#Types of venture capital

[vander-12]

What is venture capital and how does it work?

By Kelly Knickerbocker Whether you’re booking accommodations through VRBO, grilling up a plant-based burger from Impossible Foods or purchasing groceries through Instacart, you use services and products from venture capital-backed companies every day. Yet people not working in the industry are unlikely to know much about this dynamic, active and evolving world. Even though the global capital…

[joeygoldy]

Useful Tips for Becoming a Successful Agriculture Investor

Agriculture investment refers to the allocation of financial resources, capital, or assets into various aspects of the agricultural sector with the expectation of generating a return on investment (ROI). This could mean investing monies in agriculture land for sale such as coconut land for sale in Sri Lanka, or other types of investments. It involves deploying funds in activities and projects related to agriculture for the purpose of profit, income generation, or long-term wealth creation. Agriculture investment can take many forms, including:

Farmland Acquisition: Purchasing agricultural land for the cultivation of crops or the raising of livestock. This can involve both large-scale and small-scale farming operations.

Infrastructure Development: Investing in the construction and improvement of infrastructure such as irrigation systems, roads, storage facilities, and processing plants to enhance agricultural productivity and efficiency.

Technological Advancements: Funding the development and adoption of agricultural technologies, such as precision agriculture, automation, and biotechnology, to improve crop yields and reduce operational costs.

Agribusiness Ventures: Investing in agribusinesses, such as food processing, distribution, and marketing, that are part of the agricultural value chain.

Research and Development: Supporting research initiatives related to agriculture to develop new crop varieties, pest-resistant strains, and sustainable farming practices.

Input Supply: Investing in the production and distribution of agricultural inputs like seeds, fertilisers, pesticides, and machinery.

Commodity Trading: Speculating on the future prices of agricultural commodities, such as grains, oilseeds, and livestock, through commodity markets or futures contracts.

Sustainable Agriculture: Funding practices and projects aimed at sustainable and environmentally responsible farming methods, which can include organic farming, agroforestry, and conservation efforts.

Rural Development: Supporting initiatives that improve the overall economic and social well-being of rural communities, often through investments in education, healthcare, and infrastructure.

Venture Capital and Start-ups: Investing in start-ups and companies focused on innovations in agriculture, such as vertical farming, aquaculture, or agricultural technology (AgTech).

Agriculture investment is important for food security, economic development, and job creation in many regions. However, it also comes with risks related to weather conditions, commodity price fluctuations, and market dynamics. Investors often conduct thorough research and risk assessments before committing their resources to agricultural ventures. Additionally, they may need to consider factors like government policies, environmental regulations, and social impacts on their investment decisions in the agricultural sector.

How to become a successful agriculture investor

Becoming a successful agriculture investor requires a combination of financial acumen, agricultural knowledge, and a strategic approach to investment. Here are some steps to help you become a successful agriculture investor:

Educate Yourself: Gain a strong understanding of the agricultural sector, including the different sub-sectors (crops, livestock, agribusiness, etc.). Stay updated on industry trends, market conditions, and emerging technologies.

Set Clear Investment Goals: Define your investment objectives, whether it is long-term wealth creation, income generation, or diversification of your investment portfolio.

Risk Assessment: Understand and assess the risks associated with agriculture investments, such as weather-related risks, market volatility, and regulatory changes, whether you are looking at land for sale or any other type of investment.

Develop a Diversified Portfolio: Diversify your investments across different agricultural sectors and geographic regions to spread risk.

Market Research: Conduct thorough market research to identify promising investment opportunities and potential demand for agricultural products.

Build a Network: Establish connections with farmers, agricultural experts, government agencies, and industry stakeholders who can provide insights and opportunities.

Financial Planning: Create a budget and financial plan that outlines your investment capital, expected returns, and cash flow requirements.

Select the Right Investment Type: Choose the type of agriculture investment that aligns with your goals, whether it is farmland, agribusiness ventures, or agricultural technology.

Due Diligence: Conduct comprehensive due diligence on potential investments, including assessing the quality of farmland, the financial health of agribusinesses, and the technology's potential for scalability and profitability.

Sustainable Practices: Consider investments in sustainable and environmentally responsible agriculture practices, as they are gaining importance in the industry.

Risk Management: Implement risk management strategies, such as insurance, to protect your investments from unforeseen events like natural disasters or crop failures.

Continuous Learning: Stay informed about changes in the agricultural industry and adapt your investment strategy accordingly.

Legal and Regulatory Compliance: Understand and comply with local, national, and international regulations and tax laws that may impact your agriculture investments.

Monitor and Adjust: Regularly review the performance of your investments and be prepared to make adjustments or exit underperforming ones.

Long-Term Perspective: Agriculture investments often require a long-term perspective, so be patient and avoid making impulsive decisions based on short-term market fluctuations.

Seek Professional Advice: Consult with financial advisors, agricultural experts, and legal professionals to ensure that your investments are structured and managed effectively.

Successful agriculture investment often involves a mix of financial expertise, industry knowledge, and a willingness to adapt to changing conditions. It is important to approach agriculture investment with a well-thought-out strategy, and to be prepared for both opportunities and challenges in this sector.

[educationisimp0]

Hedge funds can be considered a complicated form of investment and a risky alternative choice mandated by a high minimum investment or net worth.

[global-insights]

What is a Hedge Fund? Examples, Types, Strategies Explained

This article provides a comprehensive overview of hedge funds, including their definition, types, examples, and investment strategies. It explains how hedge funds differ from other investment vehicles, such as mutual funds and private equity funds, and how they can offer higher returns and greater risks to investors. The article also covers various hedge fund strategies, such as long/short equity, global macro, event-driven, and relative value, and how they work to generate profits for investors. Overall, this resource serves as an informative guide for anyone seeking to understand the basics of hedge funds and their role in the investment world.

Visit: https://us.sganalytics.com/blog/what-is-a-hedge-fund-examples-types-strategies-explained/

[mcromwell]

AI shit is artificially inflated to appear like "the future", "the way of the future", "new standard" etc.

Remember a couple years ago who was saying the same type of shit?

Crypto bros.

Remember all the companies that adopted NFTs and crypto payment options from the hype? Compare that to the state of crypto now.

Brands are easily swayed by smooth talking tech nerds looking to make a lot of money fast and then split when the tech ends up not performing as well as advertised or too expensive to sustain long term. Or when the public gets bored. They got bored of NFTs, it wouldn't surprise me if AI generated shlock becomes solely synonymous with bootlegs and the companies already producing cheap crap.

This article goes into it a bit more, here's a quote.

"Would it surprise you to learn that OpenAI is also not making any money, and relies on investments from venture capital to stay in the black? Because they are not making any money and rely on investments to stay in black. Part of this is because of the technology itself: according to Microsoft, which has invested $13 billion into OpenAI, they lose money each time a user makes a request using their AI models."

Stay strong, y'all. I'm not saying this tech isn't harmful (it is super harmful) but the situation is not hopeless.

[qwimchii]

𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 (pt. 6) — 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

playlist pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5 pt. 6 pt. 7 pt. 8 (10/24)

𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘧!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵'𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘸, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘤 — 13.1k

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵!𝘢𝘶, 141𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘨!𝘢𝘶, 𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 (10𝘺𝘳𝘴), 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 & 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, p. in v, 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘫𝘰𝘣, 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬 (𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘢?), 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 😵‍💫, 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘬 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯

note: i really hope this isn’t too angsty and confusing? also i noticed the atrocious amount of typos i had in the last part and holy moly... hopefully this one had less because i very lightly proofread it 😭 but if it does i am sorry (im really lazy about proofreading help 😵‍💫)….

two months later

you had not talked to Simon for two weeks. you had not even seen him for days.

the last time you did, it was late at night in the office.

most nights, just like days ago, you were up late working, rain pelting against the window where you typed at your desk, just the irregular patter of rain filling the empty office and the quick clatter of the character keys beneath your fingers. there was a sharp ache in your shoulders and you sighed, rolling them back and wincing at the cracks along your spine. 

rolling your head back, you looked at the desk beside your own—painfully empty in the dim lighting.

as promised, one-four-one had filled the gaping power chasm within the western frontier, shifting headquarters to the capital of the west and buying several properties on every key corner of the sprawling city—much like the brand new townhouse you called an office. 

not many rival gangs had stood up to the power shift because they couldn’t. widespread federal crackdowns had swept through the city. the anonymity of one-four-one had still been preserved—though over time, you had grown to doubt that—and one-four-one had won the war.

it didn’t feel like it though. it felt like you were in hiding all over again, but not from Turner’s men. it was the law this time.

now, at least, one-four-one disclosed all business endeavors to you.

you poured over their financial bookings. Simon had grumbled about it, saying something like it was dangerous for you to be so involved, but it didn’t matter much anyway. you were their main operation of business now, and all ordeals went through you… and your father’s saloon chain.

Kate implored, with the heat of the law breathing down one-four-one’s back, that they needed a legal guise for their illegal ventures. and you offered the saloon chain as an outlet so long that  you would remain the major shareholder.

one-four-one had agreed and Simon, albeit grudgingly, with a grumpy disposition, had agreed.

but establishing a saloon in every town, city, and borough of one-four-one’s proved to be difficult, making Simon busy and you even busier.

eyes darting back down to the empty desk, you missed the vacant absence by your side nonetheless. rubbing at your face, you decided to call it quits, reaching over to turn off the lamp at your desk. the room plunged into darkness, and only the murky light of the moon seeped through the window.

a chill swept through the place and you couldn’t help but shiver, swiping away all papers and materials into the filing cabinet beside your desk when there was a knock at the back door of the office.

“who is it?” you called, sliding the drawers shut and wiping your palms against your dress.

when there was no response, you paused, craning your neck to peer at the door. through the opaque glass, you could make out a tall, shadowed figure at the door.

sighing, you snatched a revolver from your purse, cocking it just in case, and strode over to the door to twist it open.

“business hours are closed—” you began, looking up to the tall figure in the entrance, breath hitching when you saw a familiar scarred face.

Simon looked tired—more tired than you remembered him after two weeks. maybe older too, you worried, watching the downpour roar of rain slip off his trench coat. he just watched you with quiet eyes and a blank expression, swaying slightly in the doorway, which only worried you more.

“Simon—” you said, voice pinched as you reached out to him, then muffled a yelp when he suddenly lurched forward and pressed his wet body to yours.

your hand was still outstretched when he curled into you, big body bent down to wrap around your waist and pull you flush to him.

“missed you,” his whispered, pressing his nose into your neck, then kissing there. the water seeping through your dress made you shiver and he rubbed at your sides, like he was trying to warm you.

an overwhelming crash of confusion wracked you. Simon wasn’t due to be back for a while. at least a few more weeks. nonetheless, you twisted your hands into his clothes, amazed to find him solid and real in front of you.  

“Simon. why are you here—?”

he pulled back from your neck and suddenly pressed his lips to yours, the kiss cold and wet from the rain, his stetson tipping off his head when he angled his head to kiss you deeper, messier, his teeth knocking into yours as his tongue dipped through your lips.

you muffled a squeak, trying to match the fast movements with your own, curling your arms around his neck and letting the revolver clatter to the floor. when his tongue brushed against yours, there was a rich and bitter taste in your mouth, and you gasped. alcohol.

you pressed against his chest and he pulled back with a disgruntled noise, frowning, before trying to kiss you again. but you pushed him away by his jaw and his frown only deepened.

“why?” he asked softly, brows furrowed. 

you rubbed his chest, quelling the hurt look on his face to melt away.

“you’re drunk, Si,” you whispered back before gently tugging him towards the vacant chair in the office.

when he sat in it, the chair groaning under his weight, he tried to pull you onto his lap, fingers curling around the back of your thighs and tugging you forward. when you didn’t budge, he huffed, and jerked you forward with enough force that you fell into his lap with a yelp.

“Simon—!”

he curled you up into his lap, snaking an arm around your waist and the other up your chest, hand gripping at your shoulder to keep you locked against him. with a sigh, you let it happen, smoothing your dress free of its wrinkles Simon had just created. his eyes lazily followed the movement, nose pressed into your cheek and hot breath against your skin.

“pretty dress,” he remarked, squeezing you tightly. you just rolled your eyes.

you were about to give him a sarcastic quip when, voice deceptively soft, he asked, “why are you avoiding me?”

the breath left your lungs, and you went very still.

when you didn’t give a verbal response, Simon shifted beneath you, just winding around you tighter.

“supposed to be my wife,” he said, forehead sinking into your neck. his voice was so somber that you had to stifle a laugh of disbelief.

“you haven’t even proposed,” you reminded him. he just grumbled something you couldn’t hear, words smothered against your skin.

you didn’t know why you were avoiding him. 

Soap had told you—very briefly during one-four-one’s inhabitation of san francisco—that it gets worse before it gets better. he had said it so briefly that you hadn’t know what he meant, didn’t really think it meant anything, until your life resumed in a new bustling city that felt impossible to get accustomed to.

now you know exactly what he meant. swallowing hard, you willed the thoughts away, burying them under a thick layer of bitter denial that Simon sniffed out like a hound.

“marry me then,” he offered, and you pinched the skin of his wrist.

“no. you’re not proposing to me while you’re drunk.”

he huffed out. “why not?”

you ignored him. “why were you drinking?”

when he was silent for a long moment, you smothered a smile of victory, feeling like you had won for some stupid reason.

then, he grumbled out quietly, “you were ignorin’ me.”

the smile slid from your face.

after a pause, you hiked up your dress, uncaring for indecency when you twisted in his hold, hooking your thighs around his in the chair. he gripped your hips tightly, looking up at you with hooded eyes. the small, unpleasant twist of his lips soured any warm feeling in your chest.

“m’not ignoring you,” you said softly, reaching up to brush the tangle of his blonde hair from his brow. his hair was getting too long now—the close shave on the sides of his head shaggy and unkempt.

he looks pretty anyway, you decided dreamily, kissing his forehead gently. his hands slid up to your waist, gripping you tighter.

“feels like it,” he grumbled and you suppressed a smile.

“sorry,” you said, the ache in your chest only swelling when you noticed the crestfallen look in his dark eyes.

“i’ve been busy,” you admitted, rubbing a comforting hand over his chest.

he just pulled you closer, forehead knocking against your shoulder. his hands crept up to your upper back now, clutching at your dress.

“so have you,” you pointed out.

he mulled in silence, hands sliding back down your torso, a shiver wracking you in his hold. then, he dropped his hands to your legs, fingers brushing over your legs as he edged up your dress, hands sliding beneath the fabric to play with the hem of your drawers. the leather of his gloves was cool against your skin.

“Simon,” you chided, blushing when his fingertips slithered beneath the fabric.

“missed you,” he reiterated, grip firm on your upper thighs as he pulled you tight against his hips. the blush bloomed across your ears and neck when you felt his hard arousal beneath his pants.

“not in my office,” you hissed, and he grumbled.

“you were gonna shoot me,” he complained, picking his head up to glare at the revolver that lay forgotten across the carpet floor, just by Simon’s fallen stetson.

you rolled your eyes. “i was not gonna shoot you.”

“you should make it up to me,” he interjected, voice a seductive, low rumble.

with another roll of your eyes, you swatted at him, pulling off his lap despite the string of expletive protests that left his lips.

you knew him too well to be fooled by his manipulative seductive tendencies. instead, you gathered your items and your purse, ignoring his big, sukling body beside yours. when he tugged at your dress, and you ignored him again, he made a sad noise.

upon observing the dark cloud of disapproval that roiled off his body, and the deep scowl on his face, you promised, “later Si.”

at that, he perked up, looking hopeful as he followed you to the back door of the office. you picked up your revolver on the floor and shoved it in your purse. opening the door to the pouring rain outside, you sighed, wishing you had an umbrella as you craned your neck out into the night.

instead, Simon picked up his stetson from the floor and pushed it onto your head. it was too big on you and tipped forward, concealing your vision of the city streets. at that, he huffed a laugh and drew you closer, hitching up his coat so that you were tucked beneath his arm and the flap of his trench coat.

“lead the way, lovely,” he said, voice tinged with an amused lilt as you frowned, tilting his hat back so that you could see as he led you down the little steps from the office and out onto the street—bound for his horse by the cobbled sidewalk, the black stallion stomping in the rain. bound for home.

looking over at Simon whose eyes were trained ahead, you took in his content, handsome profile with a greediness, only realizing just then how much you had missed him. down to the very bones of your body, you had missed him. 

just then, you couldn’t help but feel that you were already at home in his arms.

but that was days ago.

Soap had ridden into the city with a panic that same night, roving around to find that blonde brute of yours, he had explained in the comforts of your new, big apartment. the third place he had looked was your home, and you had tried to hide the flush of your skin behind the cup of tea you sipped.

he had explained that Simon had gone home prematurely without a notice, too drunk to reason through with things. too drunk to be able to quell how much he missed you.

with a sinking feeling, you had come to acknowledge with a tinge of guilt just how much you had been neglecting him. not that it was your responsibility to take care of him in the first place. you weren’t married.

though, after everything, that didn’t seem to matter at all. you were completely his anyway.

with a wince, you couldn’t help but wonder, was he yours as well? could you even dare to wonder if your relationship was an equal give and take? if it was anything more than a silent power imbalance?

eyes darting from Soap to your open bedroom door, you eyed the large lump beneath the blankets of your bed. you hadn’t even done anything upon arrival at your home. you had pushed him toward the bedroom and he had sunk down into the mattress, exhausted from his long ride to san francisco, and promptly fell asleep, thoroughly soaking your sheets.

you had let him sleep, content to lay flush by his side and tangled in his wet embrace, till there was a pounding on your door. you had opened it to find Soap dripping with water and looking just as tired as the hulking man who slept in your bed.

and there you were on the living room sofas with Soap, sipping tea as he explained that they needed to go back and finish taking care of things in arizona and mexico. then they would be home bound again. it was a promise.

once the sun crested the sky along the horizon, you gently shook Simon awake, looking confused and sleepy in the morning light.

he had gone without much reluctance—much more sober than the night before. a composed stoicism overtook him again and he was curt in his goodbye. so curt it made your heart ache.

he could barely look at you, brushing his gloved fingers gently against your cheek in a brief reminder of his deep, lingering affection, before he disappeared with Soap out your apartment. the only remnant of him was your drenched sheets and the soft smell of smoky ash and woods against them.

this was how it had been for months. it gets worse before it gets better, Soap had said to you when things had grown tense between you and Simon. you were managing a business. he was managing the entire western frontier through the business you managed.

was marriage an option anymore?

your mind chanted a quiet reminder that it wouldn’t be long before one-four-one would be in san francisco permanently. Simon’s stoic presence would be more resolute and then maybe, maybe, you could do something about it.

there were nights when you caved when he was home, staying just across the hall from your apartment, knocking at his door and desperate for his touch on your skin. he would always relent, picking you up and throwing you onto his bed, crawling over you and setting your whole body alight with sensual touches and long, breathless kisses as he fucked you through several earth shattering orgasms that had your nails scratching down his back, hands twisting his hair, sometimes biting down on his shoulder to try and quell the overwhelming pleasure of it.

you’d roll in the sheets for hours, tangled together until the sun came up after a long, pleasurable and sweaty night. there were always bruises left along your skin, a darkened splotchy purple against your hips where his had slammed into you over and over, making you see stars.

there were nights when he’d do the same. you remembered opening the door to him—half-naked and his bare, muscled torso on display, a scarred, discolored twist of skin over the side of his chest and shoulder that matched the skin of your own arm. there was always a tinge of plea in his voice, of desperation, as he edged you into your own apartment and you always, always relented.

you remembered being down on your knees for him for the first time, throat swollen and tight as he eased his cock down your throat, a gentle hand in your hair.

“thas’ it,” he had praised, voice slurred as he guided you through the unusual motion. your head slid up and down his thick, hot length that pulsed in your mouth, sucking him with closed eyes.

“look at me,” he had commanded, thumb pressing against your cheek and you had fluttered your eyes up at him, head feeling light and airy from the lack of oxygen circulating in your system.

“fuck,” he choked out, head tipping back at the sight of you, so small and obedient between his thighs.

it was just like this every time—mind blowing and unforgettable. content in his strong arms after every night of intense passion, your cheek pressed to his warm chest and soft, lulling whispers into your ear as he stroked your hair till you fell asleep to his random bursts of rambles about work, one-four-one, and you. soft, loving words about you.

he was always the most talkative those nights. in the morning, he would always be gone, and in the light of day, you’d half ignore each other for fear of…

you didn’t know what you should be fearing but you feared something so strong that you buried yourself in work and allowed yourself to be selfish. trying desperately to forget everything and always failing much to Yue-Yi’s amusement.

damn special privileges, you had hired Yue-Yi as a personal assistant after the majority of brothels had been shut down with the crackdown of law across the west. managing so many of her own personal clients throughout her life, Yue-Yi proved to be adept at organizing your busy schedule and especially adept at keeping you company when one-four-one was gone. when Simon was gone.

she reminded you to take care of yourself when you were overworking. you always countered by saying that one-four-one was working twice as hard, though with the incredulous look she would send you every time, you grew to become unsure of yourself.

and here you were in the present, days since you had “talked” to Simon though his mind seemed to be barely present underneath a veil of intoxication. days since Soap had whisked him back to whatever duties that lay east of san francisco.

you tried to ignore it all, taking long strolls through the park during lunch to avoid the hustle bustle of your office during the busy hours. you preferred to work in silence, but that proved difficult with the growing number of employers that were corralled into your business, no matter how perturbed they thought an unmarried woman as their boss.

you heard their gossips and whispers. they thought you were hiding a secret marriage with the prophesied ceo from them. Simon Riley. little did they know, their ceo was actually you. you didn’t have the heart to tell them that they were wrong and allowed them to continue thinking you were some favored personal assistant of Simon—just a typist and nothing more.

you only let a few men—vaqueros who knew good english with proficient math and business skills—into your secret, pressing real business matters to carry out into their hands. they never questioned it, and whether it was a command from Alejandro or not, you thought of them as amiable acquaintances.

the fall leaves littered the path in the park on this day, your hands clasped behind your back as you observed the sun flecked surroundings. a husband and wife ambled through the grass as their children trailed behind, throwing up colorful leaves into the air with pitched laughter. immediately, you looked away from the sight.

that’s when you spotted a familiar man staring at you, splayed across a nearby bench in a fancy three-piece suit and ginger hair fiery in the sunlight.

you stopped in your tracks.

“Konig?” you choked, slowly edging toward him. he tipped his head to you with a smile that smothered something strange in his pale green eyes.

“pleasant to see you little lady.”

your mouth opened and closed and you would’ve sat by him if it weren’t for the thrumming, ominous instinct in you to stay away.

and you did just that, stopping a comfortable distance from the big man, his eyes never leaving you as he took a swing from a flask before tucking it back into the breast pocket of his suit.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, dismayed, wondering if you were hallucinating it out of your own loneliness.

he ruffled his hair, smile lopsided but eyes still flat and dead and cold. Konig had disappeared on the move into san francisco. he would reappear every one and a while, poking around in your business and checking on your well-being before disappearing all over again. it was frustrating and left you beyond confusion.

it left Simon seething because Konig would conveniently pop up in the midst of a random, bustling street, tell you with joy that he was staying just around the corner of your new apartment and make Simon sulk at the very sight of the austrian man.

“my employers in Austria,” he said with a tilted head, “they want me to stay in san francisco for business.”

your mind spun. business? assassin business?

your throat ran dry. “you won’t kill Simon, will you?” 

the smile on his face was malicious.

“i already tried,” he said slowly, and you suppressed a shiver, remembering when Kate had told you that Konig had left Simon for dead in that fire but took you with him. saved your life.

“that british boy,” Konig said, brow furrowed like he was concentrating hard, “i do not like him, Engel.”

you sighed out, rubbing at your temple. “i know, Konig.”

when Konig only kept staring at you in silence, you decided to probe him with questions. “where have you been?”

you were surprised by the hurt in your voice. his brows only rose slightly. “san francisco—”

“what have you been doing?” you interjected, twisting your hands in your dress.

he stared at you for a long moment. “business.”

his voice dropped an octave. “and watching you.” then, he rephrased, “watching you and Ghost.”

you wrinkled your nose. not ominous at all.

“you care about him,” he observed lightly, looking away from you. a frown twitched at his lips and you sighed, gaining the courage to sit on the very opposite edge of the bench. though with his sheer size, he took up more than half of it, his arm splayed out over the back and his fingers pressed against your shoulder when you leaned back to look up at the clear, crisp sky.

“i do,” you confirmed, and he shifted beside you, picking up his hand to play with the ends of your hair.

“why? he’s an insufficient boy,” he grumbled and you couldn’t help the smile on your lips. you had never heard someone describe Simon as a boy, though sometimes, you couldn’t help but feel the same.

“i am an insufficient girl sometimes,” you countered, surprised when Konig shook his head.

“i have always seen you for what you are, Engel.” his pale green eyes flitted from your hair up to your eyes.

“capable.”

at that, you swallowed hard, but he continued on. “i want to stay in america. for you, little american.”

quickly, you countered, “you didn’t know me before, Konig.”

he shook his head again. “i don’t need to.”

there was a dizzying panic that rose in your chest. 

“i’m not innocent,” you practically hissed, pinning him with your most intense gaze that he easily held. “i have mental issues. i don’t know who i am or what i want. i just want…”

your voice faltered. “Simon.”

then, you whispered so quietly that you almost couldn’t hear yourself, “i love him.”

the admittance of it was like a weight that slid off your shoulders, and you gasped a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Konig had gone very stiff beside you, a pure look of something dark and angry twisting his face before it was swept away. he took his arm from you, letting your hair drop against your shoulders, sighing as he looked away.

“i don’t get it,” he grumbled.

you could only agree. “i don’t either.”

after a long moment of silence, Konig stood from the bench and whirled around on his heels, hands in his pockets and an easy smile on his face, though you could see the strain in his eyes.

“no matter. this will be the last time you see me, Engel.”

“i doubt that,” you said bitterly and his smile only grew.

“you are a business woman,” he said carefully, giving you a slight bow, “i am sure we will do business later in life.”

i’m counting on it, you thought, but didn’t voice as he turned on his heel and strode out the park with a confident step. your heart shrunk with every step he took. maybe you cared about him more than you realized.

you winced, trying to imagine how you would tell Simon about this strange encounter. then, you corrected yourself, reminding yourself that you actually didn’t need to tell him anything at all.

“excuse me!” a voice called from afar, and you turned to see Yue-Yi standing at the edge of the park, hands balled up by her side.

at the sight of her, a smile crept up to your face as she impatiently tapped at her wrist. 

“you’re late for a meeting,” she hissed as you strode over. with a nasty look, she whirled around to trudge toward the office with a huff. 

you looked back at Konig one last time, towering as he weaved around people who glanced at him with a wariness.

when he didn’t look back, you hurried to catch up with Yue-Yi, a strangled laugh escaping you when she quickened, throwing a mischievous look over her shoulder as you chased her up the steps to the office.

the meetings went smoothly. as usual. most of Turner’s men had been decimated or scattered, lost to the winds as they left western gang life for a mundane one. few changed sides to work for one-four-one. there wasn’t much threat to your livelihood now, especially now that there was a legal outlet for illegal activities. you implored one-four-one to set up a horse race betting system within each saloon—semi-discrete and something local law enforcers were a part of from time to time…

the rest of the day continued to go smoothly till it was late in the evening, nearing dinnertime, when you passed Yue-Yi typing at her desk. gathering the necessary papers she typed up, one paper by her typewriter caught your eye. 

familiar, obnoxiously loud handwriting in all caps lined the top, addressed to YUE-YI from SIMON RILEY. you immediately picked it up, eyes darting over the paper, just reading the first few, formal sentences when Yue-Yi snatched it from your hand.

“didn’t anyone ever tell you it was rude to read someone else’s letters without permission?” she said with a scowl, wagging a finger at you.

you ignored her, reaching for the letter but she leaned back, crumpling it into a ball in her hand.

“Yue-Yi,” you whined, and she just rolled her eyes with a little smile.

“what is this about?” you probed, endlessly curious as to why Simon had written to Yue-Yi.

and not you, a slither of a whisper spoke in your mind. you grimaced. in all fairness, you never wrote to him either.

mulling by the edge of her desk, Yue-Yi sighed at the sight of you, lost and confused, as she resumed her work and lined up a fresh piece of paper at the typewriter.

“one-four-one is coming back tonight.”

you balked. “tonight?”

she shrugged. “Ghost addressed the information to me several days ago. the letter did not arrive till this morning. we will dine together at six o’clock.”

checking the clock on the opposite of the room, you bristled.

“it’s half past six, Yue-Yi,” you gritted out between a clenched jaw.

she stopped her incessant typing, giving you a brief glance full of impatience. “your meetings didn’t end till half past six.”

you groaned with frustration, stomping back into your office and moving past Simon’s vacant desk without even a glance at it—a bad habit that you had developed to somehow will him to return quicker.

not this quick, you lamented in your head, rifling through the wardrobe (for special occasions just like this) by your desk, undressing in your personal bathroom with quivering hands.

someone knocked on the door politely, a three beat rhythm you recognized as Yue-Yi, and with huff you tugged it open, not sparing her a glance out of your own frustration. she closed the door behind her softly, moving closer to undo the back of your dress for you.

you wasted no time to pin up your hair, eyes darting to hers through the mirror, flushing to find her gaze already pinned on you.

with a grumble, you complained under your breath, “how could you do this to me.”

she lightly smiled, helping you pull on the fine gown, exposing your neck and a glimmer of your collarbones.

“i knew you would’ve ran away if i told you weeks ago.”

grimacing, you chose not to say anything, remembering how you had done the same a couple months prior. but it was just once—Simon had written to you saying that he would be in town for the night, and you had written him back saying you were just too busy that night.

it was a lie. 

oh how the tides had changed between the devil and his angel. it wasn’t out of your own revenge, but the gnawing fear wracking your bones and those simmering, painful questions running circles in your mind.

could Simon ever be yours?

it just wasn’t so simple anymore. maybe it never was.

Yue-Yi hummed softly as she pulled your corset tighter for good measure and buttoned up the back of your dress, smoothing it over before giving you a hug from behind.

“you look divine,” she said as you pulled silk gloves up your forearms.

“thank you,” you squeaked with a flush. she patted your sides before opening the door for you like a proper gentleman.

you curtsied for her and rolled her eyes, smacking your backside on your way out of the office as you squealed, and she laughed when you rubbed at your ass that stung beneath your gown.

moving through the townhouse, rooms of the place had been converted into work spaces, lined with desks of busy men with cigarettes between their lips that filled the room with a smoky haze. they paid you no mind as you followed Yue-Yi to the end of the hall, passing by the room of women typists who bid you kind goodbyes and waved as you descended down the spiral steps to the lobby.

there was already a horse and buggy stationed at the sidewalk with an impatient looking coachman, whose eyes darted between you and the watch in his breast pocket.

“do you women not know how to tell time?” he spat, and you gave him a narrowed side glance.

“it would do good on you to remember who your employer is, Mr. Busby.”

“that would be Mr. Riley, miss,” he shot back, opening the door for you nonetheless.

you ignored him but Yue-Yi didn’t.

“and you should remember that the miss is his lady,” she quipped, brow furrowed with a glare as she helped you up into the carriage.

that shut him up, grumbling something under his breath you couldn’t be bothered with as you slid into the leather carriage, Yue-Yi flush at your side as the coachman snapped the reins, horses taking off over the bumpy cobblestone road.

with a sigh, you said to her, “we ought to buy one of those fancy model t’s after today.”

she choked a laugh, clasping her hand with yours as you watched the passing scenery with a smile, though it didn’t last for long, melting from your face with every passing minute—every minute the distance between you and Simon closed.

the one-four-one mansion neared on the twinkling horizon, a good time’s travel from the inner boroughs of the sprawling city, far away enough from commotion where you could hear the soft drag and pulls of the ocean lapping at the shores. the mansion sat just near a cliff overlooking the pacific ocean.

the first night you had stayed for a formal event with important stockholders and other prominent figures involved in the family business, you had laid stock still in the ginormous bed, buried beneath blankets and thick, expensive furs, listening to the lulling roar of the ocean crashing against the cliff rocks through the open windows. a breeze danced through the room, brushing against your cheek so real and strong it felt like skin against your own.

blinking open your eyes, you saw Simon by the edge of the bed, his hand brushing over your cheek and hair in a mess like he had just awoken. without a word, he clambered into your bed, snaking beneath the blankets and pressed to you, bare skin hot to the touch and soaked through with sweat.

some words of concern had left you, some words you had forgotten now as you sat in the carriage, some words he had smothered with a sweet kiss. a kiss that you returned as you pushed him onto his back, shimmying out of your nightgown and undergarments with a practiced ease before straddling him, rolling your hips against him to pull gentle groans from his throat.

you leaned down to pepper kisses over his skin, sucking along his neck and his sharp jaw. then, with an earth shattering reminder of just how strong he is, he tugged your hips up his body till you hovered above his watering mouth, hot breath against your swollen cunt.

with a squeak of confusion, you had gripped at the fluffy pillows above his head, meeting his dark gaze as he pulled your pussy flush to his lips, guiding your hips over his face as he devoured your cunt, suckling your clit into his mouth till you were a shaking, crying mess.

it was strange and felt too dirty but your neediness betrayed you, just wanting more and more of him. even when he flipped you over, pliant and weak from a strong orgasm, and stretched your tight cunt open with his thick cock and low comforting words. 

good girl. my sweet little angel, my sweet little slut. just f’me, all f’me.

you weren’t sure why it always ended up like this exactly—somehow tangled in each other’s bed and desperate for skin against skin, tongue and lips on each other, and his low throaty whispers in your ear that sent you reeling over the edge every time with breathy, pitched whines and his fingers rubbing addictive little circles into your clit.

shivering at the memory with a hot flush of embarrassment, you pressed your thighs together, taking your embroidered fan and flapping it at your face as the coachman drew the carriage up the drive-way to the mansion, the butler and servants lined along the extravagant entrance of the victorian mansion.

just beyond them, one-four-one filed out the doors of the mansion, Soap striding up to the carriage with a loud greeting. the coachman opened the door for you but Soap waved him away, outstretched his hand to you with a rugged smile.

you took it, holding the hem of your dress up as you stepped to the ground.

“yer a sight for sore een, bonnie,” he said with a big grin and you choked a laugh.

“sore what?” you asked as he kissed your hand brusquely, not elaborating as he moved to help Yue-Yi out the carriage as well.

you walked up the steps of the entrance, John and Kate calling out to you in greeting. your eyes darted over Gaz and Simon, looking like a pair of twin statues with the way their arms were crossed over their chests and a stoic look pinched their face.

you bit back a scoff, letting Kate pull you into a soft hug as John looked down at you with an affectionate smile, hands clasped behind his back. turning to Gaz, he gave you a curt nod which you returned.

eyes sliding to Simon’s, his arms dropped to his sides, hands clenching and unclenching, lips parting like he was going to say something, but Yue-Yi materialized at your back in an instant, and his mouth closed, jaw clenched.

“Yue-Yi,” he greeted with a nod. she just tilted her head in response, a menacing scowl twisting her lips.

the look they shared passed something between them that you couldn’t decipher—like a silent argument ensued in the air between them before he let out a low huff, sending you a lingering look, before he followed one-four-one into the mansion.

promptly, you turned to Yue-Yi.

“what was that?” you probed, and she completely ignored you, pushing you into the mansion with an impatient, hushed reminder that you were late.

you bit back your frustration, letting yourself be led by the butler to the banquet table stacked with half-eaten food and empty bottles of whiskey and wine, the vaqueros loud laughter and chatter filling the cavernous dining room. they all stood at your presence, which you protested with a startled squeak, sitting down in an plush chair near the head of the table where John sat, and right beside Simon.

Simon pushed in your chair with an ease, face blank as he plopped in the seat next to you, lacking manners when he leaned an elbow on the table, a tense silence filling the space between you.

desperately, you ignored it, grateful that Yue-Yi flanked your other side, and looked down to the other end where Alejandro, Rudolfo, Kate, and Maria sat, a raucous laughter and chatter ensued. it filled the whole room with an expanding joy that you rode—joining in on a few conversations across the table, hyper aware of the quiet, hulking man beside you sharing low murmurs with John and Gaz.

his hand crept over to the arm of your seat, long fingers hanging off the edge where he rested his forearm, fingertips barely brushing over your thigh. you shot him a look from your peripheral, but he was still braced against his other forearm, leaning over to speak in John’s ear, his face furrowed as he nodded along to Simon’s words.

across the table, Soap piled your plate with food, one hand spooning out generous portions from different platters and the other tipping back a glass of whiskey into his mouth.

with a sheepish laugh, you thanked him, happy to finally have a meal after such a long, exhausting day.

you took a big spoonful of mashed potatoes, chewing happily when a vaquero across the table pointed out you got some on the corner of your lips with a mix of sign language and a couple words in english. embarrassed you swiped at it, but he just laughed, saying something in spanish as he smiled at you.

then, you recognized him—his twinkling brown eyes and gentle smile, tanned skin, dark slick backed hair that parted and curled around his ears. handsome in a soft, pretty way.

“it’s you!” you exclaimed, happy to see a familiar face.

he nodded, pointing to himself. “i am Javier.”

“your name is Javier?” 

he nodded again, then pointed at you. “you are Angel.”

with a blush, you shifted in your seat, changing the subject quickly. “how are you?”

when he looked confused, you tried to rephrase, “how are you feeling? good? bad?”

his let out an ah, eyes twinkling as he leaned forward in his seat. “good.”

then, he tilted his head. “escuche que eres la chica de Ghost. pero ya no lo parece.”

he was looking you up and down. “te ves tan bonita esta noche, Angel.”

his words were hushed, just loud enough so that only you could hear. there was a different, more intimate tone in them that had the heat in your cheeks just thickening.

“what?” you choked and his smile only widened.

you looked to Yue-Yi beside you, locked in conversation with someone on her other side, growing uncomfortable under the vaquero’s curious, lingering gaze.

you had thought that no one had heard when a strong arm had curled around your waist, dragging your entire chair across the floor with a screech so you were flush to his side.

“¿todavia parece que no es mia cabron?” Simon’s words were a low snarl that carried through the room and cut through the end of the other table. immediately, the room quieted, and Alejandro’s eyes darted up from his conversation, the smile melting off his face.

with a deadly amount of leisure, Simon threw his revolver on the table, eyes a glare full of challenge at Javier. you stared at the hard lines of his face and panicked, knowing he’d hold to whatever word he had just delivered if it was something as trivial as his male ego being threatened. especially if he thought you were being threatened.

when Javier reached for his own revolver beneath the table, you threw up a hand, standing to shield Simon.

“wait—!”

but Alejandro beat you to it. “Javier.”

Javier looked down the table at his leader that stood, hunched over and knuckles pressed against the table. Alejandro shook his head lightly, and Kate heaved a sigh, her cutlery clattering against her plate as she put them down.

“here they go again,” she grumbled distantly, blue eyes flashing when they met yours.

after a long pause, Javier finally leaned back into his chair with a huff, then turned his gaze to you once more.

“debo haberme equivocado. lo siento Angel.”

the smile on his face was deceptively soft, eyes never leaving your wide ones as he spoke, and Simon’s grip only tightened on your waist.

“Javier,” Alejandro repeated, sounding impatient, though Javier’s gaze on you was unflinching.

for a long, terrible, twisted moment, you watched Simon’s hand twitch by his revolver before it curled into a fist, and he sat back against his chair with a thud and a low grunt. finally, Javier looked away, and you sunk back into your chair, gasping a breath you didn't know you were holding.

at that, Alejandro straightened and held a bottle of whiskey up into the air with a smile.

“no need to fight my brothers and sisters. we’re here to celebrate our victory, vaqueros and vaqueras!”

at that, the table cheered and resumed its festivities, retopping their drinks with a tipsy hand so that their drinks fizzed over with liquid that soaked into the tablecloth. then, Alejandro gestured his bottle to you, meeting your eyes, mouthing out the words so that only you and Simon could see.

“to the devil and his angel.”

he took a big swing of the whiskey bottle, and the muddled feeling in you only sunk, jolting when Simon pressed his lips to your ear.

“sit in my lap,” he commanded and you shot him a glare.

“you haven’t talked to me all night,” you hissed under your breath and he narrowed his eyes at you.

“you haven’t either,” he countered, which you thought was rather immature as you looked up at him with a pinched expression.

with a little yelp, you jolted when his hand lazily slid around your throat. “and i wasn’t asking, princess.”

swallowing hard, you let him pick you up and drop you in his lap, curling both arms around you in a vice, chin tucked over your shoulder. you told yourself, chanted to yourself, that you were doing it to prevent any further bloodshed already spilled between the men and women of the room, your eyes darting over Kate and Maria flush together at the end of the table.

you clutched at Simon’s strong arms, leaning back into his massive body, turning your cheek so that your forehead was against his jaw, closing your eyes.

“sleepy?” he offered, voice gruff in your ear. gently, he kissed the lobe of your ear, and a resolute ache wracked your chest.

you realized, in his arms, this was the first time in multiple days since he had held you. you reached back to clutch at his neck, sinking into him.

“mhmm,” you hummed, grateful that Gaz and John ignored the pair of you in their own conversation.

then, he kissed your neck softly. “i can take you to bed.”

the suggestiveness of his words don’t go unnoticed. “now?”

“no one will say anythin’,” he promised, already pushing you off his lap softly. even if half the table watched you disappear through the rooms of the mansion with Simon’s arm wrapped around your waist, you found yourself completely uncaring, just nuzzling closer into him.

once you were both completely out of sight, he hooked an arm under your knees and carried you up the stairs and into a random room shrouded with darkness, the blankets and furs soft against your back when he laid you out over a bed.

you watched him undress in silence, undoing his vest and then his button up before you heard the clink of a belt in the dark and his dress pants dropped to the floor. he crawled over to you, completely bare for your greedy eyes.

“let me?” he asked softly, finger hooking in the low collar of your evening gown, and you nodded, letting him sit you up and unbutton the back of your dress. you tugged it over your head, uncaring that it crumpled the fabric, and flipped your hair over your shoulder, turning so you offered your back to him.

when he made no move to your corset, you sent him a confused look over your shoulder, lips parting at the sight of him breathing shallow, and swollen, veiny cock pressed against his thigh.

he edged forward with a low curse, kissing your shoulder as he untied your corset expertly, too expertly now, with a clumsy rush, your breasts bouncing when he practically ripped the thing from your torso.

a gasp escaped you when he bound an arm around your chest, kneading at your breast while his other hand tugged at the hem of your drawers. you lifted your hips, awkwardly shimmying out of them in his tight hold. he tore it the rest of the way down, and you chided him with disapproval that he ignored, arms squeezing you tight to his muscled, warm chest.

you could feel his feverish cock pressed into the curve of your ass, and you reached down blindly to stroke him but he grumbled out something like a no, burying his face into your hair and neck as he just held you there in that awkward position.

you clutched at his arms, feeling the muscled strength of them tense beneath your touch. “Simon?”

he hummed distantly, pressing pleasant kisses to your skin.

“i need to show you something,” he said, untangling himself from your body for a brief moment to step away and search for something on the floor. he took something from the pocket of his discarded pants, silvery and shiny in the dim light as he crawled back onto the bed and pulled you flush to him once more.

he looped both arms in front of your chest, the silver thing dangling in the air in front of your face.

you gasped at the sight of the pink jewel embedded in an ornate silver casing—dazzling even in the low light. it wasn’t unlike Simon to bring you back trinkets and small mementos from his travels, though they were always discrete, left on your nightstand after an intimate night, or the kitchen table in your apartment. 

this was the first time he had directly presented you with something so romantic.

with a content hum at your reaction, he clasped it around your neck, pulling your hair out from under the silver chain, pressing his lips along the necklace against your skin. the contrast between its cold metal and his hot kisses left you shivering.

“what is it?” you asked in wonder, clutching at the jewel against your chest.

“pink tourmaline,” he slurred against your skin. you met his half-lidded gaze from over your shoulder.

“s’my birthstone,” he said, voice deceptively soft as he reached around to toy with it in your fingers. a heat slithered down to your core, and you had to clench your thighs together to stave off the aching pressure of it.

the act was so possessive it left you hot with delirium.

physically branding you as his, a happy voice sung in your somewhere, though the logic of your mind swatted at it, reminding you this wasn’t how you wanted it.

you bit down on your lip, feeling conflicted as you stared down at the jewel in his fingertips.

when you didn’t respond to him, Simon gently pressed you onto your back, sliding over your body to study your face with a blank expression.

“what’s wrong, lovely? you don’t like it?”

you shook your head, reaching up to cup his cheek. “no. i like it. it’s just…”

he tilted his head, eyes flitting down to your exposed, swollen breast from his kneading, then up again.

“fuck me,” you offered, and his face pinched, pulling back from your touch so he sat back on his haunches.

“what’re you not tellin’ me, lovely?” he asked, angling your chin down so you were looking right into his dark eyes.

you swallowed hard. “Konig came and talked to me.”

he stiffened, grip on your chin tightening as he frowned. “he didn’t touch you, did he?”

“no,” you said, clutching at his wrist, “he told me that he wanted to stay in the city for me.”

with as much honesty as you could muster, you told him, “i realized that i care about him more than i believed.”

his hand dropped from your face, jaw clenched as a new void look swept through his expression, which left you icy inside and out.

“you want to tell me that you love him?” there was such a strain in his voice that it didn’t sound like his own.

“no,” you said immediately, and the tight bunch of his shoulders dropped. “i want...”

that voice in your head screamed and you tried to bury it but it came out wracking and loud. you screwed your eyes shut. 

you Simon, it screamed. i want you. you wanted him so bad it was soul-crushing. you wanted him so bad you’d rather deny yourself of the need, ignore him endlessly, if it meant that he wouldn’t… reject you.

those same, sharp questions pierced finally broke the barricade of your mind. could you ever hope for Simon to be yours? would he ever think you an equal? was it more than the power balance you felt it to be?

you looked into his stoic face.

“i want to start over.”

he tilted his head, voice rough. “start over.”

you nodded. “i’m a business woman. i’m a murderer. i’ve done awful things. i’m not innocent anymore.” 

you held your breath, hoping with all your might he would believe your words. you were so, so, so very afraid that he cared for a girl that you weren’t anymore.

you are a woman now, Yue-Yi had said to you with wonder after your reunion in san francisco, marveled that you had survived the harrowing gang war. 

he edged closer to you, creeping over you so his body bowed down to your own. his hands slid up to your cheeks, holding your face as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. his dark eyes flitted between yours. 

you pressed on. “let’s do everything over. no more secrets. retell me ones i’ve already learned.”

when he was silent, you reached up to gently hold his face in your palms in return.

“the one i love is you,” you admitted, amazed at how the weight slid right from your shoulders into some intangible pit below, just how it had been that noon with Konig.

you searched his eyes, finding nothing changed in them after your words. just Simon’s brown eyes. still just Simon. the clarity in that realization was like finally finding a foothold after months of free fall.

“you’ve changed Angel,” he said, quietly, like he was in awe.

your breath hitched. “is that bad?”

“‘course not. is this what you’ve been worrying your pretty little head about for months?”

you frowned. “yes.”

his whole body relaxed, easing down to trap you beneath his muscled body. “i thought you were rethinkin’ about marrying me.”

you winced, because in all technicality you were, but not because you were doubting him. you were doubting all of the unreliable circumstances that danced around the two of you.

he said softer, “i thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

“i want you more than anything,” you squeaked and he cocked his head. 

only you could decipher it as the silent question that it was. then why’d you do all that to me?

your breath hitched, the guilt of neglecting him like a crashing, icy wave splashing over you. or, rather, you had neglected yourself.

“i can’t explain it,” you choked and he rubbed a hand over your chest.

“take your time Angel.”

shimmering tears glossed your eyes, and you said quicker than you thought, “i wanna be equals.”

the slow, soothing circles he drew against your chest stopped. “equals?”

“i wanna be more than this,” you said, clutching at the jewel on your chest, hoping with every fiber of your being that he understood.

more than the once innocent and naive girl he kidnapped.

but he was just silent for a long moment, eyes darting between your face and the little jewel, and you made a strangled noise of frustration.

“i want you to be mine, too,” you admitted, so embarrassed by the proposition that you couldn’t look at him.

when his silence just continued, your eyes darted over to meet his, face void of anything perceptible before he suddenly smothered a laugh, pressing a fist to his lips and twisting away so you couldn’t see his face.

“what—”

you scrambled up to see him keeled over by the edge of the bed, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

“Simon!” you shouted, kicking at his shoulder to get him to quit it, but that only goaded him on. 

with a sniffle, you wiped at the tears in your eyes and scrambled from the bed, standing up to stomp out of the room. even if you were naked and all, you didn’t care.

“don’t even try to run away,” he growled between laughter, winding an arm around your waist and pulling you back so you fell back against his chest with a yelp, fighting him as he wrestled you back down to the bed.

when your cheek was pressed against the mattress, back arched and ass pressed to his hips, you slumped with defeat and he let out a low, approving hum, laughter finally subsiding as he bent over you to nose at the crown of your head.

once he settled above you, he hummed again, an iron grip around both of your forearms that were pressed to the bed. he kneed your thighs apart, cunt spread and presented to him in the most indecent way possible. 

you shuddered, a burning heat in your tummy.

“silly girl,” he murmured, hips sliding forward to press his leaking cock into the softness of your inner thigh.

you gasped, squirming around in his grip, trapped beneath him.

“my cock was made for this pretty pussy,” he rasped, low enough that it sent goosebumps across your skin, a little whimper torn from your lips. 

“made for you,” he emphasized, picking up a hand that pinned down your forearm.

you looked down between your quivering legs, watching him wrap a large hand around his length and pump his cock a couple times before lining up with your entrance.

“already?” you whined, shaking at the feeling of his drooling tip pushing through your gooey folds.

“you can take it can’t you?” he cooed softly, leaning down to press a messy kiss to your cheek.

of course you could, you wanted to say, but the memory of how the stretch of your cunt around his big cock burned even when he prepared you made you tremble.

but that didn’t stop you from wiggling your hips back into him, wanting him to just slide in already, the wetness of your cunt hot and unbearable. you couldn’t keep from whimpering against the sheets for him.

at your meek display of submission, he whispered in a low, throaty tone, “good girl.”

slowly, he pressed his cock into your unstretched cunt, smothering your cries against the blankets. you screwed your eyes shut, tears slipping down your cheeks as you half-sobbed.

Simon smoothed a hand down your spine, his other hand going between your thighs to circle at your aching clit as he plunged further in.

“hurts,” you whined and he hummed, kissing your shoulder blade.

“want me to stop?” he offered softly, but you immediately shook your head, wanting to please him.

always wanting to please him.

“you’re perfect,” he purred against your skin, bullying the last thick inches of his base into your pussy till he was flush against your ass.

lingering there for a moment, letting the sharp burn subside as you sniffled against the sheets and he peppered kisses all down your neck and back, fingers still massaging your swollen clit.

“needed this so bad,” he admitted, hot breath against your back making your shiver, “needed this pretty little, tight cunt so bad.”

the first snap of his hips punched the breath from your lungs, the rest leaving you gasping, breathless, and mind dizzy as he fucked you. rough. rougher than you felt in a long time.

punishing, you thought dreamily as his hand reached around your throat and squeezed periodically to keep you from passing out.

his hips slammed against your ass, growling out low grunts that coupled with your breathy hiccups in the quiet of the room. it had you delirious and out of your mind, thick tears rolling down your cheeks and pooling at the mattress below.

when he stopped abruptly, hips flush to the back of your thighs that stung from repetitive impact, he manhandled you onto your back, twisting you on his cock as he draped your legs over your shoulders, bending you in half and ignoring your little whimpers as he continued to fuck you relentlessly.

when his hand snaked up to your throat again, you thought he’d give you those delicious little squeezes that had your cunt throbbing and aching, but he wrapped his fingers around your necklace instead, pressing the jewel of it into your throat.

his head was tilted, eyes predatory and clouded beyond recognition. 

“pretty,” he snarled, fingers digging into your cheek to keep you still as he pressed more messy kisses to your face as you whimpered.

not punishing, you realized, choking out a sob when he slammed deep into that sweet spot in you, possessive.

so possessive that it made your head spin, clit twitching for his attention, your hips bucking up into his rough movements as you whined for his touch desperately.

“touch yourself,” he commanded roughly, and you sobbed out a thank you, running a hand down your stomach to rub at it—but it just wasn’t as good as the rough pads of his fingers that knew exactly how you liked it.

whining again, he chided you with a tsk, leaning down to shut you up with a hot, wet kiss, tongue invading your mouth as he pushed your hand aside. he pressed his thumb against your needy clit, fingers splayed across your stomach as he abused the pebbled bud to perfection.

“oh, Simon,” you gasped into his full lips, watching the silvery scar of his upper lip stretch when he smiled, malicious and pupils blown wide.

“hm? tha’ good, baby?” 

“yeah,” you choked out, more tears running down your face when you screwed your eyes shut. he kissed them away with a softness that made you melt, curling into his touch, taking and loving every one of his rough thrusts that drove you a little further up the bed. 

so far that he held up a hand against it, broad and big body towering over your small, shaking one, dwarfed by him in the darkness.

he groaned, little strings of praise leaving his lips. “so perfect takin’ me, Angel. so small and tight and takin’ it all.”

you nodded, gasping for breath as your fingers twisted in the sheets, overwhelmed 

“this cock yours? hm?” he goaded, and you just kept nodding through your hiccuped gasps, hands running up his strong arms to sink your nails into his shoulders, tugging him down to you with a whine.

he relented, dropping down to squish you beneath his heavy weight, your thighs almost pressed to your ears as he fucked his thick cock into you, your eyes rolling back when you felt it throb inside you.

“tell me m’yours,” he growled in your ear, and you moaned, snaking a hand into his hair to pull at its roots and quell the crashing pleasure wracking your body with little overstimulated shakes.

“you’re mine,” you squeaked back, and he chuckled low in your ear, talking you through an orgasm with throaty murmurs.

good girl. come for me now. wanna watch your pretty face while you come. thaaas’ it, pretty thing, come f’me, come f’me—

and you did, every one of his words spurring you closer to the edge, thrown over it when he snuck a hand around your throat and squeezed, the cold metal of your necklace digging into your skin.

it was too much, and you came so hard you saw white, throaty groans in your ear as you came down from the high, Simon’s thrusts slower and more affectionate.

“did so well f’me,” he cooed, and you nodded weakly, still clutching at his hair as your body continued to shake.

“think you can do it again?” he asked softly and you immediately shook your head.

“no,” you sniffled, but he pressed his lips against your hair, a telling smile twisted them and you whimpered, knowing exactly what that meant.

you gasped when he suddenly pulled out of you, feeling light and airy and cold from the weightless absence of him. dizzy, you picked up your head, blinking your eyes against the darkness, pacified when he leaned down and enveloped your lips with his warm ones, movements slow and soft when he flipped you to straddle his hips.

you leaned against his chest, feeling just as woozy and dizzy as he angled your hips, dripping length pushing through your folds and catching against your sensitive clit.

“i think you can, lovely,” he said, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your hip. “can you try? f’me?”

you sniffled, sending him a pout that just made the smug look on his face stretch.

“want you to use me,” he rasped, eyes darting down to where his cock was nestled between the wet folds of your entrance—sopping with your orgasm and the pearly white liquid that rolled from the tip of his cock.

you whined, grinding down on him, feeling that needy thrum between your thighs again, and he hummed approvingly, guiding his cock back into the waiting clutch of your heat.

the position was unusual to you—so exposed in the cold air of the room, begetting you a whole new berth of control that you were unsure what to do with when you sunk down on him, watching his blonde lashes flutter as his eyelids drooped, sighing out a heavy breath.

once you were settled flush to his hips, you gasped, head tilted back and eyes wide at how deep the head of him nudged against that gummy crook of your inside that ached and keened for stimulation. 

“Simon,” you gasped, unsure what to do.

he placed two hands on your hips, dragging your hips up so just the tip of him was at your entrance, before spearing you back down.

you gasped when the head of his cock pressed right against that sweet spot again, and you clutching at his big hands on your hips, picking your hips up before dropping back down onto him, the new pleasure blooming through your body.

“tha’ it,” he grunted, lolling his head back into the pillows, watching your work his length with little breathy moans and gasps, “use this cock. s’all yours.”

you whined at that, whimpering a little, “mine” as you peered down at him through half-lidded eyes.

“mhmm,” he affirmed, using his thumb to play with your aching clit, “m’all yours, princess.”

a moan escaped your lips as you tipped your head back, riding him slow and sensual to your own pleasure, letting it overwhelm you with loud keens of pleasure, head spinning at the thick, pulsing cock between your legs.

all yours, your mind chanted, reaching up to pinch at your own sensitive nipples and whimpering at the sensation that mixed into all the others, watching Simon groan beneath you.

“such a dirty, corrupted little thing,” he grunted, thrusting up in time with your movements so he slammed a little deeper in you every time.

“gonna let me make you my pretty little wife, princess?” he asked, voice so soft as he cupped your cheek.

you nodded incessantly, babbling incoherent words and little pleas as you leaned forward on his chest, another orgasm rushing closer and closer to you.

“gonna come?”

you nodded again, pitched little whimpers the only sound you could push from your lips as he snapped his hips up, taking over the weak, shallow movement of your hips, thighs burning from the effort.

your whole body turned to jello, muscles going lax as you collapsed over him, core convulsing with sweet, delicious pulses that blissed you out, a roar of static in your ears as you screwed your eyes shut with a broken sob.

you hadn’t even realized your cheek was pressed to Simon’s chest till you were coming down from the intensity of it, mind still buzzing with overstimulation, as you just listened to his lulling breaths against your hair and the slow swells of his chest.

he brushed his fingers up your back. “alright, lovely?”

you nodded with a contented hum against his bare chest, tracing the mottled scars of his body softly.

you only noticed his throbbing, hard length still flush to that sweet spot in you when he bucked his hips up, and a surprised moan left your lips. 

“can i?” he asked, lifting your hips softly to slide his cock out the tight clutch of your cunt.

you weren’t sure of what he was asking for till he perched your leg up, wrapping a hand around himself and stroking, tip pressed right up against the rim of your entrance.

you moaned at the sight, craning your head back to look at the quick swipe of his hand twisting around his cock, hips bucking up in an irregular pattern that made you dizzy. 

he twitched beneath you every time slapped the head of his cock against your clit, making you mewl out with sensitivity, turning your head back to him, finding his dark, clouded eyes already on you.

he picked his head up in a silent offering that you took, kissing him with a delirious need, needing him to do something, needed him to come.

“need it,” you whimpered, grinding your hips down against the head of his cock, and his hips bucked with a low groan against your tongue.

“fuck,” he grunted, forehead pressed to yours, “you don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

that only left you confused, brow furrowed as you traced your fingers over his neck and collarbones, scratching lightly over the skin just to hear his breath go shallow.

“need you to come in me,” you begged, whining at the very thought of his hot, milky spend spilling into your cunt, not knowing why you needed it, just that you did.

he groaned loud, hips bucking up into his hands a few more times till he held the head of his cock right against your entrance and came all over your pussy lips, splashing them with a hot, goopy liquid as you whimpered, grinding down on the feeling.

you were half tempted to sheath himself back into your cunt, but his fingers already beat you to it, slithering down your stomach to curl up into your entrance. you gasped as he pushed the spend in you, hot and slimy and just as you had imagined as you ground down on his fingertips.

“this what you needed?” he asked, voice hazy and distant. you blinked up at him, his head lolled against the pillows with a lazy smirk.

shifting up you pecked his lips, humming as he fucked his fingers into you, spreading his spend within you. he pecked your nose in return.

“good.”

then, his fingers were sliding out your cunt, leaving you empty and cold after the accumulated sweat on your body had dried. but his arms were warm as he wrapped you in his embrace, turning you over to crush you beneath him again, just where you belonged.

stretching out beneath him, you winced at the sting between your thighs.

“sore?” he asked, reaching down to cup your cunt, and you swatted at his hand with a flush.

“s’your fault,” you said with a pout.

he just thumbed at your lower lip that jutted out, and you playfully bit down on it, satisfied when you saw a little smile on his lips.

“i promise i’ll stretch you nice and good beforehand next time. with a couple orgasms too,” he purred in your ear, and you only flushed deeper, hiding it under an indignant nod and a little hmph.

“but that won’t be happenin' for a while, pretty,” he said, rolling off you to sit at the edge of the bed.

when you sent him a quizzical look, beseeching him to come back and keep you warm, he just shook his head.

“s’improper while courting.”

you stiffened against the sheets, dropping your hand back down to your side. then, your eyes narrowed. “since when do you care about that kind of bullshit?”

he just bellowed a laugh, standing, tall and broad and stretching his compressed muscles in the open air. your eyes dropped beneath his hips, taking in the hair along his naval and his softening cock with a greediness.

tipping your knees open suggestively, you bared your intimates to him, and his eyes honed in on the messy mix of wetness caking your lower body.

“don’t do that,” he said, low and threatening as his eyes darted back up to your own, tongue sliding along his lower lip.

you couldn’t help but swallow at the sight of him, splaying yourself suggestively over the bed to entice him back. he just turned on his heel with a scoff, muttering something like insatiable beneath his breath before he walked off somewhere into the spacious room.

with the whiz of a match, you saw a space on the opposite of the bedroom bloom with light as he lit candles inside the bathroom.

in the meantime, you burrowed beneath the blankets and soft furs, humming with content at the warmth, brow furrowing when you felt them being pulled off your. with closed eyes, you felt Simon lift your leg, gently wiping your thighs and the sensitive place between them with a warm cloth, making you jolt at the sensation. 

he pressed an apologetic kiss to your shoulder before the blankets were on you again and there was the sound of rustling, footsteps in the distance, the rush of water, footsteps nearing you, and more rustles when Simon slid into the bed behind you.

you turned onto your back to blink your eyes lazily at him, seeing him propped up on his side against the pillows and looking down at you. you smiled, tracing along his jaw and the silvery scar on his upper lip before he stooped down to kiss you with an intensity, tongue softly brushing against yours, before he pulled away again.

“do that again,” you commanded and with a huff he complied, kissing you so hard it made you dizzy.

“better?” he asked with a relaxed look on his face, reaching around you to play with your necklace.

“mhmm.”

you clutched at his wrist. “this my first courting gift?”

he let it drop against your skin, snaking two arms around you to pull you flush to his chest. it was warm and inviting. exactly where you belonged. exactly where Simon belonged.

“naturally.”

you smothered a smile, slithering your hand over his bound around your waist, intertwining your fingers together. he nuzzled against you with a hum, yawning right by your ear like a big cat. 

“it was my last effort at failing to court you for months,” he admitted softly, breathing in the scent of your hair and skin shamelessly. you swatted at him, giggling at his ticklish breaths on your skin.

“leaving things around my apartment was courting?” you asked with a snort, and he grunted against your neck.

“i don’t know how it works,” he grumbled, and you drew lazy patterns across the veins of his muscled forearm.

“i could’ve taught you,” you sighed, remembering how your mama had described your daddy’s courting process.

Simon’s prolonged silence goaded you, and you began, “supposed to have a chaperone. first, you talk to her parents, gain their approval to pursue her, then—”

“i know all that,” he interjected, sounding sheepish. it was the first time you heard him so flustered, but you decided not to push him when you could feel him frown against your hair.

squirming around in his arms, he loosened his hold enough so that you could turn, taking in the strained look on his face. you pecked the corners of his scowl, willing it away, but it didn’t relent.

“then,” you said, brushing his brow with your fingers, “you fix a date to court her in front of her family.”

his scowl just deepened and you huffed a laugh.

“court me in front of Yue-Yi,” you offered, letting your head sink into the pillows, a droop pulling on your eyelids.

“i don’t want to,” he countered and you rolled your eyes.

“she’s the only family i’ve got besides one-four-one,” you said, stifling a yawn, “unless you wanna court me in front of John.”

he nodded slowly, like he was being thoughtful. “that could work.”

you scoffed, letting your eyes slide shut. “unbelievable.”

his fingers traced along your bare spine. “i’ve gotta tell you somethin’, lovely.”

“hm?” you prompted, tilting your head into the pillow like you were listening.

“i did ask your parents for permission.”

you stilled in his arms, breaths growing shallow, waiting for him to explain. when he didn’t, you pressed him.

“and?”

when his silence was only prolonged, you blinked your eyes open, lazily looking up at the serious look pinching his face.

“your mother was shot by one of Turner’s men in the street. it was a mess. don’t know how she got there, or where your father was. just hauled her down an alley and tried to save her.”

your heart swelled so big that it cinched your esophagus, and you found it hard to breathe around the beating appendage in your throat. 

“in her dyin’ moments, she asked me if i had done somethin’ to you.” he screwed his eyes shut, a pained look crossing his face.

“i told her that i had, but that i cared about you more than anythin’. i promised i’d marry you and be a good, faithful husband.”

gripping his jaw lightly, you shimmied up in his arms to press a kiss to his lips that he didn’t return, dark eyes flitting over your face.

“i think she wanted to kill me,” he admitted softly, and you just gave him a wry smile.

“sounds like my mama,” you said, trying to ease the pained look on his face, heart sinking when his scowl only strengthened.

“i tried to save her,” he said, voice gruff and brows pinched together, “i promise.”

you nodded, brushing your hands over his face, willing all of his pain away. “i believe you.”

he closed his eyes with a frustrated huff. “m’terrible at courting.”

you would’ve laughed if it weren’t for the dark roil of deep disapproval coming off him in waves.

“we didn’t exactly have a practical start,” you reminded him, thinking back to months ago. when it was the heat of a dusty summer and he was waltzed into your daddy’s saloon like he owned it, snatching your heart just at the first sight of his brown eyes behind the bloody layer of his glittering mask.

you could barely remember how it looked after it so long. you took in the handsome planes of his face just to remind yourself that you could.

“you deserve more,” he grumbled, still not looking at you. instead, you kissed his eyelids softly.

“stop it,” you chided, patting his cheek hard enough to make his eyes snap open.

“i only want you,” you said, enjoying the way his expression went sweet and gooey at your words, a sleepy smile on his lips, “there is no more or less.”

“this is it,” he said, voice soft as he pressed your foreheads together.

“this is it,” you sighed, curling your arms around his neck, letting your eyes close once more.

goosebumps rose where his fingers danced across your skin, picking up the ends of your hair against your collarbone and playing with it gently.

“marry me,” he offered, hooking a finger beneath the silver chain of your new necklace, rattling when he tugged on it.

“i do,” you sighed, letting him kiss you softly before his warm touch was pulling you down into a heavy slumber.

translations: — te ves tan bonita esta noche, Angel = you look so pretty tonight, angel — escuche que eres la chica de Ghost. pero ya no lo parece = i heard you're Ghost's girl. but it doesn't seem that way anymore —¿todavia parece que no es mia cabron? = does she still look like she’s not mine, bastard?

anyway! next up.... wedding scene 🌚 unless.... jkjk unless............. 👁️👁️ jk (unless...)

taglist: @poohkie90 @kunikku @tomiesdiet @silverianni @doublesuicidewithme @cliosunshine @one17 @mr-sol @warenai @saturnknows @migueloharaapologist2 @keiva1000 @kenma-izhu @lilvampirina @deltottoro @maki-z @leeeenistop @danika1994 @stillinracooncity @saevitiaa @itsalwaysbetternottoknow @karagd13-blog @nattywatty @oyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoya @havoc973 @mentallynot-here @aqua7ofana @ccerviee @haleidontknow @imjusttheretofightforlove @moonstonedeluluera @tieflingteatime @syddieuh @savakewl @shinebright2000 @bakugo-apologist98 @queenie-b- @whenyoushipuponastar

[rubra-wav]

Vox x reader drabble

A/N Idk, man. I just wanted to write sumn softer with him, and this came out. Couldn't figure out a name for it

Cw: SFW, Gn!reader, use of the petname dollface/doll, bully him bully him bully him

You sat in Vox's lap as he worked, head on his chest, listening to the oddly comforting sound of his internal mechanisms whirring away under ear.

It had been rather tiring of a day for you to say the least, and although the demon had been rather surprised you had dare ventured into his observation room, he hadn't exactly been against you taking up the current position you held against him so long as you didn't distract him until he finished up.

The arm that had wrapped around your waist to pull you to sit in the space between his thighs had taken up residence on your hip, gently rubbed circles against it absentmindedly while his other hand typed rather loudly.

As you had been pulled against him, you'd practically melted into his embrace. The observation room was very cold so as to not cause all the technology (including Vox himself) to overheat, and he was much warmer than said room.

Your tired eyes cracked open, and you looked up at him through your lashes as you pressed your chin against his chest upon hearing Vox let out an irritated his.

His red eyes narrowed at the monitor before him, brows angrily furrowed as he grit his teeth. He could feel your gaze on him as his lip curled and somewhat pushed himself to calm down a bit.

"You okay?" You asked.

Vox sighed, eyes somewhat softening as he forced himself to look away from the screen displaying numbers in front of him. The ghost of a smile spread across his face as the light from his monitor illuminated your sleepy expression.

The demon would never be able to quite admit the way just seeing and feeling you pressing against him, looking up at him with somewhat messy hair and eyes, which shone with adoration made him feel.

He was sure you were aware anyway, as embarrassing as that was.

"I'm just peachy, dollface. Stocks are down slightly from last year, is all." He said, bringing the hand on his keyboard to rest on the top of your head, running his fingers through it to smoothe out the wayward strands.

You hummed at the contact, it petering off into a slight snicker as you considered his words. "You're loaded already. Would losing some really be that bad?" You watched his smile fade as his expression soured again, his hand in your hair coming to a stop.

"Yes. Yes, it would be." He said pointedly. You laughed at the way he said it and moved around to sit facing towards him, knees on the soft leather of the seat in between his legs as you leaned up towards his glowering expression.

Vox's cheeks tinted light blue as your face stopped just before your nose pressed against his monitor, your hands resting on his shoulders casually. "I know you're capitalism king, but you really ought to stop being so greedy, baby~" you cooed at him, grinning as his sour expression became irritatedly flustered at your tone.

"You know damn well what stock prices falling could mean. What if there's a crash or somethi- oh-!" he stopped short as your lips made contact with his monitor once on his cheek, then again and again and again - peppering him with kisses.

"Doll- (Name)!" He exclaimed, glitching slightly as you felt his display heat up under your at your sudden onslaught of affection. You chuckled as you felt his hands grip onto your hips as if he were trying to steady himself.

When you finally stopped kissing him, you leaned back with a somewhat smug look on your face as you looked at his pouting and flustered expression.

"It's not funny." He grumbled.

"Yeah, it is actually." You said. His pout only deepened, prompting you to tilt your head at him, laughter quieting to slight giggles.

Vox admired the way your eyelids drooped again, you looking at him with a mischievous smirk in a way only you were allowed to.

He sighed deeply, urging his heart to stop racing in his chest and tried to sound disappointed in you. "And would you look at that? You distracted me from my work. I ought to tell you to shoo." He said with a raised brow, expression now calm.

You raised your eyebrows right back at him, smiling as you already knew the answer to the question. "But are you gonna?"

You two engaged in a silent staring contest for a good 5 seconds before Vox grumbled a 'no' under his breath as he turned away from you bitterly.

You burrowed your face into his neck with a muffled proclamation of 'thought so', snuggling into him all the more and him begrudgingly reciprocating.

I'm probably gonna post this, then notice a ton of spelling or grammar errors tomorrow, but who cares~~ (morning me will)

Masterlist

[ukrainian-psycho]

Everyone hates the Ventrue calling them boring and insufferable with their grindset-mindset and while most of it is true, if you dig into the clan's culture there isn't much that makes them worse than other clans really, there's a lot of endearing qualities that also explain why are they stupid like this. So here's some of my favorite facts and bits of the in clan lore (some of these traditions are applicable for cammies or for those in the clan-clan, done with the Agoge etc; an anarch ventrue obv doesn't have to follow no rule).

Blood preference is made up. It's in their head. There were incidents of a ventrue changing their preference, takes a huge effort but nothing says you can’t. Many ancient ones perished because there's no more Yugoslavian blood or whatever and they couldn't get used to any other. The biggest problem of the Clan of Kings is that they all think they all have an imaginary lactose intolerance they absolutely will die for.

Unlike other clans who let their progeny run around doing fuck all you are responsible for your childe. Providing for them first time, teaching them to hunt, all that regardless if they want to go through the Agoge or join the clan. As a capital V Ventrue you have to respect their choice. Being a deadbeat sire is generally frowned upon.

Actually, everyone in the clan feels entitled to your childe. Any clan member has the right to show up on your doorstep whenever because they thought of something profound to say to the fledgling or give you an advice on how to mentor them. Turning them away is impolite. Absolutely insufferable.

When in a serious trouble you can always ask a fellow clans-mate for help and even if they hate your ass they have to help and do a good job at that lest they want to lose some dignitas. You are expected to return the favor obviously.

Deathnights! 🥳🎉🎉. The thought that any kindred care for birthdays (or deathnights, the time you were embraced) is already silly but the fact that it's ventrues who care about this so much is especially funny. Yeah you sire sucks, but she invited Paris Hilton and got you a new car for your sweet 160. If it's an elder's deathnight you can even rizz them and it's all in good fun!

The general opinion that your local venture is an e*lon m*usk type o guy and not a gas station manager doesn't help. In the digital era even the most powerful ventrue have to influence from the shadows which is quite a hit on their ego. Others settle for less.

They are the smallest clan. The key to survival is resilience and mutual support. Trust no one, not even the other ventrue but you know they've got your back because you've got theirs. Fucked up, however "familial" bonds like sire-childe and such are much valued.

Wholesome-ish, ventrue cliques. Many looove chess and have chess clubs. Both as a hobby and often preferring to solve personal disputes over a game. Then, Philosophes and Diplomats. The first one is just a bunch of an armchair philosophers. The other can be considered as "progressive" and want to build bridges with other clans and think the Camarilla needs to be more cooperative and inviting. The elders often snark at the "friendly ventrues" but at the end of the night it is the Diplomats they send out to represent the clan and do the talking and make peace with others. There's also a club for neonates just to bitch about their hard unlife without the restrictions of the etiquette. Btw look up the Olympian clique on your own lmao, I'm not even delving into that.

And to be fair, there's so much etiquette. You're being told what to wear, what to gift, how to act.

don't argue with those younger than you, embarrassing them in the act. Don't argue with elders because it's disrespectful. Don't argue with your peers because arguing is stupid. If someone really pissed you off please submit a request to your closest ventrue primogen and wait 15-20 business nights to be informed if you have a go at killing their ass. This is not a joke. Always show up as a united front at all times.

Be respectful and treat other clans as you would have wanted to be treated. Even if they are ugly, annoying, or unhinged. At the end of the night the inquisition will come for all of us.

The Agoge sucks. Everyone hates it. It fucks you up but complaining is for pussies so drink some cocained up blood or get a therapist like everybody else. Suck it up.

Crying in the boardroom is not allowed. No public display of emotions or feelings is allowed. The purpose of it is to minimize the amount of conflict between each other and other clans but it's the next best thing to Lasombra's catholic guilt in terms of repressing yourself.

Older ones have a hard time keeping up with technology, the concept of email is on par with other paranormal forces. The Board risks their unlives traveling to an in-person meeting to resolve something that could have been a 10 minute conference call. If you are a neonate who knows what a DVR is you've got quite some power.

[transmutationisms]

…so can you expand on the psychological ramifications of stewy being in private equity? that has definitely been lost on me given that i barely understand what private equity is

ok this is an underrated funny aspect of the show imo, and also good insight into stewy and kendall. i'm trying to spare you a bunch of stupid business jargon but basically, maesbury capital (which stewy represents but sandy/sandi ultimately own) is a private equity fund, meaning it's a big pile of a bunch of rich people's money, and stewy's job is to take that money and invest in private companies. a PE fund can invest at a few different points: at the very beginning of a startup's life (venture or angel investing), at a point where the company is trying to grow or restructure (growth investing), or when a company is struggling financially, in which case the fund is usually planning to either dismantle it and sell it for scrap, restructure and go public, or sell it for cash to another company. PE firms like to present themselves as doing a lot of growth or venture investing, but in truth many/most are primarily engaging in this third category of investment strategies, because they're lucrative (and because many startups are stupid, and only good for generating investor payouts).

so, when kendall went and dismantled vaulter in season 2 because logan decided that selling most of it for scrap would be more profitable? that's basically a dramatisation of what stewy does routinely, except of course the exact financial instruments and strategies will differ because stewy represents a PE firm. like, if kendall's venture capitalist schemes tell us about his delusions of creating cool new products and services, stewy is sort of the opposite because his structural goal is usually to dismantle companies and liquidate them however is best for maesbury's backers. it's a total destruction of all use-value and a conversion of it into pure exchange-value in the form of capital (which goes into his pockets and maesbury's). stewy generates money by destroying utility, which is perverse if you think capitalism is supposed to create and sustain human life, but actually completely comprehensible if you understand that capitalism is an insatiable growth machine with inherently contradictory internal tendencies and no raison d'être beyond the endless accumulation of pure capital itself.

many viewers think stewy is insane because he is friends with kendall roy. this is true, but on a deeper level stewy is insane because his job is to participate in the inexorable tendency to more and more abstraction in the capitalist mode of production. it literally does not matter at all to someone like stewy whether people are fed or clothed or happy, or have any of their needs met. the point is solely to create money, to turn all social forms and values into numbers on a balance sheet. this is why, when kendall tries to threaten him on axos at the end of season 2, stewy is able to casually tell him that "it doesn't matter; it doesn't mean anything." he and sandy are convincing shareholders that their offer will be able to make them more money, "and that's all that this is." stewy speaks the language of business differently than logan, because stewy doesn't care about dick-swinging competitions or demonstrating dominance in logan's cringey old catholic military way. which makes stewy more rational in certain ways, but also more insane, in that he operates in a way totally detached from this type of social value system and solely motivated by cold hard numbers.

the irony is that, whilst being detached and disembodied in his business practices, stewy is also better than the roys at appreciating the material fruits of wealth. he eats; he dresses well; he enjoys the "several houses" he owns. kendall is always trying to come up with some grand moral bullshit masculinity reason that what he's doing is noble or whatever, and he's alienated from his body and afflicted with severe catholic martyr disease. stewy just bypasses all that shit, measures his success by his payouts, and enjoys wealth because he sees it as an end in itself and not a means to logan roy's respect.

this is also why kendall's line in 'living+' about "it's enough to make you lose your faith in capitalism" is so funny. kendall can't just accept that business is a bunch of meaningless bullshit confidence games played by coked-up assholes who like to win; he always has to try to convince himself he's making cool new tech shit, or saving the world from the spectre of death itself or some shit. it's like, insane that he made it to literally 40 years old, growing up in a media conglomerate of all things, and still thinks that what he's doing requires actual skill or creates actual social value—but of course, part of the reason he still thinks this is because he deified logan and was therefore incapable of ever seeing logan or waystar for what they really were. stewy would never say that line because he can't be disillusioned this way on account of he already knows the whole thing is bullshit. it's just that to him it doesn't matter, because being bullshit does not preclude it from paying well.

[jcteamcapitals]

Venture capitalists Canada are the people who invest this money and become financial partners. Private equity financing is offered to early-stage, high-potential growth enterprises (startups) as seed funding or more commonly, as a growth funding round after the seed funding round.

[kentstoji]

ㅤㅤ.. ٬ ✃ TIMELESS.

ㅤㅤ pairing. liu kang x princess!reader

ㅤㅤ setting: mortal kombat ¹.

ㅤㅤ type. headcanon.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ‹ 𖤐 MILEENA entered the world with vigorous lungs, her determination intrinsic, and her cries as she left her mother's womb echoed with audacity, a boldness that would only grow with the passing centuries. JERROD felt immeasurable pride as he held her in his arms for the first time.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ‹ 𖤐 meanwhile, KITANA, the younger sister, was a quiet child, but her bright eyes were always fixed on the figure of her older sister, with an uncommon admiration for a baby. however, her devotion began to take shape during the twins' childhood. wherever mileena was, there was always kitana's watchful shadow, observing and protecting her sister, her future empress.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ‹ 𖤐 PRINCESS Y/N, born in the height of winter, when snowflakes blanketed the OUTWORLD'S capital in a vast and pale cloak, was a perfect combination of her sisters and her parents. she inherited jerrod's altruistic heart, SINDEL'S wisdom, mileena's ferocity in singular moments, and kitana's charisma. y/n was cheerful and strived to maintain peace within her family.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ‹ 𖤐 however, despite all the love and joy around her, her heart longed for something more. how could she miss something she had never known? this was the dilemma that consumed her.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ upon reaching adulthood, y/n was introduced to her father's great friend, lord LIU KANG. when their eyes met, the young princess nearly collapsed into her father's arms, but instead, she clung tightly to jerrod's red mantle, seeking stability and confirmation that this was not a dream.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ liu kang, without a doubt, was the embodiment of perfection as her imagination allowed. his face remained unmarred, free from the cruel signs of time, and his firm voice commanded both respect and comfort.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ "the honor is mine, lord liu kang," the still trembling young princess offered a respectful bow. "my father has told me much about you. i'm glad to finally put a face to your name."

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ she struggled to maintain her composure. it was important to keep a mask of formality to avoid revealing how deeply the presence of the demigod affected her emotionally. a new and strange, unfamiliar feeling.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ "likewise, princess," liu kang smiled — and her heart faltered a beat. he was so familiar. "i hope to have the opportunity to meet again."

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ‹ 𖤐 (jerrod raised an eyebrow, watching the interaction but remained silent.)

(thus, whenever liu kang ventured into the outworld, he could be found in the company of jerrod and sindel's youngest daughter. the royal guard accompanied them, but by observing them, it was evident that they were immersed in a shared world, accessible and understood only by them. in one of those moments, jerrod knew that liu kang harbored feelings for his daughter.)

[campaignskyjacks]

The more I think about piracy, the more I believe it is the most structurally sound work situation under capitalism.

Every pirate ship was a worker owned company. If you were part of the crew, you were a literal shareholder. You got paid at least one share out of whatever venture you were involved with, and you got to vote on what the ship would do and who would be captain. That's already a pretty ideal situation, but it gets better.

The Captain is paid a double share as the position was seen as difficult and important work. But that is only twice as much as your general crew. Compare that to today's CEO and it's laughable how much more reasonable it is. It goes even further than that though.

The Captain is likely actually working way more than the rest of the crew. Most pirate ships were heavily overstaffed. The general strategy was you would catch up to a prize, board their ship and have like 200 guys. Merchant ships were staffed by capitalists, so they favored lean staffing. They wanted to pay as little wage as possible to maximize profit on the cargo they were transporting. A ship that would be comfortably staffed by 40 was probably being run by 25 to 30. Pirate ships would have way more people, so if they caught up to you there would be absolutely no way you could fight them off.

All of that means pirates didn't actually have to work that hard¹. There were way more people than actual things to do on a pirate ship. Even considering the fact that there is alot to do to keep a ship running, it's diffused over so many people that you really have a lot of down time as a crew. People like the Capitain, the quartermaster, the navigator, the doctor, or the cook all got somewhere between 1.2-2 shares, but they are working so much more than the average buckaneer.

I know some of you must be thinking "well that sounds very nice but the job gets pretty ugly when you're raiding." And the answer there is sort of. Pirates most certainly engaged in some pretty unsavory work and as crew you would be on the front lines of a lot of that. However situations where crew were actually getting in fights and putting their lives in the line were not the norm. A lot of the time pirates were hitting merchant ships, which once again were really understaffed. These people aren't crazy these people are hired to do a job so they're not going to throw their lives away over a couple dozen barrels of coffee or spice. Most of the time a pirate ship would catch up with a merchant ship, raise black flags, and and the captains of each ship would negotiate a surrender. Most of the time pirates were not requesting all of the cargo because the ideal situation is being able to hit the same ship over and over. You want to skim enough cargo that whoever commissioned the merchant ship isn't going to gripe too much about cargo being lost and complain to the navy. That way your crew can have a steady stream of whatever goods coming through to keep your vessel afloat. So most pirate merchant relationships were pretty transactional. The pirates would show up the merchants would give up abortion of their goods and everybody would go on their way.

Which means most of the time your average crew didn't have to do shit!

Pirates also had benefits. Remember when I mentioned you were going to be paid out "at least" one share? Well, if you lost a limb or something in the line of duty you would be afforded bonus shares to compensate the loss. They had entire systems of calculating disability compensation based on what injuries could be expected and how they saw it affecting your life. So if something bad did happen, you'd have pay to cover it.

It gets even better than this. The name "buckaneer" comes from "barbacoa" which was a type of mobile grill that was popular aboard ships². The folks who sailed were so commonly associated with these grills that people created a nickname for the profession based on the grills they used all the time. You'd see a privateer or a pirate at Port Royal and go "oh look, it's one of those guys who barbecues all the time."

Also, they were fucking queer. You've probably already heard that the term "matey" was a form of piratical gay marriage. If you designated someone else on the crew as your mate, if you died your share would go to them. I have to acknowledge that there is a slight chance that this isn't a 100% gay practice, there are conceivably reasons that someone might identify another person as their mate that doesn't have to do with romance or sex. Not a lot of pirates were literate and not many of them kept records of day-to-day life that really survived for historians to document. We can guess but in most circumstances we don't know for sure. But come on, grow the fuck up. These seadogs were banging.

Piracy and the type of sailing adjacent to piracy was a way for a person to make a life for themselves very far away from most of European society. And because of the way gender roles existed at the time, it's pretty much only men hanging out with men. If you happen to have desires that are unpopular at that time which involve other men, this is a pretty good situation for you.

So yeah piracy is a worker owned endeavor with reasonable compensation for management, benefits, frequent barbecues, and plenty of downtime to have all the queer sex you want.

It's one one those things that only exists because of capitalism, but as a response and a rebuke to it. These were endeavors that were so much more reasonable and fair then the legitimate businesses operating at the time.

And yes there were horrors. There was fighting and killing, torture, and worse. That is what the capitalists and colonizers would like us to remember. These things did really happen. However part of that was an effort to preserve and defend this better life people had made for themselves. To keep it alive inspire of the corporations and nations who would exploit or destroy their way of life.

So yeah, there was a lot about piracy that was violent and fucked up. But the truly wild thing is that it probably made more sense for the people involved then whatever you do right now. The next time you get bummed about your job or place in the world remember that piracy makes more sense.

Then go eat some barbecue and have queer sex.

¹This means in OFMD when Izzy was being a little piss baby about the Stede's crew not working hard enough he was 1000% wrong that's how the vast majority of pirates live their lives.

²Worth mentioning that these grills were originally used by native people, so this cool thing was adopted/appropriated by sailors. It did not originate with them.

[max1461]

Ok, after a few years of mulling around rat-adj tumblr, here are my assessments:

Classic, Yudkowskyan rationalism: super silly but kind of cool. Obviously I don't believe in all the AI apocalypse stuff but it's neat to lurk in their spaces and inhabit their worldview for a bit. I consider myself kind of a connoisseur of funky little worldviews, I like cannibalizing them for interesting insights and tidbits even when I think they're irreparably flawed, and Yudkowskyan rationalism has been kind of a goldmine for this. And I actually do think the basic premise of AI safety research is worthwhile, even if Yudkowsky and co. don't seem to be very good at it. Unfortunately it does seem from what I've heard that some organizations/communities in this part of the rationalist sphere have traits of high-control groups, which is not very good.

SSC-type (or perhaps "Alexandrian"?) rationalism: less silly and less cool. There are definitely some interesting posts on SSC, and I've enjoyed the same kind of "cannibalizing the interesting bits" thing that I've enjoyed with respect to Yudkowskyan rationalism, but overall I find Alexandrian rationalist ideas much more likely to be frustrating instead of entertaining. I think they're generally less out-there, and so less fun, and they also foreground hot-button social issues more often. In terms of specific frustrations, I often feel there is an overwillingness to buy into loose heuristics as gospel, an insufficient skepticism towards received cultural narratives and categorization schemes (I'm struggling to pull up a really representative example here, but for a throwaway case I recall Scott at various points commenting on "the basic difference between Eastern philosophy and Western philosophy", a definite description whose referent I suspect does not exist), a tendency towards insight-porn, and an enthusiasm for ranking and categorizing human beings which I find at best distasteful.

Neartermist/Non-Longtermist Effective Altruism: really good. I don't have any deep insight into the community, but from what I've seen, really good. Making the world a better place. Thinking about seriously important issues. I have almost wholly positive things to say. Almost certainly the best/most important thing to come out of rationalism thus far.

Longtermist Effective Altruism: completely idiotic. A hodge-podge of sci-fi bullshit and megalomaniacal venture capital nonsense. Might be evil if it wasn't so dumb. Nigh-valueless.

[bts-0t-7]

Winter Wonderland | KTH

Pair: Taehyung x F Reader 

Summary: This Christmas, Taehyung and you venture back to his hometown, Daegu. Celebrating it with the whole family this time, you hoped to give Taehyung the best Christmas experience in a while. But he had something more special planned. Amidst the soft glow of festive lights and cosy moments, held the core of the magic. 

Genre: Fluff, Idolxreader, established relationship au

WC: 2861

You were grateful for the silence and peace you were experiencing as you loaded the luggage into the car. Taehyung had come home early a few days ago, running through the house like a kid who got a present, and told you that the both of you would be heading to Daegu to celebrate Christmas this year. Eomma and Appa had constantly been asking to see the both of you but due to Taehyung’s busy schedules, the both of you had kindly declined them for years. 

Of course, you could go on your own but the last time that had happened, you got mobbed at the train station which caused Taehyung to pick up a huge fight with the company. He was determined to give you the security that he, the boys, and their partners got but the company was reluctant as you had not been introduced to the public yet. 

The next few days that passed, Taehyung was constantly restless and wouldn’t let you out of the house. It took a lot of communication and patience between the both of you to finally get through that patch. Tae had insisted on introducing you to Army through Weverse Live. After that incident and busy schedules, the both of you hadn’t been able to make it to Eomma and Appa’s for Christmas. 

This year, Taehyung took some time off work and you… you were currently in the process of opening a business with a close friend of yours. The idea has always sat in the depths of the basket of ideas but due to the high cost of capital, both of you were afraid to take that risk. Now, both of you having a bit higher stability in your financial terms, have finally decided to bite the towel and start. 

Settling into the comfy leather of the car seat, you arranged the snack basket and drinks. Just as Taehyung opened the door and stepped in, you were already arranging the blanket you had brought along with you. Your luggage was placed in the boot while the smaller bags were in the back of the car seat. Taehyung and you had gone on a splurge the day after he told you that you were going back home. More like Taehyung. He stocked up multiple types of foods and clothes and every other thing that he wanted to give his parents and siblings. 

It was a once-in-a-blue moon that the whole family would be together for a whole week, celebrating. So naturally, Tae had prepared… too many things. But you didn’t have the heart to tell your boyfriend that he was overdoing it. You knew how much he missed his family and you weren’t going to stop him. 

On the contrary, you’d help him. Making signature dishes from your home country, you packed them into containers and placed them at the back of the car, ensuring that it was on a safe and stable platform. 

“Ready?” Tae buckled in, a hand immediately going into the basket of food you had prepared to dig out something. 

Smacking his hand, you handed him a roll of kimbap, saying, “Have this instead.”

Taking it from you, he kissed your forehead and drove off, wheels screeching against the coating of the road.

Most of the road trip was filled with music softly playing in the background and munching. Tae was always hungry and you had finally managed to pack his favourite snacks, he was beyond overjoyed at eating them. Taehyung looked over to you, smiling as he found you curled up on the passenger seat. 

Brows furrowing at the uncomfortable position, Taehyung leaned over to carefully recline the seat, one hand on the steering wheel. You fumbled and whined at the movement and Tae was quick to quiet you down, pulling the blanket higher to your neck. Your hair splayed across the seat and your lips were open, emitting a soft snore. Taehyung lowered further the volume of the music, hand coming to your hair and pushing a few stray strands out of your face. 

He was playful once. 

And it isn’t that he is no longer playful. No, Taehyung was still a menace in the house, whining and complaining for your attention - that much he knew. But he felt like he needed it. He felt like he needed to know where you were at, what you were doing, how you were doing. He wanted your attention - craved for it. But he also knew that you liked your space and own time. So he holds it in until every few hours when he would just randomly send you a selfie or update you on how practise is going. 

You never take long to answer his text messages. You were quick to update him on how work was going as well. However, with you starting a business that was long planned with your friend, you weren’t home as often and when you were, you were always exhausted. It took to a level that Taehyung was worried for your health and mental well-being. He knew how important it was to you but he didn’t want you to overwork yourself.

So he asked - more like forced - the management to let him off for the whole week of Christmas. Then, when Eomma and Appa called to ask if you were coming for Christmas this year, Taehyung felt like he hit the jackpot. 

You had never really explored Daegu before and he had always planned to take you there one day so that you could see where he grew up. He would show you all the beautiful places and delicious food, all the playgrounds and parks, schools and roads. He would show you his safest and most secretive places. So, he told Eomma that the both of you would be there a day in advance to help them prepare for the feast the next day. 

Taehyung couldn’t help feeling excited.

As you mumbled in your sleep, he felt his lips tilt up into a soft smile. The roads were fairly empty this early in the morning so he placed a hand on your thigh and continued.

The snowfall of the season was always a magical experience and it felt like the whole world had been transformed. Coming from a country with only one season, you were always beyond ecstatic to see snow. It never fails to amaze you with the chilliness and familiarity you feel. As you and Taehyung walk through the streets of Daegu, you observe the lights adorning the city. They seem to twinkle more at a certain angle but that could just very possibly be from your own excitement. 

Having never explored Daegu well enough, you took every bit of this opportunity to absorb everything you see and hear. The last time you made this trip, you were alone and afraid. But this time, you were with your beloved, and you are determined to make this holiday a memorable one. 

The both of you needed a break and this was just it - with all the festive feels and sparkling lights. 

Going home with the groceries that the both of you freshly bought from the market, the both of you drove home. Eomma and Appa were up and bickering together with Taehyung’s siblings groggily drinking coffee and making kimchi. Most ingredients were already ready the night before. 

“We’re home!” Taehyung yelled.

“Ah - In the kitchen!”

When you stepped in, you were bombarded with warmth. 

Not a physical sense of warmth like a hug but rather, a growing feeling in your chest - similar to one where you would enjoy cuddling time with Tae on the couch. A sense of familial warmth. You must have stopped long enough that Taehyung put the groceries on the table and walked back to you. His eyes worried over your frame and his brows bunched up. 

“Hey… You okay?” Tae gently took the bags from your hands, placing them on the table next to his. Following his movements, you stood beside him and wrapped your arms around his waist, snuggling face-first into his chest. 

Tae’s hand came up to stroke your hair as you hugged him tighter. 

“Need a break? We can skip kimchi making if you don’t feel well. I’m sure Eomma will understand.”

You shook your head. You wanted to have this experience with them. Eomma and Appa were kind enough to let you in on the family tradition and you weren’t going to spoil it. 

“I’m okay, just… happy.”

Taehyung’s eyes drifted over your frame as he tried to explicitly find out what was wrong. But there was no lie in that sentence. You hadn’t felt this way in a long time and a nolgastic feeling just overcame you at that moment. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve felt like this.” You tip-toed, bringing your hand up to ruffle his hair. “I’m okay. Promise.”

Taehyung was sceptical about your reasoning - you could see that. But you most certainly not going to let the feeling wash over you and ruin your day. It was barely nine in the morning and you were going to make this the best Christmas for Tae as possible. 

Picking up a pair of gloves, you wore two layers and squatted down, starting to learn from Eomma how to make the perfect kimchi. In each city and each family, they all have what they depict as the perfect kimchi just like how different families have different perceptions of how perfect rice is cooked. 

As the sun began to set, the both of you stood on the balcony, staring out into the first snowfall. You watched as the snowflakes fell gently to the ground. Taehyung wrapped his arms around you and you leaned into his warm embrace. Passing you a cup of hot chocolate, you gratefully took it from his hands and blew. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Tae whispered, his breath tickling the edge of your ear. 

You nodded. “Perfect, just like you.”

Taehyung chuckled and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “Perfect, you say? I got something that might top this.”

“Oh yeah?” With your curiosity piqued you followed him into the living room. 

You stepped back into the living room, seeing the beautifully decorated Christmas tree that stood proud at the edge, its ornaments glimmered with the holiday magic. The little bells rang as you glided your hand through the figs of the tree. The scent of cinnamon and chocolate filled the air as you saw the spread of cookies and drinks on the coffee table. 

“Taehyung! It’s amazing!” You exclaimed, completely taking in the holiday atmosphere he had created. 

His eyes sparkled under the dim glow of the shining star that was placed on top of the Christmas tree. “I thought we could have a little celebration tonight - just the both of us.” 

“How about Eomma and Appa? And your siblings?” Growing up, your family never really celebrated Christmas but whenever you see families celebrating, they are joyful - together. 

That was the key. It was a time when everybody partied and celebrated togetherness. 

“They went out for some drinks. I told them I got something planned for the both of us.”

“But -”

Taehyung pulled on your arm. “Come on, Jagiya. It’s the twenty-fourth not the twenty-fifth. We’ll be spending all the time together tomorrow!”

You huffed. You wanted to celebrate it well this year after not being together for so long. Especially for Taehyung.

But he had a point. The both of you have the whole week to bond. So you sighed and caved in, climbing onto the sofa and cuddling with your bear. From little treats to shoving food competitively down your throats, to laughter and warm embraces, your evening was filled with the glow of the holiday. 

The evening quickly turned to night, and with the snow, the darkness embraced you earlier. The both of you panted against the couch, tired from all the chasing you did around the house. The both of you had much to clean - you, for one, didn’t like to leave food out overnight and have the family come back to a messy house. 

As the clock struck midnight, you had just finished cleaning the last of the bits and arranging the tables and chairs. 

“Jagiya.” You heard Tae call you from the windows. “Come here.”

Turning around, you left the cloth on the glass top, walking over to your bear with outstretched arms. When the both of you touched, you instantly hugged him, hands dragging under his clothes, seeking his warmth. 

Taehyung hissed at the coolness of your fingertips but didn’t pull away. Oh, he was soaking in your attention. The past few hours felt like heaven. He didn’t have much time to spend with you due to the nature of both your works. Sometimes when he was home, you weren’t; when he was asleep you were out doing your job. However, on certain occasions when the both of you are home, all the both of you think is ‘the bed’. 

So today, the time you spent together made him feel alive again. Alive - in so many different ways. But Taehyung did not prepare this feast without another purpose. Primarily, he had hoped that you would let go and laugh again - play again.

To be a kid again. 

To show you the love he has for you. 

But at the same time, he had done this… so that he, could do this. 

Leading you to the window the both of you looked out, seeing the snow creating a serene blanket of white. It had covered the majority of the roads and you knew that by the time daytime come, it would probably be deep enough to make snow angels. 

“Make a wish on the first star you see,” Taehyung said, pointing to a bright star in the night sky. 

You closed your eyes and made your wish. Finishing, you turned back to Taehyung and found him holding a small velvet box. 

No. Way.

“Before we exchange gifts, there is something I need to ask you. I promise this isn’t the only gift I got you.” Taehyung laughed, eyes nervously skimming everywhere. Taking a deep breath, he looked at you, eyes filled with love and anticipation. Dropping on one knee, Taehyung opened the box and held it out to you. 

Your heart pounded in your chest and you could barely contain your excitement. Sitting gently in the middle of the box was a delicate, sparkling ring. 

“You’ve been through thick and thin with me - helped me. You had made me a better person than who I was. You taught me so many things and -” Taehyung rubbed his face with one hand. He sighed. “I’m not good with sticking to the script so, just - Y/N, will you marry me?”

Time felt like it stood still after Taehyung proposed to you. It was probably just a few seconds but -

It felt like your memories were flowing past you like a movie. 

The first time you met, the first awkward date, the first kiss, first - everything…? You had so many things you wanted to tell him - so many ‘I love you’s to say. 

Tears welled up in your eyes and you nodded vigorously. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes - Taehyung, oh my gosh, yes!”

The boxy smile that formed on his face felt brighter than the shine of the star on top of the Christmas tree. He slipped the ring onto your finger, sealing your engagement with a tender kiss. 

You had hoped to plan the best Christmas for Taehyung but he most certainly, outdid you. And this magic was one that neither of you would ever forget. 

You awoke to the smell of delicious breakfast wafting through the open door. You wrapped yourself in the warm blanket - your only form of warmth right now - and made your way down, following your nose to the source of the mouthwatering scent. 

Taehyung was standing at the island, expertly cutting a range of fruits while his brother flipped pancakes. The moment he heard you come in, he turned to you and grinned. “Good morning, fiancèe.”

You couldn’t help but blush at the term. It was something new and exciting. “Good morning husband-to-be.”

“Fiancée? Husband-to-be?” Jeon-Gyu pondered, turning to Taehyung. “So this was your plan last night, hyung?”

Jeon-Gyu carried an offending look on his face. “Hyung!”

Taeyhyung just ignored him and hugged you from the back. “There’s nothing wrong with needing you all out of the house when I proposed. It is a time for Y/N and I.”

“But hyung -”

“Plus,” Taehyung cut in. “I believe none of you would like to have heard what went down too.”

The silence was deafening. You stood rigid against Taehyung, cheeks flaring up. 

“No - no, we most certainly wouldn’t.” 

Taehyung whipped around. 

Eomma, Appa, and Eun Jun stood at the threshold of the door to the kitchen. Eun Jun looked smug as if she knew what was coming while Eomma and Appa looked flustered, walking in on a situation. 

Taehyung groaned in embarrassment against your shoulder as your cheeks burned an even deeper shade of red. 

[themotherofhorses]

I think it’s time to be real, Vic. I am genuinely very disappointed at the fact that you decided to murder handmaid, despite so many of your readers begging you to not go through with it. I read through your “handmaid” tag and it seems like a good majority voted against it. Do you not care for them? Do you not value their own input and opinions? Honestly, what was the point of building up such a gorgeous romance only to butcher it at the very end? Plus the violence you shared in that snippet is equally disturbing and unnecessary, especially being aimed at small children.

“Her twins are dead – their tiny, broken bodies strewn near their father’s desk. One is missing his head, if she is correct. Was it Aemion? Aenar?”

Yikes.

I think this is very telling. But, in the end, you are an adult. Do what you want to do, but just know that this decision will cost you some of your biggest fans, myself included.

Hello anon! I’m gonna use proper capitalization and punctuation to answer this because …. woah. LMAO.

I hear you, I see you, I feel you.

But let’s have a friendly little conversation: at the end of the day, this is fucking FANFICTION. It is NOT real! There is literally no need to be this upset over something as silly as words being typed up in a word doc. I promise you that it does not equal the ending of the world.

(But also let’s be real, if handmaid was canon in F&B, GRRM would’ve probably killed her off too. It is rare that something so good and pure actually survives within the world of Westeros.)

Listen, I understand that many people didn’t want handmaid (and her children) to meet such a horrible fate; that is why I decided to offer two “canon” endings — an angst and a happy one. That way you can easily ignore the angst ending in favor of the happy one!! Problem solved.

But ….. but you are also treading through the Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon fandom.

Major character death, extreme acts of violence, and heartbreak is expected. Have you actually read F&B? Literally everyone DIES in the book. They all meet such gruesome fates, including the children. Just look at Helaena! At Jaehaerys! No one is safe.

One of the most common themes found inside ASOIAF is “the innocent always pays the price for the actions of their rulers.”

In my handmaid series, handmaid/Anya (+her children) endure the consequences of Aemond’s actions at Storm’s End (and, by extension, the actions of the Greens usurping the throne following the death of Viserys). I’d argue that her death ventures incredibly close to canon-level material.

You do not need to read this upcoming fanfic update. I will not hold you responsible for such. No feelings will be hurt, I promise. As I mentioned in previous replies, the happy ending will soon follow; in fact, “hair braiding” and “family picnic” are canon to the happy ending!

So let’s all chill out. Take a deep breath, eat a snickers bar, go scratch a dog between their ears.