#heads of some companies are literal criminals

[amoscontorta]

Wine time with Sylus | ao3 | other stories in this 'series'

Summary: Sylus invites himself over, helps himself to your first aid kit and your kitchen, manipulates you into tasting wine with him, discusses his latest business venture, and gifts you more than one present before he's good and ready to finally leave.

Notes: Sylus x gn reader, Sylus x mc, second person pov, no use of y/n

This story contains: fluff, banter, angst, mc with obvious self esteem issues, grief, self-destructive behavior, profanity, alcohol use, criminal activity, allusions to violence, sleepy kissing, biting, inappropriate thoughts regarding kitchen tools, the mental gymnastics mc engages in to avoid acknowledging or recognizing feelings on either side should come with their own warning to be honest, one very thirsty mc whose thoughts are NSFW. This part ends with a misunderstanding that you can bet Sylus will not put up with for long.

In the days following Sylus’s latest little… visit, you’re called out more frequently than usual to counter wanderer attacks. You’re barely home, and the few times you stumble home late into the night, you peel your sweat and sometimes blood-stained hunter’s uniform off right in the entryway, promise yourself you’ll do laundry soon, and drag your aching body to the shower. Then you usually spend what little night you have left lying there with your eyes closed, carefully keeping your mind blank as sleep remains elusive. You have to admit to yourself that the few times Sylus kept you company overnight, you slept like the dead, but you refuse to go so far as admitting that you wouldn’t mind if it were more frequent. If you were to admit it to yourself, which you will not,  you only yearn for it strictly for the sake of your sleep schedule, and absolutely not because you’ve come to crave his warm, comforting bulk against your body.

Tonight is no different, but you’re both looking forward to and dreading the next few days, as Captain Jenna has ordered you to take some time off to rest and recover from the brutal schedule you’ve been keeping for months now, capped off by the recent spate of increased attacks. All of your wheedling to let you keep going, that you’re fine, that the people of Linkon need you, that you need the constant distraction, has proven useless. Apparently the frequency with which you are getting injured remains acceptable, but she is finally at the end of her patience reading your barely coherent, misspelled reports with unfinished sentences that you only manage to submit before Association mandated deadlines by the skin of your teeth.

“Go home, get your head on straight, and come back rested … and literate again, please.” She looks back down at the tablet on her desk, trying to dismiss you, but you stubbornly remain at attention at her desk.

“That’s discrimination, Captain. I can be a perfectly functional hunter without being able to read or write,” you protest, while Xavier winces behind you. “I mean, obviously I can read and write, I’m just a little tired, that’s all. Still able to destroy wanderers!”

Jenna’s already formidable expression begins to darken, but you’re not cowed. You open your mouth to helpfully point out that wanderers don’t care about how well you can spell, when you feel Xavier’s gentle hand on your arm. “Come on, why don’t we go together to get some snacks on the way home? I think they’ve started re-issuing that wasabi flavored chocolate bar we tried at the beginning of the year,” he says softly, and Jenna shoots him an appreciative look before proceeding to ignore you both.

You glumly follow Xavier out into the early evening. Rush hour is over, but the sidewalks are still bustling with life. You weave through the mass of humanity, resisting the urge to drop-kick anyone who cuts you off or brushes against you accidentally. I am a role model for the Hunter’s Association, even when I’m off the clock, I am not allowed to arrest someone for bumping into me…. I am not allowed to arrest someone for…

Xavier tries to distract you from your obvious frustration by describing the plot of the latest manga series he’s reading that he thinks you’ll like as you two make your way  home. You listen absently, feeling slightly calmed by his soothing voice, despite its graphic descriptions of violence in the manga that you are pretty sure you’re going to really like.

“Are there any hot guys in it?” you ask as the mass of people begins to thin the closer you get to your building.

“Hot… guys?” he blinks in confusion, his impossibly blue eyes flashing in the streetlamps that have just turned on.

“Yeah. Like that other one we read, Help, I, a lowly office worker, went to sleep and woke up as the Queen’s assassin in the book I fell asleep reading. The main guy in that was super hot.”

“Well, it is by the same mangaka, so you’d probably like the way they draw the main character in this one too,” he says uncertainly, but with a strange expression on his face, like he suddenly doesn’t want you to read it with him anymore.

“Okay, I’ll give it a try. Have you finished the first volume yet? Can I borrow it?”

You’ve reached your building, the trees surrounding the courtyard rustling in the soft end-of-summer breeze.

“…Great,” he says after a brief hesitation. He holds open one of the entrance's doors for you to enter the your building’s foyer. Your boots and his echo on the polished floor as you make your way into the lift. “I’ll be finished by tomorrow. How about we go the bookstore and afterwards you can come over and read since we have the day off? You can start volume one, and I’ll start volume 2. Does that sound good? We can make fancy ramen,” he says, his normally sleepy energy spiking with the idea of adding a boiled egg and some frozen vegetables to the normally plain ramen the two of you consume more often than not while on the go. Xavier’s idea of fancy has always been adorable to you.

The idea of not just sitting in your apartment alone on the first day of your forced leave is a welcome one, and you agree that he can come find you when he’s woken up, so that you don’t risk waking him up. He likes this plan, because obviously, you’re hardly sleeping at all, and he sleeps longer than you ever would have imagined possible for humans until you met him. As the elevator approaches your floor and the doors slide open, you’re about to step out when Xavier’s soft voice behind you has you turning to look back at his pretty face.

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs, eyes searching yours. “I know you feel like you’ve lost everything right now, and that the pain seems unbearable.”

You quickly turn your head—you were not expecting this sneak attack of sympathy and kindness from him. You nod jerkily, trying not to let his warmth sink into you, or else you might start crying.

“It sounds cliché, but with time, even this pain will fade. And you have so much time ahead of you. I can promise you that. One day you’ll wake up, and it will be slightly less unbearable. That doesn’t mean you forget about what you’ve lost. But you can think of it without… without feeling like you’re destroyed again, every time.” He’s looking at you, but you also have the feeling that he’s looking at something else, from a great distance. Knowing how secretive he is, it’s unlikely you’ll ever know what it is he’s seeing.

You nod again, and whatever he sees in you profile seems to satisfy him as he offers you a soft ‘Goodnight,’ and you scurry from the lift to your front door. You tuck away his words, and push them down deep. You know they’re well intended. But you can’t handle crying right now. Not yet. Not yet. So you focus on possible plans for the days stretching ahead of you.

There is a part of you that’s looking forward to possibly being able to rest, it’s true. But the stretch of empty days, without work and battle and the social interaction of colleagues, had been filling you with anxiety before your plans with Xavier were made. But even after tomorrow, you’ll try to make the best of it. You can… try to remember what hobbies you had, before your life blew up. Maybe you can take up a new hobby! Within the span of a few days. Yeah, you can teach yourself to crochet,or make stained glass art, in a day, right? Online videos are super helpful. Maybe you’ll even deep clean your apartment, and go grocery shopping, properly, for the first time in weeks. You’ll buy vegetables that have to be prepped instead of the hottest insta-ramen you can find and slurping packets of applesauce while telling yourself that it counts as fiber, right? You can cook, and bake! You just haven’t in… a really long time. Maybe you’ll bake an entire cake, and then eat the entire cake. Yeah. You have plans, you think to yourself, pressing your fingerprint to the scanner under your flat’s door handle and pushing the door open when it beeps.

As soon as the door closes with a soft whump, you carefully hang up your blades and pistol holsters on your wall-mounted weapon rack, and then you’re furiously undoing the laces on your knee high leather boots, hopping from one foot to the other as you try to kick them off without actually having to sit down and pull them off. You yank off your socks, then shimmy out of your pants, which you also kick off unceremoniously. You’re going to be positive about this little holiday! You’re so close to being comfortable and staying that way for days. You almost rip your buttons in your haste to remove your shirt, and just as you’ve gotten the last one undone, you finally notice the dark, looming figure in the shadows at the end of your foyer.

You’re in your fucking underpants, barefoot, and your weapons are out of reach due to your current strangulation by your own shirt sleeves.

Heart racing, you throw yourself backward against the door, prepared to make a strategic retreat and escape into the building’s hallway to buy yourself some time to free yourself from your shirt, no matter the cost to your pride at being caught out in your underwear, when familiar scarlet-ink tendrils of energy gently wrap themselves around your waist and softly lift you in the air. You find yourself kicking and squirming like a kitten picked up by the scruff of its neck.

“The fuck, Sylus?” you choke out.

“Why are you still struggling, when you can clearly see that it’s me? Cease, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Why are you using your evol on me without my consent?” you retort, wriggling some more for good measure simply because he told you to stop.

“To prevent you from giving your neighbors the show of their lives without even charging admission,” he responds languidly, eyes the color of sunlight filtering through a glass of wine drifting from your probably red, sweaty face down your barely clothed body.

“Oh, they don’t get a free show, but you do?” you sneer, continuing to struggle to no effect.

“Look at yourself,” Sylus commands, and turns his head as if bored. You note absently that he’s wearing a ruby stud earring in his ear... the one that matches the earring in your own ear. So you never bothered to take it out. That doesn’t mean anything—you’re just lazy. You refuse to think about it anymore deeply than that, and then notice that Sylus not only looks bored, but also looks almost… offended? You do as he asks, and see that his evol is wrapping itself around your body in such a way that its bright-dark tendrils are covering all of your exposed, sensitive areas like a fluid robe.

“Oh,” is all you can think to say.

“Oh, indeed.” He continues to look away from you, aggressively bored, but his evol gently lowers you enough so that your bare feet rest on the ground, and then it loosens, but remains swirling around you.

“Then I’ll… just go get dressed.” You begin making your past him, but stop when you see him nonchalantly hold up a large, elegant shopping bag. It’s black, with some brand name you don’t recognize written in flowy silver script. “What is this?” You look from the bag to his face. He deigns to look at you again. Your eyes drift to his other ear, and you see that where it is pierced is empty.

“Wardrobe options,” is all he says, jerking you out of trying to puzzle out this opaque maniac’s intentions. You take the bag from him and quickly walk to your bathroom. No way you’re going to put on new clothes while feeling filthy from a long day and night of annihilating wanderers. His evol dissipates the moment your bathroom door shuts behind you.

It’s becoming a pattern. Thinking the worst of him, only to be proven wrong. But you don’t know how to overcome the cognitive dissonance of Sylus from your first meeting, and this Sylus who seems intent on taking care of you better than you take care of yourself.

You rinse off as quickly as you can in the shower, towel yourself dry, and take a peek in the bag that he gave you. The first thing you see is a black…? You lift it out of the bag, and it unfolds into a very large sweater. It’s thick, the fabric obviously of high quality. You touch it gently, running your hands along a sleeve—is it cashmere? It’s unbelievably soft. It’s probably a nightmare to wash. On impulse, you lift it to your nose, and take a deep breath.

Your suspicion is confirmed. It smells like him. This isn’t a brand new piece of clothing. This is one of Sylus’s own sweaters that he has worn before. The scent of his clean skin, the sharp tang of gunmetal, the bright burst of citrus, probably from some ridiculously expensive shampoo or body wash. The mix sends a thrill through your entire body: after only a few encounters, you already have bone-deep associations with the way Sylus smells. Fear and adrenaline, yes, but also anticipation—and bizarrely, safety. Instead of feeling terrified, you feel the way you would before riding a roller coaster. Yes, you’ll be screaming and holding on for dear life the whole ride, but you are also inexplicably convinced that in the end, you’ll have your feet firmly planted on the ground, safe again. A part of you whispers that it’s safer to avoid the roller coaster altogether—bolts come loose, wheels pull free from the track, tragic accidents happen all the time. But standing here in your humid bathroom, bone-weary from the day behind you, sniffing Sylus’s unwashed sweater makes you feel more alive than you’ve felt in a very long time.

You pull his sweater over your head, and you’re basically swimming it, it’s so big. The collar is big enough that it threatens to fall off one shoulder. But it’s so soft. And cozy. You hug yourself, and peek into the bag again. There are a few more sweaters, each dark with varying degrees of dramatic flair. This is part of Sylus’s wardrobe, after all. But there are also little sleep shorts, like the ones you were wearing the last time he invaded your home. You pick up a pair—no way would they fit on his big ass. You try, so, so, so very hard not to picture his thick cake stuffed into these tiny shorts.

You fail.

Your brain short circuits for a few seconds.

When it comes back online, you lift out a pair, and the fabric glides silkily along your skin. You’re pretty sure these are silk. They’re black, because of course, but they also have little red … happy pomegranates? Dotted along the hems. They’re adorable. You pull them on over your own bare ass and the sweater-shorts combo is probably the softest thing you’ve ever had on your body. The sweater swallows the shorts and makes it look like you’re wandering around without bottoms on.

You look at yourself in the mirror, silently telling yourself that you shouldn’t get on this particular ride. You don’t know where the track leads, and it scares you. What if it ends over a cliff, and the last thing you ever see is Sylus’s triumphant, cruel face looking down at you as you fall? There are other, less risky rides, certainly ones without wanted posters, right? Right? On second thought, you don’t even have to go the amusement park at all. You’re just fine with trying to get some fucking sleep, with continuing to hone your combat skills, with just trying to be a good person despite really liking knives and being an enthusiastic hunter.

But maybe you can just. Be friends with the roller coaster? Like, you don’t have to ride him. IT. THE ROLLER COASTER. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO RIDE THE ROLLER COASTER. You can just, watch it from a safe distance. You might indulge in little fantasies about what it’s like to ride… the roller coaster. And honestly, fantasies are almost always a hell of a lot better than the reality ever turns out to be. Not to mention! Sylus has never directly expressed any desire to ride … your roller coaster. Sure, he shows up unannounced and cares for you in ways that no one ever has, and he touches you a lot for someone who has no physical interest in you, but physical isn’t necessarily sexual, right? Maybe it’s an evol thing, and the way he touches you has to do with why you both find yourself inexplicably connected for periods of time. Like charging a battery. The point is! There will be no tickets to either ride, thank you, you aren’t open for business and he definitely does not have the proper safety inspection certificates in order, so. No.

You nod firmly to yourself in the mirror. This should be fine. You can be friends with Sylus. You don’t have to let him drag you over a cliff. Maybe you can learn a thing or two from him—he seems to be pretty competent at a lot of things that might be useful for certain aspects of your job. Like intimidating people. And exploding people with a thought and twitch of his fingers. And convincing them to do things they don’t want to do by sheer force of obnoxiousness.

Having sufficiently deluded yourself into believing that your plan of action has a chance of success, you slip out of the bathroom and find Sylus in the kitchen, next to a pretty wine glass that you certainly do not recall owning on the kitchen island.

He’s slicing strawberries with a very sharp knife that you do recall owning, because you do spend quite a lot of time sharpening the set it belongs to. They’re not kitchen knives, per se; you actually have them for work and they are really nice to throw. You already had so many knives before you moved into this place that you didn’t see the necessity of spending more money on probably inferior kitchen knives. But the large, really nice butcher block-style cutting board that he’s chopping the fruit on is not yours. And neither are the delicately arranged variety of cheeses, thinly sliced meat, and savory tarts set in puff pastry that fill up most of the cutting board. And lastly, you do not recall purchasing two bottles of what look like red wine sitting next to the wine glass, nor cleaning your kitchen so thoroughly that Zayne could probably perform surgery in here without worrying about risk of infection.

Despite your presence standing at the island before him now, he continues to serenely slice the ever-growing pile of fruit.

“Sylus?”

“Have a seat,” he says, not looking up.

“Oh, why thank you for offering such hospitality to me, in my own home,” you mutter, pulling out one of the wooden bar stools at the kitchen island. You’re about to sit down when you realize that the repetitive chop of the knife has stopped, and you look up to find Sylus frozen with the knife mid-slice in a fat strawberry. His eyes drift from your neck and exposed shoulder, down the soft expanse of sweater, to your bare legs, and then back again. You’re suddenly self-conscious—he’s the one who gave you these clothes. And now he’s staring at you like a wanderer is about to burst out of your chest.

“Did I misunderstand the assignment or something?” you ask, plopping down on the bar stool in the hopes of breaking him out of whatever weird trance he’s apparently glitching in. He swallows, flicks a final look at your shoulder, and then goes back to slicing.

“I’m simply shocked that you actually did as you were told, for once,” he responds, seemingly unruffled again. “You should also put one of the sweaters in your go bag as a backup in the event that your uniform gets destroyed, again, which it does at an alarming rate these days. The Association’s overheads for keeping you clothed must be in the stratosphere.”

“Mm, yes I’m sure you’re very concerned about the costs of doing business for the Association.” You rest your head in your hand, propped up by your elbow on the counter. The two of you sit in companionable silence for a while, with only the snick of the knife filling the space between you. The lights underneath your cabinets are on, emitting a soft warm glow from below, but you notice that he hasn’t put on the harsher, brighter overhead lights. The city’s skyline blinks serenely like an endless fleet of starships in the dark expanse of space through your windows, and a cool breeze wafts in from time to time.

Finally, Sylus is done, and he carefully rinses the knife in the sink and sets it on the counter. He turns back to you.

“No interrogation regarding why I’m here this time?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s wearing a light sweater in a deep grey, of a style quite similar to the one you’re now wearing. He looks domestic, and delicious, and you tell yourself sternly that he is friend shaped, you will not ride the Sylus roller coaster, you will not ride the Sylus roller coaster—

You have to say something. “Oh, are you missing my very effective questioning techniques? Sadly, I left my handcuffs at the office,” you lift your shoulders in a what can you do? gesture, and his eyes follow your bare shoulder again.

“Handcuffs aren’t the only means of restraint available to a truly resourceful hunter,” he says, shaking his head as if disappointed.  “Your lack of imagination is boring.”

“Okay, Sylus. But only because you’re basically begging for it: why are you here?”  You lift a puff pastry and brandish it at him like a knife. “Answer honestly, or you’ll really get it this time!” You take a big, aggressive bite as if to illustrate what he’s got coming to him in case of his non-compliance, and then moan because what the fuck, this is so good, is it goat cheese and honey? And suddenly you’re devouring it, licking your fingers clean when you’re done because you can’t get enough.

“This definitely counts as an enhanced interrogation technique.” His voice is low, and has a rough quality to it that normally isn’t there. You glance up from slobbering all over your fingers and find that he’s staring at you in what is probably disgust.

“Ha, yes, and I’ll keep subjecting you to it until you tell me what you’re doing in my home, again. And how did you even get in? I never got you a key.” You finish licking yourself like an animal and reach for a strawberry. If he’s going to play chef in your kitchen, who are you to refuse to enjoy the literal fruits of his labor? You just live here and pay the damn rent.

He holds up the index finger of his right hand, which is sporting a band-aid that you recognize as one of the same kind you have in your first-aid kit. They’re super cute, with a design of sad little cartoon mushrooms. “I was at my accountant’s, which happens to be in this neighborhood, and I got a paper cut while signing some documents.”

You pause before biting into the berry. “You… came to my flat. With extra clothing, wine, wine glasses, and various appetizers, in order to get a band-aid for your paper cut. Is this a correct summary of events?” You decide you’re not going to wait for him to answer, and take a big bite of the strawberry, feeling some juice drip down your chin. You catch it with your index finger, and then suck the juice off after you’re done chewing.

There is a long pause, and you look up to find him staring intently at your finger. You widen your eyes and wave your hand in the universal gesture of hurry the fuck up, get on with it already? He closes his eyes for a moment and breathes deeply. Apparently you’re so horrifying to witness eating that he needs to seek some zen before he can answer. It’s not your fault that he brought you half of his wardrobe and wine glasses but didn’t think to bring any napkins. “Yes, that is a correct summary of events,” is all he offers.

You look at him.

He looks back at you, occasionally flicking his gaze down to your mouth and back to your eyes. You consider baring your teeth at him just in case he wants an eyeful of the strawberry undoubtedly stuck in them, but refrain because you’re polite.

“Okay. Do you care to explain the motivation behind these events?” you ask slowly, thinking that maybe you will brandish a real knife at him to hurry up this so-called interrogation so you can straight up devour the rest of this charcuterie board that this wanted criminal has inexplicably prepared in your kitchen.

Fortunately, you don’t have to go for the knife, because he begins to speak. “There was a wine merchant that looked rather appealing on the way to your place. Since you revealed a deplorable lack of discernment when it comes to selecting a good bottle of wine the last time you hosted me, I thought I’d do my civic duty for the week and educate the less fortunate on how to choose, and enjoy, a decent bottle of wine.”

“I see.” You nod slowly. “That’s very civic-minded of you. You’re truly a model citizen. And the food?”

“It’s not wise to have a wine tasting without something to eat. Otherwise, you might find yourself making questionable decisions. We wouldn’t want that, would we, sweetie?” he seems to have recovered from his nausea at watching you wolf down food, because he says this with a playful lift of a silver eyebrow.

“Because letting a man whose baggage includes a wanted poster into my home whenever he wants could hardly be considered a good decision, and I made that one while sober,” you sigh. “I see your point.”

“Exactly. Just imagine what kind of trouble you could get into after a bottle of wine on an empty stomach?” He tilts his head to the side, and runs a middle finger slowly over his brow.

You shudder, because his big hands. You can’t pursue this line of thought.

“And the clothes?”

“Now you won’t need to borrow your partner’s clothes in case of an emergency. And I’ll have something to wear at my safe house in case you decide to assault me with beverages again.”

“That was one time. And if you don’t show up, then there’s no chance you’ll be assaulted. Therefore, no need for a change of clothes. And, pardon me, but your safe house? I think you meant, my flat. But what you’re telling me is that the whole reason you were coming to my flat in the first place was to put a band-aid on your boo-boo.”

He lowers his hand and begins running his thumb along his lower lip. “Even a small cut can turn life-threatening if not treated properly. And I wouldn’t want a scar, now would I? It’s not much of a safe house if I can’t make use of it when in danger of lasting bodily harm.”

“Mmm yes, what with your evol that renders scarring impossible for you, we wouldn’t want your paper cut to cause you lasting bodily harm. And you couldn’t acquire a band-aid at a pharmacy, perhaps like at the one next to the wine merchant I’m pretty sure you’re referring to?” You refuse to look at his big thumb pressing into his thick, soft-looking lower lip. You stare up at the ceiling, and consider cataloguing wanderers in your head to stem the sudden urge to vault over the island counter separating him from you and pulling that damn thumb into your own mouth.

“They didn’t have a box containing such cute little designs. I never knew I wanted anthropomorphized fungus to decorate a bandage intended to protect an open wound until I saw your own box.”

It takes you a second to remember what the hell the two of your were discussing when you realize he’s talking about your adorable little mushroom band-aids.

“A wine snob, and a band-aid snob.”

“I prefer the term cultured, but yes, I’ve told you before. Life is too short to waste on the inferior. Your sad little champignons surpass all others.”

He’s done it again. He has hardly even moved this entire time, and has managed to exhaust you to the point of blissful indifference. He shows up unannounced, rifles through your first aid kit, decides what you’re going to wear both this evening and in the future when you need a spare change of clothes, and has prepared an hors d’oeuvre spread worthy of at least a mid-ranged restaurant for you to eat while offering you a wine tasting? Fine. “Okay,” you say, reaching for another one of those puff pastries.

He watches you steadily for a few moments, as if trying to sense a trap. “That’s it?”

You shrug. “Sure. I told you that you could use my house if you needed it. I’ve just learned my lesson: next time I’ll be very careful in drafting the conditions of any deal we make, since your interpretation of certain terms appears to vary wildly from any reasonable person’s.”

“I think I’m quite reasonable,” he examines his nails. “I come bearing gifts, and this is how you show your gratitude? By insinuating that I'm unreasonable?”

Another thought occurs to you. “How did you even get in, Sylus?”

“Ah,” he says, squinting and looking out the window, as if contemplating a very deep philosophical question. “While you were sleeping last time… I took the liberty of adding my fingerprint to your door’s fingerprint scanner.”

What. The. Fuck. “What. The. Fuck.”

“Again, it’s not much of a safe house if I can’t access it without your presence. I didn’t think you’d mind. It’s not like I can’t just use my evol to teleport into your place anyway, but I thought you’d appreciate me coming through the front door. Fewer feathers. You didn’t seem to like cleaning those up the last time I teleported out of your place.”

You just stare at him. How would he even know that you cursed him, loudly, as you were mopping up the mess of blood and feathers he generously left in your entryway after being shot? And then it comes to you. Mephisto. Of course. You pinch the bridge of your nose, and visualize violently shaking that bird until his circuits are rewired.

Sylus continues, ignoring your mounting rage. “Come to think of it, we should probably upgrade your locks, kitten. It was laughably easy to override the system and add my print as authorized for entry.”

Forget riding the Sylus coaster—you think that maybe he isn’t even friend shaped after all. He might just have slid right back to enemy shaped. Frenemy shaped? Where does a frenemy lie on the spectrum of “fuck his brains out” to “polite, but distant acquaintances?” But then you remember that it’s not a linear spectrum, and fucking his brains out is not mutually exclusively to being mortal enemies. You’ve read enough enemies-to-lovers romances to know that perfectly well, so even if he is enemy shaped… you shudder. Why are you like this? You redirect your self-disgust and deflect, like a true emotionally well-adjusted adult:

“Why can’t you be normal? Like, do you do anything like a normal person?”

“Why would I pretend to be normal when I’m so obviously extraordinary?” he scoffs, looking at you like you’re the unhinged one in this little situationship.

 “Sylus.”

“Yes, my heart’s delight?”

You stare at him, and he gazes back at you, leaning leisurely back against your counter, arms folded and long fingers slowly tapping out a rhythm on one bulky bicep. You know that if you remove his authorization on your locks that he will just teleport himself right into your place, and you’ll be endlessly cleaning up feathers. And you also really don’t want your neighbors to wonder who the hell the creep is loitering around your door at all hours of the night and then start asking questions if he actually honors your request not to simply appear in your place on a whim. You did previously offer him a key. Which he declined. Apparently because he was already planning this. You run your hand along the back of your neck in an effort to relieve some tension. “You can’t just let yourself into my place anytime you want. There need to be rules.”

“Fair enough. Provided that they’re not moronic, I can follow your rules.”

“And who decides whether they’re moronic or not?” you ask, knowing the answer.

He just smiles at you, radiating satisfaction.

“Okay. Rule number one—” you begin, only to be interrupted as he lifts a finger.

“I’ll follow your rules, if you promise to taste the wine I brought with me tonight.”

Even though you had already resigned yourself to whatever he had in store for you tonight, you can’t help arguing at this little added condition. “No, the deal is, you can use my flat, with your fingerprint, when you need it, if you follow the rules,” you huff.

He starts shaking his head. “I’m afraid not, kitten. You should have set rules at the beginning of our deal. You can’t just impose new conditions halfway through. A deal’s a deal. I suggest keeping that in mind the next time you have to deal with anyone else less… generous, than myself,” he intones, as if you’re a somewhat lacking student in need of instruction.

“So you’ll follow the rules if I promise to… taste wine tonight?” you ask, hoping that you can catch him out on a technicality and beat him at his own game. He considers for a moment, but must see something in your expression, because his eyes narrow and his smile widens to reveal his sharp canines.

“I’ll follow your reasonable, and not moronic, rules if you promise to taste the wine I brought tonight, with me,” he says.

You need to work on your poker face. You need to get Sylus to teach you how to improve it. Ugh.

“Fine.” If this means more food can happen soon, and honestly, yeah, a glass of wine, you’ll accept anything at this point.

He straightens from the counter and claps his hands once, looking more eager than you think you’ve ever seen him. “Excellent, let’s begin.”

“You didn’t even wait to hear what the rules are,” you protest, watching him fish out a wine corkscrew from his trouser pocket. It looks heavy, with a handsome wooden handle, and the stainless steel flashes under the soft lights.

“Send them in a text, I’ll redline them and return them to you, you can counter, and so on and so forth until we have an agreement. Like any proper contract negotiation. For now, it’s wine time.”

And with that, he sets to work opening the wine, humming a little tune so off-key that you have no idea what melody it’s supposed to be. It occurs to you that you’ve never used a corkscrew as a weapon, but as Sylus uses the small blade to slice through the foil covering the neck of the bottle, and then unfolds the lethal-looking twisted screw and begins expertly driving it into the cork, you realize that it could come in really handy in a fight. And there’s something else that’s really appealing to you—the combination of the contained savagery of the corkscrew, the assured movements of Sylus’s hands, the penetration of the cork—you feel a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the sweater you’re wearing.

“See something you like, kitten?” Sylus’s smoky voice drifts into your thoughts, and you look up, realizing you’ve been unabashedly staring at his beautiful hands, again, and the corkscrew, with undivided focus for the past few moments, and he has noticed.

You clear your throat, and then gesture weakly at the corkscrew. “That’s uh, a very nice looking wine opener.” You nod to emphasize your very normal approval of this very normal household item, because you are not thinking any thoughts about Sylus’s huge hands or screwing or penetration. None.

“Good eye. I’m rather fond of this model. I’ll have one delivered to you,” he says as he firmly pulls the cork from the bottle with a soft pop. He sets it on the counter, and picks up the other bottle.

“Oh, that’s not necessary. I’m sure it didn’t escape your notice that the kind of wine I drink tends to come with a screw cap instead of a cork,” you decline, shaking your head. You can buy your own damn self a corkscrew for tucking into your pocket if you ever find yourself at a wine bar that doesn’t allow patrons to be armed, but you anticipate needing some kind of weapon.

“Refuse me all you want,” he murmurs, and you feel like there’s an implied part of that sentence that he’s just not saying out loud. But then he’s repeating the opening process with the second bottle, and you suddenly find the night view outside your window immensely fascinating, because whatever is continuing to happen in front of you is just. Boring. Utterly sleep-inducing. You can’t look or else you might just pass out from the tedium of it before you even get to taste the wine. And a deal’s a deal, as Sylus is fond of repeating ad nauseum.

After hearing the soft pop of the other bottle, you sigh and turn back to find Sylus holding the wine glass and pouring the first bottle’s wine along the inside of the glass until it reaches the widest part of the bowl. For the first time, you notice that there’s only one glass on the counter. But before you can comment, Sylus begins to lecture.

“Now, if this were an ideal tasting, I’d have brought a decanter to let the wine breathe properly for an appropriate period of time before pouring. We'd also be using a container for spitting each mouthful out in between tastes, to avoid the intoxication and poor decisions I mentioned earlier and interfering with our judge of taste. But since we only have two bottles to try, and it’s just you and me here, I took the gamble that you wouldn’t mind if we were a little less formal.”  

You wait to see if he has any other fun facts to share, but he’s looking at you to confirm that indeed, you can live with not waiting even longer to taste this wine that better have gold leaf flakes in it or something to justify this amount of ceremony and can also live with not… spitting out said wonder wine after tasting it.

But you recognize that Sylus appears to be truly passionate about this, and he’s looking at you so earnestly—you do not have the heart to meet his sincerity with sarcasm, when he's so sweetly trying to teach you something new.

“Your gamble paid off. I don’t mind at all,”  you say, meaning it. He perks up and gives you one of his almost smiles, with just the corners of his generous mouth lifted. He then proceeds to explain, in great detail, what type of wine this is, where the grapes for it are grown, its signature characteristics, what year it was bottled, and how it was received by the international wine community. It’s all actually quite interesting, except once again, right now you’re at the end of a long day, you’ve run the gauntlet of interacting with this unpredictable force of nature walking around in the body of an extremely attractive man, and you feel like you should be taking notes to actually retain any of this information.

After he seems to have informed you to his satisfaction and is looking at you expectantly, you nod. “That is… very fascinating. So how do we go about actually tasting it?” You might be an uncultured heathen, but even before Sylus’s lecture, you knew there are rules when it comes to tasting wine. You just always had other things you needed to learn first, like the weakest spots on a wanderer or human body. Or the best method of sharpening knives for the sharpest edge. Or how to clean guns to prevent jamming. How to affix a scope on a sniper rifle and measure the effect of wind speed and direction on a bullet’s trajectory. Or whether you should use baking soda or baking powder as leavener when baking certain kinds of cake. You have priorities. But tonight, it seems, is the night for you to learn about wine.

Before he answers, he moves around the kitchen island to where you’re still seated on the bar stool and leans down, gently spinning your stool so that you’re facing him instead of the counter. He then pushes the one next to you closer and seats himself. Even sitting, you have to look up into his face. You suddenly realize that the way he has positioned the stools puts him so close to you that his long legs don’t have anywhere to go—he just spreads them so that one is stretched out on one side of you, and the other is between your own, his knee incredibly close to your lap. If you shift forward even a little, you could grind on him.

Why is he doing this to you? What does he want? But then it occurs to you that Sylus has never seemed to either recognize or respect boundaries like a normal person—maybe this is just how he interacts with his friends. Constant, small touches, no sense of personal space. You wonder if he and the twins huddle together on the couch, sharing a blanket, while watching something on television.

So maybe you’re the freak, imagining riding this poor guy’s meaty thigh when he’s only just trying to share his appreciation of a sophisticated beverage with you. You close your eyes. It doesn’t matter whether he’s playing this little game on purpose or not. You refuse to let him see how much his proximity is affecting you, because then he wins. You don’t know what he wins exactly, but you will beat him before you let him have it. You try to think about his big hand choking you, but instead of having the intended effect of reminding you why you should never even consider buying tickets to the safety hazard now wedged between your thighs, it has … unforeseen consequences instead. What has this man done to you?!

You open your eyes, reach across the counter and grab a handful of carefully cut pieces of cheese, and then promptly stuff them all into your mouth at once. When in crisis, cheese is always a good solution. Except for maybe the blue cheese you accidentally mixed in with the Manchego or whatever-the-fancy-fuck he brought with him. Aaaand now you’re going to smell like blue cheese for the rest of the night.

You stare at him defiantly as you chew with puffed cheeks, and brace yourself for whatever is coming next. He side eyes you, face impassive.

You’re expecting some biting comment, but “Well, that’s one way to make sure you’ve eaten enough to absorb the alcohol,” is all he says. He slowly slides the glass with two fingers along the base across the counter until it’s sitting between the two of you. “Whenever you manage to finish inhaling all that dairy, we’ll be sure that we’ve given the wine enough time to breathe.” He pauses. “It occurs to me now that while I was preparing the food, I didn’t think to ask if you’re lactose intolerant.”

You deliberately chew as slowly as you can, making him wait as a punishment for making you feel things that you should not be feeling. When you’ve swallowed, you shake your head. “Fortunately, not one of my many flaws.”

“It’s not a flaw.” He shrugs. “How can anything you can’t control about your body be a flaw? And Luke and Kieran are lactose intolerant, so I always have lactase enzyme tablets on me to avoid… unwanted consequences when they decide to have a cheese tasting contest.”

You cock your head. “A what now?”

 He rubs his middle finger between his eyebrows. “Yeah, they can’t help themselves from making a competition out of every single human activity, so on the nights the chef prepares a cheese board with dinner, they try to outmatch each other regarding who can identify the most flavors of cheeses without cheating by asking the chef or querying Mephisto or searching online. Or asking me, because I’m undefeated.”

You stare at him, and think if there’s ever any universe in which you voluntarily return to the base where Sylus kept you captive for days and touched you like he owned you, hand violently clasped in his, where you were terrified for your life, exhausted and confused… and if you ever have a friendly enough relationship with the chaos twins, you’re going to practice your ass off so that if you’re ever invited to such a competition, you can wipe the floor with them. Their cheese-off sounds fun.

Your train of thought is derailed as it registers how smug the last thing he said was. “You’re undefeated,” you repeat, giving him a chance to redeem himself. “At identifying cheeses by taste.”

“And smell, yes. So I’m not allowed to play anymore. My palate is too refined, and they know they don’t stand a chance.”

Oh, you’re definitely going to start sampling cheese every week. You cannot let this smugness stand.

“Ah yes, his royal snobness and his impeachable palate,” you roll your eyes. “Now, will his grace the Duke of Gouda please get on with the wine instruction?” You would give him a little mock bow, but that would put your face right in his formidable cleavage and you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from motorboating his unfairly huge pecs. Ugh.

He snorts. “Finally, you’re showing me some long-overdue respect.”

You nod gravely, thankful that the aether core in his eye is not currently delving the depths of your depravity. It’s time to focus. On wine.

“So why do you have to let wine breathe before drinking it?” you ask, because you’re focused.

He looks pleased that you’re interested enough to ask a question. “Much like people, it’s good to expose a greater surface area of the wine to fresh air for a while—it allows undesirable scents and flavors to dissipate, so that it tastes better when you do take a sip than if you drink it straight after opening.”

“Well aren’t you wise, philosophizing about wine and people,” you smile. You find yourself being surprised again and again tonight—at his presence, his bearing gifts, his surprisingly sweet attempt to teach you something, his kind takes on lactose intolerance and what people need to be healthy.

“Did you think I only consist of feathers and spite?” He lifts the wine glass by the stem with one hand, and your hand in his other. He gently wraps your fingers around his own.

“Let’s not forget hubris and violence.” You watch as he gently swirls the wine in the glass held between you. His hand is so warm compared to your own.

“If that’s all, then you still have a lot to learn about me,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t seem offended. Almost as if he’s simply determined. To do what, you’re not sure. “I’d tell you that you should always hold a wine glass by the stem so that the heat from your hand doesn’t affect the temperature of the wine through the glass itself. But your hands are so cold—I don’t think that would be a problem for you. But if you want people to think you’re a connoisseur, you should anyway if you’re ever on an undercover mission. Now, before you take a sip, inhale the scent we’ve just released by swirling the wine.”

You do as you’re told, and lean over, hovering just over the edge of the glass and taking a deep breath. The scent of the wine, warm and deep, fills your senses.

You look up at him and smile again. “It smells really good.”

“Of course,” he lifts the bottom of the glass with his free hand so that you can straighten, and guides your other hand to support the glass while slipping his own from around the stem and allowing you to hold it by yourself. Your hand immediately feels cold again. He leans one elbow on the counter, “I chose it for you. I’m not going to let you drink plonk.”

“Plonk?” What a cute word.

“Shit wine.”

“Mmm, not allowing me to drink shit wine, you’re truly a knight in shining armor.”

“I don’t need armor, kitten. Now that you’ve established that the wine hasn’t gone off by smelling it, you can take a sip.”

You’re about to lift the glass to your lips, when he reaches up and runs his fingertips along your wrist to stop you. “As you do, don’t swallow immediately. Roll the wine with your tongue in your mouth, and try to really think about what flavors you can taste: can you detect the oak from the barrels, earth, tannin, fruit or spices? Is it sweet or dry?”

You nod, mouth suddenly dry. But you follow his instructions and take a slow sip, rolling the rich liquid around in your mouth, and then slowly swallow. A familiar warmth spreads from your stomach, radiating out through your body. His blood bright eyes follow the movement of your lips, your throat. “I taste… fruit.” You pause, trying to appear very serious about finding the perfect description of flavor. You take another sip, close your eyes. “Yes, very fruity notes. Grapes, in particular.”

You open your eyes to find him scowling at you.

“Aren’t you the comedian?” he growls. “I’m going to revoke your wine privileges if you don’t take this seriously. How are you going to feel confident if you ever need this knowledge on a mission? Or on a date?”

You just laugh at him and try to turn a little on the stool, lifting your arm to keep the glass out of his reach, but his knee between your legs prevents you from moving, and he easily leans forward, fingers drifting up the length of your arm to then wrap around your own hand on the stem. He carefully pulls it back between the two of you. Your hand feels warm again. Safely wrapped in his.

“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned my needing to know how to pass as a wine snob on a mission. What kind of missions do you think I’m regularly going on?” You gently lift the glass again, pulling his hand with you, and take another sip. It really does taste so good. You can’t tell if it’s wildly different than the wine you normally get, but you know it doesn’t taste like it’ll leave you with a headache in the morning.

He shrugs. “If we didn’t have to bring the place down when we were at the auction, people would have been watching you at the dinner banquet. What would you have done if people started to notice that you were clutching the wine and swigging it like a drunken toddler and started to suspect that your behavior wasn't matching your cover identity?”

You gasp. “Excuse me, you don’t know how I normally drink my wine!” Who does this bastard think he is? And here you were, thinking he was sweet, sincerely trying to share one of his interests with you. “I don’t need you patronizing me regarding how I’d manage at a formal event or on a date! I’ve been on plenty of dates where I was able to drink wine without driving off my partner.” You try to pull away from him, and the wine sloshes dangerously with your movement.

“Sit still,” he commands, holding your hand tight with his and placing one large palm on your bare thigh. You immediately freeze. “I watched you gulp wine from a mug the last time I was here,” he retorts.

“So you think that just because I don’t care what you think, I can’t read the room and act according to the demands of the situation?” The indignation coursing through you is amplified by the wine spreading through you.

“Then is it fair to say that you didn’t feel the need for any pretense between us last time because you’re so comfortable with me, and not because you’re as civilized as a cactus?” he asks, running his thumb gently back and forth along your inner thigh.

Your brain is being scrambled by his thumb, how close he is to you, his clavicle exposed by the V of his sweater’s neckline, the scent of his warm, clean skin, the wine going to your head after a long exhausting day.

“I’m saying I don’t feel the need to impress you in my own home when you show up uninvited and demand beverages and band aids,” you finally manage. You’re warm. Too warm. “And what’s wrong with being a cactus?”

“Did I say there was something wrong with it? Cacti can survive the harshest conditions on earth and still produce the most beautiful flowers. And they hurt when they stab you.” He smiles like the thought pleases him immensely.

You can’t process this. He says shit like this so easily—he can’t possibly mean it in the way you are trying so hard to deny that you want him to mean it. You refuse to be lured in, only to see the cruel lines of his face when he realizes you have pathetic feelings for him. The man who could as easily rip your spine from your ribcage as offer you a glass of wine, if you lose your usefulness to him. A usefulness you still don’t know the nature of.

You’re suddenly viciously aware of how close he is to you, how he is watching your face with an intensity that makes you feel like the use of his aether core is unnecessary: you’re afraid that he can see everything you’re feeling, and you hate it. You need space. “What are we even doing, Sylus?”

His eyes drift from your eyes to your mouth, and you try very hard to steel your expression, to conceal how utterly raw and exposed he’s making you feel. You can’t tell if you’re successful, when he finally lifts his hand from your thigh and runs the back of his knuckles with such softness along your cheek that it makes you ache. You resist the urge to turn your face and nuzzle his palm.

“We’re tasting wine, sweetheart.” He leans back, pulling the glass of wine you’re still holding with him. He inhales deeply, and then takes a sip, eyes glittering over the rim, watching you. “It is a good vintage. But it’s not the only one I brought.” He guides your joined hands to set the glass on the counter, and then gets up, rounding the counter to rummage in a bag on the floor on the other side. When he stands up, he’s holding another wine glass.

You do a double take. “You brought two glasses?”

He looks from you to the glass in his hand, then back to the glass still on the counter, and then lifts his eyebrows. “Is this a trick question?”

“Why haven’t we been drinking about of separate glasses then?” you demand.

He shrugs. “That glass is for that bottle,” he nods to the glass sitting next to you. “This glass is for this bottle.” He gestures at the other, untasted bottle sitting on the counter. “No need to rinse our glasses in between tastes.”

You want to laugh, and cry. You’re so fucking done with thinking for tonight.

“Okay, Sylus. Whatever you say,” you sigh.

“Oh, I quite like the sound of that,” he smiles, one canine peeking over his lip. “Then you’re going to enjoy the sorbet I brought for us as a palate cleanser.”

He proceeds to go to your freezer, scoop out some of the aforementioned sorbet that has apparently been in there all evening into a bowl, and takes the stool next to you again. This time, he situates one long leg on either side of you, caging you in. He takes a spoonful and offers it to you. “This will help rinse your palate so that you can taste the next bottle without any lingering effects of the other.”

You look from his seemingly guileless face to the spoonful of sorbet. Yup, you’re really done thinking for tonight. You lean forward and open your lips. He slips the lemon sorbet into your mouth. His eyes remain on your lips as he pulls the spoon away, dips it back into the sorbet, and brings it to his own mouth.

After he continues to trade spoonfuls with you until the sorbet is gone, he pours the second glass of wine, and you both take turns sipping it in companionable silence.

“Now tell me. Which one is your favorite?” he asks after you’ve finished the second glass, and return to the first to finish it as well.

“I like them both,” you shrug. “Sorry for not having a more sophisticated answer.” You’re feeling drowsy and loose. He can walk off a tall building for all you care if he doesn’t like your answer.

“They’re both excellent wines. Each one is suited for multiple situations or meal combinations. They’re versatile, just like you are. And I don’t require any particular answer, except your honest one. I think you already know that you don’t need to put on an act for me, ever.”

You rest your elbow on the counter, mirroring his position, and rest your head in your hand. “Why would I pretend with you, if you can just force the truth out of me?”

“I will never do that to you.”

You look away. “You’ve already done it to me once before. What else is there to hide, when you’ve seen the ugliest parts of me?”

“I will not do it again. Not unless you ask me to,” he says so solemnly that you’re tempted to be a fool and believe him. “And is that what you think? That what I saw was ugly?”

You sit up, take the glass from him and knock back the rest of the wine in one gulp. You can't do this right now. You can't think about the the violent hunger, the savage thirst, that his eye brought from the depths of your soul when he forced his way into your deepest, darkest desires the night you met. The extent of how much you wanted to kill him, and make it hurt, when you thought he had killed Caleb and your grandmother. How you still feel that hunger and rage, with every wanderer you kill, every time you hope some dealer in modified protocores resists arrest so you can put them down, with prejudice.

“I’m tired, Sylus. Thank you for the lesson. Now I can successfully fool rich assholes at upscale dens of corruption and unsuspecting dates into believing that I’m a sophisticated connoisseur of overpriced beverages, and swindle them all. And I’ll never horrify you again by swigging wine out of a mug like a drunken toddler. You should invoice the Association for your services. In the meantime, I’m going to try to get some sleep.”

“I see. You’re still on guard, and defensive, when you're drunk too. How fascinating.” He narrows his eyes, not seeming to get the hint that you want him to leave now.

“I’m not drunk. I’m maybe tipsy, and I’m fucking tired. I’m going to bed.”

“All right,” he says easily. He stands and begins tidying up the counter.

“All right,” you repeat, feeling a little dizzy, a little empty. “You know where the door is.”

“As you say,” he says serenely, pulling out food storage containers you also didn’t realize you own and packing the food away.

“Thanks again,” you say, because you are polite, dammit. You make your way into the bathroom and begin getting ready for bed. When you emerge, your flat is dark. The kitchen looks pristine in the streetlight drifting in through the windows. You stare for a moment longer, wondering if maybe he’s finally given up on whatever his agenda with you is after your little emotional display tonight, and he’ll stop coming by now. You’re fine with that. Maybe this is what you’ve needed to do all along. Get drunk and sloppy. Guarded, defensive, he called you. What an asshole.

You pad into the bedroom, yawning, pulling up your phone to look at it as you walk. Maybe you should try listening to audiobooks to try to help with the insomnia. Like, boring ones with deep, sexy voiced narrators who can bore you to sleep like Sylus did the other night. You crawl onto the bed, and then—

“The fuck, Sylus?”

He’s sitting in the middle of your bed, sweater off and replaced by… nothing. Just the expanse of his big, creamy chest. And he’s wearing a pair of silky looking loose, black pyjama pants. An impossibly soft looking line of silver hair drifts from his tight navel, disappearing under his waistband. His gold-rimmed glasses are perched on his nose, like last time, and he’s scrolling through something on his tablet. He glances up at you, but then goes back to his… spreadsheets?

“Haven’t we already been through that little routine tonight?” he asks, and yawns. “I’m getting déjà vu.”

“What. Are. You. Doing?” you seethe.

“Going over the financials from the meeting with my accountant today.”

“Why?” You just sit there on your knees, on your bed, gaping at him like an idiot.

“To ensure that my next acquisition is suited to purpose.”

“What?”

His gaze flicks to you, and he pushes the glasses further up his nose. “Well, I made a promise that I wouldn’t change a thing about my latest business venture, so now I need to ensure that the next chain of businesses I acquire can serve one of the functions I had intended for the arcades.”

“What function is that?” you ask, curious now, despite yourself.

“Well, one of two primary functions,” he amends, tapping his temple thoughtfully with a finger.

“Okay,” you say slowly, inviting him to continue.

“Money laundering.”

You shake your head. “Come again?”

“Oh, I’ll be happy to. Thank you for the invitation. I wasn’t sure I’d ever receive one again, what with your heavily implied dismissal earlier.”

“Sylus!”

“Yes, my most precious gem?”

“What do you mean you intended to use the arcades for money laundering?” You want to cry even thinking about it.

“To be fair, after you asked me so sweetly not to change a thing, I immediately agreed. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“But that’s why you wanted to buy them?” How many times can a heart hurt in one night?

“I said that was one of the two primary reasons I wanted those arcades,” he says, reaching out with one hand and softly stroking your knee.

You look down, watching his calloused fingers drifting so sweetly across your skin. How can this man be so cruel and so gentle at the same time?

“What was the other reason, then?”

“Guess.”

“I’m done playing games with you tonight, Sylus.”

“When was I playing a game tonight?”

“Fine, don’t tell me. Just promise again that you won’t change anything about my favorite arcade.”

He sets the tablet on his lap, and reaches over to grasp your hand. He links your pinkie with his, and lifts it to his lips. “I already promised. And I promise again.” He seals the promise with a brush of his lips, and then rests both of your hands on the bed between you.

You don’t know why, and you will probably never know why, but you believe him right now. It’s clear that no matter what you do, he will not be leaving tonight without great violence on your part, and once again, you’re just too tired to fight him anymore. He reads your body like a damn book, because he silently hands you the glass of water that was sitting next to him on the nightstand. "Even if you're not drunk, but only maybe just a little tipsy," he says, doing an awful imitation of your voice. "You should still drink some water so you don't feel terrible in the morning."

Perhaps because of your easy compliance with his reasonable advice by simply taking the water and drinking it, he seems to deem it safe to pull you into his side. You go down, resting your head on his thick shoulder, and let your gaze wander over his tablet.

“So what are you thinking of buying this time?” you ask, yawning.

 He shifts, lifting your head so that he can wrap his arm around you, repositioning you so that you’re tucked a little closer under his chin, cheek resting against his chest. “A chain of casinos.”

“Casinos?” you laugh softly. “That’s on brand, I guess.”

“Mmhmm.” He runs his fingertips absently along your arm, from wrist to elbow and back again. “Lots of money changing hands. Ideal for functioning as a washing machine for the dirty proceeds from the weapons business, which comes out clean in the pockets of lucky winners.”

“You make your living profiting off the worst in people, you know that?” you ask sleepily, the numbers on the screen blurring.

“They’ll continue being terrible, with or without my involvement. I don’t make them take the bet, or pull the trigger. And if I don't, someone else will put the chip or gun in their hands. Might as well be me collecting the paycheck.”

“Maybe, through the power of friendship, I can change your mind,” you murmur. You don’t think you’ll need that audiobook to fall asleep tonight.

“Friendship, huh?” Sylus asks, but when he looks down at you, he sees that you’ve already fallen asleep. He traces the long sweep of your eyelashes across your cheeks with his eyes, feels your measured, calm breath drifting across his skin. He gently touches one finger to the ruby earring you haven’t taken out yet. The thrill of satisfaction he felt when you answered the door still wearing it would sustain him for weeks. He is absolutely certain that it won’t be the power of friendship that’s going to change him.

He pulls you a little closer into his chest, snorts when he feels you begin to drool onto his pec, and continues scrolling through his tablet.

That night, you dream. You’re walking through your childhood home—but not your childhood home from before your memories, because you will never know what that home looked like. This one, the home from your earliest memories, with its wood panelling on the walls, old-fashioned lace curtains in the windows that you can’t see out of, because it’s pitch black beyond the glass. Hallways lengthening at the same pace as you can walk down them, boots echoing on the polished hardwood floor. You walk and walk, and you can never reach the end. Doors that won’t open, but you know Caleb might be behind them, because in your dream logic, his bedroom is behind every door you pass. You turn the handles, but they remain locked. Sometimes you think you can hear the sound of someone biting into an apple, crisp flesh giving way to sharp teeth, but the door won’t open no matter how hard you throw yourself against it. You hear your grandmother speaking, just around every corner, but you can’t understand what she’s saying. You follow the sound, and every time you think that she’s just around the next turn in the hall, the corridor stretches in front of you again, empty.

You have been in this empty house for years now, and you’re afraid that you’ll never be able to get out. But you’re more afraid that once you get out, you’ll never hear them making these particular sounds again, this slim proof of their existence echoing through the empty hallways.

Slowly, you wake up, and in that endless moment caught between your dream and reality, it’s just peaceful and black—you are coming from somewhere so far away toward something you know will hurt, and you’re not ready to feel that yet. But then a feeling of suffocation is overwhelming you, and you open your eyes to realize you’re literally being smothered by a very big, very warm body.

The relief you feel, the gratitude, that Sylus is still here, that you aren’t waking up alone, again, from the nightmare in your sleep to the reality that the nightmare is real, and you’ll never be able to see your family again, is more overwhelming than your current need for oxygen. Sylus is still here, and the yawning emptiness you were carrying with you for what felt like years during that long dream dissipates in the warmth of his body against yours. You can’t help yourself. Your throw your arm that isn’t being crushed by him over his torso and hug him tightly to you, giving in to the urge to nuzzle his chest and just listen to his steady heartbeat.

You lie like that for awhile, blissfully listening to his soft breathing, when suddenly you realize that pressed so close to him, you can feel every contour of his body, from your chest against his abdomen, his muscular, silk-covered thigh wedged between your legs, and his apparently very, very big dick pressing into your hip.

You freeze, feeling like the creep you have accused him several times of being. He’s just sleeping, and you’ve plastered yourself against him like a vacuum sealed burrito. You have absolutely no business being utterly thrilled that this part of him matches the rest of him in terms of size and intimidation. You will not be taking this joy stick for a test drive. You can get out of this. You’re a very good hunter, and you can evade detection and make a tactical retreat when necessary. And it’s very necessary right now, because you do not want him to wake up and find you attached to him like a love-sick leech.

Slowly, sooo slowly, you slide your arm from where it is slung over his waist, and begin to incrementally scooch backwards, his leg slipping from between both of yours, freezing when he seems to shift a little, and then continuing the slow slide away when he settles again.

You’ve managed to extricate all of your limbs from him, except the one that is currently numb and squashed underneath him. You slowly roll onto your back and contemplate how you’re going to get it out from under him without waking him, when suddenly his arm flops over your waist. You jerk in surprise, eyes flying to his face, but his are still closed. His hand slides from your waist to your hip, and then snakes around to take a big handful of your ass. He makes a little happy noise and then pulls your body into his again. In the process, he has managed to jam his thigh back between your legs. You stare at his face, trying desperately to see if he’s starting to wake yet—how did you even end up in this situation? Then he pulls you even closer, causing his thigh to press deliciously against you. You suppress a whine, because it has been so long since someone has touched you liked this. But of course the person who is touching you is a maniac and is doing so while still asleep. You reach up and pat his cheek to wake him up, simultaneously trying to to pull away from him, but tightens his arms around you again, dipping his head to your shoulder still exposed by his too-big sweater.  You freeze in shock as he inhales deeply and hums, and soft kisses trail from your neck down, and before you can push him away he bites into the meat of your shoulder. The pain, pressure, and warmth of his mouth on your skin have you trying to arch away and into him—you do whine this time, loudly, because it hurts but you want.

Suddenly, his whole body seems to tense. The pressure on your shoulder eases, and he sighs, his breath cool drifting along your over-heated skin.

“Good morning.”

You open your eyes, realizing you’d been squeezing them shut through the last few moments, and meet his sleepy gaze.

"Were you awake?” you demand, terrified of the answer. Because if he was, then what the hell was he thinking, pretending to be asleep? And if he wasn't, was he just dreaming? Was it you in his dream, or was he dreaming of someone else? You don't want to know. You have to know.

“Your rather loud response to my love bite woke me up, I think,” he smiles softly. "I didn't realize that I was... dreaming until then."

“So you didn’t mean to—” you start to pull away.

He tightens his arm around your waist. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Sylus, let go. I’m sorry for not waking you fast enough. I was just—I was just shocked. I know you wouldn’t have done that otherwise.” You struggle, but his arm is a steel bar holding you in place.

“You’re right, I wouldn’t have,” he agrees, and you feel whatever fragile, tender root that had been growing in the cracks of your broken heart wither, the dry husk drifting away in an autumn breeze. Replacing that faint feeling of hope, you're livid that you do not share the same teleportation ability that Xavier and Sylus have. If you could, you'd teleport in a poof of glittering light or melodramatic feathers. To anywhere else but here.

You nod, and nod, and nod, because he’s not letting you move but you have to do something or else he’ll see it right on your stupid, open face, and you’d rather he slit your throat than see the pain his rejection is inflicting on you. You had lied to him earlier, about not having anything to hide, about always being honest with him. You've been lying to yourself, and to him, ever since you met him.

“What I mean—” he’s looking at you intently, and you want to cover his eyes with your hands, because as always they’re seeing too much, but suddenly, the doorbell rings through your flat.

You both turn your heads to look at the bedroom door at the same time.

Oh. Fuck.

Xavier.

Sylus turns to look back at you, so close that his nose brushes yours. “Expecting company, kitten?”

“It’s Xavier. Shit.” You try to roll away, and this time he lets you. You grab your phone off the nightstand and see that Xavier has already texted you a few times to see if you’re ready to head to the bookstore yet. The texts grow increasingly concerned the longer you don’t respond. The doorbell rings again. “You have to go. Now.”

You turn to Sylus, who is now lying leisurely on his side, head propped up in his hand, silky silver hair cascading across his forehead, occupying the bed like an imperialist force annexing a weaker neighbor’s territory, with no intention of leaving.

“And what are you going to do?” he asks, eyes drifting from your face, to your shoulder, down to your bare legs.

“I need to answer the door and tell Xavier that I’m running late.”

“Late for what?”

“Sylus, I don’t have time for this. You can’t be here. Xavier helped me get into the N109 zone, he spends a lot of time there—he’s smart enough that if he finds out what you look like, he might eventually be able to figure out who you are. You can’t be here,” you repeat, starting to panic. Sylus may not have any feelings for you beyond friendship or a predator toying with its food, but you still don’t want him to get caught because of you.

“You’re not working today. What plans do you have with him?” he asks, completely ignoring your distress.

“We’re going to the bookstore. We were going to spend our first day free just reading manga and eating junk food,” you rush out impatiently.

Sylus just looks at you for a few beats, the picture of lazy boredom on a weekend morning.

“Okay? Are you satisfied? Can you please leave now?” This is good. You can avoid the inevitable, It was a mistake, thought you were someone else, was dreaming about a giant amorous anthropomorphized ruby, you’re not exactly my type, because my type is someone who has their shit together, can identify what fucking region a certain grape was grown in and its exact soil acidity based on the year of the vintage, my type is someone else, anyone else—you reach down and hit yourself hard in the side of your thigh with a fist to get your head on straight, and start heading to your closet, intent on throwing on a robe or longer shorts so that you don't answer the door looking like you're not wearing any pants.

Sylus's irritated voice follows you. “Satisfied? No, I'm not feeling satisfied. But I would advise against answering the door wearing that.”

You jerk to a halt. “Excuse me?” You turn to find him scowling at you.

He waves a dismissive finger at the sweater and silk shirts you’re still wearing. “I think you should change before you answer the door.”

“I look that bad, huh? Thanks for the advice. You need to be gone when I get back.” You turn, hating everything and everyone, and make your way to the front door.

You throw it open, just as Xavier is lifting his hand to ring your bell again. His sky blue eyes, usually so calm and sleepy, widen when he takes in the dumpster fire that you are today.

“Hi, yeah, sorry. I overslept,” you rush out, hoping you can skip this part and go straight to the moving on with your day and your entire life part. “I just need like, fifteen minutes, and then I’ll be ready.”

“Did you get in a fight with a wanderer last night after we go home?” he asks, hand lifting again, this time toward you, as if he wants to touch you, but then thinks better of it and drops it back to his side. He’s wearing the white hoodie that Sylus stole from him. What even is your life right now?

“What? No, I just had some wine and was really tired.” He’s staring at you, brow furrowed now, and it takes a minute to realize that he’s staring at the sweater hanging off your shoulder. You suddenly get a really, really bad feeling. “Why?”

He lifts his hand again, and points, but in a kind of timid way, like a little kid who knows that it’s rude to point but can’t help himself anyway so just points a little so that his mom won’t get mad at him. “It looks like a wanderer bit you.”

You lift your own hand and touch your shoulder, and feel the too-warm skin there, the ache spreading deep into the muscle.

“Oooh, yeah. Yes.” You decide that you need to take acting classes. That is what you will do as your new hobby, on your few days off. You’re going to win the best actor award if it kills you, because if it doesn’t kill you, the embarrassment will kill you instead. And you’d rather die convincing everyone that everything is normal and you’re fine, and not from the embarrassment of the fact that your not-boyfriend, not-fuck-buddy, not-interested-at-all, probably not even your friend anymore Sylus accidentally bit you while fucking asleep and left evidence of it for all the world to see. “I did respond to a really minor alert in the neighborhood last night. It was only one wanderer. Hiding in a trash can of all places,” you laugh, not at all sounding unhinged. Convincing. “Bit me pretty good, but it really was nothing, I had completely forgotten about it. So, still on for the bookstore?” you ask, chipper, eager, well-adjusted!

Xavier stares at your shoulder for a few seconds longer, and then just nods. “Yeah, just text me when you’re ready.”

Bless him. You’ve almost put him back to sleep with your absolutely stellar performance. “Okay, great! See you soon.” You back into your flat again and let the door shut with a heavy click.

Xavier stands outside your door for several moments after you’ve scurried back inside. He thinks about how sharp his light blade is. He thinks about how he’s going to use it on whatever motherfucker thinks that he has the right to mark Xavier’s partner like an animal. And then he yawns, and meanders back to his own flat to wait for your text because he has all the time in the world, and the patience to match it. Xavier is your partner, and he’s not going anywhere, anytime soon. If he murders whatever asshole was in your flat last night right now, that might interfere with your bookstore plans with him.

You stand on the other side of the door for a moment, just trying to collect yourself. You lean against the cool surface, look up at your ceiling. Breathe in the smell of shoe leather, oiled metal. Absently you lift your hand to your shoulder. Why didn’t Sylus warn you before you went to open the door? He even admitted that he wouldn’t have … done that to you if he hadn’t been asleep. Why would he just… and then it hits you. He did tell you to change clothes before you answered the door. The asshole just didn’t tell you why. But he would know by now that you’d actually do the opposite of whatever he says, because he’s not the boss of you. He played you like one of his fucking records.

But why the fuck would he want Xavier to see what happened between the two of you? Does he enjoy your humiliation that much?

You have no idea if you’ll ever have the chance to figure him out, especially if he got the hint that you don’t want to see him anytime soon. You shake your head. Even though you should be exhausted after staying up so late and ending up on the human embodiment of a roller coaster with its wheels coming off despite all of your promises to yourself last night, you feel well-rested. You will survive this. You can survive anything.

You head back to your bedroom to confirm that Sylus is actually gone, because last night proved that whether he actually listens when you tell him to leave depends entirely on his own whims. As you enter, the late morning sunlight spills into the room. He really left. The room is empty. The books and various weapons on your nightstands have been stacked neatly and lined up just so. The clothes that had been left haphazardly hanging off your chest of drawer handles or strewn over the floor are nowhere to be seen. It would be the tidiest your bedroom has been in weeks, if not for the fact that your entire bed is covered in a thick layer of black feathers.

“This bitch,” you breathe.

It’s going to take at least two full size trash bags to clean this mess up.

You decide then and there that Sylus doesn’t have a choice about whether he’s going to see you again. You’re going to bag up these feathers and then tar and feather him with them the next time you see his gorgeous, petty fucking face.

[themthistles]

if kpop idols actually unionize that industry will be popped like a bubble and i personally welcome it

[wttcsms]

cw yandere themes, stalking

thinking about a superhero au that's similar to the setup in "the boys" where superheroes are celebrities, backed by a company/management team + you are promoted to be character's handler. you're the one who finalizes his schedule, tells him where to go, accesses all the classified files that detail the missions he goes on (+ sometimes even accompany him to said missions). you know the ins + outs of his life (career-wise, he's doing fantastic; does well in polls, the public loves him, and his reddit snark page is itching for him to do anything they can complain about. his private life... well, he doesn't really have a life outside his job — or so it seems). he's a very black noir inspired superhero; no one knows what he looks like underneath his mask; no one knows anything about him since he stays consistently covered in his nearly indestructible suit that only emphasizes the flex of his muscles and the tightness of his abs. he never talks, which took some getting used to. you thought that was just his bit for the public, the whole "silent killer" persona, but he only nods or shakes his head when you're going over his itinerary for the day. you eventually get used to his silence & you two sort of come up with your own secret language. you can't see through his mask, but sometimes the two of you will look at each other when something happens and it's like you just know what he's trying to communicate + vice versa.

being a superhero's handler means your own private life — or lack thereof — is pretty boring. you don't have a lot of time for anything, but you finally get a chance to go out on a date. but it's just your luck that your date turns out to be a small-time villain on the side. when you think things are going to take a turn for the worst, who shows up to your rescue?

your superhero, of course.

you don't question how he knows where you're at; you're too busy being grateful for his help. you can't see the gleeful expression he's wearing under the mask when you're cooing words of praise at him. you look so cute, he thinks. you're always cute — when you're kicking off your heels after you get home from a long day of work, when you're slipping off your blouse so you can hop in the shower, when you're rushing to get to work on time in the morning, when you're hiding away in one of the many break rooms inside the company's building.

that night proves to be a series of surprises for you; first, you literally went on a date with an actual criminal. and second, you actually hear character speak for the first time ever. he has a nice voice, deep and a bit gravelly — probably due to the fact that he chooses not to speak most of the time. but it's what he says that almost wipes your grateful smile off your face.

"don't go out with anyone. you're supposed to be mine, remember?"

[pinkiemachine]

How would you do Batman, I'm just wondering because Batman's my favorite character

OH HO HO!! I HAVE WRITTEN SO MUCH ABOUT BATMAN!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

*ahem*

His show is called BATMAN: GOTHAM FILES, and I have the basic outline for each and every one of the seasons! There’s 9 total, plus a movie finale. Here we go!

SEASON ONE:

Most of us should know basically what Bruce’s backstory is, so I’ll keep this part brief. Bruce Wayne was eight years old when his millionaire mother and father were gunned down in front of him in an alleyway in Gotham City. They never found the killer. The family’s loyal butler, Alfred Pennyworth, took care of Bruce from that point onward. Bruce started taking self-defence classes in-between going to the schwanky Gotham Academy and learning how to run his father’s business, Wayne Enterprises (a massive conglomerate that was famous throughout all of America, but especially the East Coast.) The young man had hardly healed from his traumatic experience, though, and after graduating college (something he was practically forced to do by Alfred), he decided not to stay in Gotham. He hated the city. Instead, he took off in a plane… and secretly never intended to come back…

EIGHT YEARS LATER…

It was a welcome surprise when Bruce Wayne turned up in Gotham, seemingly in a much happier headspace and eager to finally, finally take his father’s business seriously. The Prince of Gotham had returned. Months after that, there was a new legend lurking in the streets of the city. Something called “the batman” or “the bat.” Criminals were getting caught and arrested left and right, and half of them were scared out of their minds about this spectre. The police force didn’t know what to make of it… except for one Captain Jim Gordon. He knew that the legend was true… and occasionally, he would sneak into his office and scare the living daylights out of him. He and Batman had been working together for a little while now, (we get an episode later that explores how they first met), but Gordon doesn’t know who he really is under the mask, and no one else in the force thinks that Batman is even real. But Gordon is eager to help him because the police force is falling apart. They’re completely unable to do their job and keep the streets safe, so Gordon agrees to help Batman stop crime in its tracks. He wants to make Gotham safer for his wife and daughter.

Shocking literally no one, the audience discovers that Bruce Wayne is Batman, working out of a massive secret base underneath Wayne Manor—his ancestral home. But, he must balance the life of a vigilante with the life of billionaire Bruce Wayne, which can be difficult at times. We get several episodes just laying the ground work. Who runs the company when Bruce isn’t around? Lucious Fox. Who manages Bruce’s affairs and schedule? Alfred. Who makes all the gadgets and gear that Batman uses? He does. Using plenty of materials and goods he can buy since he’s a billionaire. When did he learn how to make all this stuff? Hmmmmmm….

We meet our first few villains—Penguin, Two-Face, Scarecrow, Poison Ivy, Mr. Freeze, Riddler, etc—Batman is still trying to track down who murdered his parents, and we’re having a generally good time until THE MID SEASON FINALE. You see, there’s a circus coming to town.

Haley’s Traveling Circus was famous on the East Coast, being one of the oldest circuses in the country, as well as boasting the Fabulous Flying Graysons! A family trapeze act! However, this smiling troop of clowns was actually hiding some pretty dark secrets. When they arrived in Gotham City, they were asked to help out known mob-boss Tony Zucco with some… not-so-nice things. John Grayson, head of the Flying Graysons, had been feeling conflicted about how much behind-the-scenes shady dealings the circus had been involved with over the years. So, he thought that maybe if he just let the tiniest bit of evidence leak to the police, maybe they could handle everything and the Graysons wouldn’t be caught in the cross fire. This is what brings Batman to the scene. He investigates the circus, meets the Graysons, including their son, Richard, aka Dick, and eventually goes on to solve the mysterious crime, pinning it on Tony Zucco and getting certain members of Haley’s Circus arrested. (The ones actually involved in the crime.) However, Zucco manages to avoid jail time. Not only that, but he discovers who snitched on him. That night, after the case has been solved and Bruce shows up to catch the Flying Graysons perform, everything is going great until the unthinkable happens: the lines on the trapeze snap and Mr. and Mrs. Grayson go falling to their deaths.

Dick Grayson is an orphan… and he’s angry. He’s about 11 years old, but he’s smart enough to know what’s going on. He knows why Batman was coming around asking questions, he knows who Tony Zucco is, and he knows that his father made him very unhappy. After the police have arrived, but before social services do, Dick sneaks out and climbs to the top of the building with the Bat-Signal on it (yes, by this point in the story, that’s a thing). He flashes it on and off, rain pelting down, until the caped crusader arrives. He demands to know if this was Zucco’s fault. Batman refuses to say anything, but Dick doesn’t care. He says he’s going to make Zucco pay, whether Batman helps or not, and he tries his hardest to remain true to his word. After that night, Dick runs off through Gotham several times, trying to get in touch with Zucco and attempting to enact revenge, meanwhile Batman has to keep swooping in to keep the kid from getting himself killed. He recognises the pain he’s in—he completely understands his anger—and realises that he needs a teacher—a mentor—a father figure who can lead him through all of this and keep him out of trouble. So, as Bruce Wayne, he decides to adopt Dick. At first, Dick doesn’t want anything to do with this stranger—he’d rather stay with his circus family if he’s going to stay with anyone—but then, in court one day, Bruce says something—something only Batman said to him once—and all of a sudden, it clicks in Dick’s mind. He instantly asks to be placed in Bruce’s care and not a few hours after arriving at Wayne Manor, Dick manages to discover where the Batcave entrance is. Sneaking down there, he plans to become his own kind of vigilante, just like Batman, and get revenge… until Bruce catches him and tries to knock some sense into him.

It’s here that Bruce has to confront his own past. His sense and reason are saying, “Don’t let the kid try to enact revenge!” But then, he has to ask himself, “why am I still hunting down the man who killed my parents?” He has to tell himself, “it can’t be about revenge. Only what is just and fair.” When/if he finds the killer, he will turn him over to the authorities and let him face proper punishment. Zucco… he’s too powerful. There needs to be a lot of incriminating evidence against him before the police can take action, and even then, that’s not what Dick wants. Dick wants Zucco gone. Permanently. THAT is what needs to be dealt with inside of Dick. Bruce refuses to let this boy make himself a killer. Instead, he decides to channel that anger and drive into training him. You see, when Bruce vanished for eight years, it was during that time that he met many teachers and learned many new skills. Through bettering himself and learning these skills, he felt he had grown as a person and had worked through some of his emotions. It was therapeutic. He hopes it will be the same for Dick. He also teaches him about the justice system and detective work so that they can bring down Tony Zucco WITHOUT killing him. Little by little, over the course of the next year, Dick starts to turn into the infamous side-kick Robin, following Batman on small cases and learning about fighting crime… from a distance. (Mostly.) Dick does have a knack for getting into trouble.

On the personal side of things, Dick still needs to adjust to living in Wayne Manor, going to a new school (Gotham Academy) navigating being a wealthy, famous person’s adopted son, etc etc. And then… Ra’s Al Ghul shows up. Now it’s time for Bruce’s past to be revealed. He had traveled the world, and he did have many teachers, but none quite as legendary as the Demon’s Head, leader of the League of Shadows. A secret organisation (cult, really, Bruce later realised) that had mastered martial arts, ninjutsu, and so much more. Each member was a peak specimen of the human race, with no genetic weaknesses or flaws, especially their leader, Ra’s. Bruce had been one of his top students, but then he had revealed his grande scheme for the world. Ra’s wanted to wipe out the rest of humanity (which he deemed as impure and flawed) and then the only people who would be left to inherit the Earth would be his perfect family and his perfect followers! All he was missing was a male heir to his throne. His daughter, Talia, most perfect of his children, had fallen in love with Bruce during his time in the Shadows, but before anything serious could come of it, Bruce had snuck out and left the League, meaning never to come back. Now, though, Ra’s had found him and wanted him to marry his daughter. Bruce refuses. Ra’s tries to take him by force, Robin helps save the day, it’s a big exciting grand finale to the season, and it ends with Ra’s and Talia retreating… because while Bruce was captured, they managed to steal some… “DNA”… and test tube baby Damian would be thus conceived, unbeknownst to Batman and Robin.

(Like, he’s a test tube baby from conception. Talia was never physically pregnant with him.)

Anyway, things are looking up for our main characters. They saved the city, they saved each other, they’re working on their personal growth, and everyone is excited to see Season 2 because—

JOKER TEASE!!!! DUN DUN DUN!!!!

I’mma make more posts, this is a long one, strap in…

I also have a sketch of Talia…

Part 2 👇

[lyv-writes]

quick to break: frank castle x reader

words: 5,596

warnings: explicit smut, afab!reader, blowjobs, face-fucking, consensual vaginal sex, mild cock worship, manhandling, spanking, praise kink, strength kink, mating press, choking kink, use of the term “little girl” but not in a ddlg way, more in a patronizing way??? and only like 3 times, honestly pureee filth. i came back with a vengeance, aftercare, cuddling after sex (truly the biggest warning)

notes: had to come back with a bang…literally. horrible pun, i know. please enjoy and feel free drop an ask in my inbox! :D this was also cross-posted on ao3 <3

･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡ ･ﾟﾟ･

Frank Castle.

Even the name was daunting, looming over you like a castle at the top of a hill. Walls impenetrable; no one got in that wasn’t wanted. He oozed control, of which Frank had a lot of.

Control over the scumbags of Hell’s Kitchen, causing even the most dangerous of men to move underneath his radar for fear of him catching wind of them. The images of the bodies he left scattered in his wake more than likely the first thing they think about when they wake up, and the last they think about when they lay their head on their pillow.

Control over himself, the patience on the vigilante running far deeper than anyone would expect with his gruff personality. It comes with the territory, spending hours staking out buildings, days following criminals, months jumping from goon to goon, working his way up to the big bosses. That was no easy task, oftentimes returning to his loft seething, having to remind himself that running in half-cocked would only get him killed before he accomplished his goals, before he fulfilled his purpose.

His favorite place to exert his control, however, was you. As of late, he finds his veins thrumming with a different kind of adrenaline—one that he can only find in taking you apart piece-by-piece, and putting you back together, not a thought in your head other than being good for him. He craves that control, in a way he only previously associated with the feeling of pulling the trigger of his gun with the barrel pressed against the head of some killer/smuggler/trafficker/piece of shit.

What made it so sweet was how willingly you gave it to him. He didn’t have to chase you down, didn’t have to break you to get you to bend for him.

He simply asked. Sometimes, demanded, if the mood called for it.

Even if he didn’t do either, you could tell what he needed with a look, and you were more than happy to help take some of that weight off of his shoulders.

It didn’t take much for you to realize Frank was holding back the first couple times you two slept together. The first time, you thought nothing of it, the moment being full of love, passion, truly an act of devotion between the two of you. It was sweet, it was perfect, it made you wish that your first time had been like that, with him. You finished together, kissing each other through it with wandering hands. Falling asleep in his arms that night, felt like a missing piece falling into place.

After a while of being together, and more than a few nights spent tangled with each other under sheets, it was a rare night where you and Frank could lose yourselves in each other's company, that you had ventured into new territory.

Driven by a night full of fleeting touches, ignoring the outside world for just a moment, the two of you stumbled into your apartment, lips reluctantly leaving each other only to shed your coats. You followed it up with your dress, and Frank impatiently unbuttoned his black dress shirt as you were already dropping to your knees, hands fumbling with his belt and unfastening his pants before he had even shed his shirt. You traced your lips over his clothed erection, nuzzling against his bulge before fixing your lips over his tip, lapping at him through his boxers.

His cock twitched at the feeling of your warm breath caressing him through the cloth and before he could say a word you had hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down to meet his pants in a heap around his ankles, his cock springing free from its confines. You looked up to see him looming over you, hard cock hovering over your face as he pulled up the white tank top he wore underneath his button-up, revealing his stomach, solid, yet soft enough to melt under the press of your finger. He stepped out of his bottoms and kicked them to the side, and stepped towards you again, pressing the underside of his cock against your tongue.

“Please, Frankie, fuck my throat,” You whimpered, hands resting on his thighs, still pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses on the head of his cock and down his shaft. The only thing that had been on your mind all throughout dinner was treating Frank the way he deserved.

He did so much for you, for the city, you wanted him to be selfish for once, to take what he needed from you. You began stroking his length slowly, looking up at him through your lashes as you lapped at his slit, a groan coming from deep in his chest at your words coupled with your filthy actions. Your words came out slurred, lips still pressed to his cock and eyes glassy. “Wan’ you to, really, really do.”

Frank swallowed hard, gathering your hair together in a ponytail in his fist, his other hand coming down to caress your cheek softly. “You sure, baby?” He asked, voice tight with restraint. You had no idea how badly those words made him want to see you gag on his cock as he sinks into your throat, but you were so sweet, so soft.

The two of you hadn’t discussed making things a little more intense in the bedroom, too satisfied with being joined together so intimately. Frank knew that he could get a little lost in it sometimes, forgetting his own strength when wrapped up in the moment, but he made sure to take care with you.

Frank was all too happy to take things at your pace, just having you to himself being enough for him. “Wouldn’t wanna hurt that pretty throat a’yours.”

You shook your head, a dreamy smile on your face as you picked up the pace of your strokes. “You won’t hurt me, Frank. I trust you.”

He took a deep breath, feeling a bit selfish at giving into your request so easily, but he couldn’t deny that he desperately wanted to see if your throat could take his cock as good as your cunt did. And who was he to tell you no when you asked for it so sweetly. “Just tap my thigh if you need me ‘ta stop, okay?”

“Okay, Frankie,” you breathed, rubbing your thighs together in anticipation of feeling Frank use some of that strength you knew was hiding under his soft flesh against you.

Frank’s nighttime activities have never bothered you, in fact, quite the opposite. You found his sense of justice, the drive to do what needs to be done, admirable, irresistible. You couldn’t help but adore him—feel safe with him. You knew that if your friends and family knew who Frank really was, they would question your sanity. How in the world could you feel safe with someone who could be so violent, so bloodthirsty?

But you knew he would never hurt you.

You found comfort in how capable he was at keeping you safe. Knowing he would do anything to protect his own—you were convinced that if the world went to complete shit you would remain unaffected in Frank’s loft, shielded in your very own fortress, just the two of you.

The way you felt safe, cared for as his body hovered over yours on your bed, was something like you had never felt before. You knew you could only ever feel this safe with Frank.

Seeing the look of unadulterated adoration on your face, the way you so eagerly lapped at his cock as you waited for him to finally sink into your awaiting mouth, had him groaning, his cock twitching against your tongue at the sight. After a steadying breath, his grip tightened in your hair and he slowly entered your mouth, feeding you his dick until his tip was hitting the back of your throat with a moan at the sound of you gagging around his length.

“Relax, baby, lemme in,” he grunts, his face pinched in concentration as he focuses on not hurting you, no matter how badly he wants to shove you down on his cock. With short, steady thrusts he works open your throat, pulling back out till the tip was resting on your tongue before plunging back in just a little bit further. “That’s it, baby— shit.”

His sounds have you moaning lightly around his length, eyes glazed over and looking up at him as he takes such care in making sure you can take him without harm. You relax as much as you can for him, taking deep breaths through your nose as he sinks further into your throat. The taste of him is heady, causing arousal to coat your slit as you work your tongue against the underside of his cock.

“Atta girl,” he purrs, the last inch of his cock sliding down your throat. He groaned, pumping his hips shallowly as he tipped his head back and you whined at the sight of him, shirt pulled up to his chest, a sheen of sweat covering his chest and shoulders.

The light from the ceiling haloed around him, an angelic image towering above you. You could worship him forever, you realized, as you felt his thrusts pick up speed, pulling out from your throat and plunging back in. With that thought, the last of the tension that was strung tight in your body dissipated and you knew Frank could feel the difference with the moan that slipped from his throat.

He was seated to the hilt, your nose pressed tightly to the trimmed patch of hair at the base of his cock. You struggled to get a breath in through your nose as he relished in the way your throat fluttered around his cock. With your eyes rolling back slightly, the lack of oxygen had your head swimming, your heartbeat thumping in your clit at the feeling.

Frank opened his eyes, dropping his gaze to where you were kneeled before him, eyes rolled back at the feeling of him filling your throat and he picked up his speed again with a loud moan. His balls slapped against your chin as he used your throat like it was a fleshlight, and you snaked your hand down to the apex of your thighs, sliding past your panties to your soaked core.

The feeling of your fingers against your clit had you moaning loudly around his cock, the vibrations from your throat dislodging a loud moan from his throat. “Such a good fuckin’ slut f’me, gettin’ off from havin’ my cock in your throat.”

His words had you whining, not expecting the filth that dripped from his tongue. Frank was very vocal in bed—telling you how good you feel, moaning into your ear as he sinks into you. But he was so vulgar, it had you rutting against your fingers at the same pace he fucked into your throat.

No matter how badly you wanted to get him off with just your mouth, to feel him cum down your throat, you needed him inside you so desperately. Finally giving in, the war in your mind ceased as you tapped lightly on his thigh, signaling for him to stop.

“Fuck, baby, I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Frank asked quickly, worry lacing his words as he gently pulled out of your throat. His eyes met yours and widened slightly in awe at you, seeing the dopey smile on your face and the way you nosed at the flesh of his tummy.

“Not at all, Frankie,” you assured, your voice a little raspy before pressing a kiss to the skin above his belly button. You continued to litter kisses all over the skin you could reach, pulling a soft chuckle from Frank as he carded his fingers through your hair softly. “S’good, so good, jus’ need you real bad.”

“Yeah, baby?” He asks, a teasing grin on his face. “Need my cock in that cute little cunt’a yours? Bet that’s why you were humpin’ your hand while suckin’ me off.”

Nodding quickly, you stand on wobbly legs. Frank steadied you as you swayed towards him with a giggle before you shimmied out of your panties, grinning up at him cheekily. Linking his fingers with yours, you drag him down the hall into your bedroom, yelping at the smack he lands on your ass as you're crawling onto the bed.

Situating yourself on your hands and knees, you wiggle your ass at Frank teasingly, shooting him a coy smile over your shoulder. “Please, Frankie…need’ta feel your big dick stretching out my pussy.”

With a wolfish grin, he pulls his tank top over his head, grin turning into a smirk at the way your eyes rake over his body, admiring his strong torso before your eyes settle on his cock. It stood proud, mushroom tip flushed a deep red, pre-cum beading at the tip.

Mounting the bed behind you, he presses a palm between your shoulders until your chest is flush with the bed, presenting your slick cunt for his eyes. His rough hands knead the plush flesh of your ass, groaning at how wet your tight hole is for him. You feel his hand leave you and then come back down, landing a hard smack! to your ass, forcing a moan from your throat.

Frank watches the way your ass jiggles with hungry eyes, chuckling lowly at the loud moan you released. “Does my girl like it when I slap her pretty ass, hm?”

His hand comes down again on your other cheek, the stinging pain morphing into pleasure that pooled in your core. You felt slick leak from your core, face flushing knowing that Frank has the perfect view of your sodden cunt. That thought is confirmed when his thumb drags from your entrance to your clit, rubbing your slick around the tender bud slowly. “You really like that, don’t’cha, angel?”

His thumb added more pressure to your clit, circling it faster before slowing down again. He sped up again, feeling the way you inched closer and closer to your climax before slowing down again.

“Never would’a thought my sweet girl liked bein’ roughed up so much,” he mused, his grin clear in his voice. His thumb was replaced with two fingers, circling your clit a couple more times before dipping down to your entrance, prodding against the tight hole. You clench around nothing at the feeling of Frank’s fingers ghosting against your entrance, drawing another breath of a laugh from him.

“That why you wanted me to fuck your pretty little throat?” Frank asked, burying two of his fingers inside you the knuckle, the feeling of your walls stretching around them making you whine. “My little girl like it when I push her around a bit? When I use her like the little toy she is?”

A moan left your lips as Frank crooks his fingers, searching for that soft spot inside you, and it sends you reeling when he finds it. It feels like the air has been punched from your lungs at the way he bullies the spot, fucking you open on his fingers with fervor. Frank’s fingers were twice the size of yours, and long enough to reach the most delicious spots inside you.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, the force of his fingers forcing moans and incoherent mumbles from your lips. A cry tore from your lips as his hand struck your ass again, immediately repeating the action on the other cheek.

The pain mixed with pleasure had you gushing around his fingers, the sound of them fucking into you, lewd and wet, had your ears turning red. Without warning, your climax swept you under, your body tensing and trembling as white spots clouded your vision. Frank fucked you through your high with his fingers, slowing down until he was still, buried to the knuckle as your cunt fluttered around him.

As your orgasm subsided, you felt yourself relax, slumping further against the bed as Frank gently pulled his fingers from your twitching hole.

“Did so fuckin’ good f’me, baby,” Frank praises, draping his body over yours to press kisses across your back and shoulders. His hands trail from your hips, up your sides and squeeze at the plush flesh of your waist before dragging them back down to your hips and repeating the process.

His cock is hot against your lower back, hard length rutting slowly against your ass as he continues to ghost kisses across your skin. “Such a good fuckin’ girl—my good fuckin’ girl.”

A content hum builds in the back of your throat and you roll over on your side just enough to look back at Frank, your chest tightening at the grin stretched across his face. Frank’s smile always had your heart screeching to a halt in your chest, and you were sure your eyes turned to hearts at the sight.

“‘M all yours, Frankie,” you say with a sigh, pursing your lips at him to ask for a kiss.

He wastes no time in fulfilling your request, pressing his lips to yours in a deep kiss. You can feel his love pouring into you through the kiss, as if your souls were connected where your lips met. The kiss was broken all too soon by the smile that stretched across your lips. His smile soon mirrored yours until you were smiling fondly at each other, foreheads pressed together and breaths mingling in the close space.

“Are you okay to continue?” Frank asks, tone soft as he bumps his nose gently against yours. “We can stop here, baby. You’ve been so perfect.”

The tiredness that you feel is still tinged with an undercurrent of need, still craving to be so intimately connected with Frank. The feeling of his cock, hard and warm against your skin only solidified your thoughts. Pressing another soft kiss to his lips, you pull away just far enough to murmur, “Fuck me, Frankie.”

With a groan and a satisfied grin, Frank’s hand snaked down between the two of you, guiding his cock to glide along your slick folds. Your mingling breaths soon became shared moans as he pressed his dick flat against your cunt, lubing up his cock with your wetness. A whine hitched in your throat as his head nudged at your entrance until it gave way, allowing him to work his thick cock inside your tight hole.

Despite him getting you ready with his fingers, the feeling of him stretching you out in his cock had heat engulfing your body, your mouth opening in a silent moan at the never-ending feeling of him filling you. He finally met the end of you, pressing himself further just for good measure before pulling back till just the tip was seated in your cunt.

He leisurely plunged his cock back into you, allowing you to feel the way his dick carved a path inside you. You loved the way Frank always looked out for you, always put your needs before his own when it came to acts of intimacy. But right now you wanted—no, you needed him to take what he wanted.

“Frankie,” you whined, arching your back to press your ass against his hips, taking his cock completely. “Please, fuck me, Frank. Don’t hold back.”

A rough groan passes his lips, his hips pressing further against yours at your words. “Fuck, babydoll, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t, Frankie,” you urge, looking at him with your face pressed against the mattress. “I’m not quick to break—promise. Please, Frankie, fuck me hard.”

He could hear the desperation in your voice, the way your lip trembled and brows pinched together as you looked up at him. Surging down to grab your jaw with his hand, he held your face still to press his lips urgently to yours, tongue demanding entrance before he pulled away, string of spit connecting your tongues.

Frank pulled away enough to look you in your eyes, making sure there wasn’t a trace of hesitation. Instead he found lust, hunger, love, as you smiled up at him once more. His voice was firm, more firm than you had ever really heard him be with you. “You tell me to stop, I stop immediately, do you understand, babydoll?”

“Yes, sir,” you responded immediately, the honorific just sounding right in the context. “I’ll tell you if I don’t like something.”

His gaze darkened at the sound of the title you used for him and he nodded at your agreement, dropping a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Good girl.”

His words washed over you like a warm breeze, sinking you further into the fuzzy headspace that you always felt bleeding at the edges of your vision when it came to being intimate with Frank.

You felt Frank straighten back up, his hands trailing your shoulders, softly down your sides to settle at your hips. Slowly, so slow it was agonizing, he pulled his cock from your wet channel, just the tip nestled into your heat. Despite the instinct to brace for the impact of his hips on yours, you forced yourself to relax, further melting into the mattress to show Frank just how much you wanted everything he had to give.

Frank stayed still, enjoying the visage of you so submissive for him. Presenting your sweet cunt so eagerly for him, like a bitch in heat begging to be bred. His cock pulsed where it sat snug in your entrance at the thought.

You started to get antsy, wanting to look over your shoulder to see what Frank was thinking, but wanting to stay still and be good for him. Just when you considered wiggling your hips, hoping to spur him on, he filled your weeping cunt in one fell stroke.

A cry was wrenched from your throat at the feeling of him filling you so completely, not sparing a second before he was pistoning his hips against yours. With your eyes rolling back in your head at the feeling of his tip bullying your cervix, you felt the curve of his dick brushing against that spongy spot inside you.

The pleasure was almost too much, your fingers tightening in their grip on the sheets and trying to drag yourself away from the feeling. With a grunt, Frank wrenched your hand out of the sheets, hand circling tightly around the bend of your elbow as he pulled you back towards him. His hips picked back up their rhythm, hand landing a thundering smack on your ass cheek as he fucked into you.

“Don’t try runnin’ now, little girl,” Frank grunted, landing another harsh smack against the raw flesh of your ass. “You asked for this.”

He was being borderline mean, his tone cold and detached as he used your body to chase his release, and his words had a loud moan breaking free from your throat. It only had you growing wetter, the squelching sounds of him railing your cunt increasing in volume, along with your moans.

You knew that if you wanted it to stop, you could say so, and you trusted Frank to keep his word. But it was so perfect, the pain burning in such a euphoric way, it was too much and not enough all at once.

“F-fuck, sir— unh! ” Words fell from your lips, incoherent babbles of his name mixing with your moans creating the most beautiful symphony in the silence of the room. “So good—so full, fuck.”

His hips came to a stop, pulling out so quickly you didn’t even realize until he was manhandling you onto your back. His eyes took you in from your face to the wet heat at the apex of your thighs, unconsciously licking his lips at the sight of you clenching around nothing.

“Kiss me, Frankie, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist and dragging your wet core against his cock.

He’s never been able to deny you anything, even now, his hard exterior dropping to press a languid kiss to your lips. You gasp against his mouth, his tongue taking advantage of the noise to slip in alongside yours. He pulls back just enough to murmur, “Bein’ such a good little toy for me, baby.”

His hips rut against you, grinding perfectly against your clit. His words send your mind floating off into the clouds, happy, sated knowing that you’re being good for him, that you’re taking all that he gives just how he wants you to.

You’re so lost in the kiss, the feeling of his chapped lips against yours, the warm weight of his hand caressing the side of your cheek, you don’t even notice him drag his cock down to your entrance. With a sharp thrust, he bottoms out once more, relishing in the way your eyes widen at the unexpected stretch, your mouth falling open in a silent scream.

Frank licks into your mouth one final time before pulling away, planting one hand on your hip and the other around your neck. He gives your neck a gentle squeeze, your eyes focusing on him and seeing the silent question in his eyes. You nod quickly, failing to form the words of encouragement he needed, but whatever he saw on your face was confirmation enough.

His grip on your throat tightened, blood rushing in your ears at the light feeling in your head. Frank cursed, hips stuttering against yours at the way you clenched around his cock, almost making it hard for him to pull out and press back in smoothly.

Frank can feel your walls fluttering around him, the signs of your climax approaching has him doubling his efforts. The hand that was on your hip leaves a trail of fire as he moves it to your mound, thumb ghosting over your clit and making your hips buck against his thumb at the feeling.

The sweet abyss of release was so close you could taste it, sweet on your tongue. You were desperate for it. Your hands clutched his shoulders, nails digging into the skin hard, dragging down in your pleasure fueled daze, leaving stinging, red marks in your wake.

“Please, please, please,” you mumbled, your brain melting underneath Frank’s weight as you felt his hands grab at your thighs, pressing your knees to your chest as he settled his weight over you. His cock pressed deeper into your core, the deepest anyone had ever been. “O-oh, God, Frankie—can feel you in my tummy, baby— ah! ”

Your voice was nothing more than a shrill whine, all the air punched out of your lungs at the change in position. His weight was comforting around you as he molded your cunt around his cock. You were sure you would never be the same after this, he had broken you down and rebuilt you in the same breath.

His fingers worked quick circles around your clit as he huffed, his pace slowing slightly, allowing him to hit deeper, harder. His hand is still loosely circling your throat, no longer squeezing but acting as something to ground you. Despite your previous orgasms, you know this will be intense. You can feel it building, but it feels slightly different, the pressure building more than usual.

“C’mon, little girl, you’re gonna give it t’me,” Frank grunts, angling his hips for that little spot that makes you feel like you could float away from your body. His hand tightens around your neck, your moan cut off into a ragged breath. “Cum around my dick so I can breed this tight little cunt, y’want that don’t you?”

“God, yes!”

In a flash, flames envelop your body, toes curling as your vision goes spotty at the force of your orgasm, leaving you cumming with a cry. Frank’s hand releases your throat, the oxygen rushing back through your veins making the sensations more intense. You’re so fucked out, you didn’t notice the way you soaked the lower half of Frank’s body, your arousal dripping down his hips and drenching the sheets.

Frank’s hips collide with yours, once, twice, before stilling, painting your sensitive walls with his thick spend. The feeling of him filling you with his seed, grinding his hips against yours and stimulating your tender bud, has you moaning softly as an aftershock rolls through you.

The air around you is still, thick with the scent of sweat and sex. Frank gently lowers your legs, pressing featherlight kisses to your face at the sight of you wincing in discomfort. Tangling your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, you drag his mouth over yours, pressing a deep, unhurried kiss to your lover’s lips.

Frank’s softened cock is still wrapped in your velvet heat, both of you enjoying the feeling of being so close, feeling like you are one entity instead of two individuals. You had never understood the appeal of cockwarming until now, pressed to the bed with the weight of Frank’s body laid atop yours, joined in the most intimate way.

Finally parting for breath, Frank presses his forehead against yours, eyes closed as he melts under your nails scratching lightly at his scalp. His words are slurred in contentment. “Wasn’t too rough, was I?”

Shaking your head softly against his, you smile softly at his serene face. You only ever see Frank this at ease when he’s asleep, the only time the man indulged in being vulnerable. “Not at all, Frank.”

Pulling back far enough to meet his gaze, your hand falls to cup his cheeks. “It was perfect. You’re perfect, Frankie.”

It never fails to amaze him how you’re able to quiet the voices in his head, the ones that nag at him, nasty, cruel voices that spit venomous words. His whole being is still. Right now, intertwined with you in the closest way possible, he’s never been happier.

His lips pull into a sheepish grin, shaking his head at you. “That’s all you, angel. My good little girl.”

His praise makes your face flush, despite all you had just done, all he had just done to you, he still managed to fluster you. He presses a kiss to your pouting lips, chuckling into the kiss as you try to resist before melting against him.

Nuzzling your nose with his, he softly pulls out from your sensitive core, pressing a kiss to your nose as you wrinkled it at the sensation of his release dripping out of you. “C’mon, sweet girl. Let’s get you to the bathroom while I change the sheets.”

Standing up before you, Frank scoops you up in his arms, smirking at the tiny yelp you let out at the unexpected action. You smack his chest with a giggle before burying your face in his neck. Frank always looked at you a little weird when you sniffed at him like this, but you just couldn’t help it—he always smelt so good. If his natural scent was some top-shelf designer cologne, you would spend hundreds on it.

After placing you on the toilet, he grabs a washcloth, wetting it under warm water before kneeling in front of you and wiping down your sensitive areas with a gentle hand. Once he was done with that, he deposited the cloth in the hamper, before returning to the bathroom.

“I’m going to change the sheets and get you some water,” Frank says, pressing a lasting kiss on the top of your head. “You finish up in here, I’ll be done by the time you are.”

With a final smile, Frank leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him. You quickly use the restroom before wiping off the rest of your ruined makeup with a makeup remover wipe. By the time you’ve finished brushing your teeth and exited the bathroom, Frank is setting the glass of water on your side of the bed.

He smiles softly when he sees you exit the bathroom, his eyes taking in your bare figure with a look that wasn’t of hunger, or lust, but adoration, reverence. You had never felt so beautiful with just one look before you met Frank—he was unlike anyone you’d ever known.

He pulls back the duvet, sliding in against the fresh sheets and patting the spot next to him for you to join him. With a bright smile, you cross the room in a flash, burying yourself into his side as he tucks the comforter in around the two of you so none of the cold air could get into your little cocoon

You pressed your cold toes to Frank’s warm legs, giggling at the hiss he let out at the feeling. He glared playfully at you, kicking around at the blankets until he had wrapped them around your feet. Tucking his arm under your head, he draped his other arm over your waist and pulled you closer to him, your chilled nose brushing against the warm skin of his neck.

With a sigh you wrap your arm around Frank’s torso, hand splayed out on the muscles of his back and ribs. “Y’so warm, Frankie,” you mumble, the sound muffled from your place in his neck.

He laughs softly, his fingers drawing delicate shapes on the soft skin of your back. “You’re just cold, baby. But don’t worry, I got’cha.”

“I know,” you hum, trying to press yourself closer to him. “I love you, Frankie.”

“I love you too, sweet girl.”

[cravetive]

𝔸 𝔽ℝ𝕀𝔼ℕ𝔻 𝕆𝔽 𝔸 𝔽ℝ𝕀𝔼ℕ𝔻 | ℂℍ𝔸ℙ𝕋𝔼ℝ 𝟟

| 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫.

|𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞/𝐚𝐮: 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬,𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭,𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐮, 𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭.

| 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐗 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

| 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7k

| 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐬 & 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 ( 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤), 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬), 𝐬𝐞𝐱 ( 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬), 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐮𝐧𝐬 & 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐬, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

| 𝐀/𝐍: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲.

previous chapters

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The bulletin board in front of you showcased several pictures of individuals in your husband’s organization, some of whom you recognized from the event that took place only a week ago. Besides them were excerpts of newspaper articles and court documents with red strings connecting each picture. Jin stood proudly in front of it, pointing stick in hand as he explained the basics of the illicit businesses that Jungkook’s family partook in.

It felt like the pictures were staring back at you, taunting you as Jin described all the crimes and all the bloodshed Jungkook was responsible for. compared to this man you were nothing. You had never killed or stolen in your life, you were just a naïve girl with aspirations to bring down a criminal enterprise that had been standing and prospering way before you had even been born.

you couldn’t help but note the excitement in Jin’s voice as he described everything in detail, as if he was speaking of a discovery he had made, it never seized to surprise you how much Jin loved doing his job, how much happiness he found in putting his life on the line.

or was it because of you? did he feel accomplished because he had done this for you?

“they’ve been working towards going legit for some time now, which makes no sense seeing as they have made literal billions in this business” Jin furrows his brows at his research, his eyes lingering on the picture of Jungkook for a moment too long.

You knew the answer, recalling the announcement your father-in-law had made during your anniversary dinner. Of course, it all made sense now you couldn’t run for governor if you were the very person poisoning your society, he was attempting to erase his shady past and become a man not only criminals respected but the people of this country too. There was no way in hell he would have his cake and eat it too, not while there was still air in your lungs.

“Now from what I have been able to gather in the past 2 years, Mr. Jeon has been able to invest in a total of 3 companies, the very first being Intalex, then only 3 months after he invested into Capitalab with Austrade your parent's company being the last one.”

Your body tensed at the mention of your parents’ business, the one they had worked so hard to bring to life, the one you were so keen on protecting, it made your stomach turn. You couldn’t help but scowl, shutting your eyes in frustration. 

“Do you need a moment? We can revisit this at a later time” Jin spoke noticing the way you shifted in the chair you sat in; you opened your eyes and shook your head urgently, you had no time to lament over things that had already been done and you needed this information more than anything to succeed, you needed it to survive. Your anger and resentment alone would never be enough to bring Jungkook down.

“Carry on” you breathed.

Jin cleared his throat and glanced back to the bulletin board behind him, he pressed his lips together, a certain reluctance forming in his chest. he knew it hurt to know what kind of family it was you formed part of but ultimately, he also knew this was what you needed, even if he doubted the path, you were so set on going down.

“Right,” Jin sighed, swallowing back the bitter taste in his mouth.  “There is simplicity in money laundering” Jin continued, pressing the stick against a court document pinned to the board “First, there is placement which is the introduction of what we call ‘dirty money’ into a legitimate business in this case Intalex, Capitalab, and Austrade then comes layering which through a series of investments and money play will conceal the source of the money much like the investment made by your father in law to your father’s company in exchange for your marriage, and then when the money is cleaned with legal paper trail it's then removed and integrated back to the criminal's finances.”

Your eyes narrowed at the thought of how much money your father had already laundered for Jungkook and his family, of how you were all just pawns in a game you had no chance of winning. It made you sick to your stomach to think for a moment you had ever tried to be amicable with a man like Jungkook, someone who held no compassion, someone who had no heart.

“How- “you whispered, “how have the authorities not caught wind of this?” your eyes remained fixed on the board. You focused on remembering each face that was displayed there, the familiar ones and the ones you’d never seen before too. They would have to pay for what they’ve done.

For an instant, you couldn’t help but feel saturated, what you thought was a burning house was instead a forest fire and the smoke was choking you to death.

You had underestimated them in ways you couldn’t describe.

Jin’s eyes traveled to where you sat, a disappointed expression on his face, the answer remained on the tip of his tongue, but his teeth clenched together, you had lived in a glass cage with no clear view of the real world, and it pained him to be the one to give you a reality check.

“When you have money and influence in the way the Jeons have, there is nothing in this world you can't buy and that includes government officials and dirty cops” he sighed.

“You would be surprised how little money it takes to bury a crime” You felt your chest tighten at his words. It was a fact that you knew to be true but one you had ignored all this time because it almost sounded fictitious.

 if Jin had been able to gather all this information in less than 2 weeks then you were sure the cops were already very much aware of all these crimes, it destroyed all the plans you had previously made, all this paper trail, all this evidence meant nothing if no one was willing to go after them. You couldn’t just walk into a police station with all this proof, all that would do is put a target on your back, if the police was on their side, then how else could you destroy them?

Would you be willing to become a criminal too at the expense of your revenge?

“Can you tell me what intel you’ve gathered on these guys?” You took a gulp of the tea that sat in front of you, hoping that it would wash away the lurking thoughts that had overtaken your mind.

“As we know we have Mr. Jeon as the head of the organization and then we have his heir Jeon Jungkook, his name doesn’t even appear on the police database which can only mean 2 things, either your husband is a saint, or he has been paying someone very powerful to keep his record clean.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, Jungkook a saint? There was no fucking way.

“But from what my private investigator has managed to find he is responsible for various crimes as well” Jin proceeded to slide a file in front of you and you stared at it for a moment before flipping it open. You remained silent, frozen in time as you attempted to digest the pictures in front of you.

There were photographs of his crimes. dead bodies, Jungkook meeting with other drug lords, and drugs and weapons that had been seized by foreign countries. Your heart felt heavy, and you shuddered at the reminder that this was who you were married to.

Jin didn’t remove his eyes from you, expecting a reaction but none came. Your face remained stone cold even if inside you were falling apart, unable to express how sick you felt.

“Kim Taehyung” Your ears perked at the mention of the name, out of all the scrum bags you had met that night, Taehyung was the only one that was tolerable, you recalled how safe you had felt under his gaze, but you knew Jin would soon destroy the way you had once perceived him.

“His father was a shareholder in the Jeon company, he has since retired due to poor health, but Taehyung has taken his place, due to his constant travels we can assume he’s responsible for their international affairs, Jungkook’s ‘business’ has ties to Japan, China, Taiwan, and even the Russian Mob.”

Jin went silent and you blinked repeatedly, you tried to process what he had just said. The mob? The fucking mob? You were aware you weren’t dealing with ordinary criminals, but this made your blood run cold.

“We can deduct that Taehyung is in charge of representing the Jeons outside of the country during their deals and agreements” Jin looked through a file in his hand, his eyes focusing for a moment before looking back up at you “he got charged with Vehicular Manslaughter last year but a settlement was made between the victim’s family and Taehyung to resolve the issue with no jail time” Jin mumbled, closing the file and laying out in front of you.

“Spare me the attorney talk, he paid them out” you corrected, taking the file in your hands now and looking through the pages.

Jin rubbed the back of his neck and nodded “Yes, he paid them out.”

Charged with Vehicular Manslaughter last year? You sat silent for a moment, trying to piece together the information in your mind. Taehyung was not present at the time of your wedding because he was away in Paris and he had just returned when he attended your anniversary dinner which could only mean that it was plausible he had left Korea right after that accident.

“I've lost you Y/n, what's going through that hectic mind of yours?” Jin asked, bringing you back from your thoughts.

“Sorry, I’m just trying to collect all of this” You weren’t comfortable withholding information from Jin, he was helping you after all, but you didn’t want him to know how consumed you had become by this entire ordeal, you didn’t want him to worry.  

“Let me know if I’m going too fast” he chuckled nervously before turning to point at the board once more.

“Then we have Jung Ho-Seok, who is their legal advisor” Your attention was brought to the picture of a man whom you didn’t recognize, he hadn’t attended your dinner, and he wasn’t someone you had ever seen around the Jeons. “He graduated top of his class from Seoul National University School of Law, and he's a well-respected lawyer” Jin rolled his eyes and looked back at you “After me of course.”

You allowed yourself to smile, Jin had a way of easing the tension even in difficult situations and for the first time since you arrived, you took a breather. Perhaps it’s what made him such a good lawyer or maybe it's what made him such a good friend.

“And lastly we have Min Yoongi.”

 Your smile faded as you focused on his picture, you could hear your heart stop for a moment and then pound full throttle against your chest. your ally, the man to whom you had told all your dark desires to, he was an important asset in your plan and yet somehow you didn’t think you were prepared to hear what role he had been playing in this organization or if you even wanted to.

“Where do I begin” Jin sighed, grabbing another file into his hand but this one was much larger compared to Taehyung's or Jungkook’s, you blinked slowly, trying to suppress the pressure that built in your stomach. You knew Yoongi wasn’t a good person, he was just as involved in this life as Jungkook and his father but somehow you had made yourself believe that his evil had meaning, you had even been capable of putting yourself in his shoes.

“He’s the son of the late Mr. Min who died under suspicious circumstances, he was Mr. Jeon’s right hand and business partner” Jin hummed, his eyes scanning the documents in front of him, you hoped he wouldn’t notice the way you tensed, the way you had been unable to blink since he started talking about the Min’s – he couldn’t know that you had made a deal with someone like Yoongi.  

“I mean this kid has been charged with almost everything in the book, you name it” Jin huffed, and you could see his eyes trail as if he was reading off a list “Aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder, armed robbery, drug possession with intent to sell- “

Your throat went dry as Jin continued to name the many crimes Yoongi had been involved in and soon regret nestled itself comfortably in your consciousness. Was this the same man who promised to help you? the same one that made you feel reassured in your vengeance? You couldn’t be surprised, of course not. That night, the way he spoke, the way he carried himself, it came with experience.

You were just too consumed by your own personal gain that you overlooked it, because at that time it didn’t matter what kind of person he was, if he was helping you.

Did it even matter now?

You felt the room spin around you and you held onto the end of the table in front of you for support. You didn’t know what to think or how to feel, your mind and heart once again battling against each other. Your morality was now hanging by a loose thread, and you didn’t know if it was worth salvaging at this point.

“Should I continue?” Jin hummed, looking back up at you with raised brows.

You gulped and shook your head; Jin slid the file in front of you and this time you looked away. If Jungkook hadn’t worked so hard to keep his record clean then perhaps it would look the same as Yoongi’s, at least that’s what you tried to tell yourself because only then could you still keep some of your sanity.

Was Yoongi a reflection of who you would become if you continued down this path? Your desires were far too similar, both of your resentments intertwined.

Jin took in the pale tone of your skin, the way you bit down on your lips as you stared into nothing. Disassociating from the reality that he had worked so hard for you to see and in that moment, he didn’t feel proud like he did when he first stepped into the room. He felt guilty as if he was the one committing all these crimes or maybe just committing one by telling you all of this.

“Y/n” he whispered, taking a step closer to you. He reached forward and brushed his fingers against the skin of your arm, and you flinched out of your state, eyes blinking widely up at him.

“We should stop now” he announced, his voice low and soothing almost as if he was trying to persuade you but you shook your head and your lips trembled.

“I need to know everything” you protested. “I need this, I need to know all of this” you gulped, trying to repress the turmoil in your mind. You were not too proud to admit that you had bitten off more than you could chew but you would prefer to break your jaw than to give up on your freedom.

This was only the beginning and yet, there was no going back.

“We can continue this on another day, I think this is enough information for now” Jin replied, and you knew he was right, you were overwhelmed, and your thoughts were scattered. You couldn’t pinpoint one single emotion inside of you and it scared you. Anger, disappointment, and guilt came in waves, and it left you drowning in your own fears.

Yet, you repressed them, leaving them to be dealt with later.

“no” you muttered “it's actually not enough” Jin furrowed his brows at your determination, unable to tell what it was that you were thinking, what it was that you wanted out of all of this, but he gave in, you needed him and for him that was sufficient.

“The Jeon’s” he began again, his eyes remaining on you. His voice was a mere whisper as he carefully selected the words he spoke. “The jeon’s work like a bureaucratic system, almost like a political structure” You noted the way his tone lacked confidence, his words were reluctant, and his eyes held sadness.   

“Illegal activities are planned out and approved by superiors like Mr. Jeon and Jungkook” he cleared his throat once more, swallowing down as if there was acid in his mouth “and then are carried out by lower rank individuals who form part of the organization” you sat completely still, eyes focused but mind withdrawn.

“Besides the illegal sale of firearms, they have been linked with the distribution of drugs, gambling houses, speakeasy bars, night clubs, and strip clubs” Jin sighed “The only thing this family has not profited in is human trafficking” you bit down your lip and lowered your gaze.

Perhaps…

“Y/n, I don’t mean to intrude but what are you going to do with all of this?” Jin dropped the pointer stick on the table and slumped into the seat next to you. He appeared disgruntled; you could see the resignation in his eyes as you looked up at him while he asked you a question you no longer knew the answer to.

“I mean if the authorities are turning a blind eye to this, what will you do?”

You didn’t want to answer him, didn’t want to tell him the thoughts that went through your mind, but something inside you told you he already knew, you could see it in his eyes, he was just asking for confirmation. Your eyes filled with tears, and you allowed yourself to come to terms with the cards this life had dealt you.

You covered your face in frustration and hid yourself there for a moment. You couldn’t carry this weight all by yourself and taking the legal route was no longer an option. You had thought about this plenty of times and yet, you still feared losing yourself in the complexity of this situation.

You wanted your freedom more than anything.

More than anything….

You removed your hands from your face and your tired gaze traveled to meet Jin’s, his eyes were held wide open, and within them, you could see fear and agony.

Was he aware that he would never see the old Y/n again?

“Then I'll just be the monster they have made me.”

You couldn’t shake away the pulsating migraine that meeting had left you, a storm of thoughts consuming your mind with worries and doubt. You tried to hush the voice inside of you that screamed you were afraid, a warning coming from your gut as it too screamed at you to run. You tried to lie to yourself, attempting to find some kind of normality in all of this but you had been stretched out past your expectations.

You slid a cigarette between your lips and lit it, taking a long drag. The sun beamed down on you as you stood in front of the small café, the place that often brought you comfort now being the place in which you stood motionless, your thoughts incapacitating you.

Knowledge was power but at what cost?

It only nurtured your hatred and invoked a new feeling in you that you had long forgotten about when you began to plot against Jungkook and his family, pure trepidation.

You blew out smoke past your lips and dragged your hand over your face, attempting to gather yourself. You needed to stop pretending like you had everything under control because one thing was for sure, you had stepped into a lion's den with no weapons, with no experience, and without any idea of what you were facing.

This was bigger than you and you couldn’t help but shrink inside of the idea of what was to come.

You were startled by the sound of a car approaching, its tires pressing on the grabble underneath your feet making you blink up in a panic. The black escalade stopped in front of you and your body trembled.

Did Jungkook find you? fuck…what time was it?

You held up your watch, squinting your eyes as you made out the time, it had been over an hour and surely, Jungkook’s lapdog was already looking for you. You looked back at the café and your heart dropped. Jin was still in there, what if Jungkook found out what you were doing? You couldn’t risk putting Jin’s life in danger. You needed to come up with a lie that was convincing enough to explain all of this.

You got lost on your way back, you stopped for some coffee, anything.

But once you blinked back to the escalade, a man who you didn’t recognize stepped out. He wore an all-black suit, and his black shades blocked his eyes from the sun and from your eyes too, yet you were sure he wasn’t one of Jungkook's employees, and the smile he wore only confirmed it.

You shifted in the spot in which you stood, holding your breath as you prepared for the worst. If this wasn’t one of Jungkook’s men, then he was an enemy, and you didn’t know which of the two facts scared you the most.

“Ms. Y/n?” he asked.

Your body grew taught as apprehension flowed through you. who was this man? And how did he know who you were and how in the fuck did he find you here?

“y-yes” you responded, your voice shaking as the word escaped your mouth.

The man smiled at you once more and offered you a small nod.

“I didn’t mean to startle you Ma’am” he noticed the way your hand trembled as it held onto your cigarette, evidence of your panicked state “Mr. Min has sent for you” he explained and it was as if you had been punched in the stomach, a sudden need to hurl settling there.

You couldn’t stop Jin’s words from replaying in your mind, recalling all the violent crimes Yoongi had committed. his grand criminal record, a depiction of the kind of person he was. You took a step back and your chest rose and fell noticeably. You felt your knees buckle and surely you would soon find yourself on the ground.

You couldn’t repress the thought that you had made a mistake, a big mistake. Yoongi was a criminal, apparently the worst of them all. What would he do to you if you weren’t good enough as an ally? How stupid had you been to begin a relationship with someone you knew nothing about, with someone you couldn’t trust?

“Ma’am? I can just tell Mr. Min you are busy now.”  

You focused your eyes on the man once again, his head tilted as he waited for your answer. If you didn’t go it would be suspicious, he was your ally now, you couldn’t doubt your ally and then again, he was someone who had committed unspeakable crimes and you couldn’t erase the pictures of his victims from your mind. all the blood, all the damage, and all the terror.

If you crossed him, would you become another file in his criminal portfolio?

You needed to make a choice, there was no time to evaluate the situation. You had made this decision and now, you couldn’t backtrack no matter how much you wanted to. Ultimately this was what you had asked for, you needed a strong ally and that’s exactly what Yoongi was.

He was cruel and he was feared, even by you.

You dropped the cigarette from between your fingers and pressed down on it with your heel. You had no other choice but to hold your head high and pray that this would all soon be over.

“No uh-I’ll go” you said.

The man smiled at you once more and he moved to open the door for you. You looked back at the café one last time, hoping that Jin wouldn’t see this. That he would stay as oblivious as possible to what you were doing. although eventually, he would come to find out the kind of person you would have to become.

You slid inside the escalade and flinched once the door slammed shut beside you. There was nothing in this world that could ease your mind, everything that you were doing felt wrong but while you battled to keep your rationality a part of you felt thrilled. you were meeting a side of yourself that you didn’t know, someone who hadn’t been part of your conscious, or maybe they were there all along, hiding behind your deepest desires.

Urging you to be vindictive and you were feeding into it.

Regardless, one thing you knew for sure was that you were never going to be the same Y/n from a year ago, the naïve and weak girl who allowed herself to be put in this position in the name of love, in the name of honor. Even while finding your freedom, you would surely lose a part of yourself. Was it worth the sacrifice?

Yoongi’s smirk appeared in your mind, his words from that evening echoing in your ears, and then Ha-yoon’s… are you sure? Are you prepared? It hurt to say now that the answer was no but there was no going back, even if you tried to back paddle, there was no road left behind you. nothing to go back to.

The further the car moved from the café the deeper you had sunk within your thoughts, it wasn’t like you were second guessing yourself and you had promised that you would no longer be a victim to your circumstances, but you couldn’t help but question what you had done, you couldn’t help but feel regret for the choices you had made.

However, there was no feeling stronger than your resentment and it overpowered all rational thought forcing you to stand firm on your goal, regardless of the cost.

The escalade made a sharp turn into a long narrow road, and you peered out the tinted windows noticing how the scenery had shifted from tall skyscrapers to large trees, the car continued to move deeper into the woods, and you could tell you had been taken past the city lines, no longer being able to see any familiar landmarks and it only made you that much more uneasy.

You looked at the driver through the review mirror, he appeared calm, and you didn’t know if that was a good thing. The car reached the end of the road and then the driver made another sharp turn into an unpaved road this time, you could feel the wheels run over rocks and grabble, making the car shake for a moment. Your heart pounded harshly inside your chest, so much so that it drowned out the sound of the wheels crushing everything in its path but then your focus was drawn to the house that appeared before you.

Standing proudly amongst the trees, the grand mansion called for your attention, its large windows were blocked off by white curtains, and vines grew along the white-bricked structure, it was elegant and clean in contrast to the forest that surrounded it. The car made a stop in front of its entrance, and you could only assume this was one of Yoongi’s properties.

The driver exited the car and stepped to open the door, he gestured for you to proceed but for a moment you remained motionless, you didn’t think yourself prepared to face the man whom you had made your ally. Would he be able to see your uneasiness? Would he be offended by your mistrust?

Your feet felt heavy as you stepped forward and your heels dragged against the gravel underneath you. it wasn’t the best idea for you to be here, not after learning all that you had about the man who waited inside. You didn’t have enough time to make sense of all of this and you feared you would make another mistake.

Fuck.

You walked up the steps and stared at the door for a moment too long, pondering if this was the right decision. By this time your driver would be on a call with Jungkook, letting him know of your sudden disappearance, and then what would you do? What excuse would you be able to come up with to explain all of this? You hated that you had to even consider these things, things you wouldn’t need to do if you were free.

You raised your hand to ring the doorbell but before you could, the doors swung open and in front of you stood a woman wearing an all-black uniform, she offered you a smile. The kind of smile you only give to someone you know, and you couldn’t help but be tense under her gaze.

She bowed before you and then gestured for you to enter “Welcome Ms. Y/n, right this way” she spoke softly. Your steps faltered as you stepped inside, it felt like you were walking over landmines, and you grew dizzy once you heard the door close behind you. You turned to look at her once again but noticed her smile had remained.

The woman leaned down and collected your heels as they came off your feet, reaching to slide slippers in front of you. You stared at her for a moment and then slid your feet inside of them. You could feel every nerve rise within your body as the woman led you further into the home.

The various windows allowed the sun rays to seep inside, casting a golden shadow of tranquility inside of the space. You couldn’t help but compare this house to your own and it made your heart lurch in yearning. This felt like a home, the walls held comfort in a way only something that had witnessed happiness and memories could, and, in your mind, you struggled to connect this place to the criminal Yoongi was known to be.

It felt safe here in contrast to the unsettling feeling you had towards him now.

“Mr. Min is waiting for you here,” she said while stopping in front of tall wooden doors, she then bowed deeply and proceeded to leave you alone in the hallway. From within the doors, you could hear the soft sound of what appeared to be a piano. you shuffle momentarily, allowing an anxious huff to release past your lips.

You weren’t capable of seeing Yoongi in the same way you had only a few days prior, you had admired his perseverance, seeing yourself in him but now the reflection of that man was obstructed by his past and you didn’t know if you could continue to admire it. Your hand trembled as you reached to open the door and once again you were immersed in doubt.

Yoongi sat in front of the piano with his head lowered as his fingers graced the piano keys gently, his eyes were closed, and his brows furrowed as he concentrated on playing the melody you had heard from outside the doors. the song made you feel at ease, and you allowed yourself to step inside, entranced by his gentle and calm posture and yet again your brain struggled to attach those vicious crimes to the man who sat before you.

Yoongi pressed onto the last key, leaving the sound to echo in the air and then he raised his gaze onto you, his eyes distilling pleasure as his lips formed into a smirk but your eyes dropped to the floor, unable to hold his stare.

“You came” Yoongi rose from where he sat, taking a few steps towards you. Your eyes moved up once more at the sound of his voice and you took in his relaxed posture, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

“H-hello Mr. Min” you mustered to say yet it was nothing more than a whisper and Yoongi grinned in response.

“Call me Yoongi, I think we are past formalities.”

You felt goosebumps arise from your skin and you were reminded that the man who stood in front of you was an ally, a friend. Even if you were reluctant to admit it, even if you regretted your decision, that is what he was.

“Yoongi” you repeated, correcting your previous words.

“Yes, Yoongi” a smirk danced on his lips.

“I apologize for the short notice” he continued before you could speak again “I would’ve called had I had your number.”

His words held sincerity but something inside you didn’t allow you to believe this meeting would’ve gone any differently.

“Yeah,” you muttered, “about that, how did you find me?”

 You always ensured you were being discreet when meeting with Jin, and you were sure the café was a safe place but having been found by no other than Yoongi in the place you felt most at ease left you feeling unsettled.

It would come to seem that you weren’t safe anywhere.

“I did say I would find you, didn’t I?” he chuckled lowly which did nothing to calm your anxious thoughts. If this was anything, it was a demonstration of his power, of his influence.

Yoongi noticed the way your eyes shifted, your body tense and immobilized as he spoke, and his laugh subsided. You were scared, he had rattled you to your core with his intrusion and he knew that. 

“You were in my territory” he admitted, gulping down the liquid in his glass. 

“Actually, you spend a lot of time in my territory, and I can’t quite be convinced it’s because you like Mi Cha’s coffee.”

Mi Cha? You didn’t even know the owner's name. You always called them auntie and uncle and you were there almost every weekend. He wasn’t bluffing, you were in his territory. How long had he been keeping tabs on you? how many times did he send men to observe your every move? Did he know about Jin? Fuck, you were fucked. Did he know who you were before you approached him that night?

Of course, he did, after all, you are his enemy's wife.

You clawed at your brain for an excuse; you needed him to believe that any visit made to that café was innocent but fooling someone like Yoongi was not going to be easy.

Another chuckle abrupted from his chest as he stepped towards his bar, reaching for the bottle of whiskey and pouring himself another drink.

“Relax, we are allies but that doesn’t mean that you have to share all your secrets with me” he reached for another glass and prepared it, this time stepping closer to you and extending out his hand for you to take.

“I don’t care about what you have going on in my territory as long as it doesn’t threaten my business” his voice was smooth, comforting even but his eyes were cold and withdrawn.

You took the cup from his hand and nodded, before taking a drink from the bitter-sweet liquid.

“Why did you reach out to me?” you asked, feeling braver than before.

“Ah yes” he exclaimed, “I heard about your father-in-law’s upcoming campaign.”

You grimaced at the words, recalling the distasteful conversation you had with Mr. Jeon regarding his future plans and how he needed you to assist him. You took another drink from your glass and then your eyes met with Yoongi’s.

“Yes,” you huffed “it appears he has grown aspirations to be a politician.”

Yoongi chuckled once again, shaking his head at your words.

“No, it is not that he wants to be a politician” he corrected which made you attentive. logically what man like Jungkook’s father would want to deal with the pressure and labor that came with the job of a governor, not when he was used to a life of easy money.

“He wants to be in control” Yoongi shrugged. “Control the police that arrest his men, control the authorities that stop his drugs and weapons from coming into the country” Yoongi spoke nonchalantly as if he was just holding a simple conversation, disregarding the actual words that were coming out of his mouth.

Your stomach flipped inside out and the taste of the whiskey on your tongue turned sour. The answer had always been there, yet you were still too naïve to put the pieces together, it was never about aspirations or going legit. It was always about power.

You felt your jaw lock and that anger, the one you have fed for months, made its presence known inside of you. Yoongi may have been right, but you wouldn’t allow any of those things to happen.

“The real question here is what are you and I going to do to stop it.”

You held onto your words, you trusted him less than you ever did before but once again he was the only one willing to help you set this plan in motion, and at this point, it didn’t matter that Yoongi was a violent criminal because just as the night of your anniversary he was willing to help you.

“I say we let him continue with his campaign” you suggested, shrugging your shoulders.

“And why would that bring us any good?” Yoongi responded, raising his eyebrows in confusion.

“I thought you were a smarter man” You grinned, and Yoongi chuckled in response.

“Enlighten me then.”

“Initially I was repulsed by the idea of helping the Jeons but after learning how they work; and what kind of people they are I’ve concluded that we should give them what they want.”

“Mhmm and why is that?”

“Because only then can we expose all their crimes, they get away with all of this now because they can buy out half the police in a second, they surely have the money to do so but once Mr. Jeon becomes a public figure, a governor and the corruption goes public, how will they hide then?” 

“And what about his son?”

“What about him?”

There was silence whilst you and Yoongi stared at each other, his eyes were defiant and yours faltered under his glare.

“Jungkook won't think twice to retaliate if his family is threatened, even if you are his wife” his eyes stared into you menacingly, as if taunting you and you couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable “Do you think yourself capable of ending his life If given the opportunity?”

The question sat heavy in your mind. Would you? A part of you wanted to eagerly say yes, to assure Yoongi that he didn’t have anything to worry about, that Jungkook was a criminal, the person behind all your suffering but you hesitated to respond, unable to find the words to agree, why couldn’t you agree?

Yoongi lowered his gaze and cleared his throat, masking his discomfort with a chuckle.

“I guess we will have to see” he breathed then his eyes trailed back to yours “Just know I will be capable of that and much more Y/n and I hope that this doesn’t turn us into enemies down the line.”

In that moment you don’t understand his words, he was your ally. Why would you become an enemy if he were to come for Jungkook but if your silence was a demonstration of anything it was that you didn’t know the answer to that question, and it only conflicted you further and it permitted Yoongi to wither in doubt.

“I've set up a meeting with some people I want you to meet” Yoongi quickly changed the subject, allowing you to take a breath despite all the tension.

“They are individuals who have wanted to come after the Jeons for a while and are willing to offer us their resources, I hope you can find a way to make it to this meeting, I think it will be very important” Yoongi continued, pacing around the large office.

Would these men be dangerous like him?

“Uhm yeah just let me know the time and place and I'll be there” you spoke confidently, holding back the knot in your throat.

“don’t worry this time I'll take down your phone number” Yoongi promised, a small laugh falling from his lips.

“Oh, so no more abrupt kidnappings in order to see me?” you challenged.

Yoongi smirked and his eyes flashed with a certain darkness you couldn’t describe; it made chills go down your spine and you felt yourself shrinking under his gaze.

“don’t tempt me” he muttered.

“Have you ever shot a gun?” Yoongi followed up, approaching you once again.

A gun? This man had a way of fucking with your composure and you hated it.  

You shook your head slowly, eyes beaming at Yoongi as he reached behind his back and pulled out a gun from his waistband, the black weapon glistened under the sunlight as he held it out in his palm. Yoongi admired it as if it was a piece of art while your body trembled in its presence and then everything came back to you and the bravery that the whiskey had given you soon disappeared.

The man who was standing before you was dangerous. 

You were standing in Yoongi’s home with his men and no protection. In the middle of the woods where no one could hear you, where no one could save you. If he shot you right now who would come to rescue you, who would mourn you?

You were alone.

“This is a Glock 17; It’s low weight and has a magazine capacity of 17 rounds.”

Yoongi reached for your hand and laid the gun there, but you didn’t try to grasp it, letting it sit there as you struggled to rip your eyes away from it. You had never seen one in person before, much less held one in your hand. It was heavy and cold against your skin, and you couldn’t stop your throat from going dry.

“I'll teach you how to use it,” he said, and your eyes trailed back to his.

“So that you can protect yourself, even from me.”

𝐇𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬! 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝! 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 & 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮!

𝐈 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲! 𝐢 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲.

𝐢 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 @sumzysworld , 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠!

𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤/𝐝𝐦 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

© 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

@ane102,@thisartemisnevermisses,@jamlessstars,@cookysstuff,@gyeomibearr,@multiasf ,@lydinews,@vminkookgf,@chl0buggy, @peterstarkchrishiddleston , @koostrawberry , @jcrl99 , @coree730 , @melodiesforari , @taemond-in-the-ruff , @whoa-jo @jksusawife , @hoseoksluv89 , @piecesofapril11 , @coralmusicblaze , @junecat18 , @amiradumas , @mageprincess7 , @heartjiminie , @parkinglot-nights , @douknowbts , @str4gguk , @sarzkh31, @jjk970971 , @xwniazx, @jalexad, @hubbytaehyung, @wobblewobble822, @llallaaa, @gojosatoruhere,

[emptyjunior]

I'm rewatching Starstruck in the break, can I say I DESPERATELY would have loved to have seen this intergalactic chase across the stars from the Other Side😭

Like okay, campaign where you're a crew of kooky spacers on the run, classic, fun, oh the adventures we had.., can you Imagine what this story would have been like from the pursuers side? From Lucienne and UFTP?

You're Lucienne and you just got SCREWED on the corporate ladder and are already dealing with some rich trust fund kid DYING yet also leaving you in Charge of an insane company.

And during that you find out oh my god the world might be destroyed?? And there's a Princeps who has a super special computer that will decide the fate of the universe? So you stash them away to keep them safe and go back to covering up the murder you might be to blame for, because universe destroying computer is like priority TWO right now.

And then you find out?? Your ex lover friend has become a pirate???! And has STOLEN the princeps??! AND THE WORLD ENDING COMPUTER??! And quit??! And posted Nudes to the world??! And they look amazing?

So okay okay new priority is FIND THEM right NOW so you send all the resources in the world to go snatch them up which should be easy enough because you've seen them run, they're literally a weak and flailing office worker in a pencil skirt.

Welp! Next report comes in and they exploded a building with sex putty??? And decimated a fleet of the best fighters you can hire? And had time to go to a dogshow in between???

Fine, okay, it's fine because you KNOW they'll slip up again and they do! They show up,,., in a live stream? Partying with the ceo of space uber?? In a casino? That they just OPENED? WHILE THEY'RE ON THE RUN?!

So you go to that planet and go to contact the sheriff and his Head is on a Fucking Spike because your Friend absolutely wasted him? And kicked every police officer out of town so the whole town could go super super hard for space burning man?

And have escaped Again.

So now you're in some kind of room with like 20 screens and probably two blackberries in each hand, going full manhunt. Face recognition software, algorithms, zooming in on photos and yelling Enhance.

And you find them! And they👏 are👏 at👏 Disneyland👏! What! The! Fuck!

You send your best guys again! (And also??! These 'best guys' maybe have a space slug in their skull that's going to end the world! Can't even focus on that rn!). And then when they get back, happy and proud they show you the Princeps that they've captured and it's god damned thin air! Because it was a hologram and this dumb sonuva bitch is zonked out of his mind from a fish psychic. Great, of course. Of Course.

You're being hounded by your company, you still don't know where your 'dead fiance' is, you're running out of time. How are you ever going to find them- You check your phone they are doing a hunger games at Las Vegas. And a rival company has made them influencers. And they're famous.

Of course.

But you do pull it off in the end! You get them! You imprison them! And their one fatal flaw? They decided to reunite one of their crew members with their birth mother while being wanted criminals.

So that's the chase you got them (they escape again of course they escape, and the birth mother turns out to be a Hell of a business woman and maybe just did a masterful corporate maneuver on you.)

And it's so important to know that this entire time you've been chasing a Big Hot Dog.

[yarochan]

MAFIA AU lmk

Everything is based on general information about the mafia in the world and in China.

There may be inaccuracies and inconsistencies in the AU. This is not accidental. All actions take place within the criminal world. There will be cruelty, blood, and violence.

Briefly about the important things..

Difficult times have come in China, many people had to commit crimes in order to survive by any means. Pigsy, Tan, and Sandy made a deal with Wukong by joining his Triad and being under his protection, but in exchange they worked for him. A little later, Sandy escaped, at the moment his whereabouts and status are unknown.

MK was also planted and raised by Pigsy and Tang, he was literally raised by the street and the mafia. Until he reached adulthood - to the surprise of everyone, Wukong did not touch the boy - but on the day of his 18th birthday, he put forward conditions for joining a family.

At the moment, MK is a boy doing dirty work that Wukong doesn't want to do. Surprisingly, they are very close, and Wukong initiates the boy into all current affairs.

In China, as in other countries of the world, there are their own criminal groups. The most famous of them, called the "Triad," have been clandestinely engaged in criminal activities in the PRC for several centuries. 

Current Triads in China

The Triad of Dragons

The largest and most influential mafia family in China, in addition, they do not have one common boss and they are known in all corners of China (Dragon of the West, East, etc.). Their activities are connected with casinos and some large companies in the country that they finance. They are little known for their murders, but who says that their life path could not have turned out that way?

The first head of the family was May's great-great-great-great-great-grandfather, he actually raised the authority of the triad in the criminal world, which persists to this day.

The Bull Triad

Information about the leadership of the princess iron fan

A female boss is a rarity in mafia circles, but when it's a wife or a trusted person who can curb several thousand thugs, it's a completely different matter. With the loss of her husband, she also lost all influence in the criminal world, since everyone remembers her police past and simply does not trust her.  

Out of desperation, she took up the mafia's dirtiest niche - drug distribution in China. She got rid of all the traitors and weaklings and restored her family's influence in China. approx. Previously, the Triad was engaged in the supply of weapons together with Wukong.

The Wukong Triad  

Second in influence, but last in numbers. Large families differ in the number of members and high staff turnover; the Wukong family is only those whom he really trusts and those who are fixated on negotiations with the most armed countries in Europe.

No one thought that Wukong would be able to achieve anything in criminal circles, but after an unsuccessful attempt on the head of the police station, he surprisingly quickly blew up into the air.   At the moment, the family has contracts with the head of state and people who are not averse to buying several thousand cars. The family is not bloodthirsty, but enters into armed conflicts to protect and collect debts.

The Lady Bone Demon Triad

A little-known family, all spies and informants were executed by the boss of this triad.   It is known that the family removes quite influential people from their places, destroys groups and conducts a very aggressive policy.

If we talk about the relationship of the triads, it is worth noting that at the moment all the Active groups are angry at Wukong, for one reason or another. There is periodic bloodshed on all sides because of these disagreements.

No one is focused on the LBD, but it is the main danger (as in the series).

All the heavenly ones are the police or representatives of any other organization for the protection of citizens in the country (the special services of the People's Republic of China). Of course, their task is to stop the activities of the triads, but who says they can't be under the mafia?  

A little bit about the characters and their designs

MK

is a performer, that is, the youngest member of the family. He was accepted into the group through a traditional rite of passage - he drank wine with his blood and swore an oath of loyalty to the Boss.

It seems that Wukong treats the boy with some love, but at the same time, MK is most often involved in armed conflicts, as well as in other similar work, such as debt collection / fights / etc.

His mother is an employee of the police station, until a certain moment the baby did not even know about it, a little later there was a conflict between parents and the child.

Red Son

He belongs to the Wukong triad, but is not a member of it, such are commonly called mercenaries, but Red san came to Wukong of his own free will and swore allegiance to him on his blood until it became known what had become of his father.

Red escaped from the Bull Triad because before the return of the KDB, the PVJ allowed his family to trade drugs in order to maintain authority among other groups. But besides the fact that this is the most disgusting kind of activity, even by mafia standards, Red also grew up surrounded by police officers, former colleagues of his mother. Some kind of moral framework was laid down for him and he simply feels disgusting.

Red has tattoos all over his back and arms, which is the main distinguishing sign of the mafia, although it is not mandatory in modern triads. Red's mother did this as soon as the child's body was formed, because after losing her husband, she wanted to see a new wealthy boss of the family, since it was very difficult for her alone.

Mei

She belongs to the Wukong triad but is not a member of it, such are commonly called mercenaries, but he is under the protection of the group because of MK at his request. Thus, the MK will be responsible for Mei's tests, but the girl will never allow this.

A daughter in a mafia family is certainly a joy, but apart from traditionally finding a faithful husband from the same criminal world to continue the family, and be a beautiful background for men, May could not offer anything more. She ran away from her triad, hoping to realize herself in the world.

The girl is an excellent gambler and cheater, knows a lot of card games and will be able to beat you even if she is naked.

All her legs are filled with tattoos, especially this image of a Chinese dragon with a lotus. She did it against the will of her parents, and her tattoos do not belong to the criminal world in any way.

Wukong

The head of the family and a respected citizen of his country. The main goal of his triad is to supply weapons throughout the country.

He used to be an ordinary thug who didn't value his own life or anyone else's. During this period, the police even took him away, but he escaped safely, tore up the entire station along the way, climbed into the office of the chief of police, wrote nasty things, stole important documents and photographed this outrage and sent the newspaper to the editorial office. It was a wonderful morning for the representatives of the law.

At the beginning of the journey, I worked with an organization, they called themselves the Brotherhood. But Wukong himself prefers not to talk about them.

He appreciates MK, sees him as a replacement for Macaque, and is afraid of losing him, as well as his best friend.

Macaque

He is an assassin in the LBD triad, a subordinate of the mayor and the second favorite of the Lady.

According to the newspapers, he has been dead for several years, buried without a body, and, according to Wukong, in principle, he is not in this world.

In one of the skirmishes, he was severely wounded and subsequently abandoned by Ukun, as he thought he had lost him. The LBD found him in a deplorable state and took him under its wing.

She was cold, and he had burns incompatible with life, so they came together.

The Macaque harbored a grudge against Wukong and never wanted to meet him after this incident, he believes that he did it on purpose, knowing that the Macaque was alive, in his opinion, Sun Wukong deserved only revenge. He learned about MK from informants in the LBD. The boy became his target.

For him, the preferred method of killing is to act in the shadows, quietly and without noise, that is, covertly.

Pigsy

Kapa, or one of the leaders, monitors the actions of MK, Mei, Red San, Teng.

The noodle shop is in place (acts as a typical mafia bar) and still works, delighting visitors with noodles. However, there is now an automatic revolver and several combat knives behind the counter. But it's true...just in case.

Tang

An informant of the Triad, surprisingly he knows everything that ordinary people could not know and does not know what everyone knows. In principle, otherwise it's still the same Tang, only now in a leather jacket and tattoos on his arms.

Ne zha

Inspector of the 3rd class of the China police in the status of a detective working on the case of Sun Wukong under the leadership of Erlan.

Not to say that he is the most successful detective, because somehow Wukuna always turns out to be one step ahead.

After several years of work, he has become so used to Wukong that he can meet him in a bar and tell him how things are at the police station, simultaneously throwing mats towards the Boss of the group. Maybe during this time they just became good friends? Who knows.

Recently, the mafia has begun to shed more blood, so the investigation and investigation have resumed with renewed vigor.

Sorry if there are mistakes in the text, I hope you like it!!!

[ordinaryschmuck]

David Zaslav is on the phone as he enters his office.

David: It's nothing personal, it's just business. But don't worry, once another buyer offers eighty million, you'll have your property back. Okay? Okay. Goodbye, Mom. Love you.

He hangs up and notices a package left on his desk.

David: Huh. That's peculiar.

He walks over and sees that it's addressed to him. With a shrug, he opens it up.

*WHACK*!

And gets hits in the face with a springy boxing glove.

***

A burlap sack is ripped off David's head. He looks around and sees he's in a form of a warehouse, with the only light being the shining above him. In the shadows, he hears a crunch of somekind.

???: Eh, *tsk-tsk* What's up, Doc?

Out from the shadows comes Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Porky Pig, Yosemite Sam, and even Foghorn Leghorn. They do NOT look happy.

David: Who...Who ARE you? WHAT are you?

Sam: OOOOOOOOOOOH!

He pulls out his guns.

Sam: Now I KNOW y'all didn't just say that you--

Bugs waves a hand in front of Sam.

Bugs: It's okay, Sammy Boy. Can't blame da poor, dumb, foolish suckah. (To David) Do ya know who Mickey Mouse is, Doc?

David: Is...that who you are?

Daffy: Doeth he look like a MOUTHE, you buffoon?!

Bugs: Daf. (To David) Mickey's the mascot of Disney, YOUR competitor. Fer bettah or woise, he represents da company. And to dis day is the backbone dat made Disney what it is. As for me and my compatriots, dat's who WE are for Warner Brudders.

David: I-I'm the CEO of Warner Brothers DISCOVERY.

Foghorn: Which is, I say, which is the result of merging with WARNER BROTHERS, ya dumb pig! No offense, Pork.

Porky: N-N-No-No-No offense taken.

Bugs: (To David) Ya see, Doc, we're da Looney Tunes. Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Porky Pig, Foghorn Leghorn, and Yosemite Sam. Ya see, while Walter was makin' the mouse dat would rule the world wid a goofy cartoon mouse that entertained the kiddies, we's was making some CLASS. Cartoons dat dee adults AND kids could appreciate, wid witty dialogue and cartoonish slapstick. Me and Daf, here? We made bank off a short where we discussed who got shot by Elmer Fudd, where da joke was ALWAYS Daffy getting hit.

Daffy: Took a lot of shotth to make that comedy gold. LIterally.

Bugs: And it worked. Wid a poifect simple premise dat people always remember, wid people going "Wabbit Season, Duck Season" to dis day. Dat's who we are, Doc...And ya messed it all up.

Sam: Ya messed with the WRONG pardners, Davie!

David: H-How? How did I mess with you?!

Bugs: Hey, don't feel too bad. Warner Brudders' have been messing wid us for years, but we always took it on the chin. Dey want us to do TWO basketball movies? Dey want us to get rid of Pepe Le Pew? Why not. He stunk anyway and we wanted him out for years. Dey want our iconic image for an animated sitcom? We did it. 'Cause we're da Looney Tunes. We can sell ANYTHING.

Porky: I-I-I actually l-l-li-lo-li-lo--Really enjoyed the sitcom.

Bugs: Okay, it can be argued dat da sitcom is criminally underrated, but dat's besides the point. What I'm getting at is dat we're willing ta sell anything just as long as we get some of dat green ourselves. But ya made a mistake, Doc. Ya see, you went after one of our own.

He makes a "come here" gesture, and both Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner come out from the shadows as well, with Road Runner comforting the Coyote.

Bugs: Pepe Le Pew is one thing. We understand that his sense of humor doesn't fit well wid dis day and age. But Wile? Oh brudder, why did ya have to mess wid him?

David: What did I do to him?!

Bugs: Coyote Vs. ACME. Ringin' any bells?

David: That...movie no one wants to buy?

Bugs: A movie ya overselled for a quick buck. A movie dat people worked night and day on. A movie written by James Gunn, yer golden boy who you have fixin' yer DC franchise.

Foghorn: Which is, I say, which is a whole DIFFERENT can a worms.

Bugs, ignoring him: A movie dat stars our very own Wile E. Coyote. A character who's toons and silly antics are timeless and, I'll admit, makes bank better than me. Wit no dialogue, just expressions and goofy signs, him and da Road Runner are characters where the possibility is limited by da power of imagination. And a movie where he sues ACME over their failed gadgets? Well, I'd watch that. Wouldn't you, boys?

The others all murmur in agreement.

David: Well, it might not make a profit--

Bug: Space Jam 2 made TWICE of what yer trying ta sell Wile's movie for. Ya would think that a man desperate to make money would release a film featuring their most iconic brand to get him MORE money. But, no, that's what a GOOD business man would do.

David: Please! I-It wasn't anything personal! I didn't even WATCH the movie!

The Tunes all stare at him.

Bugs: ...Ya didn't WATCH it?

David: N-No?

Bugs: You were willing to sell, shelve, and even DELETE a movie from existence because ya don't think it won't make a profit. Except ya nevah THOUGHT ta watch it yerself and make yer judgment?

David: ...Running a business is REALLY hard--

Bugs: You MAROON. You marooniest maroon that's ever marooned. I can't even comprehend how not only did you get yer job but how ya STILL have a job despite all da STOOPID decisions you've made in--How long has he been in charge?

Porky: A-A-A--Nearly t-two years, boss.

Bugs: TWO YEARS. Ya've been in charge for TWO YEARS and managed to cost da studio so much money that ya could compare it to da GREAT DEPRESSION! If Disney loses dat money, dey can make it back wid anothah Marvel movie or a live action remake of Moana! WE ain't Disney, Doc! We need every dime we get and we're losin' it because a YOU!

David: ...

Bugs: Honestly, we was initially thinkin' a beatin' the snot out a yous and leaking da movie to da public. But now? Woof. NOW I know yer as dumb as an animal. And an animal needs to be treated as an animal.

He pulls out a dog whistle and gives it a blow. Within seconds, a small, brown tornado bursts through a wall in the warehouse and zooms over to the group, stopping its spin to reveal The Tasmanian Devil.

Bugs: Have ya heard of the Tasmanian Devil, David? Who am I kidding, of COURSE ya haven't. Well, let's just say that he'd be happy to meet you.

Taz looks at David, licks his lips, and starts jumping for joy as he heads over to him.

David: No. No! NOOOOOOOOOOOO--

***

David stands before a press conference, clothes torn up and his body bandaged.

David: I am now announcing that I'm stepping down as CEO of Warner Brothers Discovery...And as my last act, I will release Coyote Vs. ACME to the public.

Reporter: And are you going to release Batgirl too?

David: Well, no, that movie's unreleasable--

A batarang lands in front of him.

David: ...Batgirl and Coyote Vs. ACME. Both coming soon...to a theater or streaming service near you.

[silencedrowns]

Wig Seller Masterlist

Some people on were asking if I had a post about this and I didn’t, so I thought I’d make a big master post of wig companies I like! It’s in alphabetical order, with information about them listed afterwards. Currently I have fifteen brands on this list, but if I try and am really impressed by another, I’ll add it. I hope maybe one of them has that hard to find wig you’ve been searching for! I have the color samples for Arda, Assist, Classe, Coscraft, Cyperous, Kasou, and Swallowtail and am willing to help you check if a color from them is correct or not.

Airily

Japan only brand, so you’ll need a shopping service. Wide range of colors, including some that are hard to match in other lines, and a lot of base styles that I like more than other brands. Sells both wefts and lace front pieces. Lace hairline wigs are also available. Fit is medium (not particularly large or small). Price is higher. Swatch book not available.

Alice Garden/aiyaya

Amazon wig brand selling lolita/natural looking wigs. The variety is not good but if they have something that looks like what you need to wear with very little styling, you won’t get something as nice for the price! Styles are all very natural looking. Fit is on the smaller end of medium. Price is low. Swatch book not available.

Aoi Wig

Taobao brand doing character wigs, so a shopping service is required. These are hands down the best character wigs I’ve ever worked with. If you don’t want to do a ton of styling and they have the character you want, you literally cannot go wrong here. Fiber isn’t the world’s most durable but will hold up for multiple wears, and the price is good enough to make up for it. Fit is slightly small but larger than most taobao wigs. Price is a bit high for taobao but is still dirt cheap for what you get. Swatch books not available but the photo color is exceedingly accurate.

Arda Wigs

American based. One of the most common brands for a REASON! Wide range of colors in a wide range of styles. If you have a larger head or a lot of hair, this is your new best friend. They sell lace fronts but not individual lace pieces. The big problem with them, however, is the stock issues. Colors run out quickly so sometimes you have to compromise on which style you buy, or place an order from one of their sister sites in another country that actually has the color you need. (OOPS this is no longer an option anymore! Luckily there are a lot of Arda wigs secondhand online.) Nobody has as much hair in their wigs as they do, which can actually be a problem in some styles; be prepared to pluck lace fronts and use thinning shears. Fit is LARGE; they have the largest wigs in the market. Price is a bit high but not exorbitant. Swatch rings are available for both their fiber types

Assist

Japanese brand, ships worldwide but EMS/fedex only so you’ll probably want to group order. Nobody in the market has as many colors as Assist; between their premium and basic lines, they have over 600 colors! DO NOT TRUST THEIR PRODUCT PHOTOGRAPHY TO PICK COLORS; you need to buy their swatch books or ask a friend who has them to help you choose, because those photos can be criminally inaccurate. If you ever order from them, buy a bottle of Face Cover Glue and watch it change your life as “wig sticks away from face and face framing pieces move out of place” become a distant memory, and I adore their contacts! They sell wefts and lace pieces in their premium line but not their basic. Price varies; Premium line is a great price for what you get, but Basic is incredibly cheap (but not quite as good quality). Fit is small; based on how they fit my clients they’re the smallest of the Japanese brands and if you’ve ever found taobao wigs too small, assist will probably also be too small for you. Swatch books or rings are available and also required.

Blue Beard

Taobao character wig brand, so shopping service is required. Blue Beard wigs are all affordable and decent. You won’t ever get a bad wig from them, but I’ve found that their wigs tend to require a lot of maintenance. Wide range of characters! No wefts available. When you find stolen taobao wig photos, more often than not they’re stealing from Blue Beard. The photos are all color accurate, but you’ll typically need to do a lot of styling to make the wig match the photo. Price is great for what you get. Fit is medium to small. No swatches available.

Classe

Japanese brand that requires a shopping service but oh what a brand it is. Classe has a wide range of colors but where it truly excels is in the range of extra styling supply options. You can buy lace front pieces, yes, but you can also buy stand alone skin top pieces in center whorl or long for parts. No brand is as flexible with what you can do with their wigs, not by a long shot. Make sure to check out their styling blog! Even if it’s all in Japanese, the diagrams are clear and the techniques are genuine life savers. The fiber is beautiful and the website’s color suggestion feature where the desktop version tells you a list of characters they’d use this color for makes picking colors a lot easier. You’ll pay a lot for them, but what you get will be worth it. I’ve been using them a lot lately because no other brand’s fiber is as easy to make behave like human hair. Naturalistic wig stylists and cosmetology people, this brand is for you! Fit is up to 59cm (!!) and is roomy in the hairline coverage to the point some people have to trim the ear tabs a bit shorter, although it’s my personal comfiest fit. (Upon further testing: Classe’s fit is going to be perfect for you if you’ve ever tried an Arda lacefront and found it somehow a bit too big in the cap but too skimpy in the ear and hairline coverage at the same time.) Swatch books are available and affordable.

Coscraft

Based in the UK but ships worldwide despite being way too unknown outside Europe. Coscraft is an absolute gem of a site with a wide range of colors (more than 80!) with plenty of unusual color options that aren’t found anywhere else that doesn’t need a shopping service, a decently large variety of base styles to choose from, and wefts and separate lace front pieces and stick on skin tops in every color. Unlike every other cosplay brand on the planet, their lace front pieces come in dark brown lace for darker skinned cosplayers and not just beige! (The skin top pieces are only in beige so far but hopefully they will work on this.) Also for some reason they sell ridiculously inexpensive corset coutil so for all the craftsmanship people, new source acquired! Even if you’re outside of Europe, Coscraft is so nice that it’s hard to believe their prices. When the pound is up vs your currency, they’re shockingly affordable. When the pound is down vs your currency, the quality per money feels straight up illegal. This is my current go to cosplay wig site for a reason. Fit is larger medium; it won’t be too big or too small on most people. Color swatch ring is available.

Cyperous

Japanese cosplay wig source that theoretically ships EMS outside Japan but I haven’t been able to get that to work for years so shopping service it is. Pour one out for Cyperous; they’re clearly in decline but as one of the original heat resist brands, they’re still here and still worth ordering from while you can. Nobody has as beautiful and delicate blondes as Cyperous; their Milky and White Milky are the best blondes I’ve ever used. They have a nice selection of lace wigs and the much rarer lace bang wigs as well as regular wigs, and wefts of course. No other brand I’ve seen has synthetic wigs that photograph as much like real hair as Cyperous. They can tangle a lot as a result but it’s worth the upkeep. I have no idea how long they’ll keep limping along, but look them up before it’s too late. Price is high but reasonable for what it is. Fit is a true medium. Swatches used to be available and no longer seem to be, but the photos are pretty accurate to my ancient swatch ring and newer wigs.

Five Wits Wigs

Five Wits is the most criminally underrated of the American wig companies because most of their stock photos suck. They really, really, really suck. The photos are somehow incredibly color accurate but represent the wigs as pulled directly from bag and plopped onto someone’s head or a mannequin without even combing them in a flattering way. I wrote them off until I got to see their booth at a con and realized quickly that these wigs are wonderfully made with beautiful fiber that typically photographs like a dream (how do they get such bad stock photos?!) and is so easy to style! Five Wits mostly stocks character wigs, but many of them are versatile enough to use for tons of other things and they offer wefts for some of their colors. The owners are friendly, the service is great, the actual wigs are beautiful, the price for what you get is wonderful, but those dang stock photos keep people from noticing why Five Wits is one of my favorite suppliers! Price is great for what you’re getting, especially for an American brand. The fit is larger end of medium (very few people find it too big or too small). They don’t carry swatch books but every single stock photo, despite being terrible, is an incredibly accurate depiction of the color so feel free to judge colors accordingly.

Kasou

I almost hesitate to put Kasou on here considering that one of the problems with them is that their shipping when it’s from their Chinese warehouse is occasionally “good luck getting your wig”, and I disqualified another past favorite of mine for this, but Kasou squeaked onto this list for two reasons: 1) their fiber and wigs really are spectacular and 2) they have the ONLY Jolyne Kujo pre made wig that I don’t hate. Order from them with confidence that whatever you get will be nice, but keep in mind that there are enough people who’ve had issues with wigs from their Chinese warehouse that you want to give yourself months of lead time if you go that route. They have a decent if slightly expensive price range, medium cap fit, and they do offer swatches. I NO LONGER RECOMMEND KASOU. I still stand by their products being nice, but there have been too many extremely expensive packages lost in the mail with them refusing to refund/replace among cosplayers I know for me to put them as a recommendation. If you order from here, do it with caution.

L-Email / wig-supplier

Not everyone needs premium wigs for heavy styling all the time, and that’s where L-Email comes in. This Chinese-based seller that ships internationally will sell you decent character wigs and decent base wigs for an incredibly affordable price. Nothing from here is going to be spectacular, but if your budget is low and you’re willing to put in a bunch of effort to make up for that, what you need is just a plain wig without tons of styling, or you want a character wig that’s a bit easier to upgrade with extra styling work than other brands because the hardest parts are typically done for you, L-Email is a great option for you. They’re just all around decent, and sometimes that’s what you need. Fit is medium, prices are pretty affordable especially if you go in with friends for shipping, and there aren’t swatches but the photos are typically pretty color accurate.

Sepia

One of the absolute oldest wig companies based in America; every cosplayer active before 2007 has bought at least one Sepia wig. They’re still here though, and now they have some heat resist lace fronts! Their range of fantasy colors is pretty atrocious but if you want some beautiful natural colors, you could do worse than shop here, especially considering there’s at least one more expensive brand (that I’m not putting in this list) that sources lace fronts from Sepia and resells! Fit is medium, price is medium, I haven’t bothered to see if they have swatches because I’m an ancient cosplayer and have the typical Sepia color codes memorized.

Swallowtail

If you’ve heard of this Japanese (shopping service required) wig brand before, it’s probably because the canon wigs in My Dress-Up Darling all come from Swallowtail. There’s more reasons than flexing about how you have the canon Shizuku-tan wig to consider Swallowtail, though! They have a massive color range with a lot of colors I’ve seen nowhere else in the world, and while the fiber isn’t the world’s most durable and is a bit shiny for my tastes in some colors, they’re affordable enough to be a competitive option even if you have to use a shopping service from outside Japan. They offer a full range of wefts and lace pieces and clip ons and a wide variety of base styles. The fit seems to be pretty true medium, and they definitely offer swatches (in the most chaotic ring setup I’ve ever seen. You’ll want to resort that one fast.)

Sylvia_Wig

You can get a lot of decent lace fronts perfect for minimal styling on AliExpress, but Sylvia is my hands down favorite. If you need a natural looking lace front and you don’t want to spend tons of money, this seller is where you should be looking first. There aren’t any swatches or wefts, true, but the wigs have so much more lace than any of the American or Japanese cosplay wig brands, the caps run much larger than most taobao/aliexpress brands (comparable to Kasou or Five Wits), and there’s still plenty of hair to do more basic styles. The fiber is a bit thin and shiny, but it still photographs like a dream, and dollar for dollar you won’t find a better balance between quality lace front and budget friendliness than here. The hairlines are so natural that I have a few from here that haven’t required a single hair plucked to just… melt into my skin. There’s a reason this is my go to first source if I want a lace front and it’s not going to be heavily anime styled (like JoJo or Dragon Ball or whatever). Color stock photos are incredibly accurate; you can trust that what you see is what you’ll get!

since people have sent me asks about this: I do not recommend Epic Cosplay at all anymore. Their construction quality has drastically decreased in recent years to the point I keep getting people asking me to help fix Epic wigs that are literally falling apart, which is enough reason to not want to order from them, but they’ve also had a decade plus pattern of labor rights abuse and employee mistreatment including racism, transphobia, homophobia, ableism, and pregnancy discrimination.

[nobodysdaydreams]

Bods! Random question for ya:

If you had someone wanting to get into our little fandom, what fics on AO3 would you recommend to them and why? Positivity for your fellow authors is encouraged!

Fantastic question! I actually think that this entirely depends on what genre they like:

Do they prefer fluff, angst, crack, romance, friendship, what is the vibe they are going for?

Do they not have a book or show preference or do they have a strong preference?

Do they have specific characters or relationships they like to read about?

Do they want a quick one shot or a longer fic and are they okay reading a fic if the fic is in progress? This question might be more optional or mood dependent, but I thought I'd add it.

Another optional question: is there a specific type of AU they like?

Going through all the characters and possibilities might be a bit much, so I went through my bookmarks on AO3 as well as some of my mutuals works to highlight some personal favorites of mine, though that is heavily based on my preferences, so keep that in mind. If this person or indeed if anyone needs specific recommendation (e.g., "fluff featuring the four main kids book version only" or "angst involving the twins in the show" etc.) then I’d be happy to provide those, but as it is, there’s just too many wonderful author’s in the fandom and too many wonderful works to list here.

With that in mind, here is a list of some of my favorites and the genres they correspond to, while trying to provide a wide variety of authors, genres, book vs. show fics and characters. I tried to include fics I recently bookmarks so some of the newer less well-known stuff can get some attention:

nicholas and company destroy the prison industrial complex! by @mysteriouseggsbenedict: A book related crack fic about Nicholas and the mbs adults destroying the prison industrial complex. I laughed out loud while reading this, it's hilarious.

Innocent or not, you're not a bet I care to take by @sophieswundergarten: A book related angst/fluff piece about the relationships between the executives in the aftermath of canon events. It was an honor to have this gifted to me; I reread it all the time.

“There is no evil in sorcery, only in the hearts of men” by @myfairkatiecat: A show related fic that revolves around a magic AU that honest fits the show really really well and is criminally underrated. The way the element of magic is worked into the character dynamics really sells it.

here's to (never) growing up by @mollyhats: Between show and book canon (could go either way). Classic bonding and fluff with the kiddos, mostly hurt/comfort.

The Best Decision by @heyitsthatonesmolgay: the show versions of Nathaniel and Nicholas talk to their past selves. Great if you like one shots that you can read quickly, but then think about literally forever. Again, it was an honor to have this gifted to me, and I reread it all the time.

I can feel all my bones coming back and I'm craving motion by @oflightningandstars: A book fic about the Wetheralls focusing on elements of neurodivergency (which I love) that is really well written. Also includes Moocho, of course.

capture the sun by @mahpotatoequeen: A book centered fic about the life of Kate Wetherall that is really a deep dive into her character through the years. Beautifully written, a lot of hurt/comfort.

Food for Thought by @phtalogreenpoison: A book fic about Milligan and Number Two, once again focusing on hurt/comfort and disability head canons (you see now what I meant about my bookmarks reflecting my interests). Incredible read, highly recommend.

The Interview by @acollectionofcuriousreblogs: A book fic about Sticky Washington that's very good if you like angst. Super unsettling, but an amazing read.

someone only you could want by @kneeslapworthy: A show fic about SQ and Curtain's relationship healing post canon. This one is an older fic, but once again, underrated and still one of my favorites.

It's still raining by @sqenthusiast: A book fic about the executives and the shared hurt and trauma they suffer through under Curtain. Includes a lot of Jillson's POV, which is a rare one, so I really appreciated that.

Lifeline by @mvshortcut: A combination book and show fic about Constance and Nathaniel post canon. Amazing visuals, some great stuff in regards to the complexity of Nathaniel's character and brilliant utilization of Constance's psychic powers.

Fairytale by @fandom-queen-13: A book fic that is an fairytale retelling using the mbs characters (mostly the Wetheralls) that is extremely well done. I don't want to spoil anything, but if you like AUs, you should read this one.

The Alpaca by @lizardwoman-from-earths-core-2: An amazing fic that show how the show alpaca became a member of the Wetherall family.

Let all the singing follow them, and bring them comfort by @crow-in-springtime: Show Curtain takes the family to see Hades Town to make up for his many crimes. It's a fun time!

I'm sure there's a lot that I'm forgetting, again, I tried to provide a bit of a variety here, but if any of you ever have specific requests, I would be happy to dig those out for you.

And feel free to add onto this post if you want!

[silverbladexyz]

Hiii! Welcome back! This request is so cute and fluffy. I haven’t watched Naruto yet, but I did some research on Sakura’s powers and I hope I wrote it alright! Btw this is hcs

BSD Manga spoilers below!

The images used are not mine. They belong to their original owners

TW: Mentions of fighting, stabbing

Tecchou and Jouno with a Fem!reader that’s the Hunting Dogs’ doctor

Tecchou:

-I feel like Tecchou rarely gets injured on missions. Like, this guy is the strongest member of the Hunting Dogs, I don’t think a little scratch would be enough to stop him

-So let’s say that after he finished his mission, he was just about to head back to headquarters, when unfortunately a criminal snuck up on him and stabbed him in the back. Luckily, Tecchou was able to capture the criminal, but unluckily for him he now had a serious wound that needed treatment

-Tecchou was originally going to treat it himself and eat some of his food combinations, but Jouno was nagging him to go to the clinic, because the ‘blood smelled gross’. Tachihara too, but because he didn’t want Tecchou to get an infected wound and end up sick

-So he had no choice but to go to the infirmary. And that was when he met you

-You were very kind and patient while you were treating him. The wound did turn out to be infected, but you merely held your palm towards it. A green light shone, and the next moment his wound was gone

-Tecchou was kind of surprised, but you explained to him that it was your ability. He nodded, but he didn’t question the limits of your ability

-It was a few weeks later when Tecchou was sent to the infirmary again, this time even more wounded than before. Even Teruko was convinced that he might fall into a coma

-However, you had healed him up in a matter of seconds. This sparked curiosity in Tecchou, and soon he was asking you questions about your ability. Afterall, not all ability users with the power to heal could heal several deep wounds at once

-Over time, Tecchou finds himself enjoying your company a lot more. You were very easygoing and enjoyable to talk to, and you always managed to heal Tecchou up successfully

-He even offers you some of his food combinations. You don’t accept it, however, you do give him suggestions of healthier foods that had the same colour and that went great with each other. Tecchou took you up on your advice, and actually found himself enjoying the new food combinations that you gave him

-Whenever he gets injured, even if he could treat it himself, Tecchou still decides to go to you. Jouno teases him for this, but does Tecchou give a damn? Nope

-It wasn’t long before he felt... strange around you. Whenever you two interacted, he would feel nervous and his heart beat so fast that he thought there was something wrong with him

-Literally asks you for advice on what was happening. Then he learns that he has a crush on you

-Probably wouldn’t confess to you for a long time, if it weren’t for Jouno asking him to get it over and done with, since his fast heartbeat always annoyed his heterochromatic-haired coworker

-So after a few days, he finally confesses to you in the infirmary. It was after you healed him, when he actually holds your hand and looks at you in your eyes

-You thought that there was something wrong with your face, but once he confesses, you immediately accept. You had grown fond of Tecchou, and knowing that he felt the same way made you incredulously happy

-Cue Jouno taking pictures in the background for blackmail xD

Jouno:

-Jouno probably doesn’t get hurt a lot too, since his ability somehow helps his wounds close over and he’s as good as new

-But let’s say that his ability was copied for hours by a criminal ability user that he had to fight. It wasn’t easy, and by the end of it Jouno was bleeding nearly everywhere

-Because he doesn’t have his ability for a little while, he had no choice but to go to the infirmary

-Jouno was expecting to be kept there for a while, but what he didn’t expect was for you to hold your hand over his wounds and feel them close over quickly

-When the entire thing was done, Jouno was slightly surprised, but not for long. Afterall, you were a doctor for the Hunting Dogs, and that required exceptional skills

-Jouno found you nice to talk to. Sure, even though you could be too nice sometimes, you aren’t a pushover and knew when to stand your ground. Plus your medical knowledge and your ability made you an all the more formidable opponent

-He teased you a bit sometimes, but you got along well with him. Jouno always went to you whenever he got injured because he somehow liked the idea of you being the only person who was allowed to heal him

-Sometimes he would purposely make Tecchou stab him more often, only so that he could be treated by you <3

-It was quite a long time before he started to have these weird reactions whenever he saw you. Such as nervousness, a fast heartbeat, and all those tell-tale signs of him having a crush on you

-Jouno is in denial for the longest time. During this time, he might even try to distance himself from you. But give him some more time, and he’ll soon come to terms with his feelings

-When he confesses, he is quite simple. He just says ‘go out with me’ when you finish healing his wounds

-You nearly stumbled, and you thought that you heard him incorrectly. But Jouno just smiled genuinely, and repeated what he had said

-You were nearly lost for words, but you accepted eagerly, your heart beating the quickest you had ever felt it beat 

-But if only you knew how fast Jouno’s heart was beating for you <333

@ashthemadwriter​ @pixyys​ @pianotross​ @the-mourning-stars​ @i-just-like-goats​

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

Gaven smiled at the camera as he drove away knowing he just committed the perfect crime and no one would ever be able to prove he had done it. Long story short, he had been laundering money from the company he had been working at for quite some time. Enough money that he was able to afford a mansion and a handy man that did all the home repairs. Thats how he met Charles. Charles always a dumb brute of a man. Hairy and a couple inches shorter than himself. Standing at a broad 5’8” with a wide size 13. He was hairy from head to toe and spent most of his time while working shirtless. Gaven tired to carry on conversations with the man but soon found it pointless as the man could barely complete a sentence without having to wipe drool from the corner of his bearded mouth. But then the day came when the cops showed up. Charles was there working on the house like normal and Gaven needed a quick escape. He didn’t want to spend years in prison for his white collar crimes so he did what any criminal would do if they had the chance. He swapped bodies with the dumb ol brute. Now Gaven was driving away while Charles was being arrested and acting like a complete animal in handcuffs not knowing what was going on. Coming to the end of the drive way though Gaven said fuck out loud realizing not only did he take Charles’ identity. He now has his life. A much poorer life. And Charles had some wide shoes that Gaven couldn’t fill even though he was literally wearing forced to wear them now.

[mobiused]

To be honest the fact we got to the stage where we could agree that boycotting is the right thing to do kinda surprised me cuz I'm so used to people going "but what about the babygirlywirlys feelings🥺🥺 they are just simpleminded feeble little girls who dont know what a big word like BOYCOTT means and theyll think we dont wuv them and will want to kill themsleves,, so we cant do that to them🥺" Obviously the notion that these grown women would be unable to wrap their head around the concept of a boycott being for the greater good is even funnier seeing as Lawsuit Line have organised their own boycott (‼ so awesome!!) of Fab. So yeah they understand what a fucking boycott is and won't take it personally.

Like. if you have been an orbit for a long time you will remember how wuebits spoke and still speak about Choerry's boycott and how it mustve hurt her little feelings... like paying to see a child in a miniskirt moan in your ear and dance provocatively is somehow OK if you say you only paid money to the company that did this her because you........ don't want to upset her..??? (I hope you never have children if this is your mindset regarding safeguarding and welfare of kids.) So yeah I am actually impressed that Orbits have finally fucking finally changed their tune, especially in this day and age where a tweet talking about how gross it is to support children in the industry gets 20k RTs and yet somehow all you guys know the names of these freshly debuted kids and their favorite colors their token animal their mothers maiden name etc etc etc. Are you not embarrassed lol...

And I hope we shame everyone we see who fails to boycott because it *is* embarrassing and it *is* weak, and it *is* putting money in the pockets of criminals and abusers. We can't just say it's okay~ I understand~ because no actually I don't understand how you can be so lacking in self control that its actually harder for you to literally do nothing than to waste money on some junk when you can pirate it anyway. How could you be so pathetic and somehow claim to care about these girls' wellbeing? Like this about people's real lives and real human rights and we need to take it as seriously as the girls deserve.

[hoshipills]

Double-crosser- Part 4

The untold truth

" I wish we never met."

Pairing: Mafialeader!mingyu x Fem!reader

Warnings: weapons, deaths, mentions of food, let me know if more.

Genre: mafia, angst, tiny bit of fluff.

Word count: 2k

Synopsis:The sudden news of information leak of a secret mission leaves all the members of mafia perplexed. They closed their eyes and the next second, their leader was arrested. Someone betrayed and the taste of betrayal wasn't sweet.

Note: To avoid confusion, this chapter follows Y/n from the start of her mission.

Masterlist

|Previous| |Next|

Y/n stepped into her new house, her gaze all over the mess in the living room. She has to clean it all. It's been around a week since she moved in here. It was, of course, for the mission. She has to approach Mingyu, get some information from him and then get him arrested, it is as simple as it is, right?

Well,no.

The supposed important mission would be about 2 years from then. The only reason she approached him sooner is because she has to build a trust with him and get the information unobserved by him.

That means she has to be with him for 2 years. That also means she has to stay away from Yangyang for 2 years.

Don't get it wrong. She stayed away from him for many missions, but it was for just 1 or 2 months.

2 years is definitely a big deal. Especially since they both literally do everything together.

When they said she would be given such a important mission, she was so contempt, that she didn't bother to check the duration of it. Hence, she agreed. Only if she knew, she would've not.

That doesn't necessarily means she regrets taking up the mission. She is more that happy to work for company and deal with a huge criminal.

She set everything up. Ready to face the challenges and consequences in the coming future.

What suprised her was how easy it was to talk to Mingyu. The plan was all set. A guy was following her and she bumped into Mingyu. There it started and suddenly in 3 months, he asked her out.

--

Y/n settled on the chair in front of Mingyu, whose eyes followed her every step. " what would you like to order?", He asked her as soon as she got comfortable in her place. She gave him a smile. " I'll take a coffee, that's enough.", She said as she examined the café. Mingyu gave her a single nod of his head and left to the counter.

Few minutes passed and Mingyu got back with 2 coffees in his hand. " Here you go.", His voice was gentle. If Y/n wasn't already aware, she wouldn't even have guessed he was considered the biggest criminal in the country. She might have showed that suprise on her face, Mingyu knitted his eyebrows together and asked her, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

" It's hard to believe that you are a mafia leader.", She said, her face still had traces of suprise." You are just...so sweet.", She blurted out without thinking.

"Am I not allowed to be sweet with the person I like?", Mingyu chuckled.

"That's not what I mean.", She said, barely moving her lips.

--

Months with Mingyu passed quicker than expected. She managed to get informations about their small missions, which honestly weren't that useful. The important one was the big mission, which still has 4 months to happen.

She currently sat with all the members in a room, apparently it was their godown. She was meeting them for the first time. The guys went on and on about silly stories of Mingyu.

Before entering the room, she mentally noted not to enjoy the meet and remember that they are criminals. Her expression right then however, said the otherwise. She laughed along with them, finding herself enjoying the moment.

She suddenly got up, excusing herself to the washroom. The members told her the directions as she went outside, reminding herself the sole purpose of visiting there.

About a week ago, she found a file in Mingyu's room which had '118' written on it along with a key. She figuered it could be in the godown as soon she saw it from outside. The room might contain secrets about the main mission.

She held the key in her hand tighter as she roamed around, trying to find the room.

There it was.

118.

She inserted the key and turned it, hoping that it was the right fit.

It was.

She twisted the door knob and entered inside. The room was dark and dusty. She guessed it might have not been opened for a long period. She closed the door and turned her phone's flash light, only to get shocked. Her eyes ballooned as she saw a photo frame on the wall.

It was Agent Sky with a women beside him. A teenage boy infront of them, smiling as his teeth showed. It didn't take long for her to realize the kid was Mingyu. If not his face, his smile never changed.

She must be dreaming.

There is no way Agent Sky is the father of Mingyu. If it is so, How the hell Mingyu became a gang leader?

There were many unanswered questions and she needed them to be answered.

She hapazardly went through the files on the shelf, keeping in mind that she has less time. She finally got hold of a file which was named "ICS", the articles collected by Kim Jaegeun. She recollected that to be Agent Sky's real name.

Her hands stiffly opened the file, looking at the bunch of papers, listing the crimes ICS committed.

There was a text in the bold at the end reading,"The group seventeen I formed with my fellow trusted members will make sure to eliminate the crimes made by ICS." The note at the end didn't go unnoticed either "The actual proofs of the crimes are carefully hidden."

She couldn't dnt fully process the words she read but was bought to reality by the sound of her name being called. She closed the file and kept it back in place. She carefully opened the door, cautious about getting caught. She walked till the end of the way when she heard MIngyu say her name. " Y/n, Where were you? I was worried.", he said while his face contracted.

" I used the bathroom but got lost while getting back.", Y/n effortlessly lied.

Mingyu's face relaxed as he led her back to the original room.

Y/n followed him blindly,her thoughts fully occupied with what she just saw in the room.

--

Y/n laid on the bed beside him, watching him sleep peacefully with his eyes delicately closed. She couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that this man was the son of Agent Sky, a person she really admired from her childhood.

Wasn't Sky dead 17 years ago? Did he really die or that was what she and the agents were told by ICS?

Agent Sky risked his life more than thrice for the country. Why the hell would he betray ICS without a logical reason?

That should mean everything in the file was true. Then, where were the actual proofs hidden? She thought of every single place the proofs could've went. Her air analysis was interuptyed when Mingyu opened his eyes a little and said," Y/n? Why are you still awake?"

" I just finished my work.", she said.

Mingyu threw his big arm over her, pulling her closer andf letting her head rest on his chest. " You should sleep well, sweetheart.", he said while his eyes were stilled closed."I love you."

Guilt started to pool up inside her chest. She is going to betray this man in 4 months.

It ate her up inside out.

She would be lying if she said she never thought of living with his man forever. How can she not when he behaves like a absolute sweetheart? Maybe he was a damgerous criminal but when they were alone, he treated her like a queen. She used to brush off those thought by telling herself that he is not a good man. She always failed. It was clear she failed now as well when she wrapped her arms around him and closed her eyes, trying to sleep.

--

Y/n sat infront of her laptop, pretending to work when she could only think of the situation she was stuck in.

These were the times she wishes to be near Yangyang. Not that she doesnt want to be near him at other times but right then, she needed him the most. After all, He was the only person who was with her through her thick and thin, listened to all her problems without complaining.

Her first priority right then was to find the proofs Agent Sky has hidden. If she gets her hands on them, she can have some progress. It could be anywhere, but one place she really assumes is The Black room prison. Agent sky used to be one of the privileged ones to visit it. It makes sense when you know that majority of the criminals there were arrested by him. She would gain the privilege if she arrests Mingyu.

She has to arrest him and get there, search for the proofs and help him to escape. If she finds the proofs, she'll get them to Yangyang and unite the mafia and the agents who would get to know the truth about ICS. If she doesnt find the proofs, she'll just get caught by ICS for betraying them by helping Mingyu, get satisfied that she atleast tried. This was her plan summarized.

It was good to say that her plan worked.

--

Y/n exited the room and locked it. She just informed Mingyu that they will be shifted to Affliction rooms. The picture of his red eyes and toned down body remained in her brain, it pained her to see him like that.

I am doing this for him.

she said this to herself as she walked towards the security room and sat infront of the computer. The other day she searched in the building to find the proofs, laughing at how dumb ICS people were to not find these files when they were barely well hidden. But then again, no one would guess the files would be there.

Now she was ready to do the last step of the plan. She has to updated about the information about transfer of the boys to affliction rooms so that the others will see that and make a plan to save them.

she cleared most of the security anyways, it wouldn't be much time from then for the other members to break into the system.

Just then she saw a notification on a transaction of 10 billion into the official ICS account. It was the same amount Seventeen was supposeed to get if they attended the meeting of the leaked mission.

So the company got it. No wonder they wanted to wait till this mission. They wanted to loot the money pretending as the mafia at the meeting.

She frowned, feeling a little frustrated about this. She worked so hard all these years so that their company could escape cimes?

She let out a scoff. They should have atleast given a personal account for the transaction of money.

--

" She is dead."

" ICS ordered the people to kill her after putting her in affliction room for 6 months."

Yangyang put forward some files on the table. " These are the proofs your father hid. Y/n found them in the Back room prison. She left them in the usual place we meet but I refused to go there because I hated her for being selfish and leaving me alone to save you. I visited that place yesterday and found these. The first thing I did was come here."

Yangyang took a sharp breath, his eyes getting moist.

"She explained me everything in this letter.", he held up a letter. "She mentioned that she wanted me to meet you and inform the other agents about this.", he said with a shaky voice. He got up and kept the letter in MIngyu's hands." She wants us to go against ICS. Read her plan yourself."

Mingyu backed up against his seat and fell on it as he read the letter.

She sacrificerd herself for him and all he had was grudge towards her.

He felt like he did a terrible mistake even though he didn't do anything wrong.

That moment he finished reading it, he kept the piece of paper aside. His eyes red as he said his next words with a dead serene voice.

"Now, we have to do justice for her sacrifice, right?"

Taglist:@calssunflower @woo8hao

[highkeyweeb]

Here’s why I think each Buddy Daddies episode has the title it does!

Fun Fact: Did you know that the color of the title card gives you an indication who the episode will be about?

Of 13, there were 5 Kazuki episodes, 3 Rei episodes, 3 Miri episodes, and 2 neutral episodes!

Episode 1: Piece of Cake (red) ❤️

Embarrassingly self explanatory, it’s the cake that Kazuki baked that drew Miri’s attention to him when he was entering the elevator.

But I also think it’s used ironically, since the plan that Kazuki had for the assassination goes completely haywire. Especially considering it was supposed to be an easy mission.

Episode 2: The Kiss of Death (blue) 💙

The ‘kiss of death’ is a mafia term that signifies a member of a crime group or organization is soon to die. Kazuki and Rei’s job this episode was to assassinate a man who was a part of some type of gang.

This one is a ‘Rei’ episode because he’s typically the one to take out their targets and would be doing the killing, so the mark on the targets head falls on Rei to deal with.

Episode 3: The Spice of Life (red) ❤️

This one probably has to do with the fact that when Kazuki confronts Miri’s mother he tells her that children are a gift despite being a lot of work. That they make your life exciting, worthwhile, and worth living; they make it ‘spicy.’ In this episode Miri officially becomes the spice to his and Rei’s life when he definitively decided they’ll be taking her in!

Episode 4: What Will Be, Will Be (pink) 💖

The phrase itself means that you can’t stray away from your predetermined fate and that everything that’s supposed to happen will happen. With that in mind, I think it has to do with Miri making friends at daycare.

Even getting her into the daycare was a hassle, but then once she got in she was an outcast. However, when letting things take their natural course (her and her dads being themselves), she was able to get into the right daycare for her (with a loving teacher like Miss Anna) and make friends in the end.

Everything played out the way it was supposed to from the beginning, because Miri only deserves to be in a loving environment (and not at that first daycare with the grumpy old lady) surrounded be people who appreciate her and want her company.

Episode 5: Crunch Time (red) ❤️

Also fairly self explanatory, it’s crunch time for Rei and Kazuki because they’re running low on funds. On top of that Miri’s daycare is closed so they’re literally on a time crunch in order to get some of Kyu’s work done.

A more implicit meaning could be that it’s time for them to confess to Kyu that they’ve been hiding Miri, and deciding whether it’s still possible or efficient to keep her a secret any longer.

A ‘Kazuki’ episode because he’s clearly very stressed throughout the entire ordeal, but I also think it becomes clear for the first time that he’s afraid of having another family be taken from him. He’s doing his all to make their arrangement work out, even to his own detriment.

Episode 6: Love is Blind (pink) 💖

Another easy one! Miri loves everyone despite their faults, and is even seen showing kindness to someone she got into a “fight” with, as well as a literal criminal. She isn’t upset at Taiga for getting them lost, and genuinely believes she’s helping the thief by telling them they had to pay for the food.

She has a kind and loving heart no matter the person or the situation!

Episode 7: After Rain Comes Fair Weather (red) ❤️

This one is actually a Japanese proverb, but it has a pretty simple interpretation: after bad things come good things.

A Kazuki-centric episode where he reflects on his tragic past while it rains, and then the sun comes out once he’s confronted with the realization that there are good things in front of him and ahead of him.

Episode 8: Nothing Seek, Nothing Find (blue) 💙

A saying that means that you won’t get results if you don’t search for them yourself.

Rei has lived his life up until this point just going through the motions and the requirements that the organization has given him. For the first time in his life (and the show) he finally stops and thinks about his life and what he wants.

He hadn’t sought out a purpose for living before, so he never had one. But then Miri fell into his lap and as he slowly started to try for her, he found his purpose.

Episode 8.5: Cherry-Pick (white) 🤍

Included it cause why not? A cherry-picking of the most important and plot influential moments from the past 8 months.

I don’t think the color of the title card has any meaning for this episode, but I do think it has meaning for episode 12~

(To be fair I only really included it in the graphic because I initially planned for there to be 13 episodes and I didn’t want to rearrange it).

Episode 9: No Sweet Without Sweat (pink) 💖

A phrase that means achieving good things takes a lot of hard work, which is why we see Miri working hard to train for the race in the beginning of the episode.

It’s also used to motivate people to preserve, so even though Miri didn’t win the race like initially intended, she kept her head up, kept trying, and her hard work resulted in her family winning in the end.

Interesting that this phrase has such a similar meaning to episode 8’s title, showing that both Rei and Miri had episodes where they achieved some type of result after a setback (less literal for Rei, since he was being ‘set back’ to step 1 in life) further increasing the number of parallels between Miri and Rei that we see throughout the show!

Episode 10: Lost at Sea (red) ❤️

A bit of a confusing one to decipher initially. I’m inclined to say they were “lost” about what to do with Miri but they come to their decision pretty quickly as most of the episode is about their day out with her.

Instead, it seems more like this episode is named this way because even though the choice in their heads about what is best for Miri is clear, their hearts are confused, and they feel lost about who they even are without her in their life as shown in the very beginning of the next episode.

A ‘Kazuki’ episode because it’s obvious that he was the one overly invested in their little family from the very beginning. He’s also the one who makes the decision to let her live with her mother.

Episode 11: Everyone Will be Hypocrites (blue) 💙

The episode where every character in the show exhibits hypocritical tendencies: Misaki for saying she will do better for Miri and take care of her from then on, and then dying.

Kazuki for believing that they could change and be a family together, and then saying that they had to send Miri away because that was what was best for her.

Kyu for calling Misaki to take Miri away because he believed that would be the only way to keep her safe, then noting that she was safest with Kazuki and Rei because they knew the threat of the organization and could actually protect her.

However, despite everyone contributing to the title in some way, this is a ‘Rei’ episode because the organization is the sole reason for all of this episodes developments. He’s faced with the reality that returning isn’t good enough, and learns about the lengths the Boss will go to.

Episode 12: Daughter Daddies (white) 🤍

There’s a line in episode 11 where Kazuki and Rei say “it won’t be fake this time” because they’re not going to be taking care of Miri out of obligation from killing her parents and having no where else to take her they’re going to be doing it because they love her and want to be a family with her, that’s why it’s going to be ‘real.’

That’s the point of this episode and this episodes title, everything they do from here on out they do for Miri. Since they left the organization, being ‘buddies’ isn’t the gimmick anymore, it’s just two daddies raising a daughter together.

Plus, the color white often symbolizes completion, so there’s no better color for the final title card of the show.