans tried to take over. Also, humans multiply faster than the others. This terrifies some races.

Anyway, the ship's really just a bunch of college kids from different planets trying to avoid exam season by submitting research papers from their ship. They all bond over deadlines, breakups and coffee (or the alien equivalent thereof)

Flynn dated an alien girl for a while. They were cute. Flynn: as a lesbian, it's my duty to date all the women in space

This is also where they run into Willie!!! Yay, Willie!!!

Nick Danforth-Evans and Kayla Evans-McKessie are around ... somewhere ... in bunk beds like the little toddlers they wish they were, crying about the 15 page essay on why Xjsbsjdjd is a very intelligent race that we could learn a lot from (yes, that is a keysmash I'm too buzzed to be creating alien species names sjdjjdjd)

Carrie and Nick do date for a while but then Carrie hooked up with Kayla. Bisexual queen who?

Julie met Willie that time she didn't sleep for over 48 hours because she had a research paper due within a week and she hadn't started yet and it was 10 000 words on her experiences with the Psjxjjdkeiwj race. Luckily for her, the kid she bumped into and spilled an energy drink all over had the same paper and helped her finish it. Willie sometimes goes by the nickname Lifesaver, thanks to Julie. This confuses the metaphor-less people because Willie's never saved anyone's life?? So why is he a lifesaver??

ANYWAY ON TO THE TIME TRAVEL BIT

On their own, Julie, Carrie and Flynn are professional smart people who know what they're saying and are clever enough not to do things with too many risks. In the same room, however, they turn into dumb geniuses who can and possibly may blow up the entire ship. It's a good thing they have Willie, Nick and Kayla to babysit them, right? WRONG. Willie Kayla and Nick egg them on.

They decide there going to gather all the information there is on time travel and they're going to decipher it and make it work! Yay!

When they find stuff in alien languages they start calling up their alien pen pals "hello what's this word mean in this context? What, haha oh no, it's a research paper on why time travel projects were abandoned before completion. Okay, thank you!"

Before long, they have a working time machine. I mean,, they hope so. And so they enter a random date from the past and prepare to pop their heads through just to see what the world looked like approximately 200ish years ago

2020s, post covid because that exists for joke reasons later, Sunset Curve is performing live for one of their biggest audiences yet when mid-song, the floor just opens them up and swallows them whole before vanishing. The crowd things it's a stunt but Sunset Curve's managers are flipping their shit

Back on the ship, the machine starts sparking and with a soft boom and a hiss, the power in that quadrant goes out -- not before Willie's is pelted in the face with a pair of drumsticks and then a whole person.

It's a miracle the drums survived the trip, pet alone everything else.

So now these sleep deprived geniuses and co. have to hide three people and several musical artifacts, plus the smoking remains of a time machine, from their Supervising Officer, who is regrettably, a human too.

And none of them are very good at lying.

Luke and Bobby are though, and after piecing together bits and pieces from the frenzied rambling around them, Luke and Bobby save the group.

Shenanigans ensue as they try to rebuild the time machine under the watchful eye of the SO, while trying to mantainbfake credentials for the boys and trying to explain their very dated clothing. (Yes, Sunset Curve STILL rocks the 90s vibe. In the 2020s. It's their thing.)

Willex happens in the background -- and I mean that very literally. (Jukebox having a tension moment, Willex making out in the background.)

Honestly I'm not sure yet how theyd solve the problems, whether they'd send the boys back or not or what, but I do know that they will all cause a BUNCH of problems in between.

Sometimes they play music just because they still can. Sunset Curve becomes a house band for the ship. They get broadcasted to neighbouring or passing ships like "hey, losers, we have live music, SUCK IT!"

Focusing on the jukebox aspect of this whole fic, that's gonna be a fucking hilarious slow burn.

It will definitely contain the lines "Oh my god, I have a crush on Julie." "Congratulations, you're officially the last to know." "What? Even [SO's Name] knows??" "Dude. The ship's navigation crew knows." "Does ... Julie know?" "No, you're both morons."

Julie is having the exact same conversation four hallways away.

They'd talk a lot about sending the boys back home and it'd be really quiet conversations when everyone else is asleep.

Julie and Luke write music together and after a while, Julie performs a few of them too. Thanks to the concerts, they meet the other human interns that were on the other end of the ship and Carrie and Kayla form Dirty Candy.

The ship becomes known as the party bus.

A thing that will happen: Luke helps Julie write one of her history papers that she gets an A+ for and a comment about how dedicated she was to have delved so far back in the history records to get authentic insight.

Julie and Luke speak in memes but they don't speak the same memes and it drives them both up the wall.

Luke says yeet one day and Julie's soul leaves her body because she hasn't heard anyone say yeet since she was a toddler back on Earth.

Julie: odd display, but acceptable.

Luke, physically experiencing a record scratch: what the fuck did you just say

That is all I have to offer because I'm afraid of plotting further and causing angst somehow.

oh one more thing, someone gets to bang an alien and it's probably Flynn.

Oh oh oh another one more thing. Reggie says "this is just like in Star Wars" for literally anything. The band goes along with it for shits and giggles. The rest of them are very interested in this ancient tale called Star Wars. Reggie sees a picture of Flynn and her green gf and says "hey, you dated photoshopped Yoda" and Bobby just loses his shit.

[bbykpoper]

𝓔𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓫𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂 🍇

Inspired by this post 🌼

Pairing: ceo!san x sommelier!reader

Warning: sexual content in the story, read at your own discretion!

Index: Jongho // Hongjoong // Seonghwa // Yunho // Wooyoung // Mingi // Yeosang

･*:༅

"They’re sending in a sommelier from Italy!” The black-haired woman walked beside her boss, her heels clacking loudly on the tiled floor. “They said she’d be arriving today.”

The man stopped in his tracks, his sharp gaze looking back at his assistant. Her beige pencil skirt hugged her lower body perfectly, but today Choi San, head of the most renowned winery of South Korea, wasn’t having any of it. Their plans were simple for this season with the launch of their newest product, Elder Blow Wine, a wine made solely of elderberries and the first fruit wine in their winery. 

“They’re sending a woman to degust our wine?” He asked. “Miss Ahn, I am not in the mood for jokes today.”

“Yes. She’s the most famous sommelier in the world!” His assistant spoke glancing around his frame at the approaching figure. “They say she can either ruin ones business or make it strike gold.”

“And what is her name?” San was grumpy and not having any of this today.

They were so close to making so much profit but the Italian branch decided to send in a sommelier who would evaluate their progress. Not only on their new wine, but all the products they had lined up until now. Choi San was a prideful man who considered himself an expert on wines, there was not one person who was better than him at this field (unless you take into consideration his mortal enemy and crush who had been breed solely for the purpose to achieve glory in this business) and he really didn’t need some girl coming in to tell him her unnecessary opinion.

“y/l/n y/n.” The voice struck him by surprise as he turned to face the woman he hasn’t seen for more than 5 years. “Close your mouth Choi, it’s rude to stare a lady down with your tongue hanging out like a dog.”

San’s assistant held back a laugh as she quickly composed herself and went around him to politely bow to you in greeting, which you returned with equal respect.

“Welcome Miss y/l/n.” She smiled. “I’m assistant Ahn, I’ll be helping you with the schedule for the tasting this weekend.”

“Oh please just call me y/n.” You waved your hand, the action moving your suit jacket up a bit revealing some skin around your waist. “I’d like to know your name as well if you don’t mind.”

“Hyejin.” She answered you.

“Well Hyejin, I look forward to this weekend spent with you.” Your eyes moved towards the still shocked man and a smirk graced your dark red lips. “You haven’t changed one bit Choi.”

“And you’ve changed a lot.” Was the only thing he could mutter through his shock.

You stood there in your white suit, a black velvet shirt covering your chest and adding contrast to the outfit. The simple pearl necklace brought his eyes to admire your collar bones while your red lips had him weak in the knees.

Why did you have to show up from all the people on this planet?

“Sir, shall we?” Hyejin asked bringing him out of his trance. “We are due to show the windery to Miss y/n.”

With a curt nod and an amused expression on your side, the three of you made your way to the car which was parked outside waiting for you.

･*:༅

The view from this winery was breathtaking as you sat outside an marvelled at the fields of grapes in front of you. The sun was slowly setting as two glasses of rich red wine were placed on the table in front of you. You glanced up at the man as he took a seat, eyes also tracing the clouds in the distance. You took hold of the wine glass and sniffed it slightly closing your eyes at the rich aroma of grapes. You swirlled the red substance in your glass and took a small sip, letting it barely touch your tongue. 

“Interesting, this wine seems to have a strong flavor of alcohol.” You spoke. “Quite a dangerous aspect of you to try.”

“Some of our customers like to have a strong drink here and there.” San shrugged his shoulders, he watched your movements closely and was entranced with your delicate movements. “You’ve been gone for a long time y/n. I’m surprised that you even came back here.”

“I didn’t want to.” You were now facing him. “I enjoy my job of travelling the world and dinning in fine restaurants, enjoying a glass or bottle of their finest wine. But the CEO of the Italian branch insisted I go, I already know the language and have practically spent my childhood here.” You sat back crossing your arms over your chest. “Added I wanted to see you too.”

“You know I was surprised to hear how well you’ve climbed the ladder. Good job making CEO Choi.” You smiled at him mockingly.

“I thought you were going to make CEO too.” He said now with raised eyebrows. “Your family practically started this business. You guys are quite famous.”

“True.” You looked down at your glass in hand. “I was offered the position, but I refused it.” You made a little whirpool in the glass. “I decided to be a sommelier instead. I came to an agreement with my parents that my future husband will take over the business.” You finished the alcohol in your glass bringing your eyes up to meet his. “They already have a colourfull sort lined up for me.”

“Must be rough.” He commented with a tight lip.

“So, have you shagged your assistant yet?” You asked boldly making him choke on his wine.

“For your information, I don’t have to tell you shit.” He stated.

“So you have.” You laughed. “How many times?”

His face dead-panned into a not amused one. You raised your hands in surrender your laugh echoing around him.

“I’m just teasing.” The giggle on your lips had him on edge. “We’re just old frenemies talking, it’s not like you like me or something so I can’t know these things.” 

You stood up from the table and stepped away, ready to leave. But his hand caught your arm and you raised your eyebrow at him. 

“At least take me to dinner first.” You joked.

“I never said I didn’t like you.” He stood up along with you, bringing his whole body close to yours, breath mixing with yours. “You’ve always annoyed me but in a good way.” He brought his face close to yours. “A way I like.”

“I would have expected this from anybody but you San.” You said with a smirk, fighting off his grip in a way that he was now in yours. “Trying to seduce me so your winery could blossom gold Choi?” The way you twisted his arm had him grunt in surprise and pain. “You’re despicable.”

As you pushed him away anger coated your delicate face and he panicked seeing this reaction.

“I’m not trying to seduce you for that. I’m serious about this!”

“Sure you are!” You yelled back at him. “Try it with your assistant if you haven’t already! I’m not dumb Choi.” The fierce gaze you held with him evolved into something you couldn’t decipher in his. “Jesus, you’re disgusting.”

And with that you left. 

San watched in pain as you stormed off and kicked the chair over in frustration. Why did he do that? Of course it would come off as if he’s doing this to get good reviews! Why couldn’t he just keep silent and not move.

He leaned on the table and sighed.

･*:༅

The next day you decided to go down to the caffe which you knew was owned by one of your old friends. It was a cute set up which you would expect from your friend’s imaculate taste in design, with a large sign that read Sugarberry’s up front. You walked inside and noticed it was quite lively and bustling with people. You walked up to the counter and smiled at the young girl working behind itm just as she did to you.

“Hi, welcome to Sugarberry’s.” Her chirpiness reminded you of Mingi. “What can I get you?”

“Hi, is Mingi in?” You asked her.

“The boss?” She questioned as you nodded. “Sure is, he never leaves this place.” She giggled aloud and went back, coming out along with the tall man in tow. “Here he is.”

“Oh my gosh!” He squealed coming over to hug you. “I’ve missed you so much y/n. When did you land? What are you doing here? Do you want something to drink?”

“Easy there Mingles.” The laugh he gave you was contagious. “I’d appreciate a cup of coffee.” He motioned for the girl you talked to to make it. “Let’s have a chat. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

You guys took a seat outside and chatted along catching up with each others life and whatnot. You even told him why you’re here and how long you were staying in between your conversation. Also adding the San incident from last night.

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t know he liked you.” He scratched the back of his neck. “But, I’d also be lying if I said he didn’t do the occasional hook-up here and there.” He sighed. “I can tell you this one thing though. He’d never try to have sex with you just so he could up his winery.”

“But then why did he come on to me so strong?” You asked confused.

“Maybe he just doesn’t know how to act differently?” The girl who you learned worked here as a waitress spoke up as she brought over some cakes. “Sannie is an interesting character. He always comes off as untouchable and brooding, but I’ve learned his a softie. He always talks about his arch nemesis in a way that brings one to laugh how much in love he is with her.” She giggled. “And now I see why. You’re intimidatingly beautiful.”

“I love the fact he considers me his nemesis.” You sighed with a small pout.

“Maybe you should go over and talk with him. Let him explain and then make your assumptions.” She shrugged her shoulders and left back inside.

“Does your staff always give advice to customers when they have love life troubles?” You looked at Mingi with amusement.

“No.” He answered and looked after the waitress. “But she does.”

“She seems lovely Mingi.” 

“Yeah, she does.” 

Your friend had the serious case of heart eyes for his waitress.

･*:༅

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion when Hyejin directed the car towards a high-end appartment complex instead of the winery. You exited the car and walked up to the entrance along with her, but were left alone to enter the elevator and make your way to the penthouse. All the while you stood back and thought about the fact that this was surely one of San’s doings. If you remembered correctly this building is owned by his mother and he did live here.

The elevator dinged and you stepped off, impressed with the view of the city spread out in front of you. You walked up to the glass and sighed. You loved Seoul, but ever since you moved to Italy you enjoyed the fields of Toscana more. 

The soft arm around your waist startled you but you calmed sown when you saw San’s reflection above yours. 

“What is the meaning of this?” You calmly asked.

“I brought you here to enjoy dinner with me. Along with one of my winery’s best wines.” He said, guiding you by the small of your back towards a table which was set up nicely with food already prepared. “Consider this to be my apology for last night.”

“Well I did say take me out to dinner first.” You sighed as you accepted his gentlemanly manor of pulling out your seat. “So what kind of wine are we drinking today?” You could guess by the meat served before you but you wanted to see to which heights he was ready to go.

“Pinot Noir. If I remember correctly it’s one of your favorites.” He expertly opened the bottle and poured you a glass.

“Impressive.” You nodded your head. “Maybe Mingi was right.”

“What?” He blinked quickly in fear.

“Maybe you really do like me.” You smirked raising your glass to him.

“I will kill him.” He whispered out.

“Hey, maybe you should consider what’s happening right now and here than attacking him.” You snorted. “You’d be surprised just how much he tried to justify your actions.” You looked at him dead in the eye. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him and his waitress friend.”

The night continued on as you two talked more about life, wine making, business and stupid shit you used to do in college. You could say that yes, you were finally enjoying yourself with him. 

You both moved now to the living room, finishing the bottle of wine.

“Why do you consider me your arch nemesis?” You suddenly asked out of curiousity.

“Because you’re better than me.” San answered avoiding your gaze. “You got better grades in college than me. You made friends easily, even with the unapproachable me. You were never afraid to say what’s on your mind and you always stayed true to yourself.” He sighed. “I was envious of you.”

“I don’t really see why.” You glanced at him. “I don’t exactly have the best life. My parents brought me up to be their business protege. I never had rights, not even now when I’m at the age of finding a man and marrying him.” You laughed out loud remembering the stack of papers which were potential marriage partners being thrown on your table. “Gosh, I’m more pitiful than envy worthy.”

“I guess we’re both pitiful.” He laughed along with you.

“Did you mean it?” 

“Did I mean what?” He finally looked at you.

“That you want me?”

He looked at you in silence for a few minutes. He moved slowly up towards you, wary of any type of reaction you may give him. He was so close to your face that you felt the taste of wine on his lips, but you two haven’t even touched.

“What do you think?” He whispered out softly.

“Oh, just kiss me already.”

He smirked and did so. The kiss deep, rich and flavored. His hand strayed up your thigh and you sighed, electricity coursing through your body.

“Let’s move this to the bedroom.” He whispered out against your lips and pulled you towards him, hooking your legs around him and placing his hands on your ass so he can carry you more easily.

Your feet had lost the heels a long time ago and the bare skin felt the soft carpet of his bedroom. San’s hand slowly ghosted over your back as he started to unzip your dress, leaving a trail of kisses on your bare skin.

“I have a confession to make.” He said, his lips nipping at your jaw. “You looked so good in this dress I felt sorry to rip it.”

“Thank god you didn’t.” You smirked, ripping his shirt open not minding his shock. “It’s designer.”

“So is my shirt.” He argued back as you shrugged your shoulders.

He eyed you up and down, practically drooling at the sight infront of him. A finger slipped underneath the elastic of your panties, pulling it from your skin before letting go as it snapped back to your skin. He was stating that you were wearing too much and he was really not patient. He lost his pants in the process of pushing you on his bed, the top half of his body covering yours, his covered erection pressed against your heat. He kissed you harder and began rocking his hard length against your needy clit which made you moan into his ear.

He was kissing your breasts and freed them from their restraints. Only then did he wrap his warm mouth around one of your now hardened nipples which made you arch your back in pleasure. A moan came out as you felt a finger slowly swirling around your clit, your arms coming to wrap around San’s shoulders. Letting out a short hum and observing your reaction, his finger stopped its movements then slid toward your entrance, slipping in slowly.

San’s mouth sucked and teased one of your breasts, while his hand did wonders with your lower lips. It wasn’t long before you were shaking violently underneath him.

“I think it’s fair if I return the favour.” You snickered at his confused look before positioning him to stand.

You were on your knees, half of his cock in your left hand, the other half in your mouth. Every now and then, you’d come up and suck on his tip for a bit, which made San groan like crazy. His hand was on the back of your head guiding you as he shamelessly used your mouth. The sudden harsh pull to your hair popped his dick out your mouth and he had to use all his strenght to pull you up and kiss you like his life depended on it.

“I see that mouth is good for more than just wine tasting.” He chuckled.

“You’d be surprised.”

He took out a condom from the nightstand and rolled it gently onto himself as he positioned you onto all fours, ass in the air and pussy ready. “Oh fuck.” He rubbed his erection against you. “You’re so wet for me little one, are you ready?”

“Is this a daddy kink I’m hearing?” You teased and were rewarded with a slap to your ass. “Oh boy am I ready, daddy.”   

Without warning his huge cock rammed into your core, the porniest moan leaving your mouth and shaking San to the core. If he didn’t have so much control over himself he’d cum then and there on the spot. The skin was slapping against each other, one of San’s hands gripped your hair, arching your head back, your eyes beginning to roll back, your pussy fluttering around his cock.

“San I am so close.” Suddenly his thrusts got faster, his hand going over to your swollen clit, applying preasure to the sensitive nerve bundle.

“Hold on a little while longer little one.” He was chasing his own release, wanting to cum at the same time as you. After three more harsh thrusts he whispered in your ear. “Cum.” 

And cum you did, biting into the pillow, screaming into it, this was one of the most powerful orgasms you ever had. You didn’t hear San’s deep moans as he released himself into you, didn’t notice him pulling out, nor throwing away the well filled condom.

He carried you towards the bathroom, desperate for a shower. A supposedly quick shower turned into making out underneath the warm water for thirty minutes and two more rounds of electrifying sex which had you exhausted.

The weekend ahead was going to be pretty eventful.

･*:༅

“A 4.5 rating.” San spoke as he took a seat next to you on your private jet. “Not bad, I was expecting lower so this is quite the surprise for me.”

“The only surprise is the fact that your on my plane, while it’s in the air and heading for Italy.” You said shocked at his appearance.

“Yeah well, my father called me telling me I had business to take care of in Italy, so I figured I’d save some time and money by tagging along.” He took your wine glass, taking a sip out of it. “Something about marrying the y/l/n’s daughter and becoming top boss.”

“News travel fast I see.” You smirked at him.

“Especially when it’s a marriage arranged and practically in the workings.” He smirked back. “I’m just glad I won’t have to use a condom anymore. The lady at the pharmacy gave me weird looks when I went to buy some more the last time.”

“Maybe because we use up a pack of 12 faster than rabbits?” You shrugged your shoulders at him. “Are you really okay with this?”

“If I wasn’t I wouldn’t have told my dad to go forward with the arranging.” 

“So I guess we’re going to be husband and wife then.” You smiled at him, your rep lips stained with wine.

“I guess we will little one.” He smiled back, hand interwining with yours.

“But really, did you fuck your assistant?”

[cosmiclatte28]

Lie to Me (Jaemin x you)

Angst.. I am still learning to write angst that can really make you cry, but I can’t 

Warning : cheating is not a good thing.

Enjoy! 

When people say first love won't last long, you often question them. Why? Because apparently you see some people sticking to the end with their first love, and up to this day you believe your love story will end the same way or maybe even better. That was what you have in your mind living with two children under a comfortable roof with your first and last love, Na Jaemin. Today however, you start to question if there will be a happily ever after for you and Jaemin or at least for you. With what Jaemin have, there's no way he cannot get his happiness. Look at the amazing group of friends he worked with, look at the swooning number of fans! All of those fans out there are willing to die and kill for him. His income is flowing in regularly, he doesn't need to worry about heart breaks, it's either he broke heart, or he got broken and find another one. There are many fish in the sea and apparently this will work for Na Jaemin. It's been two years of hiding from public media and fans. Two years of holding on to the pain of not being able to tell anyone that you are dating the idol Na Jaemin. Eight seasons of sneaking Jaemin into your room or sneaking into the dorm. The members knew about you, but they are a good brother and they keep their mouth shut. Everything was worth the hustle the pain and the love, not until you got home from your tiring nine to five work and got greeted by a trending news. You take the bus ride home, wishing that Jaemin is now here beside you, holding your hand through the orange candied sky. You cannot lie that autumn looks good at some point and you actually want to be able to walk home with Jaemin while sipping on hot pumpkin spice latte. On your seat by the window, you open your phone and curiously click on the website that appears on the first Tweet you see. Right at that moment your eyes shake and your lips tremble. The loud voice of the busy road and bus engine were gone replaced by a long deafening silence. Your finger froze midway to the news and you lock your phone. There in the media, was a picture of Jaemin and a secret girl, along with screen shots of their chats and selfies. Luckily there was no bad news coming with it, the girl did not accuse Jaemin for anything bad, but the media was clearly stating "Na Jaemin, fan service king turns out to be dating a fan for three months."

Three months?! That's also how long Jaemin has been dumbly smiling to his phone at night, the time he woke up earlier than you did which confused you before, but now made sense. You try to remember all the odds he did in the past three months, you knew that style of chatting was Jaemin's and that is enough to convince you that your boyfriend might be cheating on you for three months without you realizing it. Stupid? Kind of. You got home after the long ride and with big stride you take the lift to your apartment, wishing with all your heart you have something to eat since you don't feel like going out. Right when you enter the house, the least expected man you want to see right now is already lounged over your sofa. There sprawled on your couch, is Na Jaemin in his sweet innocent sleeping face. You want to choke and strangle him with the pillow right now, but how can you when you see that fragile kid face. For a second you feel like you're the most evil person in the world, trusting rumors rather than asking your boyfriend about the truth. Looking at his sleeping baby face, you can't imagine Na Jaemin actually cheating behind you, but that's the point right? If he knew you won't slightly think or believe he is cheating, one might as well use the benefit right? Your mind is playing with "what ifs" and finally you choose to wake up the problematic person in your life right now. Jaemin squirms when you toss him a pillow to wake him up. "Hey my baby is home." He yawns and gives you that sweet smile while still having his eyes closed. He stretches and you cannot decipher if he is acting cute so you won't be mad as he explains the rumor or does this child did not know the news has spread. Your face was sour and he quickly catches on that you're not in a good mood and it's his goal to always bring back smile on your face. "What's with that evil with face?" You sigh, and sit down beside him. You hold his shoulder to face you and stare into his eyes deeply. "Please look at me," you whisper hopelessly Jaemin still has his confused face on. "Tell me what is going on Nana." Jaemin glances down to your phone, he clearly knows what you are talking about. Hell he already received a lecture from Taeil, Johnny, and Taeyong not to mention Jeno and Haechan. "You know I'm not like that right?" Jaemin swallows a lump on his throat, gosh the audacity he has to lie on your face. Your pupil trembles as they search the truth Jaemin nicely hide behind hid Idol eyes. You shake your head, "How can I trust you when I cannot read through you." "She's just a friend," Jaemin squeaks. "Is she really just a friend?" your voice cracks, Jaemin saw the news he saw the chat and oh it doesn't wonder if you think that snippet of chat is more than friendly. Jaemin cannot answer your question, he wants to fight back but he messed up. He cannot lie anymore to you, or can he? "I am sorry, I was not in my right mind." he reaches out to hold your hands, but you quickly hide them. "What do you mean by that?" your chest is raising up and down faster. Jaemin closed his eyes, "Some of them are true." Your heart shatters and you cannot think of anything else. Did he just shamelessly confess that he indeed was cheating? "You're lying!" you try to deny the fact, but Jaemin shakes his head. "I am not lying. I am sorry you had to discover it." Your eyes shot open, did he not expect you to know at all?! How belittling was that. He shifts closer to you, and you flinch "Stop Jaemin, give me some spa-" "Don't give me space, that's the least thing I want with you." His puppy eyes made a big impact here. "I know I shouldn't be here," you let out a huff Jaemin gets flustered, "What do you mean by that, I can explain we broke up already. I told her I was with you." "You deserve more," you whisper and tears finally fall down your face. "I'm scared." you stare in horror to Jaemin, this sweet angel has been lying on your face for god knows how long. Were you some kind of toy for him?! "I'm sorry. I swear I'll do things different this time, believe me..." He pleads to you. "I want to believe you, I do, but you're just going to hurt me again Jaemin," You shake your head when he pleads you with his eternal sweet angelic face. "Do you ever mean anything you say?" you ask him. Flashes of videos you see on the internet haunts you, Jaemin can easily say "I love you" to his fans and be called a fan service, but have you ever think if the one he gave to you were not a part of fan service too? Did he really mean it when he whispers "love" to your ears. Jaemin stays quiet, "I mean it," he whispers after a while. "You won't understand. Was I just another fan service thing to you? Did you see me also as one of those girls who will swoon over you when you do that?" you're hurt by the fact that this sentence was true. Look at you, not even realizing if he is cheating on you because you are blinded by his sweet nothings. "Can I hug you?" he asks slowly when you just stay quiet and out of your mind. You shake your head, "I need to go. See you Jaemin." You grab your bag and coat and rush to leave him. You need to clear your mind first, maybe a talk with the other members may help you keep your mind straight. The young boy crashes to the sofa, his eyes can no longer hold back his tears. In silence he sobs by himself, he knows he did something so wrong and it's his own fault this happens. "Am I too late?" Was all he asked when he think of the times he kept all of this a secret, it started as a harmless joke with a fan he find interesting in the fansign. Then the joke turns into small talks, to midnight calls, and to secret meetings. Jaemin did not mention he is dating you; it'll blow up your two years of hiding with him. But then one night he went over the border, teasing the fans and their chat was no longer on the side of friendship. It goes beyond and when Jaemin explains he needs to stop this thing, the girl blew up all of the secrets. Making distorted rumors here and there, You apparently was one of the victims of the media and Jaemin hates himself more with the fact that you did not even give him a chance to explain. Two hours later he got a voice message from Jeno. "Jaemin, she's here with us. (y/n) is alright, just meet her when you are ready and she is too. I think tomorrow she can see you." That was all Jeno left to him and that night Jaemin spends the night on your bed, realizing it was cold and lonely without you.

 want a next part? 

end or continue?

[purplecatghostposts]

If you're still doing the song writing ask thing,,, could I ask for frenmy(or as others call it,, frenreylatta) with 1 or 24? 👉👈 Or just frenmy in general I will appreciate and holde whatever

CANNNN do!!

(Also I’m juuuust now realizing these are song titles I just saw one word and went ‘LETS WRITE A DRABBLE OFF OF THIS’ oops- uh enjoy either way!)

—

For better or for worse, Tommy isn’t always taken completely seriously.

Which is fine. Tommy can brush it off, he might have some “Childish Interests” but he’s a grown adult, he can take a hit or two.

(Tommy doesn’t know why anything has to regarded as childish when anyone can and should enjoy anything and not get shit for it but that’s a whole other can of worms).

But when Tommy says things like, “Grab a soda, it’ll help you see faster!” Nobody thinks twice about it. Which is good, because Tommy didn’t mean to say it at all. There’s certain things Tommy doesn’t like to talk about and his more ‘Inhuman’ attributes is one of them.

Son of “The G-Man” has a few perks after all.

The ability to make his eyes glow and see in the dark, the ability to create- both living and non living things, immortality and the ability to share it with something like a dog he created with his own two hands, and most of all, a connection to Time itself.

Tommy has all of these abilities under control, except for the very latter of the bunch. Because turning on and off your eyes like a flashlight is something he’s been doing as a kid; Immortality he was born with, sharing it came to him in his late twenties; and while difficult, Tommy now has a bit of a knack for creation; but Time? Time is something else entirely. It’s its own entity, and not even his father has much control over it.

And of course, with a difficult entity like Time, Tommy got saddled with the worst ability to have little control over. His father, G-Man, can freeze, suspend, and even travel through it. Tommy can see it, and Time shows him too much.

Tommy does not dream, he Sees. The branches of time are shown right before his eyes whether he likes it or not, and possibilities are laid out. Time is not set in stone- there’s millions of timelines and ways it could go- and when he sleeps, Tommy can see them.

There’s no physical way to stop it without fully mastering it, but Tommy has found that there’s a few things that can make it more pleasant or at the very least, bearable. Low stress or going to sleep happy and content means he usually sees happier timelines. Caffeine, for whatever reason, means that when he sees timelines, it’s at a speed where he doesn’t have to comprehend anything or have to see something he doesn’t want to see. So far, it’s the only two methods he knows, and since he can’t always control how stressful his situation is, Tommy turns to soda.

He means what he says. Soda helps him see faster. He’s just glad that he doesn’t have to explain it to Gordon. His inhuman attributes used to scare other kids off when he was younger, and he knows that Gordon is an adult like him and probably won’t run, but the fear runs deep and Tommy keeps his mouth shut.

Benrey knows, of course. He’s not human either, he understood. But even when Tommy has bad dreams, he doesn’t like to bother other people about it. They’re just dreams, he can handle them.

Until they get personal.

Tommy has been seeing dreams about how it could end for them in Black Mesa for days now, but his intake in soda means he doesn’t really process them. They pass by in a flash and Tommy wakes up and promptly forgets about whatever was shown to him.

But of course, his luck runs out.

Tommy’s leg bounces anxiously as he stares at the broken vending machine. Nothing but water- no caffeine. Water is good for survival- Gordon gulps it down greedily then gawks when Benrey eats the whole bottle in one bite making Tommy laugh- but it means Tommy’s at risk for bad visions. And with the stress of soldiers starting to come at them as well as aliens, he suspects that tonight will not end well.

There’s a tug at his sleeve. Tommy glances down to meet Benrey’s eyes, who studies him silently. He knows something’s up- of course he does- but Tommy smiles like there’s nothing to worry about. Benrey won’t confront him directly- not unless he’s certain it’s really bad- but he has a feeling that Benrey’s still going to try something in his own little way.

“Getting late.” Gordon comments, rubbing his eyes. “We should probably get some rest.”

“Baby Feetman wants a nap?” Benrey grins lazily. Gordon rolls his eyes in response, but doesn’t look all that annoyed. He’s more relaxed than usual, looking less like he’s a twig about to snap and more a river who’s just going with the flow. In fact, Tommy swears Gordon smiles for a second.

“Shut up, you got dark circles under your eyes. You could use it too.”

Benrey rolls his eyes. “Haven’t slept this entire time, don’t intent to start now.”

Both Tommy and Gordon’s attention snaps to him. Benrey almost shrinks under the spotlight, looking utterly confused. “Uh... Care to fill a bro in on what I said wrong..?”

“You haven’t slept?” Gordon’s voice raises.

“Benrey, that’s not good for your health!”

“Jeez fuck- I don’t need to sleep to live, guys.” Benrey cuts in. “Not like you guys. Besides, someone’s gotta keep watch so like, I don’t sleep. S’not a big deal.”

“Benrey, you- you told me that half of your energy to use your abilities comes from sleep.” Tommy says slowly.

“Yeah, and the other half is food. What of it?”

Gordon joins in. “We’ve gotten the bare scraps of food down here. You- you have to be running on empty.”

“Don’t worry about it, Bro-”

“No!” Both Tommy and Gordon shout simultaneously.

Benrey jumps, eyes darting between the two of them and rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, this isn’t fair, you’re tag teaming me, I deserve someone on my team.”

Dr. Coomer pokes his head from around the corner, Bubby following. “Is something wrong? We heard some shouting!”

“Hey, Coomer, Bubs, you uh, you gotta back me up, they’re bullying me.” Benrey points accusingly at Tommy and Gordon respectively.

Bubby shrugs. “Just do what I did whenever someone bullied me.”

“Somehow I feel like this is going to be bad advice...” Gordon mumbles.

“Set them on fire.”

“Andddd I was right.”

Benrey pretends to consider it for a moment. Gordon rolls his eyes at him, earning a smile from Benrey. “But uh, these two keep yelling at me because I haven’t slept. Tell them to stop.”

Dr. Coomer frowns and Bubby narrows his eyes. Tommy snickers to himself, knowing Benrey isn’t winning this battle.

“You haven’t slept? What the hell do you think you’re doing? Fucking dumbass.”

“Benrey, sleep is an important function we all need to live!”

Benrey groans into his hands. Gordon grins cockily. “Hey, Bubby, Dr. Coomer, mind taking watch tonight while Tommy and I get Benrey to sleep?”

Bubby snorts like it’s obvious. Coomer smiles brightly and nods. “Of course! If anyone tries to come after you in your sleep, we’ll take care of them, if you know what I mean.” Coomer winks, then makes a punching gesture.

Gordon laughs at that. Tommy rather likes when Gordon laughs, his whole body moves with him. It’s wholehearted and genuine and if it were possible, Tommy would love to bottle it and keep it with him.

Tommy’s fully aware that he’s rather smitten with Gordon and Benrey. Benrey’s his best friend and Tommy is fine if it stayed that way, but he’s also felt a certain romantic fondness for him too. Benrey’s not easy to decipher but Tommy has learned he shows he cares in the subtle ways. How Benrey learns to read people and distracts them when they feel down. He’s done it to Tommy himself, and recently, he’s seen a very similar sentiment towards Gordon.

And Gordon wears his heart on his sleeve, which is endearing on its own. Tommy sees the way he acts around Benrey and around himself, and he can’t help but wonder if Gordon might feel the same way he does.

They find a place to camp out and before he knows it, Tommy has Gordon on one side and Benrey on the other. Despite lying on the concrete ground, Tommy doesn’t think he’s ever felt more comfortable in his life. Benrey’s curled up next to him and Gordon is lying on his side with an arm over him and Tommy feels himself get lulled to sleep. He doesn’t want to ever move again.

His dreams are not as kind as his situation. Because Tommy Sees all possible timelines, and one too many of them involve two of the people he cares about most in the world.

Benrey betrays Gordon and gets his hand get cut off. Gordon betrays Benrey and Benrey comes back not looking quite right. Gordon lets Benrey die, Benrey lets Gordon die, Benrey stands on an alien planet and attempts to kill everyone- does kill everyone. Gordon stands on an alien planet and sees Benrey being the thing they have to kill and he doesn’t hesitate.

They tear each other apart, no matter what Tommy says or does. And in a few timelines, their rage is directed towards him, and Tommy’s heart breaks into two.

“Tommy? Tommy, bro, c’mon, you gotta wake up.”

Benrey’s voice pulls him out of it. Tommy sits up, trembling and reaching out blindly. His vision is blurred and all attempts to speak come out as quiet sobs. A pair of hands grab onto his while a second gently touches his shoulder, grounding him to reality.

“Benrey?” It’s deathly quiet but it’s unmistakably Gordon’s. “Benrey- his eyes- is he okay? They’re- they’re gold-!”

“I know, dude, this happens sometimes, he’ll be okay.” Benrey responds, shockingly calm. “Tommy sees bad things sometimes when he goes to sleep and sometimes they’re overwhelming and this happens. Just... Trust me and follow my lead on this?”

A beat. Tommy tries to wipe his eyes but tears keep streaming down his face.

“Okay. I trust you.”

Tommy can’t see but he has a feeling Benrey is smiling a little at that.

Benrey and Gordon both begin to whisper reassurances and ask him what he can feel around him. They talk and talk and talk until eventually, Tommy can finally see them again and the anxiety in his chest is manageable.

“Thank you...” Tommy gives them a weak smile.

“Bad visions?” Benrey guesses. Gordon looks mildly confused but doesn’t ask questions. Tommy nods in response. “You... Wanna share or nah?”

Tommy’s gaze lowers. He sucks in a small breath. “It- it was a lot of bad timelines with you two. And I-...” He hesitated for just a minute but thinking of the timelines again made him push through it. “And I really care about both of you. A lot. In- in a platonic as well as a... A romantic way.”

Silence. Tommy swallowed thickly, not wanting to look at either of them and unsure if he made the wrong choice to tell them or not.

“Oh thank god, I’m not the only one.” Gordon blurted out. He let out a long breath, laughing softly. “I was- fuck, I was really struggling there.”

Benrey cracked a smile. “Cringe Gordon can’t deal with gay feelings? How embarrassing for you. Can’t believe I have gay thoughts for such a loser.” His eyes turn to Tommy and his smile grew. “I guess having gay thoughts for a really cool guy balances it out so it’s chill.”

Tommy couldn’t stop smiling. Was this really happening? Were they really all just on the same page? “R-really?”

Benrey shrugs. “‘M kinda surprised, thought I was obvious.”

“You’re not obvious with anything.” Gordon tells him, rolling his eyes but relaxing his shoulders.

“I...” Tommy let out a laugh. “I- I really care about you both! And- and after we get out of Black Mesa... I want us to stay this close.”

Benrey nodded. “‘Course we will. You’re some of my best bros and how else would I kiss you both goodnight like all bros should?”

Gordon snickered, then cleared his throat. “Hey uh... Have we all just been holding this in the entire time even though we all felt the same-!”

“YES.” Bubby screaming from across the room made all three jump in surprise. Bubby and Coomer were both sitting by the door, Bubby wrapped in Coomer’s arms but he still scowled at the three of them. “You’ve all been pining like a bunch of fucking idiots. Just ask a guy out by setting half a building on fire like a regular person!”

Tommy looked back at the other two and laughed to himself. Soon enough, the three of them were laying down again but this time, Tommy wrapped his arms around one each and held them close to him. In the morning, they could talk more about the three of them and their newly forming relationship, but for now, they deserved to rest.

Gordon’s head rested against Tommy’s shoulder while Benrey clung to him. Tommy felt his eyes get heavier and heavier but he wasn’t as afraid of getting a bad vision. Partly because he had two of the most important people in his life in his arms and he knew that those futures wouldn’t be his, but also partly because even if the visions did get to him, he had support when he woke up.

His own personal paradise. There was a light at the end of the tunnel and Tommy knew that by the end of this, he wanted both of them by his side and in his life for a long time.

—

I don’t know why this turned into a Tommy Lore/Angst Fest BUT hopefully it turned out alright! I hope you liked it! These three are veryyyy soft and it was sure fun to write! Feel free to send in another request if you want!