Tumgik
#and their childhood friends who love them and love the world and will fight against their destruction in the name of both loves
Text
A Sinner Deserves Their Saint - LN
Summary: Lando and Max's childhood friend went down a path that neither could stop her from going down. Last time Lando saw her, he was certain he'd never see her again.
Themes: Drug addiction/abuse, overdose
Important: There's not going to be a part 2
Tumblr media
2021
Lando groans as his phone rings. He should've put it on do not disturb.
"Hello?" Lando grunts then frowning when he hears panting.
"Lan, I-I don't know what happened. She was fine-she was the life of the party. She disappeared and then we-we looked for her an-"
"Max! What the fuck are you talking about?" Lando questions cutting in.
"Y/n took something-again! She took something again and she wasn't breathing. We're in the hospital now but they're not telling us anything. I didn't know who to call...they just keep saying she's being seen to." Max splutters out clearly still in shock and looking to rely on the one person who might understand his panic.
Y/n had started doing drugs recreationally about two years ago, at first she said it was just for the buzz on nights out and for a while that seemed to be the case. Then they started catching her do lines when she'd wake up and she explained it as just needing a pick me up.
The first time she took it too far and landed herself in hospital was 3 months ago. This is the 4th time she'd ended up in hospital.
"I'm on my way." Lando states after managing to get which hospital out of Max.
And an hour later he found himself in the hospital finding his shellshocked best friend.
"Any updates?"
"Uhh...it was amphetamine and mephedrone. Her-Her heart stopped and they got it going again but...they have her in the ICU and only family can see her. They're talking with the doctors."
Lando felt like the world was caving in around him, memories of them all as kids at karting. Innocent kids who had the world to claim as their own.
The two young men end up holding each other tightly in a hug.
"I'll drive us home. We'll come back and try to see her tomorrow."
They did try. They tried many times. Sometimes both of them, sometimes Lando had to go to races and work but Max kept going back.
Eventually, y/n was deemed well enough to leave and while her family wanted to force her to rehab. She wouldn't accept it and their options were to give her a place to at least sleep and let them know she is alive or to kick her out and risk finding out through a call from the police that they don't have a daughter to worry about anymore.
But after a month, Lando finally gets to see her.
She may not be detained by a rehab but her parents have done well to keep her locked in the house.
"Well if it isn't another face here to lecture and guilt trip me." Y/n scoffs curled up by her window looking almost as if she's mimicking Rapunzel locked in her tower away from the world. Only in her case it to keep her from hurting herself.
Though he'd bet she has stashed drugs to keep herself from smashing the window for her freedom.
"I just want to know you're ok." Lando states, having been warned she was in no good mood as of recent and he'd be unlikely to receive a warm welcome. "I want to help you, if I can, y/n."
"You can't." She snaps sharp eyes glaring at him. "And even if you could. I don't want your help. I don't want your pity. I don't want you to stand there and act like I'm unhappy doing drugs."
Something about her not realising how much she's hurting the people around her boils his blood in a way he never expected to feel with her.
"No. You're perfectly happy dying! You're happy making everyone around you miserably because they love you and you want to fuck up your life for drugs." Lando spits back, now having no sympathy. Though in his gut, his stomach is twisting.
Y/n seems to have nothing to say to that, returning to her balled up position leaning her forehead against a window.
"I didn't come here to fight, y/n." Lando sighs in defeat since he really just wanted to see her, to hold her and feel with his own hands that she's alive.
"I don't want you here, Lando." Y/n states with a voice that's void of emotion, icy is warmer than her tone right now.
So her leaves and he decides in that moment that if she doesn't want him there and she's made it very clear she has no interest in improving her own life. He'll just wait to attend her funeral in a few months. Her family would want him there.
Present time
"Do you know who I saw?" Max asks randomly as he sits getting ready to do a stream. Not quite live yet.
"Who?" Lando hums looking at his phone.
"Y/n."
The name makes the air around them still. Max knows Lando was so hurt by her reckless behaviour and heartless words.
"She's clean." He adds making Lando hum. "She apologised for everything. Especially the last time I saw her."
Y/n had been just as harsh if not worse to Max than she was to Lando.
"Did she seem happy?" Lando asks genuinely wanting to know.
"She seemed healthy. I don't know about happy...she started crying when she saw me. Hugged me pretty hard and we talked for a few hours." Max admits then turning. "Said she missed us."
"She only has herself to blame for that." Lando shrugs coldly. It still hurts and he'd prepared himself to never see herself again along with being ready to accept that he'd probably attend her funeral. "It's good she's clean and healthy though."
"You should go see her." Max states earning a sigh since Lando knew it was coming. "Lando...the two of you were closer than I ever was with her, don't tell me you don't want to see her."
"It's not like it's that simple, it is?" Lando frowns shaking his head. "It's great, I'm happy that she's better. That she's realised how much she was fucking up. But it's not that simple is it?"
"It'd be a lot more simply if you'd agree to see her...she asked after you, said she'd finally gone to rehab-"
"You're late to stream. I'm going home." Lando mutters standing up from the bed and moving to bump fists as a goodbye while Max nods.
He knew the risk of bringing y/n up. He'd spoken about her before one or twice since Lando last saw her and it was never received warmly. It wasn't as if he was updating the F1 driver, but more just reliving old memories or commenting on how she may be.
The next week is spent with Lando's brain fogged up by y/n.
Eventually he decides he can't go into a race weekend not having clarity about her. So he calls her parents who give him her number and he calls her. Feeling his heart thud hard.
He followed up calling her directly after calling her parents so she has no warning of his call.
"Hello?"
"Y/n?" Lando mumbles almost not recognising her voice or feeling surreal in hearing it.
"That's me. Who's this?"
"It's...Lando. I got your number from your parents."
"Lando? Oh I wasn't-Max...he spoke to you-I told him not to mention it. You shouldn't feel obligated to speak to me because I spoke to him." Y/n sighs sounding guilty about the matter.
"Where are you?"
"Um...I'm food shopping. Why?"
"I want to see you. Know for certain if Max was telling the truth."
"Oh-Okay. I uhh...I can come to your place from here if you want?"
"No. Send me your address, I'll come to you if you're food shopping." Lando states quickly then clearing his throat. "Just send me your address on this number, please."
"Ok." Y/n mumbles then clearing her throat. "I'll send it over. And see you soon."
Lando's heart is beating up his lungs from how hard it's beating. But he did it and he's going to see y/n. A woman who he's refused to talk about but has never been far from his mind is finally going to reappear in his life.
He was really certain he'd be attending his funeral, he was always just waiting for the call or message informing that she'd finally succumb to her demons.
She sends her address which isn't too far from her parents house, probably then who found it for her. Maybe a step of building trust to prove that she's made progress and they want her to know that they believe she can do it on her own.
There's some shame in Lando thinking that it's an error on their part.
Less than an hour after the phone call he finds himself seated in her living room. Her getting him a glass of water on his accepting of the offer for a drink.
"So you got yourself together." Lando comments as she returns, looking just as nervous as she has since she let him in.
She looks younger than when he last saw her. Her face not so hollowed, he'd not really noticed how unhealthy she'd got with not eating thanks to drugs pushing any hunger to the side.
"You look good, y/n." Lando comments while she manages a sad smile. "Don't look at me like that, y/n. I'm not the one who died."
"No, and it wasn't your parents who signed a DNR after the last time it happened."
"A DNR?"
"I went into a coma, no brain activity for a few days about 8 months after the last time I saw you. They told the doctors if I flatlined again to not resuscitate." Y/n sighs then clearing her throat when her eyes tear up. "I woke up after two weeks. Thankfully I was through most of my withdrawal."
"Is that when you got clean?"
"Yeah, well...I was sick of being the worst person everyone could think of and I think when parents decide their own child is not worth saving, that's when you've got to realise how much damage you're causing. I'm just sorry I didn't listen to you, Lando."
"You don't need to be sorry, you were...not thinking right." Lando shrugs then sighing. "I'm just glad I wasn't right about thinking that I'd never see you alive again after that day."
Y/n seems to pale at that statement, tears filling her eyes again before she blinks a few times.
"Do you know what's overdue?" Lando asks trying to lighten the mood.
"What?
"A hug, give me a hug." Lando smiles making her smile and move closer, hugging him tightly as he wraps his arms around her. "I've missed you so much, y/n."
"I missed you too. But I think being sober and realising what I'd let myself lose was for the better."
Lando sighs holding her tightly his chin resting on her shoulder as her looks at her with a tired expression.
"I think my mum was actually angrier at me with the way I treated you and Max than over the fact I was doing drugs." Y/n smiles softly while leaning to rest her head on top of his. "I really let someone good go."
"I've got a race this weekend, you should come out with me." Lando states since seeing her, now he really just wants to reconcile.
"I'd like that." Y/n nods then biting her lip a little.
-
Y/n is actually vaguely recognised from earlier fans of Lando's career. She was just as actively supportive over him and before that finally overdose that ended their friendship, she was still very much a big person in his life.
It never really got out what happened as to why she disappeared, but her reappearance has gained attention from fans. Especially since Lando was holding her hand so tightly his knuckles were white.
"Feels weird." Y/n mumbles as Lando does the track walk with her. "Like I don't belong in this part of your life anymore."
"Well I feel like you do." Lando shrugs since he knows all that is happening is her anxiety is getting the better of her, forcing emotions to surface. "And I want you here."
Y/n looks at him unsure of sharing his certainty.
"You treat me better than I deserve." Y/n whispers making him shake his head at her.
"You deserve the world, y/n." Lando states deciding that if there's any time to get honest with her it's now since the team isn't with him on the track walk, he wanted to do it just with y/n. "I thought we were going to get married one day before everything happened."
"Y-You did?" Y/n chokes out earning a nod. "We weren't even dating."
"We weren't, but it was sort of inevitable that we were going to get there one day. Anyway, don't act like we didn't sleep together." Lando shrugs feeling more and more confident about it since she's not denying him or saying there was no chance because the idea disgusts her. "Maybe we could...try?"
They actually slept together as part of a promise to each other, if Lando and herself hadn't lost their virginity as part of celebrating a race win. They both told themselves that it was a matter of sticking with someone they trusted for their first times. But anyone could debate about their truth feelings and intentions with each other.
"Sleeping together again, dating or marriage?" Y/n teases apparently somewhat settled in her nerves. "I could go on a date, but I feel like trusting you to plan a date comes with risks."
"I could plan a date with you, no problem."
"Yeah?"
"Yes."
"What ideas you got rattling around in there?"
"I'm not telling you, that will spoil the fun." Lando smirks then looking at her for a moment, noticing her expression. "What?"
"Just hoping you've improved in bed since we slept together, or one of us is going to be very embarrassed."
"I mean you weren't the best virgin in the world."
"I know, but I also know I've significantly improved on my game."
"You're unbelievable, how am I supposed to trust that's true?" Lando challenges watching her jaw drop while he laughs knowing that she's not really offended at the suggests.
"Guess we may need to get on a date then find out how good we are pretty soon." Y/n hums making Lando smirk a little.
"Still proving you're the smartest and most rational person I know."
"Because I'm saying we should go on a date and have sex? Not sure that's quite true." Y/n laughs before she finds herself picked up into a hug and spun around as they walk.
He only carries her a few steps before capturing her in a kiss that actually she wasn't expecting but she's certainly not mad about.
"Alright, well your kissing game has improved." Y/n teases earning an eye roll.
"Yours could use to work, but I'll help you with that."
933 notes · View notes
itmeblog · 2 months
Text
It's Black History Month
(Over here in the US of A) So here are some podcasts to check out.
Absolutely no Adventures - a fantasy (un)adventure story that follows Sig, the owner of Signature Eats bakery, as he aggressively avoids becoming embroiled in any daring quests or chosen one shenanigans even though the universe really seems to want him to do just that. This is a story about cutting Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey off at the knees to chill with friends and staying far, far away from the slightest whiff of adventure. And also baking. This is also a story about baking.
Afflicted - Lovecraft Country meets True Blood in this new series from award-winning producers Tonia Ransom and Jen Zink. In season one, a small East Texas town suffers supernatural disasters caused by a demonic book bound in human flesh…and only hoodoo can save the town from its affliction.
Apollyon - In the early 22nd century, the Apollyon virus wiped out 75% of the world’s population, and now most of the world is governed by the International Conglomerate of Research Scientists. Dr. Theo Ramsey is an ICRS research scientist who may have just discovered an effective vaccine for Apollyon, but the stakes to get the vaccine to the public are higher than she ever imagined.
Between Heartbeats - Tan immersive Urban Fantasy about the hurt, the powerful, and their growth within a broken world. We follow Sundiata, a guilt-ridden time manipulator with a knack for unemployment, and Nadia, a moralistic telepath determined not to lose control, as they balance frayed mental health against an unsympathetic police state. But when a malevolent presence rears is head, their neuroses become the least of their problems. Can our heroes make the most of their abilities before the option is taken from them?
Fan Wars: The Empire Claps Back - Two passionate Star Wars fans on opposite sides of the Last Jedi debate argue via Skype after their favorite forum closes down. If you love Star Wars (or call yourself a proud member of any fandom), you’ll love this romantic comedy told via
Harlem Queen - a Black historical fiction audio drama based on the life and times of Black, woman, "gangster" Madame Stephanie St. Clair during the Harlem Renaissance.
His Royal Fakin' Highness - What if Ophelia helped Hamlet get his throne back? This modern day, romantic comedy re-imagining of Shakespeare's Hamlet asks just that. As they stage an engagement in the wake of the king's death, these childhood frenemies must decide between duty and love.
InCo (This one's mine :D) - A Sci-Fi story about a disgruntled information seller, a mysterious space boy, and an android doing her best.
Janus Descending - a limited series, science fiction/horror audio drama podcast, follows the arrival of two xenoarcheologists on a small world orbiting a binary star. But what starts off as an expedition to survey the planet and the remains of a lost alien civilization, turns into a monstrous game of cat and mouse, as the two scientists are left to face the creatures that killed the planet in the first place.
Lady Lucy - Lady Lucy is an audio drama inspired by Shakespeare's "Dark Lady" Sonnets, 127-154. Between running her brothel, fighting the Church, murdering her friends' abusive husbands, and pretending to be a poet, the last thing Lucy needed back in 1586 was a surprise visit from her former flame... Will Shakespeare.
Liars and Leeches - Tonya Wright felt it all after the tragic murders of her sister and brother-in-law in a random act of gun violence. Struggling to travel outside of her home, she now lives constantly on edge about perceived threats that seem to surround her.
Nightlight - Multi-award winning horror podcast featuring creepy stories with full audio production written by Black writers and performed by Black actors. So scary it’ll make you want to leave your night light on.
Null /Void - a science fiction audio drama about a young woman, Piper Lee, whose life is saved by a mysterious voice named Adelaide. Piper soon uncovers a malicious plot by a monopoly of a tech company and must work with her friends and an unusual ally to help foil their deadly plot.
Out of Ashes - (currently remastering season 1) Follow a group of survivors as they navigate the ruins of modern civilization and battle against demons, ghosts, monsters and the looming threat of extinction from an ancient power.
Small Victories - A recently recovered drug addict tries to start her new lease on life, too bad life has it out for her.  This dramatic comedy follows Marisol through the ups and downs of her life.
The Courtship of Mona Mae - In the 1870s, pioneers Mona Mae Christophe and Zekial Montgomery search the American West for Mona Mae's mother, Clara. Mona must recall a past, long forgotten in order to survive, so that she can find her mother, love and create a way of life for herself.
Vega a Sci-Fi Adventure Podcast - In a fantasy futuristic world, Vega Rex is employed by her government to kill off the world's worst criminals. She's never met a criminal she couldn't catch…until now. Join Vega as she journeys through a world of bumbling apprentices, powerful technogods, and her biggest challenge yet. Hosted by Ivuoma Hall.
Witchever Path - is an anthology series where your decisions effect the story. Our stories are based in America’s NorthEast, featuring characters finding themselves in the thick of the unknown while tackling issues like queer identity, gender, race, and spirituality. Stories often focus on the communities not typically seen in stories taking place in New England, and giving voice to the perspectives of those communities while uniting under some universal themes. And the supernatural happens. A lot.
(All descriptions were taken from websites)
If you want to find more and there are way more there's a directory :D
550 notes · View notes
missglaskin · 3 months
Text
Yandere Coriolanus Snow (Romantic) would include:
Tumblr media
Tags: fem/Capitol!reader, implied naive!reader, toxic relationship, manipulativeness, lovesick!Coryo, controlling, possessive behavior, isolation, implied forced marriage, Coriolanus is his own warning, messy writing
Coriolanus harbors an insatiable desire for possession and control. This desire towards control was woven into the fabric of his very being through the childhood he had. The war took both his parents, leaving him, Tigress, and his grandmother to lose all their prestige and wealth. The only thing that remained was his name. For Coriolanus, control was needed, after all, survival hinges on the relentless pursuit of ambition. In his world, love itself is entangled with the need for control-a vessel through which he can only claim you for himself.
Coriolanus possesses a distinctive charm; able to tailor himself to align with your virtues and inclinations. Able to don many faces - a devoted son striving to make his family proud, a diligent student who gets along well with his classmates and has the praise of his teachers, a trustworthy and loyal friend. It’s no different to you; he may begin as a stranger, but he can and will integrate himself into your friend group, becoming an acquaintance to a dear friend, and perhaps, evolving into something more.
You spark an internal conflict within Coriolanus. A part of him resents how you seem to have a hold on him. In moments when you hand him something, and he can feel the brush of your fingers against his; fighting the urge to stroke them. Or in crowded hallways, where you accidentally bump into him, apologizing but it falls on deaf ears, where his mind is consumed with a desire to to hold your body against his. You make him lose control, the control he works so hard to maintain. 
Many times, he tried to convince himself that he wasn't in too deep, it only takes time for these feelings to pass. He can think of more beautiful girls in the academy, ones who are more intelligent, resourceful, and undoubtedly wealthier than you. But yet, he’s the first to notice when you walk into the room. how his ears seem to instinctively seek the sound of your voice, and as he turns, he always knows where to find you.
He would, at least in the beginning, never openly display his interest in you. If there’s one thing Coriolanus never wants to seem, is desperate. But the second your name is mentioned in a conversation, ever the opportunist, he’ll try to gather every little detail. Most of his discoveries come from watching you, attentively listening to your inputs during class, noting where you spend your time, observing your food preferences. 
He pays close attention to how you style yourself - everyone has a dress code, but where you choose to place your pins, how you tuck in your shirt, how you style your hair are the little details, not many notice. He will be sure to make a mention when you make any changes; savoring a moment of triumph when you claim he’s the first to notice.
A constant aspect of Coriolanus is his unrelenting judgment and scrutiny. He holds the belief that he can lead you to become the best version of yourself, someone who understands your needs better than anyone else, even you. He can’t help but think how you’re wasting your future spending time with students who seem to lack any ambition or dedication to their studies. How you’re too ‘kind’ allowing others to walk over you, and besides other male students will get the wrong idea. 
You’re not even together, yet everything you do appears to reflect on him. Even when he tries to keep up with your interests and hobbies, he wears a disapproving frown upon discovering your penchant for romance books. He’ll of course read them, but can’t help but lament over how you should delve into more scholarly literature. He reassures himself in due time that he’ll implement all those necessary changes in you, molding you into the person he envisions you should be.
Coriolanus knows what his end goal is; to have you by his side; bound to him and what other conventional means to achieve this than through marriage. A bit of that also aids into his desperation in his pursuit of the Plinth prize. Knowing he cannot bring you to his home or shower you with extravagant gifts, he makes do with the cakes Tigris makes or the white roses of his grandmother. 
He could thank Tigris for suggesting places he can take you, creating excuses for the long walks; he merely wants to engage in conversations away from everyone to understand you better. Coriolanus also takes deliberate steps to become acquainted with your parents, showing impeccable manners during the few meetings. His goal is in the hopes that your parents push you towards him, after all, nearly everyone around you anticipates something to come from your interactions.
Even when you finally become his, it fails to calm the intense storm of jealousy that rages within him. Coriolanus is a man who meticulously weighs the benefits and costs of every action, he believes there’s a reason behind everything you do. In the initial stages of the relationship, he is determined not to reveal that ugly side of his, like everything else it’s all tied to his need of control.
Coriolanus is a man who cannot be left alone with his thoughts. Otherwise he’ll rethink every interaction you’ve had, from how you greeted that one person in the morning with such gleefulness. Are you happier to see them than him? How you placed a hand on someone’s shoulder while sharing a laugh at what he deems a childish joke.
Even the mere mention of past relationships triggers anger in him; he wants to be the first to claim every aspect of you. Unbeknownst to you, even casually mentioning them is signing their death warrant. Their name becomes etched in his memory with plans to be rid of them, especially during his days of presidency.
Coriolanus consistently seeks out boundaries to push, careful to appear that he’s not making demands but rather that he’s looking out for you. He wants you to take his input as truth. When Coriolanus compliments on how red looks good on you, he anticipates seeing it incorporated the next time he sees you. If your hair is long enough, he comments on how it beautifully frames your face when pulled up. He’ll make a comment on how you shouldn’t slouch, resisting a smile at how quickly you heed to his words. 
The day Coriolanus returned from his time at the district, something had changed. He made a promise to return, pressing a searing kiss to your lips and made you promise in return to wait for him no matter how many years it took. True to his word, he has returned with you being his his first stop after Ghul of course. He was still Coriolanus, though no longer did he have his boyish blonde curls and time of training made his muscles defined through his uniform of duty. 
The change became apparent when he became the Plinth’s family heir. No longer did he need to do with the little he had. Bringing you into the Snow mansion and the simple trinkets have turned into luxury. Your wardrobe has already been chosen for you and  filled to the brim, taking notice of how most of its colors are crimson, white-pearled and arctic. Many had intricate patterns, adorned with roses etched into the fabric, complemented by grand rose pins. 
It's advised to acclimate to the Mansion, to embrace it as your new home as that’s where you’ll spend most of your time. Coriolanus isolates you, he now has the power to turn every one of your friends against you and in return, he comforts you, reminding you of his earlier warnings on how your friends seemed indifferent to your well-being. Your visits and calls to your family dwindle as Coriolanus no longer sees a need to remain in their good graces. After all, you are now his wife, a member of the Snow family. 
With your servants and cooks, clear instructions are given; to not speak with you unless it’s relaying a message directly from your husband. If you persistently attempt to speak with them or worse befriend them, they are likely to be replaced. In worse circumstances, if they attempt anything that Coriolanus deems as traitorous, they may be subjected to becoming an Avox; a lesson not only for them but for you as well. 
He, of course, allows you to accompany him to galas; public appearances are deemed necessary; portraying him as a loving husband (a role he genuinely believes in) and you, as a devoted wife. During public appearances, every action is done with caution. Not only are you a reflection of him and the Snow name, but you also soon will become the future lady of Panem. 
You were allowed to be alone with two people only, at least initially; his grandmother and Tigris. It’s unsure if his grandmother notices her grandson’s behavior, still she’ll only speak praises of him. Repeating how fortunate you are to have him as a husband, to marry into their family.
Tigris on the other hand, offers a semblance of solace. She treats you well, yet beneath her kindness, sometimes you discern a glance of sadness, almost pity. Sometimes, she questions if you’re being treated well and you respond with what you’ve been practiced to say. And despite her skepticism, she never presses further, as if understanding that doing so might jeopardize any possibility of being alone with you ever again. 
Coriolanus revels in returning home to you. In his eyes, he believes he has attained everything he desired: the restoration of his family's name to its past glory, the regaining of its respect and prestige. How close he’s to be able to reside over Panem, and finally, having you.
Although you might think he doesn’t notice, he does. He notices how you gaze out of the window, your attempts to reason with him, how you do all you can do to make his day better when wanting your usual favors. He notices the concealed frown when the topic of children is mentioned. He knows when you lie. A promise later on, that he made you swear to never break. 
But he also notices that despite knowing what he has done. Years and years of marriage no longer allow secrets to be concealed. You’re keenly aware of all those who’ve gone missing, including a politician who you recall foolishly making a pass at you. The sores on his lips tell of all those moments you’re never allowed to attend.
Yet, you remain by his side. Perhaps you’ve fully accepted the man he always was - a monster not one that he has become, but who he always was. Even when watching the hunger games, even when you have to stand by him and greet each child you know are sending to their death. Or perhaps in a twisted form of love that mirrors his own, you’ve grown to love him. 
Over the years, there have been moments when you questioned if you were truly safe even with decades of marriage and giving him children who in turn gifted you with grandchildren. However, as you gaze at the man whose youthful looks have faded, who still greets you with a kiss to your hand just as he did in your younger days, you find a sense of security - for now.
851 notes · View notes
Text
relief.
Tumblr media
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Sub!Smoke x Dom!Reader
Word Count: 8.5k
Warnings: first person POV (no use of y/n), AFAB reader, oral sex (receiving and giving), porn with plot, face sitting, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, love bites, dirty talking, praise, play fighting, mentions of past wounds, after care
A/N: So this is a pretty exciting fic for a few reasons! First, I've been a pretty life long Mortal Kombat fan but have never really been comfortable in my writing to actually do anything. Second, this is my first fully in first person fanfic! I've been writing self inserts for a decade (holy shit) and repeating "you" over and over again has lost it's big appeal. It felt nice actually having more pronouns to use. Third, this is my first cross posted fic on AO3. If you would like to read it there instead here's the link
Tumblr media Tumblr media
“Welcome,” my sister, Harumi Shirai, announces to the handful of men bowing in front of us. “I’m honored you’ve called upon us in your time of need. May you find our home to your liking.” The man in yellow stood, fist clasped to his chest. His face was nearly unreadable with the large mask covering half of it. A harsh scar was carved over his right eye. 
“Thank you for your aid Lady Harumi,” his voice was gruff. Kuai Liang had changed considerably since I had seen him last. He was once a young teen, with a chip on his shoulder to be better than his brother Bi-Han. I was too young to truly speak to him. I was much more interested in my dolls than play fighting with the foreign ninjas. But I do remember that he was always polite, letting me babble at him during our dinners, even when Harumi begged me to not “embarrass” her. But what are little sisters for if not disobeying orders? 
I did not, however, recognize the man in gray next to Kuai Liang. Harumi had told me of an orphan that was brought in the former Lin Kuei Grandmaster’s family, Tomas Vrbada. I had never met him. By the time he was brought into the Lin Kuei, the family couldn’t safely travel from their region and our contact dissolved. 
Until now. 
When we received Kuai Liang’s plea for sanctuary, I was against it. The Lin Kuei had become volatile and I wanted no part of it. It was better to let the brothers war. It wasn’t our fight. But ultimately Harumi made the decision. “We can only grow in power with this addition,” she assured me. I trusted my sister completely but I worried childhood nostalgia was clouding her judgment. Seeing how few Lin Kuei made the journey didn’t ease my stress. They could be the greatest ninjas in the world but only fifteen of them would not stop the full might of Bi-Han once he appeared on our shores. 
“What is aid between childhood friends? Our families were once deeply intertwined, I only wish to regrow that.” Harumi bowed and I followed suit, lower than her as a better show of respect. “Now please!” Her voice titled in excitement. “Please follow us, I’m sure you are all hungry after your travels.” The Lin Kuei all shouted their thank you s before standing. I only caught a glance of Tomas, pale skin and gray mask, before turning to follow behind Harumi. I wanted to voice my worries, to get this nauseous anxiety out, but I feared being overheard. Kuai Liang caught up to Harumi and I. He gave a small incline of his head before engaging my sister in conversation. I understood his signal and drifted behind them. 
Clearly, Tomas also knew his position as second in command well because I found myself next to him. We walked in silence for a few moments, passing by our overflowing garden on the way to the dinning hall. “Hello,” Tomas said in a gentle voice. He didn’t offer his name, knowing that I most likely already knew exactly who he was. 
“Hello,” I returned. “I hope your journey was pleasant.” Tomas gave a small chuckle as we rounded a corner, the hall at the end of the path we were on. 
“It was stressful but we are thankful to have somewhere so beautiful to rest. I know Kuai Liang already said it, but we appreciate our new home and the kindness.” I glanced up at him, his blue eyes snagging mine. 
“I will pass your words onto Harumi, Tomas.” 
The door to the hall had been thrown open. Several tables were lined end to end, heavy with bowls of stews, plates of  fish, dishes of rice, and platters of vegetables. There were two cushions at the head of the table. Normally the Grandmaster and their spouse would sit there, as our parents did. But after their deaths, Harumi and I would take the head. Harumi hadn’t had much time to find a husband, despite the pressure from our family. I knew that Kuai Liang would most likely take the cushion next to Harumi so I took the second cushion directly to the left to stay next to my sister. 
Harumi cleared her throat before kneeling next to me. Silence immediately fell, all heads facing her. “If we may have a moment of silence for all the Lin Kuei who could not join us.” The silence was heavy with grief, for those dead and those who were still alive, but lost to Bi-Han’s ego. “Please enjoy the meal,” Harumi finally said. The men around us all launched forward, loading up their plates with any food in arms reach. Harumi and Kuai Liang settled next to each other. He had immediately pulled her into conversation. It was impressive how quickly he seemed to have her undivided attention. 
I filled my plate, eating slowly. That creeping anxiety hadn’t pulled away and my stomach was in knots. I appraised all the new men around us. Perhaps it was my own worry but they did not seem the gift Harumi tried to convince me they were. They were weary from travel, some with bandages around their arms or bruises blooming on their jaws. If rumors were to be believed, Bi-Han had come in contact with something so powerful that he was able to start this civil war. That idea had wormed deep into my brain and refused to leave. What was it? A weapon? A spell? An army? Whatever it was, these men weren’t ready for it. 
None of us were. 
The sound of my name drew my attention to the table around me. Harumi, her face annoyed, and Kuai Liang were looking at me. Kuai Liang was quite handsome without his mask. He seemed to have grown into the full lips and sharp cheekbones that I remembered, his face filling out with age. “Apologies, lost in my thoughts.” 
“I asked if you were well,” Kuai Liang’s voice was much smoother without his mask. “You look pale.” Harumi narrowed her eyes at me. The message was clear. Lie. She knew exactly what I was thinking of, how deep my anxiety was. 
“Yes,” I said with a forced laugh, “of course.” 
“We haven’t had visitors in such a long time, it seems to have intimidated her.” Harumi flashed a smile that seemed to distract Kuai Liang. I could still feel eyes on me and the fine layer of hair on my neck stood. My eyes darted down the table, searching for my watcher. But none of our guests were looking anywhere but at their food. Finally I glanced directly across from me, my eyes locking with Tomas’s. 
His eyes, stormy blue, were tracing my face, trying to see something in my features. So I looked unabashedly back at him. He had a small scar over his left eye, a longer one craving in a diagonal from his eyebrow along his forehead. His hair was closely cropped and smokey gray, a few strands of it falling across his face. His chest was broad, arms thick with muscles. That build was the only thing similar between the two men across from me. A body that told of brutal training and relentless battles. 
Once my eyes drank their fill of Tomas, I went back to my food. I knew he was still looking at me and a part of me wanted to know what he was searching so intensely for. But I stayed silent, letting the dinner wind down around me. Harumi and Kuai Liang kept their heads together, voices even as they spoke about housing and provisions. Once almost every plate was empty, my sister stood. “Everyone please, allow my sister to guide you to your rooms.” I glared at her. She never told me I was expected to do this. “We can talk later,” she whispered. She loved putting me on the spot like this, even when we were kids. If we were ever caught misbehaving, she would come up with a lie that only benefited her, leaving me to flounder under our Mother’s wrath. 
I took a deep breath before standing, straightening my robes as I did. “If you would follow me,” I said. I could hear the annoyance even in my own ears and so could Harumi. But the tone fell on deaf Lin Kuei ears as they all rose to their feet, thanking Harumi for her kindness and the food. I headed out the eastern door and along a quiet path. For the first time, I felt empty without my sword in my own home. I itched to have its comforting weight against my leg. Kuai Liang appeared next to me. “It’s good seeing you again. I know this isn’t the most ideal circumstance for us to meet again.” 
“No,” I say with a chuckle, “can’t say it is.” As much frustration I felt toward Harumi for allowing them here, I didn’t hate them. The Lin Kuei are fractured on the deepest level. Kuai Liang and Tomas must be heartbroken over the estrangement from their brother. I want them to have shelter and food, but I don’t want my family and home to be on the line for that to happen. “But it is good to see you again.” I reach the door to their temporary home. It was the old main house but was quickly outgrown as our clan formed some four hundred years ago. While it was effectively abandoned, it was still maintained for large groups of guests. “I apologize that it’s not very spacious, your men will have to share their rooms.” 
“Don’t worry,” Tomas said as he hovered behind his slightly shorter brother. “We are just grateful for any space.” I gave a small bow. 
“Then please make yourselves at home.” 
I never was able to talk to Harumi again until a fortnight later. She was intentionally avoiding me. I could never seem to pin her down. She was always with the Lin Kuei men, helping them settle into their new lodgings. She never invited me to join her in these conversations. I was always kept on the outside. I would see her at breakfast and dinner but then she would disappear. Even then we were never alone, joined by either Kuai Liang or some other clan elder, denying me the chance to speak freely. Frustration at being ignored and abandoned was starting to eat away at me. I spent hours in the courtyard, swinging my katana over and over and over again, until my arms screamed at me to stop. Then I would continue, relishing in this little bit of control. 
Sometimes I would feel the hairs along my neck rising. Everytime, I would turn my head and find Tomas walking away. The first few times, I was able to ease my paranoia, but soon it won. What could he possibly be looking at? Why does he always seem to be just in the corner of my vision? Maybe he was a spy sent by Bi-Han? All of these thoughts were swirling in my brain, sitting heavy in my stomach. 
It came to a head one late night. Harumi and I were finally alone together. She was looking over paperwork, body hunched to read the writing. I was sitting beside her with our ledger, checking our numbers. Paperwork was the least desirable portion of being a Grandmaster and the second in command. Most handed it off to others, too important for such remedial work. But our Father taught us that a Grandmaster was never better than even the lowest worker. “What’s bothering you so much sister? You’ve been training nonstop.” I pursed my lips, pen stopping mid-scratch. 
“There’s fifteen of them.” 
“I know,” she said simply.
“We are risking everything for fifteen men.” Harumi sighed, laying her own pen down, turning to look at me. Her expression was what one would wear to explain something very complicated to a too young child. My lip curled at the look. 
“We are stronger in numbers.” I snapped the ledger shut. 
“Fifteen stronger! What will that do when Bi-Han shows up to our home?” 
“You are letting fear cloud your perception.” I stood, papers fluttering to the floor in my wake. 
“And you are letting childhood love ,” I sneered the word, “cloud yours!” An indignant blush crawled up her cheeks. I may have been a child when I last saw Kuai Liang, but I wasn’t blind. The two of them had been attached at the hip anytime they were visiting. I had even caught them kissing once as I snuck to the kitchen for a sweet cake. 
“You’re being completely immature! This is exactly why I haven’t included you in any conversation with Kuai Liang. You are so ready to throw away the gift.” Frustration was starting to bubble into anger. 
“And why do we need them Harumi? When Father died our enemies descended on us. We were almost wiped out, and where were they!?” My voice was rapidly growing in volume, arms splayed out in question. The year after Father died was a nightmare. We were attacked from all sides, clans trying to absorb us while Harumi was desperate to become comfortable in her position as Grandmaster. While we were able to keep ourselves alive, too many men were lost to attacks. Then Mother died and we almost completely fell apart. Harumi and I still bear the horrible scars from our last grand battle. Harumi was able to walk away, the northern clan’s leader’s head clutched in her hand, but tensions had been weighing on us since. 
“We didn’t need their help!” she shot back, standing herself. “I handled it myself! I showed them that I wasn’t some weak woman to be taken advantage of!” 
“But we are being taken advantage of!” I shouted back, not caring who heard. “The Lin Kuei didn’t help us in our time of need, but we are supposed to help them in theirs?! Bi-Han will find them eventually and we will be slaughtered alongside them! They are a ticking bomb, Harumi! Why are you so willing to throw us in the line of fire for them? You’re delusional if you think they won’t run the second they find trouble!” 
“YOU ARE NOT GRANDMASTER SISTER!” She was screaming now, her voice bitter. “YOUR OPINION DOESN'T MATTER!” I recoiled back like she had slapped me. My ears rang. Even she blinked, clearly startled by her outburst, looking away from me. “I’m sorry,” she whispered eventually. Tears or anger and betrayal blurred my vision. 
“No you’re not,” I spit. I turned, not even sparing her another glance, and crossed the room. When I opened the door, I came nose to nose with Kuai Liang and Tomas. Kauai Liang’s hand was raised, like he was about to knock. Tears were searing down my cheeks and I didn’t care if they saw. I hated the look on their faces, pity and shock. “Get out of my way,” I snapped. The two men immediately parted and I shoved between them, perhaps too harshly, before walking away. I could hear my sister’s lowered voice, probably writing me off as some lunatic. 
My feet were carrying me somewhere, but my brain was spiraling too much to even track my surroundings. Harumi always knew exactly what to say to hurt me. She could be soft, kind and patient, but she could also rip my heart apart with just her words. It’s a special ability only siblings seem to share. My appointment as her second in command was set in stone once both our parents died. Harumi and I, in our combined grief, launched vicious attacks back at our enemies. I’ve done things for her that come back to me in terrible nightmares. We collaborated and moved together as a perfectly oiled machine. But, Harumi was always viewed as the better sibling. I tried to outshine her but could never top her accomplishments. That tiny shard of insecurity was never fully dislodged. She knew it. 
A cool breeze hit my tear stained cheeks. Only then did I realize I had found myself outside. As if pulled by an invisible thread, I drifted to the courtyard. Just picking up my katana made my body scream in protest. I ignored it. I swung the weapon in big arching swipes, allowing my weary arms to wake and stretch. Then I turned to face a wooden target. Like the snap of a string, rage rushed up my veins. With three brutal slashes, the target crumbled, wood clattering against the stone floor. My sword swung out, lobbing the head off the target to the right. I set to hacking it apart. My form was quickly crumbling, just becoming rage filled chops. I would have to work for hours to correct the damage to my blade but I didn’t care. Tears splattered to the ground under my feet. I slid my arms through my robes as sweat dripped down my face, leaving my chest only covered in my bra. The night was harsh on my sweaty skin but I refused to stop until all of the targets were destroyed. 
It was over too quickly. The wood bodies were splintered, jagged, and shattered in places from my brute force. My lungs burned as my chest heaved. A blister along my palm had burst in my fury. I glanced down at it, blood oozing from the ragged skin. Your opinion doesn’t matter. I squeezed my bleeding hand, nails biting into the tender skin. More targets.  
I was being watched.
I spun, pinning Tomas to the spot with my glare. He was under the overhang, hidden away from the bright moon. “Did you enjoy the show?” I wanted to scream at him, but my voice came out scratchy and broken. He approached slowly, like I was some wild animal about to snap at him. My hand squeezed my weapon and his steps stalled. 
“I’m sorry for watching,” he whispered, “I was just worried about you.” My blade swung up when he was in range, the tip pressing against his broad chest, just over his heart. He immediately stopped in his tracks and raised his hands in a sign of surrender. 
“I don’t need your pity.” I snapped. I pressed the blade just a bit into his chest. He winced but otherwise showed no reaction.
“I’m not offering pity.” Tomas carefully pushed my katana away from himself and I let the arm fall to my side without protest. Please,” he said, voice earnest. “Feel free to take your anger at the Lin Kuei out on me. Let me help in any way I can.” I paused, digesting his words. My blade makes a satisfying click as I snap it back into its scabbard. I undo the belt, placing it carefully on the ground. 
“I just want to fight. No magic. Don’t be easy on me.” Tomas just gives a simple nod. He must have expected this response. I stare at him for a moment, taking in that handsome face, before I launch at him. My arms ache too much to use so I go for a kick to his thigh. It’s a weak attempt and he catches my leg easily. With a rough yank, I lose my balance and fall to the ground, breath knocked from my lungs. Tomas doesn’t laugh or make fun of my pathetic fight. He just watches me, waiting to see what I do next. 
My free foot connects with his knee. He groans as his leg buckles. I take the opportunity to wiggle my leg from his grasp. I snap to my feet, fist swinging out. I had no target but it glanced off his jaw anyway. My knee rams into his stomach. He lets out a little gasp of air. I kick my leg under him and he crumples. 
I climb on top of him, catching his wrists, pinning them above his head. I was out of breath despite the short and uneventful fight. But my body already felt exhausted. Tomas is gazing at me again. It’s that same searching way I always catch him doing. His skin was nearly glowing in the moonlight as I took in his face. “Why do you look at me like that?” I demanded. 
“Because you’re beautiful.” The words caught me off guard. My heart was too raw to process them. 
“Don’t say that,” I hissed, “don’t you dare feel sorry for me.” I wanted to hold onto my fury, let it burn me from the inside out, but it was faltering under his unexpectedly kind eyes. 
“I don’t,” his voice is low, reassuring. My nails bit into his wrists as I squeezed them. He let out a whine of pain. “I promised to help. Whatever you want from me, you can take it.” My heart stumbled on its next beat. Now that the thick haze of anger had dissipated, I could smell him, smokey and warm. Against my better judgment, I leaned closer so our noses were nearly pressed together. Now I could hear the short bursts of his breath. 
“Anything?” I could see his throat bob as he swallowed. “What if I’m not nice?” His eyes widened at the dark edge in my voice. The tip of his tongue flashed out, wetting his dry lips. I watched it intently. 
“I will take whatever you give me.” 
“If it’s ever too much,” I breathed, my lips brushing against his, “tell me. Don’t feel obligated to continue.” He gave a tiny nod. 
My lips crashed against his. He groaned at my intensity and I drank the sound down greedily. I let my hands wander his arms, feeling every muscle and vein. One hand wove into his soft hair while the other laid softly on his throat. I didn’t squeeze, just let the fingers rest. I could feel his pulse racing under them. With his arms freed, he wrapped them around my back, pulling me tight against him. 
It had been so long since I’d kissed anyone. I wasn’t sure I even knew how to do it anymore. Being so ‘important’ seemed to scare most men away. Even if all I wanted was one fun night, they felt some responsibility to act like a potential husband. So I reveled in the feeling of Tomas under me, his lips trying to keep up with mine, his tiny pants as I overpowered him. I snagged his bottom lip with my teeth and I bit down until I tasted copper. He moaned, blunt nails digging into my bare back. His hips bucked under me and I ground against them. I licked his lip apologetically before wiggling it into his mouth. It was intoxicating how much control he was allowing me. I alternated between squeezing the sides of his neck and yanking his hair. All he could do was whimper into me. The sound alone was driving me crazy, hips rolling over his quickly hardening cock. Heat was slowly being dropped into my veins and I was growing overwhelmed with all the sensations. 
I finally broke away, gulping down harsh lungfuls of air, sitting up straight. Tomas was bright pink. His lips were bruised and puffy, covered in our combined spit. The sight brought a drunken smile to my face. He returned it with a dazed look in his eyes. “Too much?” He shook his head.
A chill breeze whistled through the courtyard and I shivered. Instantly, his calloused hands were rubbing my arms, trying to combat the cold. In the lusty haze I was under, I didn’t truly understand how exposed we were. It may have been the dead of night, but servants moved at all hours. “Let’s go to my room.” When I stood up and my thighs pressed together, I could feel how soaked my panties were. Tomas rose to his feet gingerly. With one glance, I saw why. His cock was hard , jutting out from between his legs, impossible to hide in his loose fabric pants. It looked…big. But instead of being intimidated like I should have been, I felt more excited. I slid my arms back through the top of my robes to cover myself the best I could. I grabbed Tomas’s hand, using it to guide him inside to my quarters. He followed behind me without protest or even a word, just tangled his fingers with mine. 
Thankfully, I had my own section of the main house so I wouldn’t have to worry about seeing her right now. I’m not sure Tomas could handle me if I did. Once in my room, I flicked on my bedside table lamp before I turned on the ninja. “Strip.” He did instantly, undoing buckles, ties, and knots in mere seconds. The first thing I noticed was his chest. Scars littered it, some old and white, where others were new, still raw and pink. There was light dusting of gray hair across the skin as well. The hair became darker and more pronounced as it collected in a line under his belly button, trailing my eyes down… no. I’ll look later . I moved my gaze back to his abdomen, taking in the planes of muscles across them. His arms, so thick and strong, hung loosely at his side. Like a predator, I circled him to look at his back. This skin was also just as covered in scars. I itched to touch them, to ask their stories, but I refrained. I could explore them once we’re done. His fists clenched. 
I came back to face him, finally allowing myself to look down. His cock was completely flushed. It was thick and a small bolt of worry struck down my spine. It looked like he could split me in half if I wasn't careful. A small bead of white oozed from the tip, splattering onto the floor. I watched its descent and my grin only grew when I saw the collection of drops on the floor. “ Aw ,” I teased, reaching out to trail my hand across his broad chest. He shivered under my touch. “Just some kissing got you so hard?” I knew I didn’t have much of a leg to stand on. I was practically dripping. His heavy gaze wasn’t helping my state either. I could almost feel him undressing me with his eyes, their hunger clear. “Have you been thinking about me like this? Thinking about my lips around you?” My fingers danced down his chest, landing at the base of his cock. I explored him with feather light touches, never doing anything to give him any pleasure. His eyebrows knit together, mouth opening on pitiful pants. “Thinking about having me under you, moaning your name, begging you to keep fucking me? How wet I would feel around this big dick?” An adorable blush was spreading across his neck and face. I pulled my hand away and he whined but I only gave him my prettiest smile. My hand instead went to his wrist, pulling him to my bed. I used both my hands on his shoulders to force him to sit. I wedged myself between his legs, savoring him gazing up at me. The tip of his cock was pressed against his stomach, smearing precum on the skin. 
“Answer my question Tomas,” his breath hitched at the sound of his name. “How often do you think about fucking me?” 
“Every night, every day, all the time.” His voice is shaky, knuckles turning white in his fists. I knew he was waiting for permission to touch me but I wouldn’t give it. Not yet at least. “I wake up so hard it aches.” I hummed in sympathy, hands going to the sash holding my robes shut. I take my time undoing it, knowing I have Tomas’s undivided attention. 
“Do you dream about me? What do you see?” I prompt, pausing my undressing. 
“Yes, I can only seem to dream about you.” He chews his lip, looking too ashamed to continue. I finally undo the knot at my side and allow my robe to fall from my shoulders, the fabric pooling at my ankles. His eyes snap to my body. I can feel the trail of his gaze as if he was touching me. With deliberate movements, I reach behind me, snapping my bra open, the fabric joining my robe on the floor. “ Ah ,” he whispers, abandoning his fists all together, gripping his thighs instead, nails digging into the tender skin. 
“You aren’t good at answering my questions Tomas. Don’t get distracted.” My hand grips his chin, forcing his eyes back to mine. “What do you dream about? If you tell me, I’ll let you touch all the places you want.” His face lit up at the deal but he was clearly fighting embarrassment. “Tomas,” I purr, palm moving to his neck again. His eyes grew heavy, almost closing. “Be a good boy,” he whimpers unabashedly at the nickname and at the squeeze I give his throat. 
“Okay,” he stutters. “They always change. Sometimes I’m in control, other times you have me pinned down. I,” he licks his dry lips again, “I think I like the ones where you are in control more.” 
“Good,” I hum, letting his neck go. “What do I do in those dreams?” 
“You edge me, make me beg to come,” his voice is a whisper. “I do, I beg and beg until I’m crying. Sometimes I wake up before you let me. Those are the worst days. I feel frustrated and too turned on to function even when I get off multiple times. One day I couldn’t even leave my room in fear I would see you and beg you to let me fuck you. I knew it would scare you.” I remembered that day. It was odd to not be watched while training and his absence was obvious at breakfast and dinner. Kuai Liang said he wasn’t feeling well. I was curious what Tomas actually told his brother. My thumbs catch the waistband of my panties. With eyes like a hawk, his eyes snapped to the movement. I tsk like a disappointed parent. “I’m sorry,” he breathes.
“What do you do in the dreams where you're the dominant one? Are you as mean as I am?” He shook his head. I could tell he was desperate to look, to touch, to taste. Selfishly, I loved forcing him to wait, loved watching him squirm under my control. 
“No, you usually feel too,” he cleared his throat, “too good for me to stop. I always drown in how good you taste.” My hands ease my panties down but Tomas keeps his eyes on me. They dropped with an obscene splat on the hardwood. 
“You have a very vivid imagination,” I tease, cupping his cheek with my left hand. “Do I live up to it?” His hands hesitantly raise, his eyes pleading. “I won’t bite, too hard at least.” Then his hands were everywhere. My hips, my thighs, even the back of my knees weren’t immune to his touches or his gaze. He traveled up my torso, tracing my own scars with delicate caresses, his lips now joining his hands. I climbed onto his lap to allow him better access to my chest. I could feel his hard member against my hip. His lips lingered under my breasts before taking one hard nipple into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue, his free hand teasing the other bud. I moaned at the contact, hips jerking. He took my noise as encouragement and increased the speed of his tongue. I tugged the finger teasing my nipple away, placing it in my mouth, swirling my tongue around it. He lets out a muffled gasp, eyes flashing to mine. I smiled, “you look so handsome like this,” I purred around his finger. I stuck my tongue out, making a big show of licking it, before letting his hand go. He squeezed his eyes shut, wet finger going back to my nipple. “ Aw, ” I mumble, tugging lightly on his hair, “why are you hiding from me?” 
“Don’t want to come too soon ,” he murmurs. I lift his head so I can press soft kisses to his flushed cheeks. 
“How quick can you get hard again?” I whispered. 
“For you,” Tomas whined, “probably minutes.” I hummed in approval, teeth dragging along his neck, leaving small nips along the sensitive skin. It only took one light push for him to fall back against the bed. He propped himself on his elbows, big chest heaving. I turned my attention to his long neglected dick. I could see a long ridge along its underside, a thick vein on the left side. My fingers dipped between my legs and easily coated my fingers in my own slick. I traced the vein with my index finger, before closing my hand around it, giving a few experimental squeezes. His lip trembles at the feeling. 
“You’ve been so good,” I say, arm beginning to pump over him, “but I’m not done with you.” He nodded his head, blue eyes pinned to my hand. “I would feel bad leaving you so hard.” A trail of spit dribbles from my mouth and my hand spreads it as it gains speed. He lets out a shaky breath, knuckles going white again. Under me, I can feel how tense his thighs are. The sound of my name in his fragile voice makes my skin prickle. 
“Hands feel so ah good,” Tomas pants. With another blob of spit, I quicken my pace. He flops back onto the bed, the sheets clutched in his fists. His tense control seems to crumble a bit as his hips begin to thrust up into my hand. “ I’m not going to last ,” he mumbles, a hint of an accent creeping into his words. He’s too lost in the squeeze of my hand that he doesn’t notice me climbing off his thighs to kneel in front of him. But he does notice when my tongue licks a long stripe up the underside of him. He makes a strangled noise, far too loud for the late hour. But I didn’t chide him and just eased his length into my mouth. He tastes just a little bitter but there’s something strangely addicting about it. His cock is heavy on my tongue and the corners of my lips stretch to accommodate his girth. My mouth and hand work in tandem, not leaving an inch of him uncovered. He begins to mumble my name, voice raw and reverent, little gasps in between each of his words. My clit throbs at the sound of him. I reach between my legs and begin to circle the neglected bud. I’m not particularly nice to it, chasing the high of an orgasm at any cost. Fingers snake into my hair but he doesn’t force my head down. My eyes ease open to look at him, only to find him staring right back. 
That’s when the dam breaks. His back arches, the hand in my hair becoming a vice to hold my head still as his hips jerk into my mouth, a mess of thank yous and my name tumbling from him. Hot ropes of cum shoot into my throat and I gag at the sheer amount of it. He seems to come for an eternity, cock twitching constantly as more and more liquid spills into me. I swallow down as much as I can but some still leaks onto him. Finally, his body relaxes and my hair is released. I ease off him, panting. 
A quiet moment passes between us as I rest my head on Tomas’s thigh. I could feel the exhaustion from my slaughter of the wooden targets starting to creep up on me. Once my own breathing is under control, I trail sticky kisses up his torso, lingering on his stomach and his pecs, before I settle my hips on his chest, knees on either side of his head. His eyes still look dazed and he has a dumb smirk on his face. “Good?” I muse, combing his sweaty hair out of his eyes. “As good as your dreams?” 
“So much better,” he replies. 
“More?” My voice sounds a little unsure. But Tomas just grins like I offered him a divine gift. 
“I said you can take whatever you want. If you need more, I’ll give you anything.” My own blush crawls up my cheeks. His eyes soften as he tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. “I meant what I said before, you are so beautiful.” 
“It’s just the endorphins.” Tomas opens his mouth to argue but I pinch his chin between my fingers, “tongue out.” He does as I command without complaint. I wiggle my hips up so my pussy is right over his mouth. I can feel his tongue pressed against the tender skin but he doesn’t move it. I brace one hand behind me and give a tentative roll of my hips. Goosebumps ripple over my skin. He moans into me and the vibrations make my toes curl. “Do I taste as good as you imagined?” He nods, tongue dragging through my folds as he does, nose bumping my aching clit. I roll my hips a few more times but can’t seem to reach the high I’m close to. “ Mm, I did say you could touch whatever you wanted, so be good and impress me.” His arms lock around my thighs, hands splayed on my hips, urging me to press harder down on his face. I do, one hand in his hair and the other braced on the bed. 
Then he starts. His tongue is desperate, hitting every sensitive area I have. It lashes as my clit, swirling in tight circles, then it moves into me, curling in search of my g-spot. “Oh,” I gasp. The intensity nearly takes my breath away. As his tongue delves into me again, his nose digs into my clit. It’s my turn to whimper as my hips grind against him. He gives an approving moan. My thighs squeeze tight around his head at the feeling. I was already close after my own hasty masturbation. “Stay just like that,” I pant. His tongue becomes rigid in me. “Fuck, good boy.” He hums at the praise. I bare down on him, circling my hips however feels best. I eventually find a position that makes my eyes roll back and I start to fuck myself on his tongue. My sliver of shame at using him like a sex toy disappears when his own moans get louder than mine. He just feels too good to not use. I can’t imagine he can breathe well, if at all, but I can feel him pulling me down even harder. My juices and his spit coats my thighs. The lewd sounds of my wetness filled my ears. A heavy heat is pooling deep in my stomach. “Tomas,” I whimper. My nails bite into his scalp, “so close. Such a, oh fuck,” my words are cut off as that heat finally rushes through me. 
It’s a swift and intense orgasm that leaves me trembling over him. His tongue slips from inside me and starts to happily lap up the mess I’ve made. It prolongs the sensations and I mewl at the overstimulation. I try to lift my hips but he refuses to let go, even shaking his head in denial. “ Ah! You’re going to kill me,” I giggle. I felt light, giddy at the intense relief. It had been too long since I last came, let alone had someone to do it for me. I ease open my eyes to look at the man between my legs and see his eyes already open, pupils blown wide. To my horror, his skin has a slight purple hue to it. With a rough yank, I push his head away while lifting my hips. He sucks in harsh gasps of air.
“Sit back down,” Tomas pleads, “tastes so good .” I laugh, collapsing to my side, head hitting my pillows. My leg lingers on his shuddering chest and he runs a shaky hand over my ankle. Even from my position and poor lighting, I can see the glisten all over his face. Another comfortable silence passes. My eyes start to feel heavy, that exhaustion creeping up on me again. “More?” I shift my eyes to between his legs. He was not lying about only needing a few minutes. 
“More.” He lifts my leg closer to his soaked face, trailing feather light kisses along my ankle and calves. He adjusts himself to a crouch, laying more kisses on my skin. I giggle and instinctively jerk my leg when he finds a ticklish spot at the back of my knee. Then the slow progress goes up my legs, hips, ribs, between my breasts, then finally my neck. “Great, now I’m all sticky,” I tease. He braces himself on either side of my head. 
“You sound like an angel when you laugh.” His voice is tender as his lips ghost against my ear. My hands set to exploring his chest, lingering on the scars. I turn my head to capture his lips. The kiss is soft, all the desperate hunger from the courtyard gone. I savor the taste of me on his lips. My arms drape over his shoulders as I draw him closer. I can feel the heavy weight of his hard cock on my stomach. I pull away, pressing my damp forehead against his. 
“Be careful with me,” I breathe. His eyebrows knit together in sudden worry. 
“Are you…?” His voice trails off in question. 
“No, no,” I assure, giving him a small peck for good measure. “It’s just been a while and you’re,” I search for a better word but find none, “thick.” A smug smile parts his lips. It only makes his features more attractive. I find myself grinning back. 
“Of course I will,” he promises. Much to my dismay, he leans away, sitting back on his ankles. He drinks in the sight of me before him. “ Fuck,” his voice is almost quiet enough for me to miss. I feel like I’m on the operating table, that he’s a doctor examining for anything remotely interesting. His calloused palms push my thighs apart to expose more to his hungry eyes. “So wet,” he hums, his thumbs spreading my folds open. 
“Tomas.” His attention immediately snaps to my face. “Start fingering me so you can fuck me. I’m not a very patient person. You can have your fill of looking at me later.” He cards his fingers through my slick, wedging two fingers into me, stopping at his second knuckle. I bite my lip on a moan, back arching. My hips push against his hand, fingers sinking deep into me. They curl and begin to pump inside me. I whine at how wet I sound and my eyes drift close. His fingers are dexterous, rubbing my sensitive walls perfectly. “More,” I choke, hips desperately pushing against his hand. 
“Say please.” My eyes snap open to find him with another self-satisfied grin. I can’t stop my own smile and hold out my hands, motioning for him to come closer. He does, free hand braced next to my head. I slather his neck in kisses, my tongue darting out, sucking a harsh hickey in the crux of his neck. He gasps at the sudden intensity. 
“ Please,” I pitifully moan into his ear. He instantly slips a third finger in me. My laughter mixes with my sigh of pleasure. He’s so easy to toy with. “Only needed one please?” 
“Quiet,” he grumbles. As if in retaliation, his fingers ease out of me. I pout and he flicks my bottom lip. I snag the digit with my teeth and bite down playfully. Then I feel the head of his dick press against my empty hole, his slick fingers coating his length the best he could. “Do you need more time?” I shake my head. The hand next to my head reached down to grasp mine, slotting our fingers together. “Deep breath,” the word is dragged out into a shuddering breath as he sinks into me, hips flush against mine. “ Oh my god.” 
“F-fuck,” I whimper, eyes squeezed shut. He’s completely overwhelming, pushing against any sensitive area I could possibly have. I can even feel the ridge along the underside of him pressing into my walls. A moment passes while we adjust to each other, bodies still. “ More. Please Tomas, more.” This time my voice lacks its previous theatrical pleading. His lips trap mine in a desperate kiss while his hips start at a torturously slow pace. I let his tongue plunder my mouth, not even trying to take control again. I grip his hair before my nails rake down his neck to his broad shoulder. He hisses at the sting. “ Faster,” I gasp through the clash of our lips. He does without complaint. He cradles my hips with both arms as he pounds into me. The new angle makes me finally break our kiss and I gasp out his name. 
“So wet,” Tomas mumbles, words slurring, “so warm. Fuck .” He nuzzles his face in my neck to leave behind his own love bites. He leaves a particularly harsh one along my collarbone that makes my back arch into his sweaty chest. He litters my chest in kisses as he moves to the other side of my neck. There he scatters more marks, creeping all the way up my neck. I slither my hand between my legs, trying to ease the burn of my clit. He buries himself deep into me and then stops. 
“ No, no, no,” I babble, grinding my hips against him. He once again leans back. With a small slap to my hand, he replaces it with his own. He lifts one of my legs up, laying it against his chest, before easing forward, bending me nearly in half. Then he starts fucking me. It’s harsh and rough, his thumb punishing the bundle of nerves under it. “ Tomas!” My voice is loud and brittle. My toes curl and my stomach tightens. Heat is building quickly. I’m sure if anyone passed by they would be able to clearly hear the wet slaps of our hips. 
“You’re squeezing me so much,” he groans as a bead of sweat rolls down his forehead. I’m moaning unabashedly now, being far too loud. But he’s just so big . Now I can feel him twitching constantly inside me. It’s almost too much. The heavy weight of him. The way he can’t miss the spongy spot inside me. His thumb making harsh, wet circles over my clit. Even the slight smell of smoke and sweat on him is driving me higher. My eyes squeeze together, trying to focus on one sensation at a time. 
I fail. I alternate between crying out his name and expletives before the heated coil inside me shatters. “ Tomas! I-fuck-I,” I can’t even get the words out before I’m coming. My mouth falls open on a silent scream, hips recklessly bouncing against his. He keeps his rapid pace so it prolongs the orgasm to near discomfort. 
“Look at me,” Tomas’s voice is shaking. Through my shuddering, I manage to open them and take him in. He’s pink again, hair slicked back with sweat. A tear oozes down my cheek as overstimulation begins to set in. “ Just a little more ,” he assures and I drunkenly nod back. His hips are still harsh but they are losing this pace. He removes his thumb from my clit which provides much needed respite. The way his ragged voice curls around my name nearly makes me come again. “ Just a little-“ After one final push, he buries himself deep into me with a guttural groan, his cum filling me to the brim. 
We both still, chests heaving, breaths choppy. We don’t speak for several minutes, letting the afterglow fade. His fingers on my face is what draws my eyes back open. I hadn’t even realized they had closed. “Do you have a rag in here?” I reach to my bedside table and produce a box of tissues. 
“These right now,” I mutter. “We can get the towel in a moment. You cum too much.” My throat itches. Not a good sign for my volume levels. 
Tomas gives a weak smile. “Feel too good.” He plucks three from the box before slips from me. I can feel a wave of liquid dribble down my thighs. He sets to diligently cleaning me, being careful to avoid my most tender areas. A sizable pile of discarded tissue appears on the bed. “Towel?” I point at the door to my left. He goes to it and finds my attached bathroom. I can’t keep my eyes open anymore. My body felt like jelly. A lukewarm towel rubs away most of the sticky mess. “Curl your knees in, I’m going to sit you up.” I do as I’m told, not even thinking about questioning it. His strong arms work under mine, hoisting me up straight. I can feel the towel under my hips. “Just sit here so most of it can drain out. I’m going to get you some water, okay?” I give a weak nod. He presses a loving kiss to my temple. 
I don’t remember him leaving, only him returning. “Here,” I open my blurry eyes and take the offered cup. The water is crisp and I can feel it working through my chest. Tomas stands awkwardly by the bed. He had only put on his pants. I could see my one lone hickey along with a few trails of my nails. 
“You’ll have to let me give you more marks,” I point out, “we’re uneven.” He hums in agreement. Keeping one hand on my shoulder so he didn’t send me backwards, he removed the towel from under me. “Just toss it in the bathroom, clean later.” He does as instructed. I settled back in my pillows, crawling under my waiting sheets. I see him starting to gather up his clothes. “Aren’t you going to stay?” He genuinely looks surprised but gladly strips back down to his underwear, crawling next to me. I barely even laid my head down on his chest before I was asleep. 
I woke up very late the next day. Afternoon sun pierces through the blinds, nearly blinding when I open my eyes. Tomas was still asleep next to me, his breathing deep and even. He looks so relaxed, so soft in sleep. He's far too handsome for his own good. We were tangled together and in the sheets. I’m able to wiggle free and sneak on wobbly legs to the bathroom. As I pass my bedroom door, I notice someone had placed a tray on my desk. It was laden with food. My stomach gave an excited growl. I noticed a note next to a bright red tea cup in the corner of the tray. Curious, I lift it and read:
Sister, the red cup is yours. The last thing we need is a baby to take care of.
Tumblr media
Reblogs are always appreciated <3
616 notes · View notes
sophiethewitch1 · 7 months
Text
A Dramatic Irony
A/n: Trying to combat writer's block so I decided to do this little drabble. Spoilers for the WHB prologue, and also includes my theory that MC will turn out to be God in some form or capacity. Because why the hell else would the angels turn over to our side?
GAME IS 18+ THIS DRABBLE ISN'T, BUT EVEN THE PROLOGUE HAS ADULT CONTENT! MINORS PLEASE BE SENSIBLE!!!
Tumblr media
“So, it was you? This whole time?” His lips graze against your throat. He’s warm, of course he is. All that holy light spilling out? He’s so warm it’s almost uncomfortable.
Everything about this is uncomfortable, really. But of course, like always, you’re at the centre of it. Of every situation, from the depths of hell to the cloudy tops of heaven.
“I’m not Him,” you grit out, your body shivering. You don’t dare move. Not with Gabriel, the man who had sworn to kill you, who had chased you over hell with armies of feathered fiends, with his teeth at your jugular.
It doesn’t matter the way he shakes just the same as you. It doesn’t matter that his fingers skim delicately - reverently - across your stomach. It doesn’t matter that those eyes that before looked at you with absolutely nothing inside, now seemed to overflow. With love, obsession.
You know, before all this, you’d been an atheist. Before an unholy angel had crawled out of your computer and a righteous demon had saved you and your best friend’s life, you had thought God couldn’t exist. That the world couldn’t be so cruel if someone like Him truly did exist. That your childhood wouldn’t be mired in tragedy, that you wouldn’t struggle to get out of bed every day. That you wouldn’t have to blink away flashes of the scent of copper and soap.
And of course, then you’d made a deal with the devil. You’d gone to hell. You’d broken countless contracts, and warred against heaven. You’d had to fight for every second of your life, and you’d done it bitterly, angrily.
Angry at this God that had disappeared, and angry at His stupid mistake of making every angel madly in love with him. Angry at how He never thought of the consequences of his actions, of how He never imagined a world He wouldn’t exist in. How just by your birth, you’d been destined to suffer. How your parents would have died no matter what, how you would always have had to walk this thorny path.
How He never seemed to consider what could happen when you created one of the strongest beings in the universe and forgot to give them a fucking moral compass.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, ignoring your words. His too-warm body crowding in too close to yours, as your fists curl against his chest, desperately trying to push him away. It’s no use because no matter what’s in your blood, you aren’t strong enough - what is Solomon’s, and what is His.
Because, apparently, those stupid mistakes you’d cursed God for, were yours.
“I’m not Him,” you repeat, hands moving to claw at his throat. He doesn’t react beyond a small sigh of pleasure, curling into your touch like a cat in the sun. “I’m not Him. I don’t have His memories. I’m not Him.”
“I told you, didn’t I? I didn’t have any negative feelings towards you. I’m sorry, I’ll fix it. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Please, just let me stay by your side?”
It’s such a strange dichotomy. The angel who sees this as a beautiful, miraculous reunion. And you, who sees this a tragedy. One you could never escape. The angel from before, swinging his scythe at your throat, and the one who now presses plush lips against that same skin. It’s too ironic, isn’t it? It just can’t be true. It just doesn’t make any sense.
“I don’t want you by my side,” you sob, but he just shushes you, pressing kisses against your head and across your face. He licks up your tears, groaning at the taste.
It’s too cruel. You have to wonder if the old you, the one you can’t remember, ran from this.
His hands tighten around your waist. It doesn’t really matter what happened before, because you know you won’t be able to run this time.
775 notes · View notes
Coriolanus Snow's character is so fascinating to me.
At the movie's beginning, he is just this sweet boy, just trying to protect his family, keep them alive, and protect his tribute and keep her alive. And you adore him, and you're rooting for him; by the time you get to the end of the movie, he's slowly twisted everything around, until suddenly, he's not the person you thought he was, and even though you saw glimpses of that person, he's gone now, and you don't like what's left.
The thing I love is that you can see the inner fight that was there all along, the darker side is represented a lot by how Coriolanus is similar to his father and connects back to his past. He gives up pieces of that person throughout the games where Lucy Grey is his tribute, sacrificing them in the form of a handkerchief (a piece of his dad) that has the potential to implicate him in a crime that would cost him his life, but also the potential to grant Lucy Grey hers. You can see it in the way he gives her his dead mother's compact full of rat poison. In the way he cheats to save her, even with the knowledge that he won't gain anything from it. You can see it in the way that he lets her in on secrets he's guarded so fiercely from his capital friends. Living in a world where he has almost no control.
He also has close zero regard for the people in the arena with whom he has no connection. He convinces a classmate to help kill her tribute to save his, and he tells Tigress he felt powerful killing a little boy (a feeling she connected back to his dad). Things that grow smaller in comparison to his love for Lucy Grey, the affection he shows for Sejanus, the way he cares for his family, and the relationship he has with Tigress.
It's in the second part of the movie that things start to go awry. he gets his father's handkerchief and his mother's compact back. along with those pieces of himself. His hair is buzzed, and he's shipped away from his family, who were the original motivation for everything, most importantly the motivation behind befriending Lucy Grey. He has nothing. Seajanus ends up joining him and they go together to District 12, where he has even less control than he did before.
Coriolanus stands by while an innocent man hangs. He holds Sejanus back from stopping it to keep him safe. He gets in a fight with Lucy Grey's cheating ex. His best friend gets him out. He gives Lucy Grey the last piece of his parents he has with him. He gives the girl he loves all of his trust. He betrays Sejanus to the capital. He tries to protect his best friend. He kills a woman, putting them all in danger. He killed her to keep them safe. It's his fault Sejanus hangs for treason. His best friend cries for him right before he dies. He runs away with Lucy Grey to keep himself safe. He runs away with his lover so they can be together. He lies about Sejanus's death, so Lucy Grey leaves him. He lies about his best friend's death, to keep his love with him.
He abandons his friend and is abandoned by his lover because of it. He breaks trust, and so his trust is broken.
He gets all the pieces of himself back with his mother's shawl Lucy Grey leaves for him to find.
He had so many opportunities to be good, and you could see that he was fighting against the worst part of himself. And yet, you can also see him fighting less and less as time goes on, eventually, once he gets all of the pieces back he stops fighting. He goes back to the capitol, prepared to do whatever it takes to gain control. He's not a victim of circumstances or his childhood, Tigress proves that. But he is a victim of the choices he had to make.
Coriolanus Snow is such a complex character, who is shaped by his own choices, and the people in his life, who he can never really escape, the echoes of which will follow him throughout his whole life.
791 notes · View notes
taeyongers · 3 months
Text
Between the Hammer and Anvil (M)
Tumblr media
pairing: mafia boss/ceo taeyong x spy reader
genre: childhood friends to lovers, mob au, ceo au
word count: 33.6k
summary: you are a member of yuta's mob sent to spy on a rival mob's boss taeyong who unfortunately happens to be your childhood love that you haven't seen in a decade. when you realize he's still in love with you, and you with him, you grapple with the reality of your mission. (also includes best friend jungwoo and brief Johnny appearance)
warnings: blood, guns, gunfights, illicit activities, minor to medium injuries, physical violence, kidnapping, mentions of death, explicit sexual content, subyong and domyong and everything in between, oral (m. and f. receiving), slight hair pulling and breathplay, semi public (office) smut. healthy relationship though (besides the spying), accidental pregnancy. minors dni.
Tumblr media
“The Scorpion?” You echo. The name is big, feared, and known throughout the criminal world, but never you thought you’d take him on.
“Yes. We need to infiltrate his base.” Your boss, Yuta, speaks busily while sifting through folders on his desk.
“That’s a bold move. He’s the most powerful mob boss in the city.”
“We have no choice. They’ve slowly been taking over our territories. I know we are big in the city as well, second only to him, but he’s too powerful to fight head on. We need to turn the tide against him before we’re nearly wiped out, and we do that by infiltrating his base.” He glances at you. “We need to get intel from there directly so we can figure out how to sabotage his operations, eliminate his members, and hit him where it hurts. Then, with the most powerful organization crumbling, we can take over.” 
You mull the idea over in your mind. It’s a good idea in theory but you can’t imagine how you can possibly put it into action. “Do you know where his base is?” He shakes his head. You snort. “No offense, Yuta, but for all your wittiness, this plan is foolhardy. Not to mention risky. How do you intend on infiltrating him? He’s smart, powerful, and hides in the shadows. No one knows who or where he is.”
Yuta smiles. “Nobody did. But I do.” He rummages through his files. 
You blink. “You managed to uncover his real identity?”
“Yes.. with a great deal of tracking and tracing through member interactions, we’re about ninety percent sure of his identity.” He seems to find the file he was looking for and pulls up a paper for view. “And I need you to go in, pose as a new recruit, monitor them for a while and then come back and report to me.”
Now, you laugh. “What makes you think they’d just let me in willy nilly?”
Yuta grins behind the paper. “Because the Scorpion knows you.” You freeze. He puts the paper on top of a deck of documents in a folder and slides the case file across the table towards you. The thick stack of papers come into view haphazardly, but the printed photo on top slides stops your heart. Familiar eyes, face, all from your memories. “His name is Taeyong.”
Your mind swirls in flashbacks. Taeyong. A childhood friend. A friend whose father was a mob boss. Your father worked directly under him and you were Taeyong’s age, so naturally, you grew up together, from elementary into high school years. It was always expected that he was to take over his father’s position. His father’s organization was far reaching, well established, and successful. Yet no one would’ve ever believed Taeyong was a mob boss’ heir. He was always kind, funny, full of life, and soft. You’d watch him fall from the jungle gym and cry, thinking he’s soft, much too soft. You wondered how he could possibly be related to his ruthless father while wiping his tears and putting a bandaid on his wound, secretly hoping his softness never went away. 
But around high school, he’d suddenly grown shy, avoiding eye contact, avoiding everything, avoiding you completely. It hurt at first and then frustrated you to no end. You’d cornered him between the shelves of the library, watching his face painted full pink, flusteredly asking you what you were doing but all you could say was you’re my best friend, please don't leave me with tears in your eyes. He’d looked shocked, then relaxed, then apologized, finally, promising he wouldn’t. Painfully, painfully ironic because the next day was the last time you saw him.The police had managed to pin your father with evidence. Your dad suddenly made you pack and leave the state before he got caught. You recall crying in the car as you drove away from your home, your friends, from Taeyong. You’ve missed him every day since, even until now. Sometimes, the inexplicable aching emptiness threatens to swallow you whole.
Since moving here to a place outside police jurisdiction, your father began working directly under another mob boss. Twelve years later, it fell to his son Yuta’s leadership, while you followed your father’s footsteps after his early passing and joined to work directly under him. 
Yuta was reasonable but strict. And when he was ruthless, he was terrifying. Fitting for what was needed in a kingpin. He used you as his weapon for many missions and was usually successful. But this.. this is beyond what you had bargained for.
“Y/n?” Yuta’s voice shakes you out of your stupor. “Do you recognize him?” You blink rapidly, eyes tracing over the very grown features of the once lanky, shy boy you saw last. The Scorpion. So, it seems that Taeyong did take over his father’s position after all. 
“Yes,” you force out, voice shaky for some indiscernible reason.
“Great,” he sighs in relief. “I heard you grew up with him. We can use this to our advantage. If you try to join their organization, hopefully high up in the ranks. He might let you in easily. Then, you can infiltrate and we’ll have our victory on our hands.” Infiltrate. Let you in. You’ll have to see him again..
“No.” The word falls from your mouth before you can stop it. “I… I can’t do it.”
Yuta’s eyes narrow. “You’ve never refused a mission before. Why not?”
“We have uh..” your throat burns. “..history” 
He raises a brow, understanding seeping into his features. “A lover?”
Your cheeks burn, and you look away. “No.. just friends.”
Yuta looks skeptical. “How long ago?”
“Twelve years.” 
“Good. That's enough time to be over him, or for him to be over you.” He continues rummaging through papers. You realize he’s going to continue with this plan. Your eyes flit back to the photograph, of Taeyong staring up at you, of memory flashes of soft, sweet smiles and blushing and butterflies. The thought of seeing him again, of betraying him…
“Yuta.” He hums in question. “I can't do it. Find someone else.”
He glares at you before scoffing. “You’re being dramatic. Just get in there, infiltrate, and get out. Find his weak points, things we can take advantage of.” Yuta drops the other papers onto the table. “I can’t find someone else to do it. You’re the only one he won't suspect since he knows you.” You hesitate. He leans forward. “You’re telling me that you’d betray us, after a decade, for a boy you had a crush on in childhood?”
“Of course not!” You say, but uncertainty flares in your chest. You are fiercely loyal to Yuta. You can’t imagine betraying him for anyone else.. but this is different territory.
“Good. All you have to do is remember your allegiance and get intel and come back in a month.”
A month.. you will have to interact with taeyong for a month. “And how will I join them if I don’t know where their base is?”
“Easy. You talk to their recruiter.” He says, filing all the papers back into the folder. “I had one of our guys spread the word around about a daughter of a former mob member who has great skills for illegal activities. It’s only a matter of time before they call you.”
You snort. “Wow, you even gave them my phone number?”
“I don’t need to. They’ll trace you on their own.” He answers distractedly, gathering the files. “Why don’t you take the next week off? I don’t want you here when they trace your number and location. Maybe hang around in a coffee shop or something?”
You watch him, nerves creeping up. “You’ve really planned this out, huh? What if I had said no?”
He glances at you. “Remember, this is our only chance to take down the Scorpion and ensure our success for years. I’m not going to waste it. Besides,” he smiles, plopping the files into a near pile on the table. “You never had a choice anyway.”
...
You begrudgingly visit coffee shops, parks and other public places the next week and stay away from Yuta’s base. Sure enough, you get a call from a private number.The man on the other end identifies himself as a recruiter for an illicit organization. The recruiter’s voice was rich and sweet, like molasses or honey. You find yourself enjoying listening to it. He calls himself Jungwoo and says that he heard about you through his connections, that he knew your father worked for this group a long while ago, and that they’d love for you to work with them. You try to sound interested and accept, feeling your stomach churn all the while. You are that much closer to seeing Taeyong after over a decade. He tells you to go to a specific location in the city from where he will pick you up. You follow his directions and within an hour, you’re climbing into a sleek black van with a young, handsome man and driving down the highway.
“We know about your father. He was a well respected man. It’s a shame what happened,” he recounts.
“Yeah, a shame.” You reply distantly, your mind only on the idea of seeing Taeyong after all these years and spy and subsequently betray him. Your stomach churns more.
“Were you okay after that? Did you go into hiding?” 
“Uh.. yeah. The police never managed to catch my dad once we left this area.” You are careful to leave out the part where you got involved with another mob, unknowingly the rival of Taeyong’s.
“That’s good. It’s nice that you can return here now.” He smiles at you. You inspect him. Is everyone working under Taeyong going to be this nice? 
“When I join.. do you know what position I’ll be or… or who I’ll work under?”
He hums in thought. “Well, since you’re a fresh recruit, you’ll be at the bottom of the hierarchy. Give it a few years and you’ll work your way up. You may even work directly under the boss.”
A few years? You will never get valuable intel for Yuta while working as a simple recruit. You need to be higher up than that to get valuable information. The gears in your mind turn until you play the only card you have. “Is there a Taeyong there?”
Jungwoo freezes, eyes flitting to you suspiciously. Nobody is supposed to know who the boss is, so you’re hoping to play it off like a coincidence “Taeyong? How do you know him?” He asks guardedly. 
“We were friends when my father worked directly under his father. I was wondering if he was still here.” Jungwoo’s brows furrow, and you explain further. “Yes, we grew up together.”
Jungwoo gives you a once over before carefully acquiescing. “Yes.. there might be someone like that there. I’ll have to double check our members’ list when we get inside. We’re almost here anyway.” He pulls the car into the lot of a large building that looks like a typical financial office building. Jungwoo parks his car and takes you through the doors, past reception and towards the elevators. The lobby is filled with people who look like office workers, dressed in formal wear and carrying briefcases and files. You figure it’s a nice camouflage for the real happenings of this building. Yuta’s group is mainly hidden underground in the slums and didn’t need this much of a cover. Once in the elevators, you both go to the highest floor. Upon stepping out, you catch sight of the floor to ceiling windows in the hallway. You can see the entire city’s skyline from here. Jungwoo leads you to an empty office room with some chairs and tables. “Please wait here. I’ll uh… check if Taeyong is here and knows you.”
“Okay,” you say, watching him leave. The moment the door shuts closed, your heart begins pounding. You’ve rarely been nervous before, not even during missions or shootouts. But this is different, so wildly different, you don’t know how to behave. You settle for focusing on the stunning view outside the window in order to ground yourself. Not even five minutes later, the door swings open abruptly. You whirl around to see two figures standing in the doorway, making no effort to come inside the room.
One is unmistakably Taeyong, dressed in a suit and hair carefully combed back from his face. His face, that he grew into after all these years, makes your heart come to a stop. His eyes are the same, big and wide and wonderful, even wider now with the shocked expression he wears, along with his parted mouth. His hand is still clamped around the door knob as if it's an anchor to reality. He stands there motionless, eyes running over you in disbelief. Jungwoo stands behind him, slightly bewildered at his reaction. “Y/n?”
Similar shock and disbelief well up inside you. Your churning stomach turns into a butterfly garden. “Taeyong…”
Junwoo watches the exchange before stepping back into the hallway. “Okay.. I.. think I’ll just stand outside.” He disappears from behind Taeyong who dazedly steps into the room. He looks so grown and handsome, with the same eyes you’ve always known.
“Jungwoo asked me… if I knew a Y/n…” he says, his voice so familiar even after a decade. “All I did was just run over here…” He steps forward carefully towards you until he’s standing in front of you. With him so close, your stomach turns into a bursting mush of butterflies and tingles. With his dark eyes drinking in every feature of your face, you barely recall where you are and why you came here in the first place.
“I… It’s been a while,” you manage out.
He blinks, as if registering your voice. “Yes. You’re... grown up,” he flushes. “You’re beautiful.” Your face burns, and burns again when his lips fall into a fond smile, eyes running over your features.“I missed you,” he breathes out. You find yourself  sucking in a breath. “Can I hug you?”
You pull him into you without a word, arms wrapping tightly around him. He melts immediately, hands pressing you closer against his chest. You sigh in the embrace, head resting on his shoulder. “I missed you too,” you say, voice cracking a bit this time. The daily, inexplicable longing you’ve felt for a decade has all been washed away in this moment. He squeezes you tighter, nosing your hair, so warm and safe in your arms that you never ever want to leave. It's a minute or two before he reluctantly lets go with a warm smile. He still looks so soft, just as in childhood, and it’s hard to believe you’re hugging a kingpin of a criminal empire.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” He touches your face again, gently. “Were you just recruited?” You nod, pressing your cheek into his hand. “Ah,” he blinks. “Jungwoo?” He calls. The man steps through the open door, eyes taking in the close distance between you two. “She’ll be working directly under me. Give her clearance to everything.”
Your brain grinds to a halt while Jungwoo looks skeptical. “Will she go through the initiation?”
“Not needed.” Taeyong turns back to you, eyes softening. “Her father worked with us for many years. No doubt she’ll be just as loyal as him.”
Jungwoo furrows his brows and looks as if he’s about to say something. Then, he stops himself, says “yes, Boss” and walks out the door, closing it behind him. Taeyong doesn’t pay any mind. He’s still gazing at you, smiling.
“So.. Boss huh?” 
He smiles, shrugging. “It took some getting used to.”
“For a kingpin called the Scorpion, you still look like the soft boy crying on the playground.”
He grins playfully. “Do I?” You nod, chuckling. “I’m glad you still remember.”
“Of course I remember. I remember everything about you.”
A light pink settles on his cheeks and you know you’re right; take out the title and he’s still the same boy you knew. “Listen, we actually have a meeting right now with my staff. I want you to join.”
And suddenly you remember why you’re here, how this is a supposed golden opportunity as Taeyong’s mob’s rival, and your heart bleeds in pain. “Ah.. is it really okay for me to join without an initiation?”
“Of course,” he answers easily, trusting, always too trusting. He hesitates and seems to gather courage to raise his hand and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Your stomach bursts into a mess of butterflies once again and you hold your breath, not daring to move. His eyes are soft and you find yourself mesmerized. “You’re already part of this family, just as your father was.”
You grow unbearably soft, forgetting even the guilt as you gaze silently back at him. He does the same, and the air shifts in the silence. He looks like he’s about to say something before someone knocks on the door. “Boss, the meeting is starting,” Jungwoo’s muffled voice sounds through the door.
Taeyong blinks himself back to the present and smiles warmly at you. At that moment, you know more than anything that you don't deserve him. “Come on, let’s go.”
...
The meeting is held in a large room at the end of a hallway that is covered in crystal clear, floor to ceiling windows. You marvel at just how much money this organization must be bringing in compared to Yuta’s. No wonder he wants to take down this group so badly. As soon as you enter, all eyes are on you. A dozen men and women are dressed in suits and formal wear, as if this were no different than a business conference. You have to admit, they play their front well. Taeyong enters behind you and closes the door before standing in front of the room. “Everyone, this is our new member.” He gestures to you and introduces your name. 
You feel self conscious as skeptical eyes burn into you from around the room. Given your experience with mobs and their initiation process, no new member should be joining the ranks so high up in the hierarchy, let alone be introduced directly by the boss himself to the inner circle. None of these people should know you yet. You should even be here in this room. And from their questioning glances at Taeyong, they know this too. Taeyong is either oblivious or ignores them by the time he’s done introducing you. You smile and bow slightly before awkwardly shuffling into the back of the room, out of sight, with everyone’s eyes following you all the way. 
Taeyong seems to ignore the confused glares and questioning glances and starts the meeting. He outlines high level happenings of the organization, just as a CEO would for a corporation. You watch him confidently explain plans, ask questions to different people, and instruct them on what to do. It’s a marvel, and so different from who you knew in childhood. You take in his frame, dressed in his blazer and black button down and with matching trousers. A kingpin indeed. After giving instructions specific to each person on how to execute the phases of their next operation, he dismisses the group and everyone shuffles out. Soon, he stands alone at the front of the room, peering at the laptop screen sitting open on the table.
You saunter over to him. “You didn’t give me any orders, Boss.”
He looks up suddenly, a little startled, then seems to register your words. You catch the slightest glimpse of a blush before he looks down and rubs his hand across his mouth, obscuring his cheeks. “We uh… may need help identifying possible locations of a big shipment dropoff. You can work with Jungwoo on that. He’ll let you know what to do.”
You notice how he avoids your eyes. “Is that an order?” His eyes stay trained on the laptop, hands moving up from his mouth to scratch the back of his neck.
“Uh huh.” He suddenly catches you trying to hold back a laugh and sighs, ducking his head. “This feels strange. I don’t like giving you orders.”
“I’m just like everyone else.”
He looks at you like he’s about to protest but looks down again. “You aren’t,” he murmurs, almost to himself.
And if that didn’t make your chest hurt with an absurd amount of heart flutters, you would be lying. You watch him silently, not knowing what else to say. “I’ll get right on it, Boss.”His cheeks seem to tint that much more as you leave the room.
...
You’re supposed to be collecting intel, not helping them, you try to remind yourself as you find Jungwoo’s desk out on the main floor of cubicles. He greets you and pulls up a chair beside him in front of his computer monitor.“So, how was your first day?” He smiles as you settle in.
“Not so bad. I think the skeptical looks will take some getting used to.”
“They’ll warm up. Your situation is unusual, after all,” Jungwoo comments. “I’m surprised how quickly you’ve adjusted without skipping a beat. Almost as if you’ve been working for another organization all along,” he jokes. You laugh nervously. “Speaking of unusual, Taeyong seems to .. like you.” He eyes you inquisitively.
“Yeah. I’ve known him for a while. We didnt get to have a proper goodbye the last time we saw each other.”
“I see,” Jungwoo nods. “So were you together? Back before…”
“Oh no, we weren’t,” you shake your head. “Just friends.”
He squints, smiling. “Really? Because you two seem awfully close. I’ve actually never seen him like this before. I’ve been working closely with him for a while now and he has a tendency towards being on the softer side but he is never not strict and can be ruthless when needed. That’s how we become so successful. But with you, all that seems to melt away.”
You can’t imagine Taeyong being ruthless. Ever since childhood, and even until now, he’s been nothing but sweet and kind in everything that he does. “I think he’s just sentimental,” you wave it off. “It’s been twelve years, after all.”
Jungwoo doesn’t seem to buy it. “Whatever it is, it’s only a matter of time before he starts showing favoritism towards you and everyone will take notice. Actually, he already has shown favoritism, and everyone has taken notice.”
Your cheeks burn. You were supposed to not draw attention to yourself. “If you’re talking about letting me in without going through initiation, I think that was just a one time thing. I’m sure from now on, I’ll be treated just like everyone else. No special attention here.” 
Jungwoo is about to say something before a woman approaches his desk, calling your name. “Boss wants to see you in his office.”
Jungwoo gives you an insufferably knowing look. You ignore him and follow the lady. She guides you down the main floor of cubicles and towards the end of the hallway with large wooden double doors. It’s clearly the room of someone important. She drags open one heavy door by the long vertical handle and ushers you inside. You step tentatively through and balk at the scene before you. Taeyong’s office is massive - as big as a house. The ceilings are two stories tall. On the left wall, there is a main desk area in front of three bookshelves and various art decor. An armchair sits behind the large desk made of some fancy high caliber wood. On the right, there is a seating area with leather couches and chairs upon an expensive looking, misshapen- shaped rug. Of course, there’s a marble fireplace on the right wall to top it off.
“Oh my god,” you whisper as you step in. Yuta would be fuming with jealousy if he saw this.
You hear a chuckle. You didn’t even notice Taeyong standing by the back end of the room, given that the size of his office completely dwarfs him. He walks towards you with a wine bottle in hand. “Do you like it?” He smiles. “It’s my favorite room in the whole building.”
You step further into the room, taking in even more details you didn’t see at first glance. The leather of the armchair, the carved ivy detailing on the fireplace, the nameplate on his desk that looks suspiciously like it’s made of gold. “Yeah, I can see why.”
He grins again, motioning to his wine glass. “I was thinking we can catch up over wine. We barely had a chance to talk today. And we have twelve years to cover.”
You smile slowly and nod. “Sounds like a great idea.”
Within twenty minutes, you two are laughing over sloshing wine glasses and reminiscing excitedly over old memories. “I could not believe you,” he laughs, filling your glass again.
“I just wanted to know what riding on a bus felt like!” You protest, lifting the glass just as he was done pouring to take another sip.
“But you got on the bus with no ticket at eight years old?” He gazes at you, wide eyed.
“I was curious what a bus would be like! I’m pretty sure the bus driver thought I was one of the other passenger’s kids when I came on so he didn’t bother with the ticket.”
He struggles, laughing between breaths. “How long did it travel before you started freaking out?”
“Like ten minutes.” He laughs louder, hitting his hand on the desk you both are leaning against. “I demanded to be let off. I realized I didn’t know any of those people or where I was going. It was a good thing the bus stopped near your house.”
“I remember you rang the door crying,” he giggles, sipping his glass. “I figure being so rich really does inspire curiosity in such everyday things.”
“Yeah, with all that untaxed money our fathers made from illegal activities, we missed out on a lot of everyday things, so I was completely justified.” You emphasize, watching him laugh again. You smile giddily, feeling energized and oddly proud you can make him laugh so much. 
“Of course you were,” he acquiesces easily. 
“Our fathers were always busy but do you remember how they’d just drop us off at one of our houses or the other when they needed to go to work?”
“Oh yeah, those playdates were fun.” He smiles, eyes distant. “You were genuinely my only friend back then.”
You protest with a noise before you even finish drinking from the glass. “That’s not true! Remember your ninth birthday party with all our classmates?”
He scoffs before taking another sip, his smile fading. “Yeah, classmates, not friends. Remember that one kid blew out my birthday cake candles before I could? And I just broke down in tears?”
“Oh no, I do remember.” You recount your sadness while watching your friend crying and then the burning anger your nine-year-old self felt afterwards. “Oh and then I-“
“Then you took a chunk of the cake and shoved into that kid’s face,” Taeyong laughs brightly. “You got in so much trouble. And you ruined the cake, but that made my day.” You giggle, remembering the lecturing by multiple parents and the annoying kid crying into his mother’s skirt with pieces of cake still smeared on his face. All that mattered to you though was that Taeyong was smiling through the entire aftermath.
“I didn’t like that kid anyway. He teased me on the playground every day, yet my mom invited him.”
You frown. “I hated him for that.”
He looks at you fondly. “I know.”
You flush a little bit under his gaze, then straighten up and blame it on the alcohol. “Remember middle school and high school and how awkward we got?”
Yong suddenly grows shy and scratches his neck. “Ah yeah… I regret those days.”
“Puberty does wonders,” you roll your eyes before looking at him pointedly. “And our peers not minding their own business while being extremely heteronormative and interrogating any co-ed friendship throughout the entire school,” you point your glass at him. “Which ultimately led you to completing ghosting me freshman year.”
Yong waves his wine glass in apology, approaching you. “I’m sorry! People wouldn’t leave me alone! Besides.. you were ah..” he trails off, looking to the side as he always does when he's embarrassed. You mentally note again how difficult it is to believe he’s a mob boss. 
“I was what?” You press lightly.
“You were becoming really pretty and.. uh.. I.. was a toad,” he sighs.
You laugh out loud, reaching out to hold his hand in comfort. “You were not!” 
“I was! Do you even know what fifteen year old boys look like?” He shakes his head as he comes to stand before you. “All the wrong proportions.”
You shake your head, smiling giddily at the wine flowing through your system. You set your glass down onto his desk and tug him closer by the shoulders. “You were perfect,” you say purposefully, but don't miss the way a flush rises to his cheeks. Whether it's from the wine or your words or both, you can't tell. “Remember when I cornered you in the library sophomore year?”
His eyes widen. “Yes! I couldn’t tell if you were going to punch me or kiss me.”
You laugh again. “But instead I cried and said I missed you and asked you to talk to me again.”
Taeyong chuckles, eyes growing sober. “Yeah. And I promised to. But the next day..”
“Yeah, the next day.. I left.” Silence fills the room. The muscles of your face are slightly tired from all the smiling. You realize you’ve barely registered how close Taeyong has come to stand in the midst of talking. Your hands are still on his shoulders. His smile fades away until now there's an intense look in his eyes.
“I missed you, Y/n.”
Your chest aches. “Me too. I missed you too.” His eyes dart between yours, and find yourself falling into them. They are the same sparkling, wondrous, soulful eyes you've always known, which have always looked at you like this. It's when these eyes dart to your lips that your mind stops working. A burning, fluttering sensation erupts in your stomach like it did when you were back in middle school, being questioned by your friends on if you were in love with Lee Taeyong. You register him leaning a bit closer. His nose nudges yours, hands slide around your waist, and his hot breath fans your mouth. You subconsciously tighten your grip on his shoulders, your heart rate speeding up, your stomach twisting into knots. All you have to do is angle your head up…. 
Your lips barely brush his before a loud knock erupts from the double doors. Both of you freeze and are ripped back into reality. “Boss? Something just came up. We need you in the meeting room.” A muffled voice sounds through the door. 
Your hands retract from Taeyong’s shoulders with heat crawling across your face. His hands slip from your waist in return, his head falling forward in disappointment before calling out, “I’ll be right there.”
You clear your throat, cheeks burning. “I should go. Unless you need me for whatever that is.“
He shakes his head, rubbing his hand over his mouth like he does to hide his blush. “No no, you go on home. I don’t want you to be overworked on your first day.”
You gaze at him. He looks a bit put out and avoids all eye contact, frowning. You briefly wonder if he even enjoys being a mob boss. You lean up and kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He brightens up considerably, a smile blooming back onto his lips, eyes sparkling once more. “Yeah.. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
...
You return home in the evening, mentally replaying every single moment of that day. You swear your heart feels lighter than it has in years, as if the answers to all your life questions have been found. The world around you even seems to be a bit more colorful and you find yourself enjoying the walk from the parking lot to your apartment. You lightly smack your head. “Oh god, what am I doing? I’m a member of the mafia, not a giddy high school girl in love.”
Were you in love? Your cheeks burn, remembering how you shamefully melted at every single thing Taeyong did and said today. You even threw all caution to the wind and almost kissed him. You force yourself back to reality with a pounding heart. You really don’t want to know the answer to your question. You spot something in front of your doorstep and find a small cardboard package addressed to you from an unknown address. You step inside your apartment and rip open the cardboard flaps, revealing a brand new cell phone with a note. It reads: Activate this. Don’t take this anywhere outside your house. So, Yuta sent you a separate untraceable phone with which you can contact him to provide intel. You loathe how smart that man is. Groaning, you plop onto the couch and activate the phone.  As soon as it’s set up, you receive a call. “Hello?”
“Missed me?” Yuta’s voice sounds from the other end.
You rub your forehead. “You tracked my location to figure out when I came home so you could call me?” 
“Yes but mainly so I could find out where the Scorpion’s base was,” you hear him smiling on the other end. “And now I do, thanks to you.”
“Great,” you say sarcastically. Now Yuta knows where the headquarters are. You’re not sure if that’s good. 
“So?” He prods. “Tell me everything.” You hesitate and then relay to him how you were accepted without initiation and are working directly under Taeyong. You feel dirty while doing it, knowing you’re nothing but a weapon to Yuta for selling out a man who completely trusts you. “Good. Very good. Keep doing this until you collect enough information that we can use to really hurt them.”
“…Alright,” you say tiredly. There’s a glaring silence from the other end. You sigh and adjust your tone.  “Yes, Boss, I’ll get right on it.”
“Good,” he says before hanging up. You toss the phone across the cushion, feeling disgusted. What are you doing? How can you do this to Taeyong? You bury your head in your hands, mulling over your reality. At the same time, Yuta and his father helped you and your family when you had no one. You feel guilty if you don't do as he says, as if you were caught between two impossible choices.
You don't sleep well that night. 
...
You return to the office the next day. Jungwoo texted beforehand asking if you needed a ride to the office but you figured you could take your own car. Once you’re inside the building, it amazes you again just how much like a typical financial office space the entire place looks. People are busy with files and documents, rushing this way and that in their business clothes, meetings are held in conference rooms, and telephones ring throughout the floor. What a mask for the sheer amount of illegal activities happening here. You find Jungwoo seated at his desk, working away already. He greets you with a smile and a pat to the chair next to his. You vaguely remember you’re supposed to be helping him pick locations for some shipment dropoff. 
“Shall we pick up where we left off yesterday? You know, before the Boss whisks you away again?” He grins, teasingly. “By the way, I saw you leaving the office yesterday looking very flushed.”
Yesterday's memories flash through your mind, of the laughing and flushed cheeks and that almost kiss. You clear your throat abruptly. “We were just drinking wine and catching up.”
He grins into his coffee mug, swinging his chair a little to face his computer screen, not believing you for one second. You sigh and begin your work, asking plenty of questions when you need to. Jungwoo is kind and explains everything, their operations, clients, alliances, even the hierarchy of the organization itself. It’s a wealth of intel and you loathe it. You loathe having to know and learn things from people who trust you. You dread having to report it to Yuta. Your resolve in this “mission” falters by the day and you’re not sure your loyalty can last this week.  
You barely see Taeyong today. You only catch a glimpse of him talking to a subordinate in the hallway before disappearing into his office. Whatever came up yesterday must have made him very busy. You try not to deflate. Once the day ends, you bid Jungwoo goodbye, give one last glance at the hallway to Taeyong’s office and head home. You don’t get a call from Yuta that night. After all, he made it clear that you are expected to call him and report any new intel you receive, but you don't have it in you today, or for any day for that matter. The evening passes by uneventfully and you fall asleep in your bed. 
...
Like a dutiful employee, you return to the office the next day and the next, slowly getting used to the daily routine of the organization. You even begin to enjoy it. You are given the easiest tasks and are often paired up with Jungwoo, who you already know and who readily helps you understand things. You wonder how many new initiates were afforded the same privilege upon joining. Taeyong even invites you to his office again a few times this week for more wine and story time sessions. You’re happy to see him, but this time, you’re careful to keep a distance and not drink too much lest you repeat what almost happened the other night. Kissing him would make things… complicated, even more than they are now. You're not sure you’ll go back to Yuta if you do, no matter how much you want to kiss him. Taeyong seems to notice your distance and keeps a respectful space. You try not to feel disappointed that he does.
From the outside, it becomes evident that everyone else views you differently. They either avoid you completely or are overly respectful and almost treat you as their boss. You ponder Jungwoo’s words earlier, that everyone will take notice of Taeyong’s favoritism of you. The regularly scheduled rendezvous office sessions with their Boss probably aren't helping. You wonder if your preferential treatment will invite resentment from anyone. So far, everyone has been respectful to you, but by the end of the week, you get your answer.
You get your answer to two things, actually. One, your preferential treatment definitely does invite someone’s resentment. Two, you couldn't imagine Taeyong being ruthless. You said that before today. On the way to Taeyong’s office one day for another meet up, one of the male employees lingers behind you, the same one you’ve seen around with a perpetual stink eye and a bad attitude. You don’t recall exactly what happens, only that he’s spitting insults at you as he follows that steadily grow to shouting. 
“Outsider!” He shouts. “You didn’t even go through the initiation and you’re on more classified projects than I am!? Hell, you’re probably making more money than me.” You shoot him a glare without a word. You’re almost to Taeyong’s office. The brute will leave you alone then.
“Doesn’t even have the decency to turn around,” he growls. “Fucking bitch.” Then, his hand is in your hair, yanking you backwards sharply against his chest. The pain is like needles shooting throughout your scalp, stars and tears bursting from your eyes. Despite the shock, your training kicks in immediately, and you elbow him in the ribs so that he keels over. He lets go of your hair, giving you the chance to turn around and go for a kick to the chest.
You don’t have a chance to do anything else before someone is throwing him off of you. He’s knocked into the wall of the hallway before he falls down. Taeyong is bent over him, clutching the man’s jacket until his knuckles turn white to lift him partly off the ground. He is absolutely furious, something you have never ever seen before, yelling something that you don't register. Then, he punches him in the face. Other people are shouting and running down the hall towards you three. Taeyong’s eyes are hard, jaw clenched, his fist cocked and pulled back as if to punch the man again. You step forward, hands finding his shoulders and stepping him away from the man groaning on the floor. Taeyong’s eyes are cold and glaring.
“I want him out!” He shouts, uncharacteristic, pointing past your shoulder. “I want him stripped of everything, all clearances, documents, his name on everything. I want him out of here and dropped at a police station! He can rot in jail for all I care!” People rush to do his bidding, restraining the groaning man and lifting him off the ground. An ugly bruise is already forming on his cheek where Taeyong punched him. You tug him into his office and shut the large door closed. The commotion and noise from outside is muffled here in the silence of his room. Taeyong however is still restless. His chest is heaving in anger, jaw clenching as he paces back and forth. He’s clutching his one fist, which seems slightly swollen. 
“That fucking pig.” He growls, taking you back. You’ve never even heard him curse before today. “What the hell was he thinking!? Putting his hands on…” he focuses on you, softening. “Did he touch you? Did he hurt you? Of course he hurt you, I saw him-“ his voice wavers before becoming harsh again. “I swear to God I will-“
“Taeyong, hey, look at me,” you reach for his arms to stop him from pacing. He stops moving and closes his eyes to take a deep breath. In the next moment, he exhales and opens his eyes to gaze at you, his stunning eyes that you’ve loved for years. Your heart softens. You don’t want him to be in such pain. 
“I’m sorry. I’m not usually like this,” he mumbles.
“Well, he got what he deserved. You just beat me to the punch.” 
“It’s not that. I’m not this jittery or restless. I’ve dealt with worse than these kind of people before. I would’ve instructed someone else to restrain him but when I saw that it was you, I…” he trails off, eyes growing unfocused.
“Are you okay?” You cup his bruised hand.
His eyes flit back to you. “You’re asking me?” He releases another breath, thinks for a moment and shakes his head. “No I’m not,” his voice wavers.
You push forward and hug him gently. You wonder if it’s been a long time since he’s lost his composure. “I’m okay. I'm here and I'm okay.” You can feel him trembling against you and slowly relax, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you tightly against him. Then he gives in, inhaling your scent and burying his face in your neck. 
“You’re okay,” he repeats, a bit shakily. You’re taken aback about how absolutely undone he is, how worried, how much he cares for you. It might even be a trauma response from you disappearing from his life all those years ago without a word.
A lump forms in your throat. “I’m sorry,” you mumble into his shoulder. He pulls away in confusion, his wonderful eyes roaming your face in question. “Not for this. I’m sorry I left. I.. must have put you through so much pain.”
His eyelids flutter, arms around you squeezing tighter. It’s ridiculously comforting. “That wasn’t your fault.” You stay silent, tucking your chin back onto his shoulder, heart feeling heavy. “I’m sorry for what that pig did to you.” His voice is harsh, and you can feel his jaw clenching against your shoulder. “He was always a shady guy, harassing other members.” 
You pull away slightly. “It's okay, it's not my first time.” He looks at you with such disturbed anguish you feel bad for saying anything. “But I'm okay. I'm alright.” 
He sighs and gives you a thin smile. Then, he blinks and remembers to let you go. Your arms detangle from each other and you stand there, gazing silently, before he speaks. “I’m sure you could have taken him,” he smiles.
“Yes, I could have,” you grin. 
He smiles a bit proudly, then looks to the door. “I should.. take care of the commotion outside.”
You nod. “Sure.. and thank you.”
He looks confused then looks away, scratching his neck “You don't have to thank me. It was… well I didn’t even process what I was doing when I did it.”
You smile. “Still, I got to see another side of you.”
He flushes, looking away. “And you… you like it?”
You shrug. “I finally know why you're a mob boss.”
He smiles, his expression almost relieved, before he chuckles and takes his leave. When he disappears into the hallway outside, you feel an ache from the empty feeling of missing his arms around you. When you get home and Yuta calls, there's no information you want to give him. “What did you learn this week?”
“Nothing.”
Silence fills the room for a moment. “Are you serious? You’ve been there for a week now and there's no new info?” 
“What do you want to know, Yuta?” You snap. The deceptiveness of this mission has finally taken its toll on you. Seeing Taeyong drop everything to defend you today is enough to make you not want to help Yuta again. 
“I don’t know! Key operations? Shipment drop-offs? Members' names? Where can we hurt them the most, Y/n!?”
You groan internally, wishing you can just hang up. You remember finishing your task with Jungwoo in picking a drop off location for a shipment. You figure this is relatively harmless information to keep Yuta off your back. “They’re dropping off some important shipment for some high profile clients, probably government officials, tomorrow at eleven at the hotel on twelfth street. Maybe if you intercept them you can get that shipment and hurt Taeyong’s operations.”
“Taeyong? You’re not calling him the Scorpion anymore?”
You curse mentally. “Scorpion, sorry.”
There’s silence from the other line. “This information is barely useful but I’ll take it.” He pauses. “Do you remember where your loyalty lies?”
You roll your eyes. “Of course.”
“Good. Because the minute it changes, I’ll have you extracted from there.” He hangs up abruptly. It’s a threat. He knows your allegiance has changed. Although, it’s not as if you tried very hard to conceal that fact.
...
You decide to go in late the next day after lunch, mainly because you were tossing and turning awake all night. But the minute you walk into the office, the air is different. Everyone is tense and nervously mumbling. You approach Jungwoo at his desk who also looks more nervous than usual. You take in his bouncing leg and him peering at the computer monitor, reading an email intently. He barely notices when you slide into the chair next to him. “What’s wrong with everybody today?” Jungwoo startles at your voice, but instead of greeting you with a warm smile as he usually does, he looks at you sympathetically. You gaze at him, your smile fading. “Jungwoo, what is it?”
“Taeyong was shot.”
“What!?” you stand up so fast, the chair tips over and clatters to the floor behind you. He stands up with you, hands up in a placating gesture.
“Listen, he’s fine! He was meeting with some government officials today during our dropoff location and somehow, someone seemed to know he was there and that he was the Scorpion. They tried to take him out.” You are paralyzed, a wave of nauseas guilt hitting you all at once. “I’m not sure what followed. There was a scuffle of some kind, maybe he fought the gunman after being shot.. the details were unclear. It was a bullet graze to his shoulder and a few other injuries from the scuffle. He got checked at the hospital and they bandaged him up. He’s resting at home now. But he’s kind of depressed and won’t let anyone in, he said, though I think he’ll make an exception for you.”
Your heart flips. “Can I see him?” He nods and both of you hurriedly take your leave and get into Jungwoo’s car to drive to Taeyong’s home. His “home” turns out to be a ridiculously sized penthouse in a ridiculously sized high rise luxury apartment. “I guess the salary is good,” you mumble, peering up at the building from your window.
Jungwoo snorts. “You have no idea.” You enter the equally ridiculously luxurious lobby and Jungwoo escorts you to a special elevator that seems off limits to everyone else. “This will take you directly to his apartment.” He says, ushering you inside the elevator and pulling out a card from his wallet. “Just text me to let me know when you want me to take you home.”
You watch him scan the card against a pad and step back out of the elevator. “Thank you, Jungwoo,” you say sincerely.
He gives a nod. “Just make sure he’s alright.”
Then, the doors close, cutting off your view of him, before you’re taken directly to the top floor. With a ding, the doors open, revealing polished marble floor and ceiling. You step through hesitantly. His penthouse is much like his office, oversized and luxurious. It’s two stories tall with marble walls and floor, and a floor to ceiling window view of the city skyline in the living room that stops your breath. You wonder if he lives in this entire place alone, as you wander through the space. Somehow, you find your way to his bedroom and knock on the door. You hear a groan from the other end. “I said go away, Jungwoo, I don’t want-“
“It’s me.” Silence answers from the other side before you hear a small “come in.”Your heart leaps into your throat when you spot him lying on the bed with a bloody bandage wrapped around his shoulder. Other cuts and bruises litter his arms and face, and probably his torso which are obscured by his shirt. Tears sting your eyes. You see people injured everyday as part of your job but this is not bearable. Even worse, this is all your fault, all because you told Yuta that intel about the drop off. Now Taeyong’s injured, and nearly died because of you. You’ve never felt so disgusted with yourself. “Oh.. oh no,” you hold back a sob as you approach his bed. 
Taeyong gazes up at you, no doubt able to see your stress. He even offers a small smile as you sit down gently at the edge of the bed, your stomach churning at the bloodied bandage on his shoulder. “I’m guessing I’ve looked better?” He smiles, though his eyes are tired. You blink back your tears, not even processing his humor. Your hand comes up to hover over his cheek. He gazes up at you with what looks like hope. You banish all doubts and gently cup his cheek, finger stroking his slightly bruised skin. His eyes flutter closed and he nuzzles your hand immediately. Your heart squeezes in pain and affection.
“Taeyong, I…” you swallow a heavy breath. What can you say? You’re sorry? Sorry for not protecting him? Sorry this is all your fault? Sorry, you were sent here as a spy to gather intel and you’ve been lying to his face this entire time? Guilt stabs at you ruthlessly, as you gaze down at this sweet boy meant for a softer life than this. Instead of speaking, you take clean cloth nearby and gently wipe a dirt smudge from his cheek. He watches you silently, his eyes like the starry night sky that you fight not to focus on. You spot a deep bruise on his wrist, and take another clean bandage to wrap around it. His hand is light in yours, his eyes watching you carefully. Once you’re done, you can't help but raise his hand to your lips and kiss his wrist reverently. His chest stutters in breath. Cuts on his fingers and the back of his hand catch your eye this time. You take another bandage and clean each one, kissing them too, one by one. His eyes turn soft, always soft when they’re on you.
“Does it hurt?” You ask softly when you’re done.
“Not anymore.” 
You flush, turning back to his fingers, stroking them gently with your own. ‘Remember how I used to put bandaids on you when you fell on the playground?”
He smiles and the butterflies take flight in your stomach. “Of course. You’d grumble that it’s not that bad while putting it on and looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like… like I’m the most precious thing in the world,” he says softly, “Like you love me. Like how you’re doing right now.”
You fall completely silent, the breaths halting in your chest. Wordless gazes are exchanged. Then, he reaches up with his good hand, tangles his fingers in your hair, and pulls you down to kiss him. You don’t resist and melt so fast against his lips it's almost embarrassing, but he could never make you feel embarrassed. His kiss is soft, reverent, and gentle. You sigh into his lips as he strokes your hair gently. Warmth blooms and spreads to every inch inside of you until he pulls away with soft lidded eyes. Your forehead rests on his. Both your eyes are closed with breaths mingling as you both savor the moment after so many years of waiting. Then, he kisses your forehead and your heart twists again, with guilt and love and pain and all. 
“Taeyong I…” you struggle and he notices. His newly bandaged hand comes up to stroke your cheek in comfort as he nuzzles your nose. “I’m so sorry.”
He takes it as you being sorry for his injuries, because he doesn't know. Doesn’t know you’re a traitor. “Don’t be. I was careless.”
You can’t even object and explain that he never did anything wrong. Frustration wells up inside you. “After all these years I just want to be with you.” 
It’s a careless slip, a frustrated wish voiced aloud when it was meant to be kept buried in your thoughts. But it’s too late. A light kindles in Taeyong’s eyes that replaces all the tiredness they held before. His lips lift into a beautiful smile that makes your heart flutter in all ways and you realize you are doomed. You never had a chance against him.
“Then be with me.”
...
After more bandages and kisses, you don’t want to leave Taeyong, but know he needs rest. When you let him know as much, he pouts and asks you to stay. You give him a final kiss to the forehead in response and tell him you’ll be back tomorrow. He lets you go after that. Literally. He was holding onto your wrist to prevent you from leaving. 
With your heart thumping and affection running high, you give Jungwoo a call and ask him to pick you up and drop you back at your place. You thank him profusely for doing it so late in the night. When you step through the door, you spot the secret cell phone that Yuta gave you lying on the table, and feel anger rip through your body. It was Yuta. He took your intel about the drop off and sent men there to steal or sabotage it or who knows what else. When they saw Taeyong, they couldn’t pass up the opportunity to kill the boss. It’s a miracle Taeyong even made it out alive. You grit your teeth and pick up the phone. A notification pops up with 3 missed calls from Yuta. Without another thought, you call him back. It goes straight to voicemail. You figure. It’s late in the night so you decide to leave a message. As soon as you hear the beep, you growl into the phone. “The deal’s off. I can't do it and I’m not coming back.”
You hang up and pull out your own personal phone, holding the two cells side by side in your hands. Yuta’s tracking both of them. You make up your mind to have both destroyed and dumped tomorrow.
... 
You feel much freer going to work after that voicemail for Yuta and destroying both your phones. You let Jungwoo know you need a new phone and it takes no effort for him to get you one. Besides this, it takes a few weeks for Taeyong’s shoulder to heal. He misses work the entire time and rests at home. You visit him after work each day and take your own car so as to not bother Jungwoo. Most of the evenings and nights are spent changing his bandages, talking and sharing sweet kisses.
“It's nice to be taken care of,” he comments, sitting on the edge of the bed. He has a tank top and you try not to fixate on the muscles of his arms as you remove his shoulder gauze. 
“No one’s ever taken care of you while injured?” You ask, putting some ointment on his shoulder wounds. He winces a little and you give him an apologetic look.
“Well, I live mostly by myself. And I've never been this injured before. Jungwoo does have access in case of an emergency and he needs to get me. But other than that, no one knows I live here.”
You lift his arm slightly to wrap the gauze over and around his shoulder. His eyes roam your face, watching your concentrated features. “But this giant penthouse and no one ever comes by? That’s lonely. Especially knowing you,” you smile.
He smiles back before scratching his ear. “Uh, well.. I’m not entirely alone here. Sometimes my past partners would stay here.”
“Past partners?”
“Yeah.. you know, relationships.”
“Oh,” you say. Of course he hasn’t been single, you mentally note, just look at him. The thought makes you feel strange, though. You’ve missed such a huge chunk of each other’s lives but feel like you’ve known him forever. You finish wrapping the bandage around his shoulder.
“But I'm glad you’re here and not.. them or anyone else,” he manages out. “To be honest,” he laughs, looking down at his hands, the cuts having healed long ago. “I was looking for you in those people, but never quite found you.”
Your heart melts, eyes taking in the way he’s bent forward, avoiding your own. You cup his cheeks, bending over to kiss his forehead. “I was looking for you too all these years.”
He glances up and smiles slowly. “Really?” You nod. “So, we wasted our time?”
Your thumb strokes his cheek, and you watch the way his eyes flutter. “I suppose we did.”
“Well, in that case, we’d better make up for it.” He wraps his arms around your waist and tugs you into his chest so hard you both topple backwards onto the mattress.
Surprised laughter bursts from you, hands trying to push him off as he rolls you to the side and onto the bed. “You’re injured! Stop it!” you say between laughs.
He tries to prop himself on the bed with you underneath him, eyes dancing with amusement. “I'm the kingpin of the greatest mob empire. A little shoulder wound won’t - ow!” his shoulder flinches as he puts pressure on it.
Concern floods your chest. “See, I told you.” You maneuver him to rest flat on the bed against his pillow once again. “You need to rest, oh great kingpin lord of everything.”
Unbelievably, he pouts. So you acquiesce and lean over to kiss him. He hums happily, threading his hands through your hair. When you pull back, his eyes are soft. “Can you stay tonight?” You glance at his shoulder but he tugs at your arm. “Please? I don’t get sleep anyway when you’re not here.”
You swallow, gazing at his pleading eyes. “Of course.” A smile blooms on his face before he makes room for you to lie down next to him. Your body is a mess of nerves and butterflies but once you’ve settled in his soft sheets, he immediately wraps his good arm around your waist and bends forwards to kiss your forehead.
“Goodnight Y/n,” he sighs, snuggling closer. 
“Goodnight,” you echo, feeling more comfortable than you have in a long time. 
...
The next day, you wake up feeling well rested for the first time in your life. Taeyong’s body is plastered to your back, his good arm wrapped around your waist like a vice. The sunlight filters through his window blinds, falling onto his soundly sleeping face like bars of gold, and you think, just here and now, life is perfect. You’re not sure you’ve ever said that before. 
You flip over to see him. Your heart lurches at his peacefully sleeping face. He looks like an angel. You push back his hair from his eyes and lean over to press a slow kiss to his temple.
He stirs, inhaling. “Hmm, what was that for?” he asks sleepily, eyes still closed. 
You chuckle at his sleepy smile.“Nothing. You looked cute.”
He blinks open one eye. You giggle at his messy hair. “Cute, huh? I’m the mob kingpin lord of everything and you call me cute?” he mumbles sleepily.
“Hmm, definitely the cutest king for sure.”
He chuckles, reaches his arms over his head to stretch but flinches in pain, bringing his arm back down. “Ah, still sensitive.”
Worry flashes through you. “Are you sure you wanna come in today?”
“Yeah, it's been over a week and I'm feeling much better. Besides, a mob can't run without its cute boss.” He mumbles sleepily, throwing his good arm around your waist again. You gaze at him longer, your heart fluttering. It’s a slow realization that also happens all at once somehow - you want this everyday, for as long as you imagine. It grows worse the longer you stare at him. He cracks an eye open. “What?” 
It’s impossible to hold it back now no matter how much you try. “I love you.”
He grows still, both eyes flying open as he gazes at you in slight surprise. “What?”
You run your fingers through his soft strands again, pushing them away from his eyes, your heart lurching. “I love you.” Your voice is soft, almost as if you’ll shatter him.
Taeyong stares for a moment before pulling you in to kiss you, morning breath and all, but you can’t give a care in the world. When he finally lets go, he’s grinning from ear to ear. “I love you too. So much.” You laugh in disbelief as he cups your cheek and presses his forehead to yours. “To be honest, I’ve been having trouble holding those words back since the first day you came here.” Love flares in his eyes. “I loved you even before this. I’ve loved you since childhood.”
You’re slightly surprised at the sting of tears in your eyes. “I’ve loved you since then too.” 
Taeyong cups your cheeks and presses short kisses again and again on your lips, saying I love you between each one. You chuckle, blinking back tears as you accept them. Then, he pushes aside the heavy comforter, and rolls you over so that he’s on top, kissing and gently stroking your hair, making your heart lurch over and over again. Soon, his short kisses become longer until your mouths are pushing and pulling like tides. You kiss until your lungs burn. When you pull back, gasping for breath, he presses his forehead to yours. 
“Y/n,” he mumbles reverently. Your fingers skit down his jaw to the nape of his neck. He shivers in response, hot breath fanning your lips. You pull him impossibly closer to you and he meets your lips again. His tongue slips through your lips this time and sends sparks through your stomach. It grazes your own tongue, and you sigh, letting yourself melt into him, his warmth and body heat, the unbelievable feeling of being in his arms, his fringes tickling your forehead, his breath fanning your face. You kiss until you can't take it anymore.
He whines a little as you pull away once again. You laugh breathily, watching him balance on his propped arms over you. “Isn’t your shoulder hurting like that?”
He gives you a boyish, lopsided smile. “Honestly, my shoulder has been hurting the entire time, but I don't care.” In horror, you try to rip away from him but he easily drags you back and pins you to the bed without so much as a retort. His fingers intertwine with yours and hold them against the pillow. 
“For a cute mob boss, you’re pretty strong,” you remark. He only grins and buries his head in your neck, pressing kisses down the skin. More electricity buzzes through your body. His kisses are hot and wet and you arch when he meets a pulse point. Your voice comes out shaky. “Taeyong, if you keep going, I won't be able to-“
“Me neither,” he answers. His voice is a different color than usual, one that you haven't heard before. It’s gravelly and rough. Combined with his body insistently pressing yours into the mattress and his kisses to your neck, your body turns into a mess of tingles and butterflies. 
His teeth nips your pulse point and you gasp, pressing your hips against his slightly. He picks up on this imperceptible movement and rolls his hips against yours with a low groan. You can feel him through his pants, and you arch and moan at the friction. Your hands clutch the cloth of his tank top from his back until it's bunched in your fist. He pulls back a small to observe your reaction, his pupils dilated.
His hand comes up to touch your face reverently. “Y/n, do you want to…”
“Yes, keep going, please.” You should be ashamed at how easily you beg, but you could never feel that way for him, especially with the way his pupils dilate and his breath comes out ragged.
“How far.. do you want to go?”
“Everything, I want everything from you,” you press your head to his, feeling strangely emotional. “I just want you, please.” He seems still for a moment, gorgeous dark eyes boring into yours. The uneven breaths fill the silence, as if he were savoring this moment. Then he reaches down , fingers slipping inside your pants, and pressing your clit through panties. A moan falls from your lips, your hips arching towards his touch. His dark eyes drink in every reaction. Then, he moves to suck your neck again and you’re clutching his tank top harshly as he works your clit, moaning into his ear. You have half a mind to drag his tank top half way up his chest until he gets the idea and pulls away from you. He sits up, slipping it over his head, and tosses it to the side, revealing his bare skin with tattoos littered here and there. When he falls back to you, carefully supporting his injured shoulder, you drag him in for a kiss. “You are so beautiful.”
He moans slightly into your mouth, tongues meeting again before pulling away. “I can say the same for you.” He eyes your shirt. “Can I?”
“Yes,” you manage out.
His lithe hands peel your shirt up and over your head. His eyes roam over your torso with a bated breath as you sit up a little and undo your bra. It’s a few seconds of awed silence once you lie back down before his hot mouth planting on your nipple. You arch and moan loudly, your eyes clenching shut. “Oh god.”
He strips your pants and underwear from you in one movement. His hand returns to your clit though this time, his finger slides into your core, stretching your walls. A moan tumbles from your lips as he comes up to press kisses to your face. “My love,” he calls gently as you moan again, “my Y/n.” Sparks fly behind your eyes in your pleasure. Your head presses back against the pillow and you let out a particularly loud moan. Then, he rips his hand away as well as his mouth and you’re left teetering, then coming back down the way you came, unsatisfied. You let out a whine but he sits up, panting harshly, grabbing a condom from the drawer in his nightstand and settles back between your legs. He gives you another kiss. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Your heart thrums each time you say it. Then he’s slipping inside you, stretching you until your eyes flutter closed. You’re full and you realize this is how you've always belonged, how you were always supposed to be. He thrusts slowly, lips hovering over yours or pressing all over your face, his eyes fluttering when you squeeze around him. You realize this is different from all the other partners you’ve ever been with. It feels like he fills you with life , every second he looks at you or smiles or walks into a room, he fills you with purpose.
You live for his moans, unabashed and light and airy and beautiful. It makes you lose yourself so much faster. His lithe hands clutch the bedsheets beside you, lips grazing your neck, hair tickling your face. You realize you want him all the time, near you all the time, you want this forever. You memorize everything, his touch, his scent, his features screwed up in the pleasure you give him. You’d give him anything. You memorize him until he hits a spot inside you that has your brain coming to a halt. He notices easily, lifts one of your legs to hook over his good arm, and hits it again, much more intense this time, until you're shivering and arching, your mind turning to mush. Sweet praises fall from his lips as he pushes into you. You’re perfect, you’re so beautiful, my love.
My love. 
You contract around him like a vice, burying your head in his neck, muffling the moan bordering on a scream as you come apart. He shivers as your nails dig into his back and halts his movements until your walls grant his cock mercy enough to move again. He finishes the last few thrusts until he's pressing deep inside you with a loud groan, and you vaguely think you wouldn’t mind hearing that sound forever. He collapses on top of you, panting and breathing harshly but you couldn't care less about his weight squeezing you. Your hands tiredly comb through his hair, littering kisses along his forehead while he catches his breath against your chest. Pleasure brims and hums through your body and mind as you relish the feeling of him in your arms. After a few beats, he lifts his head up just enough to kiss you. “I love you.” 
You smile, brushing back his sweaty fringes. “I love you, too.” You’re rewarded with a beautiful smile before he rests his head back on your chest. “Wait, wasn’t your shoulder hurting this entire time?” 
He makes no effort to move. “Yes, but I didn't care.” You groan and he only chuckles against your skin.  
...
You end up going a little late to work that day. Taeyong doesn’t seem to mind, though. He seems content enough to brush his teeth with you, shower, change into office clothes, grab breakfast and drive you to work in his car, even though you have your own parked in the garage. You’re guessing it's the inkling of domestic bliss that’s keeping a smile on his face and making him leisurely savor each mundane moment with you this morning. As for you, it’s something you never knew you needed. It’s easy to imagine a life like this and only this, with none of the complications. Taeyong looks over at you in the passenger seat with a smile, bright eyes, so many times during the drive to the office that you’re laughing. “What is it?”
He chuckles and shakes his head, turning back to the road again. “Nothing.” You let it go, but your heart flutters. Once you step through the lobby, the busy chatting stops and are replaced by jeers of welcome aimed at Taeyong after his week’s absence. Soon after, though, their curious eyes are trained on you. It’s obvious you came in the same car together and therefore probably from the same place since you usually drive yourself. If anyone had any suspicions before about you both, they definitely know for sure now. Once you and Taeyong enter the elevator, he pulls you close and kisses you once again. “I love you,” he smiles.
You laugh, adjusting his tie. “I love you too. Not tired of saying it?”
The way he looks at you, eyes half lidded, an amused smile across his lips as if you’re the most perfect thing in the world, makes you feel foolish for even asking. “No. And I never will be.”
Your heart flutters, biting back your smile. “Me neither.”
He grins this time and kisses your forehead. Then, he deflates a little. “I wont see you much today.” His fingers brush a lock of your hair. “But maybe by the end of the day, you can swing by my office?”
“Deal,” you agree, snaking your arms over his shoulders. “We'll go home together after?”
“Of course,” he smiles, leaning forward to kiss you one more time before the elevator doors ding open at the top floor. He grins again and pulls away. “I love you.”
You laugh. “I love you, too.” You go your separate ways. When you approach Jungwoo’s desk, he’s already smiling, face tilted and propped on his hand. 
“You’re in a good mood.” Jungwoo comments.
Your steps falter. “Ah.. I’ve uh…”
“No need to explain. Everyone saw you two come in together. The boss is practically bouncing with each step,” he smiles knowingly, turning back to his computer. “It’s good that he looks better though. Everyone was worried. Thanks for taking care of him.” He says, glancing up at you. “For all those days.”
Your cheeks burn. “How did you know-“ But Jungwoo gives you a look that makes you feel foolish for even asking. You plop down in the chair next to him, propping your bag against the desk. “Of course you know.”
“Actually, you might see more of him today. He has a client meeting at a high end club and I’m guessing he’ll take you as a date.”
“Really? Why does he need a date?”
He shrugs, crumpling up a piece of paper in his hands. “He doesn’t.” He throws it in the basket. “But he’ll ask you anyway.” He grins.
You watch him clean up his desk of unneeded and old documents. “You’re very perceptive of people aren't you?”
Jungwoo smiles. “It’s my job. I recruited you, remember? I find out things about people.” He says a matter of factly before changing the subject. “So, a newbie whose first mission is with the Boss himself. If no one was sure of your privilege, they’re sure now.”
You exhale, shrugging. “I'm pretty sure everyone is sure of it by now. I just hope I don't get attacked again.”
Jungwoo freezes then, concern flooding his eyes as he turns to face you. “I never asked, how are you feeling after that?”
You shrug. “I'm fine, I guess. I’ve dealt with worse.”
Jungwoo nods slowly. “Taeyong was angrier than I’d ever seen him. He made sure we removed that guy. But please know he was an outlier. People may not be the friendliest here but everyone’s generally happy to have you around.” He cups your hand in comfort, sincerity evident in his eyes. “I hope you always feel safe here.” He pauses to smile. “Even though we're an illegal organization.”
You wordlessly listen to Jungwoo, feeling strangely touched. Yuta never made you feel like this. “Thank you,” you say, and you mean it. 
He gives you a warm smile that makes you feel even softer. “Now come on, we have a lot of work to do today and many things to discuss.”
“Like what?”
“Like, did you sleep over at Taeyong’s last night?” He grins, leaning over in interest. You shove his arm, pulling peals of laughter from his lips. The rest of the day passes with jokes and work, with you secretly counting down the hours until you can visit Taeyong in his office. It seems as if an eternity passes until Taeyong himself is strolling onto the main floor and approaching Jungwoo’s desk. 
“Hey guys,” he greets. Jungwoo glances at him with a hint of surprise. You figure this is an unusual occurrence since Taeyong usually summons people to his office. “I was just wondering if I could borrow Y/n in my office for a second, if I’m not interrupting or anything.” Taeyong seems a bit hesitant.
Jungwoo shakes his head slowly. “You’re never interrupting anything. You're the Boss.”
Taeyong blinks. “R-Right…” he turns to you. “Is it okay with you?”
Jungwoo watches the exchange with growing interest. You try to ignore him and stand up from your seat. “Of course it is.”
“Great,” Taeyong says, before waving at Jungwoo, which you also assume to be unusual given Jungwoo’s perplexed expression “Bye, Jungwoo.”
Jungwoo waves slightly in confusion. “Bye…?” He watches until you two disappear from sight.
Taeyong curses once you’re out of earshot. The laughter you’re holding back spills from your lips. “What was that?”
He slows enough to allow you to fall in line with his walking. “I have no idea. I just.. felt weird beckoning you to my office chamber as if you’re my maid or something.” He shakes his head. “God, Jungwoo’s going to think something is wrong with me.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t,” you reply, biting back a smile. So, he feels weird about you calling him Boss and also about ordering you around. It’s strangely sweet in its own way, how a man with all the power at his hands refuses to see you as anything but his equal. 
He drags open one massive door to his office and ushers you inside. Once you’re in, he shuts the door, pulls you to his chest and kisses you. “Mmm what are these for?” You ask when his long kiss dissolves into small short sweet ones littered on your lips. 
“I just missed you all day. And missed kissing you all day.” You giggle as he turns to littering kisses over your face. Your hand wraps around his tie and tugs him to you abruptly so that he can kiss you properly on the lips. He makes a soft noise that travels like electricity through your body. The kiss turns deep once again, your hands coming up to comb through his soft hair. When you pull away, your breaths are shallow and his gaze is intense. “Believe it or not, I actually have work for us to do.”
You chuckle. “Jungwoo told me. We’re going to some high end club? 
He takes a moment to gather himself before pulling away from you. “Yes, just to visit a client we’re sorting out a contract with.” 
Your nerves twist in your stomach. You remember the last meeting with a client ended in a gunfight. Your eyes settle on his shoulder, where you can still see the bandage underneath his office shirt. “Are you sure?”
He glances at you and sees the concern in your eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ll be safe,” he smiles reassuringly. “To be honest, I still don’t know why I was targeted that day and by whom. I’ve ordered everyone to track them down, but we haven't found any clues.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “It’s probably a rival gang that somehow got our info.”
Your blood turns to ice. You haven’t even told him about what happened that day, about where you’re from and the truth about why you’re here. You can sell out Yuta right now. You can give Taeyong all the information and help him take down your former leader. But the words fail you and you realize that you can’t. You’ve spent a decade working under Yuta, longer than you’ve even known Taeyong. As much as you hate it, your loyalty to Yuta are your chains. You can’t rat him out. And worse, even if you do, what if Taeyong hates you? What if he sends you away and never wants to see you again? What if you have to return to Yuta? Return to a cold, meaningless life full of violence and crime, devoid of sunshine and sleepy smiles and slow mornings.
You swallow back any words and stay silent. You feel awful. You’re a liar. You never want to lie to Taeyong, ever. But you’re a coward and you don’t know what to do. Even if he doesn’t know now, he will find out the truth eventually and hate you then. Taeyong seems to notice your intense conflict and mistakes it for concern. He steps towards you, a soft smile finding his lips that nearly makes the terrible thoughts melt away. “I know you feel bad, but it's not your fault that I was injured,” he takes your hand gently in his. “Besides, I don't think any sniper will be able to find me at a strip club.”
Your whirling thoughts pause momentarily. “We’re going to a strip club?”
“It’s technically a gentleman’s club. It’s just a meeting with an old client. She runs the whole place and makes quite a lot of money from it. She wants us to protect her territory. A lot of members of the criminal underground frequent there and have been stepping out of line and making her workers uncomfortable. The security they have there doesn't intimidate these kinds of men enough. She wants mob protection, so these criminals will feel less inclined to do whatever they want.” 
You nod. “It’s an honorable cause. But if you’ve met her before, why am I coming?”
His eyes slide away from yours in embarrassment. “Because.. I’m uh… they like me over there,” he flushes a light pink, “I’ve gotten.. too much attention when I went alone in the past. I might as well show them that I'm taken.”
The image of women and probably men hanging over Taeyong as he talks business, flirting with him, their fingernails running down his chest, makes your insides twist in jealousy. Yes, you figure, you should be there. “Yes, you are taken.” You grip his tie and watch his eyes flare. You chuckle and mentally note his reaction. “So, this is our first date?”
He snorts. “At a strip club? No way. I'll plan a much better one than that.”
“I thought you said it’s a gentleman’s club.”
He laughs. “Come on, let’s head out. We’ll have to dress up a little.” You both stop by your apartment to pick up some fancy clothes and make up before driving over to his place to get ready. By time you change, style your hair, apply makeup and jewelry, the sun sets and the evening sky’s moonlight glows through the windows. When you walk into the living room and find Taeyong in a tuxedo, silver cuffs, and his hair neatly combed back, your heart nearly stops in your chest. He has a similar reaction when he spots you. “Wow.” He stares breathlessly for a moment before blinking back to reality. “Oh no, maybe I should go alone. This isn't a good idea.”
“What? Why?”
His eyes run over you once again. “Because you’re beautiful. Too beautiful. There's going to be too many sleazy criminals there. They’re already harassing the workers. They’re not going to leave you alone.”
“I’ll be fine. I can handle myself. Besides, do you think I’m the only one who looks good? I’m not letting you go there alone looking like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re too beautiful too,” you echo his words, watching him flush. Then, because you’re feeling playful and curious, you decide to push further. “And because you’re mine.” His eyes flare. You see him swallow imperceptibly. You don't know why it feels good to see him like this, but you want to do it some more. “They’ll keep away if they know what's good for them.”
His breath catches in his throat. He swallows again and seems to blink himself back to reality. “F…fine, then. Just tell anyone who asks that you’re with me and I'll say that I'm with you.”
“Tell them that I'm yours and you’re mine. Understood,” you grin.
“Ah… right,” he mumbles, unable to find a suitable reply. A pretty blush spreads across his cheeks as his eyes slide away from yours. It never fails to satisfy you. He pauses, then gently cups your face and brings you close to kiss you. He pulls away and gives you a warm smile. “Okay, let's go."
...
You know that gentleman’s clubs are just higher end strip clubs, but this one is so far beyond anything you've seen before. As you walk in, you’re hit with the sight of patrons dressed in black tie, waiters carrying flat dishes holding unknown colorful alcoholic drinks, curved leather booths scattered throughout the space, crystal chandeliers hanging overhead. “I can see how this owner can afford us,” you mutter. Your arm is looped through Taeyong’s as he guides you through the area and towards the back rooms. You pass by people chatting, drinking, smoking, and eventually spot the main stage. Some dancers are already there, dressed in sparkly two pieces. 
Some of the girls passing by to get to the stage notice Taeyong and smile brightly at him. Some  touch his shoulders and arms, bat their eyelashes, give cherry lipped smiles, even though you’re quite literally hanging off his arm. You suppose your presence here doesn’t spurn any of them in the slightest. Taeyong guides you into one back room that looks like a luxurious private meeting room of sorts. An older woman adorned in jewels and a shimmering gown is seated upon an expensive looking armchair with a lit cigarette between her painted nails. A few girls stand or are seated around her. They smile and greet Taeyong when he walks in but their friendly gazes turn to questioning glares when they fall on you. It seems as if the air itself stops when you walk through the door. 
“Who is she?” the older woman asks, voice raspy probably from years of cigarette smoke. 
“She’s my date,” Taeyong answers easily.
They all eye you suspiciously. “This is the first girl you’ve brought in as a date. How long has she worked for you?”
“How is that relevant?” Taeyong counters.
The woman ignores him and glares at you. “How long, girl?”
“…A few weeks.”
Murmurs start from the girls. The older lady laughs and takes a drag from her cigarette. “And you let her in this high up already, working by your side? Ever the softie you are,” she notes. Taeyong flushes slightly. “You’re not worried she’s a spy?”
Your heart jumps. Taeyong’s brows furrow. “Of course not. And I’ve known her much longer than a few weeks. We just.. were separated for a long time.”
Her eyes narrow a bit. “That’s even more dangerous.” Her lips blow a puff of smoke. “She’s not allowed in here. That’s final.” 
Taeyong growls. “Listen, Mabel, we have a contract to sign.”
“Yes, with very sensitive content. Which unauthorized people should not be allowed to listen in on.” Her eyes coldly drag down your frame. “No matter how pretty.”
Taeyong looks like he’s about to argue but you stop him with a hand to his shoulder. “It’s fine,” you say, not wanting to complicate things. “I’ll wait outside.”
He glances at you, brows knitted. “Are you sure?” 
“Yes. It’s no big deal.” You give him a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes and step out the door. You hear a muffled sentence from Mabel of she’s got you bad, huh? through the door before you’re walking into the buzzing scene before you.You decide to sit at the bar because you need to be alone. Mabel’s words have triggered you. You feel awful, guilty, and disgusted. You have to tell him the truth, even if he hates you forever. But what if he doesn't hate you? What if he understands, forgives, and then wants you to help him take down Yuta? You pause. How can you take down Yuta?  You spent a decade under him, working for him, being with him through good and bad times. You can't just turn against him completely. You feel stuck. You seem to always feel stuck these days and it’s making you miserable. 
“Why the long face?” You hear a rich voice behind you. It rips you from your internal monologue. It’s a tall man with dark hair, twinkling eyes and a colorful suit. He sticks out easily among the crowd. You notice he already has a drink in hand.
“Ah.. just a bad day.” You say a bit dismissively, looking back down at your drink, hoping he’ll get the message and disappear. He doesn’t.
He nods in understanding and slides into the stool beside yours. “I’m Johnny. You Yong’s girl? I saw you come in with him.”
“Uh.. Yes.”
He nods, taking a sip from his glass. “He’s never brought anyone with him here before.”
You eye him. “Do you work here?”
“Nope. I’m from my own..um… group.” He smiles. “I come here sometimes as a patron.” Right, you think, Taeyong did mention that members of other criminal groups hung out around here. It’s the reason why the owner needs protection in the first place. Johnny bumps you slightly with his elbow. “So, why are you so sad? Is he not treating you well?” He smiles easily. “You can come to our side, you know, and work as a spy. You have the look. A beautiful woman with eyes like yours, who wouldn’t believe every word that comes from your lips?” Johnny smiles into his glass. “Best part is Taeyong doesn’t have to know.”
He’s joking, but you know it's the way deals are made underground. The thought of taking him up on his makes bile rise in your throat. “No.. I don’t…” you blanch. 
He notices the look on your face. “Too loyal?” he nods in understanding. “It’s not for everyone.” he glances at you. “But you never know.” He raises a hand to touch your chin. Your reflexes get the better of you and you grip his wrist before he can touch you. 
“Y/n,” Taeyong’s voice cuts through the air, catching both you and Johnny in surprise. He’s fuming. Similar to the time when the man jumped you in the office, his expression is hard and unmerciful. “Is he bothering you?” His eyes slide to Johnny who releases a breathy chuckle and turns back to sipping his drink.
“I was actually just leaving.” You slide out from the seat and walk past Taeyong who gives Johnny a lingering hard glare before following you out the door.
Once you’re seated in his car, Taeyong grips the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white. “What the hell was he doing? I knew I never liked him for a reason.”
“He’s from another organization?” You ask.
“It's a smaller one. It operates at the outskirts of the city. They’re one of the… less moral organizations that others need protection from. They’re a thorn in our side but nothing we can’t handle.” He glances over at you, concern replacing his irritation. “Are you okay? You look.. sick.”
You shake your head. “It’s nothing I… just…” you exhale tiredly. “It’s nothing.”
His worried eyes scan your face. “Is it because of what Mabel said? Don’t listen to her. I trust you with everything I have.” You gaze at him, speechless. His words make you feel infinitely worse after the night you’ve had.
When you return to his apartment, you change out of your dress like you can’t wait to get it off. Then, you mindlessly set to packing up the things you’ve left at Taeyong’s place while staying over the past few days. Taeyong watches you wordlessly, still in his suit, looking as if he’s about to say something, then changes his mind. The cycle repeats until he works up the courage. “Did you…want to stay over tonight too?”
You glance at him and try not to chuckle at his puppy face. “I would, but I have to go home and take out the trash and do the dishes and .. get new clothes,” you sigh, walking over to him. “But I’ll come visit later, okay?” Your fingers take to combing through his hair, coaxing a sigh from his lips.
“What if you moved in with me?” He says it so easily, lost in the feeling of your nails against his scalp. Your fingers pause and his words hang in the air. At your silence, his eyes fly open in panic. “Is that too soon? Of course it is. Fuck, forget I said anything.”
He so visibly retracts in on himself that you’re scrambling to reassure him. “No, no, I’m just… surprised is all.” 
He sighs almost helplessly, brows pinching in frustration. “I just see you here and .. when we spend time together, I..I want it… all the time… and nothing else,” he says heavily, grasping your hand and holding it up to his chest. His dark maroon eyes are large and heartfelt. “Sometimes I wish I just had a simple life. No mobs, no criminals, no territories or fighting. Just you and me in a house, living peacefully.”
Your eyes burn, pricking with tears. “Me too,” you whisper, unable to convey just how badly you’ve dreamt of the same dream for so long. “Me too.”
His expression is almost as if he’s witnessed a small miracle. He pulls you into the tightest hug, as if he can’t hold you close enough. You breathe him and relish the weight of his head tucked against yours, the smell of his lingering cologne and the comfort of his arms. “We can talk about it later,” he mumbles into your neck. “Can you stay over tonight, please?”
You forget about packing. “Of course.”
...
The next day when you come into work, you spot Jungwoo sporting a new type of pistol that spikes your curiosity. You ask him to show you the features and end up seated, facing him with the gun in your hands. Jungwoo’s fingers slide against your own as he guides yours to the grip and the trigger. "The safety lock is actually here," Jungwoo points out, turning over the unfamiliar silver pistol in your hands before guiding your finger to the small button. You test the weight of the gun with both of Jungwoo’s hands cupping yours. "It's comfortable, isn't it?" He offers with warm eyes. "Yeah, it is,” you say incredulously. “I haven’t seen-” "Jungwoo." A serious voice cuts through the atmosphere. Both of you stiffen and spot Taeyong, arms crossed with hard eyes, taking in the scene before him. "Don't you have something to turn in for me?” Jungwoo releases your hands as if they were burning hot coals. "Yes, sorry Boss. I was just taking a break and showing Y/n my new gun." "Well, get on it.” His usual soft voice is hard. Jungwoo’s face drops. Taeyong’s eyes slide to you. “Y/n, can I see you in my office?” He doesn’t wait for you as he begins walking back. You and Jungwoo exchange bewildered glances as you stand to follow him. Once you step into his office, you notice that Taeyong doesn’t greet you. He leans over his desk, his hands gripping the wooden edges. “Did you.. need me for something?” You ask, perplexed by his demeanor. 
He straightens up, running his hand through his hair. “No,” he sighs, turning to glance at you. “You… you ah… you and Jungwoo…” he trails off, averting his eyes. He huffs. “You and Jungwoo…spend a lot of time together.”
You try not to laugh. “Yes, you assigned us to work together. On everything. Don’t you remember?” 
He only grumbles, rubbing his forehead. “Right.”
“Are you alright?” You test carefully.
“I’m fine,” he says curtly, turning his back to you once again to walk towards his desk. You wait for him to elaborate but he doesn't. 
“Well… if you are, could you apologize to Jungwoo later? It was kind of rude.” He glances at you and then exhales, plopping into this arm chair. He tries to speak but struggles, then seems to give up and glare at his tie. “Hey,” you say gently, following his path around the desk until you’re standing by his chair. “Tell me what’s wrong.” You touch his chin, then run your fingers through his hair that has his shoulders slumping with stress seeping out.
"I'm sorry,” he sighs, the hardness in his voice gone. “It’s just, the past few days.. with you finally being mine after so many years… but then stupid Johnny at the club was with you and then Jungwoo was holding your hands and… I just got jealous. It's silly, I know. You love me. There's no doubt about that." He mumbles, sighing. “I can’t help it.”
“Oh,” your brain processes his words. “You were jealous?”
"What else was I supposed to be?" He now lifts his face to look up at you directly. "I think of you in every moment, in every breath I take, even in every dream I have at night. And then I see you with Jungwoo.. or someone else.. and I get jealous of them, for being in your presence. Because sometimes, they’re the ones that have your eyes… or hands on them. Not me.”
You chuckle. “Even though I have my eyes on you ninety nine percent the rest of the time?”
“Only ninety nine percent?” he laughs, his smile finally appearing. “I want the full one hundred.” He twists his chair a little to bury his head in your stomach. “I’ll give you anything you want, Y/n. Anything in this world.”
You sigh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “I know.” He doesn’t respond and seems deflated so you try to reassure him. “I get jealous too.”
He lifts his head to look at you. "Really? I never noticed." 
“I don’t tell you.”
He suddenly sounds curious. "Jealous of whom?"
Your cheeks burn and you look away. “I don’t know. When the women were all over you at that same club the other day. When I hear you haven't been alone all these years, that you loved someone else. It.. makes me jealous.”
Taeyong’s eyes seem to kindle with light. He stands up slowly until he’s slightly towering over you. "So.. you're jealous of my attention too.” His eyes darken only slightly, but the air shifts. "Would you prefer that I give you one hundred percent as well so that I only ever pay attention to you?”
You feel flustered at your vulnerability but provide your answer without breaking eye contact. “Yes.” 
He falls silent then. The air is still around you, growing heated as you gaze at each other, wordlessly. "What would you do if they were here right now?” His voice is low, raspier than before.
You know he wouldn’t engage; has no interest in anyone else but you, but from every previous interaction with him, you know by now he’s very into you being possessive. So, you decide to indulge him and playfully growl. You lean over and kiss his pulse point. He swallows hard. “I’d wring them away from you.” 
Your words work on him. He shivers in your arms. "What else?” he asks, his voice slightly more gravelly in your ear.
You think. “I’d also push you against the nearest wall and kiss you until you’re panting, making sure they watch.”
He grows still. “Really?” You nod. It looks like it’s the right answer. He abruptly pulls away from you with a determined look on his face. "Good. I need you. Right now. Let's.. let's go to the closest wall we can find."
You laugh out loud, following along as he pulls you away from his desk. “Which wall?" He tugs you towards one end of the room, coaxing another laugh from you.
“There is no one to watch here. Should I just kiss you against a wall?”
"Yes. Yes, that's the idea," His voice turns rough once again. He pulls you to the wall nearest his desk and turns around to face you. "Show me, love." he orders, his eyes dark with his fringes falling into them. Your throat grows tight, all your previous laughter disappearing. He leans close to you again, hand wrapping around your wrist so that you can’t back away. "I want you to show me how jealous you can get. Right now." He growls lowly. You swallow thickly, and force your limbs to move. You raise your hands, his loosening from your wrist, and press against his chest. He doesn’t break eye contact as you push him against the wall. He gasps a little when he hits the surface, eyes darkening again. You press forward to kiss him harshly. He moans as he kisses you back just as aggressively. “Yes,” he breathes shakily between kisses. “You’re so good.”
Your mouths push and pull like tides as you keep up the show. “You like this? Being shown who you belong to?”
He’s gasping between kisses, all your words exciting him further. "Oh.. god yes, I do." he breathes out. "I love it.. I love knowing that I’m yours.” He lets out a small moan. "You'll make sure that no one will steal me away from you, right?"
You kiss down his neck, nipping the skin slightly, causing him to tremble in your arms. “Yes. No one can take you from me. You’re mine.” You say the words you think will affect him most and you’re right. A pretty blush settles on his cheeks and he moans softly at your kisses. 
"Yes... no one will take me away from you because you're mine, and I'm yours,” he breathes, eyes lidded.
“Yes,” you soften, littering kisses down his jaw. “You’re mine and I’m yours.” He shivers when you undo his buttons to litter more kisses along his collarbone. You subconsciously press closer to him and feel his hardness graze your thigh. “You’re this worked up? From just my words?” You ask fondly, nipping his chest. His eyes are closed, cheeks flushed, hair falling into them.
“F-From you. I’m worked up from you,” he mumbles.
It’s endearing. You comb this hair back from his face and kiss him. “Well, it would be unfair to let you go home like this.”
His eyes seem to focus on you in confusion before you press your palm against the bulge in his slacks. He shivers against you. “Y/n-“ You press until he bites his lip. Your nimble fingers unzip his pants and slide in past the hem of his boxers to grip him. He gasps, eyes flying open. “Oh god,” he moans. You keep a tight grip as you stroke him, watching his head fall back against the wall, jaw working open. You lean forward to kiss his neck.
“Good?”
“Good… so good,” he nods. You struggle to work him with the small space you have in his boxers but he moans so beautifully even with what little you do. “Y/n,” his eyes open, half lidded, shallow breaths. You pause to look at him. “I love you.”
You soften, push forward to kiss him gently, chastely, so at odds with your hand still stroking him. “I love you too, so much.” You squeeze him gently and he gasps, breaking away from your kiss and arches against the wall, moaning, and you know you have to hear more. With a final kiss to the hollow of his throat, you drop to your knees. He gazes down at you, eyes going wide, then jaw clenching, arousal seeping into his face. You grip his pants and boxers slide them down a bit along his hips until his length is free for your undivided attention. The sight of it completely hard has arousal surging through you but a brush of his hand to your cheek breaks your focus.
He’s gazing down at you softly, arousal drenched on his face but tended by loving concern. “Are you sure?”
You take his hand by your cheek and kiss it firmly, smiling up at him. “More sure than anything.” Then he hisses as you stroke him, hard in your grip. You budge closer until your lips are right by his length and gaze at him with dark eyes. “I want you to know what I do for you and nobody else.”
All softness drains from his face and his eyes grow ravenous. He gives you a nod and you take him into your mouth. His head hits the wall, body trembling a little as your mouth engulfs him. You drag back and come forward, tongue swirling against him, slowly setting a rhythm that has you humming. His breaths grow harsh and shaky quickly, his hands combing through your hair. You relish the feeling of him, the weight of him in your throat. You want to hear him moan but one glance tells you he seems to be holding back. His teeth dig into his bottom lip, eyes clenched shut in concentration, hand gripping your hair gently. You decide to pick up your pace and he curses, biting his lip hard. Your shallow sucks grow deeper and his length goes in further along your throat. He trembles and a low groan finally loosens from his lips. You yourself nearly moan at the sound and take him even deeper, until he hits the back of your throat. His eyes fly open and he attempts to pull back his hips, tugging you by your hair back a little to get you to slow down. “Y/n… I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
You ignore him, grab his hips and shove him back into your mouth. He harshly gasps out your name and it’s everything you wanted to hear. You gaze up at him, tearing yourself from his length with great self control. “I’m in control right now, aren't I?”
He shivers at your authoritative tone and surrenders. “Yes, ma’am.”
Your stomach burns at the title and you quickly set back to work, taking him deep in your mouth. This time, he moans freely, his hand back in your hair. His soft caresses of your hair become tight, his finger curling around the strands absently as his face screws up in pleasure. Soon, he’s subconsciously guiding your head in your movements as his hips push forward to meet your mouth. It makes his length go even deeper in your throat until you have to focus more not to gag. His free moans are music to your ears, his head is tilted back against the wall, eyes clenched closed. With one particular stroke, you feel him pulse in your mouth. Then, his eyes are flying open and he tugs you off of him roughly by your hair. The sensation sparks pain and pleasure through you, coaxing a noise from your lips, which he seems to notice. He pants harshly, eyes lidded, as you gaze up at him in confusion. “I’m… too close,”. He struggles to find his composure. “I .. don't want to lose myself in your mouth.”
“Where then?” You tease as he helps you stand up. His eyes darken. 
“You’ll see.” Your breath catches as he steps forward, backing you towards his desk. “I think it’s my turn to show you how possessive I get.” His lips crash into yours and it's rough, rougher than he’s ever kissed you. You gasp as his hands grip your cheeks and hair hard, pressing you insistently against him. You feel heat pool quickly in your lower abdomen. He walks you backwards, kissing you hard until your back hits the edge of his desk and he’s towering over you. His dilated umber eyes hold you captive, his hair messy, cheeks flushed, lips parted with shallow breaths. 
“Sit.” He directs you. You obey, lifting yourself on your tiptoes and then seating yourself on the wooden edge. Then, he kneels, and it’s so graceful and how he does so, but your throat goes painfully dry. He takes one of your legs in his hand and kisses your ankle, still strapped in by your formal shoe. He lifts it so it slides over his shoulder and does the same with the other. 
He gazes up at you, brows low, gaze dark and you swear you’ve never been so turned on. He grips the hem of your skirt and slides it up to reveal your thighs. He comes closer to kiss the revealed skin, never breaking eye contact with you, his gaze searing into yours. Your gut is a mess of fire and butterflies, twisting and flipping and grappling for sanity while your mind wonders where did that young shy boy that you knew all this time go? 
“Y/n,” he groans, sliding your skirt up all the way until the front is bunched around your hips. It's when his hands grip the hem of your panties does electricity strike your senses. He gazes at you as if asking for permission and you lift yourself up slightly in response.
He smirks and slides your panties down your legs, past your socks and over your heels before tossing them somewhere neither of you bother to remember. He settles back close between your legs and the image of him gazing up at you on his knees sears itself in your brain. Then, he leans forward and licks a stripe along your core that has you gasping and clutching his shoulder. He smiles and presses his hand against your stomach, hinting at you lie back against his desk. You shiver and obey and it's not even until your head hits the wood does he lick another long, broad stripe that has you arching.
“Shit,” you gasp, clutching the edge of his desk. You feel him grin between your legs before his fingers slide inside you. Your eyes clench shut, mouth falling open as the burning stretch gives away to pleasure. He pumps his fingers leisurely into you, making your toes curl in your shoes. He licks your clit at the same time, causing a long moan and a jerk for your hips. You vaguely wonder when was the last time you’ve been pleasured like this. 
He pushes his fingers deeper and curls them deep inside that has you letting out a long moan of his name. He groans at that and retracts his fingers, leaving you empty. “Look at me,” he says raspily into your skin. “I want you to look at me.” You lift your head up a small ways to see him between your legs, his dark eyes glaring at you, his nimble hands hooking around both of your thighs. Then, he slides his tongue inside his tongue inside, hot and thick. You let out a high pitched moan, hand coming down to tangle in his hair as you arch up. “Oh god,” you clench around his tongue as he goes deeper. He groans in satisfaction and you can feel it reverberate through your body. Sparks of pleasure fly in your vision. His tongue twists and moves and flicks inside you, turning your limbs and mind to jelly. Your head hits the back of his desk as you arch again and suddenly you feel his nails digging painfully into your thighs. You lift your head up to glance back down at him and he gives you a pointed gaze. Right, keep your eyes on him.
He continues his ministrations, leaving you arching and moaning and whimpering all while struggling to keep eye contact. He doesn’t let up once, not even when you accidentally tug his hair too hard, which earns a hiss and then a moan. He continues, tongue sinful sliding deep inside you before moving to wrap his lips around your clit and suck hard. That has you gasping, moaning, hand tightening in his hair as your face screws up in pleasure. He watches every single facial expression carefully while working you all the while. He slides fingers inside while suckling your clit and when he curls them once again deep inside you, you fall apart.
‘Oh god, oh god,” you moan out as you hurdle towards your end. He groans when he feels you coming, and redoubles his efforts so that you have to cover your mouth when you scream. You fall back against the mercilessly hard wood as the  purest bliss washes over you. You arch and moaning and shake around his tongue until he groans into your core, tongue lapping up everything you have to give him. He leaves you then, granting you enough mercy to come back to reality and your body with all the energy sapped out of you. 
He’s suddenly near you, bending over and pressing his body against your weary one to kiss your forehead. Hand comes to comb through your hair gently as you regain your composure.
You open his eyes to see him smiling softly down at you. “Good?” You nod breathlessly. He smiles proudly. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.” 
Your words catch in your throat as he guides you to sit up against the desk once again. He stands before you, towering, his hair even messier now thanks to you, and a slight shine to his lips where he didnt wipe you off completely. He cups your cheeks reverently and bends down to kiss you. It’s loving and passionate and you find yourself melting against him one again. His hand runs through your hair before he tangles it in a few strands in the back of your head and tugs firmly. You gasp harshly, breaking away from the kiss as your head is forced back a little. He examines you briefly before he tugs again experimentally. You moan this time, eyes fluttering and pleasure buzzing through your body. He drinks in your reaction like it's an elixir of gold. “Just as I thought,” he mumbles before gently combing through your hair again. “I can’t believe I do this to you. The effect I have on you,” he says reverently, watching your hair slip from his fingers. 
You catch your breath. “You have every effect on me.”
He gazes at you intently before leaning over and gives you another kiss. Then, he helps you off his desk until you're standing on your slightly unreliable, still shaky legs. He steadies you with his grip on your hips. He presses his lips to your temple and eyes his desk behind you. “You know… I dreamed of having you here.” His eyes are dark again, pupils blown wide, voice raspy. “Some days, it distracts me so much that I can’t do any work sitting here,” his eyes flit across the wood. “I’ve wanted it for so long.”
“For how long?” You ask. 
“Since the day you walked into this building,” he laughs, nudging your nose with his. “You were so beautiful,” he sighs, settling his forehead on yours. “And the first time we drank wine here and I almost kissed you? After that, god, those thoughts would not leave me.”
“What…” you swallow, “what thoughts?”
His eyes darken. “Of you bent over my desk, moaning and whimpering as I fuck you.” Excitement buzzes throughout your body, arousal seeping through you once again, so embarrassingly quickly after your release. Taeyong cups your jaw, his thumb resting on your lip. his stare is dark, unwavering. “What do you say, my love?”  
You swallow hard. “We should make those thoughts reality.”
His eyes darken impossibly more. “You sure?”
“Please.” His eyes darken again, growling as he kisses you hard. Then, he turns you around, pressing your stomach into the edge of the desk and drags his hands down your body. He presses and kneads your clothes breasts, his hard length pressing into your ass as he kisses down your neck. You moan and arch against him. “Bend over,” he instructs. A wave of arousal hits you hard as you do his bidding. Once you’re bent over with your forearms resting against the wood, Taeyong flips over your skirt. You hear him groan, probably at how unbelievably sopping wet you are by now, especially from having come once already. Then his hard length is sliding into you and all thoughts grind to a halt. Both your moans synchronize as he slowly thrusts into you, mumbling praises while you fight to stay sane. You are still so sensitive and the lazy drag of his length against your walls compounds your pleasure. He eventually picks up speed, sending pleasure coursing through you with each stroke. One hand tangles in your hair, and you feel him press down against your back until his lips are by  your ear. “God, I love your hair.” He gives a firm tug so your head is pulled back against his neck, coaxing a shaky moan from your lips. He groans and sinks his teeth into your neck. You gasp at the sharp pain mixed by the pleasure brought from his hips. 
“Oh,” you gasp out as his hips speed up, his hand still in your hair, his teeth by your neck. It all sends your mind spiraling. He moans into your ear, whispering praises on how good you feel, how long he's waited for you, how much he loves you. Then, his other hand comes up to grip your throat and suddenly, you’re whimpering.
“Is this okay?” He whispers lowly in your ear, his hips not faltering in their brisk pace. 
“Yes yes yes,” you manage out, relishing the pressure on your throat. You want to feel him everywhere, in any form, as much as you can while he takes you for himself. 
He chuckles. “Good girl.”  You moan and clench so hard his thrusts stutter and he gasps into your ear. “God, Y/n….You like that dont you?” You moan in response and he chuckles, resuming his thrusts. He kisses down your ear and your neck. “My good girl, my sweet girl.”
You gasp, feeling yourself clench even tighter at his praise, pulling more moans from his lips. You push your hips back to meet his thrusts and he groans.
“Say my name, Y/n,” he orders, hand slightly tightening around your throat. 
You mentally scramble to remember words. “Ah, Taeyong.”
He groans lowly, possessively, his thrusts turning rougher, making you cry out. “Say.. say you love me,” his voice is a bit softer this time but still demanding. 
“Hah.. I love you,” you manage out, fingers scratching the wood for leverage. 
He releases a harsh breath against your ear. “Again.” 
“I love you,” you gasp, eyes clenching shut at his harsh pace. 
He moans, gently kissing the side of your face that he can reach from behind you, so at odds with the rough thrusts that are making you shiver. “Again, love.”
“I love you,” you cry out. He growls as his thrusts grow faster and the grip on your throat grows tighter, pulling whimpers and incoherent mumbles from your lips. His other hand untangles from your hair and reaches down to rub your clit.
“Ah!” your yelp echoes through the office. The hand clutching your throat slides up to clamp around your mouth. 
“Careful, I may have a big office but they can still hear you from outside,” he warns, voice strained in pleasure as his lips brush your cheek. “And I wouldn’t mind all of them hearing you. But I think you’d be very embarrassed walking past them into the office after this.” 
You breathe harshly against his hand, and pressing it against your mouth to signal him to keep it there because you know you’ll definitely not be quiet. He growls, his thrusts growing harsher now that your moans won't reveal you. His fingers resume drawing circles on your clit that has your whimpers coming out muffled against his hand. Your legs are shaking again, mind numb, moaning incoherently into his hand clamped around your mouth. He lets you sink flat onto the desk when you can’t hold yourself up anymore, the coolness of the wood offering some relief to your flushed face. He fucks you until his breaths grow harsher his moans louder before he drapes himself over you. 
“You’re mine,” he growls into your ear. He hits a spot deep, deep inside you that has you careening. Combined with his words and his finger on your clit, you lose yourself into pleasure for the second time. The world washes in white as you come, gasping harshly into his hand and dragging nails down his desk, walls squeezing him mercilessly. “Y/n,” he moans, desperate, thrusting into you until he strains and stills suddenly. With another moan of your name, his warmth spills inside you. He lets out a long groan as he shakes before collapsing on top of you.
Both of you fight to catch your breath. After a few minutes, it seems to take all of Taeyong’s energy to drag himself off of you and collapse into the armchair nearby. You’re still gasping over his desk, not trusting your legs to support you if you stand. “Oh my god.”
He chuckles, hand combing through his hair. “Did I get carried away?” 
Pleasure is still thrumming across your body, through every inch of every nerve. “Please.. get carried away more often.” He laughs out loud. You push yourself off the desk and shakily stand up. 
“Come on, let's get cleaned up,” Taeyong says, tangling his fingers with yours. “I have more things for you in mind at home.” 
Your stomach flips. “Still haven’t gotten it out of your system?”
“Nope.” 
At home, he gives you so many hickeys that you have to wear a high neck shirt and a scarf when you go to work the next day. When you meet Jungwoo, he only quirks a brow.
“What?” You ask. 
“Nothing,” he smiles knowingly. “I’m guessing it's going well with the boss?” You flush under your scarf. “He apologized to me, you know. You wouldn’t happen to have something to do with that, do you?”
“Uh,” your voice comes out high pitched. “Nope no, uh.. he just feels bad.”
He smiles, eyes narrowing. “Does it have anything to do with the scarf you’re wearing in June?“
“Don’t you have work to do?” You snap. He only chuckles and turns back to his computer.
...
Several pass with this routine of work and then staying over at Taeyong’s place some days of the week. The days you do, you wake up from restful slumber with his arms around your waist, his sleepy mumbled protests when you try to leave his arms, even for the bathroom. On the weekends, you spend time making breakfast and sharing kisses and watching funny movies and cleaning his apartment. It’s domestic bliss and you wish it lasted forever.The days when you don’t stay over, you stare at the emptiness of your apartment and wonder if you should just move in with him. You would have said yes already had you not felt so guilty for lying to his face everyday. You can’t even imagine taking that step when he still doesn't know the full truth and how you’ve betrayed him. Judging from his sad expressions any time you pack up and head back to your apartment, you can tell that he wants to ask you to stay for good, to move in, but he hasn’t mentioned the idea after the first time he brought it up.
Apart from this, life is routine for a while. Soon after, however, strange things begin to happen. A few of the lower ranked members get ambushed while running some operations in the city. The following week, a shipment was stolen. A few days later, some high profile clients suddenly decide not to work with the group anymore. And, the worst of all, somebody shoots at Jungwoo on his way to work. Yesterday, Taeyong told you that someone was following his car while heading home. He managed to lose them before they discovered where he lives.
“It’s bewildering,” he said in his office, brows pinched in concern. “No one has ever attacked us like this before. We are the most powerful criminal organization in the city with the highest security. Who could suddenly have access to all our details and carry out attacks like this?”
Today, your stomach churns with dread as you drive home. You remember how shaken everyone was, including Taeyong, and you hope to god it isn’t what you’re thinking. As soon as you step into your apartment, you spot a letter on the floor by the entryway.  Someone must have slid it under the door.  Come back or we kill him. You have one week. -Y.
The note shakes slightly in your hands. You read the words over and over until they’re seared into your memory. Then you push down the overwhelming sensation of dread swelling up inside you. Your suspicions are confirmed - Yuta’s behind everything. And now he’s exploiting your weakness for Taeyong so that you’ll be forced to come back to him. You don't know how he got access to so much classified information to do as much damage as he did. He seems to be everywhere, attacking everyone at once, out of fury. You wonder if it’s because of you. Either way, it’s only a matter of time before they kill Taeyong. 
Still shaking, you crumple up the note and slam it into the trash can. You feel the sting of tears in your eyes and shut the door to your room, collapsing onto your bed. You won’t be able to sleep tonight. You make up your mind about at least one thing, though. Taeyong won’t get hurt again because of you. 
...
The next day, you don’t bother checking in with Jungwoo and drag your feet to Taeyong’s office. He stands at his desk, organizing files and smiles at you brightly when you enter the room. Then, he registers the expression on your face. “What’s wrong?” His brows furrow.
You steel yourself with a shaky breath. “I’m leaving.”
His face falls, hands dropping the files onto the desk. “What?”
And suddenly, you can’t hold back your tears. “I’m leaving. I have to leave.”
He registers your tears, realizes you’re crying for the first time in front of him, and swiftly walks over to you. His arms pull you into a hug, pressing your face into his shoulder. “Why? Why are you crying?” Concern heavily laces his voice. 
“All these attacks that are happening.. you being followed… it’s all because of me,” you manage out against his chest.
His arms tighten around you, his breath stuttering. “Y/n, what are you talking about?”
You sniff and pull back, taking in his concerned face. It’s likely the last time you’ll see it when he still has love for you, before you tell him the truth. “I was sent by another organization as a spy.” It’s like slow motion, the way his face drains of all emotion and grows hard and shaken. His arms retract away from you as if you’re poison. He steps back suddenly, far out of your proximity and your heart shatters. “I know. I’m a traitor,” you say shakily, staring at the ground so you don’t have to look at that heartbreaking face. “You have every right to be angry.” Tears fill your eyes, emotion choking your words. “But I had no chance with you. I knew even before he sent me here that I’d fall in love with you and I told him as much.” 
Taeyong makes no further movements to step close to you. His voice is cold when he speaks. “Who sent you?”
You exhale. “Yuta.” His expression hardens. He knows him. You’re not surprised. Yuta’s mob is second only to Taeyong’s in the city. “He sent me here to gain intel because he knew we were close. He…he knew you would trust me and keep me close despite being a new recruit,” you say wearily. “I told him I didn’t want to but he forced me. It…it was so hard being here, seeing you, lying to you and everyone, you have no idea.” Tears fill your eyes as you chance a glance at him. Taeyong’s face is carefully neutral but his eyes betray him. They are filled with unspeakable hurt. Your heart lurches.
“I gave him some intel about that shipment drop off at the hotel. Then, you got shot. That was because of me.” Taeyong inhales sharply, you can see in his eyes that you’ve shattered his heart further. You feel nauseous. “I didn’t know it would get you hurt. When I saw you injured and bleeding, I called it off. I told Yuta I was never coming back.” Your words stutter and tears slip from your eyes. “So, he took revenge. He’s behind all these recent attacks, all because of me. He sent a note to my apartment yesterday saying either I come back or he’ll kill you.”
Taeyong seems alarmed and then turns thinking, mind working overtime. You continue.
“So many people have already gotten hurt, even Jungwoo, because of me. It’s only a matter of time before you get injured o-or worse and I can't.. I can’t be responsible,” you gasp, wiping your eyes. “So, I have to go back. I have to never see you again.”
Taeyong’s face is unchanging, his voice still cold. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth before? Especially after you called it off with Yuta?”
You exhale. “I should have. I should have told you from the beginning. But I’ve been loyal to Yuta for a decade. After my father escaped, we joined his mob. It’s only because of his protection that the police didn’t catch my father and throw him in jail.” Understanding seeps into Taeyong’s eyes. “I couldn’t betray him. But I couldn’t betray you. I just… I was just stuck,” you bite out, clenching your fists. “And I was afraid if I told you the truth, you’d want me to leave. I was happy here for the first time, with you. I just wanted to disappear into this life, where I didn't have to think about anything else, not even the idea that you’d find out the truth and hate me,” Pain seizes your chest. “I was a coward.”
“But you want to leave now,” he notes, expression still neutral.
You blink at him. “Because you’re in danger. It doesn't matter how I feel anymore.”
He watches you for a second before the slightest hint of emotion shows on his face. “Do you love him?” He swallows, eyes pained. “Yuta?”
“No!” The word falls so quickly from your lips but his pained expression doesn’t shift. “I’m only loyal because he’s like family. Like… like you. I couldn't easily turn against him just like how I couldn’t be against you. But I never loved him,” you say evenly. “And I love you more than anything.”
Taeyong’s expression falters, softens. “If… if I allow you to stay, will you help us bring him down?” He asks carefully.
Words fail you for a moment. You thought Taeyong would yell in anger, throw you out like he did with that man. Instead, he gives you the smallest chance of penance. As of yesterday, you found happiness with Taeyong while Yuta threatens you and uses the love of your life to hurt you. It’s clear he will never see you as anything more than his weapon. And for the first time, everything feels clear. “Yes, I will.” 
Taeyong seems relieved. “Then… then stay. Help us bring him down.”
You blink at him, wide-eyed. “You trust me?”
Taeyong looks away. “I don’t know yet. But I can’t just let you go back to him. Who knows what he’ll do to you as punishment.” His hands curl into fists. “And I may not trust you completely, but I still love you. And I’m not losing you again, not after I found you after all these years.” You inhale. You never imagined that this conversation would end in any way other than with you leaving and never seeing Taeyong again. Something painfully tight in your heart loosens and suddenly, tears spill from your eyes. Taeyong reaches for you, then falters for a moment before deciding. He steps forward and pulls you into his arms. His fingers tangle in your hair and press you close to his chest. You melt against him, relishing the sound of his heartbeat as you cry freely. “Shh, it’s okay.”
“I love you,” you cry.
“I know,” he says gently, stroking your hair. He kisses your forehead. “I’m not losing you again.”
...
Over the next few days, you tell Taeyong everything you possibly know about Yuta and your old mob, including sensitive information. You hold nothing back. You know this is the time for endings. Taeyong uses every scrap of your information and turns them into orders for other members, into strategies and plans that will give an advantage, and generally puts things to work to ruthlessly take Yuta down. You are grateful that he does not tell the entire office of your treachery. It only appears as if Taeyong has received a sudden influx of highly sensitive information related to a hostile rival mob in a stroke of good luck. But as members of a criminal organization, not everyone is so naive, and they pick up on your sudden increase in visits to his office. Their warm looks suddenly turn to suspicious glares and wide kept distances. 
Jungwoo’s reaction hits you particularly hard. You’re not sure if Taeyong told him the truth about you since he’s his right hand, or if, more likely, Jungwoo found it out by himself. Either way, when you try to speak with him the first day after your revelation, he gives you the cold shoulder. You dont blame him, of course. He gave you information in confidence, which you relayed to the enemy and indirectly put him in danger. Still, your stomach sinks at his aloofness and spreads ice through your heart. You make sure to visit Taeyong’s office only from now on and relay only the necessary information, missing your friend’s twinkling eyes and warm smile the whole time.
Over the course of this work, even Taeyong keeps a distance. He doesn’t show you affection as much as he did before. When he does, it’s with a slightly guarded look in his eyes as if you’ll attack at any moment, with his kisses and touches all too fleeting. Sometimes, you feel lucky if he gives you a smile. You try to blame it on the busyness of work in taking down a rival mob, but it makes your heart crumble all the same. You know he needs time to build back trust, so you give him space. You don’t stay at his place these days and leave work before he can ask. It’s better than him telling you no or, worse, feeling pressured to offer. Whatever he feels, you want to be there for him, always, and hope that he’ll eventually make his way back to you. 
With everyone in the entire office regarding you suspiciously, work becomes a cold place. You’re also well aware that the ultimatum’s deadline is approaching, of which Yuta ordered you to come back within a week’s time or he’ll kill Taeyong. You’re sure that it will be more difficult for Yuta to target Taeyong now that the latter has all the dirt on him, has bolstered his defenses and is launching raids and attacks against Yuta, but it still makes you uneasy.
Taeyong seems to remember this too and asks you about it during one of your meetings with him. “Where did you say you found that note from Yuta?”
“My apartment.”
He blinks. “So he knows where you live?” You nod uneasily. He stiffens slightly. “Y/n, you can’t stay there.”
“I know.” You sigh. “I was thinking of secretly moving to a hotel. I’ve been packing and getting ready.”
“No!” He says bewilderedly but cuts himself off with a sigh. “With me. Stay with me.”
You stare at him. “Are you sure?” 
He gives you a level gaze. “Of course.”
You hesitate for a few moments before nodding. “Okay. I’ll bring over my things.” His face melts in relief, churning small butterflies in your stomach. Taeyong seems to want to say something else but decides against it and turns back to work. It’s enough though, for you. 
“I can take the guest room,” you offer, once you’ve unloaded your boxes and suitcases into his apartment.
“Don’t be silly.” He runs his hand through his hair. “Just use my bed, like you’ve done a million times.” You hesitate, uneasiness stirring in your gut. His dark eyes fix on you. “I don’t hate you, Y/n. You don't have to worry about making me uncomfortable.”
You still don't budge. He makes a show of plopping down on his bed and scooching to the far most end, patting the space beside him. You acquiesce with a sigh and climb in, settling into the sheets and lie down, facing away from him. You relish the familiar feeling of his mattress and his scent on the sheets, remembering the last time you were here before everything changed. “Goodnight Y/n,” Taeyong mumbles behind you.
“Goodnight,” you say into the darkness. Of course, the next day, you wake up tangled in each other's arms. You nearly hate yourself for it. He’s still sleeping and you find yourself quietly admiring his features, as you always do, when you wake up beside him. He looks so angelic and peaceful. You chance a small kiss to his forehead that you don't deserve before tearing yourself away. He catches you, though, arm wrapping around your back to press you to him as his eyelids flutter open. It's silent for a moment before he kisses you. You melt embarrassingly fast in his arms before he pulls away with a sigh. It’s silent for a few moments before you speak.
“I didn’t have a choice,” you say thickly, your heart aching. 
“I know.”
“I should've told you. I wanted to tell you.”
“I know,” he smiles, his eyes sad. “Your soft spot is your family and the people around you. And you were stuck between two. I know because it's mine too.” You sigh, blinking back the sting of tears in your eyes. He brings your hand up to kiss your palm. “I forgive you. Now, just forgive yourself.”
A few stray tears make their way down your cheeks. He wipes them gently. “Sorry. You probably prefer a girl who’s much less messy than me,” you laugh weakly.
He shushes you. “In all your rawness, ugliness and truth, that's how I want you.” His words seep into you. He gives you a final kiss to your forehead before removing himself from the bed to get ready for work. You manage to do the same.
...
This new way of life continues for several weeks more. Yuta continues his attacks on the mob but not on the same level as before since Taeyong has been counterattacking and sabotaging his operation, thanks to your help. You continue to supply as much information as you can remember, like how many members Yuta has, where they’re active, who are their allies, what documents he kept in his ever-secretive files. It helps greatly and Yuta’s attacks seem to decrease by the next month.
Everyone’s coldness towards you seems to thaw until you are accepted back as their member, all except for Jungwoo. He still doesn’t speak to you as much as before and when he does, it's curt and quipped, with cold, short words, not spending more time in your presence than necessary. It torments you. You make up your mind to have a direct conversation with Jungwoo so that he knows how sorry you are. But you also haven’t been feeling well suddenly the last few days and have not come into the office all together. Yesterday, your stomach churned as soon as you woke up and Taeyong caught you throwing up in the bathroom. He was worried and fussy and you assured him it must have been some bad fish you ate the day before. He didn’t want to leave you alone, and outright refused at first to go to work, but you assured him you’ll take some medicine and will be fine in a few hours. He left only after ten minutes of convincing and a promise that you’d call him if you were not feeling well.
As soon as he left, you finally let the dread swallow you whole. Could you be pregnant? You recounted that night in Taeyong’s office months ago when you definitely didn't use a condom. You facepalmed. If only you two hadn’t been so far gone with each other that day, you would’ve remembered. You tried to relax. Maybe it was something else. You did, in fact, eat fish the day before. One pregnancy test would have solved this question but you decided to do it later. Today, you’re determined to come into work and talk to Jungwoo. Damn your queasy stomach. He’s your only focus. Thankfully, you manage not to throw up this morning and unnecessarily worry Taeyong. Instead, you get ready and drive to work with him. As soon as you get into the office, you make your way to Jungwoo who is busy with some emails on his computer. 
“Jungwoo?” He doesn’t turn to face you, his full attention fixed on his screen. “Can we talk?” He sucks his teeth and doesn’t bother to turn around. “Look, I know I’ve-” An unpleasant nausea rises in your stomach, and suddenly you’re bolting towards the female restroom without another word. When you finally emerge back onto the main floor after emptying your guts, you spot Jungwoo staring at you from his desk, eyes narrowed suspiciously. You approach him, giving him a pathetic attempt at a smile.  “Just some bad tuna.”
“For three days in a row?” He asks. You merely stare at him in question as to how he could possibly know that. “I know you haven’t come into work the past few days,” he answers. You stare at the ground, tapping your shoe against the carpet, feeling foolish. He releases a sigh. “Does Taeyong know?” You shake your head and grumble, rubbing your forehead.
“Why not?” 
You exhale. “I… I'm still processing it myself. I'll tell him soon. I just need my head to clear.” you say wearily.
“Does anyone else know?” He asks. You shake your head. Jungwoo watches you with an unreadable expression. Then, he adjusts the chair beside him, the one that used to be yours. “Sit,” he instructs. You gaze at him with a glimmer of hope and obey. Once you do, he turns to face you, brows pinched in concern. “How are you feeling?”
“Nauseous,” you grimace, pressing your hands to your abdomen. He bites back a laugh. 
“I can guess. I meant your mind.”
You slink in your chair. “I'm scared. A mob at war is no place for a child.”
He nods. “And how do you feel about telling Taeyong?”
“Not much better. I’m sure he’ll be happy. I’m not worried about that. But for many months, I'll be… pregnant… and vulnerable.. With this war, if I fall into danger or if anybody takes me, I think he’ll destroy everything, even himself, trying to get me back.” You gaze at the carpet, deep in thought. “And I’m also afraid he’ll lock me up and never let me do anything out of fear for my safety.”
“Well, for the first one, you don't have to be pregnant for him to destroy everything to get you back,” Jungwoo says, smiling “And the second one, yeah, he would probably do that.”
You chuckle, glancing at him. “I know I have to tell him. I’m just… figuring out how to, I guess.”
“You’ll figure it out,” he reassures you. 
A few moments of silence settles between you. “I missed you,” you finally admit, watching the unguarded flinching emotion in his face before he attempts to shutter it away. You cover his hand with yours. “I’m sorry, I truly am.”
Jungwoo gazes at you then, sincerely, and whatever resistance he’s trying to put up against you fails. “I know. I'm sorry too. I'm here for you, you know?” You nearly tear up in relief. You tug him into a hug, which he reciprocates easily. Warmth spreads through your chest and to your heart that has been aching for months. Then, Jungwoo tugs himself away from you. “Careful, I don't want Boss yelling at me again.”
You laugh. “I won't let him do that. It's the reason why I got pregnant anyway,” you mumble.
He looks at you sharply “What?”
“Nothing!” You stand up suddenly. “I uh.. am late, bye.” You hear him laughing as you scurry off.
...
You join Taeyong in his office to help out on some work. Your stomach seems to settle down the rest of the day, thankfully. Your brain swims while you watch Taeyong work busily, trying to figure out how to break the news to him. Would he be happy? Of course he would. You know he wants this more than anything. You just have to work up the nerve. Maybe you can later, when you return home. The day ends and he drives you back to his place, as he’s been doing for weeks since you’ve moved in with him. “You know, it’s nice having you live with me. It feels almost as if we’re married.”
You snort. “We don’t argue enough to be married.”
He chuckles. “We’re happily married, how’s that?” He offers.
“Oh, so that’s why people specify the phrase ‘happily’ before the word ‘married’.”
“Yes,” he laughs. Once you get into his apartment and settle in, he gives you a look. “I would marry you, you know.”
Your cheeks heat up. He looks sincere. “Really?”
His eyes twinkle. “Yes.”
You gaze at him, speechless with emotion before you remember your news. “I need to tell you something.” His brows quirk as he undoes his wrist watch. Just then, the elevator dings behind you, signaling someone has gotten on from the bottom floor. Both of you freeze and turn to face the metal doors.
“That’s strange. No one has access to the elevator except Jungwoo. Did he tell you he was coming over?” Taeyong asks. You check your phone. No text messages or calls. Chills run down your spine as you stare at him and shake your head slowly. Taeyong’s eyes widen. Then, the doors ding open and you realize it’s most definitely not Jungwoo. “Y/n, get back!” Taeyong shouts.
Four or five men with guns step out of the doors and into the penthouse. It’s a surreal sight but they are all familiar. Yuta’s men. You scramble backwards away from them but one lunges to catch your sleeve and drag you off the chair towards them. You barely register Taeyong grabbing the gun from his dresser and aiming at them with a shout to let you go. The man who has you in his grip whirls you around to face Taeyong and presses a gun to your head. All the color drains from Taeyong’s face, but he doesn’t lower the gun. The man holding you captive growls behind you. “She belongs to us. We’re taking her back.” His arm  bars your neck and presses hard until you wince. “Yes, bring even traitors like you back,” he snarls into your ear.
Taeyong flinches as if to make a move but all guns suddenly train on him and he freezes once more. You merely gaze at Taeyong, trying to apologize with your eyes. His face is hard, his eyes a storm of emotions. His gun is still aimed at your captors, both hands wrapped around the handle, one finger around the trigger but you know he’s outnumbered. The gun against your temple pushes into your skin. “If you make one move, we’ll shoot her right here.”
Taeyong’s eyes flash. “Why don’t you just take me instead? Or kill me? Isn’t that what your boss wanted from the beginning?”
“Because someone would just replace you. Why do you think Yuta didn’t just send her as an assassin? We want to destroy your organization from the inside out. And she,” the gun nudges your head. “Is the key. She knows all your secrets by now. And as long as we have her, we’ll control you.” Another man speaks up. “But that doesn’t mean we won’t kill you and her if you try anything.”
“It's okay. I’ll be okay.” You reassure Taeyong as calmly as you can.
Taeyong’s eyes shine, the gun wavering in his hands before he lowers it. “I’ll get you back, I promise.”With that, the men are stepping back into the elevator, dragging you with them. Your last view is Taeyong’s distressed, anguished face before the metal doors close.
...
After a never ending van ride with your familiar kidnappers calling you a traitor and telling you to wait until Yuta gets his hands on you, you end up back at his base, sitting in a dark, empty room with a single chair and a lightbulb dangling above you. You know this room. It’s one of the rooms they used to question enemies and prisoners, although “question” is an understatement, you think, spotting the faded bloodstains on the ground. Just then, the door opens to reveal a familiar face with long red hair. “Long time no see, Boss” you hum as Yuta steps into the dim light of the room. 
He looks angry. His eyes glint as he slowly circles you. “Yes,” he gives a fake smile. “I recall the last time I saw you, when you were still loyal.” 
“Yes, that was a while ago. Many things have changed since then.” 
He snorts. “Things, huh?” He stops in front of you, peering down. “Why don’t you tell me every single piece of intel you know about that place, just like I ordered you to?”
You match his glare. “Do you need it? You seem to be managing fine against them on your own.”
Yuta grits his teeth. “Not anymore. Your boyfriend put up a good fight against us. You saw to that, I’m sure.”
“How did you manage to do that much damage in the first place?” You ask.
“I wasn’t aware this was my interrogation session.” He growls. “Besides, I don’t answer to traitors. You’re lucky you're even alive to ask questions. I could've had you killed for your treachery instead of being taken.”
You huff out a laugh. “Then you would’ve lost your precious chance to use me to take down Taeyong’s mob.” 
His eyes flare. “Right, Taeyong. The one you threw everything out for.”
“I told you when you gave me this case and I didn’t want to take this one. I told you the risk.”
“I didn't think we’d lose you so easily. After ten years, you throw that loyalty away?”
You glare at him. “Ten years is not enough for me to put my loyalty to you over him.”
He seems to falter. Then, he steels himself, eyes flashing with anger. “How long then? Twenty years?” You don’t reply. ”Fifty? One hundred?” When you still don’t respond, he throws his hands in the air. “I don’t believe this.”
“It's not personal, it's just-”
“Yes, it is personal!” He jabs a finger into your face. “I send you to do a job and you throw out everything we built together over some crush!?”
“You know by now it’s not some crush!” You bite back. The anger on his face crumbles a little into surprise. You sigh frustratedly. “You don’t understand. I didn’t have a choice. I was stuck between you and him. I couldn’t betray either of you. Do you know I didn’t rat you out right away? I didn’t tell Taeyong or anyone until you sent me that fucking note. And when I did tell them, it was because I was going to leave and come back to you. That’s when they saw me as a traitor. I was loyal and a traitor to both sides.”
Yuta falls silent for a few moments before speaking quietly. “But you didn’t come back to me. You stayed and helped him take me down. You made your decision in the end.”
“Yes, I did. But it’s because you were going to kill him. It’s not because you meant nothing to me.” 
He falls quiet again. “Tell me what you know of the Scorpion, Y/n.” You stay silent, staring at the floor. “You know this business. If you don't tell me what you know and prove to me your allegiance, you’re of no use to me.”
“What then? Are you going to torture me? Kill me?” You ask him. “Would you do that to me, Yuta?” 
He doesn’t respond. He only turns and walks out the door, speaking over his shoulder. “You have one day to make up your mind.”
....
Taeyong is losing his mind. Jungwoo has never seen him like this. He called an emergency meeting, had people come back into the office to assemble in the conference room, and proceeded to pace and ramble and stumble over his words as he tried to explain the situation. He runs his hand through his hair until it stuck up on the ends, even stopping to kick a chair over in frustration. Jungwoo still can’t believe you were taken from his apartment. He figures they must have tracked you somehow. “I want everyone to split up and come up with plans to get her back,” Taeyong orders, his voice uneven. “We already know where his base is, thanks to her. We’ll meet back here in ten minutes. Dismissed.”
The room empties out with people already mumbling ideas. Taeyong goes back to pacing, scratching the back of his head nervously before growing taut. Then, he kicks another chair over with a frustrated grunt. It’s only then does he notice Jungwoo is still in the room. “Ah,” he blinks, embarrassed, staring at the chair. “I was just… just frustrated.” 
“I know this is a dumb question, but are you okay?” Jungwoo asks.
Taeyong’s face crumbles into despair. “They just took her… right out from under me, they just came in and pointed a gun at her head and took her.”
“I know,” Jungwoo tries to sound soothing. “I’ll help in any way I can.”
Taeyong doesn’t look reassured. His brows are pinched and his lips have been twisted in a perpetual frown since he walked in here. “We have to come up with a plan.”
Jungwoo nods. “Any ideas so far?”
Taeyong chews his lip. “Maybe we can just raid his base with sheer manpower. She can figure out how to run or hide in the commotion. If she gets her hand on a weapon, she can even help us out before we get her out of there.”
Jungwoo’s stomach churns, remembering how, just today, you couldn’t get through a full conversation with him without vomiting. Worse yet, you’ve been like this for the past three days. The plan doesn’t seem like the best idea given your condition. “I don’t know about having her join the fight. We have to keep her protected at all costs.”
Taeyong looks at him inquisitively. “I mean, she can handle herself. She’s a trained soldier.”
Jungwoo realizes you never got the chance to tell Taeyong the truth. “She didn’t tell you?”
Taeyong blinks. “Tell me what?”
“She’s pregnant.”
Silence blares loudly in the room for a full minute. All emotion drains from Taeyong’s face only to be replaced with shock. “What?”
“She’s pregnant. I caught her throwing up just this morning.”
Taeyong looks dazed. “She’s pregnant..?” Jungwoo nods. Taeyong’s eyes become misty. He suddenly grips his forehead. “She told me it was bad tuna.”
Jungwoo bites back a laugh. “She told me that too.” He watches Taeyong blink back tears and take a breath, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. “Boss, listen. We can't let her fight on her own. She’s not well as it is and can barely keep her food down. On top of that, the baby…”
“The baby...” Taeyong breathes. His eyes are a million miles away. “Her and my baby… and,” His eyes grow cold, jaw clenching. “And Yuta took her.”
“Yes, he did.” Jungwoo says. “And he might kill her tonight if she doesn't give him any useful information.”
All panic is gone from Taeyong. Now he’s cold, rigid, familiar, the one that Jungwoo is used to. “We’re not going to show mercy.” Taeyong growls. “And we’ll find a way that doesn't put her.. or.. our baby.. at risk.”
Jungwoo grins. “Yes, Boss.”
...
You’re locked in a cell for the night. Not really a cell, more like one of their spare bedrooms that can be locked from the outside. It’s not too bad; it has a bed and a bucket. The bucket is particularly useful for your nausea bouts that have started up again since they locked you in here. Even if you try to escape, it will be difficult in your condition. Fatigue aches throughout your body. Your head feels light and your stomach is perpetually queasy. Being kidnapped, questioned and thrown into a cell certainly hasn’t helped. At least they gave you some semblance of a dinner, you think, eyeing the slop of food in a bowl on your table.
You can’t sleep, obviously, and opt to keep your mind busy during this insufferable silence. You try to trace how Yuta knew where Taeyong’s penthouse was in order to kidnap you. Then, it hits you. Your old cell phone that you threw out because Yuta was tracking it - you did that after you visited Taeyong’s place for the first time. Yuta must have just figured that any place you were staying at for a long stretch of time that wasn’t the office or your apartment was Taeyong’s.You wonder what Taeyong must be thinking. He was so panicked when you saw him last, understandably. You told him the location of Yuta’s base weeks ago, so he definitely knows where you are. He’s probably on his way here right now, or hopefully before tomorrow. 
You wonder if Yuta would really have you killed tomorrow if you don’t cooperate. He’s always been strict, mean, ruthless, but never entirely heartless. You find it hard to imagine him being able to execute you after spending a decade together. 
Suddenly, the sound of shouting and banging doors erupts from outside. Then, gunfire. You shoot up in bed and catch the sight of people running to and fro through the small window of your door. It looks like Taeyong came early after all. 
...
“We attack from the front main entrance in heavy numbers. Jungwoo, you lead this group. A small group will loop around the side. There should be a back entrance that will likely not be guarded because of the commotion at the front. I’ll slip in there and find her,” Taeyong instructed the team.
They follow it perfectly. As Taeyong slips through the back entrance and descends into the underground base, he hears shouting, gunfire and footsteps bounding down hallways. He quietly navigates the abandoned backrooms. He vaguely remembers you describing the layout of this place once. If he remembers correctly, the place where they hold prisoners should be…He turns the corner and finds a series of doors lining the entire hallway. Behind each one is a bedroom. All of them are empty except for one whose light is filtering through the small window of its door. Anticipation swells inside him as he dashes to the room, muttering a prayer that you be okay. 
The door is locked. He curses and peers through the window. He sees your face, alarmed and caught off guard before you register that it’s him. The sweetest relief floods him at the sight of you unharmed. You mouth something that he can't hear before you motion to the outside wall at the end of the hallway. He follows the line of sight and spots keys dangling on a wall hook. He dashes over to grab them before running back, unlocking the door and shouldering it open. You’re swallowed in a hug so quickly you can barely breathe. Taeyong’s arms are around you, squeezing you to him, tucking you under his chin, before running through your hair and cupping your cheeks. He’s mumbling questions and you realize he's checking to see if you're injured. You can feel him trembling. “Hey, hey, I’m okay,” you reassure him, holding his hands that are cupping your cheeks.
Anxiety bleeds from his face. He checks you one again, then pulls you in for another crushing hug. You can’t help but sigh and melt in his arms, grateful that he’s here. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he murmurs.
“It's not your fault.” You rub his back. Another round of gunfire erupts in the background. “We have to get out of here.”
He pulls away. “No, we’re not running. Yuta will just come after us. We’re going to defeat him here.”
Your stomach flips. “Defeat… Will you kill him?”
Taeyong’s brows furrow. “Yes. He was going to kill you wasn't he?” 
“I know… I just-” More gunfire rings out. You turn to Taeyong. “Give me a gun. I can help. I know their weaknesses and where to hide in this place.”
Emotion envelops his face. He cups your cheek softly. “Not this time.”
“Why not?”
“You… the baby…” he trails off, his eyes shining. 
“Oh,” you swallow. “Jungwoo told you.”
He releases a breath, lips curling into a small smile before he presses his forehead to yours. “Yeah, he did.”
The sounds of gunfire and shouting grow louder. “I can help, Taeyong. It can make a lot of difference out there. What if our guys run into a dead end hallway and get shot down? I can help everyone navigate this place, especially where to retreat to.” 
He pulls away from you. “No.”
Your eyes roam his face. “Please. I'll hide. What if you take more losses because you could have used me?”
“That’s a risk I'll take.”
“Taeyong…”
“Please, just for this one time, please do as I say.”
You fall silent. He’s never given you an order before. His hand slips from your cheek as he turns towards the door and the sound of gunfire. You make a last attempt. “I'll hide, I'll keep safe. I just want to help.” He shakes his head one more time, steps out of the room and closes the door, automatically locking it from the outside. You speechlessly stare at him through the small window. He gives an apologetic look before running off. You stare in disbelief and then rattle the door handle. It doesn't budge. The sound of gunfire rises and you anxiously wonder if it's because Taeyong entered their line of sight. If he gets hurt again when you could've done something about it….
You slam your palms against the door this time, desperation and anger rising inside of you. He locked you in here like another prisoner. “This is not happening,” you mumble. More gunfire rings out. Someone shouts in pain. Tears sting your eyes. There must be some way.
You look through the door window at the ground of the hallway outside and spot the keys on the floor close by. Taeyong must've dropped them as soon as he unlocked the door and ran to hug you. You kneel and find a big enough gap under the door for your palm. You stick your hand out, fingers brushing the edge of the keys. You pinch them with your fingertips and drag it through the door successfully. 
You stand up and exhale in victory, fumbling with the keys. You unlock the door from your side and make your escape. Gunfire echoes from all around you, from every floor and hallway. Most of the people you find along the way are unconscious or too injured to fight, and a few you fear may be dead. Most of them are Yuta’s men. You know almost all of them and it makes your heart ache. Then, you hear Taeyong’s shout and all blood drains to your legs. You sprint into the main hall and spot Taeyong’s familiar pistol on the floor by the door to Yuta’s office, which is open. Your stomach lurches and panic seizes your brain. You fight down the rising nausea in your stomach and run through the door. 
Taeyong is bleeding on the floor in front of you, clutching his leg while Yuta stands by his desk, the same spot where he gave you this mission all those days ago. His gun is aimed directly at Taeyong. Without thinking, you hurl yourself into his path.
“Stop!” You shout. 
“Y/n!?” Yong shouts in disbelief. “What are you doing here!? I told you to stay there!”
You glare at Yuta who’s been frozen since you first stepped in his line of sight. “If you’re going to shoot him, you’ll have to shoot me first.”
Yuta stares at you, gun still aimed. His face is hard but uncertain. “You’d give up your life just for him?” You don’t respond but your expression is all Yuta needs as an answer. Taeyong gives a protesting groan behind you. The sound of gunfire tapers off in the distance. The raid sounds like it's coming to a close. Yuta releases a breath, his gun wavering. “All I wanted to do was take down the Scorpion. You made it so, so difficult. I only retaliated.” Yuta grits his teeth.
“You harassed my people, infiltrated my organization, and tried to assassinate me. Taking her was the final slight,” Taeyong growled. “Don’t act like you are the victim.”
Yuta glowers. “Y/n, I will let you walk out of here right now if you step out of the way.”
“Walk away, huh? So what about that ultimatum you gave me when you brought me back here?” You ask him. “You were never going to kill me if I didn't give you intel because you can’t do it.”
Yuta avoids your eyes and doesn't respond. You were right; he has a soft spot for you too. “So, what’s it going to be? Will you kill us both?” you ask.
Silence fills the room. His gun is still trained on you. Then, you hear Taeyong’s voice from behind you. “She's pregnant.” 
Shock envelops Yuta’s face. His gun wobbles before he lowers it. He seems to search for confirmation in your face and finds it. He groans,  running his hand through his hair. “Fuck.”
You stare at him, perplexed. He turns around and grips the edge of his desk, head falling forward in defeat. When you realize he’s not going to shoot, you immediately kneel by Taeyong’s side and check his injuries. There's a gash below his knee but it doesn't seem terribly serious. “Y/n,” Taeyong whispers. “Grab my gun back there and shoot him while he’s distracted.” 
You freeze. “What? I can’t do that.”
Taeyong’s brows furrow. “Y/n-“
“She won’t kill me if that’s what you're whispering about," Yuta calls, sighing heavily before turning around to face you once more. “She’s too soft. Too attached.” His head falls forward. “What a fucking weakness,” he mumbles, almost to himself.
“And you?” Taeyong glares. “You won't kill me as soon as she's not in your line of sight?”
Yuta only looks on tiredly. “No. I’m not going to take a father away from his kid before it's even born.” Silence fills the room. It looks like Taeyong doesn’t know what to think. You remember how Yuta has always refused to hurt children and, if he could help it, parents. It's why he and his father gave you a chance to join this mob when your family was on the run. Similar to Taeyong, there's a softness behind the ruthlessness that sets their mobs apart from all others in the city. “Everything I built is gone,” Yuta sighs tiredly. “Most of my men are dead or injured, my base is discovered.”
You help Taeyong sit up, and tear a cloth from your shirt to wrap it around his wound. “We both did some bad damage,” Taeyong grunts as you tend to his injury. “We seriously compromised each other. Worse yet, we’re the two biggest mobs in the city and now we’re handicapped. The worse, less moral, more violent ones will try to take over.”
Yuta hisses. “The ones peddling drugs and trafficking humans. They will turn this city into a fucking warzone while vying for power.” 
Taeyong nods in agreement. His bleeding seems to have stopped. He sits up with a wince. Yuta stares glumly at the ground.
“Maybe you both can come to a truce,” You suggest, catching their attention. “I know we’re literally sitting in the aftermath of a bloodbath of a mob war but… if you have a common interest, maybe you can come to an agreement or ceasefire or….” you trail off as both men stare at you as if you’ve grown two heads. You sigh exasperatedly. “Do you want Johnny’s mob taking over? The one that's already terrorizing that club we went to and probably every other establishment in the city?”
Taeyong and Yuta exchange glances. They seem to come to a begrudging, silent understanding. Taeyong turns to you. “Ceasefire for now. We’ll… talk about this later. We have to check on our members.”
You eye Yuta in question. His eyes are narrowed and you know he’s mulling over every angle and opportunity in his head. In the end, he exhales. “Fine. Ceasefire. Go tend to your wounded.”
...
In all, a handful were injured. A few died. You find Jungwoo unharmed and give him the tightest possible hug. Once you leave the base, Taeyong gets checked over at a hospital. They don’t ask any questions, as always, since they have a general idea he’s with the mob that runs the city. You stay with him overnight until he's discharged in the morning. Both of you return to his place after that and try to recover over the next few days. Taeyong orders the office closed for a few weeks. He says that, after everything that’s happened, people need time to process the loss of life, assess the damages and heal mentally and physically. Yuta honors the ceasefire and, for a few weeks, it seems as if there is peace.
A few days after the raid, you finally register the dull anger broiling in your stomach. You find yourself keeping a slight distance from Taeyong whenever he’s nearby and you realize, for the first time, that you are angry with him. He realizes this too and finally speaks on it one evening when both of you are watching television in his bedroom. “Back in Yuta’s base, you know why I had to leave you in there, right?”
“No, I don't.” You sit up from the bed to face him. “You almost died. Maybe it all would’ve been better if I joined and we talked Yuta down sooner.” 
Taeyong frowns. “Or he would’ve hurt you. You trust in his goodness too much. I was only trying to protect you.”
“It didn't feel like protection. It felt like an easy way to guarantee your peace of mind at the cost of my free will.” You stare at him. “You cannot make decisions for me.”
“I can if you’re carrying our child.” He glares back.
You purse your lips. “I’m aware that I need to protect myself and the baby, but I wanted to protect other people too, just like you. That isn’t something you can order me not to do. You’re not the Boss in everything.” You pull away from him and slide off the bed.
“Y/n.” His expression of anger turns to pleading.
“Do you know how helpless I felt? You could have been dying and I would have been stuck behind that door. And if all of you were killed, what then? I’d just be stuck there, with no one to come get me out.” 
“But we weren't killed and you did get out. Somehow,” he says bluntly. His expression looks like a parent’s who is chastising their child for disobeying orders. The look you gave must have been so full of disappointment since he sighs and acquiesces. “I wasn't thinking much at the time. I was just afraid you’d deny my order and run into combat, which you did. I… needed to keep you somewhere safe.”
“Keep me or lock me?” You huff. “It felt so insulting to be physically locked away and not being allowed to do what I thought was best at the time in my mind because fear clouded yours. Why are your wishes more important than mine?” 
Taeyong visibly slumps against the headboard. “No. They are not more important. I was just.. selfish and scared. When they..” He falters before his voice comes out shaky. “When they came here, put a gun to your head and took you from my own place where I should've been able to keep you safe, I thought you were dead. I lost it. Every minute when I didn't know you were okay, I was losing my mind.” He releases a heavy sigh, blinking back tears. “Then when I saw you again unharmed in that cell, I was so relieved. I couldn't bear the thought of you being in danger again and I just acted on my feelings.” He swallows. “I’m sorry.”
Your heart lurches. You climb back into his bed and take him into your arms. “I didn't think of that. I’m sorry too.” He sniffs and presses himself closer. What a mess, you think. Injured twice, put in danger’s path too many times, all with a baby on the way. “This is no life for a child,” you sigh, tickling his hairs under your chin. “I wish we could get away from all this.”
His hand presses against your stomach. “Maybe we can.” You glance at him in question. “I can step down as boss. We can abandon this violent life, raise our child safely and live in peace.”
You blink, gazing down at him. “That sounds like a dream. But you said the mob was compromised and the city will suffer.”
His words come out muffled against your chest. “Maybe Yuta could take over.”
Your brain grinds to a halt. “What?” 
You pull back to look at him. He sighs, propping his head on his arm. “I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s a good idea. I can’t think straight right now. Too much has happened recently.” He glances at you. “But we originally kept other mobs in check. We kept the city stable and safe to an extent. But now, we’ve destroyed each other. Others will challenge us. If we merge into one organization, we can consolidate power and retain our standing.” He chances a look up at you. “Besides, I’m impressed with how he was so good at finding out our top secret information. He might be a boon to our team.”
You release a breath, sliding down against the headboard. “I never thought I’d hear that from you.”
He shrugs. “I didn’t know the extent of the damage we were doing to each other until we were in his base, surrounded by bodies, from both sides. Not to mention our months of attacks against each other before that.” he sighs. “People have taken it hard here. We are weakened.” He says. “And Yuta didn’t…. he kill me when he could have. I would have killed him in his position. I guess that’s something.”
You gaze at him. “So is this the truce you will offer him? Merging? And you’ll step down and make him boss?”
He winces. “I don’t know about making him boss. He can run his own unit as part of our larger organization if he chooses. But I’ll step down.” He says, smiling. “And we can live far away from the violence and never think about it again.”
“That… sounds almost too good to be true.”
He takes your hand and kisses it. “We deserve it after all these years. I want to be a father rather than a kingpin. I’d much rather be by your side raising our baby and being your h… um,” he averts his eyes and clears his throat. “Being domestic.”
Your heart melts, noticing the pink tint to his cheeks. “You do love domesticity.” You chuckle. “Who will take your place then?”
Taeyong grins. “I think someone deserves a promotion.”
...
Over the next few weeks, Taeyong notifies Yuta of the proposed plan, who begrudgingly accepts. He also tells the office about the news of the merger, earning loud protests of outrage. “We’re supposed to work alongside the people that killed us!?” One member shouts. 
Taeyong gazes around the conference room. “It’s either this or we close down. Given what’s happened, it will be extremely difficult to climb back to where we were,” he explains. “We will be vulnerable to attacks by other mobs and more people will die. If we don’t come to an agreement with Yuta, he might begin attacking us again as well. This will repeat for a while.” Grumbled murmurs echo around the room. “Also, I will be stepping down.”
That gets even louder shouts. Taeyong raises his hands signaling everyone to settle down.
“You said we’re compromised but you’re going to leave us without a leader!?” A woman protests.
“Someone will replace me, of course. Someone who is far better suited to the position than me, someone who is much more intelligent and perceptive will be a force to be reckoned with if anyone dares challenge us from now on.” Taeyong smiles, eyes fixing on one person. “Jungwoo.”
Jungwoo looks stunned. The mumbles of protests pause entirely for a few moments before they turn into cheers and hollers. Someone slaps him on the back a few times in congratulations and he blinks as if in a daze. “Me? As Boss?” 
Taeyong grins. “Do you accept?” Jungwoo blinks furiously before nodding. “Then, congratulations.” The room bursts into applause. Absolutely no one objects to his appointment. Jungwoo has always been the most intelligent and discerning, and will no doubt be a force to be reckoned with against any of the mob’s enemies. Within a few days, Taeyong officially hands over the position, his office, and the reigns to his right hand.
...
In the following weeks, Taeyong exchanges a few calls with Yuta, mostly on how to merge the organizations, and discuss grievances and conditions. They settle on some specific deal you don’t understand, but it must be adequate since Yuta agrees to merge and actually comes over to the office for a few meetings. Within a month, they officially merge and things seem to stabilize and run smoothly. Jungwoo takes to the new role quickly as well. He already knows the inner workers of the mob so he needs very little training. In turn, Taeyong is able to resign fully. Jungwoo insists on throwing a going away party, filled with some teary goodbyes, congratulations and well wishes with the pregnancy. From here, you can begin to believe things will actually get better. 
With all the new free time, Taeyong is able to help take care of you for the rest of your pregnancy. He supports you through all your woes, like making you food, holding your hair back while you’re hurling into the toilet, massaging your aching muscles. Some nights he props his chin onto your stomach, speaking to the baby with a light in his eyes. It’s the deepest peace you’ve ever felt. A month later, your morning sickness evens out and you identify the faintest change in the protrusion of your stomach. A baby bump. When you first show him, Taeyong is over the moon. He can’t keep his hands off your tummy. His eyes shine and lips are curled into a smile that stays for a week. It’s also when you chance a question at Taeyong that you meant as a suggestion, just something to think about, but it changes everything. It’s when you’re lounging in bed, one of those restful days. Sunlight pours in through the blinds and the television is low in the background. “Taeyong?” He hums in question. “Do you want to get married?”
A beat of silence passes. “...What?” You chance a glance at him. He’s absolutely shocked. Heat flares on your cheeks in embarrassment. 
“I don't know… I just thought maybe someday we can. I know we don't have to, but I just thought we’re going to be together… I mean, forever, right?” You blush. “That came out cheesy. I meant neither of us have any intention to leave, so might as well-”
He cuts you off with a kiss and pulls away before you can even process it. “Yes, yes, yes,” he litters butterfly kisses across your face and pulls you into a hug. You melt, laughing into his shoulder. “I thought you wouldn’t want to.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” You giggle. “We’re already having a whole kid together.”
“I don’t know,” he pulls back, a smile curled wide over his lips. It’s wonderful to see him happy. “I want to. I definitely want to.”
Your heart soars. “Then let’s get married.”
....
It’s short work to plan your wedding. Neither if you want it too large, but much of the office is invited to reception afterwards. It arrives in another month, your belly swelling a little bit more by then, but not noticeable under your wedding dress. The ceremony is emotional and filled with reverence. You’ll never forget the sight of your groom in his tux, shining eyes and smile, calling you his wife and him your husband, the words like magic on your tongue. The reception afterwards is a jubilant contrast, full of dancing and drinking. A few colleagues, including Jungwoo, pat you on the back in congratulations. You pass the night in a tizzy of dancing and laughing until a familiar figure enters the hall. You think it’s a stranger before you realize it’s Yuta. He spots you, eyes running over your wedding dress before giving you a smile. “Yuta?” You ask in disbelief. “I can’t believe…”
“That I'm here at your wedding? Neither can I.” He laughs a little, surveying the venue hall before focusing on you again. “Taeyong invited me.” You stare at him in surprise. He shrugs. “We are business partners and all.” He grabs a glass of champagne off of a passing waiter’s dish. “Surprisingly, it seems that your husband and I work well together.”
You bite your tongue but can’t seem to hold the words back. “How can we know that you’re not going to split and attack us again when you’ve recovered enough power?”
He blinks. “What, and repeat the same cycle that ended me up here? Don’t worry. I’m not that stupid, sweetheart.” He says, and suddenly, you’re the one who feels stupid. “You look beautiful by the way. Your father would have been proud.” Emotion grips you without warning. Yuta gives you a final smile and turns away, sipping his champagne as he disappears in the mesh of guests and dancing.
The rest of the evening passes in a blur of chatter, smiles, drinks, dancing and food. When the night ends, you and Taeyong climb into his car to the whoops and hollers of the crowd, and drive back to his place. You both would have been tipsy out of your mind and gone straight to bed, but since you can’t drink, Taeyong refuses to as well, claiming emotional support. That leaves time for other things.
“Alright, how do you want this to go down?” You ask, undoing your jewelry in front of his vanity.
Taeyong laughs, unzipping your dress when you offer your back to him. “You mean for our wedding night?” You nod as you slip off the gown and sigh at the freedom of not being weighed down by a thousand pounds of fabric. He eyes you as you undo the rest of your jewelry, your hair and underclothes. “I can think of one thing.” 
“And what’s that?” You ask, catching sight of him through the mirror. He’s leaning against the bedpost with his arms crossed, still dressed in his tux but without the jacket, looking as handsome as ever. 
"I think I'd like to be your plaything for a while.” Your brain grinds to a halt. You turn to blankly stare at him. He smirks. "What's the matter?” He reaches out to place his hands on your hips. "I promise I won't resist whatever you want to do to me.”
You swallow thickly. “You’re teasing me.”
"Oh, I'm not teasing you at all, love,” He smiles softly, his hands tightening slightly around your hips. "I'm giving myself up to you.” You blink hard. A former kingpin at the complete mercy of his wife. Just the thought of it has heat blazing through your body. His voice breaks you out of your thoughts. "Play with me, tease me, do this however you want. I’m yours,” his lips brush your jaw. “I’ll be your good boy.”
You inhale deeply as his arms wrap around your waist and press you to him. “You’ll do anything?” He hums in acknowledgement, kissing down your neck. “Alright,” you test, “kneel for me.”
He smirks, and steps away from you. He then kneels down, lowering himself until his knees hit the ground and he’s peering up at you. “You… you actually did it.” you breathe.
His eyes dance with amusement. "What, did you expect me to disobey you?” He chuckles softly, and his eyes going dark. "Or is it just seeing me on my knees that's making you lose your train of thought?”
“Uh… yes.. it's the knees.”
He grins, reaching out to caress your calf. “Now what should I do?”
“I don't know. I didn't think I'd get this far.”
He laughs. Then, he takes your hand and begins kissing your palm. “Use me, love.”
Heat flares in your stomach. You cup his cheek gently. “Would anyone have suspected the mob king lord of everything was so submissive? And obedient at that?”
He nuzzles into your hand. “I think they all know me pretty well. Besides, I’m only like this for you.”
“Hmm,” you move your hand to cup his chin and rest your thumb on his bottom lip. You do it out of curiosity, but his lips close around your thumb without hesitation. His dark eyes burn into yours as his tongue circles your thumb. You are struck with a flashback to that evening in the office, how he held you down against his desk with his gaze burning into yours and ate you within an inch of your life. Heat burns and pools through your body. You pull your hand away, tug him up to stand again and kiss him hard. He groans into your lips, arms wrapping tightly around your waist and mouth parting immediately to grant you entrance. He lets you completely dominate the kiss, your tongue sliding past his lips. His demeanor is so different from that time in his office. He’s much more vocal now, whiney even. His lips are soft and pliant, his brows knitted in slight desperation, his hands roaming over your body. You break for air and plant kisses under his jaw.
“My good boy,” you mumble. His eyes flutter closed and he releases a loud groan. You pull away to take him in. His lips are stained from your lipstick, his hair that was neatly combed before now slightly messy, his dress shirt rumpled, eyes lidded and mouth panting. “Get on the bed.” He obeys quickly. You watch as he settles against the headboard before waiting for your next order, his eyes expectant and eager to please. “Take off your vest and shirt.” He listens without complaint. He tilts his head back to undo the tie at his collar before throwing it to the floor, then unbuttons his vest and dress shirt underneath. He works with urgency, nimble fingers determinedly undoing every part of his ensemble all because you asked. 
Now free from your garments except your slip underdress, you comfortably climb onto the bed to rest beside him. His dark eyes fixate on you as the final button is undone. He tears off his dress shirt and throws it off to the side, revealing his familiar bare torso that encourages your eyes to run across his tattoos.“You’re beautiful,” you mumble before leaning over and kissing him deep. He melts immediately, hands cupping your cheeks to pull you closer. You pull away abruptly to leave hot, open mouthed kisses down his jaw and neck until he’s groaning lowly and melting into the mattress. You nip his skin with the slightest nick of your teeth as you travel down to his collarbone. It has a profound effect on him, pulling shallow breaths and moans from his lips. Your lips travel over his heart and down his chestline. His breathing turns harsh, and moans grow louder. You opt then to lick down his abdomen, leaving him shivering. 
You glance up at him. You figure your gaze must have been dark and full of lust because he looks completely wrecked and held immobile. His cheeks are flushed, lips stained red, pupils dilated. You maintain eye contact as you kiss and lick and nip down the rest of his abdomen, urging his muscles to quiver and flex the lower you go. Once you get to his pantline, he’s already straining against his slacks. You press a final kiss to the spot below his navel, earning a jump of his muscle and a low groan from him, before undoing his belt and tugging the garment completely off his legs, along with his boxers. You don't wait to press kisses to his thighs. His hard cock is so easily within reach but you choose to litter kisses along his hips, thighs, and navel instead. You tease until he’s whimpering and pressing his hips up from the mattress and towards your mouth. When you kiss the juncture of his thigh and pelvis, he gasps, tangles his fingers in your hair and moans. “Please, Y/n.” 
“Please what?”
His hazy eyes manage to focus on you. “Please stop teasing.” 
You hum, moving to suck the juncture of his pelvis while your hand not-so-accidentally grazes his balls. “You mean like this?”
He gasps harshly, fingers tightening in your hair, head tilting against his pillow. “Y-Yes, yes like that.”
“But I don’t want to stop. Not until you’re completely gone, and begging and teary for me.” You see him swallow, eyes darkening a few shades. He barely has time to find a response before you’re back to kissing, sucking, and biting his thighs until he’s panting and whining once more. After a few more minutes, you can tell that his mental cohesion is slipping. His brows are knitted, bottom lip bitten and red, eyes helpless with the slightest hint of desperate tears.
“Please, please, please Y/n,” he babbles, gasping at your tongue on his hip bone. His hands are still in your hair and you allow them to stay there so long as he isn't forcing your head towards where he needs you the most.
“Just a little longer. You said you wanted to be my plaything, didn’t you?”
He shivers at that, eyes clenching shut. His cheeks are flush much more now. “I can’t take it anymore.”
You hum as you mouth along his pelvis. “Tell me what you want.”
“You mouth,” he moans brokenly.
“You already have my mouth,” you say, pointedly ignoring the straining, leaking cock within reach.
His eyes fly open when you mouth his balls, suckling the skin. He shivers hard, eyes rolling back. He pants harshly, fighting to remember words. He trembles under you, hands shaky in your hair. “On my cock, please, please.”
“As you wish.” When your lips close around his cock finally,  his face twists into a pained grimace. You slowly stroke him with your lips, tongue swirling around his length, pulling harsher breaths and shivers from him. His eyelids flutter and are so deeply lidded they are almost closed. He seems to fight to keep them open if only to take in the sight of you between his legs. You take him up till his base, enveloping him entirely with his mouth until his cock hits the back of your throat. He arches and releases a deep groan. He twitches in your mouth, and you realize he’s already close. You take the liberty to speed up, your lips meeting the hilt each time, tongue swirling around his length. He gasps harshly for breath, back arching, hips trembling and bucking up to meet you before you hold them down with your hands. You suck him faster, making his moans grow higher in pitch until he’s suddenly seizing up, tight and still, his head pressing back into the pillows and back arched beautifully. His warmth fills your mouth and you groan, relishing it as you swallow. He’s shaking everywhere as collapses on the bed with another breathless moan. 
You continue licking him clean while he pants to catch his breath. He’s still hard in your mouth, you realize, and you can’t help continue sucking him until he’s flinching and tugging you off of him by your hair. “Ah, too much.” You relent, thinking you’re tormented him enough for one night, and press a final kiss to his hip. He pulls you up to kiss him, hands reverently cupping your cheeks, mouth and tongue moving leisurely against you. When he pulls away, he has stars in his eyes. “You’re amazing.”
You laugh. “It was that good, huh?”
He presses another kiss. “I think I almost blacked out.”
You laugh. He guides your leg over his hip to straddle him comfortably. You kiss his palm. “Y/n,” his eyes shine, cheeks still flushed. “Tell me I’m perfect.” You blink at him and he explains. “The first day you came to us, when we talked in my office, I told you I looked like a toad and you said I was perfect.” He flushes “I couldn't tell you at the time how it made me feel, but now I can.” He kisses your hand. “Tell me I’m perfect. Tell me everything.”
Your heart melts at his pleading, vulnerable eyes. You hope he knows you’ll give him everything he asks for. You give him a soft kiss. “You’re perfect,” you say, watching his eyes glow with your praise. You litter kisses across his cheeks and forehead. “You’ve always been perfect. You’re sweet and strong and kind and you’re mine. Absolutely perfect.”
He shivers and groans, hands pulling you roughly against his lips to kiss you. You melt into him, hands running through his hair, breathing in the lingering scent of his cologne. You slip off your underdress and the rest of your garments, watching his eyes darken. When you straddle him again, you’re already so wet from having him in your mouth from before. You slide him in easily up til the hilt, pleasure bursting across your eyelids while he grips your hips like a vice, lips parted and head tilted back against the pillows. This time, it’s slow and passionate, just like your first. You bend low to kiss him and barely allow a few inches of distance the entire time you ride him. You relish his groans, his fluttering eyes. Praises fall from your lips in abundance, without pause or restraint, and you watch the flush of his cheeks grow darker after each one until he's vulnerable and moaning and tucking his head into your neck, coming inside you a second time with a broken whimper. It hurls you towards your own edge, gripping and contracting around his length as you hold onto him for dear life.
When the moments passed, the vice grips on each other loosen, and both of you catch your breath. He doesn’t let you roll off him onto the mattress. Instead he holds you close, pressing one hand to your stomach, which still looks barely different than before, but his eyes shine as if the baby is already here. 
...
The rest of the pregnancy is blissful. It consists of buying baby items, picking out names, cleaning out Taeyong’s guest room and setting it up for the baby, though both of you know it will probably end up sleeping in your room with the guest room used for nothing other than storage. As the date approaches, Taeyong gets increasingly more anxious. You try to calm him and redirect his focus to baby proofing the entire penthouse, which works well. He’s adorable, nervous and tittering, worried if he’ll be a good enough father. You remind him again and again that he will be.
When the day finally comes and contractions erupt and you’re whisked away to the hospital, Taeyong is a mess. Jungwoo even visits to calm him down, which works. By the end of a long day, a baby girl is born. He’s absolutely enamored, and has her in his arms all night, rocking her gently, cooing and speaking soft words that have her falling quiet to listen. Sometimes, he remembers to tear his eyes away to give you a teary, beaming smile. It’s enough to make you the happiest person alive. Upon coming home, it takes many sleepless nights for you two to get the hang of it - the feeding, the crying, the burping. Within a few weeks, though, it’s a natural order, a timetable, a cycle. Tonight is one of those rare ones when you’ve miraculously gotten the baby to sleep a few hours longer. Taeyong and you relish the few moments of quiet and try to get some sleep.
“You’re a good mother, you know,” he mumbles sleepily in bed, arm thrown around your waist. “I’m glad she looks like you.”
His words envelop you in warmth. “I think she looks more like you, actually. Don’t you see her giant brown eyes that take up half her face?”
He chuckles and makes your heart flutter even after all this time. “My eyes are not that big.” 
You cup his cheek. “They are and they’re wonderful and I’m glad she has them.”
He cheeks warm under your palm. He pulls you close and kisses you. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
A high pitched, piercing cry rings out, startling you both before you’re groaning. “She gets that voice from you, though,” he says.
“She does not!” You complain. He gives you a pointed look at your near screech of protest. “Fine, maybe a little.”
He chuckles, stopping you from slipping out of bed. “I’ll get her, don’t worry. Get some sleep.” You sigh in thanks.He presses a kiss to your forehead before he’s slipping out the door. The piercing crying suddenly quiets down once his coos interrupt the noise and soon, the house is silent with no sound other than a baby’s whimpers and your husband’s soft words. 
In that moment you’re grateful for all the choices you’ve been able to make. 
421 notes · View notes
leclucklerc · 6 months
Text
Check Point MV1 - 01. Product of Glory
Tumblr media
Pairings: Max Verstappen x Actress!Reader
Summary: She should've realized that coming back to Formula One after quitting the sport years ago is a bad idea. Especially considering that most of your childhood friends and rivals from your karting days are now in the paddock.
Word Count: 4.2k
Previous Masterlist Next
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Weekends had always been her favorite part of the week.
Besides the fact that it's a time when there's no school, weekends had always been more special. When she was younger, weekends means that she’s going to watch her dad race. To feel the thrill of Formula One as she cheered for the man on the red car. Weekend means going to a dinner with her parents, still high from her dad win and spending the night laughing and spending time together.
When her dad decided to retire from motorsport, weekends mean another thing.
Weekend means racing.
Though this time it’s not her dad in a red car who race. This time it’s her who’s racing. It’s her who goes on top of kart and race against people her age. It’s her who got cheered on. It’s her, who will bring a smile on her dad face as he saw her with pride clear on his eyes.
Y/n loves weekends.
“Hi,” greeted the girl, smile wide and eyes crinkling. “Good race, huh?”
The blue-eyed boy furrowed his eyebrows at her while the other one, a dark haired one, let out a small smile at that. She could feel the stare that they directed towards the trophy on her hand. No doubt jealous at the number one engraved on it.
It only made her giggle, as she proudly showed it towards the two boys.
The three of them are now huddled in a corner somewhere in the karting track, adrenaline still high from the race earlier and hair still wet from all the sweat under their helmet. They still could hear the hustle and bustle from the crowd that had attended the race this weekend. The distant sound of chatters and karting engine.
It had been a tough race, a race where the three of them shoved each other on the track. Each trying to gain better position from the others. Each, trying to become the winner of the race.
Though, despite all of that, in this small corner, they felt that there’s only the three of them in this world. There is no strict parents, heavy expectations, or uncertain futures. In this little corner, there are only the three of them. The three champions with too much talent and boundless possibilities for their future.
“You’re only saying that cause you beat us,” said the dark haired one in a heavily accented English. Well, to be fair, all of them are speaking in a heavily accented English, considering y/n too mainly talked in French with her parents. "If you had lost you would've been crying right now."
"Psh, I'm not a crybaby like you guys," she laughed it off.
"I'm not a crybaby!"
Said girl grin only widened before she sat in front of the two boys. The trophy still clutched tightly as she adjusted it on her lap, not wanting to break it.
“Sore loser,” teased the girl. “You look like you want to fight me when I passed you in the last lap,” this part was directly directed towards the blue-eyed boy who had been moodily staring at her since the start.
“I did not” muttered the boy, also answering in a heavily accented English. Though, the accent is different from the previous boy and hers. He began leaning back towards the stack of wheels behind them. “I just don’t like losing.”
“Who likes losing?” asked back the dark haired one as he fiddled with his helmet on his hand. “I don’t.”
“No one,” agreed on the girl with a nod of her head. Inside of her head, she could already imagine all of the headlines and news if she ever performed badly in a race. Accusations of her being untalented to the blatant questioning if she’s her father daughter.
She can’t lose.
There is no way she can allow herself to lose.
“If we want to make it to Formula 1, we have to hate losing,” continue the girl as she sat in front of the two boys. "It's all about the mentality y'know?"
“Y/n is right,” said the dark-haired boy, nodding. “Also, my dad is not that happy if I got second place, so I really should win.”
“What Charles said,” said the girl. “Pretty sure my dad will also be disappointed if I don’t win a race.”
The other boy, Max, nodded his head sulkily. He doesn’t need to say how upset his father would be if he ever loses because both y/n and Charles knew that already.
Jos Verstappen, after all, is a terrifying figure.
While of course both Charles’s dad and y/n’s dad would be disappointed if they had a bad race, they would never throw a literal temper tantrum to them. They would console the both of them because they know, no matter how disappointed they are, the one that is the most disappointed is the children themselves. Instead of anger, they would offer them ice cream and advice. They would offer a shoulder to cry to and ears to ramble to. Max dad on the other hand-
(“Why did you lose?” asked Jos Verstappen, tone grave and eyes glaring daggers at the boy in fronf of him. He looks terrifying. Like a giant ready to stomp on those under him.
Max trembled, not daring to stare at the older man. “I-“ he started. “I-“ he desperately tried to get the words out. To force his throat to talk and explain and yet, no matter how much he tried, he just cant. As if, his body is refusing to even defy the man in front of him.
Y/n watched, heart trembling as she hid behind a building near them. Too scared to help and yet, at the same time she desperately wants to help her best friend.
But her feet just won’t move. Rooted on her spot as she silently watches the conftoration unfolds.
Coward.)
He’s terrifying. From the way he would yell at Max or the glare that he would throw to everyone in the room. From his large stature to the way he never looked that happy to see Max hanging out with y/n or Charles.
The three of them had basically grow up together with racing. Y/n doesn’t even remember when was the first time was the three of them had ended up in the same race, all she knows, one way or another, they had been racing against each other for the longest time.
It has always been the three of them on the podium. The three of them against the world. Sometimes y/n wins, sometimes Max wins, sometimes Charles wins. Her father had once said that the three of them is taking turn for the first place.
Before she knew it, she had become close with her two rivals.
(A lot of time, y/n would feel a bit guilty if she won first place. Because she knew what would happen to Max. She knew that his dad doesn’t like to see him in second place.
Though alas, the drug called winning is an addicting one. Moreso when you’re not mature enough to realize the consequences of your actions. Moreso, when you still watched the world through a rose-tinted glass.)
They’re her closest friends. The very first people that she talked to and confide to. It’s them against the world. It’s their dream against everything in the world.
Even though they live in three different countries – Max in the Netherlands, Charles in Monaco, and y/n in France – she felt as if they’re always with each other. Maybe it’s the frequent phone calls or maybe it’s the holidays that their family often arranged together.
No matter what it is, she can always say confidently that both max and Charles is her best friends. 
“Do you think we’re going to make it to formula one?” asked Max after a while, a thoughtful frown tugging his lips down. The silence between the three of them had been a bit unusual, though it’s not an uncomfortable one.
Both Charles and y/n exchanged a glance. “What? Are you doubting yourself?” said y/n, raising her eyebrows.
Max shook his head. “No, I’m doubting the both of you.”
Y/n and Charles hit his arm playfully. 
“Rude,” huffed out y/n. “As if you’re going to enter Formula One before me.”
“You will never enter Formula One if you still have that kind of sloppy overtake- ouch! Stop hitting me!” complained Max as the girl continue to hit his shoulder playfully.
The girl rolled her eyes. “That’s what you get for doubting my skill.”
"I won't be doubting your skill if you can actually kart properly-"
"You're so mean!"
Immediately after that, a laugh rang out. Both y/n and Max turned their head towards Charles who was laughing at them. Oddly, the both of them too started to laugh soon. The previously tense atmosphere from the earlier conversation gone as they enjoyed the moment together.
Truly, they looked like children their age here. Not someone who has a too heavy expectations and fame that’s threatening to consume her. Not someone with uncertain future and the desperation to show the world his talent. Not someone, with a father who doesn’t know to be a dad.
In this moment, the three of them are just children playing around. Something that they hardly did with all of the burdens that they have to bear despite their young age.
After a while, the laughter ceased, and the atmosphere had lightened up considerably. They looked relaxed, as they shared smiles with each other.
“We’re going to formula one, obviously,” said Charles, grinning. “We’re so good at karting!”
The way he said it was full of conviction without a hint of doubt. It made Max and y/n believed in him. As if, the case of them being a formula one driver is not a matter of if, but a when. That it’s only a matter of time before all three of them would drive for the top teams in Formula One.
It made her believe an almost impossible possibility.
Of her, still racing with her friends. Of her, making her dad proud with it. Of her, still sharing the camera with her mother.
A future with endless possibilities that she looked forward to.
“For sure,” grinned y/n. “We’ll make it to Formula one and we’ll race in Monaco!”
“Yeah!”
Though, back then, the three of them doesn’t know that yes. That dream will only stay as a simple childish dream.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Y/n l/n is many things.
She’s one of the most famous celebrities in Hollywood, the highest paid actress for the last few years. She has won Oscars, many times. Emmys, also many times, and other acting awards that could possibly exist in the planet. She's a fashion icon, an ambassador of many fashion houses and jewelries. She's a charming woman, someone that can get everybody's attention by just entering the room.
Y/n l/n is the talk of the town now.
Well, it’s not like that she’s not the talk of the town before. As one of most recognizable celebrity on earth, it’s normal for people to gossips and talked about her. Every now and then, her name would sit at the top of the trending topic. So, being the talk of the town is not something new to her. Now though, the reason why she’s even mentioned so much lately is the now viral video of her in her Jimmy Kimmel interview.
Y/N L/N ALMOST BECOMES A FORMULA ONE DRIVER? 
2,5 million views. Posted 1d ago.
She whistled at the number.
“It really is a good promotion,” said Andrew, her manager as he scrolled past his iPad. “We can cut the marketing budget for Product of Glory a bit,” he continued., sounding a bit pleased at that. “The producer is really thankful for that.”
The two of them is sitting on y/n’s living room, monitoring the public response from her appearance in Jimmy Kimmel. Besides Andrew, she could also see her private assistant walking around the house, no doubt doing an errand that she had asked beforehand. Though besides that, the mansion is quiet.
“Pay me more then,” laughed the female as she looked up from her phone. “I revealed my dark past for everyone to enjoy after all.”
“Well, I thank you for revealing your dark past or whatever," muttered the male, not even looking up from his iPad. "It will bring a lot of buzz to the movie considering well-“
“Considering it’s a movie about my parents?” asked y/n, raising her eyebrow.
“Well yeah,” agreed the man. "And it's also about Formula One, so it's related."
In hindsight, y/n really do think that there is no way her newest movie – Product of Glory – will be a failure. After all, it’s a high budgeted movie with star studded cast and an experienced director. The reason why she’s even taking the role was because it has an amazing script, something that will bring some kind of Oscar buzz surely.
Besides that, the movie is about Formula One. Mainly, the love story between a Formula One legend and Hollywood icon back in the 80’s and 90’s. The turbulence romance between a high-profile athlete and a high-profile actress. Both were at the top of their respective fields, making their relationship basically the power couple of the entertainment and the sport industry.
Before David and Victoria Beckham were even a thing, Reynold and Nicole l/n were the couple. The wet dream of every tabloid back in the day. With that kind of history, it has enough noise to make people anticipates the movie.
And then, the main actress of the movie and the daughter of Nicole l/n went into the Jimmy Kimmel show and shocked the world. 
It didn’t take a lot of time for people to verify that information and confirm that yes, y/n l/n is telling the truth and yes, y/n l/n got a really successful karting career back then. So successful that she was part of the Ferrari driver’s academy back in the day. So successful that she actually raced with so many famous names. Names that is now currently racing at the pinnacle of motorsport.
Without her now viral clip, many had put high expectation for the movie. Now, after revealing her almost career choice, people practically salivate at the thought of watching the movie.
“Is this good for my image?” she asked, finger thumbing around the video and yet she didn’t click on it. Should she watch it?
Truthfully, revealing her karting past is not something that she had planned before. The Jimmy Fallon team didn't even told her that it's a topic that they will brought up during the interview. Imagine her shock when said host brought out a photo from her karting days.
Memories of that time had resurfaced almost immediately. Things that she wants to bury and forget.
It had made her nervous, heels clicking on the carpeted floor as she tried to think on what she should do. Her exit from the world of motorsport had been really abrupt after all. There are so many things left unsaid, so many things that she should've brought closure to.
And yet she didn't.
So she had retell the tale of her karting journey. Of how she had decided that acting is more of her thing compared to racing. That in the end, her heart lies on playing a character in front of a camera. Like a mindless puppet.
“An amazing one,” said Andrew. “People really like the contrast of being an actress and a racing driver,” continue the man. “And Formula One is really popular right now, almost rivaling soccer, so it’s a huge boost for your image.”
“My dad will love it,” said y/n, letting out a dry chuckle. “I swear he’s a bit bitter when I chose acting years ago.”
Andrew raised an eyebrow. “The great Reynold l/n being bitter? Hard to imagine,” said the man. “He always seems friendly and easygoing.”
“It’s cause you know him after he retired from his racing career,” answered the female. “Mom likes to say that dad used to be a huge asshole when he was still active. Well, an asshole that she really likes so she just thought it was hot.”
The male let out laugh at that, amused. “Anyway, because of the interview, people are expecting you to be in the Miami GP this year,” he said. “A lot of people had thought that you were attending last year.”
“I was filming in Switzerland,” answered the female in order to defend herself. Truthfully, it’s not a good defense, considering the filming is not something mandatory. Y/n was just searching for a reason to skip Miami GP last year. She knows it and Andrew too knows it.
“Right,” said Andrew, not sounding convinced the slightest. “Mercedes and Red Bull had actually asked you to join them as a guest,” he continue as he showed her an email that he had received from both teams. “They seem pretty enthusiastic about that.”
Mercedes and Red Bull.
Bad idea.
Y/n sighed, “I’m attending with my dad, so it’s obvious that I’m going to go to the Ferrari garage.” Well, it’s not like Ferrari is a better option. But at least she will have a shield there, namely her dad.
Andrew hummed. “Well, I just thought that you maybe want to avoid both Red Bull and Ferrari garage.”
And isn’t that another can of worms that she has to open?
Tapping her feet – a nervous tick of hers – she let her mind wander to all the possibilities that she could encounter during the Grand Prix. She knows that attending a race is a bad idea. A really bad one considering she knows almost everyone on the grid. 
It’s a bad idea and y/n knows it.
She really really knows it.
An image of a blond- and dark-haired boy appeared inside of her head. Of them racing together, of them spending their holidays together. Of them, laughing and enjoying each other company.
“Ugh,” groaned the female. “I don’t fucking know, okay?”
“Well, you better think about it,” said Andrew, closing his iPad as he stared at her. “Because the Miami GP is happening soon, and I really need to confirm your attendance to the teams.”
Y/n gave him a thumbs up, mulling about her decision.
Tumblr media
Maybe y/n had regretted her decision to choose acting over racing, once upon a time. 
But that was during a hard time of her life, during the weird period where she’s oftentimes considered too old for a child role but too young for an adult role. It was during the time where the phrase nepo-baby were stuck into her like a parasite, sucking her life force more and more as she continues to live in the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles with rows and rows of failed auditions behind her. 
Her mother had told her once that you will be happy if you excel at your job. That you will find happiness only when you managed to find success at the thing that you do.
She agrees on that, considering that she had never looked back on racing the moment she won her first Oscar as a lead actress at the tender age of 18.
Now, seven years after that, y/n never even thought about formula one besides when she’s watching the race with her father.
“So close-!” Exclaimed her father as he leaned forward, eyes trained towards the heated race between Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc. “Ah, he really needs to brake here or-!”
Y/n almost winced as she watched how the Red bull and Ferrari almost crashed with each other. 
“Dad,” she called out, reaching towards the older man who will certainly fall from the sofa with how he leaned forward. “Relax dad, you’ll fall at this rate,” said the female as she tugged the man back.
Her dad let out a huff. “Seriously!” he let out. “Ferrari really need to get the world champion this year! Charles is leading the driver championship but they’re only at the second place in the constructor and Mattia really need to get their shittogether at this point!”
“I know, I know,” she said. “You can tell Mattia directly during the Miami GP, no?”
“Obviously I will.”
The female let out an amused snort at that.
Formula One had been going into a new direction as of late, something that her father had been really excited about. Last year, during the 2021 season, Max Verstappen managed to place first in the World’s Driver Championship. Ending Lewis Hamilton seven consecutive title. While Mercedes managed to still win the Constructor Championship, y/n really can’t help but thought that this was the beginning of a new era in the sport. 
When last year Miami GP had come around, her father had practically jumped around in excitement. Y/n gets it though, after moving to LA after his retirement in order to fully support his wife career and help raising y/n, the man had never really had many chances to go back to his racing roots.
That’s why every time a new Formula One season came around; her father would always make sure that he’ll watch almost every race.
The current grid of Formula One is a bit different, in her humble opinion. After all, there is so much young and talented drivers racing right now.
From Red Bull’s newest golden boy to Ferrari’s ‘Il Predestinato’.
Her father had thought that the nickname was fitting for the Monegasque, had praised Ferrari’s decision to put him in the team with Sebastian Vettel back in 2019. He had praised when Max debuted in Toro Rosso back in 2015, just one year after his admittance to Red Bull Junior Program and y/n’s retirement from the world of racing.
He had praised them more considering that both had also been her childhood best friends.
Had been.
“Max and Charles were asking for you,” said the man as they watched Charles’s red Ferrari won the Australian Grand Prix. Y/n really can’t help the proud feeling that’s settling inside of her chest. Something similar to what she had felt almost one year ago as she watched the race in Abu Dhabi. “Back in Bahrain.”
“Well,” started the female. “It’s not like I never talked to them anymore.”
“Max said you replied to his messages once a week,” continue the man. “And you always refused their holiday invitations every off season or summer break.”
“Well,” started the female again, readying to defend herself. “I just think it’s a bit awkward, I don’t even know their friends.”
“How about that time when they visited me here? Why did you leave as soon as they arrived?” proved her father further, referring to last year when both Max and Charles had visited him just before Miami GP.
“Back then I was-“ Though, she came short. “Uh- I really don’t have anything to say about that.”
She remembered all the countless invitations and messages that was left on read. All of the missed calls, or even the dry group chat that they had between the three of them.
It’s a bit painful to look at. To see what their relationship had become. To see, the relationship crumbled and destroyed under her hand.
Because that’s the truth, isn’t it? She really doesn’t have any reason to ignore her childhood friends one-sidedly for years.
Her father stared at her. “You know, it’s not fair to you, and to the both of them,” continue the man as he turned his attention back on the television. “I think the last time you met either of them was back in 2018, when Charles was about to debut in Formula One.”
She really doesn’t have any excuse for that.
After all, the three of them had been inseparable since their karting days. With how often they had raced against each other, it’s only normal for them to eventually bond and make friends with each other. Charles or Max had once said that there’s no way both would even be friends if there’s no y/n to be the middleman amidst their fierce rivalry.
They had spent summers and holidays together, their parents knew each other, they had supported each other racing career.
Regarding their fallout, y/n likes to think that it’s only normal for childhood friends to not become friends with each other over the years. That it’s normal for them to find better friends or better environments compared to their restricted childhood.
Though, y/n is also painfully aware that their fallout was not because of that.
They’re still each other closest confidants. They’re still each other biggest supporters. They’re still each other best friends.
The reason why they became like this, was because, y/n decided to back away.
Maybe it was regret or maybe it was the guilt that’s eating her away. Maybe it’s because what happened back in 2014 in Monaco or maybe it’s because what happened in the 2015 Australian Grand Prix. There are a lot of things that she must unpack regarding her past in Formula One and instead to do all of that, she decided to run away.
A bit embarrassing, but that’s what she did best. Always running away. Always, avoiding her problems one way or another.
Max used to call her out about that. This ugly habit of hers that absolutely refuses conflict and choose the easiest way out. 
“Are you going to attend this year GP?” asked her father after a few minutes of silence. “I know you had mentioned that you’re going to attend it, but are you sure?”
“I want to talk to you about that actually,” said the girl. “Because well, I know you will watch from Ferrari and I actually got invited to both Mercedes and Red Bull, but like you know how I will always try to avoid Ferrari and Red Bull-“
“Breath, darling,” said her dad, stopping her rant. “Breath.”
She took a deep breath. “I know,” said the woman. “I was panicking. A bit.”
Her father hummed at that; amusement clear on his face. “Well, I must say, that I’m glad that the time finally came.”
“What time?”
“For you to talk to Max and Charles again,” replied the older man. “I’m a bit tired to become the messenger bird for the three of you again.”
“Funny,” she lets out. “It’s going to be so awkward when it’s been years since is stared avoiding them.”
“Completely your fault.”
“I know.”
Silence fell between the two of them. On the television, the post-race interview began playing. Charles’s face appeared first as he began narrating today’s race and singing praises to the car this weekend.
“Do you think we can be friends again?” asked y/n finally in a small voice.
His dad turned towards her. “Darling, I don’t think the three of you ever stopped being friends.”
Tumblr media
It’s the 2022 Miami Grand Prix.
It’s the 2022 Miami Grand Prix and y/n l/n is staring at Max Verstappen who also seemed shocked at her presence.
“Uh-“ she started. “Hi?”
Tumblr media
taglist!
@mynameisangeloflife @dl-yum @hockeyboysarehot @stopeatread @cha-hot @ironmaiden1313 @unlikelythingbasement @sofs16
Tumblr media
599 notes · View notes
imagineimagineimagine · 6 months
Text
Of Six People, Three Must Pay A Price (Jingliu x reader)
"There used to be a statue of you here..." Jingliu noted silently as she gracefully walked through the bustling market street.
Even while wearing a heavy blindfold, Jingliu moved with complete confidence and grace; never once stumbling or colliding with another person.
Returning to The Xianzhou Luofu after all this time was bring back many forgotten memories for the old forgotten Sword Champion. While many were just mere flashes to days gone by, a small handful were memories so clear, (so precious), that for a moment she could almost forgot where she was; and what she had done.
No matter which type of memories they were however, all the of them included you.
'The Shield Of The Alliance'
Many centuries ago, everyone in the Alliance knew about the (man/woman) who held that title. But to her, you would always simply be (Your/Name); the childhood friend she had grown up, and the (man/woman) she had fallen in love with.
Once when you were both still children, Jingliu wondered why you decided against learning how to wield a weapon like she and the other trainees were doing. And even while wrestling with madness that Mara-sickness brought, Jingliu could still remember the answer that you gave her that day.
"Honestly? It's cause I think there more than enough people on this ship who are learning how to fight. But to really give people hope again, what everyone really needs right now is a protector. A...shield that will keep them safe."
Naturally there were people who mocked you for that. Afterall, how where you supposed to fight the abominations of Plague Author with just a shield?
But no matter what they said you always stood tall. While the others were busy fighting, you were the one who made sure that they would all get back home alive.
And no one dared to mock you again after you had managed to singlehandedly holdoff an attack from the Reignbow Arbiter.
Most people if they heard that story would have called you a liar. But thousands of ships had born witness to that awe-inspiring moment, and thousands more were saved because of your actions.
You and Jingliu fought side by side for hundreds of lifetimes. And the things the two of you did became the stuff of legend.
But now, her beloved was forgotten by the world. Hidden away from everyone as though they were some shameful secret from Luofu's past. (And all because of your connection to her.)
Your place among the honored dead was another thing that she had robbed you of.
When the Mara inside her body became too much for her to bear, Jingliu went on a rampage. She massacred the Cloud Knights under her command and everyone else in sight. There was a reason why she was known as the Sword Champion. Her skills with the blade were unparalleled, and anyone sent to stop her would've died a fool's death.
And so, the task was left to the only people who did stand a chance; (Your/Name) and Jing Yuan.
For hours the three of you fought, and you and Jing Yuan did everything you could to take Jingliu down without killing her. But when (Your/Name) hesitated for just a single moment, it was more than enough time for Jingliu to strike.
With expert precision, her blade tore through your chest and came out your back. And it was only the spray of your blood landing on her face that gave Jingliu a moment of clarity; as she awoke to the horror of what she had done.
As she stood frozen, you used the last of your strength to wrap your arms around Jingliu, and then she heard you tell to Jing Yuan to finish it.
Look over your shoulder, she saw the pained expression on her student's face before it was replaced with grim determination. And with the Thunder Lord having been summoned, the world became a sea of thunder.
Jingliu closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around you as the end approached. She knew she didn't deserve forgiveness for all the lives she had taken, nor did she deserve the comfort of your embrace.
But when you tightened your hold on her, and said one last "I love you", Jingliu closed her eyes and whispered it back.
That day should have been the end for the two of you, but purely by accident, you saved her one last time.
A life time of being a protector had engrained it into your body to protect others first. Entirely unconsciously, you shifted slightly so that your back was turned towards the on-coming attack. You bore the full brunt of the attack's power, while Jingliu, (though battered and broken), survived.
For centuries there on, Jingliu journeyed from planet to planet; attacking everything and everyone in sight. She became adrift in the galaxy, and now without you there to ground her, she was now entirely consumed by the Mara-sickness.
For centuries Jingliu spiralled out of control; spending whole decades as something no better than a rabid beast. The Mara-sickness was all consuming, and it made it impossible for her to think or remember who she truly was. It was only the flashes of your time together that gave her any peace.
But slowly she found a way. Somehow over the years she managed to regain just a tiny bit of control over her fractured mind. She knew it wouldn't last long however, so before she lost herself to the madness once again she returned to the Loufu.
Of six people, three still needed to pay a price.
And Jingliu was one of them...
Once her business was taken care, she would pay the price for everything she had done to you.
She only hoped that you could forgive her...
439 notes · View notes
weebsinstash · 3 months
Text
They often say food can be a language of love, and one of the things that started driving Suguru into a deeper depression was eating curses that tasted horribly disgusting and then also not being able to eat normal food, so I was thinking about a story concept where Reader through whatever means can actually give Geto his sense of taste back and actually ease the discomfort he experiences when eating curses, and he forms a deep gratitude/obsession/love because of it
Obviously i publish yandere stuff but it doesn't mean up in Brain Land that I don't think of other ideas, action, adventure, what not, and recently I've been thinking of -also this was kind of for yandere purposes too actually lmao- Reader having a technique along the lines of "Cursed Memory Manipulation"
You can manipulate curses just like Geto, only you do it by affecting their memories into thinking you're an ally or friend or master or whatever gets them to obey. There are limits, but if it's some mindless creature, you're basically a Pokemon trainer. But I was thinking, can you imagine being his classmate who he has way too much depression to fully pay attention to, he's eating less, he's losing weight, losing sleep, and one day you're eating lunch near him and see he's struggling to keep food down, and he leaks vague details about how he keeps thinking about the taste of curses and how food doesn't taste the same.
Here you are, genuinely wanting to help him, just casually like, "well, what if I take a bite of this food, and then when you take a bite, I put my memory of what it tasted like in your head while we eat together" and it's some spur of the moment idea that he's too tired to argue against you about, so he does it to humor you and get it over with and. It works? It actually works??? He can taste and the world is beautiful again?
Oh sure, it starts off sharing lunches with him, but he's basically unable to normally eat without you, so, he all but glues himself to you at all times so you can eat all your meals together. At his worst, a yandere Geto would just immediately outright insist on if not demand marriage, because how ELSE are you two going to share every meal together? He may even force you to cook for him to make the meals you two eat all the more special. You're just his little Patron Saint of Snacks who can actually give him an appetite again
And I guess as a bonus, the idea I was originally tacking the concept of Cursed Memory Manipulation onto was, vague but, it was the idea of, what if Reader is losing a fight and is at genuine risk of being killed and you use your technique to fill your attacker with memories of you, and maybe you don't exactly have time to think and it turns out to be something really personal, something really intimate, whatever can get this person or creature or curse or whatever to stop attacking you. Sukuna suddenly remembering you as an old flame who he suddenly has too many fond memories of fucking to simply kill you. Mahito stops himself from slicing you open when he's suddenly recalling playing all kinds of games with you, running around as kids, memories of a childhood that didn't exist yet appeals to his young heart.
It's also totally different but I've also thought about 1. What if Sukuna gets in Itadori and finds out the young man isnt all there when it comes to you with Sukuna absorbing some of Yuuji's feelings for you, and then when he jumps to, his current host, HE ALSO had feelings for you, so now Sukuna is like secondhand driven mad with yandere fever and 2. What if after Kenjaku bodysnatches Geto, he runs into you again one day and all of Suguru's repressed and Strong STRONG feelings for you start surging forth and Kenjaku just HAS to keep you around as his new pet at the very least because he just can't shake all these new obsessive thoughts and the literal goosebumps he gets when he looks at you
278 notes · View notes
skzonthebrain · 9 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
For You, I Would ~ Minho | Always Together Event
Pairing: Lee Know (Minho) x reader
Genre: Marriage Pact Trope | best friends/room mates/childhood friends to lovers | fluff
Word Count: 2.9k
A/N: HELLO, I know I'm behind I'm sorry 😭 Since It's Hyune's birthday today I'll be working on his part of this event when I'm home from classes and posting before the day ends. Then come Thursday I will catch up with Changbin and Jisung's fics and I'll be back to schedule! Thank you for being patient with me, I've had a lot on my plate this past week. Please remember to give feedback and reblog if you enjoy, it means the world to me when I hear how my fics make you feel! 💕
CONTENT WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT
MAIN MASTERLIST | TAGLIST
Tumblr media
Content Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Reader and Minho are 25 for the marriage pact to match (just imagineee if aren't 25), fear of disappointing family, pressure of marriage from parents, fear of being alone, nothing but fluff and comfort! pet names used; kitten.
You let out another scream into the pillow below you, the sound coming out strangled and muffed against the fabric.
Your mother and your sister had messaged you multiple times within the last half an hour questioning you further on a 'wedding date' you had promised them you had. You in fact did not have a wedding date and had told the little white lie to avoid being paired with the only single bachelor of the groom's party, which just so happened to be his best friend and who just so happened to be creepily obsessed with you.
"Um...you all good?" Your room mate and long term best friend - Minho's voice suddenly sounded off near the doorway. Despite your muffled screams, you had alerted him out of his business call and he'd hurried to come and check in on you.
You lifted your face from the pillow, sluggishly turning to see Minho leaning against the doorway with a concerned raise to his eyebrow.
You huffed out an angry breath and rolled onto your back to stare at the ceiling, confirming to Minho that something was clearly bothering you and he made his way over to the bed to join you.
The bed dipped as he slid into a similar position next to you, staring up at the ceiling with you.
"That bad hey?" Minho chuckled at the angry pout your face was scrunched up into.
You brought your hands over your eyes and let out a groan. It felt stupid to even care about the situation. Your parents - in particularly your mother - had been nagging you for the past few years over your choice of being single, saying you were at an age now to start looking to settle down and that they weren't going to live forever to see grandchildren. Traditional as they were, you loved them and regardless of your differing views, you hated disappointing them.
When your mother had asked if you had a wedding date for your sister's wedding, with hopeful eyes - trying to fight off the doubtful look your sister was giving you - you couldn't help but lie and tell them you had been seeing someone and they would be attending.
Even though you felt completely comfortable with Minho and he knew first hand how much pressure your parents had put on you in the past, something about admitting that you too were also having doubts of what your future would look like made you embarrassed to open up fully with your best friend.
You felt the bed shift and you peaked through your hands to see Minho now blocking the ceiling from view with a pout of his own.
"You know I can't help you if I don't know what's going on." He spoke truthfully giving you a deeper pout in slight mockery. You could tell Minho felt bad for you and wanted to help, but he never missed an opportunity to tease you in the hopes it would make you feel better, or at least give you something else to focus your frustration on.
You gulped down your nerves at the sudden close proximity of your faces and turned your head away from him shyly.
"You know my sister's wedding that's coming up?" You decided to listen to Minho and explain the situation, secretly hoping it would distract him from the slight blush that had creeped over your cheeks.
Minho hadn't moved an inch, still staring down at you inquisitively,
"Yes of course, your mother keeps apologizing for my lack of invitation." He laughed, probably thinking over the same memory that came to your mind whenever your sister and Minho were brought up in conversation at the same time.
When Minho and you were fourteen, Minho went through a phase of loving Maroon 5. His mum had gifted him a white t-shirt that was signed by Adam Levine himself, which she had scored outside a concert by pure chance. Minho wore this t-shirt everywhere, including your house on visits. One day while visiting your house, your sister had accidentally squirted maple syrup onto it. Before Minho could protest she had apologized, rushing quickly to wash it before any stains could occur, but your sister hadn't seen the bright red fluffy bedtime sock of yours that had been missing this past week, wedged out of sight in the washing machine. Minho's favourite t-shirt had gone from white to red and the signature had faded significantly. To say Minho was unimpressed was an understatement. Ever since then they carried a rivalry from that point onwards, so it wasn't a huge surprise that Minho wasn't invited to the wedding.
"Well, my sister wants the groom and bride parties to all have dates so they can walk down the aisle with them for the ceremony and then enter with them for the reception. She has this huge routine organized." You rolled your eyes thinking back to the conversation you had with her about it.
"Get to the point Y/N." Minho deadpanned at you leaning down to rest his head in your lap, getting himself comfortable on the bed to listen to you intently like he always did.
You breathed out another sigh, letting go of your worries, knowing Minho enough that he wouldn't leave your room until you had told him what was on your mind. Subconsciously you found your hand weave it's way around Minho's brown locks and you comfortingly combed through them.
"I may or may not have told my family I have a date for the wedding..." You slowly spoke trying to hold off the inevitable of explaining the full situation.
You felt Minho's head grow heavier on you as he stiffened beneath your fingertips. He took a moment to process the information you had just told him before he spoke.
"So...you have a wedding date, I don't see the issue?" His tone seemed off, but you put it down to you dragging out the real issue at hand.
"The issue is, I don't actually have one..." You sighed letting your fingers massage over his scalp, but Minho abruptly moved away from your touch to sit back up into a sitting position, looking down at you with a pointed look - his eyes narrowing.
"And you waited until now to tell me? Why?" He basically demanded looking disappointed as a scowl fixed itself onto his feature, offended you hadn't gone to him sooner to ask him to be your wedding date.
You sat up with him, bringing your legs into a cross seated position and leaned yourself back onto your up-righted pillows to brace yourself.
"I didn't think you'd want to come? It is my sister's wedding after all..." You pointed out with a shrug.
It was true, you hadn't expected Minho to even be interested in attending knowing that he would be celebrating the marriage of someone he had spent most of his life despising.
Minho's face scrunched up further, but before you could defend yourself he had grabbed one of your display cushions and slapped it across your face playfully.
"HEY!" You yelled out as you tilted to the side with the force of it, your arms thrashing up to your head defensively.
"Hey me?! Hey you! Why would you not ask me!" He hit you once more in the back with the cushion for good measure before yeeting it across the room.
Seeing his weapon get dismissed you turned around quickly to give him a playful push on the chest with a pout returning to your lips.
"Again, I didn't think you would even want to come!" You defended your actions, crossing your arms over your chest grumpily as you leaned back into the pillows remaining on your bed.
Minho nodded in understanding but he gave a wave of his hand in dismissal.
"I get that. But for you, I would."
You felt your heart speed up at his admittance. Minho had said some nice things to you in the lengthy time you had known him, but this hit in a completely different sentiment.
His voice was dripping with honesty, like there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for you and knowing that Minho had your back at any given chance had the deepening pinkness of your cheeks returning.
You gave him a bashful smile and adverted your gaze shyly. An unfamiliar feeling of butterflies roaming the expanses of your stomach caught you attention and your eyes widened. You didn't understand why you were suddenly so nervous. You'd been friends with Minho since you were ten. You had countless interactions with him, so why were you shy at a few kind words?
Of course Minho was attractive, the whole reason you had even ended up friends in the first place was because you had offered him half a sandwich at lunchtime - even though he had his own - just because you had a crush on him back then. But that was years in your past now, you had moved on from those childhood 'first boy to give you attention' feelings... but had you?
"That's not the only issue Min..." You trailed off nervously toying with a lose thread on your comforter as the second problem came to the forefront of your mind.
"Spit it out." Minho grumbled moving to sit beside you, leaning back onto your pillows with you.
His shoulder brushed ever so lightly against yours distracting you for a moment before you composed yourself, shaking the image of Minho leaning over you earlier from your thoughts as it kept begging to turn your brain to mush.
"I told my family it was someone I'm seeing..." So maybe you had lied a bit too much to your family, but you had panicked and in a rush of emotions triggered by your sister's taunting side comments and therefore let slip another lie.
Minho suddenly let out a loud hearty laugh, shaking his head in disbelief at the web of lies you had tangled yourself in.
"Really?" He laughed some more before calming himself, letting his head loll back onto your headboard and tilt to look at you with an amused expression.
You groaned again, copying his movements to face your embarrassment head on. You gave him a serious glare, silently telling him off for asking the obvious.
"You've out done yourself this time kitten." Minho's use of the playful pet name he'd given you at age twelve had never impacted you before, at least not in this way. You felt your heart begin to race at the closeness of your faces, the way his voice seemed to soften with the way he pronounced your nickname, the way his face morphed from an amused filled playful smile to an intent stare as your eyes connected.
"So you can see why I didn't ask you." You explained your eyes dropping from his to find interest in your comforter once again, but Minho didn't allow you to avoid his gaze easily.
A finger hooked onto your chin as Minho titled your gaze back to his. His eyes were filled with something you'd only seen a few times before, fleeting moments of when you clumsily tripped or when you laughed uncontrollably at one of his jokes, or when you had accomplished something you worked hard for, or more recently when you'd gifted him his birthday present. It was a warmth you'd only experienced through his eyes, but you dared not linger on naming it. The integrity of your friendship would be at stake if you did.
"Do you remember what we promised each other?" He questioned you, his cat-like eyes focusing in waiting for your answer as if what you responded with was extremely important to him.
You scanned through the years of your memory. There had been countless promises uttered to each other over the years, how were you suppose to know the exact one of which he spoke of now?
Sensing your confusion Minho's amused smile returned.
"How old are we?" It was your turn to furrow your eyebrows at him as your confusion grew.
And then it suddenly dawned on you, eyes widening largely and a thousand assumptions at his mentions of him wanting to go with you to the wedding, and doing anything for you flickered through your mind like a thunderstorm echoing loudly in the distance.
You were both 25.
"The marriage pact...but..." Your words came out as a whisper of shock and you were uncertain he had heard you at all, but you were sure he did when his smirk only grew wider.
You were both sixteen, both of you without a date for your school's formal end of year ball, sitting at your table as you watched the rest of your classmates dance with each other.
'This sucks.' you had sighed sadly sinking down into your chair as you watched the boy you wanted to ask to come with you smile and pull his date closer to him on the dance floor.
'How did we both end up without a date?' You grumbled further turning your attention to your best friend with your signature pout.
His focus had been on you all night, not even seeming phased that the two of you were sat like loners in the corner of the room while the rest of your classmates were having the time of their lives.
'Just the way the cookie crumbles.' He shrugged taking a sip of punch, completely unbothered compared to you.
'Is this what it's always going to be like?' You had let yourself be consumed by depressing thoughts of a future just like this, alone as you watched your classmates get engaged, then married, then live out their happily ever afters together.
'Be like?" Minho asked confused, discarding his punch to the side as he once again put all his attention on you.
'Alone. They all look so happy...' You stared off into the crowd feeling the weight of your words hang heavy over your heart.
'You aren't alone though are you? I'm right here.' He reassured you, taking your hand into his as he rose to his feet, trying to pull you with him but you hesitated firmly keeping your butt to your seat.
'It's not what I mean Min. We're always together...maybe that is why no one will date me...maybe that's why no one will ever marry me..."
Minho could see you spiraling before his eyes and he harshly tugged you to your feet, holding your waist to steady you in front of him.
'Then I'll marry you so you won't be lonely.' He declared with a warm smile.
You knew he was only saying it to comfort you, but you couldn't help the smile you gave him back at the hope you clung onto.
'You would?'
'I sure would. How about if we aren't married by 25, we get married? That way neither of us will ever be alone.' Minho suggested.
You hadn't noticed the seriousness in his eyes that night. Maybe it was due to the barely lit gymnasium or your naivety of Minho ever falling for you, but you could see it now as you replayed the night over and over in your mind.
'Consider yourself a married man by 25 then Min.' You had smiled brightly back at him as you tugged him toward the dance floor to join your class mates.
'I'll hold you to it.' Minho chuckled back at you fondly.
That night Minho had turned an awful evening into one of the best nights your memory held in your 25 years of living. And it wasn't just that night, many memories came to mind of Minho by your side the moment you needed him, ready to remind you that he was there for you always.
"We're supposed to be married and you're worried about me being your boyfriend?" He smiled mischievously, dragging you out of your thoughts and all you could do in response was blink at him, trying to see through the playfulness to see any hint of seriousness to his words.
As if Minho could read your mind - being friends with you as long as he had aiding him in reading you like a book - he leaned closer into the space between you to whisper in your ear.
"I've tried making it obvious over all these years kitten, but nothing I seem to do gets through to you." His breath was tickling the hairs by your ear, but nothing could distract you from the words you didn't even know you were dying to hear.
"Tell your sister you'll be bringing your boyfriend as your wedding date." He instructed pulling away you, amused smile still tugging at his lips, but his eyes held the emotion you weren't so scared to name anymore.
Unconditional love. Pure adoration glistening in his brown orbs back at you.
"Are...a-are you being serious?" You stuttered out. You felt like your body was shaking, but you were completely still, frozen in shock that Minho had felt the same way that you had all this time, regardless of how much you'd tried to suppress it.
"Get dressed." He leaned back into you, giving you a pleasant kiss to your forehead before he lifted himself off your bed and headed for the doorway.
Once again reading your mind, Minho paused to turn back at you before you could ask him why.
"We're going suit shopping for the wedding, and then I'm finally taking you out on a proper date."
You gave him a slow nod, still in a trance trying to catch up to reality.
Minho's amusement came back to his features as he took in your dazed expression.
"Who knows..." Minho continued his path to the door way, but not before stopping in it to cheekily add,
"Maybe I'll be attending as your fiancé instead."
© skzonthebrain 2022 - 2024
Tumblr media
TAGLIST 🏷️
@stayconnecteed @starlostastronaut @juskz @jabmastersupriseee @cotton-candycloudz @bangchansbae @maknaeswrld @stellasays45 @idkwhatto-namethis @rylea08 @luvyev @moonlight-the-writer @stepout-09-15 @silverstarburst @itzlexiemcheart
Thank you for letting me tag you! 💞 If it hasn't tagged you properly please check your settings or if you entered your username correctly! Any tags that continuously don't tag properly will be removed from the tag list.
You will NOT be added to the taglist if you DON'T have an age identifier in your bio or your pinned!
257 notes · View notes
prinaka · 1 year
Text
“Sakura is toxic because she made fun of Naruto for being an orphan–”
She regretted it the second after Sasuke rightfully called her out and even opened a therapy center for war orphans.
Ino fatshamed Choji, Shikamaru was a misogynist, Neji misplaced his anger at Hinata, but no one ever calls them out. They were all kids, they all made mistakes.
Tumblr media
“Sakura is abusive because she constantly punches Naruto–”
She only hit him in the manga when he did something perverted or disrespectful, it was heavily exaggerated in the anime.
It's called slap stick comedy. If you think it's aBuSiVe, I hope you have the same energy for Jiraiya who peeked at the women's bathroom without consent and gets brushed off as ‘comedic purpose’, double standards much?
Tumblr media
“She has Stockholm Syndrome because she loved Sasuke after he tried to kill her–”
They're shinobis. Unlike our real world, it's the norm there to fight each other to death and then make up. Don't get it mixed up.
Naruto forgave every single villain in the series, including Pain who killed his master and destroyed his village. Obito, who killed his parents, started a war, was the reason for the deaths of countless people such as Neji, and Shikamaru & Ino's fathers, formed a terrorist organisation (which was responsible for multiple war crimes) yet no one bats an eye. Lee forgave Gaara who attempted to kill him, Hinata forgave Neji who tried to kill her for something which wasn't her fault. It's the norm there, deal with it.
Sasuke also tried to kill Naruto, Kakashi & Karin and they all forgave him but for some reason only Sakura gets shit for it? Double standards again.
“Sakura is a bitch who loves Sasuke and ignores Naruto who loves her–”
Sakura cares for Naruto, as a friend and her teammate. She's not obligated to return her feelings if she doesn't want to. Naruto doesn't ‘love’ her. He had a childhood crush on her, and it used to be mentioned less frequently than in the anime. SP exaggerated his feelings.
Kakashi didn't return Rin's feelings. Sasuke didn't return Ino, Karin and Sakura's feelings (until ch. 699 in Sakura's case). Naruto didn't return Hinata's feelings until The Last. Tsunade didn't like Jiraiya back. Then why is Sakura hated for something so ridiculous? She's allowed to make her own choices.
Tumblr media
“She is shallow, she only liked Sasuke for his looks–”
If her feelings for Sasuke truly were shallow, she'd have moved on after he left the village, she'd have moved on after he became a criminal, like Ino did. She saw Sasuke at his worst and still chose him with all his flaws.
A ‘shallow crush’ wouldn't last for so many years. If her feelings weren't strong or deep, Sasuke wouldn't choose her in the end. If her feelings were superficial she wouldn't risk her life to save him against Gaara. If she didn't love him, she'd not be able to stop his curse mark. If they were superficial, she'd have moved on to date some other handsome man instead of crying over Sasuke.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
“Sakura is useless as a main character–”
That's not her fault. That's a criticism for the author. None of the female characters in the series have as much complexity, fight scenes or power as the male characters. It's a shonen centric more to the male characters.
Sakura IS a main character because she contributes more in the manga than other female characters but she's not going to contribute as much as Sasuke or Naruto because the series revolved around men more than women.
Take Attack on Titan for example, it's a shonen where the contribution of male and female characters were distributed equally. In Naruto, it simply wasn't distributed equally.
Tumblr media
“Sakura is selfish because she tried to lead on Naruto–”
I can agree here that she was entirely in the wrong and made a very stupid decision. But that's exactly what makes Sakura a realistic character. She's flawed. She makes mistakes. She can be irrational. And that makes her human. She didn't lie to him because she thought it would be fun, she did it to protect. She had good intentions even if she took the wrong approach.
Sasuke, as another of the main characters, did more harm to Naruto than Sakura's confession did but everyone understands and forgives him. Obito started a war and killed people and was forgiven. Itachi killed his entire clan and traumatised Sasuke but the fandom forgives because of his reasoning. Nagato killed people, and was still forgiven.
Then why can't you all be more understanding of Sakura? She did not even half of the terrible things which other characters did but gets more hate for it.
Tumblr media
“Sakura is a bad friend to Ino–”
Sakura was SEVEN when she announced Ino as her rival. I'm sorry y'all are morally uptight who's never made a single stupid decision as a kid that you feel the need to accuse a child of being a villain for acting like a child. And it has been implied very clearly Sakura wanted to get out of Ino's shadow and only used Sasuke as an excuse to do so.
And if Sakura was this horrible bitchy friend you guys think she was then I don't think Ino would immediately jump to protect her during chunin exams. Sasuke did more terrible things to his best friend than Sakura did but once only Sakura gets shit for it.
And they never stopped being friends, only their dynamic changed, it included friendly bickering and rivalry. Ino never was mad or bitter with Sakura and even proudly told her she bloomed into a beautiful flower, this doesn't sound like a person who's been unfairly betrayed by a best friend over a crush?
Tumblr media Tumblr media
In short, Sakura Haruno is fucking amazing and maybe if y'all didn't hold female characters to such a ridiculous high standard and bothered to understand the manga instead of watching filler episodes, you'd know.
Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
azumasoroshi · 3 months
Text
happy 12/24-25! i think too often about the “gege hates gojo” jokes because holy shit it is PERSONAL with gege
like yeah he sealed him and killed him but like. every aspect of gojo’s character is just so. gege really said “i’m going to make you the strongest character in the history of ever and you’re going to be cool and attractive and funny and your fans will love you, BUT:
The entire point of your character is that no matter how much power you have, you are helpless to save the people you truly care about
You’re so powerful that the only way you can narratively exist without destroying every enemy in jjk other than Sukuna is to get snatched away, sealed, get your powers taken away, or die (even in the fucking video game you only get a certain number of turns to act before you get yoinked)
You can never escape the system you were born into because your power has become your character
You’ll think you’re changing the system for the better but end up perpetuating the system anyway in allowing children to go on dangerous missions
You cannot supervise said children on dangerous missions because you’re running around Japan like a headless chicken at the whims of the higher ups
You never got the chance to fully grow up because a part of you died when Toji killed you and a part of you died when Suguru left you and what else is there left
Your own desire for power blinded you to your best friend’s depression and it’s one of your greatest regrets yet a part of you still thinks Suguru wasn’t strong enough to keep up which is why you keep saying you want strong allies who can keep up with you and you are just terribly equipped to handle your students’ emotional challenges and insecurities even though you try your best
You will never make any emotional connections as lovely as the one from your youth which you still cry about on the rare occasions you actually sleep
You will only be able to tell Suguru you love him right before you KILL HIM
No matter whether Suguru was your best friend, ex-boyfriend, crush that you never confessed to, or boy you only realized you were in love with after he left you, you will NEVER be able to get over him and an evil brain will use this against you and several people you care about will get fucked over because you cared too much
Even though your students/coworkers sometimes like you the first thing 99% of them think of when they think of you is “The Strongest” and even in your breakup arc Suguru, the one person you wanted to stand by your side and share the title, began to think of you in that way as well and distanced himself from you because of it.
The narrative requires that you be lonely at the top as a direct consequence of your power - even metaphorically, infinity separates you from the rest of the world and your wide range of destruction makes it so allies are a hindrance in battle and you could destroy the people you dare about in seconds (see: thank fuck todo stopped yuuji from stepping into range of purple)
You are going to fight the boy you may or may not have raised from childhood because of the other boy with Sukuna inside him that he asked you to save and you can’t hesitate because the last time you hesitated about someone you cared about you got sealed and people died
You may or may not have died to the strongest curse of all time and are left forever unsatisfied even in death because not only was your culty/cunty best friend not there to cheer you on, but you think Sukuna couldn’t even go all out against you, the strongest sorcerer of your time, despite strength being your whole thing
and as a bonus, you also “died” after cockily saying “Nah I’d win” which will get extensively memed on the internet at your expense”
like not to woobify gojo or anything but oh my god jesus fucking christ gege
he was like “ill make you hot as a treat mostly for myself because i like drawing hot men but you’re going to be so incredibly fucking doomed by the narrative in every possible way”
like he loves drawing shirtless men but he never drew gojo shirtless like gege!! GEGE!!!! what did he DO to deserve this level of narrative ire omfg
202 notes · View notes
rillils · 2 months
Note
how do explain stucky from the moment they met to where they are now (together in each others arms) to my friend who knows nothing about marvel
ohh this is a tough one, honey! i think i've got two options for you:
the short answer:
stucky is a compendium of all the best tropes out there, and i'm sure i'm gonna miss a few:
soulmates? check! star-crossed lovers? check! battle husbands? super check! mutual pining? check! 'and they were roommates'? check! best friends to lovers? check check check! long-lost lover comes back from the dead? fuck yeah, check! temporary amnesia? check! dude in distress trope? check! 'they will always find each other and choose each other in every lifetime'? also check! identity porn? extra check! saved by the power of love? you guessed it: check! slow burn or childhood sweethearts? you decide!!! did they share their first kiss when steve was 16, as per a popular fanon theory? did they only confess their feelings during the war? did they only get together much later, when bucky was healing in wakanda? you can pick literally ANY point in their timeline, and it will still make sense! they're all equally valid! you can even have multiple different headcanons at once, i mean who's gonna stop you??? all you have to do is join in the fun! 💕
the long AF answer, aka:
STEVE & BUCKY'S LOVE STORY, UNABRIDGED SOMEWHAT ABRIDGED, part 1/3
all right, let's set the scene:
imagine two young kids, let's call them steve and bucky. they meet, they immediately take to each other, they become instant besties! and as they grow up together, facing many hardships, their bond deepens. not only are they best friends; they are also each other's family. they take care of each other, and they both know they can always rely on one another in times of need.
when steve's mom (and only remaining relative) passes away, bucky reminds him that he's not as alone in this world as he thinks he is: bucky will always be by his side. bucky will always love him unconditionally, will always be there for him, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer, and he wants steve to know that.
Tumblr media
in fact, he asks steve to move in with him, thus offering steve both a literal and a metaphorical home.
Tumblr media
and steve says yes!
Tumblr media
SO. they are each other's home, they're living together, they're getting by all right. but then war breaks out, and eventually it reaches their little home as well: bucky is drafted, and steve, due to his many health issues, and despite his best intentions, can't follow the boy he loves onto the battlefield.
it's a very difficult time for them both - so much so that they can't even bring themselves to talk about it.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
they have no choice but to say goodbye for now, knowing that they might never see each other again. but here's something you might not know yet about steve: he's the most reckless, most stubborn fucker america's ever seen. he's not gonna let this stop him!!! instead, he goes and gets a very sweet, kindly scientist to fucking experiment on him, because screw it, he's going to fight in this war if it's the last thing he does. and that's how he goes from Smol Steeb to Lorge Premium Steeb.
Tumblr media
of course, things don't go exactly as he predicted, and steve is made to be the star of a war propaganda-fuelled musical kinda thingie, which he resents (but he looks fucking precious in his costume)
Tumblr media
BUT! he does get closer to the actual battlefield. which is where he discovers that bucky has been captured by the enemy (!!!!!!!) and is most likely dead by now. but steve isn't willing to give up so easily! he'll believe bucky's dead when he sees it with his own eyes. so, he embarks on this suicide solo mission in the attempt to get bucky back, even if it means wandering on his own. into enemy territory. where he would be shot. on. sight. with no protection for his dumb ass except for a bunch of theater props!!! but such is the power of love, y'all.
Tumblr media
against all odds, steve finds bucky very much still alive! and as soon as bucky recognizes him, even as confused as he is, he pulls out this beautiful, ecstatic, angelic-ass smile, like he's just seen god or he got high on some real good edibles or maybe both idk, like my man here was having a serious Religious Experience™ you guys
Tumblr media
and i just wanna say, they could have totally kissed here and it would have made plenty of sense. but that's true of like 90% of their scenes in this franchise, so *shrugs*
ANYWAY steve takes bucky in his arms (well technically yes he does) and brings him to safety, and on their way there, bucky proves once more just how hard he meant that "with you til the end of the line" from before
Tumblr media
afterwards, steve is finally given the chance to fight, just like he wanted.
bucky, on the other hand, could very well leave the war behind and go home; but when he learns that steve is staying, he chooses to stay too, and fight by his side. and he tells steve so in this very intimate, softspoken, delightfully suggestive conversation, which can be summed up like this:
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
and so they walk right back into the heart of the fight, only this time together, as they were always meant to be!
but. during an especially tricky mission, they're surprised by the enemy, and as a result, bucky falls to his death into a deep ravine.
steve is devastated. overwhelmed with guilt, grief and rage, he vows to bring down the people responsible for his loss, even if it costs him his own life.
and um, it kind of does? cost him his own life?
victorious after his last vis-a-vis with The Antagonist™, steve still chooses to sacrifice himself to prevent the catastrophe set into motion by the aforementioned Antagonist™. he's flying a jet over the frosty expanse of the atlantic, and you know, from the outside, you could easily argue that he could try to save himself. if he really wanted to. but with bucky dead, and the people responsible for all this pain, either dead or captured, it seems like all the will to fight is gone from steve; and so he plunges the jet straight into the ocean, and himself with it.
is this the end of their story?, you might ask.
the answer is: of course not!!!! the best is yet to come, babes!!!
EDIT: here is part 2
151 notes · View notes
grapejuicestyless · 7 months
Text
Mad Woman
Conrad Fisher x fem!reader
Angst to less angst???
Summery: Out of his own jealousy, Jeremiah decides to take the one thing Conrad has always wanted away from his brother in an attempt to finally have something over him. He never meant to hurt anyone, but in doing that, he hurt everyone.
Jeremiah is a total douche in this(I love him it’s just bc I needed a mean character.)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
“You can have her, I won’t get in the way. But I will not watch you climb over people like her. She might be your girlfriend now, but she was my best friend first. Whatever you do, I will not defend it.” He was seething in anger when the news broke. Chest heaving unevenly the moment he had to watch as my lips captured hers. How my hands had a home in her hips. I was the one who got to worship her. I hope it killed him to know I finally had something he didn’t. I won the girl, not him.
He left the room, leaving behind the lingering shadow of a storm that brewed between us. A tension that was caused solely by his own jealousy. Conrad had always been older, stronger, smarter. The better brother. I hoped it killed him to know that even if all those things were true, he still couldn’t get the one thing he so desperately wanted. I felt giddy about it, in contrast to him.
I had the warmth of a childhood friend to crowd my bed on the chilly summer nights. Company that would only be for me, she was all mine.
Of course, Y/n was completely oblivious to the rift being created from this scandal. She always was so blind to what people felt for her, too nervous to see if her instincts were true. She never wanted to feel like an idiot if she was wrong, so she ignored them.
She would’ve never let me kiss her, hold her, have her if she’d known what Conrad felt for her. She didn’t want to see anyone hurt. So much so, she would rather live a life of misery and loneliness than to pit two friends against each other, much less brothers. And if that wasn’t enough to point out her stupidity around the topic, it was painfully apparent the way Y/n and Conrad shared glances. Like he was the only boy in the world. She didn’t idolize him, she had too much pride to put a boy over herself, but the love she felt for him was overflowing in a way that seeped into everyone else’s lives. Always trying to push the pair together.
Now, Y/n was mine. I could call her my girlfriend, my own. Conrad had finally lost, I had something over him. It wasn’t like I didn’t like Y/n. I thought she was the most beautiful girl in Cousins, maybe even in Pennsylvania. I hadn’t been, but I could assume that she was.
The relationship started slow, easy. I still remember the first night we spent together. I hadn’t touched her more than my arm slung around her shoulders so she could prop her head up on my bicep. I didn’t push for her to give me affection. She never hinted that she wanted more anyways. It was never rushed, we were always able to enjoy the closeness of our company, never needing more. Just being close was enough.
Sometimes we’d kiss, my hands in hers, eyes fluttering shut. Mostly, I did it in front of Conrad. I believed it felt better when it was more than just a kiss, but a way to rub salt in the wound that Conrad wore shamefully on his sleeve. Sometimes he would clear his throat, start talking to break it up so he could save the last bit of composure he had left. More often than now though, Conrad just walked away. Not willing to fight for her attention anymore. Not strong enough to even try.
It was a pattern like this, Y/n and I having small intimate moments behind closed doors, saving the steamy things for the couch cushions or the poolside mid-afternoon. Our dirty laundry was aired out in the open, allowing the mind to not only imagine what we were doing, but have physical proof of it.
Part of me felt bad, horrible inside. Y/n was the best of all of us. The kindest, the bravest. The second oldest. While Conrad struggled to keep us all safe, she was always his helping hand. Keeping everyone content and satisfied. Truly, I did really like her. I loved being with her. I’d always had a little crush on the girl, how could I not? Everything about her was so perfect. She was a dream. But deep down I always knew that what we had together had only started through some sort of twisted competition I held with my brother. The burning desire to have something he never would.
Maybe that’s when I started to push her away, because even if I had once been able to convince myself that I was with her out of my own feelings, I knew better than that. I knew I was doing it out of pure selfishness. What was so new and vibrant in June was rusted and unwanted by the following spring. Our long history together only making the shine turn into a matte finish, something old and worn out. I no longer had any pull towards her. I no longer imagined how her soft skin would feel under my fingertips. How her lips melted against mine. Our closeness, even in the most intimate moments felt dull. Sparks that once flew hiding away.
I began to try to pull away without a reason. Only that I was bored. Conrad seemingly felt better about it, coming to terms that maybe this was the end of his little daydream he always imagined he had with Y/n. So the competition felt useless. It was no fun anymore, I didn’t care. And with that dying down, so did the excitement. The thing that had sparked the fire burning between us in the beginning.
………………………………………………………………………………….
“Hey, Jere.” Her voice was like honey, smile so infectious as she waited for me by the front door. Summer had begun again and still, I strung the poor girl along instead of just cutting the ties. Slowly wrapping my noose around her, slowly breaking down her confidence. I watched her genuine kindness turn into a cover up for the scathing anger underneath it.
“Hi, Y/n.” I brushed past her, shoulder bumping, I expected her to follow. She didn’t.
Her frame was still at the door, hands clenching and unclenching quickly. I heard her sigh out of irritation. Finally then, she turned on her heals to meet me in the kitchen, elbows leaning on the counter, eyes killing me slowly with her deadly glare.
This was some form of punishment that was aimed directly at nothing. Only due to the fact that I didn’t have a single care about her anymore. Not even her darkest moods had any affect on me.
“What? What’s got you so upset?” I almost wanted to tease her further, knowing fully well that what I was doing was getting under her skin. I swear she almost broke, but her mouth was sealed shut.
“I’m not upset.” She breathed out evenly, putting on a false smile. Just once I’d like her to get mad. Freak out on me, end it so this whole game could be over.
“Really? You seem mad.” Looking away from her, I went to focus on anything else more interesting in the kitchen.
“Well, I’m not.” Her voice was raised, but she didn’t scream. She never did. She would never let anyone see her upset, always wanting peace. So instead of taking out her frustrations on me, the person who was the source of them, she left. Walking away to find where her head had gone.
“Who do you think you are?” His voice was harsh, like a slap to the face. Conrad never put his hands on me, but I almost wished he would’ve. A punch would’ve ended much quicker than this long argument that was about to ensue.
I shrugged.
“You have someone you don’t deserve at all, someone who stands by you even at your worst and you treat her like that?” Conrad was always the more mature out of the two of us. To describe him as more levelheaded would be untrue. We both had our moments, lost our cool on multiple occasions. But out of the two of us, he usually made the better choices. Did the right things. It would’ve been the right thing to let her go after that. It should’ve been a wake up call. But instead all I got out of his small outburst was the confirmation that even if he downplayed it, deep down he was still hurting. He still wanted her. So I would continue to play the game.
Not because I wished to hurt my brother, or Y/n for that matter. But because I just wanted one thing in my life that Conrad did not have. It was cruel, and twisted but I could not see that. It was like some sort of tunnel vision was casted down onto me and I only had one goal. Excluding the fact that I was hurting two very important people in my life.
………………………………………………………………………………….
It was early August by now, and it was a long time coming. This summer, unlike all the previous ones, seemed to drag by. Tensions high each day, only growing worse and worse with each passing hour until a fight broke out. The magic that once put us all in a trance had slipped off, revealing our darkest colors. To say that my relationship was strong, holding up through this would be a lie. It would’ve been a lie since July.
Because in July, I had not only been distancing myself from Y/n, but I had taken an interest for her younger sister. Belly. To compare the two, Belly was a little louder. A little shorter and her hair was longer. Y/n and her shared the same traits other than that. Not appearance wise, but personality wise. Both having some driving force pushing them into an intense competitive state. Both overly kind and caring for others. It was like newer version of the girl I already had, it was irresistible.
Even in my worst behavior, I could see it was wrong. So wrong to have let Belly trap me in the kitchen. No, even I wasn’t that naïve to blame it solely on her. It was wrong for me to kiss Belly. Even in Y/n and I’s roughest patch. She had never done anything to hurt me, always trying her hardest to be the best girlfriend someone could be to someone like me.
Glass shattered on the floors, a soft gasp being swallowed whole by the suddenness of the sound.
Belly and I pulled away with a pop, scrambling to fix ourselves, to downplay our mistake.
“Y/n.” I was utterly shocked to see her standing there, hair pinned up, the shirt she wore was ironically her sisters. She had glitter by her eyes and lips reddened, bitten raw. She looked like something out of a movie, even at her worst. For the first time I’d known her, she was speechless. The worst part, however, was the matching expression painted on the face behind her. The smile fading slowly into a familiar expression mixed with shock, hate and disappointment. Maybe even disgust.
“Y/n…” I tried again, trying to make it sound more pitiful. I reached out to grasp her hands, hold her. I wanted to hold her. It was odd. In the entire situation, I’d never really longed to hold her like this. I’d never felt my heart beat so fast. Shit, was I really? I was in love.
“No-don’t.” She warned, backing away, hands raised as a warning. She couldn’t even look at me, let alone Belly who was now hidden behind my shoulder, sinking down into herself.
“Y/n, hey, no please.” I begged again, not really sure what I was begging for.
She wiped away her tears with the palm of her hands, sucking in a breath. She tried to collect herself, but she couldn’t. It was only a matter of time before shit hit the fan. You can only put on a fake smile for so long before you are driven mad. And no one likes a mad woman.
“Fuck you, forever.” She stormed out before I even had the chance to speak, gone like an early autumn breeze. I could see she was angry, steam practically blowing out of her ears. But she didn’t yell, or give it to me like I had hoped. Our flame simply faltered out. Silently, slowly.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Words I had heard one too many times in the past year. Ones that sometimes I wondered myself.
Truthfully, I didn’t know. I had her, right in the palm of my hands, but I poked that bear, I caused the end of this beautiful situation we found ourselves in. I had no real explanation for it. I just did it because I wanted to. I wanted Belly more than I had ever wanted her, or I thought so. No, Belly was just a crush. Now that I had lost her older sister, I saw her as my other half. Something that I should’ve loved completely from the very beginning.
I expected to hear his rants about how shitty of a boyfriend I was to her. How I’d taken away his one true love only to break her heart.
“You might be my brother by blood, but you are no brother of mine.” It was as quiet as a mouse coming from him, almost as if he didn’t believe such words could come out of his mouth. The venom that was laced within them told me that even in the guilt he felt while confessing it, he meant it. And if it wasn’t obvious in his scathing rage, I knew he had meant it for awhile. I didn’t expect him to leave without even a second look after that. Chasing after the beautiful woman I left behind.
I never meant to hurt anyone. I never wanted to. I was just so blind sighted I hadn’t even noticed how negatively I was impacting everyone’s lives. How I was just fucking up consistently until there was nothing left to mess with. All over some stupid jealousy. A war between two brothers that didn’t exist to Conrad, but only to me. And in trying to win, I had hurt two of the most important people in my life.
………………………………………………………………………………….
“Y/n. Y/n, Wait!” I chased after her like my life depended on it. Even the tightness in my chest couldn’t stop me. The quickness in my steps, and the length of them making it easy to catch her in just mere minutes.
“Go away.” She held her hand up, looking away. By the shaking in her voice, I could tell she didn’t mean it.
She was hurting. But she wasn’t sad. No, the tears that were so obviously glistening in the golden hour light weren’t of despair or even a faint sadness. They were hot, angry tears. And she had every right to be.
She should be mad, she should be scathing like me. Her face was contorted into a frown, eyebrows furrowed. I could tell she wanted to scream, wanted to, but no one likes a mad woman. Not even she did, but it she couldn’t help it. He made her like that.
I knew there was no getting through to her, no talking to her when she was so upset. I could only offer my shoulder for her to lean on. And as her tears soaked through my thin sleeves, I held her. I would continue to hold her until it was all okay. Until my brother was nothing more than a distant memory, one that felt more like a fever dream than reality.
So standing there, on the hill that led down to the beach, we sunk into the sandy grass. Hiding away from the world.
“I’m sorry Conrad. I’m so sorry. I was just so stupid. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She apologized over and over, and for some reason my mouth couldn’t move. I could only sit there looking at her and hope that she could read my mind.
365 notes · View notes
lanymme · 5 months
Text
Think about how Saria spent years in betrayal and anger, driven for justice, searching out all of Rhine Lab’s wrongdoings, developing her philosophy on what science is for, all to right the course of the thing she build together with Kristen, who she dedicated her life to.
Kristen, the child of her idols. Kristen, her first love. Kristen, who she promised to protect.
Kristen, who betrayed her.
Kristen, who took advantage of her devotion.
Kristen, who designed a weapon against her, against the formula they came up with together.
Kristen, who is harming the very people they set out together to serve.
Kristen, who she’ll judge and bring back to the right path.
Kristen, who she never fully understood.
Kristen, whose plans she needs to stop. Kristen, who might bring the whole world tumbling down as she achieves her dream.
Kristen, who she slowly realizes is going to die in pursuit of her dream, just like her parents.
She tanks an anti-tank weapon to the head. She fights against an ancient caster and warrior. She fights the very people she trained, the knights that protect and serve Kristen. She saves her kid, finally. She learns to rely on others, to communicate. She reconciles with her partner. She flies a plane up, up into the upper atmosphere (just like the Wrights), through a combat zone, and docks it on a moving station. She learns to let go of her careful control of her every move, to act spontaneously, decisively.
All this to reach Kristen. To stop her.
But when she finally meets her… That’s her childhood friend. Her first love.
She fights her, endures her power, one last time, taking step by painful step toward her. She tells her she’s wrong about science, shares the philosophy and perspective she’s built over the years to stop her from harming people, to fight the culture that birthed them.
But really, she’s trying to talk Kristen down. You were wrong to do this. Give it up. Your dream is beautiful. Come with me. You finally achieved your parents’ dream. We can still survive this. I don’t doubt that this will affect the entire world. Watch it with me. I can still save you. The escape pods are gone? I’ll calcify us together—use the arts we developed together—and we’ll fall together; maybe we’ll survive, maybe we won’t. I’ll do everything I can, even if it’s doomed. Let me save you. Please. Please let me protect you.
And Kristen, who never lost faith in her, who knew Saria would reach her, who always wanted to share the truth, her moment of triumph, the fate she had chosen for herself with the woman she loves, who knew Saria would never leave her by choice and installed a trapdoor in her dreamer’s space pod so that she could live on… presses the button.
And Saria, after her long, long climb, falls. The final stage of the rocket to Kristen’s dream, falling away.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
What must it be like, as she fell, to realize she spent her whole life helping Kristen assemble her space program? That when Kristen used to look up at the stars, she was not just seeing the past, her parents’ deaths, the legacy she has to uphold; she was seeing this future she had always planned for herself. That this was always the wish that Saria devoted herself to protecting.
And she kept her promise.
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
199 notes · View notes