#I have been entertaining the name Ghost but it may or may not stick

[xivymoonartx]

first draft of a new oc 🎃

[sparkledfirecracker]

Guilty Pleasure

Request: Andy fucking his sister in law while Laurie is out of town for a week.

Word count: 5262

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit sexual content, explicit language, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), cheating but not really, spanking, fingering, penetrative sex, sibling rivalry, semi-bullying by a sibling, mention of re-marrying, porn without a real plot. If I missed any, let me know.

A/N: This contains cheating, do not read or interact if you're sensitive to familial betrayal. Jacob does not exist in this story. Anything you read is fictional and not based on actual events. This is not beta’d. Happy 2023, nonnie! May it be a great filthy and panty-wetting season. Tumblr ate your ask and I’ve tried to post this 3 times now. Hopefully this meets your expectations and thank you for dropping off the request (I’m sorry it took me so long) 😘. Enjoy!

I do not give permission to repost, publish or use any of my stories, that counts for media entertainment too. Reblogging, liking, commenting and ghost reading on the other hand is all allowed.

By clicking ‘keep reading’ or ‘read more’ you agree to be 18 or older.

Your relationship with your sister had never been loving, it always contained rivalry. Having wanted to curse your father for remarrying. Laurie was always being picked as the favourite in your eyes.

That is why it had surprised you the minute she had asked you to check in on her husband. Stating she was going to be out of town for the week. As a good sister you had agreed to her request, it also came in handy that you enjoyed spending time with Andy. He was generally nice and on top of that, good company.

Since you both worked together at the district attorney’s office, it immediately eased the awkwardness. With a slip of the tongue, you had offended Andy during lunch. Stating that you never had seen ‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off’. Andy practically had demanded you to come over for dinner and watch the film together.

As the day came to an end. You had declined his offer to give you a ride as you still had some errands to run for Neil. Andy had huffed at the mention of his name. Muttering that Neil hadn’t been worth all the extra hours so that he could get praise for the work you had done.

It had been almost two hours later than initially planned. “Andy, I’m home.” You yelled excitedly through the house as you stepped through the front door.

His muscular frame appeared in the opened-up arch of the kitchen. With a wide smirk, he placed his hands on his hips and scanned you from head to toe. A comforting warmth wrapped around you like a blanket preventing the cold from creeping in.

You weren’t prepared for the intrusive thoughts to flood back the way they did. Laurie had won the bet between you both all those years ago. It wasn’t so much a bet, it was more a way to give you stick for not going after what you desired. Your heart shattered the moment she told you she started to develop feelings for Andy.

Seeing Andy like this made all the old feelings resurface. The doting husband waiting for his partner to come home. A soft yearning for his touch or those lingering eye contact moments. Mentally rolling your eyes when you looked straight at his wedding ring. Wanting to curse yourself for having allowed their relationship to go on this way.

Their marriage was based on a lie. Laurie didn’t love him the way you did, all this yearning had stopped the moment they said “I do”. Only to find out now that those feelings never had been gone. Just stuffed and locked in an imaginary filing cabinet.

Insufferable reminders of what could’ve been clouding your head. That’s where Laurie thrived, your discomfort. And it had become her running joke, teasing you for fawning over the man that she fucked at night.

“I hope you like pizza,” Andy let out a heavy sigh, “I’ve ruined the pasta.” He confessed, supporting an embarrassed look. Leaning back against the counter of the kitchen island. His hands gripping the edge so tightly it almost seemed like it drained the blood.

Was he nervous? He couldn’t be, he had never been nervous when you were around in the past. Though the tension between you both could be cut by a knife.

“I brought beer.” You smiled, holding up the six-pack in your hand breaking the slightly awkward silence.

“You didn’t have to.”

“It’s not polite to come empty-handed.”

“You’re family, you’re not obliged to bring anything.” He gave you a smile grabbing the six-pack from your hands. Making his way towards the fridge, opening the door, and looking back at you. “Want one?”

“I prefer a cold one.”

He nodded, grabbing two bottles from a shelf while sliding your six-pack into one of the empty spots. He cracked open both bottles, handing you one.

A polite conversation followed as you settled yourselves in the living room. With the amount of pizza ordered, you suggested doing a taste test. Andy admitted that he didn’t know what you would like and had ordered multiple choices while he handed you a notepad and pen to scribble down your ratings of each slice.

He had started playing Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and you were so invested in the film. Almost blocking out where you were, losing track of your surroundings as the television sucked you into the story at least so you had hoped.

Your your mind wandered to other things. What would life look like if you and Andy had started dating? What if Laurie never had acted upon her impulses? He kept it neat and groomed, the bristles must be so soft. His beard would surely feel great on your skin. Those hands were large and probably very skilled. The way he gripped his beer bottle with precision and delicacy. The motion made you swallow hard, shaking your head slightly to gain back focus.

The thought of those fingers deeply buried inside you made you clench. How the curl of gesture would send you over the edge with much skill. His perfect lips wrapped around your clit, licking and sucking your core. Pleasing you in any and every way no man had ever done before.

You blamed it on the way he walked around the office. He truly must be very well hung. The way his bulge had once been shown and on full display. Remembering the way he had looked back at you through narrowed eyes. As if to tell you that you had been the reason his pants got awfully tight.

With a choked breath, your chest warmed at the sound of his laughter. Clamping a hand over your mouth when you let out a squeak from the slight shock. His eyes burned holes into your skin as you felt him watch. Though it was hard not to do the same every time he laughed at a funny part, either taking a sip of the beer in his hand or taking a bite from his pizza.

“You know you can sit on the couch, right?” The question sounded more like a demand, but you tried to avoid his gaze at all costs.

“I know, but I like sitting on the floor.” It was a swift reply, gulping your beer. Nervous feelings grew in the pit of your stomach.

“When your ass gets all stiff and tingling, you know where you can get comfortable.”

You almost choked on the gulp of beer you had just taken. Coughing and laughing as you tried to breathe. Andy slid over, softly patting and rubbing your back.

“Don’t say things like that Andy, I could’ve killed myself.”

“As long as I’m here, you’re free from harm’s reach.”

“How noble, my knight in shining armour.”

“Is that how you’ve been seeing me for all those years?”

His gloating face said it all. He knew about your crush on him. How? Did Laurie tell him? Was it all those stolen glances in the office or the ones here on his couch in his own home? Maybe even all the tortuous looks and hurrying out of the room whenever he was near in your college days?

You felt your face heat up, trying to hide your embarrassed expression. Blood pumped through your veins like it was about to blow your eardrums.

“I’ve known for years.” Andy confessed, “I must say I’m amazed and angered at the same time. You have denied yourself to try and win me for you. Were you too shy to ask me out for that sorority party?”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. There was no turning back. Lying to him or yourself wasn’t going to help either of you.

“Yes.”

“I need a little more words than that, sweetheart.” He inched his way closer to you.

“Yes, I was shy.” The lump in your throat felt uncomfortable.

“Why did you let Laurie treat you the way she did? Why did you let her win?”

“I don’t know. I should go home.” You rushed, trying to get up and run away from this mess that was unfolding. Instead, you were slammed back down, air left your lungs as you collided with Andy’s thighs. One hand kept you pinned down on his lap. The other massaging and squeezing your ass.

“It’s always been you that I truly wanted,” a warmth flooded your chest again. “Imagine my disappointment when you didn’t object during our wedding. Making me feel miserable and stuck in this marriage for years.”

Andy’s hand rubbed the globe of your ass, you gasped when his hand smacked your ass. Your muscles contracted under the impact but melted into the obtained position over his lap. The realization of him punishing you for all your past mistakes went straight to your core. Biting down on your lip to stifle the moan from breaking free.

“I’m sorry, Andy.”

“Are you really, sweetheart?” Andy asked, leaving another imprint on your ass.

“Yes.” A desperate cry for him

“How about you being exceptionally quiet and showing me how well you can take your punishment.” The question was laced with a promise. A firm one at that. “I’d like to hear how sorry you really are.”

You simply nodded bracing for impact, but it faded to surprise when he lifted your skirt. Andy hummed with satisfaction as your lace panties and garter set became exposed.

With each collision of Andy’s hand, your ass became more and more sore. Every harsh slap felt more raw than the previous one. Making you bite your lower lip, trying to keep the sounds muffled and still.

“Are you going to be good for me?”

“Yes.” You replied,

“I think you can do much better than that.”

Another smack burned on your skin. You nodded your head, crying out an “I’m sorry, Andy.”

You were surprised when Andy helped you sit back on the couch. Hissing at the burn of your ass on the fabric. Your mascara had stained your cheeks from the few tears that had slipped from the arousing pain.

His fingers softly brushed your cheek. Gathering the melted makeup or maybe even smearing it further. There was no telling in his movement.

“You look beautiful.” The whisper was barely audible and spoken with true admiration. Without thought, you pressed your lips against his. Feeling him smile into this moment. Probably because it had been the first time since you took charge of what felt right.

“Tell me you want this.” Andy breathed against your lips, as the kiss broke. Your eyes flickered open, meeting his gaze. Worry and hope both dancing in the blue hue of his eyes.

“More than anything.” It wasn’t a lie, but it would be wrong to act upon these feelings. “We can’t.”

“Laurie won’t mind. She doesn’t love me the way you love me.”

“But-”

His lips interrupted the speech you were about to recite. Guilt clearly wasn’t on Andy’s mind. The way his tongue explored every part of your mouth like he was on a scavenger hunt. Stroking, teasing, pleasing and obscenely filthy. He made you hungry for more.

Not even your wildest dreams could’ve prepared you for the searing passion. His large hands cupped your face guiding you to lie down. The moment he had you underneath him, his hands ripped your silk shirt with haste. Neither of you cared enough for the pearl buttons that flew across the room.

With a darkened hunger he glanced back at you. Toying your nipples through the laced fabric of your bra between his fingers. You arched off the couch as he pebbled and tugged on your breasts. Swiftly pulling the delicate lace down, taking one of your boobs into his mouth. You whined at the erotic swirl of his tongue, nothing but lustful precision.

His hands found the zipper on your skirt. Tugging the item off, discarding it on the floor. Running his hands over your garter belt. The look on Andy’s face said it all, he hadn’t seen anything like it in a long time. Making you his shiny new toy, ready to be devoured and owned.

You leaned up, cupping his face and pulling him into a desperate kiss. Feeling his hand smoothly moving over your panties. Your body had now become his playground, making you desperate for him. With a pout he broke of your kiss, searching for your approval as he pulled aside the material of your panties. A softened smile was enough for him to slide his fingers through your heat, coating them in your juices.

Andy brought his finger to his mouth, groaning loudly as he licked them off. You tried to look for that one moment where you would both find a reason to break this off. Yet all you found was a deepened craving to need one another.

You watched Andy lean down. Kissing his way around your thighs. The soft hair of his beard tickling and teasing your skin. Gasping at the tender lick from the tip of his tongue against your clit followed by a gentle kiss. Another lick gathered more of your soaked core. Sucking on the pulsating nub. His tongue explored every crease and crevice of your cunt.

The throbbing ache builded between your legs while Andy gently licked through your folds. Circling the tip of his tongue over your clit, making sure to tease you enough until you let out a soft whine. With every sound you made from his touch, he sucked down and placed a kiss.

He spread your legs wide, needing more space than you currently allowed him. For a moment shame coursed your body, closing your legs as far as he allowed you to. You covered your face with your arms as if to shield your emotions from him. Andy’s hands squeeze your thighs harshly, making you inhale sharply.

“Don’t you ever dare hide from me.” He warned, peeling your arms off your face. A fiery kiss pressed against your lips. Your moan seemed enough for Andy to start more exploration. Leaving your lips, pecking your jaw. Nibbling your ear, tracing your neck. Sucking, licking and teasing in order to make you focus on the sinful pleasure.

The suck of his mouth on your breasts made you arch further into him. The way he played your body like a fiddle. Making you sing a different tune. Allowing you to float on cloud nine when he had barely done anything yet.

The softness of his hands stroked your legs. Comforting you in this odd situation. Making sure to let you know it was okay to give in to him and enjoy this just as much as he did. Your panties were hooked around his fingers. Letting them be pulled down and thrown into the room.

The grip of his hands was a little rougher when he pulled your legs apart again. Coming face to face with your soaked cunt. You tried to read his face, a certain glow of admiration spreading across his features.

“Beautiful.” He praised. The whisper of his voice penetrated your mind. He clearly longed for you just as much as you longed for him.

His large palms held your ass, while the tips of his thumbs explored the outer edges of your pussy. For a moment you stopped breathing at his gentle touch. Juvenile play as if he was exploring what stroke would give him a reaction.

You watched Andy lean forward, feeling his tongue toy with your clit. Flat swipes, gentle circles and a rhythmic change between a slow and faster pace was enough to make you cry out for him. Your hands found the strands of his fluffed-up hair. Making sure he knew you appreciated his delicate touch.

His tongue swiped back and forth through your lips. Sucking his lips around your clit as he reached the top. Lewd noises filled the air as he drank up your juices.

His possession became clear when you tried to shift into another position. His large hands held you in place. Making sure you felt every bristle of his beard and movement of his mouth. His tongue sank deeper and with more pressure like a deprived man who had been kept from his dirty little secret.

You tugged his hair at the eliciting feeling building in the pit of your stomach. His beard rubbed your sensitive cunt as his tongue worked its magic. The feeling too overwhelming making your hands try to stop him. Andy hadn’t waited long to stop his actions. He furrowed his brows in annoyance.

“When I’m down here, you don’t get to interrupt me. Understood?”

“Yes-yes.” You stammered out under his gaze.

With a single nod, you felt his tongue deep between the lips of your pussy again. Delicate kitten licks toying with you and with each moan it spurred him on to fasten his actions. Burying his face for a deeper taste of you.

With a harsh suck, he popped your clit from his mouth. You felt him smiling against your pussy. Happy to be between your legs. Allowing you to play and tug his hair as long as you didn’t interrupt his meal.

His tongue flicked your pulsing clit while his thumb rubs up and down your hole. Gathering all of the dripping nectar with his mouth. Feeling the pressure of his other finger digging into your ass. Your hips bucked for a second and he pushed his thumb in.

Sobbing at the assault on your cunt only allowed for his tongue to rapidly flick and swirl your clit. The thrust of his thumb didn’t feel big enough. Only making you whine and whimper for more of his touch.

Another finger joins as you feel two fingers sliding up and down your pussy. “Yes!” You exclaimed at the relief of the soft stretch. Whining when he slid them back out.

Andy’s explored every inch of your soaked core. One of his fingers teased your entrance, making your body writhe under his touch desperately. Feeling two of his fingers slide inside felt like a gift. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he scissors them inside. Pulling them in and out to draw more of your juice out.

No man had ever given your cunt this type of attention. Not with this much precision. He hummed at the taste of everything you were giving him. Your moans increased as he made you feel so good.

“Oh fuck.” Your head craned backwards as you pulled his face closer to your cunt. Not wanting him to leave.

With a twist of his wrist, he curled his fingers against your sweet spot. Everything was happening so fast, you couldn’y even think about wrong or right anymore. His hand was covered in your sweet nectar, lapping it up with his hungered mouth. Drawing everything out that you’re giving him.

Your orgasm builded quickly, nothing but gasps, moans and whimpers leaving your body. Bucking your hips against his face was punished with his strong arm holding you down. Clearly sending you a sign that he would do all the work.

The burn of his beard had subdued due to the ecstatic feeling that rose. The squelched noises filled the air as your cunt drenched his fingers.

“Andy, please.” You screamed at the erratic pumps. Your legs clamped around his head. The spasms of your body erupted from his assault. “Please, stop, Andy.”

Shuddering around his fingers made him still his fingers and pull back from your pussy. His bewildered gaze met yours. He was a man on a mission. The grip on the couch eased up, as he let you have a moment to catch your breath.

Drawing his fingers from your core, he plunged them back in. Clearly sending you a sign that he would be the one making all the decisions tonight. Your trembling body assaulted another time as his mouth worked your core. Soft kisses and strokes helped you through your high. Working with you to come back down from the heavenly state he had put you in.

Andy got up without a warning. Holding out his hand for you to grab. Your cunt still pulsating from the mindblowing orgasm, making it hard to stand up. Rolling your eyes at this uncharming moment as he guided you up the stairs.

As he opened the bedroom door he turned back at you. Suddenly everything was starting to become too real as you stood in front of him vulnerable and naked. Guilt clouding your mind once again. Andy grabbed your waist, pulling you closer and swiftly turning your bodies, making you walk backwards. His lips teasing yours with soft pecks.

“You’re overdressed, Barber.”

He threw his head back laughing at your words. Releasing you from his grasp, undressing quickly. You glanced down your body, noting you still were in your own lingerie. Unclipping your bra, letting it fall to the floor.

Your fingers hooked under the garter belt around your waist. Andy stopped your hands from acting any further as you tried to slide it off. He raised an eyebrow, giving you a warning, watching him slide down his boxers. Gulping when his cock springs free as he pulls his boxers down.

Andy was bigger than any other man you had in the past. One thing was clear, Andy Barber wanted you more than anything. He was going to be yours for a night. Fuck Laurie and her stupid comments that still had haunted you.

You would devour him one time and then cut all ties. A way of getting him out of your system. Your hands wandered over your ass up your hips and waist. Gliding over your breasts, tweaking the nipples between your fingers.

“You’re so gorgeous, sweetheart.” Andy praised, stepping towards you. His hand settled at the base of your neck while the other cupped your cheek. His lips were hungry, searching for an entry. A filthy swipe of his tongue against your lips. Caressing your palate and dancing with your tongue. He guided you back towards the bed until you could take no more steps.

His cock pushed against your stomach, making the excitement shoot through your veins. Andy ground into you, making you clench around nothing. Humming at the strokes of his tongue, yelping when he suddenly pushed you down on the bed.

Taking advantage of your surprise he flipped you over. Climbing behind you with his knees settling on either side of your body. His hands resting beside your head, pressing loving kisses on your cheek, down your shoulder while tracing wet and sloppy marks down your spine. With every move, he slowly sat back up.

His hands caressed your ass, admiring the view underneath him. Slightly tilting your hips so your ass would spread a little, granting him more access to your pussy.

Andy ran his cock through your soaked core. Coating himself while working your excitement up again. He tapped your pussy with his length before sinking in his tip in to tease you. You gripped the sheets letting out a muffled moan.

“Please, Andy, I need more.”

“So desperate for my cock.”

“Please, fuck me.” You begged, feeling him pull out of you.

Andy repositioned himself, spreading his knees wide, making sure he all leverage over your body. A darkened smile held his face. With a single deep thrust, he nearly splitted you in half. The allowance to get used to his size was short lived when he bottomed out.

“So tight for me, sweetheart.” Andy husked, taking in every expression you displayed as you tilted your head to look back at him. He was looking for discomfort, but all you returned was a smile when he pushed back inside your walls.

His hips rocked in and out, stretching your cunt and easing off the burn. He pulled out, slowly dipping in and out of your dripping cunt. Your hands reached back to spread your cheeks for him while he slowly kept sinking in further and further.

Your hips kept lifting as he kept plunging in and out of your hole. He grabbed your hands, stopping the spread of your ass, guiding them upward above your head. With a rough grasp on your hips he impaled you deeply. Driving his cock inside your wet walls eagerly.

Soft whines escaped when he pounded you from behind. Working up your orgasm as he slided into you over and over again. Clenching around him when he angled his cock just right against your sweet spot.

He drew your body close to his when he rolled you both sideways. The pumps of his cock added more and more pleasure in this newfound position. Your foot rested on his thigh. Feeling his lips marking your neck. His large hand kneading your breasts, pinching your nipples and making you sob at the pleasure swirling in your veins.

You squeezed around him, suddenly releasing more frantic ruts from him. The muscles of your body tensed at the spearing motion. Andy’s hand circled your waistline finding your swollen clit. His flat fingers rotated your overworked cunt. Making you squeeze him even harder as you couldn’t withhold from cumming. You trembled in his hold as he kept you close.

He slid out and laid back, his cock still throbbing as you turn your body towards him. You licked your lips at the glistened length.

“I want to admire your view. Ride me, sweetheart.” Andy ordered

It was a different request than what you initially had in mind, but it wasn’t one you were going to deny him if it meant more pleasure for you both. Soaking up every inch of love Andy was willing to give you before you had to part ways.

Throwing your leg over, he holds his cock for you to sink down on. Your mouth fell open at the renewed positioned feel of his width. Halfway there he let you take control. Sliding his own hands up your body playing with your nipples and kneading the squishy flesh of your breasts.

“So good.” You gasped, bouncing gently up and down his cock. Watching Andy’s teeth sink into his bottom lip. Upon impulse you respond by leaning forward as you keep riding him. Your lips meeting, kissing him fiercely.

With your hips circling his cock his hands were free to roam and caress your body. His hands stroked the small of your back down to your ass, helping you push down further on his cock. Pulling you back into him when you lift a little too high. Meeting the slow rocks of your hips while your mouths desperately fuck one another on their own rhythm.

His arms circled your waist, holding you down, fucking up into your drenched cunt. Breathlessly you break off the searing kiss as he fucks you deeply. His eyes watch you closely, admiring your beauty as you work up to another orgasm.

Andy flipped your bodies, making your legs fell open. He sank back in deeply, resting his arms beside you. Your needy body right where he wanted it. You’re vulnerable while he was in total control. He slowly rolled his hips into you. The friction was deep and loving. Your legs circled his waist, holding him within close proximity.

His ruts deepen with every pound, making it harder for you to breathe. Every inhale was met with a cry of pleasure. Your sobs only made him pump you harder. Fucking you harder into the mattress. You were about to reach another high when he swiftly pulls out and pumps himself on your stomach. His white ropes painted your flesh.

“I want to pump you full of me.”

“Then fuck me, Andy.”

A consensual agreement, not one of you had thought of a condom. Too busy drinking up one another. Without another word, he slid back inside your walls. Opening one leg while resting the sole of your foot against his shoulder. Slowly you fell apart as your muscles tensed up again.

A rough pounding as he fucks you deeply. Taking him to the hilt, creaming his cock with your arousal. His hand took a hold of your ankle and he pressed his lips against the inside. You watch him lean his head back, feeling his cock twitch inside you.

Andy chased his own high with a guttural growl. The orgasm rippled through you, trembling underneath him. Your body screamed for him, feeling his hot cum filling you, squeezing him dry, needing every last drop as if he was your antidote to the venemous bite.

Freshly fucked dumb and pleasured. You were taken by surprise when Andy dove back down between your legs.

“You’re going to give me one more, sweetheart,” Andy stated, clearly not having gotten enough of your sweet taste.

The swipe of his tongue feels glorious, making you sob at the feeling. He hovered back over your body, kissing your lips and letting your taste your mixed pleasure.

His beard scraped your folds, while his greedy fingers pump your filled cunt. Andy drank from your pussy like it was his last drink. The swirl of his tongue circled your clit. The perfect suction on the pulsating nub. Dragging his flat tongue over your soaked hole. The sweet nectar with his cum dripping generously.

Your hands entwine themselves in his crazed hair as he vigorously pumps you with his digits. The sweet moans filled the room, as you felt the perspiration covering your body from being overstimulated.

Andy worked your pussy like a professional. His mouth not leaving your clit while his fingers did all the pounding. Curling and twisting them inside you. Your body started to spasm against his tongue when he penetrated your hole.

Drenched for just Andy as he licked you clean. Exhausting your body to the limit. Squeezing every ounce of liquid from it, like it was his mission.

Your throbbing core had pushed out all of his cum by now. The thought of him cleaning you out from his own cum made you even more aroused. Your muscles tensed up, making the ache of another orgasm even more pleasurable.

“Please andy, don’t stop.” You whined, feeling his thick tongue licking your clit.

Andy continued until your body stopped writhing. Fully saturated when your final orgasm had taken over. He pecked your cunt with his lips. Admiring it in its whole, while watching it pulsate around nothing. The ache was still there, but it was worth it.

“You did so well for me, sweetheart.” Andy smiled, leaning upwards. His body was on top of yours, pressing his lips against yours, stroking your hair as you willingly circled your legs around his waist. Locking him into your grasp with your ankles linked.

An intimate and vulnerable moment of just you and Andy. A moment that should’ve happened years ago. But now, it was too late. The damage was already done. Guilt overtaking your body.

“She’s seeing someone else.” Andy whispered softly as if he could sense your thoughts. Your eyes grew at the spoken words. How did he know that? “I’ve known for a while. She wasn’t ready to tell the family yet.”

The heavy weight on your shoulders immediately lifted your mood. His arms circling around your waist, holding your body tightly against his.

“Why didn’t you start with that news earlier?” With a balled fist you hit his arm.

He laughed and without answering he kissed you passionately like he had waited his entire life to do so.

[libraincarnate]

astrology notes: 10 🌈✨🦄🍭

quick note: i'm absolutely not an astrologer. these are just a collection of some observations, thoughts, theories, and personal experiences. with that being said, i'm still learning along the way & i may come back to edit this post to make corrections. above all this is just for fun. lastly, keep in mind that i’m not reading your birth chart and i know nothing about you. these are just some possibilities that may or may not apply to you. enjoy!

🫧 taurus in the 6th house: may prefer to refrain from modern medicine most of the time. for example, they may not like to take pharmaceutical drugs such as ibuprofen or tylenol (pain relieving drugs). if they have a headache they may turn to herbs, essential oils, or they just endure the pain if they can.

🫧 lilith in the 9th house: may experience religious trauma. they may have religious parents who forced them to accept their religious beliefs. if they believe in God they may feel disappointed or hurt by Him. going to church may have been a stressful or unpleasant experience. these experiences may be even more likely if moon is at 1° 13°, 25°, or 22°.

🫧 moon trine neptune: people with this aspect tend to be slow to anger & quite forgiving, usually they’re not the type of people who hold grudges.

🫧 mars square sun (synastry): these two people typically clash. the mars person finds the sun person annoying, could be one of the most annoying people they know. mars person may not like the sun person’s personality and character, and they probably don’t care for a relationship with the sun person.

the sun person may be more open to having a relationship with the mars person but they consider the mars person irritable or a bit mean, someone serious & aggressive, someone to be careful with.

it’s hard for the two to get along.

🫧 pisces: not to be stereotypical, but these people are always looking at someone’s shoes. for some, if you have a bad shoe collection that may be a turn off or give them ick.

🫧 sag in the 7th house: a popular placement. loved by many and probably always receiving gifts & compliments. but they may be flighty in relationships, quick to ghost people, & they also have high standards. if you get them to stick around whether it be in a platonic or romantic relationship, they must really like something about you and your company.

🫧 geminis & leos are often described as energetic and lively but aries too. aries have a lot of physical energy. gemini & aries lowkey remind me of cats when they get the zoomies. aries may direct that energy into sports, dancing, exercising, sex, but they also have tons of mental energy which contributes to their drive and ambition.

🫧 sag, libra, gemini, leo, & 5th house stelliums: the life of the party. people probably come up to them, asking for their name/number, wanting to chat with them, trying to flirt with them, dance with them, or simply be around them. they bring the fun and entertainment. funny, animated, dramatic, friendly, and people gravitate towards them in social settings. the types to encourage more shots or to keep the night going even though it’s already 3am.

🫧 leo/sun dominants: when it comes to their hair, it’s not always thick and voluminous, it can be thin but they have a lot of it and so it appears big.

^ and yes, i know the signs aren’t the same as the planets but the planets do rule the signs and i’ve noticed that you may get some personality and physical traits associated with the sign that your dominant planet rules.

for example, if you have no pisces placements but you’re neptune dominant, you may feel like you have some pisces traits or your feet may attract a lot of attention in your life (compliments, health problems, etc)

🫧 while capricorns may be pessimistic, they aren’t debbie downers in the sense that they won’t vocalize their negative thoughts around others or dampen the mood. they may complain a lot but they’ll keep it to themselves.

🫧 virgo is another natural beauty and they may not want to get tattoos. they may prefer to remain natural with clear skin, so they avoid something so permanent on their body. if they do get tattoos they may be small, neat, and inconspicuous. unless they’re mars, pluto, uranus, or 8th house dominant or they have those planets in their 1st house or something.

🫧 having 2nd & 8th house placements like mercury or mars: these natives are naturally good with financial matters. tend to be well versed in business, finance, math, and just handling money. may be into stocks, crypto, or possibly have their own business. finance and sales may be something that interests them, something they put a lot of energy and productivity towards.

🫧 pay attention to the houses where your dominant planets fall, there’s a lot of focus/energy there and it’ll probably be an important and prominent area of life for you.

🫧 cancer: they naturally make people feel comfortable and welcomed. they probably have good hospitality and take pride in it. cancer is quite private and so they may not feel comfortable opening their house up to just anyone but they would do so well has hosts. they may have a flair for planning home dinners, parties, holiday gatherings, etc. the way they decorate their space & the attention they show their guests creates such a chill and inviting atmosphere.

if you read this until the end i hope you enjoyed it & thank you so much for reading. ♥︎♥︎♥︎, those hearts are for you.

[vstridb]

HSHQTASK059: FAREWELL !

when did you join ? what made you join ? what do you remember from the plotlines that were current at the time ? where were you in life when you joined and where are you now ?

i joined in early (?) 2017. i had a lucky blue smith fc but that lasted for a hot minute and i ghosted LMAO. then i reapplied with astrid and as a bernadotte, i had sooo much fun <3 i don't remember ANYTHING, i'm sorry i just don't. i think irenton was still in its slowburn era. i was still in high school, about to graduate. now i have a master's degree and i'm working, crazy stuff!!!!

which characters have you written over the years ?

astrid, uriah 1.0 and 2.0, vitaliya, verona, francisco / francois, arvid, a dudley o'shaughnessy fc ( for 1 sec before ghosting )... i think that's everyone ???

what is your favourite plotline that you've been part of ?

i had a lot of fun writing chimei. i think it was the height of hshq for me so it really sticks out to me. idk if the bernadottes as a whole count as a plotline ? i'm such a sucker for them. the NUMBER one plotline though would be the russian plots vitya was part of. i think it's a sign of a good plotline when a 60-year-old character's threads are interesting and have me logging in. i don't want to name every plot but i have to give a mention to italy's stuff. i picked up verona because there was a huge hole in the hshqverse since italy had no rep, and i figured i'd survive without any nephews and nieces but then you all came back and i was so overjoyed <3 verona's story became so much more fulfilling for me to write.

what about other people's plotlines ?

i know i was kinda involved but watching the basel thing evolve was super entertaining. i liked the whole thing from beginning to the end. as for smaller plots, i think the spanish fires fucking up first zhergi and the farnauld has to be my fave thing. it was so wild and i LOVED the fact that a 3 year-old-plotline still had an effect on current threads and in such a surprising way <3

who is your favourite character from the ones you've played ? why ? what made you love them ? what made them so fun to write ?

astrid.... of course it's astrid. she was my age so i mirrored a lot of problems from my own life and made them hers. obviously they were exaggerated problems and shit but through astrid i got to write about emotions that were current to me. it was therapeutic and fun. i've loved all of my characters a lot though. vitya was so special because she was a character like no other. i loved creating her backstory and i had so much fun working on her psyche. a former USSR with a modest background, now an extremely influential duchess ? i loveeed it. it was so different and writing her inner monologue was so satisfying.

if you could relive a plotline, which would it be ?

i think the beginning of chimei. there was something about it. it moved naturally. i really miss the time.

is there a plotline that you'd edit now if you could ?

i'd speed up ilstrid so that we would actually get to write them getting together. i'll take the blame for ilstrid never really taking off lmao sry about that evy. i also wanna say that ilstrid is one of my fave ships because it was so easy and not-at-all-stressful to develop. it may have not reached its end, we didn't get a satisfying ending but i think it was so much fun to portray that kind of a love story. i wasn't a fan of friends-to-lovers trope but ilstrid is still one of my fave ships <3

what's a plotline you wish you would have been able to finish before closing or just write more of ?

ilstrid akfndsjkgbsnjg but also i think i would have enjoyed writing verona as the grand duchess of austria too. i do regret never applying for an austrian. it was something that "i'll do later" and never did it. it was partly because i didn't have a plotline for an austrian and couldn't naturally come up with one :(

what is your favourite ooc memory ?

when we brought the zulus. i don't think anything topped it. we made some really fucking shady and weird online chatroom to figure out the zulus' backstory and it was so much fun. i hadn't been that excited for something in a long time!!! and i think i'll have to mention all of the late nights of chatting with people. it was a big part of the hshq experience. we were all actual friends and i loved joking around. and i'll say it here now because this is so embarrassing but honestly i've always felt so appreciated when people have used the term naomi'd. it felt like a nickname fkjsgnjkgn and i'm glad i never upset anyone with my pushiness skdgngj

where can others find you if they want to get in touch ?

i'll disappear, i'm sorry but i think it's inevitable. i've enjoyed the chats and like i said i've loved to joke around but i'm not a person who really does online relationships. hshq was an exception and it'll stay as one. if you guys ever start writing again, pls im me or @ me. if it's meant to be, i'll stumble upon the message at the right time <3

what else would you like to say ?

oh dear ! i have so much to say but not enough words to express my feelings ! seven years is a long time to be part of something and i never expected to remain here for such a long time. i've been allowed to write and plot and create complex and inspiring plotlines with you, and i think it's been exceptional. hshq was something else among rpgs. anyone who has been part of this, has to agree. i think it says a lot that even though the dash died, on the very day of closing, six or so members did the final task. and i have a feeling we'll see many 058 and 059 tasks this week. i've laughed a lot with you, i've stayed up until the little hours just to be part of the experience, i've cried at your writing... i think honesty hours will be the epitome of joy for me. they always made me laugh and the energy was unbeatable. hshq has given me so much joy and has taught me a lot ! about people, about writing, about the english language and photoshop !!! you guys have no fucking idea how grateful i am of this experience and i wish i could relive it --- and that's a really good sign. sometimes we are glad to reach the ending but i don't think that applies here. this spring will feel different and this week will feel horrible. i have to admit, i'm not exactly ready for this and it feels so silly because it was 'just rp' aksfdbjdsgs thank you everyone for these years, the late nights and the amazing experience <3

[crownmemes]

The X-Files Sentences, Vol. 6

(Sentences from The X-Files (1993-2002, 2016-2018). Adjust phrasing where needed)

"I see your renowned arrogance has been left quite intact."

"You can kill a man but you can't kill what he stands for... Not unless you first break his spirit."

"I'm willing to believe, but not in a lie and not in the opposite of what I can prove."

"I'm asking you to trust my judgement - to trust me."

"Use your head; it'll save your ass."

"I want you to do me a favour. It's not negotiable. Either you do it or I kill you. You understand?"

"I don't care what you do, or who you do, or who you have to grease - I need that information, and I need it now. Are we clear on that?"

"Will you please stop trying to pick a fight with me?"

"Lost time is a common symptom of close proximity to anti-gravity propulsion systems."

"Accept who you are, however repulsive that may be!"

"I'd kiss you if you weren't so damn ugly."

"Ghosts are benevolent entities. Mostly."

"Are you overcome by the impulse to make everyone believe you?"

"Most people would rather stick their fingers in a wall socket than spend a minute with you."

"Oh, that's, um... That's self-righteous and narcissistic of me to say, isn't it?"

"I keep calling it a nightmare, but how many people's nightmares come true?"

"I'm not suggesting anything. I think the facts speak for themselves."

"I just wanted what everyone wants..."

"How can a frog tell a swan that he loves her?"

"I've seen how you two gaze at one another."

"Well, it seems to me that the best relationships - the ones that last - are frequently the ones that are rooted in friendship."

"I don't buy your hollow threats."

"I have neither the authority nor the will to allow your continued inquiry into this matter."

"You know, most people want to live forever."

"Death only looks for you once you seek its opposite."

"I could never have scripted the events that led us to this. None of us could."

"The truth is out there. Maybe you should find it for yourself."

"You need to show me that you're capable of handling the responsibility that comes with this knowledge."

"Nothing you could ever find would be accurate or credible."

"I can't tell you how wrong you are. How wrong you've always been."

"They never question it, do they? Your power and authority? When you're really such a coward."

"At some point, you just have to accept that the only way those you love are going to survive is if you give up."

"Far worse can happen... And it will."

"When did you get a waterbed?"

"You want to make that honeymoon video now?"

"If we ever go undercover again, I get to choose the names, okay?"

"Don't underestimate a woman. They can be tricksters too."

"Motive is never easy. Sometimes it occurs to one only later."

"You are making critical assumptions without any facts!"

"I wanted to love her..."

"Have you ever entertained the idea of trying to find life on this planet?"

"It's not ice cream. It's a nonfat tofutti rice dreamsicle."

[sand-minion]

Had big dabihawks feels last night, I think it works with or without quirks but I like it with quirks.

Dabi, or Touya I suppose, being a prince that is sheltered due to his weak constitution. His body being weak to his quirk means that he cannot control his qurik, especially if he gets overwhelmed or emotional, and ends up hurting himself. This also means his body is usually in a weakend state so he gets sick easy. Becasue of this he ends up kinda like rapunzel, gets locked up for his own protection. He cannot go anywhere with crowds, anywhere he can get hurt or sick, or experience anything, or any emotion that he could possibly lead to him accidently hurting himself. Only allowed to go to specific parts of the castle or grounds that family and an inner circle of staff are allowed, to reduce contact with contagions and emotions that may set off his quirk.

So the prince takes to watching castle staff, villagers, guards/soldiers train, and festivals from afar for any entertainment. He especially likes watching from high windows, the higher the better really. The crown (Enji) approves of him being further away from everyone the better, and eventually just moves his room to the highest room in the tallest tower. Not allowing anyone to see the prince unless they are in perfect health. This also makes it harder for Touya to leave his chambers because he gets fatigued easy.

The crown tries really hard to protect him and keep his weakness a secret, can't show weakness to the enemy ya' know. The prince is even kept a secret from the majority of people in their own kingdom, the villagers kinda remember that the king had a first born son that may or may not have been sick, but not really, and they haven't heard about him in so long so they assume he died young, and the loss of the prince was too much for the royal family, so no one dares mention it. Some people claim that they have caught glimpses of a pale white haired boy in high windows of the castle. Villagers of course are superstitious and start telling tales of the ghost of the prince.

Keigo grew up pretty much how he did in canon, abusive criminal father, neglectful mother. He was alone most of the time and fending for himself, his father only paying attention to him when he needed Keigo's help to pull off a heist. But Keigo messed up a job and his father got caught by guards and arrested. A knight vouched for him since he was a little kid and Keigo was put into what was basically an orphanage. With the help of the knight that vouched for him, he decided that he would put his family history behind him, change his name and become a knight like his savior.

So Hawks trains with the other knights and Touya likes watching the knights train. He low-key wishing a hot guy would be his knight is shining armor and take him away from his lock up. Most of Dabi's daydreams are basically flying away from the castle and wanting to be free. So Dabi gets attached to Hawks because he can fly, which that makes him jelous, and Hawks is a hot knight, so he fulfills both fantasies.

Hawks had caught glimpses of the "ghost prince" in the high windows of the tower twice when he was young and a few times as an adult when he was tired after training. He kinda always thought he was hallucinating. Curiosity getting the better of him he flies up to the window at night when no one would notice, seeing the very alive prince asleep in bed, with bandages around parts of his body.

Hawks realizes there is someone who is probably as lonely as he was growing up. Starts leaving little gifts on the window ledge, shiny rocks, flowers, sticks, toys, basically whatever he found interesting at the time and wanted to share. Eventually, he leaves a note with one of his feathers. They become penpals, start to talk secretly, become friends, and eventually lovers. Hawks always sneaking in through his window.

Or (similar scenario, possibly a continuation)

Hawks is a knight and gets chosen to become a guard for the royal family after assassination attempts to overthrow the throne. I feel like Enji would find value in Hawks' skill but also him being weak to fire. That way if Hawks was a traitor they could take him down easily, but he can defend the family from outside attack. Hawks able to get close to Touya and occasionally needing to help the prince back to his chambers when he gets too fatigued.

Idk. The idea popped into my head, something like this has probably already been done, but it gave me feels.

[miss-tc-nova]

The End of Us - Bragi x Reader

I’m still having a moment because I’m still royally upset and needed to do something. So...have this. I may have a bit of denial left in me, but that’s another story. 

Premise: A breakup 

Spoilers for Dark Road

~~~~~

              Today is just like any other of these past few weeks. It’s quiet with only the occasional customer venturing into my shop to peruse books. The usual source of chaos and entertainment in my life and his classmates have been out on what feels like a never-ending mission. I know it’s important and all, but my boyfriend’s absence really hits hard.

              The jingling bell pulls my attention from my paperwork. Making my way around the desk to greet my customer, I feel a smile pull at my lips.

              “Bragi!”

              He looks exhausted, even more since the last time I saw him. Rings beneath his eyes have only gotten darker, his hair is mussed more than usual, and the usual smirk on his face isn’t quite so smarmy.

              “Hey darlin’.”

              Arms outstretched welcome me in his embrace, enveloping me in that sweet spice I could never get enough of. A wave of relief washes over me like a fresh hit of content. This feels so right.

              “Welcome back.”

              His hold is tighter than normal. It belies a sense of remorse that sends up red flags in my head. Softly, he replies, “Thanks.”

              Pulling back, I glance to the clock—it’s nearly closing. “It’s late. You must be hungry. You head upstairs and I’ll close up real quick, kay?”

              A kiss presses down on the top of my head in a melancholic manner. “Okay.”

              And that’s it—no teasing, no complaining, no smarmy comment. Something’s wrong and the way Bragi’s going about it has me worried. Still, I keep my word, shutting down shop for the night before making my way upstairs to start prepping dinner.

              Conversation feels forced, as if he has to keep dragging his mind back to the subject on hand. Whatever it is, I’m starting to feel anxious.

              “Hey.”

              My gaze falls back to him. There’s heartache etched into every feature of his face. He looks about ready to cry. That sight and the tone of his voice stings in my eyes. What comes next will be miserable for everyone.

              Immediately, the cookware in my hands find the counter so the conversation can take my full attention. His name ghosts passed my lips.

              “I…” A man so full of himself struggling with what to say rattles me. “I think we should end this.”

              “What?” It’s like my brain has collided with a brick wall. I was prepared for bad news, but I wasn’t prepared for this.

              His teeth gnash together and his voice wavers. “Us…I think we should end…us.”

              The first tear falls and a ragged breath ripples in my chest. “Why?”

              Suddenly, it’s too difficult to keep eye contact with me. “It would be best for both of us. With this whole keyblade thing, I just don’t think it’s gonna work out.”

              “I don’t understand.” It’s my turn to keep my words steady. “We’ve made it work until now.”

              “I know but…I get the feeling things are about to change. And the last thing I wanna do is hurt you any more than I have to.”

              “You don’t think we can make it through that?”

              A single word stabs at my heart. “No.”

              “Really? After all we’ve been through?”

              “Not this time.”

              A hand across my mouth stifles the sob.

              “Gods, if I knew it was gonna end like this…” Fingers shove through that wild hair. “You can hate me if you want; it might be easier if you do. But believe me when I say that I meant every word. You’re amazing and smart and beautiful…And I loved you.” He breath staggers. “And that’s why I have to do this.”

              I can’t do anything. My voice is broken, my legs won’t move, my self-control is falling to pieces. Through it all, he just looks like he wants to break—to take it all back and hold me.

              But Bragi sticks to his decision. He offers me a smile, damaged and somber though it is.

              “I’m sorry. Just…take care of yourself, okay?”

              Powerless to do anything, I watch Bragi walk out the door of my little home for the last time.

              The very last time.

~~~~~

              Standing before the granite stone, I feel empty inside.

              But now I understand everything.

              This is what he’d been talking about. This what he was trying to save me from. But I guess he underestimated just how strong my feelings were. In the short few days since I last saw Bragi, the pain never dulled and now it’s just as fresh as ever. Perhaps I hadn’t been able to come to terms with his departure; there’s no denying it now though.

              He’s gone.

              The love of my life will never come back.

              He’s dead.

              Tears patter to the ground, hidden amongst the rain drops that seem to bring the world down around me. Such terrible weather had driven all the other mourners away—the ceremony having long since ended. Only I remain, wrought with paralyzing grief.

              A weight drapes across my shoulders. Spice wafts around me as soft fur caresses my skin. I don’t even need to see the shade of blue to know whose jacket this is.

              My gaze slips to the passerby, finding only the back of a black-cloaked figure retreating. I don’t know who they are or how they came across Bragi’s coat, but I don’t have the spirit to leave the grave to chase them.

              “Wait.” The word claws its way from my throat.

              I didn’t expect them to actually pause, but now that they have, I don’t know what to say.

              “Thank you.”

              The figure simply shakes their head and continues walking.

              Trembling, frozen fingers pull tighter at the jacket around me. This is all I have left. After all these years, it’s over. I guess he was right.

              We would never make it through this.

[captains-simp]

can you do a fic where reader unintentionally breaks one of the rules by accident so she has to be punished but the punishment is being ignored by BOTH wanda AND nat and reader is uncomfortable with being ignored because it makes her feel invisible and like she's a ghost so like this is what happens, reader breaks a rule in front of wanda and nat but reader doesn't realize she broke a rule but wanda and nat punish reader without telling reader first, and they punish her by not acknowledging her presence and stuff then reader just breaks and starts crying and stuff, she's really upset until nat and wanda cave in and see what's wrong with reader because they didnt know that reader didnt realize she broke a rule and her punishment was being ignored by them

also nat is dom, wanda is switch (like wanda is sub to nat but dom to reader) and reader is sub also nat, wanda and reader are in a poly dom/sub relationship and dating

Oh my god is this ✨smut with a developed storyline✨?

Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanoff ~ 3rd Wheel

Warnings: debatable toxic traits, feelings of abandonment and unlove, fingering, praise, oral and hints of overstimulation

2.4k words

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You giggled as Sam made stupid sound effects every time he paused in telling his story. You were pretty sure the story wasn’t true but hearing him tell it was entertaining enough. He put his hand on your forearm as he laughed at his own comeback to some apparently ‘very real’ character in the story and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him. That was until your other arm was grabbed and pulled you to your feet. 

“It’s late, we should go.” Natasha said curtly. You nodded and said goodbye to Sam with a tight hug and followed after the Russian as Wanda joined her at her side. 

“How did your meeting go?” You teased the redheads. Officially, what you had just attended was a party. Unofficially, it was a chance for Natasha and Wanda to gather more intel for a future mission that they had been working on for months. Tony, to no one’s surprise, was more than happy to help by hosting the party and it was just like any other to everyone else. You had missed your girlfriend’s company at first, but had eventually started socializing with the others and the night had flown by. 

When you were met with silence you assumed you didn’t hear either of their responses over the music so you sped up your steps slightly to stick close by. Once you got to the car you knew they were in a bad mood. It was one thing when one of them was mad but both of them was a whole other storm. Not that it was always bad. Sometimes they would take that anger out on you in the bedroom and you had secretly been dying to be fucked like that for a while. 

You tried to make conversation a few times, telling the pair about Sam’s story and how it was probably about as real as fairies but they still didn’t respond. Of course, you had no idea that these things were just making them madder and that Wanda and Natasha were communicating silently most of the time, discussing the meeting as they ignored you. You gave up eventually and gazed out the window as you fiddled with the fabric of your dress. 

Once you were home things only seemed to get worse. “I made dinner before we left.” You said as you looked under the grill to find that the three served plates were still fine and put them on the counter. You had cooked before getting ready because you knew your girlfriends were busy and were going to be hungry when they got home. You glanced at the two women to see Natasha undoing her girlfriend’s zipper and placing a soft kiss between her shoulder blades. You smiled at the tender site. 

“Hey, where’s my kiss?” You teased as Natasha started towards the bedroom but shouldered right past you. You looked to Wanda but she didn’t spare you a glance either as she strolled through the apartment to your shared bedroom. You watched them go with a dry mouth and dragged yourself to the bathroom where you struggled to undo the zipper of your dress before finally succeeding after five minutes of struggling and sore arms. One of the redheads usually did it for you before you could even think to ask.  

You stepped into the shower and tried to focus on the feeling of the hot water running down your body, hoping it would distract you from the dull ache near your heart. It didn’t work. You wondered if you had done anything to annoy them at the party but could think of nothing. With a disgruntled sigh, you turned off the water and stepped out of the safety of the shower. You quickly dried off and tiptoed to your now-empty bedroom to change into your pajamas. 

When you went back into the kitchen you found only one of the plates was left. You glanced over at the living area to see Wanda and Natasha curled up together on the couch under a blanket as they watched TV and ate the food you made. They could have at least warmed mine up. You grumbled to yourself as you put it in the microwave and made yourself a drink. You trudged over to the couch but Wanda extended her legs to cover the free space just as you were about to sit down. You looked up at them both but their eyes were still glued to the TV. 

You sat down tentatively on the armchair closest to the couch and started taking small bites of your food. You weren’t paying attention to the screen at all. Instead, your eyes kept flickering to the two redheads curled up on the couch together. They looked so warm and tender laying together. You wished so desperately you could be with them, but instead you just felt like an outsider. That had always been a big insecurity for you. Wanda and Natasha were both Avengers and you were just a normal citizen. You often wondered if you ever felt like a burden, the weak part of their relationship. You could never understand their lives the way they could, you could only watch. Usually, you would voice your concerns and insecurities to them and they would assure you to no end that they loved you more than anything. However speaking had gotten you nowhere that night, so you kept it to yourself. 

You sat in the living room for hours. You wanted to go to bed so badly. You were utterly exhausted and your eyes were starting to hurt from the lights in the room you wanted to be shielded from. But you were determined not to go until the other two did. You wanted to be curled up between them both like you always were. You wanted to feel safe and secure and most of all loved. 

Finally, Natasha turned off the television and stretched out like a cat on the couch before standing and making her way to the bedroom, leading Wanda by the hand. You put your uneaten plate of food on the side to deal with the next day, too tired to even think about it at that moment. The pair instantly dropped down into bed and Natasha held Wanda tightly as she rested her head on the Russian’s chest. You gazed down at them longingly but forced yourself into bed besides them. You reached out your hand to tug weakly on their shirts, desperate for any kind of acknowledgement but received none. You withdrew your hand and held it up to your chest as you watched the pair. How long had they been craving time to themselves? 

You slowly got out from under the covers and left the room without feeling their usual fond gazes on your back. You lingered in the hallway before glancing back and saw Natasha tracing circles on Wanda’s back. You gulped back tears and made your way to the spare bedroom where you slept alone for the first time in months. 

*

You didn’t get up until lunch the next day. You didn’t feel like doing anything, especially not facing your girlfriend. You wanted to stay out of their way to give them the alone time they so clearly needed.

When you had finally dragged yourself out of bed and into the hallway you froze. Wanda’s moans could be heard clearly from your bedroom followed by sharp cries of Natasha’s name. You stood rooted to the spot as the pain in your chest grew worse. Since they had so keenly invited you into their relationship. The pair had never once done anything sexual without you. At first you had been flattered and insisted that you were okay if they wanted to do things by themselves every once in a while but eventually you had grown used to how things were. You had grown used to being included in everything. 

Numbly, you made yourself a hot chocolate in hopes of it raising your spirits. Not long after you had finished, your girlfriends came wandering into the kitchen with a new glow. 

“Do you want a drink?” You piped up, you could at least be helpful. Wanda grabbed something from the fridge as Natasha took out a glass from the cupboard and spun around to kiss her girlfriend on the lips with a soft giggle. Wanda smiled against her and hummed when Natasha’s tongue teased the Sokovian’s lower lip. 

“I love you.” Natasha hummed and Wanda smiled with a blush as she said the words back. 

“I- I love you too.” You added and took a desperate step towards them both, holding out your hands to them but they separated and started to stroll back into the living room. You watched on as tears sprung to your eyes. They didn’t say it back. They always said it back. “Please.” You whispered though you may have well have been talking to a wall. You whimpered quietly and weakly made your way to the guest room where you closed the door and fell down onto the bed, not being able to stop the tears streaming down your face. You curled up on yourself and hugged your duvet as close to your body as possible, needing something to cling onto like a lifeline. 

You didn’t hear the door open through your muffled weeping. You did feel the gentle pair of hands on your waist and the dip in the bed either side of you. Your head shot up and you looked between the pair in panic, fearing they were going to tell you to go elsewhere for the day or even forever. Wanda shushed you softly and held your dampened cheeks in her hands. 

“It’s okay, honey.” Wanda cooed and you whimpered as you tried to enjoy what you assumed was the last time she would hold you. “We’re not going anywhere and neither are you.” You peered at her cautiously and then Natasha who nodded gently. 

“We’re sorry, baby. Sam was getting a little too handsy last night and you didn’t seem to notice.” Natasha explained carefully. You remembered the brief moment he had touched your waist and frowned at the memory. 

“And you know letting people touch what isn’t theirs is breaking a rule.” You nodded slowly as Wanda added on.

“So your punishment was being ignored by us so you could learn but we took it too far.” Natasha admitted.

“And we never told you what was happening. We’re so sorry we made you feel this way, sweetie. We love you so much.” Wanda said as she kissed you softly on the lips as Natasha lay down behind you and wrapped her arms protectively around your waist. 

“So so much.” She added. 

“Promise?” You asked and Wanda lay down to join you and wipe your tears away. 

“Always.” 

“Let us show you.” Natasha whispered against your neck and you nodded as she rolled you gently onto your back and began planting soft kisses along your neck, occasionally lingering on patches of skin to suck dark bruises into them. Wanda titled your head towards you and kissed you slowly, cherishing the taste of you and wanting to reclaim all that she could. 

Natasha’s hands started to wander down your stomach and landed at the hem of your sweatpants that she easily surpassed along with your panties. You gasped when you felt her fingers run along your folds and up to your clit. You bucked your hips and moaned against Wanda when she applied some pressure, all while the Sokovian started to retrace her girlfriend’s steps by running her hands across your breasts. Her thumbs brushed against your hardened nipples and she hummed against you. 

Natasha finally pushed two fingers past your folds and relished in the slick that coated them instantly. She curled them gently inside you and withdrew to start about making a consistent pace that had you melting beneath them both. 

“That’s it, sweetie.” Wanda assured in the most loving tone you had ever heard from her. 

“Taking me so well. Our best girl.” Natasha hummed and withdrew her fingers. You whined softly but shushed when Natasha brought her fingers up to Wanda’s lips and slid them inside. The Sokovian hummed in delight around Natasha’s fingers, eagerly licking her slender digits before retreating to start down your body, determined to gain an unfiltered taste. 

Wanda pulled your sweatpants and panties off completely and kissed up your thighs softly, taking her time in treasuring you just as Natasha had done with your neck. She gleamed at the sight before her and didn’t hesitate to lick a long strip between your folds. You mewled in Natasha’s hold as Wanda moaned against you. “Always so sweet.” She dipped her tongue inside of you and you clenched around her muscle with a gasp.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good for us.” Natasha praised softly as she started to rub your clit with her free hand. You bucked against both their movements, feeling beautifully overwhelmed by it all. Wanda’s tongue flicked inside you and you moaned loudly into the air, tempting Natasha to quieten you with a kiss while your other girlfriend continued to work between your legs that were beginning to shake. 

“Please.” You whined as you felt your high approaching. The pair smiled at one another as they continued to please you. 

“I can feel you clenching my tongue.” Wanda mused.

“Go ahead and cum for us, baby.” You did as you were told without a second’s delay. You moaned loudly into the air as you shuddered against the bed and came undone on Wanda’s tongue. The pair helped you ride out your high and into another orgasm relentlessly. They didn’t let up, making you cum again and once more, leaving you feeling utterly exhausted and overworked. 

“That’s it, darling. You did so good for us.” Wanda praised as she fell down besides you and they both held you protectively. 

“We love you.” Natasha muttered softly and you smiled.

“I love you both too.” You hummed, enjoying the warmth of your girlfriends’ comfort.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Taglist: @freewaysigns-underpasses @caroldanvers2 @marvelwomenslut @marvelwomen-simp @likefirenrain @grxvitye @emilyprentisslittlewhore @lostandsearching @firenrain13 @horcruxhunter90 @mrs-avenger3000 @nightingalxx @sky-kim-00 @yeeterthekeeper @didujustcallmedumb @ymzki-haruki @uno-x-uno

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[peachpanlong]

‘Serenity’

Kento Nanami x reader

word count: 1.1k

(do not repost my work unless you have permission to do so, reblogs are fine)

Nanami’s heart always seemed to skip a beat when your name was brought up. No matter the time or place, your cherished memories would cause blood to rush to his cheeks which his friends found oh-so entertaining.

“Why don’t you just take her out on a date? You both like each other.” Gojo blurted out before sipping at his hot chocolate. “Do you actually think she would accept the offer? I’m not exactly certain she returns my feelings.” The two other boys groaned at his words. Geto finally spoke up. “To think you’re the smartest out of all of us.” Geto extended his hands, palms up. “Your phone?” Nanami reluctantly accepted his request, taking the device out of his pocket and handing it to him.

Geto’s fingers began frantically typing away giving nanami a general idea of what he was doing. Gojo leaned onto his friend’s shoulders before letting out a soft chuckle.

“The x’s at the end totally sound like him, too!” Gojo snickered, glancing at nanami’s phone. “The x’s?!” Nanami shot his hand out to steal back his phone, in the process accidentally pressing the ‘send’ button. Geto and Gojo could almost hear the clockwork going off in Nanami’s head as he read the message supposedly from him.

‘Good evening, my dear. I was wondering if you happened to be free this Saturday? I would love to take you out on a date. Hope you are doing well xx.’

He frantically drafted out sentences on the messenger app only to delete it the next second, knowing it will put him in an even worse situation. With an irritated sigh he placed his phone on the table face-down. The two other boys looked at each other awkwardly, not exactly knowing what to do in this situation.

A few uncomfortable seconds passed as Nanami bore holes into the table, not wanting to look at the two men who put him in this cumbersome situation. A soft noise vibrated from the phone to the table, surprising the group. Hesitantly, Nanami picked his phone up and read the message from you outloud.

“Hello Nanami! I have to admit, I was quite surprised to get this message from you. I would love to go on a date with you this Saturday! What time were you thinking?” His entire frame of mind changed the second he processed that you had actually said yes to him.

“Damnnn…” Gojo leaned back against his seat, covering his mouth with the mug of hot chocolate. “She totally wants his cock.” Geto held back a laugh only to scold him a second later. If it wasn’t for the fact Nanami was fixated over your message, he would’ve up and left his friends for being so crude.

By the end of the night, Nanami and you had organised for him to pick you up at 6pm. Nanami convinced you to trust him enough to let the location stay a surprise. With the assurance of his friends, he was positive that you would like the place he had chosen for your date.

Time flew so slowly as he not-so patiently waited for Saturday. If it hadn’t been for his intense sorcery work, he would have bored himself to death.

Your body sat itself on the couch to keep an eye out for the doorbell. Feet bouncing, your mind started to ponder. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t gone on a date before. Hell, you’ve gone on plenty. Why did this day feel so different from the others? The two-tone sound vibrated through the air.

“One sec!” It felt as if a lump had developed in your throat. Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you paced towards the door to greet him. “Hello Nanami!” You greeted with a smile. Exchanging a smile, he replied. “Good afternoon, y/n.” He extended his arm for you to place your hand in his. When your hand met his, he placed a kiss on your knuckles.

“So, Nanami, where are you planning to take us?” His eyes continued to scan the road as he responded. “It’s a surprise. You’ll find out soon enough.”

Despite the cool evening’s weather, his car was warm from the built-in heaters. Not hot in a humid way, rather in a more cosy sense. It felt almost domestic the way he took notice of any discomforts you may have faced.

Before you knew it, the car had been parked in a makeshift car park made of dirt and spray paint. He gave a soft smile when he opened your door. Bold, flashing lights beamed in your eyes as tall men wearing even taller top hats were shouting to an audience.

“My love, I will get us some tickets and food.”

Time seemed to fly by faster than the roller coasters you rode. Every so often his eyes would wander towards your face, giving him a view of your side profile. In those moments he felt peaceful despite the harsh, gleaming lights emitting from glow sticks and glow-in-the-dark hula-hoops. Occasionally you both would share a glance, quickly surrendering to the less confronting view of grass.

His hands comforted your’s the entire night. Even throughout dinner he managed to maintain physical touch.

When your night came to a close you felt almost disheartened to leave him. The entire date consisted of him ensuring you were entertained and content. So when he stood before you, a smile adorning his face, you couldn’t help but speak up.

“Will you be my first kiss?”

A glimpse of surprise mixed with the grey in his eyes. “You trust me to that extent?” You briefly nod, not able to meet his eyes. Once he had assured himself that he heard you correctly, he moved his large hands to meet the apples of your cheeks. You moulded into his soft caress as his soft gaze connected with yours. Hot flames progressed from the borders of your ears to the tips of your toes. Your tongue glided across your lips to soothe the harsh temperature radiating from them. His head bent down to accommodate the height difference you both shared. When his lips ghosted over yours he stopped, giving you the final decision. You removed the distance, letting your lips glide softly against his. The scent of his expensive cologne mixed with the soft taste of cotton candy was intoxicating. The wintry breeze contrasted the warm, sensual kiss the both of you shared. Pulling away you couldn’t help but feel star struck. An unmoving smile plastered his face as his thumb drew patterns against your cheek.

“Thank you for today.” You smiled at his words. “I had fun, thank you for taking me.” His hand lowers down to your hand, in which he holds it to his lips to place a chaste kiss against your knuckles.

“Goodnight, my love.”

[dapandapod]

Place your smile in mine

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this little series I made almost a year ago. Jaskier asking for permission to touch Geralt just... melts me. I don’t know. And I wanted to give Geralt the same opportunity.

Thank you darling @kuripon for being my beta, as always, you are wonderful and I love you! <3

Is a part of a series but can be read as a stand alone. Please enjoy <3

part one: Taste of apples   part two:  Touch of home 

On Ao3

Hushed voices whisper around them in anticipation. The sun hangs high in the sky, a warm breeze gently playing with the ribbons hanging around the marketplace. It is a special day. Today the village comes together to celebrate the birth of a nearby lord's firstborn. Jugglers, bards, storytellers and acrobats mingle around the crowd, waiting for their turn on the stage. Jaskier is about to go up, and Geralt stands by his side, feeling rather useless.

“Seriously Geralt, go stand in the crowd. It’s gonna be fine,” Jaskier tells him with a half smirk. Geralt refuses to meet his eyes and shoves at the gravel on the ground with the tip of his shoe.

“They are not going to throw things at us, I promise.”

“That’s not it,” Geralt mutters, but he doesn’t want to explain himself further. The feeling of unease doesn’t let him go, and he finds it hard to leave Jaskier's side.

Jaskier must read it on him, so he steadies his lute with his left hand and reaches out to Geralt with the other. His hand is warm and soft against Geralt's, his fingers slipping over his palm and then lacing their fingers together. Geralt's heart lightens and tightens at the same time. It is a strange feeling. He gets a little squeeze before Jaskier lets him go.

“Go stand at the back of the crowd. Nobody will care anymore. Blaviken has come a long way since you were here last.”

So Jaskier noticed. It really seems to have changed, but Geralt still feels like he sticks out like a sore thumb. And he is a bit worried that he might drag Jaskier into it, just by having him close. He sighs, but does as he is told as Jaskier is called upon stage.

Usually towns aren’t that bad. At least not for short periods of time. Yes, he is eye-catching with his yellow eyes and tall form, but it is easy to get lost in the crowd. In a town, you can be invisible, even if it’s just for a little while. He had never expected this to be true in Blaviken.

Geralt is a good head taller than most of the men present, but they pay him very little mind. Their eyes, like his, are locked on the stage. Jaskier dominates the stage. He doesn’t need accompaniment, doesn’t need any backup. Up there, he shines. Geralt has seen him perform many times, and he never tires of it. The bard is already so full of himself, so Geralt only voices it on special occasions, but still. The truth is, Jaskier fills every space he enters brightly and effortlessly. His every move and word evokes feelings, both good and bad depending on who you ask. And Geralt can’t get enough.

Having had a taste of it, a taste of what Jaskier promises in his songs, it does something to him. Something he can’t put his finger on, but wants more of. That single squeeze of his hands pushed the unease away, if just for a little while.

Geralt watches Jaskier move about, winking as his long fingers pluck at the strings and shape the sound. He realizes he is fixated on Jaskier's hands, and that he can feel the ghost of it against his palm. He flexes his hand to shake it off, and when he looks up again, Jaskier is watching him. Geralt's breath catches in his throat, and he is suddenly glad to have some space between them.

When the last song is sung, Jaskier bows deeply and accepts the generous applause and cheers from the crowd. Geralt gets lost in thought, lost in the ghost sensations of Jaskier's hand around his, and next thing he knows, Jaskier is standing right in front of him.

“There,” he says, smiling brightly. He is just a little sweaty, his hair sticking to his forehead. “Shall we take a stroll? I am pretty sure I saw plum pastries somewhere, and I haven’t had them since I was a child.”

Geralt files that information away, and nods. They visit two stalls right next to the town square where the stage is set up, the crowd not letting up in the least. Geralt can’t stop thinking about Jaskier's hand in his.

Maybe he should just ask. Jaskier asks for things all the time. He could.

“Jaskier?”

Jaskier stands bent over a table lined with rings and trinkets, scratching his chin with one hand and the other perched on his hip.

“Mhm?”

The stall owner gives Geralt a long look, and maybe now is not the time. Geralt turns away before any comments can be made, deciding that maybe this was a bad idea after all.

“What’s wrong, my dear friend?” Jaskier asks, standing up and walking over to bump his shoulder against Geralt's. Somehow, Geralt is grateful that Jaskier isn’t using his name.

Unease pushes its way into his chest again and makes him tense up. He just wants it to go away.

“Can I ask you something?” Geralt manages, and Jaskier smirks.

“Isn't it usually me asking that?” he says, and oh. Yeah, maybe he does. “And always.”

Geralt takes a deep breath, steeling himself.

“May I hold your hand?” he asks.

Jaskier doesn’t ask any questions, doesn’t tease. He just slips his hand into Geralt's. He looks up at Geralt, his eyes seeing so much more than Geralt thought he showed. His arm is a warm, comforting presence against his side, his fingers a little damp and hot, but it fights that unease, it pushes it away and replaces it with something else.

They start walking again, slowly. Jaskier sticks close, and Geralt fights the urge to lace their fingers together. But why should he fight it? He readjusts the grip, Jaskier looking up at him when he lets go for a moment. When his fingers intertwine with Jaskier's, he feels like his heart is beating out of his chest. Jaskier just smiles and squeezes his hand tighter. They find the stall with the plum pastries, and Jaskier's laugh when Geralt gets a bit of cream on his nose is the dorkiest, most wonderful sound Geralt has ever heard.

Maybe he can ask... for more…

They end up at the outskirts of town, where the decorations are fewer and the shadows longer from the setting sun.

“Can I ask you something else?” Geralt ventures, coming to a halt between two houses. The street is empty and quiet, most people still in the town center, enjoying the entertainment.

“Yes.” Jaskier smiles, still standing just as close as when they were in the crowd.

“May I kiss you?”

Jaskier's eyes widen, and he sucks in a breath as color climbs his cheeks.

“Yes, please,” he breathes, leaning forward.

Geralt tightens his grip around their fingers and tucks his other hand under Jaskier's chin, tilting it upwards. The kiss is tender, much like the first time, and it doesn’t take much for them to fall deeper. Geralt's hand cradles Jaskier's cheeks, and Jaskier brings up his own hand to hold it. There are words at the tip of his tongue.

They haven’t talked about it, but the feeling that replaces the unease is big. Important. Heavy. When they part, Geralt wonders if Jaskier can read it in his eyes, like he read almost everything else today.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and Jaskier smiles again.

“Anytime,” he whispers back, pulling at Geralt's hand so that it rests over Jaskier's heart. “Anytime.”

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 21, part one

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Reunions

All together in The Unclean Realm, The Yunmeng trio find a spot inside where they can sit down and have a proper Yanli-Wuxian reunion, while Jiang Cheng sits across the table watching them. 

For years Jiang Cheng has been rejecting Wei Wuxian's free and easy affection; now Yanli might be the only person Wei Wuxian offers to hug until Wen Yuan comes into his life.

Jiang Cheng is really going through it. He'll do nearly anything for Yanli--except, uh, stay in the goddamn inn with her when she's sick and the Wens are hunting them--and what makes her happiest is Wei Wuxian. He's brought them together, and so he's happy, even though he's excluded from their dynamic. This absolutely fucking kills me.

Here Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian are sweetly pledging to always keep the trio together and put each other first. Neither of them will keep this promise. 

Wei Wuxian will leave first, to take the Wens to the Burial Mounds. Jiang Yanli will leave second, staying in Lanling at Jin Zixuan's request instead of accompanying Jiang Cheng to retrieve Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng will be the last to let go.

(more after the cut)

Nie Huaisang comes literally running in, filled with joy at Wei Wuxian's return. When he goes to pat his shoulder Wei Wuxian flinches away.

I feel like something important is happening in this rapid sequence of glances and expressions between Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang. NHS is startled, and WWX realizes he's shown something about himself that he didn't want to show. He glances at Jiang Cheng and back at NHS before laughing and covering his slip with a squeeze of NHS’s hand.

NHS switches from shocked to cheerful just as quickly, helping with the coverup. It’s like they have a quick mutual agreement, rooted in their history of shared shenanigans, to not point out that something is wrong.

Meanwhile, Lan Wangji is wandering around the grounds, having feelings. At this point it's presumably been at least a couple of weeks since their breakup fight. 

He sees Wei Wuxian sitting contemplating his flute, and as he sees him he goes from sort of neutrally apprehensive to full on angry judging, complete with sword clenching. 

Part of this may be that his feelings are hurt over their fight, but the larger issue is his distress over Wei Wuxian's apparent heretical cultivation.  That, at any rate, is what's on his mind when he's selecting music, later in the episode, and when he's selecting flashbacks. 

Party Time

Later, the Nies host an excruciating party to celebrate Wei Wuxian's slaughter of Wen Chao return. Jiang Yanli is sharing a table with Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng is sharing a table with his crippling social anxiety. 

Everyone starts grilling Wei Wuxian about his sword, because that's suddenly all anybody cares about even though Jiang Yanli, Nie Huaisang, Meng Yao, and probably plenty of other people don't carry swords most of the time.

Wei Wuxian says "after the Wens caught me, Wen Zhuliu crushed my core, so I can't use my sword any more, too bad so sad, can we change the subject?" And everyone is very understanding and admires his resiliency. HA HA HA HA HA. Of course he doesn't opt for that simple lie, but instead mopes audibly without saying anything.

Nie Huasiang tries to change the subject by asking how he killed Wen Chao. Apparently "I had a sexy ghost mostly flay him" isn't good party chat, though, so neither Wei Wuxian nor Jiang Cheng opts to tell the story. 

Everyone lapses into awkward silence, all the more noticeable because there are no dancers, musicians, or entertainers of any kind at this event. OP has gone to audit-kickoff meetings that were more fun than cultivator banquets.

Moment of Clarity

While the awkwardness builds, we hear the sounds of the Song of Clarity. Lan Wangji is skipping the party, which is part of why Wei Wuxian is so mopey. But instead of sitting and stewing in his anger, Lan Wangji has shifted gears, and is starting to work on his "save Wei Wuxian's soul" plan.

This isn't the God-botherer version of soul saving, however. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian disagree about correct practice, but they both are still practitioners within the same spiritual system, and the majority of their beliefs are closely aligned.

Lan Wangji has powerful magic at his disposal, and now he's taking a step back from his plan of forcing persuading Wei Wuxian to give up heterodoxy, and instead he's preparing to use his magic to offset the consequences of Wei Wuxian's choice.

He still isn't ready to accept that choice, but he's working on it. This is a big moment for Lan Wangji's relationship with Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji is a deeply, deeply uncompromising person, as well as being super bossy, and he’s taking his first steps toward supporting Wei Wuxian’s free agency. 

Wei Wuxian leaves the party in the middle of Yao's toast, saying "I have to see you and your lover all over my tumblr dashboard but I am NOT going to listen to you talk!" He takes his wine to go roam around near Lan Wangji's quarters to pine and feel conflicted.  Lan Wangji has thoughtfully set up a projection scrim to catch his shadow and make the pining easier.

Jiang Cheng comes looking for Wei Wuxian, partly to reprimand him for rudeness and partly to see what the hell is wrong with him. Jiang Cheng is trying very hard to be pleasant. He's bad at it, but he's trying.

Wei Wuxian is trying to be unpleasant and he's pretty good at it. He won't say why he isn't using his sword. He’s obviously super fucking depressed about it, calling his former self childish for liking to spar, and only smiling once during the whole exchange.

He finally tells Jiang Cheng that he will always want to do the opposite of what Jiang Cheng tells him.  Jiang Cheng lets this go with an eyeroll.

(Point Break Quote Alert)

But actually this is a sign of trouble, right here in River City, with a capital T and that rhymes with P and that stands for abandoning the Jiang Clan. Wei Wuxian has just told Jiang Cheng he has no intention of obeying him; not just about the sword, but in general. That's no way for a disciple to talk. 

OP has nothing to say about this gif. OP watches gif over and over and over and over

Wei Wuxian ends the conversation by tapping Jiang Cheng's chest with his flute and then walking away. The (still nameless) flute has no problem with this - does it, like Subian, recognize Jiang Cheng as an extension of Wei Wuxian?

The next day, Wei Wuxian is chilling in his room, looking ungodly sexy in his bold slashed robe, holy frack. I mean, he is sex-on-toast at all times, but the cut of his post-burial-mounds combo is particularly heart-stopping when he decides to stick a knee or two out. 

He's meditating and flashing back to being in the burial mounds, where he was also meditating. I admire his ability to fractally meditate about meditating. 

Chenqing

He didn't put a sock on the doorknob, so Jiang Yanli comes in and startles him. He brandishes his flute at her before calming down. The flute definitely does not see her as an extension of Wei Wuxian, because when she touches it, it smokes and then knocks her out of the frame so fast it's comical.

Did they put her in a jerk vest for that shot?

Wei Wuxian hides the flute from her, freaked out by its behavior. She, however, is unfazed, and gives him the first & only affirmation he's gotten about his new cultivation path, and says the flute is "like Mother's Zidian."  She kind of walks him through the whole "first class spiritual tool" concept, beaming with approval and telling him he must name the flute.  

Jiang Yanli is hardcore Jiang Clan, seriously. Freedom and impossibility. You survived 3 months of mystery trauma and now you're all fucked up? We'll roll with it. You have a demon flute now? Rock on. You're going to use necromancy to beat the other clans in a group hunt? Gold star for you.

He names the flute Chenqing, which @hunxi-guilai​ translates and explains in depth over here.

Bichen

Lan Wangji has finished practicing the Song of Clarity, and regardless of whether it's had an effect on Wei Wuxian, he himself seems much calmer. 

As Wei Wuxian contemplates Chenqing, Lan Wangji contemplates Bichen and remembers Wei Wuxian's assertions about resentful energy way back in Gusu summer school. 

This time when he grips his sword, it's loosely, as if he's made some progress with his anger.

Soup

Jiang Yanli sits Wei Wuxian down for some soup, and talks to him about what's going on with him, saying he's changed. He insists he's fine and works very hard to be convincing.

She's not convinced but says she won't press him, and then abruptly shifts tone and works very hard to act like everything is fine. She leaves, taking a lot of soup with her, and Wei Wuxian remarks that it's unfair she is giving so much to Jiang Cheng. But of course, some of it is secretly for Jin Zixuan.

Everything isn't fine, as Wei Wuxian scream-meditates with resentful energy just rolling off of him. He's got some of the dark energy stored in the Yin sword in his bag of holding, but I get the impression that a lot of it is just stored in his body.

Club Ruohan

At some point in the episode we stop in to check on Wen Ruohan. He and his wind machine are mad that Wen Chao is dead. 

Meanwhile, his interpretive dances with the Yin iron now turn his puppets into...Klingons? Sure, why not. 

Literal Stand-Up Meeting 

Jiang Cheng needs Wei Wuxian at games night a meeting and comes running to Jiang Yanli to find him. He is freaking out and she tells him to chill. 

No matter what fuckery is going on in the world, Jiang Yanli is going to find herself a nice little outdoor table and she is going to sit her ass down and have some tea and civilized lady activity. Queen.

This shot of the meeting is composed so nicely. The blocking (placement of actors) in this scene encapsulates the familial dynamics, and I’ll talk about that as soon as I finish admiring Jiang Cheng’s proportions. 

Here we have four clans represented by four family pairs around the game war table. The Jin cousins, despite their differing personalities, are side by side, matchy-matchy, in lockstep. Jin Zixuan lets Jin Zixun do the talking for him, so maintains his own rep as a reasonable guy.  

The Nie brothers are even closer together, also in matching greys, Nie Huaisang giving all of his attention to his brother/clan leader. You can see his careful watching of his brother's temper...not fearful for himself, but fearful for Mingjue.

The Lan brothers have a growing distance between them; they are in different colors (which is pretty usual for them), and Lan Wangji is standing well away from his brother and the rest of the group. Partly this is his personality, but it's also symbolic of his growing distance from his brother and other proper cultivators. He's carrying WWX-related secrets, and he's wrestling with what he's learned.  

While Nie Huaisang is looking at Mingjue, Lan Xichen is turning around to see what's up with his own volatile sibling.

Lastly you have Jiang Cheng, alone in the room, with his shidi nowhere to be found, and seriously feeling the heat because of his isolation. 

He's alone in his purple, but the color value (lightness/darkness) of his robes exactly matches Xichen's. 

And Xichen, bless him, makes a point of speaking to him respectfully as a fellow clan leader, gives him a path out of the "where is your brother" conversation, and is just generally his kind and helpful self with Jiang Cheng.

Next: Awkwardness Increases!

[kalinawtokilig]

A Silly S/O that shares one braincell with his best friend

Who doesn’t love a silly, goofy, S/O?

Pair(s) : Akaashi x Reader, Kenma x Reader, Suna x Reader, Kunimi x Reader

(((Ahhhhhahhh bruhhh I literally put the dying inside parted hair dark beauties here,,, ✨ blessing it ✨)))

{This is my first time doing headcanons,, i apologize as it is very early morning and i dont sleep so i may be passing out as soon as i post this ahahahhahahaahha))))) 

{Akaashi Keiji x Reader} 

(Ohh shi- Aight, we startin off with setters huh)

------

To be fair, Akaashi met you through Bokuto, you chaotic duo, whilst Bokuto being a particularly sunny, bubbly guy, its fair he’s friends with someone as goofy as him 

It’s like,,, one of those kinds of friendships you have with Akaashi, whenever you guys are seated next to each other for a group project or simply having a one-on-one convo, you seem to have enraptured him with how funny you are

for example, you being a silly person, you seem to have gotten into a argument with Bokuto, seeing as there was only one braincell, thus being you as the only braincell between the two of you, a juicebox and two of you being dumbasses,,, You proposed to Bokuto to poke a straw through the box so you both can drink from either ends of the straw,,,while bokuto,,, proposed of cutting,,,the juice box,, in half,,, to share,,, 

(No cap, i saw my brother and friend argue and do this,,, it was a waste of a caprisun and i had to drink wine to forget that this is what I put up wit,,,yet i recorded it

Akaashi may have facepalmed when you told him this, but the genuine look of truth and kindness made him soft for you when you continued about your small mishaps 

This mans smiles faintly, so when you talk about a joke or something stupidly funny, he can’t help but have a full on smile, cause you speak so passionately about your small and oblivious situations you keep getting yourself into and the endearing solutions you have

when you get together, it’s no boring life at all

Akaashi is always there to rope you in when things get too hectic, especially around Bokuto, but when its you, he can’t help but grin at how bright you can be when you think of funny ideas for today and the next day

Kozume Kenma x Reader

(OHH SHI- another pretty setter, lucky day :3c)

---------

Ohhh boi this is gonna be so many jokes

You and Kuroo share a braincell, that being annoying Kenma ((That’s what Kuroo thinks at least)) 

Kenma never can get a break,, you being the manager of Nekoma and being good friends with Kuroo, even Yaku is getting a headache

Kenma looks forward to you talking to him ((He finds you genuinely interesting when you pointed out a creative way - more like a newfounded loophole - to one of his video games,, he got kinda hooked on you when you kept telling him possible ways to beat the boss using a weak weapon,, he thought you were buggin,,, nah,, he won and trusted your somewhat foolish advice,,, beating up a miniboss with a stick that had been leveled up from being used worked,,, he doesn’t know what goes on your mind,,, but he wants to know more)))

You tell Kenma funny jokes about the newest character in the game he’s playing, not to mention your own headcanons about them

Kuroo joins in, much to Kenma’s dismay, but with a small smile he likes seeing you enjoy yourself as you talk odd with his best friend

You call him alot of nicknames due to his hair and attitude 

“Aye,, wassup puddinghead?” - “Lil’Calico, how’s it hangin?” - “Tiramisu cup, ya lookin sweet today!” 

Its,, really cute how you think of him, make up nicknames and have this real attitude when you see him

Kuroo kinda ruins them tho, adding an annoying comment about the nickname and Kenma S C O W L S 

OHHHH When you ask him on a date, you use the most creative one liner 

“Instead of me being support how bout I join your party and be your player 2? We’ll use Kuroo as a support, Rooster-Attack!” 

*cue adorable pose*

-Kuroo in the back : “ROOSTER, WHO YOU CALLING ROOSTER YOU-”

You start attacking him with chemistry insult and he dodges it with another chem attack

Kenma has never been so flustered nor entertained before

Overall, Kenma believes that you being a cute, silly, s/o is literally the best thing that has ever happened to him,, (Besides meeting Shoyo of course,, but then again,, that’s always the best thing that can happen to anyone, have you seen that boy’s harem?) 

Suna Rintaro x Reader

((ooooo,,,, man,,,, this mans,,,, he got me,,,, everywhere,,, lmao i pimp him and he isn’t the only one))) 

-------

Suna ,, I pimp you 

OH GAWD, the MIYA TWINS

It’s like,,, an extra Miya,,, but more like,, cousin instead of sibling Miya but still family Miya,, ya get me????

You transferred in during your second year and man,,, having Atsumu and Osamu pushing you to be their manager,,, its been trouble ever since,, even Aran cannot handle the amount of boondoggle that happens in practice

Okay, listen, you, YOU, are the type to be silly, yes, but in a way that makes Atsumu and Osamu start arguing over something silly you said and the twins start fighting because they started to drift somewhere else. 

Basically you drench the kerosene, light it, and leave it for the twins to fan the flames,, they are rolling and causing chaos

You and Suna always record it to blackmail them

Not to mention, you being the wacky person you are, you rope the twins into your shit,,, 

Since your last name is NOT Miya, but your other parent’s name, many of Atsumu’s fangirls don’t,, appreciate you 

You can’t help but dangle funny insults towards your ego-filled cousin, having the fangirls wreak havoc and chase you around

you would and can stop,, buts its too funny seeing them get mad over silly things like how you perceive Atsumu to be an ugly sleeper that farts and wakes up from it (( You lived it as kids when you and your family slept over the twins’ place, Osamu and you have many videos of it)) 

Suna is usually the one hiding you away from the rabid fans who seem to want to defend Atsumu’s perfect image honor. 

This man cannot fathom the amount of trouble you get into sometimes, esp. with the twins

When you two get together, you think of the most diabolical and hysterical plans, Suna there to record and by your side when things start to get out of hand

Suna doesn’t express many emotions, but when you finally get him to show a reaction cause of something you did, whether it be a joke or starting a Miya Twins brawl, he can’t help but have the small ghost of a smile when you’re not looking

Kunimi Akira x Reader

(((ooo another parted hair dark male,, Me likeyy))) 

-----------

You and Kindaichi are like,, a mesh of puns and anger 

Puns on your side and Anger on Kindaichi’s side

For Kunimi, he finds it entertaining, the dynamic you two have 

Though Kunimi doesn’t express emotions as much, ((like the other parted hair babes)) he likes to fan the flames to see his best friend angry 

Kindaichi doesn’t get ‘Mad’, he knows its for jokes,,, it’s just,,, your way of thinking can be so mind blowing that he doesn’t know how some of the things go your way it makes him want to know but he gets annoyed when you tease him about it 

Kunimi likes to see the way your accomplished smile shines, despite having silly pranks or stupid puns, you seem to get his type of humor 

you like to play jokes on Kindaichi, usually poking him when he’s not looking that he jumps out of his skin and he pokes you back and you poke him back, then it becomes a poking war and Kunimi steps to side to see you laugh and when you accidentally poke Kindachi too hard in the gut, he topples over and gives you the finger 

You say something among the lines, “Me? If anything, I won and you’re just salty, like that blond beanpole from Karasuno. Right, Kunimi?” 

Kunimi, I feel, isn’t the type to full out laugh, but snort or hide his laugh with a scoff behind his hand,, you know,,, like all these other men seem to do,, i get that vibe from them 

Dating, nothing changes but the teasing from your side is not overwhelming, yet its not underwhelming,, its actually a good wavelength to match with his own retorts 

Kunimi doesn’t hate that you rope him into your schemes, no matter how ridiculous, if it means he gets to see you smile and look at him with those crinkled eyes that seem to glow with joy,,, he doesn’t mind the effort (But he won’t tell you that) 

----------

((Ngl, this is kinda hard,, yet I tried lmao) 

[dropsofletters]

cursed your name [lty]

—summary: lee taeyong has wanted one thing for the past two years: to be the worldwide light featherweight champion. his up-and-rising career is on its highest point to this day, one step away from being one of the youngest winners of the title, watched and studied by the world with intent. little does he know that success is a lonesome road, filled with envy and betrayal.

owning a casino is already difficult on its own. fights, bets, cards, money, the stench of alcohol following around every step…she knows this is not how her life should’ve turned out to be, but after being passed down her best friend’s casino, the jungle, she does everything in her power to keep the business alive. the dream, even.

the dream of a casino dies down when taeyong makes his way through those doors one night, but another dream starts…and she has to wake up.

—title: cursed your name —pairing: lee taeyong x reader —genre: boxer!au ; casino owner!au ; crime!au ; strangers to one-night stands to enemies to friends to lovers!au (yes, that’s a thing) —type: angst ; fluff ; suggestive ; drama ; humor ; slowburn —word count: 28,354 —warnings: mentions of death, guns and blood. acts of betrayal on page. none of these actions are morally correct and are only plastered on paper for the sake of storytelling. characters are fabricated in every way. there’s a mystery, kind of, so you can solve that as well.

Lighter off. Lighter on. It says enough about a person when the only source of light of their night comes from igniting a cigarette.

The long stick rests between her fingers, pushing one leg over the other when leaning back against the muddy backdoor of the casino. Her casino. It’s hard to believe that the twinkling lights, bustling people, workers dancing on tables all belong to her now. So, they say, people have to lose it all in order to have one glimpse of success.

Even themselves.

She pushes the black beanie on her head a little bit further down her forehead, puffing out the smoke from her lips before tapping the cigarette a few times. The ashes fall on the floor beside her, near her boots, but she can’t bring herself to care. For once, she wants peace. And maybe, silence comes with the faint background music behind her, and the cars passing by in an alleyway that could probably get her killed if she stood there for too long.

The fact that the casino is in a rich neighborhood doesn’t mean it’s a good one.

Her fingers almost become numb thanks to the coldness, but for once, she can breathe. Perched, tranquil, mixing the vapor of her mouth and the smoke of her cigarette in just one breath. Turns out that casinos are filled with cocky, overconfident people who lose it all and win it all over again. If people ask for the manager in normal establishments, they ask for her when they decide to bet everything and their wife in just one game.

People decide how to destroy their lives, and she’s just the one giving a ceiling to the conclusion of their proper economical lifestyle.

The backdoor swings open, hitting her directly on the back. She can’t even begin to form a sentence about privacy when she’s met by the sight of her right hand. The only man she has ever trusted, one of her closest friends, Tori. If there is loyalty in people, it’s shown in him. Mussy brown hair parted in the middle, a set of somewhat interesting features welcoming her. Wide forehead, somewhat downturned and bored eyes, paired up with his slim, rouge lips and his short, straight nose.

For being in his thirties, he looks good.

“What do you think you’re doing out here?” Tori is always behind her. Checking. Nosing around where he shouldn’t be. Sure, he does it out of worry, can’t let his fingers slip around her hold to keep her in place and make sure that everything runs smoothly. After all, he’s an investor in this place, but a breather wouldn’t go wrong.

She takes a puff from her cigarette, hiding her hands in the pockets of her black, elongated coat. Mixing in the shadows is for the better when running a business like this one. “Running away for a bit. What else would I be doing?”

Tori opens the door wider, his gray suit perfectly fitted around his buff body. The lights of the casino swirl behind him, a worried look on his features. “I don’t know. One of these days, I fear you may actually run away.”

Scoffing, she rolls her eyes. “As if I could.”

“She wouldn’t have wanted you to.”

At the mention of the ghost between them, she presses her lips together, unhooking the rounded sunglasses that rest on the collar of her shirt. “I know.” The memory of her still bleeds deep within her. The woman who took her in. The one that did everything for her, even lure her into a world of betting and losing. She never lost after having her in her life, and that’s as much as she could have ever hoped for. “Need me for anything important, Tori?”

She’s already halfway through the door, her baggy dress pants rubbing against each other as she moves away from the bar at the corner, followed by Tori right behind her. “A—Actually,” He catches up with her, a little bit breathless when he takes the cigarette from between her fingers. “I wanted to have a talk with you.”

Before he could take a drag of her cigarette, she snatches it away from his fingers, stopping on her tracks. “One would think that if you’re driving a Lambo around town, you wouldn’t have to steal my cigs.”

Tori smiles, all crooked teeth and faux innocent ways, looking down at her from his tall, almost enormous height. “Yours are a better brand.”

Truth be told, she has tried the cheapest of brands. Had to at the beginning of her career. Right now, she feels powerful enough to have the thing that will kill her on the long run be, at least, exquisite in shape and style. “And they are mine for a reason.” She tilts her head to the side, pointing at the other end of the casino. “Let’s meet at at my office to see what’s that important thing you need to talk to me about.”

“You’ve got it, boss.”

She will never get used to the title, because one year ago, she wasn’t the boss at all. She was just another worker at The Jungle, perhaps a very conceited one, hanging around the boss a little too often—her truest friend, if she’s honest. Serving drinks, drifting her eyes away from the people she knew were too important to be seen there. Those were the fun times, but then, the owner was gone. Disappeared. Leaving the casino under her watch on a last breath.

Allegra was not meant to be gone this early in her life. In her forties, she was aiming to be the biggest, most well-known casino, and she was on the way there. She took people in, from the streets and from raunchy places, turned them into polished versions of themselves and basked on their loyalty. She was one of them, and some of the other workers were, too. Though, a robbery in her office later and a few stabs to the chest, Allegra was gone.

Left like a kiss on the wind.

Though, the casino was just as outstanding. Conceptualized to be capturing, both in aesthetics and in entertainment. Compared to other casinos, bathed in the typical golden and red, The Jungle was specialized in darker colors and better security. Instead of having women in poles, they danced from cloths on the ceiling, as if they were branches, surrounded by green and brown walls, woodened tables and ignited lights putting in the typicality of a casino. It was a well-thought-out concept, that’s for sure.

The heavy woodened doors of her office are opened once her fingers push down the code to enter. Her office, once Allegra’s, glimmers for its intensity. Dulled forest green walls, glimpses of white, and the most carefully thought-out hiding spots.

It’s a nice business. It doesn’t mean it’s a safe one.

“So, Tori—” Though, she hears someone else waltzing inside, saying their hushed greetings to Tori just as she turns off her cigarette, hitting it against the wood of her desk. “Anything important I should know about?”

Giving someone your back means that they’re one second away from killing you. Out of everyone in The Jungle, Tori is the only one who was rich from the crib. An investor for a reason, and Allegra’s lover for some years before they decided they were better off as business partners. She trusts him, but maybe, it’s second-nature to be wary.

The singer of the casino, Junghoon, stands by his side, a hat over his long, straight black hair, sharp features and bone-structure almost hidden. He’s way smaller than Tori, with an air of arrogance that falls on borderline silly.

“We’ve found him.” Tori whispers, his smile dissipating when he takes a seat in front of her, extending his long legs forward.

“Who’s him?” She asks.

“The man who killed Allegra. We found him.”

One thing she couldn’t defend about Allegra is that she was a little bit too trusty. She could see a man that she was interested in, and it was as though all judgement left her brain. A night on someone’s sheets and with a man between her thighs and she was done for. Intelligence nowhere to be found.

It was clear it would be the cause of her death, but she has to expand her hands on the armrests of her office seat to be able to stand her weight, sitting down as the memories come flashing down. The blood on her hands. The ache of her chest. She lost her sister, though not blood-related, to whatever this man did.

A sharp breath leaves her lips, memories flooding back when she closes her eyes tightly. “H—How do you know?”

Tori is pensive for a few seconds, fixing the black tie around his neck before sighing. “I’ve been looking for a year, boss. You know how close I was to her. How much I loved her…” Tori may have never gotten over Allegra, but it’s very rare to see glimpses of him that aren’t bathed in his business-like judgement. “I talked and talked around until I found him. Well, a group. Of course, the crime couldn’t have been committed by just one person.”

The police had turned their backs on this. Unaware not, but not caring enough about raunchy people of society to be able to help them. Some of their team were good, others not so much, but justice needed to be made regardless.

“A group?”

“They’re well-known. Not for killers, but they are wealthy enough to frequent The Jungle.” Tori spits out, swirling his hand around the air as he explains. “A boxer slept with Allegra the night before her death. Lee Taeyong, I’m sure that’s his name. He’s a newbie with a small group of trainers, publicists, all of the life on his team. Around eight men.”

People of all categories frequent The Jungle, and boxers aren’t the exception, but she’s certain she has heard this name before. Though, she can’t quite put a face on it. “Tori, you can’t be making assumptions out of what people tell you. It could be someone trying to get to him, for all you know—”

He breathes out her name, different from his usual connotations of ‘boss’, and she knows he’s serious when he does so. “…I have a backbone for this. You just have to trust me.”

Silence engulfs them, sparing one glance towards Junghoon, patiently waiting by the door, just as she lets her fingers roam over the stacks of papers over her desk. “And what do you intend to do, Tori?”

This time, he seems to be happy about her choice of words. His face contorts in the sweetest of smiles, but she knows he’s anything but. “…I’m glad you asked, boss. I have it all planned.” The man interlocks his hands together, leaning his weight forward the slightest. “Taeyong will come to The Jungle tomorrow. You know the killer stole money from Allegra, lots of it, and that he stabbed her to death. So, I decided to give him some taste of his medicine.”

Allegra may have been like a sister to her, but there are a hundred steps from that to murder. “Tori, I won’t kill a man. Jesus, what kind of person do you take me for?”

“I know you’re not that kind of person…” He trails, voice deep when he looks down at his hands before his brown eyes connect with hers. “But I am. I’m just asking you to take the money away from him. All his cards. Leave him spotless, and then, I’ll take care of him.”

Gruesome images appear right behind her eyelids. Blood is definitely something she can’t stand, much more knowing she is one of the causes behind it. “I don’t want to.” She stands her ground, crossing one leg over the other and pushing her sunglasses away from her face. “Shit, Tori. This is hard stuff. I don’t want to have someone’s body on me, much more if they’re important.”

Tori scoffs. “He has enough enemies; they’re not going to know it was us.”

“I don’t want to, I said.”

“Listen, I don’t know if we’re on the same page here, but Allegra was practically sliced in half by her killer. She couldn’t even utter words properly when she died, innocently, just because she slept with someone and you decide not to take revenge?” Those words reverberate around her ears, resonating in awful ways, reminding her of that one night where they both found Allegra dead—

God, could it really have been a boxer?

“You have no idea if it’s him—” She argues, the voice of reason in this case.

“Explain the punches. Explain the hook-up. Explain the timing. If I’m not right, then why does everything fit?”

Her lips fall shut, rubbing her face with her palms, burning with the coldness of her fingertips when her index and middle fingertips press to her eyelids. Tori is not half-wrong. Allegra suffered, unattended by the hospital, given no sense of justice…but if this person is a boxer, they must be well-known.

“What do you have in mind?” She questions, but just as Tori smirks, she shakes her head. “Don’t think I’m supporting you, Tori. I just want to know.”

“I’ll be the one killing him. I need to do it. For me. For her.” His words are filled with purpose, eyes darkening. “But I need someone to keep him in a room. I will book a room in a hotel, and you’ll seduce him. I’m not saying that you’ll sleep with him, but it’s even better. I just need you to take his money and leave the room. I’ll enter them.”

“Holy fucking shit.” She whispers to herself, giving a glance towards Junghoon, much too quiet in his position. “I—I don’t think I can be part of it. I can’t stop you, but I’m not a seducer. Why me when there are a handful of great-looking, powerful strippers that could do the trick even better than I do?”

“He’s very collected and controlled by his team. After all, sleeping with strippers and prostitutes would not be nicely seen for an athlete.”

She chuckles at that, standing up from her position to move over to the door. “Okay. Out of my office. I won’t do it—”

“Come on, boss.” This time around, Junghoon’s lightweight voice takes place around the office. “Tori wanted me to help you out. I have some knowledge about the ladies and a pretty little dress may finally get your panties out of its twist and make you loosen up.”

Those words make her raise her eyes. Junghoon is a complete asshole, but she’ll give him and his baritone ways some slack because the people frequenting the casino love him to bits. “And a pretty little turn of your legs out of my office may help you keep your job, asshole.”

Tori’s pristine shoes tap against the tiles as he moves over to her. “It’s them or us.” He says, pointing towards the door. “You don’t know when he will do it again. Women are always killed for the most horrendous of reasons, just for being free. It’s not a sin if you take a sinner away.”

She sighs. “I don’t care if it’s a sin. I’ll go to hell either way. I care that it’s a crime, Tori, and I won’t go to prison.”

“That won’t happen.” He promises, grasping both hands in between his. “I just need your help, that’s all. If anyone will go to prison, which won’t happen, it will be me.” His eyes connect with hers, filled with certainty and honesty. “Please—”

Allegra’s face pops back behind her eyelids. Despair. Loss. Pain. All her life taken away because of what one man decided to do. She opens her eyes then, humming in return.

“I’ll help you.”

###

“Come on, another jab. To the jaw, Taeyong, go higher—”

The plan never was to be a boxer. The plan, indeed, would have been to take over his grandmother’s bakery, stuff his face with chocolate at least once a week, and let time pass with professionalism. Destiny would come to him one day, with some money in his pocket, bring the love of his life over, have a family, own a dog, then have a child and it would continue on until the day of his death. He’d bake for his family, for the neighborhood, too, and never lay a hand on anyone.

His arm extends, boxing gloves rubbing against his bony hands as his eyes concentrate on the target. Sweat accumulates on his hairline, his bleached blonde hair tied on a ponytail behind his back, toned stomach uncovered, loose shorts wrapped around his slim hips as he moves his legs back and forth, keeping some distance before coming for the hit.

Now, he can say he’s skilled, but when he was discovered, it was such chance as luck. Grandma liked for him to take a casket of buns and pastries each afternoon after school to sell them. It helped the business, and he could give out some business cards in the process to help expand. It was the easiest task a fourteen-year-old boy could have. Get on a bus, sell some pastries, go around the neighborhood and come around with clients, orders and money.

It was when someone older, a young man around eighteen or nineteen years old, had tried to steal from him that his eyes had flared with anger. One of the most fulfilling afternoons monetarily almost slipped away from his grasp, had it not been for the piling rage that left him two options. Lose the money that his grandmother desperately needed or man up and fight for it. His fists were uncontrollable, such force coming from self-defense, with a few people having to pull them away in the streets. His eyes blurred with tears at the time, knuckles bathed in blood—from his own body, actually, all he did was break the man’s nose and those who tended his wounds are now part of his team.

Thirty-two wins. Zero loses. Zero ties. Ten knock-outs. Knock-outs are the worse; there is something inherently fearful about having someone drop to the ground thanks to his punches that he lands. It gives more money than the bakery ever would, and his family doesn’t have to work half as harshly as they used to thanks to his success. Well-earned, but not easy at all.

He spent years practicing. Only two years ago did he actually get to debut in the big leagues. With cameras around him, interviews, surprised by how this underground boxer in his teens suddenly became someone of importance. Travelling around the world in order to earn his name.

And now is the time to become light featherweight champion.

Another punch has one of his staff stumbling back, just at the same time that the bell rings. It’s then that he moves to the corner of the gym, inspecting the walls covered in posters of the biggest boxing champions, gulping on water to be able to wash down his tiredness.

From behind him, two people emerge. One shorter, buffer, face filled with wrinkles as he speaks to Taeyong. His trainer, to be exact. The other, much younger, parts his black hair in the middle, always wearing dark clothes and holding an agenda up to his chest. His publicist, if anything.

Soonhwan, his trainer, fixes the ponytail behind his head as he speaks. “Listen, Bruce Lee, start getting confident in your punches or Eiji will knock you on your ass on the first round.” Eiji is the current champion, prepared for eight years, quickened in his movements and filled with endless cockiness. “He’s been talking real talk to the media and we need to shut him up, Taeyong.”

Dongyoung is the one in charge with the media, completely stressed out as he puts his agenda to the side and looks down at his tablet. “He’s spoken?” Taeyong asks, licking his lips after finishing off half of the bottle. Finally, Dongyoung looks up, pushing his bangs away from his forehead.

“Too much, I’d say. I’d put a fist in his mouth if I didn’t know he could break me in half if he wanted to.” Dongyoung speaks out, pointing the tablet towards Taeyong’s face. The article is too long for him to read all at once, but Dongyoung simplifies it for him. “He’s said you opened your butterfly wings and he’s ready to take you down. Something about you just being a lucky guy in the right place at the right time, but no substantial talent behind you and just bullshit over bullshit.” Dongyoung pulls the tablet away before scoffing. “We’ll keep quiet, but the guy is testing me…”

His eyes soften, pushing his lips together when he looks at Dongyoung. “He really said all that?”

Soonhwan lays his hands on his shoulders, moving him from side to side. “You need to toughen up, boy. Eiji is made of steel, both physically and mentally, and I don’t want his words to get to you.”

No matter how many times he physically fights, Taeyong will never get used to it. Call it presumption or something of the like of guilt, but landing punches and raising his fists after doesn’t bring him utmost happiness. Stability? Of course. It pays the bills. Does the trick. It’s what he has prepared for the past handful of years.

“I’ll be fine.” Taeyong leans his head back, bones cracking in the process, staring up at the ceiling. “Just need a breather. And a meal. Haven’t eaten since the morning.”

Dongyoung doesn’t know how to express his concern at most times, writing something down on his agenda as he speaks. “You haven’t been eating your proteins, Taeyong.”

“I’ll have all the steak you give me right about now.”

“How about this, my boys?” Soonhwan doesn’t have children of his own, and by being the oldest of the staff, with a boxing career that has lived to be legendary but not ever-lasting, he has found the two youngest to be like his children. One of his arms ends up around Taeyong’s shoulders, the other engulfing Dongyoung closer to him as he speaks. “I know a pretty good casino at the center of the city. The Jungle. It has pretty women, nice tables, excellent drinks and food. They serve the best sauces I’ve ever tasted in my whole entire life.”

Truth be told, it’s been a while since he has found himself relaxed. Taeyong is about to shake his head when Dongyoung nods from his spot. “I could have a few drinks.”

“But I can’t.” Taeyong conquers. “The fight is in a month.”

Dongyoung shrugs then, a smirk taking over his features. “I’ll drink for you, then.”

“Asshole.”

“Hey, you were the one that became a boxer. Not me.”

“Boys, boys, boys, calm down.” Soonhwan interrupts between the two. “We’ll just have fun. Play some poker. Call it a night early. It’s needed. We’ve been preparing for this fight for months.”

Truth be told, it doesn’t sound so bad. His staff, himself, and a nice bowl of whatever meat he could find, dipped in sauce, up to his lips, as he splays whatever cards are in poker on a table. Perhaps, if he’s lucky, he’ll get some money. If he’s not, he’ll lose some. Not too much, but enough.

A smile pushes itself to his face, pulling away from Soonhwan as he nods. “Okay, okay, we’ll go out.”

“That’s my boy!” He exclaims, patting his hand across his back. “Now finish him. We’re going out tonight.”

###

Drops of sunshine fall on her dress. If this can be considered a dress on her, really. Definitely not her style, the lace on the high collar makes her look polished, molding into her body like a golden second skin. This definitely comes from the closet of someone much more open to being, well, open. One turn to the side on her dancers’ mirror lets her see a glimpse of her ribcage and the side of her chest thanks the opened back and if she doesn’t walk short steps, her dress would definitely ride up her thighs.

Junghoon wasn’t the one to dress her up, and if she doesn’t know if she’s thankful for that. Jinhee, however, had taken it upon herself t turn her otherwise mysterious boss into one of the bombshells seen around The Jungle. Wig put in place, heels making her wobble in place, and the tint of her lips shining brightly under the harsh lights.

Jinhee spots a red wig of her own, her robe falling open when she crosses one leg over the other, half-dressed and ready for her show. “Atta boss. You look sexy.” The word makes her cringe, turning around to see Jinhee’s rounded eyes settled on her.

“Don’t say that word.” She punctuates, shaking her head in the process. “I feel like a clown.”

“Because you’re not used to it. Think we don’t feel like that from time to time? It’s the empowerment from your head that will make you feel like a badass.” Jinhee stands in front of her, straightening her back. “Now, boss, shoulders back, chest up, ass moving, that’s the first set of things to care about when getting someone’s attention,” Tori could have easily picked Jinhee for the work, but no, it had to be her. “But the eyes are the ones that are going to get you out of trouble. Most men don’t think when they see a gorgeous woman with an innocent gaze. They don’t know the difference between heaven and hell, and you’re about to show it to them. Use that to your advantage.”

“Jinhee, this is pointless.” Smacking her hands on each side of her thighs, she rolls her eyes. “I haven’t seduced a man in years.”

���It’s never too late to start.”

“He’s a boxer. Men like him get everyone they want.”

“So?” Jinhee asks, crossing her arms across her chest. “Make sure that who he wants is you. Prettiness is all over the world, but it’s the core of a person that make them stand out.”

She turns around, hands splaying on the vanity as she sees the informative picture Tori had given her. Taeyong has his gloved hands lifted in the air, curling his slim yet toned arms after a victory. His hair was red at the time, but she was informed he had dyed it to blonde, tied behind his head as a smile spreads across his handsome features. His eyes don’t have the look most people in his world have, filled with anger and pride. Somehow, he seems awestruck, like he can’t quite believe he is there.

The past few hours, she has been killing her mind with thoughts. All that can run through her head is the happiness of his smile, the people cheering for him in that picture, and the revenge that has overcome Tori’s senses. It doesn’t feel right. Seducing him isn’t what she would have imagined for the night, but it’s what Tori wants…

It’s what Allegra deserves for what he, supposedly, did to her.

“Jinhee, give me a minute.” She takes the photo in between her hands, folding it in place before sighing. “I have to get something in my office.”

“Okay, but be careful with those heels. The dress is Versace, the shoes are Valentino’s—”

“Nothing will happen to the heels. Don’t worry.”

Her steps are steady when getting out into The Jungle. As far as she knows, Taeyong is nowhere in sight as she moves towards her office, pushing down the code to have the doors opening.

The problem is…she can’t kill him. Steal what he had stolen from Allegra? Maybe, but she can’t help Tori kill the man when she is not certain if his sources are correct. Tori hangs around some people that she doesn’t entirely trust. Bad to the core. They could be lying because of any hatred they could hold against Taeyong.

And sure, she could be wrong. Taeyong may have been the culprit of Allegra’s death, but she’d rather die knowing that she saved a life than live with the thought of murdering someone innocent.

Opening the drawers, she sees the pistol Tori keeps there. It’s for safety measures, he says, but she never touches it. It belongs to him, used for his own protection, but she’d rather not have her fingerprints all over it. Taking it in between her hands and with some isopropyl alcohol by her side, she unloads it, making sure to take all the bullets there and place them inside her strongbox.

When she cleans the gun and puts it back in place, she sighs. He better not notice it.

With that, she scavenges into the casino once again, careful steps trying to look a little bit too confident. Not failing in the process, luckily.

### 

“Shit.”

Through his yellow sunglasses, Taeyong manages to cover the glimpse of comedy that begs to seep through his voice. Dongyoung splays his money on the poker table as if it was his flag, crossing his arms over his chest like a kid without his toy. Truth be told, Taeyong is, also, awful at this game, but he doesn’t get petty when he has to give his money to the winner of the game.

The Jungle is somewhere new for him, but Dongyoung has been here before. An outcast, through and through, with the way he dressed himself in a silk beige suit from head to toe, bringing a smile up to his face.

“Dressed like a winner, living like a loser?”

The man in question digs his elbow on Taeyong’s ribcage, stealing a gasp away from him, combined with laughter. “Shut the fuck up. You’re not that good either.”

“I know.” Taeyong says, lifting his bottle of water up to his lips, maintaining his health even through a night with his team. His trainer is somewhere on another table, but he can’t bring himself to keep his gaze away from the game as they divide the cards in between the players. “But I accept it, Dongyoung. I suck at this game. You should, too—”

“I don’t suck at this game.” Dongyoung, always trying to the highest reach, lets the words cling between his teeth as he speaks. “I’m just out of practice.”

Shrugging, Taeyong lets him live his dream. “Whatever you say. Whatever you say…”

For one moment, he lets himself get involved in the movement of the cards, but instead, the clicking of heels captures his attention. It’s the consuming curiousness that overtakes him that makes his attention flee away. If anything, he should be used to it. There are strippers at The Jungle, and of course, they’re going to be using heels in the process, but once he leans back on his chair, his leather jacket rubbing against the fabric, he sees a pair of swinging hips he can’t take his eyes away from.

He has a thing for untainted presences, like an angel in between a sea of sinners. It’s better, after all, when having someone who knows their strength but doesn’t quite show it, to correlate with them, as well. Surprising, it is, and he knows it’s the case with her. Eyes gleaming in seriousness as she moves through the seas of people and though she’s a bit awkward with her heels and she doesn’t walk with as much confidence as she should when sporting a body like that, he’s staring.

He bites down on his lip, raising his eyebrow when he sees her move directly towards him. Dongyoung chuckles by his side, low and breathy, when he nudges his side. “You always get the good ones.”

Though, Taeyong breaks his gaze away from hers once she gives him a smile. In reality, his ears burn in bright red shades, concealed in the darkened stance of The Jungle. “What are you talking about?”

“She’s practically eating you with her eyes.” Dongyoung finalizes.

“Yeah, so?” Taeyong continues, conversation not over, even when he hears her move closer. That ‘tip-tap’ of her heels may become his newest favorite tempo. “I’m not looking for anything.”

“Well, she’s looking at you. Do with that what you will.” Taeyong knows the difference between wrong and right, but he can’t tell why his body practically paralyzes at the alluring scent by his side. When his face turns around, his cards underneath his fingers, now divided between the group, he sees her from up-close. Delicious lips, mascara-coated eyelashes framing her eyes perfectly, windows to a soul short from enigmatic. It’s fucking hypnotizing.

“Saw you lose from over there.” Her fingers point towards one of the tables, not too far away. Soonhwan was there, that’s all he knows. “You’re not too good at poker, aren’t you?”

“Not good with cards at all.” Taeyong confesses, licking his lips when he lifts up his cards and inspects them with a frown on his features. He wants to look prepared, but he has no idea what they mean. “I don’t know what they mean.”

“Oh,” She breathes out, leaning over his shoulder to look at the cards. “You’re fucked.”

The way she says those words has Taeyong leaning back against her touch. He has an idea what that could mean for him, and God, if he has to be fucked— “What? Why?”

Their voices are low, and her breath fans on his earlobe, lighting the little hairs on his nape on fire when she fiddles with the edge of the card. “A 2-7 offsuit. Worst hand at poker. Don’t go too high on your bets.” Her chin juts towards one of the men in front of him. “He’s as bad as you are, so don’t you worry.”

“Boss!” One of the men by the table speaks, tapping his cigarette-holder against his finger to let the ashes fall on his dark suit. The man is over his forties, and the whine on his tone is somewhat annoying. “What are you doing helping that little boy out?”

“I’m teaching him, Hino. He doesn’t know a thing.”

The man speaks through his crooked teeth. Better quit smoking now. “Then, he should’ve thought about that before ruining my game of poker.” His voice slurs, raided by nicotine, husky and raspy to the point he finds himself lost in some of the syllables he says.

Instead, she rests her arm on the backseat of his chair. “My place, my rules, my game. Sorry, Hino.”

He calls out what seems to be her name, and Taeyong turns his head around to look at her before this could escalate any further. “Don’t worry,” He replies, brown eyes inspecting her features. “I’ll get out of the game, if that is the case. I don’t want to bother anyone.”

Just as he stands up, splaying his already terrible hand at poker on the table, Hino wants to say something else. “He just ruined the game—”

“Calm down, Hino. He’s new to this.” Though, she follows after his steps, getting away from the seat and standing by his side. “Take a breather. I’ll pay whatever he owed in this game, and that’s it. Just…relax.”

What is it with this woman?

There is something so inherently seductive and attractive about her. Boss, that means that she has a position here…maybe, she owns the whole place.

Hino shuts his mouth, enough to have the woman smiling, but that sets him off. “You put on a dress and you change entirely.”

Taeyong can’t imagine her without a dress. Or, yeah, he can—but those legs are exquisite enough to worship for the rest of his life. “Happens.” Is the entire excuse she has, softly wrapping her arm around Taeyong’s arm when she says: “Want me to invite you a drink, player?”

For some reason, Taeyong is starting to believe she is the player here. Still, he loves it. “Sure, let’s go.”

###

“So, you own this place?”

Call it curiousness or his fidgety persona, but Taeyong’s fingertips trace the outline of his drink as he asks the big questions about her. One of her legs is crossed over the other, seated by his side on the bar counter, with sprinkles of the sugar in her drink scattered across her lip-gloss.

Now, Taeyong knows a lot about pretty women. They are everywhere, around him, talking to him, falling for the boxer he is. They never once stop and think that he is more than a few good punches. So far, she hasn’t spoken about that—about him. She asked questions, taught him the basics of poker, answered to his every word until silence overcame them.

She chuckles, nodding to his words. “I do.” Leaning on the backrest of the stool, she rolls her eyes slightly. “I run this place to the best of my abilities.”

Taeyong sips on his drink, unaware as to why he had never come here before. Soonhwan better wrap him up some more nights for going out. “I imagine you’re really good.”

“I manage.” She shrugs, turning to look at him with her chin resting on her palm. “It’s not that I’m particularly good at it, but hey…I make everyone believe I have everything together.” Her words are coated in the sincerest of manners, sighing deeply when she plops her hand on her drink, asking another one from the bartender who already knows what she wants. “…That’s what you want to do when you’re playing poker, Taeyong. Make everyone believe you have it together, even if you don’t.”

Just what the fuck is going on with him? He questions himself. One of the strippers dangles from the sky, dancing to her heart’s content, earning howls and whistles from men that definitely include people from his staff. Money rains from the sky and falls pathetically on the flooring, but his eyes are trained on hers, laughing along to her words.

Truth is—Taeyong sees beauty, but he never sees the beauty that urges him to get to know more about someone. If he is lucky, he gets a pretty model by his side, a singer that he dates for two months and then, the distance becomes unbearable. In most occasions, he is too busy to date. A kiss to a not-so-close friend to pass time. A smile at a socialite to spend the night. It has come down to this…to watching faces blend and personalities dissipate into nothing. They fade to black, irrelevant inside his brain.

“And how exactly do I do that?” Taeyong questions, turning around on the stool until his legs are prodding against the side of her thighs. She repeats his actions, slightly parting her legs to interlock it with his, and it takes all the will inside of him not to have his eyes linger on the uncovered skin.

Her finger touches his chin, softly, delicately—for someone who rules this place, she is as tranquil as it can get. Mysterious and mellow, Taeyong can’t quite put his finger around the paradigm of her. “It’s in the eyes, Yong.” The nickname has him raising his eyebrows, a smile splaying over his features. “You have pretty eyes. Use them to your favor.”

He leans forward then, licking his lips to bite down on his bottom one. “And how exactly do I do that?” Breaths mingle when he speaks, stench bathed in alcohol, and though he’s nowhere near tipsy, he’s hypnotized by her beauty. So unlike whatever he has seen in this world of money and fame.

“Look in my eyes.” Her fingers point at her own, and Taeyong nods. He doesn’t have to be asked twice. “What do you see?”

His eyes rake down her features after capturing her gaze for a few seconds. “That you’re gorgeous.”

Laughter bubbles from her at that moment, the changing lights of the casino casting over her face. The music has gotten louder, bass boosted, but even if his biggest celebrity crush had taken her clothes off right there and then, in The Jungle, he wouldn’t have looked away from her. “No, you have to think that you see yourself. Eyes are not windows to the soul. They are mirrors, Taeyong.” She explains, one hand splaying on top of his, rested on his thigh, when she leans forward to keep their eyes connected. One single movement and their lips would touch. “When you’re playing poker, or when you want to lie to someone, you only have to think that you’re looking at yourself. Like, when you’re practicing for a big speech and you practice in front of the mirror to see the motions and get a grasp of what you want to say.”

Taeyong hums, concentrating on his reflection in her pupils. Dilated. God, she’ll be the death of him. “And then?”

“Don’t smile.” Her hand reaches for his cheeks, pulling down the smile before sighing. “Twinkling eyes are okay; your eyes are just like that…but you have to be serious and conniving. Scheme, Taeyong. The body follows what your mind says.”

“Okay.” He pulls his lips down, earning laughter from her.

“You look like you’re sad.”

“I’m just trying not to laugh.”

Swatting her hand against his shoulder, softly, she speaks up: “I’ll take it.” Soon, she continues explaining. “After you are serious, with all your scheming ways going on, you look at the people around the table. Look for giveaways of what they are feeling.”

Taeyong shudders when her breath ghosts against his lips. Never has he wanted to kiss anyone with this fervor, as if running a fever just by her mere lack of touch. “I can tell something.”

“What do you mean?” His eyes trail down to her lips, desiring to lick the sugar off the skin.

“Your pupils got big.” He feels dumb saying it out loud, but he reconnects his gaze with hers. “Doesn’t that mean that you’re into me?”

Tilting her head to the side, the diamonds around her neck glisten. Money, that seems to match her smile. “I have eyes, Yong.” She answers. “…But you’re not too far behind, you know?”

A smile takes over his features once again. “Oh, I know what I want. You don’t have to worry about that.”

Rolling her tongue with each word, she spits out: “What or who?”

If he had to plead, he would. Never had he felt this immense connection with somebody—it has been a while, that’s for sure. It’s not complicated; a night with her and he’ll be off the hook, sedating his thirst for curiousness. His trainer once told him his ambition will be the death of him, but why not reach for the stars when he’s already in a plane? “You. Goddamn it, it’s you.”

“You want me?” She questions, resting her hands on his waist, only to have Taeyong wrapping his digits around her nape.

“Thought I made it clear.”

“I’m good at reading signs…” She trails. “But there’s nothing as good as speech, Yong.”

His mind is clouded and if she asked him to, right at that moment, he would give her everything he has ever gotten. “I want to kiss you.”

“And then?”

“Wherever you want to take it.” Taeyong instructs, playing with the small hairs on the back of her neck.

“I know a hotel we can go to, if that is what you’re implying.”

The forest walls engulf all rational thoughts away from him, as if his soul was sucked out of his body and exchanged for a man starved. Taeyong leans forward, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss, though slow, meticulous, wanting to taste every portion of her soul. She parts her lips soon enough, a small groan captured in the back of her throat when she trails to the edge of her seat and curves her back to mold into him.

No one has ever fit him better.

Maybe, Taeyong should have thought with a clearer head, should have not told Dongyoung he’d be going to a hotel with someone on the way out of the casino, should have not gotten in a that damned SUV Soonhwan insisted on having a chauffeur using to drive him around, as he scattered kisses down her neck, learning to trail after her sighs and noises. But he did, and he did it with glee, needing a fucking second of relaxation and away from the boxing world.

And when he looks into her eyes, he doesn’t see himself, but he sees a reflection…

Desire.

###

Somehow, it feels as though Taeyong adores everything around his world. He thanks the sun for coming up in the morning, loves the stars that scatter across the sky when the night falls down, and of course, the way he looks at her, as if she is a goddess taken straight out from his fantasies. And she isn’t.

God, she is not one bit of it.

Getting distracted by him is easy, legs splayed underneath her weight, with his jacket and shirt disregarded somewhere in the hotel room, warm skin melding against hers when she presses her lips to his. Sympathizing with him is easy, much more when his fingers seem to know exactly where to press and trail after. He may look innocent, but he’s not one bit of it.

She gets lost in it, loves the way his eyes glimmer when she pulls away from him, playing with the straps of her dress and tugging them down the slightest, scattering kisses along her shoulders and the only thing she can hear is the voice inside her head. Sure, she has saved him—taken the bullets away from the gun that Tori was going to use against him, but there is always a possibility…

And shit, she has to steal from him.

She closes her eyes tightly, only opening them again when Taeyong softly searches for her lips, pecking them once before asking, in the softest of tones. “You don’t mind if I take off your dress, do you?”

Laughter comes naturally when around him, and though she is not herself in this dress, she can’t deny that Taeyong has won her interest over with just his speech. So polite, so tranquil, so interesting and caring in every way. She shrugs her shoulders then, spreading her fingers on his slim yet toned chest, before saying:

“I’m on your lap in some hotel, and I’m halfway through taking off your pants…isn’t that permission?”

“It’s not.” Taeyong says. “I will only do what you tell me to do, beautiful.”

She’s a piece of shit. She’ll go to hell for this, but she’ll have a good time before everything falls down.

Now she knows the exact reason why Allegra had spent the night with him before dying.

A whine lingers on the back of her throat, nodding. “Take it off, Yong.”

### 

For her, life was chaos. Clashing of memories that come down to conclusions she is never too happy with. It’s running and never reaching the end-line, or having someone stick a leg out just to see her falling on the way there. It’s definitely not peacefulness, and not spending the last two hours just enjoying Taeyong’s embrace around her, unable to fall asleep knowing what she has to do.

The first strike was when she looked past her reflection in his eyes, that is what brought the guilt down on her. Then, it was the way he treated her—not as if she was made of paper, but as if he wanted her to enjoy herself as much as she could. To make it unforgettable and loving, even if it didn’t mean much. No one had ever taken the time with her, not even the people she dated in the past, let alone her lack of lovers in the past few years.

One of his arms is over his abdomen, the other softly wrapped around her shoulders. His hair is done a mess, all thanks to her, the strands falling over his closed eyes, lips half parted, nose letting out the softest of snores, barely audible. She smells like the bath they had taken together, and she hates it. Despises the fact that she doesn’t want to pull away from him when she lifts her gaze to look at him.

Lips reddened, soul tainted, and on the verge of being robbed, Taeyong doesn’t look like the type of man that killed Allegra…but Tori is so certain. Tori was there throughout her years with Allegra, and he had always treated her like a little sister. He wouldn’t lie to her, no matter how dangerous he could get.

Maybe, Taeyong was one of those dangerous, beautiful threats.

And as always, she can’t trust anyone.

She stands up then, careful not to awake him, when she tugs at the dress scattered on the flooring and her underwear, putting them on in the blink of an eye before grasping Taeyong’s pants and jacket in between her fingers, rummaging through his pockets until she finds his wallet. The clothing drapes on the floor once again, lurking through the leather of the wallet until she finds them.

Three black cards and a platinum card.

She leaves him the platinum card, taking the three black cards as payment for what he did to Allegra. He may not die, but he also won’t have a nice time after this.

So, what is stopping her when she is by the door, looking over her shoulder to see Taeyong splayed in the dark, an arm still extended as if waiting for her to linger on his side. She feels like shit, but it’s what she has to do. She felt even worse when Allegra died, and that was her only friend dying right in her office. The office she frequents every single day, on top of that.

Sucking in a breath, she opens the door, cancelling all thoughts of staying there and getting to know him. Taeyong is not a good person, that’s for sure. If the only person she has left to trust tells her he is the bad guy, it’s because he is. But why is it so hard to believe?

She saved his life. The least she can do is get his money, right?

Her head is thumping by the time she gets out of the door, three black cards richer with her heart in her sleeve. Life was never meant to be easy.

###

Fingers frozen after mixing drinks endlessly, her back rested against the harsh walls of her new workplace, The Jungle. Her head lulled to the side, trying to keep herself awake after her workhours, wishing for the sun to rise so she wouldn’t have an excuse to fall asleep, but it was four in the morning. Forever was more of what those two hours left felt like.

Truth was, it was all her fault. She would not have to sleep near the back door of this expensive casino had she not trusted people too easily. Her boyfriend, fuck, she had loved that man to bits—promised him the world and back. Daniel swore back and forth that they were going to have a future together, that they would get out of their little neighborhood and reach for the sky.

As it turned out, just as they had moved in together, he reached for her bank account and took all the money she had left. The money she had earned with hard work, while he scratched his balls around the apartment. The one she lost two months after, and the one she couldn’t afford to get back.

Well, she was on the way there. She had only worked here for a week, and if she ignored the cold, sleeping on the backdoor was not so bad. Daniel could go live a somewhat good lifestyle, but she would get up again one day. She just had to wait for her first paycheck and stay in a motel—

The door opened then, almost knocking her over, but awakening her successfully. She moved to the side, aware of how dangerous it was to be out in the open like this—then again, what other option did she have? It was either this or sleeping in a box on the streets.

Much to her distaste, it was the boss. Allegra, with the vibrato in her voice and the relaxation in her features. Her lips were plush, face enigmatic, hair too short to be grasped. She always wore the tallest heels she had seen, dressed to perfection from head to toe, ready to bite the night and make it her own.

“Oh, darling,” Allegra said, fingers pointing at the corner of the casino’s back-place. As it turned out, she saw a little glimmering light there, making her frown deeply. Shit, that was a camera. “When I was checking around for robbers, I didn’t expect to see my newest bartender sleeping on the streets.”

“I—I’m so sorry, miss.” She spoke, voice youthful, lowering her head to look at her dirtied hands. Shit, the dust on the concrete must have stained her skin. “It won’t happen again…”

“Why?”

She lifted her head then, looking at Allegra. “Why what?”

“Why do you sleep here?”

Embarrassment bathed over her features, heat taking over them when she looked into the woman’s eyes. Successful, and perhaps on the way to kicking her out of there. “…I have nowhere else to go. I got kicked out of my apartment.”

With that, Allegra’s features softened even more, if that was even possible. She kneeled in front of her, extending her hand to wave it in front of her, as if trying to catch her. “Then, you’re coming with me.”

She gasped, choking a bit on her saliva. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not letting someone live in the streets, much less if it’s a woman we’re talking about.” Allegra moved her hand, as if to catch her attention any further, but she clung onto herself. This was too much of an issue.

“You don’t have to, miss—”

“Allegra.” She corrected, quirking one of her eyebrows. “And I want to.” With that, her fingers extended towards her, waving them to calling her over.

“I don’t want to be a bother—”

This was what the world taught her. She never could ask her family for help, for they were the first ones to tell her not to get involved with Daniel, her high school love, the man that was supposed to make her feel like they were at the top of the world, but only managed to bring her down. She would never forgive him for taking away everything she ever had, that was for sure.

Allegra sighed, giving lessons without knowing, like she always did. “It is not a bad thing to trust people, darling. I know you’re scared now, but the magic of life comes from trusting people and letting yourself feel. There are enemies everywhere, but out of all badness, there will be a glimmer of good.”

The moment she wrapped her fingers around Allegra’s hand was when their friendship started, and what a shame, it was, that her singular advice—to trust people just to find the good ones in between the bad—was the solemn thing that got her killed.

###

Taeyong awakens to constant clicking, a string of curse words in a manly voice, and in an empty bed.

Brown eyes open to see an unknown man standing next to his bed. He’s at gunpoint, with a pistol directly pointed at his face that he manages to run away from. The blankets cover his naked body when he stands up from the bed, a scream leaving his lips when he studies the expression of the man in front of him. Much to his confusion, however, the killer continuously pulls the trigger only to come up with a clicking noise. No bullets coming out, definitely not a bang against his head because he would have died already…

“What the fuck?!” Taeyong asks, heart picking up in a rhythm he can’t control. The killer has mussy hair and a suit, perched to be a man of wealth, but he doesn’t recognize him one bit. Even so, he knows his intentions. “W—Who are you and how did you get inside?”

The man in question lets the gun fall to the side of his body, extending his palms on each side of his head in surrender, well-lifted with his elbows crooked. “Easy…easy…”

“I asked you some questions. Give them an answer because you definitely don’t want to see me angry.” Now that the gun is down, Taeyong is ready to defend himself if necessary. He wraps the white blanket fully around his hips, trying to—at least—keep himself cladded in this situation. “Who are you?”

The killer calls out her name. The woman he had slept with last night comes in full view at that moment, void of her presence in this room. His heart thumps mercilessly against his chest, burning his ears, rubbing at his lungs and distinguishing his breathing. Taeyong can’t control herself.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He’s done playing the good guy, stepping towards his clothing and putting them on now that he knows there is not a loaded gun pressed to him. His back is not turned towards this man, however.

The coward keeps his hands up in the air, frowning at his words. “Ah, she was the one that hired me.” Those words don’t settle well in his stomach. He was one step away from death just because of the person he connected with just mere hours ago? His stomach churns at the idea. “Check your wallet and you’ll see that she stole from you. She does that to everyone, man. It’s what she does. How did you think she got that casino going?”

The rapidness of the man’s voice speaks of fear, enough to have Taeyong lifting his butt after putting on his pants to rummage through his wallet. The leather rubs against his fingertips, and he stops for a second. There is no way in hell that she had hired someone to kill him. She could have done so herself, if that is what she wanted. Besides, she didn’t seem like the type—

He opens the wallet. Three of his cards are missing, only his platinum one left.

He had been lied to. Scammed. Robbed. Almost killed, had it not been for the lack of bullets.

“P—Please, don’t call the police.” The hitman—and Taeyong is guessing he is that—says with his hands up in the air, moving towards the door. “I’ll tell you where she is, really. Exactly where you can find her right now and you can take the police there but please…please…don’t…”

The pathetic tone in his voice has Taeyong erasing all thoughts of anger, but he exchanges it for betrayal. He bites the inside of his cheek, putting on his shirt as he speaks to the man. “Get out of my face before I smack some sense into you. You just tried to kill me and expect me to forgive you?”

“She was the one who did it. I—I…I couldn’t bring myself to do it.” The man is much older than him, but the way his eyes glisten, like a kicked animal, makes him lose all trust he did not even have on him.

But what does he know? He was the one who trusted a complete stranger last night and almost got robbed and killed.

He pushes his wallet inside his pocket, speaking lowly. “Where is she?”

“In her office at The Jungle. I can tell you the code if you want.”

Taeyong scoffs. “No, you will tell me the code. I need to get her in jail.” He can’t believe that their connection had completely subsided to this. Even worse, that he trusted someone so easily and now, he was on the verge of dying.

Why would she want to kill him for, either way? Fame, success, money? She already had that!

Bad people roam through the air like mosquitoes, that’s for sure.

“One-two-seven-zero-five.” The killer spits out, only to have Taeyong nodding.

“Okay. Anything else I should know?”

“Don’t tell her you saw me.” He says, and Taeyong rolls his eyes, moving towards the door with purpose.

She better start thinking about having fun behind bars, because he is not going to get played with that way. His heart aches, eyes battling tears of betrayal after just trusting someone. Well, there is a reason as to why Soonhwan told him not to trust one-night stands, but he would have never expected this to happen to him.

He needs to make justice out of this, that’s all he knows.

###

Peace. Quiet. Loneliness. The Jungle is empty, void of any costumers, strippers or bartenders. Everyone is off to their houses, just like peace has left her long ago.

It’s been hours, goddamn it, hours since she had left Taeyong in that hotel room, and her mind couldn’t stop whirling like a ceiling fan. All she can think about is the fact that at seven in the morning, exact, Tori would go to his room, try to shoot him, and find the pistol void of bullets. If she’s lucky, he would not have one of his own. She’s almost certain that he hasn’t, because this is Tori she is talking about. He relies on her like a child on their mother.

But still, she can’t bring herself to feel any less guilty. Besides, the pieces didn’t quite match. Taeyong had said last night, in between their introductions and it could very well be a lie, that it was his first time there. Truth was, it felt honest. He would have stepped back had he managed to have a thing with Allegra, much more after Hino outed the most important factor about her personality—that she was, indeed, the boss in The Jungle.

Any normal person with at least two fingers of forehead would have ran out of there. Sleeping with someone, who was possibly close friends with someone he apparently killed, is not the best route to take.

Tori wants her to believe Taeyong did it. Taeyong, who had been sweet, tranquil, nice enough to hold her hand after sex, clean her up if she will, treat her like a pillow princess after everything was over—

The cards glisten when she takes a seat on the center of the casino. All lights are turned off, the shadows making the black cards mock her. A thief, she would have never thought she’d become that.

Truth is…she knows what kind of people Tori and Allegra are. Or was, in Allegra’s case. That’s why Allegra opened her arms up to her—because she knew what it was like to end up in the streets. Both from wealthy families but with dirtied hands, they had done the impossible to withstand the titles behind their names. Their nicknames, even, she doesn’t think she has called them by their real names—ever. They had businesses to withhold, families to take care of, and contracts to keep.

Being good in this world is so rhetorical, even metaphorical. Rules are there, but sometimes, we dare judge them according to the people around us. Call her a dog biting her owner’s hand, but Allegra was at risk of getting killed. If someone like her, just some simplistic friend that ended up as the owner of a casino, has to keep enemies close in order to get things done, then she can’t imagine what it was like for Allegra.

It’s not justified…what they did to her, it will never stop hurting, but it makes sense. It’s what happens when people when involved with crime, even more if it’s with those who have enough power to erase all trails of their injustice.

The doors of the casino open, enough to have her standing up from the table. Shit, she had forgotten to close those. She was about to, but she had stayed talking to one of the strippers, losing time only to, casually, get lost in her own thoughts after. It should be one of the workers, forgetful of an object, but it’s nine in the morning and who he sees takes her off guard.

Wearing the same clothes as last night, Taeyong has never looked so different. All rays of sunshine in his smiles and his eyes are gone. Void of that, he frowns deeply, letting the heavy door close behind him when he runs his fingers through his blonde hair and spits out the ungodliest lie.

“You tried to kill me.”

In reality, she stole from him, like the poor little thief she never was. There is nothing better than revenge, she had once heard, but this is horrid. She knows, in this case, that she was the one that fucked everything up. Nothing about the puzzle Tori had created made sense.

She swallows thickly, extending her hand once he is in front of her, though far away to keep meters of distance. Different from how they were last night. It’s time to cut the bullshit. “Here are your cards.” She whispers, voice hoarse. “I didn’t intend on killing you. I was supposed to just steal from you—”

Taeyong scoffs, snatching the cards away from her with a tight grip, hand smacking against his side from the force. “I got lucky, you know? Something in destiny switched and the bullets in the pistol were not there, but I could have fucking died and just because you wanted to steal from me?” He spits out the words as if treating with a gold-digger. She doesn’t judge the player or the game, but she has never been like that. Dated an asshole in her life, decided not to do it again, not even for money.

Though, why would he think that? She obviously doesn’t need the money now.

She frowns, shaking her head. “I stole from you because of what I have heard about you, Taeyong.” It’s time to uncover the truth, for even in his haunt for reality, Taeyong had fallen far behind. “I have enough money to have black and platinum cards of my own. I’m not some prostitute.”

His brown eyes don’t show her image, she has stopped mirroring herself when looking at him. She sees pain. Clear as day. The kind of look that is given to a man when everything he believed in is suddenly changed. “But you are a murderer. You didn’t even have enough braveness to do it yourself—”

“Where exactly did you get all of this from?” She asks, teeth clattering against each other when she tries to connect the dots of what Taeyong envisions. “Taeyong, I stole from you, and sure, I knew someone was planning on killing you…I…I was supposed to take you there so you were murdered, but I didn’t have the heart—”

He widens his eyes, running his hands through his hair once again. “Shit, am I supposed to feel better about that?”

“I’m not a murderer! I wasn’t the one that had the idea. All I did was take the bullets out so no one would kill you, and I wouldn’t lose the trust of the only person I have left!” Taeyong must have gotten it all wrong, and she doesn’t know why her breathing picks up the way it does. She knows she’ll go to hell, maybe because she acknowledges things like this happen in her casino all the time, but it’s the price she has to pay for the life that was crafted for her.

What wouldn’t have she given to live a happy life with Daniel, perhaps get married on the long run, get a job that was proper and stay on the downlow until the day of her death?

But he robbed from her, and now she is in his position.

“What would have happened if he got some bullets from someone else? If he had noticed before—?”

“He wouldn’t have, Taeyong.”

“You don’t know that!” His voice raises, getting closer to her with fire radiating from within. For one second, he breathes in and out, trying to calm himself down until his voice lulls to a lonesome blues. “…He could have killed me and you would have to live with that.”

She shakes her head, pressing her lips together when she looks to the side. “Well, the man that tried to kill you was the one that schemed it all.” Now, she doesn’t know why she isn’t protecting Tori, but it’s the lies that obvious scatter behind this mess that makes her say the truth. For once, she wants to riot out the reality inside of her. “Stop pointing fingers because I am not a murderer or a robber. I did it because—”

“I should feel grateful, shouldn’t I?” Taeyong asks, voice low. “I have to get on my knees and thank you because you took some bullets out. What did I do to deserve being robbed and threatened, almost murdered for fuck’s sake—?”

“He said—”

“He said, he said, he said! What did you think out of all this?” Taeyong questions, more knowledgeable than she’ll ever be. “You are old enough to have judgement, to know between wrong and right, to make decisions for yourself and let me tell you, with the sincerest heart, that your decision was wrong.”

She closes her eyes tightly, breathing through her nose when the image of Allegra pops inside her head. She died in her arms, how was she supposed to feel? “I was just trusting the people that I knew, Taeyong. I—It was wrong, I can accept that. I’m not saying it wasn’t. I just thought it was revenge for something I got told.”

“It’s not an excuse.”

“I’m not trying to find excuses.” She says. “The man you met, Tori, told me you killed my friend, Allegra. She was stabbed in her office by a man she saw that night. They robbed her of everything she had on her, made her seem…poor and reckless. They practically ripped her in half.” Her stomach churns at the image, bringing one hand up her mouth to stop the sensation of vomiting. “I’m not asking for mercy,” She opens her eyes, looking at him, truth spat out. “Or forgiveness, Taeyong. I’ve had enough bullshit in my life to know I don’t deserve either…but she didn’t deserve what she got done, either. I lost the only person who was there for me when I was at my lowest, in the most horrid of ways, and all I wanted was justice.” Shrugging, she sighs. “What a shame that justice for people in my side of the world can’t be through the police. They would put her as some whore who deserved what she had for enjoying casual sex, and I won’t have anyone talking shit about her, you hear me?”

Taeyong remains silent for a few seconds, taking in everything she said before placing his cards inside his pocket. “I didn’t know whoever you are talking about. I, fuck, I would never kill someone.”

She huffs. “That makes two of us.”

“That man…Tori,” Taeyong speaks the name out, testing it in his tongue. “He said you were the one that hired him to kill me.”

Those words paralyze her. No. It can’t be. Tori had treated her as part of his family, there is no way in hell he would ever— “He has been investigating for years. He was the one that said you were the last man Allegra saw—”

“How many years ago?” Taeyong asks, and just as she’s about to open her lips, he says: “Not that I know any Allegra, and I may have one-night stands from time to time, but I know one thing…and that’s that I learn the names of the women I’m with. I have never slept or dated with a woman named Allegra.”

And it’s an odd probability that she actually used her real name with him. Her name was Allegra, as if her past never existed, and she knew the reason why she would never follow after her past, either. That’s why they connected as friends.

“Almost two years ago.”

“I was dating a model two years ago. Kind of public, if you ask me. You can find the pictures online.” Taeyong replies, as if it’s that fucking common to date a model. His arms cross over his chest, licking the inside of his cheek. “So…you didn’t try to kill me?”

“Tori was the one with the idea.” She replies, head filled with thoughts. “…And he was the one that told you I wanted to kill you?”

“Yes.”

Tori is up to something.

The man that she trusts the most has stabbed her in the back.

Just as she’s about to say something else, the sound of the door opening captures her attention. This time, the person opening it doesn’t take the time to not be audible. They barge in, showcasing their buff body, as a woman points a rifle directly at Taeyong’s head.

Something is so wrong about this.

Before she knows it, she lowers Taeyong to the ground, the gunshot ringing through their ear drums when his eyes widen.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, not again—”

“I need you to trust me, okay?” She speaks, rather quickly, standing up as she places Taeyong right in front of her, taking the unused gun in her coat out to aimlessly throw some bullets. Truth is, she doesn’t use a gun often, but Jinhee reassures that she needs to. If strippers need them, so does the owner of this entire place.

“Where do we—?”

Before he could continue speaking, she opens the door of the office, jotting down the code and closing the door behind her. “She shouldn’t get in. She doesn’t know the code—”

“Tori gave me the code.” Taeyong speaks too quickly, going over to the desk to hide underneath it. “If Tori is the one behind this, he probably gave her the code too.”

“Shit.” She curses, thanking Allegra for teaching her the way through the office and her lack of trust for keeping her lips sealed. She opens the strongbox, getting inside of it in a crouched position before pressing her fingers against the touching pad at the very back.

“Hey, don’t leave me alone here.” Taeyong rushes behind her, only to have her tugging at his forearm to bring him with her.

“Take a deep breath and close the door. I’ve never used this getaway.”

With that, Taeyong follows her instructions, closing the strongbox’s door to be left in absolute blackness. Only when she opens the hidden door does the light come back to them, closing that small door behind them.

###

“Taeyong, will you just please move your ass?”

Ironic, given that Taeyong is just crawling through an underground passage, with last night’s one-night stand’s ass right in front of his face, as the distant sound of someone rummaging through the office like a maniac leaves his ears ringing.

“I—I am…” He breathes out, trying to get used to the closed-up space and concentrate on the peak of light he can see, well, between her legs? God, no one would ever believe him if he were to say this story out loud. “I just, I, um, I don’t know what just happened. That’s all.”

“This passage leads to an alleyway. We’ll smell like trash once we’re out, but we’ll be safe.” She breathes out, hands clinging onto the dusted walls around them before huffing. “Well, as safe as I can keep you…”

“I still can’t believe you trusted that Tori guy about me being a murderer.”

“I don’t keep up with sports, Taeyong.” She says, moving up to jot some numbers onto another notepad and much to his delight, the railings that keep them away from the alleyway open at her ministrations. He would have never thought these holes on the ground really existed. “But something about boxers, who have all the force in the world and get paid for it, murdering a woman in a passionate crime didn’t sound so impossible to me. Only because I have a sense of guilt and I’m not a murderer, did I decide to save you.”

“I’m not a violent guy. Just because I’m a boxer doesn’t mean you get to judge me—”

His ramblings are cut short when she turns around to look at him, both of their bodies extended underneath the opening, trying to reach it, but unable to. “Taeyong,” Her chest molds against his, looking completely different than she did when they met. Dress forgotten, she is cladded in all black, not a curve in sight from the oversized nature of her clothing. “Read the room and help me up so I can get us out of here.”

His hands wrap around her waist, as used as he was to it last night, but now cladding him in embarrassment. He does as she says, watching her arms expand on each side of the railing until she was out. Seated on the concrete and pulling her legs away, she extends her hand towards him.

“Up and at them. They’re going to catch up with us soon.”

He didn’t know what he expected when he was hoisted up, but it definitely wasn’t not to close this chapter of his life and continuing with this runaway stance. He coughs out the dirt that clung to his lungs, hearing her close the railings as he inspects the alleyway. It seems to be in the same neighborhood, but it’s so narrow and surrounded by trash that it looks inhabitable.

Shit, it is. The only reason why he would imagine someone would come in here was because they weren’t up to no good.

“What do you mean they’re going to catch up with us?” He asks, unaware of the way her fingers hook around his, dragging him away from the scenery and towards the street.

“Blend with people.” She instructs, pulling him along with her as she loses them in between masses of people. “If Tori is behind this, which I’m guessing he has something to do with this whole mess, he will know where to find me and he will discover the passage and where it leads to. This neighborhood has too many gangs, and it’ll only take a handful of money to have us both killed.”

“You have a…” Taeyong trails, patting the pocket of her coat where he saw her put her gun last. “Isn’t that supposed to protect us?”

“I’m not talking pistols, Taeyong. I’m talking rifles, grenades, knives, you name it, they have it.” It seems as though she doesn’t care about people hearing her speak about this. Or maybe, this is far more normal in this side of town than he had expected.

The rich only bring more issues into this world.

“And what are we going to do?”

“I’ll keep you safe for a few hours while you contact your team and we figure out what is going on. Once you’re with your team and I’m sure no one is following you. I will go have a talk with Tori.”

He may not be part of this world—and he’s starting to doubt she knows much more than running away—, but that doesn’t sound like an equation to success. “That’ll get you killed.”

She shrugs. “An eye for an eye.” She tells, turning around the corner and sighing deeply. Her hand extends towards a cab, calling it over in the crowded city. “I almost got you killed,” The sun rakes down on her face when she opens the door of the taxi. “So, you can expect me to almost get killed, too. Let’s just hope I survive it.”

Taeyong enters the car right behind her, looking around the windows with suspicion. Even the man at the front, old and with a long beard, keeps him on the edge. “Oh, a couple!” The taxi driver says, unexpectedly chatty. “I haven’t had one of those in a while.”

“Yeah.” She smiles, charming when she wants to, pulling her beanie up her head. The next thing she does is tell the man an address, leaning back on her seat for some seconds of silence. “I know you don’t trust me, Taeyong.” And he doesn’t, but the way she looks at him tells him that she is trying her best. “But I’ll do anything to protect you. No one deserves to die and definitely not for my actions, but there is a reason why Tori is targeting you…and if you’re not involved with any of his businesses, we have to find out why you’re the target.” Her whisper is delicate, but it sends a shiver down her spine.

He has to trust her. He has no other choice.

###

Sometimes, we have a wound. This wound, caused by another person, closes up after endless prodding. In her case, her wound was caused by Daniel. They were so happy once, enchanted enough for her to end up on the streets after he stole from her and glad enough for him to buy the apartment that they kicked her out of once she was working in The Jungle. He was a thinker, and a coward too, and while happiness could have been the end of their story, it wasn’t.

But it’s the only person she knows in her life that doesn’t come from The Jungle and that lives in a place where no one would ever find. Her little secret, she would say, and now she has to pierce through that wound that she had let heal only to keep Taeyong safe.

The muddy hallways were not ones she missed, filled with gossiping neighbors and endless music. So much that it thumps against her eardrums and it irks her endlessly. Either way, she moves up the woodened staircase, hearing each creak and letting it bleed through her. Daniel, when was the last time she saw him? Over five years ago, that’s for sure, maybe through the street or grabbing a drink.

“Where are we going?” Taeyong asks, moving over to her side as he still inspects everything. She can tell he’s thinking they are being followed, and who knows? They might.

“To my ex’s place.” She says, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s the only place Tori doesn’t know about, because I never liked talking about him. If they’re looking for us, they definitely won’t look here.”

Taeyong hums, nibbling on his nails as he ponders. “He must be a nice man. Your…ex…for letting you crash at his place just like that.”

She chuckles, standing upright in front of apartment 204. That’s where they moved in together after high school. “He’s not the worst man I have ever met in my life, but he stole all my money and left me in the streets so…he’s up there.” Without giving Taeyong the time to answer, she knocks on his door, licking her lips in the process. “Let’s just hope he feels some remorse and decides to help me for what he did to me.”

“We don’t have to do this.” Taeyong argues, only to have her shaking her head.

“We do, Taeyong.” Once again, she knocks. “We need to hide for a few hours. Not too little, not too long. They won’t find us here.”

“I don’t want to put you through that—”

The door opens then, and when she looks up at her much taller ex-boyfriend, she realizes she didn’t miss him one bit.

The enigma of Daniel was the fact that he was always a bit on the bad side. It’s like she saw shards of glass on the floor and she swore on her life she could put them back together. She swore it didn’t mean a thing when every single penny he earned went to the drinks he shared with his friends. She swore that he loved her, with all his being, with the way he wrapped his lips around a cigarette and kissed it as if it was her…

But now that she looks at the mirror of his dark eyes, clouded, she realizes that her being by his side was only a condemn. A doom. He was slowly and absentmindedly dragging her to be exactly like him, leaving habits within his wake. He was the one that taught her how to smoke, and she’s not sure she’ll ever drop her box of cigarettes without, at least, taking a drag.

He practically purrs out her name, his slim frame covered in a gray t-shirt and jeans. He crosses one leg over the other when he leans against the doorframe, bringing his cigarette up to his thick and dried lips, his short nose letting out some of the smoke when he blurts it out. “Thought I’d never see you at my doorstep again.”

“I never needed to.” She replies, eager to call him out—to take that smirk off his face, but Daniel is smart. Wicked intelligent, at that. He knows the only reason why she would ever be there is because she needs him. “…But now I need a place to stay with. With…my friend.”

The brown strands of his long hair curl around his face, chuckling. “Why’s that?”

She rolls her eyes. “Can’t we talk inside, Daniel?”

He hums. “Of course, but you never called me Daniel.” He opens the door wider then, taking another drag of nicotine as he moves inside. He doesn’t care giving his back to people, definitely someone who doesn’t have enemies surrounding him. God, she’s one of them. “It always Dany, Dany, Dany.” He repeats, putting the cigarette down on the coffee table, tapping the ashes before taking another drag. “In different occasions, too. Different tones, tempos, you were always very—”

She knows what he is doing. If there was one thing that was brittle in Daniel’s body was his ego. He saw another potential love affair, even when he had cheated on her a bunch of times probably, and he was already thinking of the past. “Very stupid. If you liked it when I called you ‘Dany’, you would have never stolen from me on the first place.” She puts her beanie down on the coffee table, pointing at one of the sofas to Taeyong. “We’ll crash here for a few hours. Some fucker is following me and trying to kill us and I need to keep him safe. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t, sugar.” The sarcasm in his voice is ever present, his tired and bag-filled eyes roaming over her face. “But I thought you’d, at least, have the decency to introduce me to one of the most well-known boxers of our time.”

“You know I don’t care about sports.” She repeats, something that she had told Taeyong already, and the man stares in between them as he sits down on the sofa. Awkward. Definitely uncomfortable.

“I—I’m Lee Taeyong.” He says, extending his hand for Daniel to take.

“I’m Daniel Kim.” He finalizes, shaking his hand. “Though, you probably heard wonders about me.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Daniel, I’m not here for your bullshit.”

“Right.” Finally, the flame of his cigarette dies down when he stomps on it with his foot, standing up from the flowery sofa and moving over to her. This place is as tainted as she remembers it, smelling like cardboard and humidity. “You’re here for protection and I’m here to prepare lunch and shut my pretty little mouth, ain’t it?”

She hums. “First correct thing you’ve said.”

Daniel chuckles, all teeth when he reaches for his box of cigarettes on the coffee table. Another one? It wouldn’t surprise her. “I’ve always managed to know what you wanted.” And that was one of the reasons why she always stayed. His wit played to his favor. Daniel could read her like a book, and she would always be surprised by his skills. His fingers press the cigarette stick to her mouth, and she complies by opening it, watching him as he lights it up before he turns to Taeyong. “Big fan of your work, man.”

He doesn’t seem to be utterly pleased to be where he is, and she doesn’t blame him. She put him in an unnecessary position. “Thanks. Can’t say the same thing about you.”

“Someone stole the Mona Lisa; I stole some money. Different stories for different folks, similar outcome.” Daniel shrugs, moving over to the kitchen and closing the white door behind him, leaving them in solitude when Taeyong scoffs.

“You really fell in love for that?”

“I was young and stupid.” She finalizes, taking the old landline by the kitchen door in between her fingers before putting the device up to her ear.

Taeyong stands up at that, as if knowing she wants him to call someone, when he says: “I imagine you did better after. As in, looked for better men.”

“I didn’t date anyone else after him. Well, went on some dates, like two.” She replies, not ashamed of her lack of experience, and giving the landline to him. “But…” Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she pulls the cigarette away from her lips to talk to him. “I did do better.”

“When?” Taeyong asks, pressing some numbers down with his slim fingers.

With you. Last night. She wants to tell him those words, but it’s useless. It could have easily been a simple one-night stand, perhaps a date after, but she had to fuck it up. “With someone. I—I shouldn’t really be talking about this.”

She puts her cigarette down, realizing exactly where she is, who she has always been. How could she even think their stories would have intertwined had it not been for Tori?

“Call your people. Whoever you trust and ask them where we can meet up. I’ll drop you off with Daniel’s car and then, I’ll see myself out of your life. You’ll never hear from me again and I can promise no one will bother you again.”

She turns her back to him. It’s the right thing to do. Instead, she turns off that old, raunchy television and sits down in front of it, trying to concentrate on something else.

###

By the time she plans to get out of Daniel’s place, it’s already eight at night. The sun has disappeared and her conversation with Taeyong has died down. Trivial things to keep themselves entertained and away from Daniel, who has embarked in one or two words about boxing with Taeyong.

Tori. Shit, she can’t keep Tori’s name away from her head. It’s second nature for her to correlate Tori with Allegra when they were together when Allegra had taken her in like a little sister. Tori had been the one to serve her meals, protect her from freaks when she was a bartender, and the one that taught her how to use a gun. Sure, he was always threaded in the world of organized crime, but she would have never imagined he’d kill for fun. Period.

But Taeyong could not lie to her. Something about him tells her that he is absolutely innocent. Maybe, it’s the confusion at hearing gunshots or the fact that nothing about him exudes malice, but the punches on Allegra’s corpse could have come from something else. Anyone with strength who hit on a dead body, that’s for sure.

Dongyoung, now that she knows is Taeyong’s publicist, had practically ripped her head off through the phone when Taeyong put her on it and told him everything. He was on the verge of calling the police, too, but that would only get her to jail and give unnecessary publicity to his team, just weeks away from the big fight. That’s the reason why she insisted on having him find a place for them to stay. A mansion not too far away from here was rented only this afternoon, and Taeyong would be moving in the matter of seconds.

She just needs to take him there and for that, she needs to get Daniel’s car.

“If he gets funny with you or asks you for something in return for the car, don’t do it.” Taeyong tells her once he sees her stand up, and she smiles when she looks at him from over his shoulder.

“I’ve taken care of myself plenty, Taeyong. You can land some good punches, but I think I can give a good bitch slap.” She replies, walking over to the kitchen with certain steps. “We should be out of here in ten minutes. Sit tight.”

The sizzling of vegetables comes from the pan in front of Daniel. Everything in the kitchen looks so small next to him, from the salt he pours on the pan to the pan on itself. He has changed clothing, taken a shower, and even when he’s cooking, a cigarette is in between his lips. Talk about hygiene.

“Daniel, I need you to lend me your car. I promise to return it…but tomorrow.” She starts, walking over to the white counter only to see Daniel hollow his cheeks, the ones she had once sprinkled with kisses, before taking his cigarette out.

As always, he speaks in between a cloud of smoke. “You can have it,” He says. “But I was thinking you guys could stay for dinner, too.”

She scoffs at that. “Sorry, man. I’m not sure I’m feeling like eating cigarette salad.”

Daniel chuckles at those words, shaking his head. “We used to share the same cigs and now you’re out here judging me for cooking while I smoke?” He asks, looking down at her as a smile takes over his features. She doesn’t feel a thing anymore, rapid on getting out of there. “Which reminds me, you really used to like it when I smoked as we had s—”

Stupid decisions made by even stupider, younger minds. She can’t even believe she fell in love with a foul mouthed, rampant mess like Daniel Kim. “Okay, the car keys. I’m out of here and looking for Tori—”

“That’s all I needed,” He leans his weight forward, looking into her eyes. “There’s something going on with Taeyong, I can feel it.”

“Oh, not this shit—” She mumbles, rolling her eyes. “If there was something with Taeyong, it’s none of your concern, Daniel. Get it through your head.”

“That’s a yes.” Daniel finalizes, licking the inside of his cheek before looking down at his stirred vegetables. “Damn, here I was thinking all highly about myself.”

“Your time passed long ago.” She tells him, watching him rummage through the cabinet of the counter before tossing the car keys at her.

“I can tell.” Wrapping his lips around the cigarette, he blurts out some words with the smoke. “One more thing—”

“I don’t have the time…”

“Is the man you’re looking for, that Tori guy, tall, with brown hair and always wears suits? Kind of tan…”

She frowns deeply. Daniel is not the kind of person to be around people of importance like this. “Yes. Why? Do you know him?”

“Don’t go wherever you’re thinking you can find him. He’s always accompanied.” He instructs, moving the vegetables around with his spoon. “I frequent this…brothel that he goes to. It’s the only place you can find him alone. He can’t go a week without a blowjob so I’m sure he’ll be there.” He takes a piece of napkin, jotting down the address before giving it to her.

Her stomach revolts against itself. “A brothel? Christ, Daniel, where has your life gone to?”

He clears his throat. “Turns out there are not a lot of women who would cope with me quite like you did…so, if I want to have sex, I have to pay for it.” It doesn’t surprise her one bit, but Tori? She couldn’t even imagine it.

“Thanks.” She dangles the keys he tossed at her before sprinting towards the door. Though, once she opens it, she comes face to face with Taeyong.

He looks like a deer caught in the headlights, blinking rapidly even when she tells him to start moving, walking out of the apartment with the man trailing after her steps.

“You’re not thinking of going to a brothel alone, are you?”

“Yes.” She replies, creaking stairs carrying her weight as she goes down. “I have to talk to him and see what the fuck happened.”

“He’ll kill you.” It’s hard for her to believe Tori would do such thing, so she shrugs.

“I’ll go in a two to three days just in case.” She pushes the address inside the pocket of her coat, next to her gun. “For the time being, I’ll stay at a motel and keep on the downlow. It should be fine. You’re going to your mansion with your bodyguards, I’m staying here—”

Taeyong shakes his head, taking her by the shoulders and shaking her slightly as he walks behind her, that doesn’t halter her steps. “Listen to yourself!”

“I’m listening, Taeyong. It’s a brothel.”

“It’s not the place only, it’s where you’re going and with who.”

“Alone.” She finalizes when they are by the entrance door of the apartment complex. “I should have never stopped being alone, that’s just how it is. It’s better off if I just—”

“Throw yourself to the mouth of the tiger, let yourself get chewed up and then, killed? You stand no chances.”

Trying to mask her concerns with vividness, she laughs, pushing the door open and clicking on the keys to see Daniel’s car come to life. “What are you talking about, Yong? You don’t know me—”

“I just know that if you were…if you were really like him, you wouldn’t have taken the bullets out. You spared my life even when I could have possibly been your friend’s killer and you continue to save me even if that means losing your entire casino. You left the place alone just to run away with me!” The breeze swirls against her clothing when she opens the passenger door, but before she could get inside the black, old car, Taeyong spits out some words that she would have never expected from him. “If you’re going to that brothel, I’m going with you.”

That is what does it, targeting at her patience and he has good aim. “You are not, Taeyong, end of story, get in that car and fuck off.”

While he does what she says, he can’t stop arguing: “So, what do you expect me to do?” Like a good citizen, he puts on his seatbelt, resting his palms on his knees. “I go to sleep each night for the next few days thinking about the fact that I left you to go alone on your own to some brothel, to get a guy who obviously has a team with him, and that you are going to die, most likely?”

She starts the car then, sighing deeply as she unparks it. “I know how to deal with Tori,” There can’t be all falseness in his personality. There must be a cause to all this. “Just leave it to me. If something happens, you don’t have to worry about it.”

“You’re a human being. Of course, I should worry—” Taeyong continues. Once his buttons are pushed, he can’t shut up, but the pushed pout on his lower lip has him looking far more innocent than he intends. “You don’t know how to deal with him. I’m certain he’s the bad guy—”

Sure, he may be right. “But we are all bad guys, Taeyong. I invite people in each night knowing the business that goes down in my establishment.” She pushes him away. He needs to get his head out of this business. “I—I robbed you, Taeyong. I’m a bad guy, too.”

He looks over to the side of the windows, surprising her when he leans over to her side, his breath fanning on her face when his palm gets lost in the pocket of her coat.

“Taeyong, just fuck off!”

“I need to know where you’re going, at least.” He spits out, and she is unable to take the piece of napkin away from his fingertips.

“You’re not going there.”

“I just—”

“Taeyong, I don’t want you to die. I don’t need you to.” Losing her temper, she concludes. “You don’t know what it’s like. Even if you go there and even if I do get killed, you don’t know how people like these react. They won’t only get you. They will get your staff, your friends, your family…you have no option but to follow after my advice. Stay out of it.”

He doesn’t utter a single word from then on, giving her the piece of napkin after reading over it. The silence settles in a way that has her opening her mouth a few times, trying to come up with something to say, but she’s left with nothing more than a goodbye when she reaches that mansion of his. Newest, fresh out of the market, and safe.

That’s all that matters.

###

The key to life is knowing how to nag. Outing opinions in common manners, though sometimes obstinate, is a talent, truthfully. But Dongyoung has something against his favor—he does not only have the key, he has the goddamned lock, the door itself. Nagging is his passion, his job, his talent, his characterization. It’s his everything, and Taeyong isn’t having it.

The black satin sheets rest on each side of his body, fresh out the shower after spending an entire day in that mansion. Goosebumps rise on his skin at his lack of shirt, looking up at the ceiling as he tries to concentrate on something. Anything other than her. When he was practicing in his own personal gym, early in the morning, with Soonhwan by his side worried out of his ass, he could only think that she’s out there, a target, looking to get killed and he knows that something bad with happen.

His hand rests behind his head when he watches, once again, that Dongyoung moves back and forth in the spacious new room he just bought. “What exactly were you thinking, Taeyong?” He asks, sighing deeply when he runs his fingers through his hair.

“Easy.” Taeyong whispers. “I wasn’t.”

This makes Dongyoung stop on his tracks, but Taeyong doesn’t see what he does. Looking at the ceiling is far more interesting, confirmed. “Oh, and that’s supposed to make me feel at ease? You’re lucky no one saw you. Not only did you sleep with a complete stranger, but you went to a hotel with her, almost got killed, decided to go with her to some raunchy apartment and now you can’t go anywhere without a bodyguard.” He says, anger flaring in each portion of his words. “Just to fuck a hole—”

“Yes, just to fuck. What’s the issue?” Taeyong sits up at that, rubbing the damp strands of his blonde hair that cast down his forehead. “I had sex with someone, but that’s the last thing on my list of worries. She could get killed at any second—”

“And that’s none of your business.” Dongyoung finalizes for him. “She tried to kill you, too.”

Truth is, Taeyong knows that he doesn’t trust her entirely. There will always be that nagging voice inside his head…but he can also see the factual matters on his hands. She saved his life, not once but twice. And even three times. She decided to go to that damned brothel whenever the hell she pleased without taking a ‘but’ for an answer.

“She’s the reason why I’m here.” Taeyong finalizes, standing up from his bed before walking over to the mini-refrigerator in his room. He really needs a snack. “And I’m sorry for worrying about someone who basically just threw herself to a bunch of people who want to kill her.”

“You can only care about yourself, Taeyong.”

He sighs deeply, head lulling forward to rummage through the refrigerator. There, he sees a granola bar. That should do it. “I know,” He starts. “That’s what I should do, but it…I don’t know, maybe you don’t see it this way, Dongyoung, but when I have sex with someone, is because I feel a connection.”

Dongyoung raises his eyebrows. “Oh, my God—”

“What?”

“Taeyong.” Once he has stood up, his publicist takes him by the cheeks, looking into his eyes as he tries to clear his mind. “Everything is a connection when your dick is hard. That’s just how it is. Have you ever thought about anything while having sex? No. That’s because sex is not a thinking process. It wasn’t that deep.”

“Maybe, you’re right.” He says, opening the granola bar and taking a bite. “But,” He swallows, aware of how awful his voice sounds when in the midst of eating. “You just weren’t there. She could have left my ass after I cursed her over and over again, but she didn’t. That takes responsibility.”

Dongyoung lets go of him, shrugging. “So?”

“So what?”

“You’re going to a brothel, where everyone is going to recognize you and just…save her?”

Taeyong shakes his head, deep in thoughts as he munches on the snack. “I just have to figure out what is going on first. Before she does.”

That has Dongyoung cackling. “Good luck with that.” He says, picking up his phone and looking through his contacts. “For the time being, I’ll actually do my job, as you should and try to keep everything you just did under control and for fuck’s sake, if you tell me one more time that you had a connection with someone when having sex with them, I’ll be the one to cut off your balls before they get us in any more trouble.”

Sounds like business in the way Dongyoung speaks and on the rare occasion, Taeyong would have listened to his words. He knows how difficult it is to keep a career like this but…

He doesn’t listen now.

###

Smiles and waves make less mistakes, but they aren’t any truer when in front of cameras. Interviews are exactly his thing—Taeyong has rehearsed to speak in front of the public and being liked comes inherently to him. Though, ESPN had no idea just what kind of week he had when they invited him over to watch over some fights and give his commentary.

It’s good publicity and Dongyoung is practically at the verge of his seat in happiness. He only wants the best for him, Taeyong can acknowledge that, but his mind weights with the possibilities of having lost her. As in, physically, she was never his to start with. Five days have passed since the last time he saw her and if she had gone to that fucking brothel, it had already happened. For some reason, he tries to tell himself that she’s dead already; that he really, sincerely, wholeheartedly, and all words with ‘ly’ terminations should not give a fuck.

But he does.

The glide of boxing gloves and the mixture of groans fill the dense air as people cheer for the heavyweights fighting on the ring. He respects them, and would have waited to take pictures with them, bathed in blood, putting all their will into it had he not seen someone jump up from his seat to scream directly at the boxers.

It’s not the person per say that catches his attention, but who is by his side. The man screaming, void of any embarrassment, filled with vanity is none other than Eiji, his rival. Tall, with a permanent frown on his features and a long face, his black hair sleeked back with plenty of gel to show his thick eyebrows, reddened eyes, long nose and thin lips.

Women went crazy for the bad boy persona Eiji had within him, but Taeyong knows better. The man likes blood, loves the collide of his knuckles against some flesh. Eiji has the world wrapped around his finger, gets what he wants when he wants it, but he would have never thought he’d be accompanied by someone like Tori.

That Tori.

The man that almost shot him.

If the commenters know something, they don’t tell, because Taeyong rolls down his seat the slightest, munching on his fingernails out of fear. God fucking damn it, that’s a reason! Eiji hates his guts, would kill him if he had the chance, had been asking to fight with him for months but he had denied it time and time again. Who blames him? Taeyong fears the guy, that’s all he knows, but he would have never thought he’d ask—

Wait. Pause.

Taeyong tugs at Dongyoung’s sleeve, pushing his mouth to his ear when he whispers: “The man next to Eiji was the man that tried to kill me.”

Dongyoung may be too lost in the fight or in the music, because he turns to him and screams: “What did you just say?”

Sighing, the boxer repeats: “That’s Tori, the man that tried to kill me. Maybe, they weren’t going after her, they were going after me.” It makes more sense now. Tori had lied to her to help him kill him because he couldn’t have any possible straight connection to Taeyong, or couldn’t get a hold of him, so in order to avoid any extra work from him, he had asked her to join him with the excuse of doing justice. Then, she had acted upon rationality, thrown off the bullets and called it a day. Had she not done that, he wouldn’t be here…

But the issue was never with her. She’s in more danger because she saved him.

And she definitely doesn’t have any bodyguards with her, like Taeyong does…so…

It’s a matter of time before they get her, if they haven’t already.

Taeyong could assume that said statement was the case, but he couldn’t help but think she was still out there, in danger.

“Let me call the bodyguards—”

Dongyoung tries to take matters into his hands, but Taeyong stands up. “No man, we’re going to that brothel and you’re helping me get her. That’s what we’re doing.”

His publicist shakes his head widely. “Taeyong, no—”

“They were looking for me, dumbass, they weren’t looking for her. I need to…I need to make sure she’s okay.” Before Dongyoung could say anything else, he turns to the commenters, lowering his face to the two older men to speak over the bustling noises. “I’m sorry, but something came up right now, I have to go. It was a pleasure working with you.”

“Come around any other time, Taeyong!”

“You’ve got it.” When he tugs at Dongyoung sleeves, walking through the rows of people, he hears his publicist huffing.

“Do you really expect me to get inside a brothel just to look for—?”

“Yes. We have to. You can call all the bodyguards you want, but we’re going.”

Though, he swallows the fear at the pit of his stomach. It’s only a matter of time before they get to him…or even worse, Eiji could kill him on the ring himself.

### 

Hips, the place Daniel talked about is called, and while it’s covered from the police as a ‘strip-club’, she knew that it wasn’t the moment she entered three days ago.

Everyone who would look at her from afar, workers or just costumers, would think that she is, perhaps, obsessed with sex. Or that, for some reason, she was a watcher that enjoyed a few drinks, getting a glimpse of some men and women, and then she was off and away from this kind of world. A coward who couldn’t get the job done, but was just on the brink of trying it. They couldn’t be more wrong, even though she has gotten used to the place, green and violet neon lights casting down on the black room the moment she enters. I.D checked, money given, everything is under control.

And definitely, Tori has been nowhere in sight. Daniel could have confused him with anyone else named Tori, maybe someone whose real name was, indeed, Tori but she keeps trying. It’s the only clue she has left to earn the casino back. Last time she tried to enter, yesterday afternoon, bullets pierced through the armored car. Tori has fucking stolen her place, and she can’t get it back.

Not yet, at least, she has to make mends with him and sign a contract or something. She gives him what he wants, he leaves her the fuck alone.

Friends are not to be trusted. No one is, really, but when she pushes through the seas of people, women clinging onto half-naked men and men throwing money as if they were the owners of this place, she feels like she has a plan. It comes in the shape of the man that stands under the blinking, violet neon sign that reads ‘sexy boys in your area’.

Oh, cringe.

But he’s smiling at her as he nears her, taut abdomen contracting, sweet smile and innocent features changed by the darkness of his eyes, as nightly as the black strands of his hair that damply fall on his forehead when he stands in front of her.

How he isn’t sweating buckets with those leather pants? She has no clue.

“I’ve seen you around.” The sex worker says, voice soft like a blanket, extending his hand forward and she shakes it, earning sweet laughter from him. What? Was he expecting her to hold his hand or something? “I would think you really can’t be sedated, but…I think it’s pretty obvious you’re looking for someone.”

Well, pretty boy is intelligent, at least. “I am.”

“Is it your partner?” He asks, his plush lips wrapping around a softer smile. “We get plenty of husband and wives trying to mend their marriages, but it always falls down when they catch them here. If they haven’t come around, I could check the books to see if they are a regular.”

He’s not her husband. Or her boyfriend. God forbid she ever laid a finger on Tori, and the thought alone makes her want to barf, but whoever this stripper is, with love bites scattered across his neck and legs that seem to last for miles, tries to help her the best he can. “What’s your name?”

He chuckles, leaning his weight onto the wall next to her. “We don’t use real names here. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.” She mumbles, looking through the pocket of her dark denim jacket for her box of cigarettes. She lights one up at the same time that the extremely handsome worker breathes out his nickname.

Or his work-name, really. She has one of those. Jinhee does, as well. She never heard Tori’s real name.

“Woo.” Melodic voice breathing out, in what she supposes is an empathic tone, he continues his speech. “I can tell you what you need to know if you book an appointment with me.”

She quirks an eyebrow, embarrassment engulfing her. “I—I have never…”

“You don’t have to, well, we don’t have to do anything.” Woo conceptualizes, pointing in between the two of them. “I’ll take you to by assigned room, but I’ll only answer your questions.”

“How much?” She asks, lurking for her wallet to get her card out.

“Two hundred the hour.”

She has never done the walk of shame. Not even with Taeyong, but it feels like one when she pays for an hour with Woo. The man doesn’t even put on a shirt, smiling at some of the people scattered around the brothel before he opens the dark velvety door. When it closes behind them, does he actually light up the room in its soft light, a white bed in the middle of a champagne room accompanied by burning red cushions.

He goes over to the mini-bar at the corner, serving himself a cup of whiskey as he speaks. Shit, he really doesn’t look like he belongs here. He could potentially be an actor if he wanted to, one of those pretty ones in romantic comedies.

“So, what do you want to know?” Woo asks, leaning his slim frame against the mini-bar as he sips on the honey-colored whiskey.

She takes a seat on the bed, with her back properly straight, blinking at him. “Ah…” Awkwardness follows her movements, but she shakes her head. This is not the time to be embarrassed for being in a brothel. “He goes by the name Tori. He’s an associate at The Jungle, my casino. I want to know who he is working with and he’s a constant costumer around here—”

“Oh yes, he is.” Woo accepts, licking his plush lips. “One of my friends, Ice, she is the one that is usually hired by him. He’s an absolute freak…” He trails his voice, deep in thought. A tint of red washes over his face, as if somehow touched by awkwardness for what he is about to say. Definitely a paradox for a sex worker. “And loud, too. Super loud. He asks Ice to tie him up to the ceiling and—”

Her hands come up to her ears before he can continue with that mentally scarring image of Tori. Shit. “No, no, no, I want to know who he works with. That’s all.”

Woo chuckles at her antics, soft and tranquil, before he walks over to the bed. He sits next to it, laying his cheek on the mattress as he speaks. He keeps his distance, respectful of her desires above all. “I know he is part of some organized crimes. He works with a lot of people.” He says. “He brings them over here sometimes. I’ve slept with some of them.”

That’s a start. “And who is his leader?”

“I don’t hold that kind of information.” Woo utters, shrugging. “I know they go by the name ‘The Redemption’, but I’m not quite sure who is their leader. I could guess if I saw them, but I don’t know his name—”

Screams and bustle fill the air around the brothel outside, but she doesn’t pay attention to it. “Are you sure—?”

“Sir, you can’t go in there!”

“I need to get her out of here and I promise I’ll leave.”

“She’s getting services—”

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before! Just let me in!”

The door opens in the blink of an eye and though she hasn’t spoken to him much, she saw him take Taeyong in when she dropped him off at his mansion. Kim Dongyoung is right in front of her, blinking rapidly with a frown on his features as he points his thumb outside the door.

“We need to go now. You’re not safe here.”

She stands up at those words, frowning back at him. “Dongyoung? What are you doing here?”

“I said we need to go. My…represented person is waiting for you.”

She tries to stifle her laugh. He’s really not trying to say Taeyong’s name.

“We’ll, that’s the end.” Woo finalizes, splaying himself on the bed for one second before taking another sip of his drink. He speaks to the organizer in the brothel. “Tell me when I’ll have a real client.”

“Thank you—!” She can’t say much to Woo as Dongyoung is tugging at the sleeve of her jacket, dragging her along with him as he speaks, albeit raggedly.

“I can’t believe Taeyong is saving your ass when you’re not even helping anyone. You’re out here, sleeping with someone, while he’s in danger.”

She scoffs at his words. “I wasn’t sleeping with anyone.” She defends herself. “Woo is a worker here and he offered to give me information if I paid him for the hour.”

“Yeah, whatever.” The security guard opens the door for Dongyoung, two bodyguards standing in front of the black wagon that probably had Taeyong inside. The man turns around, hair whisked by the wind as he talks to her. “I don’t care what you’re doing, I care what happens to him…because he’s my friend, and you dare get him killed or break his heart, and I’ll go after you.”

With the certainty she has had to use when being put in front of a business, she hums. “You can bet on that. I would never hurt Taeyong.”

Dongyoung nods at her words. “Then, get in the wagon. He has something to tell you.”

###

A border of silence separates them in the tinted wagon, driving through the streets thanks to the chauffeur. Even Dongyoung, who had been an avid supporter of getting his hands out of this mess, remained silent after she and Taeyong had put all the cards on the table. He’s not good at poker, but he is good at bringing the pieces of this puzzle together. Taeyong is a rational thinker, while she’s more of an act.

Eiji Watanabe, a professional boxer, up and against Taeyong, thirsty for blood and power. Tori, her former companion, who had done everything and anything to seem innocent in this situation, even to Taeyong. He must be following after her now, along with Taeyong, considering that she was the one that ruined his mission. But thinking of Eiji, at such a young age, as the leader of a group like The Redemption, a mafia or a gang whatsoever, is a little bit hard to believe.

He may be a connection, a rich kid in the way who manages to call the shots from time to time. It must be in his family, much like Tori’s family was involved in that kind of thing, from a higher hierarchy that Tori fearing what he could do, or following after his steps. Thus, she has to make Taeyong believe Eiji is not entirely the culprit behind this, but he is one of those spoiled rich men with power who decide that disliking someone is enough of a reason to murder.

She sighs, looking over to the side but she can’t see much from the city with those tinted windows. Not to say she doesn’t fear, but she has to say this: “I’ll go my own way. Stay out of your lane.” She concludes. Truth be told, she always thought death wasn’t going to come—she expected it, said she didn’t fear it, claimed life as more difficult than death, but now that it palpitates on her tongue, bleeds its taste onto the muscle, she can’t help but be frightened by the idea her eyes close and they stop working altogether, along with the rest of her body.

“Fucking finally.” Dongyoung says, lifting his hands in the air as if his prayers had been heard. “Can we call the police now, too?”

“Bad publicity, remember.” Taeyong replies to Dongyoung, folding the sleeves of his white button down up to his elbows before sighing deeply. Everything about him looks expensive now, and she can’t help but study his otherwise dulcet features bathed in worry. It should have never gone like this for him. “So, Eiji is trying to kill me…and Tori is trying to kill you.”

“Yes.” She adds, between a chuckle. “I shouldn’t have—It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t…if I hadn’t just seduced you—”

“But you did. I could have said no, too.” Taeyong explains, spreading his palm over his chest, right atop his heart. “I could’ve just not had a one-night stand, but I did. We did. And I can’t simply let you die because you think this is all your fault.”

“I knew what was going to happen. It is my fault.”

“We can’t point fingers between each other.” He says, finishing the sentence with her name. As egotistic as it sounds, she loves how he rolls the name off his tongue. “We’re dealing with something bigger here. You have to get your casino back and Tori was probably the one behind her death—”

She acknowledges that, but she can’t quite put all her worries on Taeyong. “For the same reason, I should leave. You don’t know how long it will take until I get my casino back.”

“Well, it will take however long has to take, but you will.” Even when he is trying to sound certain, she can see a bit of nervousness in his eyes, biting on his nail before huffing. “What I’m trying to say is that you can stay at my mansion, with bodyguards, with me until you figure it all out. He’s right behind you and I can’t live with the weight of knowing I let someone die.”

Dongyoung widens his eyes from his spot, straightening his back on the seat. “We never a—agreed to that.”

“Dongyoung…”

“I don’t want to be any trouble.” She says, but Taeyong leans forward, taking her hands in between his when he retaliates:

“You’re already enough trouble. I think I can get used to it.”

Her throat dries up at those words, thinking and pondering of her place, perhaps surrounded by workers of Tori and how she almost got killed at the casino. There is nowhere else to go, so she responds:

“Okay, I’ll stay with you for the time being, but I’ll protect you, as well. Consider me another bodyguard.”

“Shit.” Dongyoung says once he sees the two smiling at each other. “Am I painted on the wall or do you guys just decide not to listen to me?!”

###  

Awakening in Taeyong’s place tells her one thing: This is not a mansion, it’s a damned palace.

Now, now, owning a casino has given her enough to live a good life. Lavish, surely, but she has always been a bit uptight with money, but even as she gets out of the door that Taeyong had lent her, she gets a bit lost in between the gray walls and modern decorations. Everything pristinely put, as if scared of being touched, and she doesn’t even let her fingertips roam the walls properly while going down the set of stairs. Could’ve used the elevator, but she decided against feeling like the crazy, neat-freak scientist in murder movies today.

She gets to the kitchen, cladded in Taeyong’s sweatpants and a t-shirt that only now she realizes reads his nickname in boxing. It’s classical, a black t-shirt with an outline of him in white that reads “The New Boy”. Well, not so new anymore. Taeyong is on the verge of reaching the highest point of his career.

And she had to come and ruin it all.

Just as she’s reaching for the bottle of orange juice, she hears someone entering the kitchen. She stands up far too quickly, nerves on edge as she takes the Coca Cola bottle next to the orange juice, shakes it three times before she points it at the culprit in question.

Whom she sees is far different from what she imagined. Taeyong stands there, hair recently washed, his white t-shirt three times his size, lifting up his taut abdomen.

“Get close to me or I’ll…shoot…you…” Her voice grows weaker with the passage of time, staring at Taeyong with widened eyes before the man chuckles, lowering his hands altogether.

“With a Coca Cola bottle?”

She scoffs. “A shaken Coca Cola bottle. Whoever decided to attack me would have learned his lesson.”

“I can imagine, but don’t you have a gun?” Taeyong asks, running his fingers through his hair and keeping the hand there. Even at the peak of the morning, seven to be exact, he shines the brightest. Never had she seen a man hold so much beauty beneath him.

Her eyebrows raise at his statement. “I don’t point my gun around at everyone, you know?”

“Hard to believe.” The first thing he does is move the coffee machine out of its confines, the scent of fresh coffee beans taking over the kitchen. Shit. How long has it been since she has felt the smell of home? With fresh food, accompaniment, someone else’s perfume lingering in the air. “Either way,” He whispers, raising his voice the slightest to sound cute. Where were people like him in her part of the world? Where everything is wicked and broken. “I brewed you some coffee. Wasn’t sure if you’d like it, so I went all out with breakfast.” He opens the oven then, turned off, taking out the leftovers of what he had prepared. Still lukewarm. “Hot cakes,” He points to each thing he prepared. “With honey and cinnamon, spongey scrambled eggs and sliced avocado.”

“You didn’t have to—” But Taeyong is already settling the plate of food on the counter, and serving her a mug of coffee.

“There are sliced fruits in the fridge. I was going to pair them up with oatmeal, but I wasn’t sure if you’d like it.” He looks up then, placing the mug in between her fingers before rubbing the back of his neck. “Soonhwan tells me I’m an old man on the inside for liking oatmeal.”

She chuckles, taking a sip of what may compete with the best cafés in town. It’s not too sugary, with droplets of chocolate on its taste, dulcet but with some kind of spice that has her humming. “Oh my God—” She brings her hand up her mouth, savoring the taste. “You made this?”

“I like cooking. And coffee. I used to work at my grandma’s bakery when I was young.” Taeyong is rummaging through the cabinets, getting a fork and a knife out before moving towards the kitchen. “Let me look for the fruit so you can start eating—”

“Taeyong.” She calls out, voice clear as day. Her face is heated, perhaps with embarrassment. “I almost got you killed and you’re acting like a prince? You can’t do that.”

He lifts his head, half-covered by the fridge’s door, before he says: “This is called being an average roommate, who wants you to feel welcome and safe.”

She shakes her head, chuckling when he takes a plate of fruit out, placing another fork inside before he settles all meals on the kitchen island. Taking her mug with her, she takes a seat on the stool Taeyong has dragged for her. “No.” She concludes. “This is…this is madness, Taeyong. No one has ever treated me like this.”

Taeyong looks at her, raising his eyebrows for a brief second as he internalizes the words. Shit. She shouldn’t have opened her big mouth, so she tries to stifle it with some of the food he prepared for her.

“No one…has ever treated you well?” He asks, only to have her laughing, trying to cover it all.

“Taeyong, don’t listen to my stupid sad shit—”

“That’s not an answer.” But he is a prier, curious in his own way, and she has to sigh, biting down on her lip when she picks at the avocado.

Her life flashes in front of her. Happiness, then not. A smile, then a frown. It was never consistent. Never solid. Never planned or thought out. She wholeheartedly believed in high-highs and low-lows. “Life is more difficult for some people,” She says, slicing through the avocado and putting it inside her mouth. “And I just happened to never meet nice people to help me make life better.”

He wraps his hands around the edge of the island, sighing. “Then, why don’t you leave it?”

Curious, she tilts her head to the side, connecting her gaze with his. No longer are his eyes mirrors. They will never be for her, when she sees him as…as perfection itself. With some mistakes, sure, but far more simplistic than anything she had ever seen. “Leave what?”

“The Jungle.” He instructs, and she smiles at his words, shaking her head. “I’m serious. If it has only brought you stress, leave it. It’s not worth it. You could be a nice person—”

“Yong,” She interrupts, voice tiny, looking down at her hands before humming. “One day, you have your friend by your side and she’s drunk. She’s so drunk her eyes roll back and she’s laughing at everything she says, but something gets serious in her. So serious…that she can’t believe it herself. She says to you that the day she dies, she wants you to take charge of her place, her dream, the only thing she considered worth living for.” The images of Allegra fill her brain once again. Friendship was never the same; and for a reason. Tori betrayed her, and Allegra proved to be the only person she could trust in at the end. “…And then, you see her dead and her last breath is given in your arms. She’s fragile, broken, and…and she’s looking at you. She’s dead but her eyes are open and the only thing you can think of is that you want all her dreams to come true.” She lifts her gaze then, looking at him. “She saved me, but I never got to save her…and this is my only chance to prove that she was my realest friend.”

The doors to the kitchen swish open at that moment, a man with a husky voice, well above Taeyong’s age, says into the thin air: “Atta boy, we need to practice for—” His voice loses itself when she looks over her shoulder, connecting her gaze with whom she can only guess is Soonhwan. Old, with soft features, and a nose so crooked from so much fighting that it almost touches his cheek. “Oh, look at who we have here. Main character of the decade—”

“Soonhwan…” Taeyong threatens, voice low, though never scary. “Don’t become a Dongyoung, she’s…she has saved me enough times for me to pay back.”

“I’m not saying a thing.” Soonhwan says, running his fingers over his lips as if he was zipping his mouth up. “I’m just saying: Nice to meet you. I’ve heard…plenty from you. I don’t know what to believe for the moment, but we’ll figure it out.”

He’s candid, sincere, in the way he extends his hands and shakes hers. She can only bring herself to nod. “I’ll do my best to protect your boy.”

His eyes trail down to the logo on her shirt. “If only all fans spoke like you…” He trails, letting go of her hand to wrap his arm around Taeyong’s shoulder. The man shrinks like a boy being embarrassed in front of his crush by his old and jokester dad. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, not all of us are lucky enough to know how to use a gun and I have to prepare my boy for the fight.”

Taeyong sighs. “Yeah…”

“Seventeen days from now. We’re going strong for that fight.”

She continues to eat, shrugging her shoulders. “Suit yourselves. I’ll be here…thinking about dinner recipes and…how to make them and not fuck them up in the process.” She points at the plate with her fork. “This is too good to compete with, but if I’m staying here, we have to make an arrangement.”

“Arrangement?” Taeyong questions, confused.

“You make breakfast, I make dinner.”

Soonhwan whistles at that. “Well, I better start living here if that’s the case.”

“Soonhwan!” Taeyong nudges his side, earning breathy laughs from Soonhwan.

“Let’s go, kid. It’s getting late and we need to train.”

With that, he’s gone, leaving her with a trail of his scent and a taste of his immaculate cooking skills.

Dinner time is going to be difficult for her.

###  

Seven days until the fight and Taeyong’s nerves are up the roof. The media has started to go crazy, publicity at its peak, Dongyoung the busiest he has ever been and his eyes are reddened from the lack of sleep. He spends most of his time practicing, with the usual break for a meal or a chat with…well, her.

It’s eleven at night when his phone is no longer as interesting as it should and he decides to go to the gym, get some punches on and practice a bit more. Though, once he slides the doors open, he is met by the sound of groaning and rubber hitting against rubber. His sturdiest punching bag, in a bright red color through the gray walls, stands out when she collides her fists against them, covered by his fighting gloves that move around her hands thanks to her ignorance in not knowing how to put them on.

The door closes behind him, but she’s too immersed in whatever consumes her, sweat pooling at her forehead, sporting her pajamas as she knocks and knocks against the punching bag. They are weak punches, but filled with rage, trying her hardest to bend something stronger than her to her will. As though she wants power again, but she’s unable to receive it.

“You’re going to hurt yourself.” Taeyong says, moving over to her to take the punching bag in between his fingers. She looks at him, hands misplaced in front of her, one over the other, as she tries to land another punch. Upon trying to smile at her, she doesn’t.

“What is there to it?” She asks, voice low, void of any hope, ridden by impatience. “If I hurt myself, what’s there to it? I have nothing else to lose.”

Her right fist lifts up at that, a groan ripping through her throat when she punches the bag again. Taeyong widens his eyes, shaking his head in the process. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What just happened?” Though, worry only glimmers on him when he sees her drop to her knees, taking off his gloves and tossing them to the side when she brings her hands up to her eyes, folding onto herself as a sob escapes her. “Hey…”

He rushes towards her, taking her in between his arms as he tries to get a glimpse of his face. Her hold is strong, covering every ounce of pain on her features.

“Let go, Taeyong.”

“Not when you’re like this.” Taeyong whispers, resting his chin on top of her head as he hears her crying in his arms. His heart is broken, and he doesn’t even know why. He’s captured in this mansion, aware of his surroundings, because of her, isn’t it? Somehow, his mind can’t quite believe that she wasn’t another little card played in a game of poker, but they both lost. “W—What happened? I can’t help you if you don’t…if you don’t tell me. Oh God, please stop crying—”

She doesn’t, but she rubs at her eyes, lifting her gaze to connect her eyes with his own once he pulls away from her. Not enough to let go of her, but to look at her instead.

“I’ve lost it all, Taeyong.” She says, shaking her head when her lip trembles. She bites it before another sob could leave her. “I’ve lost my friend, the casino, my apartment, my life. Taeyong, how can I protect you when I have nothing else to lose? I don’t see a way out of this mess Tori created for me—”

Taeyong shakes his head, using his thumbs to rub the tears away. “You haven’t lost everything.” For some reason, he finds his body gravitating towards her, his nose resting on the side of her face as he takes in a breath, rubbing his skin with her own when a shaky sigh leaves her. “You haven’t lost me. I’m your friend. I’m here. You’ve proved yourself trusty enough—”

“You’re not mine to lose, Taeyong.” She repeats, shaking her head. “I can’t be your friend. I haven’t lost you yet, Taeyong. They’re still looking for you and you’re getting in that ring looking to—” Her arms push him away, obstinate in the way she rests a hand against her forehead. “Looking to get killed, Taeyong. Eiji is going to murder you.”

Taeyong denies that with a little smile of his own. “That’s the risk of being a boxer. A punch could always be a little bit too strong—”

“No, Yong, he’s looking to kill you. I investigated him, Taeyong, he’s killed someone on the ring—”

“What can I do?” He asks, though never does he lift his voice or accuse her of anything. A feather in the way he reaches out for her and once again, takes her in with those eyes of his. “I can’t back out. I can’t do that now when I’m just one step away from reaching what I have worked so hard for.”

His ambition has blinded him, or maybe, she is just a coward while he has been the real hero all along. “Right.” She whispers, reaching a hand out to cradle his face before a grin takes over her features. “Taeyong?”

“Mhm?” He hums, eyelashes fluttering against the underside of his eyes.

“I will never have enough words to tell you how sorry I am for getting you into this. For using your punching bag, too.” She tells, earning laughter from him as he helps her up.

“I was just worried you’d injure yourself. Bad punches and with the gloves not put on correctly? An equation to broken knuckles.”

“Oh, because you’re an expert in broken knuckles.” She jokes around, only to have him nodding.

“You’d be surprised to know that I am quite knowledgeable in the subject.” Though, his warm hands reach for her own as he puts the gloves on her, palming her hands together to make sure they are tightly put. “Come on, I’m going to teach you how to land a good punch.”

###  

Her favorite part of the entire mansion is the balcony. The railings are modern, straight lines and no curves, but the coldness of it when she wraps her fingers around it, the breeze swooshing at her hair has her closing her eyes. For once, the world feels okay. It’s quiet, peaceful, she’s back in square one. No judgement, no time, nothing to worry about.

But she has things to worry about. Twenty-four hours until the fight. An entire day filled with images of what she has made her mind into. She opens her eyes then, hearing the doors of the balcony slide open until she feels someone placing a cold glass against her skin. She hisses, turning around to capture the cause of the shiver and pain that rakes up her skin, but when she wraps her hand around Taeyong’s wrist, he’s already smiling.

No, he’s chuckling, like a goddamned child on a Christmas morning before he waves the glass of iced tea in front of her face. “I’ve got you and I’ve got you good.” He says, now resting it against her cheek when she tries to reach out for it again. It burns, that’s for sure.

“Taeyong!” She scolds, even when he continues laughing, almost choking on his own iced tea when he takes a sip to ease his laughter. It doesn’t work, clearly, and she has to pat his back to get him to stop coughing, eyes brimmed with tears when he looks up at her. “Jesus, why did you drink the tea if you were laughing?”

“I…I…was…” He coughs again, chuckling when he straightens his back and looks at her, rubbing his tears again. “I was being stupid.” His voice comes out hoarse, but that’s all his doing.

“I could tell.” She replies, but a little giggle makes its way through her lips. This is probably the last time she is going to see him like this, and she can’t help but feel a little tug at her heart. The past few weeks have been tranquil, perfect in their own way, and she knows better than to get attached…but she has never had a friend like this. “So, Yong.” He repeats her name, only to have her taking a sip of the tea. “You prepared for tomorrow?”

The question almost sounds like she is asking herself, but she ignores it, concentrating on the way Taeyong nods. “I am.” She hums, turning around to continue to look at the moonshine and the dangling stars, but just as she takes in a breath, she feels his presence behind her, resting one hand on her hair to ruffle it softly. “Thank you for making dinner all these days. It was tasty.”

“Tasty?” She questions, looking over her shoulder to see him a bit too close. His eyes look down at her lips, parting his own, shimmered by the glistening lights of the city around them. Too far to see them. “It was average at best.”

“It was made with intent. That’s all that matters.” He whispers, resting one of his arms on the side of her body, hooking his fingers on the railing before taking a sip of his drink. The sinful way his throat goes up and down and he licks his lips after has her cursing herself internally. “You know, I really thought you were going to be one of the best people I would ever meet. Then, you were the worst. And then, you came out to be…”

“The worst, again?”

“Human. You’re neither too good nor too bad. You’re real.” Taeyong says, his breath fanning over her face when he looks into her eyes. “A friend of mine once told me that I had to inspect people’s eyes to know if they were lying or not. I had to see myself in them, but I could never see me in yours. I could only see…see you, you giving it your all to make sure I was okay.” He mumbles, and she feels her heart being stepped on, tugged, eaten alive just at his words. His body pushes forward, his abdomen contorting to her back when he leans down, lips caressing her own. “And I want to be able to thank you—”

He places the glass down on the table next to them, his cold fingertips melting against her stomach when he brings her back, pressing his lips against her own. His slim body molds to hers perfectly, as if made to fit her, and for a moment, she stays there, with her chin placed over her shoulder as she kisses him with fervor. It feels right, to have the wet glide of his lips against her own, tongues getting to know each other and he lets out a soft breath.

But that’s the thing. Taeyong is soft, dulcet, tranquil. He’s made for all the good in the world, and she’s in the bad. As much as her heart wants to glimmer gold, it’s tainted in black. She pushes herself away from him, taking in a deep breath when he looks into her eyes. There is nothing that she desires more than to kiss him, but—

“It’s better if we don’t.” She mumbles, and he stays quiet for a few seconds before pushing himself away from her.

“You didn’t want to? Oh shit, I didn’t mean to—”

“I want to, Taeyong. I’d kiss you forever if I could.” She replies, turning around until her back is resting against the railing. “I would love to have you kissing me silly and be with you but—”

“But?” Taeyong asks, raising his eyebrows.

“But from tomorrow on, I won’t be with you.” Though, she shortens the real reason. “I don’t…want you to think I’m a good person, that underneath me is all the good in the world. I’ve hung out with the wrong people and no I have to learn how to deal with that. I can’t fill your life with that bullshit. Not anymore.”

Taeyong crosses his arms over his chest, staring off into the city, his hair tied behind his back to put his gorgeous face in full display. “So, tomorrow you will leave?”

“I’ll make sure I leave everything organized so they never bother you again.” She moves over to him, splaying her hands on his chest, rolling them backwards until they rest on his back and she tugs him for a hug. She doesn’t want him to see the tears that gather in her eyes when she says: “And as long as you’re okay, that’s all I could care about. You’ll get over it, Taeyong, but I could never get over losing you.”

Taeyong nuzzles his nose against her neck, breathing in deeply before the warmth of his mouth lets out a few words: “Why couldn’t it have been easier for us?”

The possibilities are endless, but she fights back the tears and pulls away to say a truth she doesn’t want to accept. “Because we were never meant to be, Taeyong.” With that, she takes the glass she had left on the side, taking a sip before humming. “So, care to watch a movie with me before everything goes to hell?”

He nods. “There’s nothing I’d love more.”

### 

As it turns out, the lights on top of the ring burn against his skin, compared to the flashes and the cheers that come with the people surrounding him. For once, he feels naked, as if reborn again, with his shirt off and his knuckles well prepared for a good punches, his hair pushed away from his face and his eyes directly set onto Eiji.

The man practically oozed confidence the moment he entered the ring. Tall, sturdy, ready to take over the world, with his prize wrapped around his waist before he unhooks it and shows it to the world. He even manages to throw some laughter Taeyong’s way, teeth clattering and eyes throwing daggers by the time they hook their gazes.

But he knows something…and that is that he has a family, away from the one that is obviously watching him from home. He has his staff, including Soonhwan and Dongyoung at the corner, waiting for him, rubbing Vaseline on his skin just in case something goes wrong with a wound and they prepared for him, confectioned each muscle on his body to be in his best shape.

He jumps in place a few times, hearing the introductions of both the fighters and the referee, the judges themselves, as well, and his mind suddenly goes to one of the people in the crowd.

Her.

She’s there.

And somehow, that makes him feel better. It relaxes him, because while he had once thought of boxing as a game of the body, it includes the mind too. When he steps forward, face to face with Eiji as he sports that infamous grin of his, that people somehow don’t notice is far more malicious than intended, he sees himself in those eyes. They are so different, yet he can see the determination in his own features, his blonde head of hair, the preparation of his body.

And he can see that he wants to win, for all he put him through. For all she had to lose just because of him.

So, the first punch lands in the weakest point he can muster, hearing cheers from the world around him, bleeding around his ears. Taeyong’s pulse quickens and he tries to take it easy. Life is a game of poker and all his cards have been spread, but now more than ever, he wants to win. Not to be the champion, though that would be a plus, but because he caused him pain, real pain, and that’s not how this sport works.

He’s back on square one, when he had to defend the bakery against those robbers, so even when punches land on his face and body, he manages to dodge them—or some of them, really—.

Somewhere in the crowd, he’ll show her that there is nothing more she should worry about.

### 

It’s time to say goodbye.

As she moves through the groups of people in the crowd, excusing herself along the way, with her heart roaring to the sound of the people around her cheering. Taeyong is doing good. Too good, and pride swells at her chest, as well as fear. She knows what Eiji is capable of, but when she sees Tori in the front row, a bottle of beer snugly kept in place by his fingers, she knows that her plan will be executed to perfection.

All Eiji wants is money and power. As long as one of the people that got in his way is killed and he gets his money, he is okay. That, along with causing Taeyong pain, is more than what he could ever ask for. It’s the kind of mentality that comes with dictators, an eye for an eye, and maybe, she’ll snatch both out if that means just getting out of this mess. Protecting him, above all, from a bullet through the chest. From what happened to Allegra because of Tori’s fucking loans.

Her hand splays on top of his shoulder, freezing when he looks at her from over his shoulder, his mussy hair falling over his now disgusting face. “Long time no see, friend.”

His surprise doesn’t last long, the corner of his lips lifting up in a smile. “Likewise.” He turns around then, jutting his chin forward. “Want to take this outside and talk?”

“I think we can talk here.” She crosses her arms across her chest, kneeling down just in case the people behind her start arguing about her position. Her eyes connect to Tori’s, a harsh sigh leaving her lips. “I know what you’ve been meaning to do and I know you work for Eiji, but I have something I want you to tell your boss.”

Tori shakes his head, trying to play dumb. “I don’t know what you’re—”

“You can take my casino. It’s all yours now. Take all the money that you will from my bank accounts, but don’t touch Taeyong. Do not lay a single finger on one of his hairs, because I’ll make sure to haunt you down if you don’t follow through.” And maybe, she’s a one-woman club, but she knows that someone like him doesn’t deserve half of the shit he has been put through. “…You can take me instead of him. Kill me. Rob me. Whatever the fuck you want to do. I will work for you if that’s what Eiji wants, but he can’t touch Taeyong. That’s my part of the business.”

Tori remains silent for a few seconds, the ring of the bell catching him out of his thoughts before he hums. “Okay, I’ll talk to the boss.” He says, tugging at her arm and placing her by his side before sighing. “This could’ve been easier if only Allegra had not decided to change her testament on the last minute, you know?”

He takes a sip of his beer and she scoffs at his words. “What do you mean?”

“I would’ve paid all my loans had she kept on her word and left everything under my name. That was the plan, killing her and paying Eiji’s family, but you had to come around and ruin it all.” The sound of his voice brings a shiver down his spice, looking down at his hands, the same ones that had killed her friend. “I gave you another chance and I was going to kill you once you got to the office, but you had to ruin everything, right? Stab me in the back and all.”

All the pain, the questioning, the mysteriousness, had all fallen down on him. How could she not have noticed? “That makes two of us.” She repeats, throwing her head back when she sees Tori stand up. “Wait, what—?”

“Come with me.” He instructs, extending his hand. “You have to leave The Jungle under my name and I’ll leave you with the Watanabe’s on the way there.”

Her eyes close tightly. There was no way of getting out of this legally, so she had to result to this. Maybe, if the world is fair, she won’t have to die today.

So, she grasps the hand of the man that killed her friend, stabbed her in the back and brought Taeyong into her life only to pluck him away at the same time, and decides to put all her hope in destiny.  

Or mercy, really.

###

Eleven months later.

A beauty blender presses against his skin, cameras pointed directly to his face as he looks up at the ceiling. The makeup artist is trying to get to his dark circles, ever-present ever since he earned the title of worldwide light featherweight champion, but he is also taking this time to think. Rehearse over his lines for the interview, try not to get lost in his thoughts, feel proud of the place he finds himself in.

But he feels guilty, instead. Eleven months ago, he had been stupid enough to leave her on that crowd, on her own, gone to God-knows-where, doing God-knows-what and definitely not alive. Taeyong has perpetrated this inside his brain, that there is no way in hell she was alive. Maybe, one of Eiji’s men took her, or she tried to win a fight on her own, but he is certain of one thing: All the riches around him, the success, the life that he is living comes from the fact that she had given up something for him. To keep him safe.

They could have been great friends. Hell, maybe, if things had been different for them during that one-night stand, he would have asked for her number and they’d pose for pictures together, be the envy and the gossip of magazines, but that didn’t happen. Instead, he’s seated on a leather seat, cladded on a black turtleneck and matching pants, with his hair now dyed deep brown as the makeup artist tries to smile at him.

“Your eyes shine a lot, sir.” She says, a small giggle leaving her lips as she pushes the beauty blender away from his face.

Taeyong tries to smile, he really does, but he has heard those words before. Not from fans, not from family, but from her. Those were one of the first few conversations they had and it’s stupid of him to keep clinging to that. They weren’t Bonnie and Clyde or Romeo and Juliet. They were two fairytales, far too realistic, that interfered in each other’s stories but were never meant to end up together.

“So, I’ve heard.” Taeyong replies, but just before the makeup artist could say anything else, Dongyoung comes sprinting into the studio, trying to catch his breath as he splays his hands on his thighs. “Dongyoung, what happened?”

His nerves have been on the line ever since what happened. Always wary. Always careful. Not everyone was good, he had learned, but sometimes, the bad holds some of its past with it. The publicist lifts his gaze, waving a letter in front of him when he spits out: “You got mail. This is important.”

He has never seen Dongyoung this preoccupied, or this excited at the same time. Taeyong frowns, taking the card in between his fingers before touching the signature at the back of the envelope. That’s when his heart picks up, seeing her real name—not boss, not the nickname she used, but the one she had given him instead. The person he knew.

But no, it couldn’t be. She had to be dead.

Impatience and ignorance makes him open the envelope far too quickly, ripping it to get to the letter, signed only two weeks ago.

Dear Taeyong,

I know you probably curse at the sound of my name by now, or that you hate me. I don’t blame you. I hated me to certain extent, too. I only learned how to grow easy with myself after what I did and here I am.

How’s life? I know you won’t be able to reply to me, but from where I am—in some island that I shouldn’t be telling you about—, I get to see some glimpses of you on TV. I’m glad you’re doing great and that you’re successful. I hope you get to meet someone to be by your side in all those interviews, but that’s only if you want…you have always been whole just on your own.

I wanted to pretend I was dead. I thought it was easier for you, but it’s not easier for me. I expected to die that night I gave myself to The Redemption but no, Eiji’s family wanted me to keep working for them. They said to never communicate with you, but the more I saw you on TV as I travelled around the world, the more I hoped I would have been able to say my proper goodbyes.

I’m a mule. Not an animal, I just deliver…things around. Things I shouldn’t be talking about in a letter that your management will probably read, but I was just clarifying in case you didn’t know. I’m working for them, and it’s not easy, but it’s what had to be done. They would have killed you instead, I know they would have.

And I wouldn’t have been able to take it. Not you, Taeyong. Not the only person I had left that I could trust.

Allegra once told me that I had to start to trust people. I trusted her, I trusted Tori, but I never learned what was real trust until I met you, Taeyong. I know now what she felt…what she wanted…she only wanted be me to be safe, and I wanted the same for you.

I get a feeling only good things will come your way now that I’m not around, so hold tight. This is only the first ride to success.

Much love and all the hugs and kisses I never managed to give you.

She ends it with her name, and Taeyong has to look up to stop the tears that gathered in his vision. Still, he blinks them away, reading the letter over and over again before holding it closely to his chest. Dongyoung doesn’t take it, thankfully, and he relishes on the feeling of knowing she is okay. She is alive.

Not living the life she deserved, but breathing nonetheless.

“Are you ready, Mr. Lee?” The interviewer asks, taking a seat on the couch across from him as he looks down at his notes. “I’m a huge fan of you. I’m sure you don’t mind some extra questions.”

“I don’t.” He smiles. If there is one thing he has to do is succeed.

For him.

For his family.

For his friends.

For her, for giving the casino and her freedom away just to have him succeed.

Little does she know he would never curse her name, not when she’s the bravest person he has ever met, and that comes from someone who does boxing for a living.

[smells-like-mettaton]

Chapter 2: Burning spaghetti, and other signs your cousin-slash-dad may not be ready for parenthood

Word Count: 1140

XXX

Chara woke up to the smell of burning spaghetti.

For a second they were afraid that Mettaton had left them with Papyrus after all.  That’s what Alphys had wanted, right?  Chara had pretended to be asleep when she woke Mettaton, but they’d heard the whole conversation.  Alphys didn’t want to deal with a kid in her house.  

Chara couldn’t blame her.  They’d never been the… easiest kid, anyway.

She hadn’t kicked them out, though.  They were lying on the same lumpy blue couch they and Mettaton had passed out on.  So either Papyrus had come over early, or…

“Damnation, I knew that wasn’t enough glitter.”

Mettaton was in the kitchen, burning the spaghetti himself.  Huh.

Chara tried to climb off of the couch, but their fragile soul still had trouble coordinating their bony legs.  They fell in a heap on the carpet.

“Sta—I mean, babybones?”  Mettaton’s head quickly poked out of the kitchen.  “Are you al… oh dear.”

He rushed over and scooped them up in his arms.  That would’ve been fine if his hands and apron weren’t covered in sparkly tomato sauce.

Chara tried to stick out their tongue, then remembered they no longer had one.

“I’m fine.” They tried to wriggle out of his arms. “I’m not gonna die again just from falling over.”

“Of course, darling.” He set them gently back on the couch.  “How are you feeling?”

They rolled their eyelights.  At least they could still do that.

“You know you’re not really my dad, right?”

Mettaton blinked.  Chara heard his internal fans whir, which was as close as the robot could get to blushing.

“You heard all that, didn’t you.  You always were too nosy for your own good, cousin.”

Chara smirked. It was hard to do without lips, but they never shied away from a challenge. 

“And you always exaggerate.  I don’t even have a nose.”

Mettaton laughed.  It sounded a little different than when he’d been a ghost.  Though the new sound felt foreign, it would have been weirder if it was the same.

They’d both changed since Chara had been adopted into the Blook family.  But just like the last time they’d woken from death, he was there to give Chara something to hold on to.

“If I didn’t know better, I would have assumed you were Papyrus’s child, too,” Mettaton said.  “You have his sense of humor.” 

“I’ve been around a lot longer than him.” Chara crossed their arms.  “If anything, he has my sense of humor.”

“Fair enough, little cousin.”  He stuck out his tongue.  No fair.  “So, ah.  Since you already know what Alphys said… have you considered what you want to tell the others?”

“I’m not telling them I’m Chara.”  

They’d picked a new name the first time they “died,” throwing away the name their human parents had inflicted on them.  They’d become Chara Dreemurr.  Then when they died for real, the Blook family had given them a new purpose, kept them from fading away with apathy.  They’d become Stabstablook, to the envy of their cousin Maddy.  

They hadn’t chosen a new name while traveling inside Frisk.  They hadn’t needed to since Frisk had never asked.  Maybe they would’ve been Nobody, just for the pun.  It didn’t matter now; they’d traded in that opportunity when they’d stayed behind at their grave, keeping silent vigil with Flowey until he inevitably grew bored and disappeared.

How long ago had that been?  Long enough to dream of another lifetime, of a strange goopy skeleton and a human body that wasn’t their own.  “Kris” was a name that didn’t belong to them, that would be better off without their accidental interference.

They’d lived too many lifetimes to go back.  Chara and all those other names were dead.  The skeleton that had been pulled out of their grave was… someone else.

“I’ll pick out a new name eventually,” they mumbled. “Good job keeping Alphys from asking, by the way.”

“I wasn’t lying.  We both know how important names are.”  He brushed his hands off on his apron.  (Chara noticed that it said OH YES! over a picture of Mettaton’s box form in a chef hat.  Classy.)  “I won’t tell anyone who you are, but we have to tell them something.” 

“I thought we already did.” Chara flicked glitter off of their shirt, even though the spaghetti stains made it unsalvageable.  “As far as Alphys knows, I am the biological child of you and Papyrus.”

Mettaton’s internal fans were deafening, and Chara couldn’t help flashing a toothy grin.  Alphys was the best.  They couldn’t have come up with a better (or more entertaining) excuse if they’d tried.

“There is only one tiny problem with that.” Mettaton winced.  “I haven’t, ah, actually gone out with Papyrus.  Yet, of course!  I’m sure that if I showed up at his house… with a bouquet of rose-shaped spaghetti… he would surely swoon into my arms!”

“Great.  Sounds like you’ve got it covered.” Chara flopped back on the couch, already tired from all of this talking.  It took more energy to be chatty now that they had to move a physical mouth.

Mettaton’s fists balled in frustration, but then he relaxed and stood up straighter.

“I do!  Everything will be covered in moi!”

“Especially Papyrus,” Chara said with a snicker.

That was how they found out that robots could blush.  Or maybe he was just so flustered that his ghostly abilities made it possible.

“If you were on my show, you’d be censored for a comment like that,” he hissed.

“Good thing we’re not on your show.” Chara winked.  They hadn’t realized how much they’d missed things like having a face.  Maybe Frisk would’ve laughed at Chara’s puns every once in a while if they’d had facial expressions to pair with them.

“Hmph.  Then I’ll… wash your mouth out with soap!”  He smirked smugly.  “That’s what human parents do, isn’t it?”

“...No?”  Chara hoped their voice didn’t sound too suspicious.  It was nice but strange, having a real voice again.  It echoed inside their skull and came out somewhat distorted. Was that effect what produced the “fonts” skeletons had? If so, they still didn’t know enough to identify their own.

“Anyway.” Their gaze flickered to the kitchen, which was half-hidden behind Mettaton’s head. “Your spaghetti’s burning, Dad.”

Mettaton’s eyes widened, though Chara couldn’t be sure if it was from the sarcastic title, or from him finally noticing the smoke billowing through the doorway.

“Papyrus says that adds flavor!” he insisted while running back to the kitchen, his apron trailing like a cape behind him.

Chara didn’t know if skeletons could taste.  Judging by the culinary choices they’d seen Sans and Papyrus ingest while inside Frisk, they didn’t think so.

If they could, Chara figured they were in for a worse time than having their mouth washed with soap.

[johnkrrasinski]

i want your midnights; 

full masterlist

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 1,749

Warning: fluff!! pure feelings 

Summary: this one’s written for the @mypoisonedvine​‘s festive writing challenge with the prompt “kissing at the new year’s eve count down.” there was only one person that you wanted to celebrate new years with and it was bucky barnes, the love of your life. 

a/n: not my best work but eh, i needed some holiday fluff with bucky. comment and reblog if you like! 

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

You straightened the skirt of your dress, trying to make yourself look presentable as you took a deep breath. To say you were nervous would be an outrageous understatement. You haven't played for a big crowd, let alone a crowd in awhile. The last time you were standing with identical emotions swirling through your stomach was when you were in your adolescent years. It wasn't because you grew bored of it, it was simply because you grew up and life had its funny way of surprising you. This occupation wasn't merely a job, it was a lifestyle. And this lifestyle didn't allow you to think that you'd ever have the chance to revisit this forgotten passion.

But here you were. About to perform one of your favourite songs on the grand instrument placed in the centre of the room and you feel like your stomach was sinking. You were good and you were adored. Suck it up and don't be a coward!

The ticking clock shows that it was three hours away from midnight. And the party was in full swing because it's New Year's Eve and Tony Stark was a man of flamboyant parties. And may God help you if he discovered your hidden talent.

"You should sing on New Year's Eve! Entertain the guests before midnight. What's better than live music at a party?"

"I don't know, Tony... I haven't sung in so long."

"You literally just did two minutes ago!"

"Okay first, that was in my room where no one was watching and second, you weren't supposed to see that!"

Tony walked up to the mini stage with a microphone in one hand and a glass of Champagne in the other.  "Ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention? I shouldn't be asking, after all, you were invited to my party." The elicited a few chuckles from the guests. "Let me start by thanking all of you for coming here tonight..."

Tony's speech was muffled by the grasp around your waist by a familiar pair of arms. "Nervous?"

"Extremely."  You smiled despite the averment.

"Baby, don't worry. I've heard you sing and you have one of the loveliest voices in the world."

"You're just saying that cause you're my boyfriend, Bucky..."

"That's true, but the latter is also true."

You turned around in his arms and threw yours around his neck. "Thank you for the encouraging words. I feel a bit lighter knowing that you'll be in the crowd."

"My pleasure, darling." He kissed you with his hands still on your waist, holding you close but Tony's words disrupted your moment.

"We have a special and exclusive performance tonight. Please welcome, my friend, ____ ____!“

The soft claps welcomed you and it was your turn to take the stage.

"Good evening, everybody. I'm y/n and I hope you enjoy my performance tonight."

A sprightly "whew!" was heard and you instantly recognized Clint's voice.

Your fingers pushed the first few notes of the intro and the sound immediately changed the atmosphere in the room.

"There's glitter on the floor after the party, girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby..." You sang to the microphone. "Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor, you and me from the night before but..."

"Don't read the last page but I stay when you're lost and I'm scared and you're turning away, I want your midnights but I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on new year's day." You still hadn't dared to gaze at the audience so you focused on looking down on the black and white keys.

"You squeezed my hand three times in the back of the taxi, I can tell that it's gonna be a long road. I'll be there if you're the toast of the town babe," you didn't know why but your heart drove your gaze to the crowd and you instantly found the person you were singing for. "...Or if you strike out and you're crawling home..."

"Don't read the last page but I stay when it's hard or it's wrong or we're making mistakes..." You didn't look away. You couldn't. Not when the love of your life was staring right back at you with those warm steel blue eyes. "I want your midnights, but I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day." You meant every word.

"Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you, hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you, hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you." This time your eyes wandered to the crowd, familiar and strange faces staring back at you with contented looks and you hoped these words would cling to them.

"...And I will hold on to you." Because they did to you and you did to the man standing a few feet away from you but your hearts and your minds remained connected.

"Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere, please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere..." A brief flashback played in your mind; the lovers turned strangers, the friends turned enemies, the loved ones turned ghosts. You barely heard from them anymore these days, but you could still remember their laughters, an epitome of the good memories. You hoped that this dynamic ragtag group of vigilantes would never turn into one of those tragedies. Another buried name that goes up to the monument.  

"There's glitter on the floor after the party, girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby, candle wax and polaroids on the hardwood floor," your heartbeat hummed the euphonious melody, "...You and me forevermore." There he was. Smiling at you. Always smiling because you were the light of his life and his simpers were genuine and frequent now.

"Don't read the last page, but I stay when it's hard or it's wrong or we're making mistakes, I want your midnights, but I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day, hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you, and I will hold on to you." You chanted the closing lyrics and when the last note resonated, the guests' claps were louder this time, invigorating your confidence.

Everyone returned to their own things; catching up with their friends, laughing on the couch and drinking by the bar and Natasha was even standing behind it like a professional part-time bartender. Some were slow dancing and the others are already a little too drunk.

"That was beautiful, doll."

"You think so?"

"I know so. You got a gift, you shouldn't hide it from the world."

"I'm not trying to hide it, Bucky. I just... I didn't have the time with the world-saving and all. And music makes people happy, but it doesn't save lives."

"Well, if I don't know when I'll see you play again, then I'm glad at least we got tonight. And you're wrong, doll. You certainly saved me."

"Your words will be the death of me, Barnes."

-

Everyone gathered around, watching the big screen displaying the countdown to midnight. As the numbers go down, the more energized people become. Your arms were tangled with Bucky's, not wanting to be far away from the person you loved the most seconds before the year finalizes its chapter.

For a moment there, you felt happy. You looked around to see your teammates with smiles on their faces, stress-free and humans. This job hadn't allowed you to be just a human living a normal life. But tonight was one of the rare moments where all of you could just be normal people celebrating holidays.

And then there was Bucky, the man who had lived for a century, whose entire life was stolen away from him, and the man that your heart chose to fall in love with, and you were lucky enough that he chose you too. You had spent two Christmases together, and now you were entering another new chapter together, and there was no one else you'd rather wake up with an awful hangover with. There was no one else who would be there to give you Advil in the morning and deal with your mess.

5,4,3,2,1...

"Happy New Year!"

You and Bucky kiss, as all the cheers and noises, faded into the background. Bucky grabbed you close by the waist, and you had your arms around his neck trying to hold onto his lips as long as possible. You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling all the overwhelming affection you had for him. Bucky felt it too deep in his bones, who would've thought that despite all the atrocities his hands had to commit, someone as beautiful and wonderful as you would love him despite it all? Would kiss him on New Year's Eve and would stick with him through another year?

"Happy new year, darling."

"Happy new year." You couldn't fake the smile forming on your face. “I can’t believe it’s our second New Year’s together.”

“There’s no one else I’d rather spend the rest of my New Years with.”

“Are you saying you’re willing to spend the rest of your New Years dealing with my cranky hangover moods and pulling my hair back when I throw up?”

“As long as it’s you, I’m ready for pretty much anything. You’ve had my back and picked up my mess when I was at my worst, doll and I didn’t deserve it, but you did so without asking for anything, and I’m willing to do the same for you.”

You nearly teared up at his words, the past two years hadn’t always been the smoothest road with rainbows and butterflies for you two. You stuck with Bucky through his nightmares, panic attacks and his therapy sessions and you loved him despite all his open wounds and permanent scars, and Bucky had never felt luckier to have fallen in love with you too along the way. It began with a friendship and bloomed into something deeper, and the last two New Years that you had spent together reminded you that you could walk through every hurricane that life threw at you as long as you were together.

“You always knew how to calm down my fears and lift up my spirit and I’m eternally grateful for that.”

“Guess we’re just perfectly imperfect for each other, huh?”

“Guess we are.” He kissed you again with a huge smile on his face and zest for writing the first page of 365 pages with you.

[creepy-spooghetti]

A Hapless Endearment [Creepypasta x F. Reader]

Chapter 1- Over the River and Through the Woods

Yesss, I started a fanfic. I know. Go me, right?

I'm sure you all know the drill by now but, for those of you who don't, here it is:

Y\n = Your name

L\n = Last name

H\c = Hair color

E\c = Eye color

F\c = Favorite color

B\m = Birth month

S\t = Skin tone

B\s = Body shape

L\c = Lip color

H\l = Hair length

Aaaand I think that's it for now. Enjoy the 1st chapter~

_____________________________________________________

She lets out an inaudible sigh, her head propped in her hand as she gazes out of the blue-tinted window. Trees and small houses whiz by, blurring together and creating an evanescent of greens, browns, whites, and yellows. The sun is high in the turquoise sky, its heated summer rays shining down through the puffy clouds and shooting beams of light throughout the atmosphere.

She attempts to make fun shapes out of the fluffy, levitating white lumps, though she can't seem to concentrate long enough to truly get anywhere with it. The car would be completely silent if not for the constant humming of the wheels beneath scraping the asphalt and bringing them closer to their destination. Beside Y\n lays her luggage; a simple duffle bag colored a periwinkle purple and a black backpack, each stuffed with various clothes and necessities she deemed imperative to bring along.

Her headphones are placed diligently over her ears, muffling any noise that may come from outside and blocking it out with music of her choice. Her finger fiddles with the wire, twirling it around absentmindedly as she stares through the thin glass, her mind on nothing in particular and instead wandering aimlessly amidst the endless fog of thoughts and memories. She glances to her side- or rather, ahead of her- landing her gaze on her father as he sits in the driver's seat, hands gripping the steering wheel, and concentrating on the stretch of road in front of him. 

He has a rather torpid expression painted across his face, she can see as she looks up at his reflection in the rear-view mirror. Not too happy about coming back here, she thinks, narrowing her eyes slightly, but why would he be? It's only his parents. Who cares about them? Certainly not him.

She notices her mother sitting in the passenger's side, brown hair tied back into a neat bun and head craned forward, eyes squinted as she focuses on the glowing screen of her phone; her thumb scrolling the small device listlessly, seemingly in search of something interesting, or perhaps she's reading something that has gained her interest. 

Then something always seems to have gained her interest. Her e\c eyes move back to their previous position, a faint feeling of indignancy rising within her chest and beginning to bubble to the surface. I doubt she even sleeps, always up all night texting her boyfriend.

A bitter sensation grabs at her tongue and makes her want to spit the foul taste out, though she only swallows and bites the inside of her cheek as if attempting to rid herself of the disconcerting concept. She searches the hollows of her mind for something lighthearted, a memory that contains laughter and joy and fondness, however, she finds nothing. She's unable to remember the last time within the last couple of years that she and her family shared a delightful moment together, when her father smiled or her mother was veridical. 

She comes to the demoralizing realization that her family hasn't acted as a family since she was twelve years old, only still a child when her clinquant life slowly came crashing down before her. She isn't sure the exact minute that it happened, or have a specific reason as to why it happened, all she knows is that her parents steadily grew more and more distant, drawing themselves out of her sight until she felt completely alone; abandoned. Forgotten.

She tried to talk to them, get them to open back up, allow their only child back in, and each time, they forced themselves farther back into the cold, bitter darkness and left her desperate, longing for their love and affection. She knew that she was never getting anywhere with her parents, so after many failed attempts, she just stopped her fruitless efforts.

As a result, it was only natural for Y\n to do the same. She wasn't getting the attention she desperately yearned for out of them, and the only thing she knew to do was to follow their lead. She cut off connections with most of her friends, refused to socialize unless it was necessary, kept her emotions locked away in a box, and threw away the key. Stepping out of the light that was society and making herself invisible among most people, even herself at times.

At this point, now sixteen years of age, she still cares deeply about what was to become of their lives, though she always drives the feelings of uncertainty to the back of her dimmed mind. If they don't give a crap, why should I?

She blinks, emerging from her thoughts of deep disdain as she registers the vehicle she sits in turn sharply, riding onto a dirt road and deeper into the forest that houses the two people she still holds in high regard. A blue and white sign passes by, and she quickly reads the words written in bold across its metal surface. Oneiric Lane, half a mile.

Despite the displeasing situation, she feels a splang of excitement erupt through her chest. Yes, she's nearly there. It will be nice to be loved again, treated fairly, and with affection. Unless they've forgotten about her. Impossible. I'm one of two grandchildren, they would never forget about me. Almost eagerly, she raises her head up, e\c irises gleaming in the slightly obscured sunlight shining in through the trees, and she gives herself a mental pep talk as if to encourage further what she knows should remain true.

It might be awkward... but I'll be fine. I can do it. What if they don't like me? I'm not exactly their 'little hummingbird', anymore... She tries to dismiss the thoughts as she observes her surroundings, trying to find an ounce of familiarity anywhere, though she fails to. Why don't I remember what the scenery looked like? Was that house there, before? Is that tree new? Ugh! I blame Dad for this. If he would've gotten rid of that stick up his butt then I could've been back here long ago! But no. He's so dang spiteful he can't just get over a simple argument like a civilized human being, no. He has to be a jerk about it! Leaving poor Nana and Pops in the dust like that... much like he's doing to me, right now. Oh, the irony. Is it possible to ramble in your head? Cause if so, I think I'm doing it, right now.

With a barely noticeable shake of her head, she pauses her music and gingerly removes her headphones, being careful not to tangle the wire as she unplugs it from the MP3 Player and wraps them around the f\c object. She then takes hold of her backpack, still open from where she retrieved the source of entertainment, and shoves them inside, zipping it closed after finishing. 

I have so many things to show them! Maybe Nana will let me do a paint job on her wall... I have gotten quite good. She rolls her eyes and lets out a sound similar to a huff. Don't get too ahead of yourself, Y\n. A simple canvas will do just nicely. Besides, she probably has wallpaper... or does she? I don't even remember. There were bright colors, though. Hopefully not too bright... That would be a bit too cheery for my tastes. But whatever. It's their house, I'm only the guest.

A ghost of a smile sweeps across her face when she sees the somewhat familiar, victorian-style cottage come into view, and she feels her heart speed up with elation as they draw nearer. Around the house lies a white picket fence, lined with beautifully planted flowers of all different colors, their stems having grown tall and wrapped themselves around each individual post, leaving a wild, peaceful appearance to it.

At the gate, about ten feet from the front door sits an intricate white arch made of thick twine and enlaced with more vibrant plants, and the house itself is a gentle shade of cornflower blue, with an ornate wooden roof that sparkles like tiny crystals in the sun's bright yellow beams. The window frames are a snow-white, their shutters open and allowing one to see the inside of the home, if only slightly, and the transparent pane is rimmed with stained glass roses. 

The whole architecture makes it look as if the words from a book of fairy tales leaked out of its pages and sprung to life, staying hidden between the trees until someone comes across it. It nearly takes her breath away, and she stares in awe, waiting anxiously for the vehicle to pull over so she can jump out and greet the people that are probably dearest to her heart, despite the long years it's been since she's laid eyes on them.

I forgot how amazing this place was... She unbuckles her seatbelt, practically leaning against the glass in building anticipation. I can just about smell her pineapple casserole, already! Finally, the car comes to a slow, almost hesitant stop a few feet from the gate, under a willow tree. She reaches down hastily toward the door handle, though when she pulls it, she finds that the door doesn't budge.

Only then does she realize it hasn't been unlocked and looks up at the man she calls her father expectably, impatiently. She waits a moment, but he makes no move to signify that he's unlocking the car. "Dad," she starts, her voice low and irritated, "open the door, please."

She watches as his hands clench up for a mere second before he releases a small sigh of vexation and presses the 'unlock' button, making the four doors to the vehicle click. Satisfied and vaguely relieved, she pulls on the handle, and the metal portal swings open, the warm summer air immediately greeting her as she steps out onto the vivid green grass. She takes a big whiff of the fresh air, natural scents swirling her nostrils and overwhelming them as she pulls her bags out from the car and slings them over her shoulder.

A sudden swirl of nervousness forms in the pit of her stomach as she steps toward the unfamiliar but yet all too recognizable cottage, questions floating around inside of her brain and making her stop her footsteps. I haven't seen them in years... What if they've changed? What if... they don't like how I've changed?

But her inquiries of doubt soon vanish when she hears a screen door swinging open before an elderly lady steps out, landing her gaze on the h\c girl instantly. Her face contorts into one of pure bliss and exhilaration as a wide smile takes over her aged features, and before Y\n even knows it, she's nearly running toward the arched gateway to meet and reunite with her. All worries she had before either disappear or shove themselves to the back of her mind, leaving her raw excitement to show itself in full form for the first time since she started on this trip.

"Phil, Phil!" the lady all but screams, diving for the gate and waving her hand around frantically. "She's here! Y\n's here!" The girl stands there silently, a smile tugging at her lips when she meets her grandmother's gaze for the first time in what feels like forever. Memories rush back like a large wave, rolling over her consciousness and causing her to remember every detail. As if all she needed was a physical, real-time picture of her to jolt her memory and remind her of how much she adored this woman, this whole place. 

As she hurries toward her, she gets a clear view of her appearance. She's wearing a floral dress, patterned with tiny petaled flowers of all different shapes and a skirt that drapes all the way down to her shins, a white and rose-pink apron that ties around her waist as if she's been cooking. Her shoes are simple beige sandals, and her grey, brittle hair is tied back into a Chinese-inspired bun. Her eyes are kind and welcoming, though sunken with age and life experience, and the wrinkles that crease her forehead and cheeks only remind Y\n of how old she has to be getting, now.

A sparkle of joy shines in her e\c orbs as she watches her approach at a surprisingly fast rate, no doubt caused by a rush of adrenaline. "Hi, Nana," she says, her tone warmer than it's been in a long time. She can see her slightly yellowed teeth past her wide grin right before she's enveloped in a tight embrace, her frail arms wrapping around Y\n's frame and pulling her into her as much as she possibly can.

A pleasant scent wafts up into her nose; it's a peaceful aroma, a mixture between strawberries and cinnamon. She hugs back with her free arm almost instantly, squeezing her grandmother's scrawny torso as much as she deems appropriate so she doesn't somehow injure her. She registers the screen door once again flying open, the creaking of its likely very old and unoiled hinges making a sound similar to a screech before footsteps are heard running across the polished stone. 

She mentally prepares herself for another bear hug, this time a lot more crushing and powerful, as she remembers how strong and stout of a man her grandfather is. "Oh! My girl is home!" He yells, right before she feels another pair of limbs wrap around her, nearly making her stumble and fall back just from force alone. A small, blissful chuckle leaves her l\c lips, feeling happiness flood inside of her chest, and though it's a different feeling, she certainly doesn't make it unwelcome.

"We've missed you so much!" Nana chirps, finally pulling away after what had to be two solid minutes. Her wrinkled hands lightly grasp her shoulders before moving up to cup her face, gently lifting it to get a better look. A surprised expression forms across her features before it's replaced by a wider- if it's even possible- smile. "Oh, look how much you've grown!" She turns her head toward her husband. "Phil, do you see her?"

"Aye. I sure do," he says with a proud nod of his head. "She's just as beautiful as she was the last time she visited." A small blush dusts itself across her cheeks and she looks to the side, embarrassed. He chuckles. "Just as bashful, too."

"Leave her alone." She turns back to face her, excitement dancing in her faded brown eyes. She brushes a strand of h\c hair behind her ear before giving her another hug. "We've missed you so much, sweetie. It's been too long." Y\n only nods shyly, not used to being fawned over as she is at the moment. Behind her, she hears the wheels of the car grinding against the dirt as it pulls out, and she twists her head back just in time to see her parents driving away, leaving her there for what's bound to be at least a couple of weeks.

All without a goodbye. A disgruntled huff leaves her nose and she purses her lips together, her heart starting to feel heavy as she stares in the direction of the dirt road they drove off in. The elderly couple is silent also before Phil clicks his tongue, though, in disappointment or anger, she isn't sure. "Well, how about that. No 'hello' or anything." 

"They're not big on hellos," Y\n mutters, feeling her fists clench. "Or goodbyes." Her grandma places a reassuring hand on her arm before grabbing her hand and talking in a sympathetic voice.

"I'm sorry, darling. I'm not sure what thorn got stuck in their shoe, but they need to get it out." She tightens her grip before letting out a sigh. "Anyway, we have to catch up! I haven't seen you since you were a little girl." She looks back at the old woman and allows a more peaceful expression to grace her features. "How old are you, now? Fifteen?"

"She looks more grown-up than that," Phil comments and Y\n shrugs lightly, biting her lip.

"Uhm... I'm sixteen. Gonna be seventeen in B\m."

"My word!" Her Nana exclaims, cupping a hand to her mouth to emphasize. "You're practically an adult, already!" 

"Only a few years older than that darned cat of yours, Farrah," he says, and Y\n's eyes light up momentarily as she remembers one of the main reasons she's always adored this place so much. 

"Marshmallow?" She questions, unsure excitement beginning to course through her, once again. "He's still alive?"

"Why, yes, he is," Farrah laughs cheerily, as if surprised by her inquiry. "Getting on up there, though. I'm a little shocked to know you remember him."

"Of course I remember him," she says, her voice growing louder from exhilaration. "He's my little buddy. I wonder if he still remembers me..." 

"I'm sure he does," Phil says. "He was always followin' you around. Probably cause you spoiled him so much with milk and meat from the pantry." She grins sheepishly and rubs the back of her neck. 

"He needs to be spoiled. Too sweet not to be spoiled."

"Very good point." Farrah smiles. 

"And yet I can't even have a dog in the house," he grumbles playfully. "You cat lovers don't make any sense."

"We don't have to make sense," Farrah says. "Cats are gorgeous, wholesome creatures, and they deserve to be treated as such. That's as much sense as you need."

"Sure, sure." He waves her off. "You treat that cat better than you do me."

"Well, you're not covered in angelic fur and lay on my lap to cuddle, now do you?" She raises a thin eyebrow, and he scoffs. 

"I can lay in your lap if that's what you want."

"No, thank you."

"Well, c'mon woman, make up your mind!"

"My mind is made up! Now, come on, dear." She pulls Y\n toward her and begins walking toward the cottage that the teenager hasn't stepped foot in for five years, and she follows behind, although somewhat reluctantly. "You must be starving."

"You want me to carry those for you?" Phil asks, and she glances over at him, her eyes widened slightly, clearly taken off-guard by the sudden offer. But she collects her bearings rather quickly and shakes her head with a grateful smile.

"N-no thanks, Pops. I got it."

"Whatcha got in those things? They look heavy." Her grip automatically tightens on the straps hanging from her shoulder before shrugging, trying to get used to being asked frequent questions and being around people who actually care about her.

"Um... clothes and stuff." She replies quietly as they step through the arched gateway. They walk along a neat path of polished stones and white marble, steadily getting closer to the painted oak door. She glances around, beside her feet, only to see a trail of tulips, consisting of pink, white, red, and violet, planted on either side of the carefully placed rock pathway. It continues to amaze her how her grandparents can manage to keep the garden beautiful, while also making sure the house is in tip-top shape.

Good genes, I guess.

"You got any o' those modern technology things that kids use nowadays?"

"I mean... I have a phone. And an MP3 player... and a laptop."

"Oi," he laughs, "I thought you were comin' here to get away from that stuff and spend a few weeks, old-person style." A hint of pink spreads across her cheeks, and suddenly, she feels a little guilty.

"I-I mean, I just brought them to do art and stuff, I wasn't meaning to intrude-"

"Oh, hush, Phil." Farrah scolds her husband, turning to face Y\n with a kind smile. "Calm down, sweetie. You can bring anything and do anything you want here, okay? Don't feel ashamed or unwelcome." Her eyes radiate a kind of warmth and friendliness that Y\n hasn't been shown in a long time, and she slowly nods, allowing a small smile to stretch across her face. "Good. Now, welcome home."

She stands aside and allows the teen to enter the household, e\c eyes widening when she sees the interior. Along the floor lays a hand-made rug, in the shape of a rectangle with additional ruffles at its edges. To her left is an open entrance to what appears to be a cozy living room, with a pink floral-patterned sofa resting against the wall, and next to it, facing the direction of the front door is an armchair of the same material. A frosted glass coffee table sits in front of them, and underneath it is an oak plank floor. 

Past the living area is a small dining room, with a white table and four chairs slid neatly on each side, and behind that is an antique China cabinet with double doors and several drawers, all of which are see-through and hold various cups, platters, and knick-knacks that have been collected over the years. Straight in front of her is a dark oak staircase, which she remembers to lead up and to the bedrooms and the other bathroom in the comfy home. To her right is a kitchen, with a white, ceramic-tiled floor, a long countertop that twists around the length of the area, excluding the refrigerator, the oven, and the sink.

Hanging overhead is an oven light and cabinets with crystal knobs that she assumes lead to pots, pans, and other dishes to use with cooking and eating. In the center is an island, with a vase of lemon yellow roses and three plates stacked onto one another. 

A scent of honeysuckle wafts up into her nose, as well as the familiar pineapple casserole that she only recently realized she missed, mixing together and creating a sense of nostalgia. She almost cries from pure joy right then and there. I really did miss this place...

"Make yourself comfortable, dear," Farrah chirps from behind her, giving her a few moments to get used to her new, but familiar, surroundings. "I made pineapple casserole, in case you're hungry. That is still your favorite, right?" Y\n only nods and gives a soft hum in response, stepping farther inside and allowing herself to succumb to the wave of memories that hit her simply by walking through the door.

Her gaze sweeps over everything in awe as she stops in front of the staircase, glancing back at her grandmother almost timidly and speaking up. "Um... where can I stay at?" A flash of realization shimmers in Farrah's eyes before she steps forward and nods her head.

"Ah, yes. You remember your aunt Darcy's old room?" She nods, quickly catching onto what she's referring to. "That is where you can sleep, store your things, anything. I mean, your dad's room is available, too, but I didn't figure you'd want to stay somewhere with all those ugly concert posters and figurines."

"Y-yeah, Aunt Darcy's room will be fine," she replies, turning and beginning her small trek up the dozen or so stairs. The idea of staying in her father's childhood bedroom doesn't sit right in her stomach. "Thank you, Nana."

"Are you sure you don't need any help with your bags?" She questions from below, her soft voice echoing upward and easily extending to Y\n's ears. "They look awfully heavy."

"No, it's okay, I got 'em," she responds, reaching the top stair and taking a moment to navigate the somewhat narrow space before her. Beneath her shoes is a thin white rug that stretches the length of the hallway, to her immediate right is a small polished, wooden table used to place a dainty-looking bouquet of petunias in a glass vase. On her left is a door that's been left slightly ajar, revealing a little bit of the interior to her and reminding her that this is indeed where she's going. 

She uses her free hand to push it open, e\c eyes lighting up when she steps inside of the nostalgic bedroom. The walls are a pristine, rosy pink, the floor is crafted out of ash wood planks and complements the design and hues nicely. In the center side of the room is a bed, made as a sort of cubby hole into the wall and at a straight angle next to a window. Surrounding the bed, built into the wall, are two bookshelves, both on either side and filled with colorful books of varying sizes. 

Beneath the mattress is a long drawer, one of which she remembers to be a trundle bed, as it pulls out and creates another area for a second person to sleep in. Attached to the ceiling above is a set of turquoise sheers, slid to either side of the sleeping niche, and loosely tied to the wall with a thin pair of string. In one of the corners, next to the other window, hangs a basket swing, with two pink pillows placed inside in order to cushion it. To her right is what she recalls to be a closet, the door shut and a shoe organizer gripping onto the top edge of it. Inside the pouches are several pairs of footwear, each separated and easily discernable.

A white, fluffy rug lays spread across the floor, underneath a clothes hamper, a small, cushioned bench, and a cotton bean bag chair. A painted oak desk sits pressed against the wall across from her, with several drawers inside and a stool of the same color pushed neatly beneath it. A reading lamp sits atop the surface, along with a couple of minuscule baskets to hold diverse writing tools, a notebook and binder stacked onto each other, a robin paperweight, and a small mirror. 

She releases an inaudible sigh, allowing the corners of her lips to twitch upward in a content smile as she walks further inside, dropping her bags onto the bed and giving herself a double-take of her temporary bedroom. A giddy sensation forms within her chest; one she hasn't experienced in a number of years, and she quickly realizes that she enjoys it. She turns her head and gazes out the open window, viewing the yard of green grass and colorful flowers below and admiring how the sun's golden rays shine down through the towering trees.

Her stomach suddenly rumbles and only then does she realize that she hasn't had anything to eat since the beginning of the six-hour trip to her grandparents' house, so she understandably feels hungry. Eager to stuff something down her throat and ease her mild sense of famine, she turns on her heel and walks out of the room, heading down the stairs and, once again being greeted by the pleasant scent of the sweet food dish. 

Farrah, who is currently standing in the kitchen, sends Y\n an affectionate smile and motions for her to come in with a wave of her hand. "Hi, dear. Settled in already?" The teenager shakes her head slightly, following the smell and stepping inside.

"Not quite, Nana. I'm hungry, and the thought of eating something this delicious couldn't wait." The woman chuckles in response, grabbing one of the three plates and handing it to Y\n. She takes it in her hands and sends her a grateful look.

"Well, eat all you want. There are mashed potatoes, rolls, and a turkey on the oven." She points to the stove behind her, and Y\n follows her gaze, seeing the white meat sticking out of an old crockpot, the homemade rolls neatly placed on a cooking sheet, and the mashed potatoes scooped into a metal, floral-patterned container. "Just be careful and don't burn yourself. It's still hot." She nearly drools at the sight and nods, hastily making her way over to the food items as her stomach continues speaking to her.

Gripping a large spoon, she dips it into the potatoes and scoops some out and onto her empty plate before leaving the utensil there and moving on to the chicken. She equips a fork and cautiously picks off three or four fair-sized pieces, then grabs a tasty roll of bread, leaving just enough room for her favorite dish. "Geez, Nana," she says, making her way over to the pineapple casserole on the island, "this is a lot of food. If you would've waited, I could have helped you and you wouldn't have had to do it all on your own."

"Honey, don't worry about that. This is something I wanted to do, something special. After all, we haven't seen you in almost six years." As she places a rather large helping of the treat onto her platter, she can't stop the small notion of guilt forming within her chest, though above that lies utter delight. 

I can't believe this woman is Dad's mom. "But..." She begins to butter her roll, glancing at Farrah with slightly furrowed eyebrows. "...you didn't have to do all of this for me. I would've been happy with anythi-"

"Hush, now." She cuts her off, kindness sparkling in her deep brown orbs as she places a gentle hand upon her granddaughter's shoulder. "Thank you for being humble about it. But I promise I wanted to do this. There isn't a need to fret over it. Just enjoy the meal, please." She feels compelled to hug her, again, though ultimately refrains because she doesn't want to accidentally spill her food that Farrah likely spent hours hard at work in the kitchen to make. 

Tears threatening to form in her eyes, she only smiles fondly, her grip on the plate tightening ever so slightly. "O-okay... Thank you." 

"Now go and eat." She gently pushes her in the direction of the living room, an empathetic expression on her aged face. "What do you want to drink?" 

"O-oh, no thanks, Nana, I can get it." Farrah's lips part as if she's about to argue, but Y\n shakes her head and walks over toward the fridge, ultimately silencing her. She opens the door and pulls out a water bottle before lightly shutting it back with her foot and grabbing her plate from off of the counter. "Is Pops eating, already?"

"He is." She nods in confirmation. "And he's waiting for both of us to sit with him."

"Well, I wouldn't wanna disappoint him by not showing up." She allows a small, cheeky grin to form across her face before turning around, walking through the living room, and soon arriving at the dining table, where she sees her grandpa silently eating his own share of the food. She takes a seat across from him and lays her plate and bottle of water in front of her, drawing the attention of the man and causing his gaze to shift up to her. 

"Hello, young lady," he greets affectionately, and she meets his copper-brown eyes. "Getting settled in okay?"

"Yes, sir," she replies with a slight dip of her head. 

"Is it cozy enough for ya? I know you're used to all those fancy items and rich city life, so I'm sorry if it doesn't meet your expectations." Her eyes widen- almost a comical amount- and she looks at him as if he just attempted to behead her. Taking a scoop of mashed potatoes in her spoon, she swiftly shakes her head before taking a bite.

"No, Pops. It does. The country's amazing." She brushes a strand of h\c hair behind her ear and swallows the tasty vegetable. "City life isn't that good. Honestly, I'd rather be here than in some hundred-thousand-dollar penthouse." A large, satisfied smile reaches his wrinkled features, and his eyes crinkle up before he lets out a jolly laugh.

"You hear this, Farrah?" He glances back at the said woman as she enters the dining room, taking her rightful seat to the side of her husband of many years. "This girl's too pure to be tainted. We should keep her here."

A kind grin stretches her lips though she shakes her head nonetheless. "I don't think her parents would approve of that, Phil."

"My parents wouldn't care," Y\n mumbles in response, noticing the sad looks being thrown her way, and she eats a fork-full of pineapple casserole to fill the somewhat tense silence that's fallen over the table. She keeps her eyes trained on the plate in front of her, suddenly finding it much more interesting.

"I'm sure that's not true, sweetie." Farrah's voice is gentle and reassuring. Y\n only shrugs.

"I mean, they never cared, before. Why would they now?" Her tone drops within each word, embarrassment creeping up into her mind and flushing her cheeks a pale tone of b\c. Phil shakes his head disapprovingly while Farrah just stares at her with sympathy. 

"That's shameful," he starts, his voice filled with disdain. "They're your parents, Y\n."

"I know that, you know that. They know that. But they ignore it all the same."

"When did this start, sweetheart?" the old woman questions, taking a sip of her drink. 

"A few years ago. I don't know, really." It's silent for several moments, and Y\n starts wishing she wouldn't have even said anything. Way to ruin the mood, Y\n. Good going, really.

"Hun, they're not... abusing you, or anything, right?" The teenager can sense the hesitancy in her words as if she's afraid to hear the answer, and Y\n is quick to shoot her inquiry down.

"N-no, Nana, don't worry. Nothing like that." She releases an audible huff of air, likely relieved to hear her answer. 

"Do they do anything?" Phil asks, leaning forward slightly and facing his granddaughter with concern. She wracks her brain for a coherent reply. 

"Uh... no, not-not really." She glances up briefly to meet his eyes, trying to mask the hurt in her own but failing. "They hardly even talk to me, anymore. They don't even talk to each other anymore. Dad's always too busy and Mom is..." She swallows, probably a little too hard, and subconsciously starts tapping her foot against the floor lightly; a nervous habit of hers when she feels her anxiety level rising. 

Her mind flashes with images of her mother's phone going off out of nowhere, then her mother's face lighting up whenever she reads whatever message had just been sent. She knows it hasn't ever been her father; he was always there with them when it happened. Her mom hasn't smiled that wide for her husband in a long time. Not to even mention those couple of nights she's caught her sneaking out. When she would ask about it, her mother would snap at her and tell her it's for "business" and then leave without a trace, sometimes not even coming back until the next night.

Her foot makes a soft thump thump thump noise each time it collides with the floor, though her mind blocks it out as she tries to draw herself back into reality. "Um... keeping secrets." Phil and Farah share a brief glance.

"What kind of secrets, darlin'?" her grandfather asks, and her grip tightens on the fork in her hand. 

"I think that, uhm... I think that she's cheating on Dad." She doesn't look up to see the startled expressions on their faces, afraid that they'll judge her and her parents. "I mean, she's been acting really weird, texting people all the time, sneaking out of the house, e-especially at night, and I've caught her before but she just got mad and said it was 'business-related'." She brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Plus, Mom and Dad haven't gone out on a date in years. And I-I don't know, it's just... concerning."

"Sweetie," Farah starts, and Y\n internally winces at the strict tone that her voice adapted, "that isn't good." She only shakes her head in agreement, taking another bite of her food, though finding that her appetite is steadily decreasing. "We need to talk to them about this."

"No," she interjects, finally meeting Farrah's eyes with frightened e\c ones. "They can't know I told you all of this. They-they'll be mad at me and give me all kinds of crap." 

"Are you sure, Y\n?" Phil says, his bushy eyebrows furrowed distaste. "You don't need to be in a house with two people that unstable. We could call them and you could stay with us." Although the thought of staying in a house with her loving grandparents sounds nice, she ultimately refuses by shaking her head, once again and speaking in a quiet voice.

"No, it's okay. Thanks." Despite the fact that her parents don't seem to care about her, anymore, she would most definitely ruin what little of a relationship remains between the three of them if they were to find out about what she told Farrah and Phil, and she doesn't want that. She doesn't want her parents to hate her; that would be a terrible feeling. And she doesn't want to experience it.

The rest of the dinner goes by slowly for the h\c girl, with her grandparents attempting to talk about more light-hearted things in an effort to cheer her up, and it seems to work. They ask her about school, her friends, if she has a boyfriend, yet, which she responds to with valid answers. "It's good", "I don't have friends", and "No". It was making itself more apparent to them within each question she replies to that she isn't living a normal, healthy life. But they figure it'd be best not to pry too much. After all, she's here for a break, not to be bombarded with questions and pity.

She stands with her plate and bottle of water in her hand after finishing the tasty food, pushes the chair back into the table with her foot, and walks past Farrah and toward the kitchen, feeling filled-up and tired. Her gaze averts to one of the windows, able to see the orange and pink mixture in the sky through the leaves of the trees, signifying that the sun is beginning to set below the horizon and darkness would soon replace its blaze of light. 

"Marshmallow is probably waiting outside, if you want to let him in for the night," the elderly woman calls from the dining room as Y\n puts her dishes in the sink and proceeds to rinse them off under warm water. Thinking about seeing the furry feline after such a long time causes her heart to skip in excitement, and she nods, knowing Farrah won't be able to see it.

"Okay, Nana." She finishes washing the porcelain and silverware and places them in the plastic drainer resting on the countertop, right beside the sink, before walking perhaps a little quicker than normal, unlocking the front door and gently swinging it open, being greeted by the warm summer air and the flowers swaying in the soft breeze.

She glances around the small porch, and can't help but quirk her lips up in a smile when she lays her eyes on the white and grey cat sitting on an old chair, swiping his paw over his face in order to clean himself. He looks up at her curiously, and she approaches slowly to avoid scaring him.

"Marshmallow? You remember me?" She sticks her hand out and allows him to sniff her fingers before affectionately rubbing his head. "It's Y\n. I haven't been here in a while."

He stands and lets out a small meow, rubbing against her palm and enjoying the affection he's recieving. She moves forward and wraps her arms around him, deeming it safe enough, and lifts him up to bring him inside. He bumps his head against her shoulder and she can hear the distinct sound of purring, a sound she hasn't heard in years. 

"Aww," she coos, unable to stop herself from fawning over the furry creature. "I missed you, too, little buddy." She turns, walks back into the house, and shuts the door carefully behind her, nearly walking right into Farrah as she goes into the kitchen, holding two plates and a glass of what holds just a few droplets of her drink.

She takes notice of Y\n and grins slightly at the sight. "Ah, see? We told you he'd remember you." The girl scratches Marshmallow under his chin, eliciting another meow of content from his mouth. His tail swishes and lightly hits her in the arm, making her chuckle. 

"Yeah. He's just as soft as I remember, too. And cuddly." As she says this, she hugs him closer to her chest, and Farrah smiles fondly as she places the plates into the sink. "Do you need help cleaning up?"

"No, thank you, hun." She parts her lips to object, but Farrah shakes her head. "You just spend some time with the fur baby. Maybe unpack, I know you didn't have time to, before." Y\n feels Marshmallow begin to struggle against her hold, so she bends down and loosens her grip, allowing him to jump to the floor and sprint to some area on the first floor, presumably his food bowl. 

"Are you sure? You've already done so much work already-"

"I can't believe you're the spawn of my son," she says, chuckling and wiping down the surface of a saucer. "It'll be fine, sweetie. I've got it covered. You go and relax." Y\n figures that as stubborn as she is, her grandmother is much more so and it won't do her any good to argue with her. Letting out a sigh, she grabs her water bottle from where she laid it on the island in the center of the kitchen and hesitantly ambles in front of the staircase.

"Okay... but, tell me if you need help?"

"Stop worrying. You're the guest here." Without another word, she heads up to her temporary bedroom, unknowingly being followed by a certain feline, and sets her bottle on the desk before grabbing her duffle bag, unzipping it, and taking out clothing piece by clothing piece. As she twists to walk to the closet, she stumbles over Marshmallow, who was in the process of rubbing against her leg and just barely catches her balance before falling on the poor cat. 

It takes a short moment to calm herself and get over the sudden adrenaline rush that floods her system, but once she does, she scoffs but smirks nonetheless. "Trying to trip me, already?" She reaches down and scratches his head, and he momentarily stands on his back feet as a response. "Silly cat."

She makes as few trips as possible hanging up her clothes in the small walk-in closet and putting things like undergarments and pants inside of the shelf of drawers that stands at the opposite end of the door, realizing that the space doesn't have a lot of her aunt's old clothes inside, anymore.

Nana probably put them in storage or something.

When she's done unpacking, sorting through, and putting everything away, she lifts her now-empty duffle bag and sets it down beside the desk. She decides against taking out the supplies from her backpack, partly because she's getting consistently sleepier, and partly because she feels a little odd getting comfortable here that quickly. 

Marshmallow found a bed on the cozy-looking beanbag during the early stages of unpacking and is now sleeping rather soundly, his body curled in around itself as his shoulders gently rise and fall within each breath he takes. She strokes his cheek tenderly with her index finger, admiring his ivory and light grey fur that graces his small frame. She can barely remember the last time she had pet an animal of any kind because it was so long ago, and many things have happened since then, causing her to force nice memories into the back of her mind and focus on the grim things in her life.

Sitting on the bed, her gaze trails out the window, where the sun has almost completely vanished and a full, bright moon now replaces it, dozens of stars beginning to litter the sky, all surrounding the miraculous white orb. I never get a view like this from the city.

She can't help but admire the scenery and feel a trace of disappointment that she hasn't seen more of it. All because of her selfish parents. She leans her head against the windowpane and stares up, mixed emotions making her feel conflicted. But she assures herself that it will be fine. She will be fine. Everything will work out in the end.

I sure hope so...