#how can you possibly believe youre the minority when all these laws are being PASSED???????

[emofrog69]

seeing my dad and he just regurgitates all anti trans talking points like i cant do this lol

[aronarchy]

You and alot of the youth libration posters on here: "adults need to listen children and teens and take them seriously"

Me who is trying to understand better: "I agree with that"

The overmajority of the children and teens I take to on platforms other then here: "We don't like media and stories that sexualize us in anyway"

You and alot of the youth libration posters on here for some reason: "That's bad and here's why you should ignore them"

I'm legit confused bruv

(I’ll assume you’re talking about fiction not depicting specific real-life minors here, because that is usually the topic of discussion.)

Your experiences have been very, very different from mine, then.

I’ve had a few IRL friends whom I had discussed or mentioned the topic to or vice versa when I was a child/young teenager; they were generally supportive and didn’t take issue. I met far fewer children and teens IRL who were opposed to it. (I actually can’t remember any specific incident of someone being opposed to it around me. Although that’s probably because it wasn’t really a topic of discussion much. But yeah.)

I am a minor, and I have met many, many minors online who are proship. It’s actively difficult to be a proship minor, even more difficult it is to be a proship or antiship adult, or an antiship minor, because of how we’re commonly erased, how both antis and adult(ist) proshippers like to assume we just don’t (and can’t) exist, and we are rarely listened to.

Meanwhile, the vast majority of fantis I’ve met have been adults. It’s also adults who have driven public discourse for moralizing dark fiction, and adults who lobby for and pass laws censoring art.

I knew a (fanti-adjacent) adult who sexually harassed and abused multiple minors, building his brand on being a “predator-hunter,” protecting minors. He severely stalked and harassed many people, adults and minors, perceived as sexually deviant or problematic, for long periods of time. When my friend, a minor, went public about their abuse from him, they were branded a liar by his friends and supporters, all or almost all of whom are fantis. Many were minors themselves. There were more minors supporting him than supporting my friend, because he had more supporters in general. Should I have agreed with them, because they were minors? Erased the victims?

My friend has experienced sexual harassment from a minor for being interested in “problematic” art depicting fictional CSA. That same person also harassed me, including with bigotry and suicide-baiting, for my related stances and my sexuality, and sexually objectified me (in a mostly unrelated context). Would you support him because “we need to listen to and agree with minors more”?

There have been innumerable cases of adult fantis online being caught grooming, sexually harassing, or abusing minors, including minor fantis, and running exploitative, cult-like communities. Even one (at least one, whom I remember) who raped someone IRL. It’s become almost an expected occurrence that adult fantis go around sharing the “problematic” art they call “CSEM” and make others, including survivors with PTSD who are distressed by it, and even minors, to look at porn they otherwise would not have seen. And trivializing CSEM, calling depictions of fictional characters “CSEM,” and, like what I once saw done to a friend who is a rape and CSEM survivor, being dismissive of them when they are, naturally, offended and triggered by claims that fictional material could be possibly equivalent to actual recordings of rape or abuse.

(Yes, many proshippers are CSA survivors; you can read some testimonials from them here.)

Many, maybe even most minors support the “stranger danger” myth and other adultist, authoritarian beliefs to some degree. Believing that sexual “deviants” or “degenerates” are the cause of CSA and that purging them in a fascist manner is the solution. They would likely invalidate my claims of having been abused, because most people are conditioned to downplay child abuse, even as children themselves. This dynamic is replicated with any other marginalized group. Fully liberationist beliefs are rare in general. That doesn’t mean they’re wrong, or not what we all need, ultimately. (That does not also mean it would automatically be paternalistic to disagree with someone else on what would constitute liberation or whether liberation is good.)

Many minors, like people living under a CSA culture in general, believe in victim-blaming myths like “children and teenagers wearing ‘over-sexualized’ clothing ‘tempts’ adults into sexually assaulting them; we need to promote [modesty standards for clothing] to prevent CSA.” Many people, even survivors, claim that abusers abuse because “they can’t help it,” because they lack emotional self-regulation, because they are mentally ill… or because they looked at some fiction or art depicting abuse in a not-entirely-condemnatory light, and suddenly pro-abuse beliefs magically entered their head entirely against their will, or they got “hooked” on it and developed a “porn addiction” or uncontrollable sex drive until they couldn’t help but “escalate” by attacking real-life minors, as if abusers only abused because of fiction and not from any volition of their own. As if that excuses it, or can adequately explain it away. As if that’s not an excuse SA’ers have been using for a long, long time.

Many of those minor fantis would likely defend my CSA to me, or at least try to paternalistically overwrite my own perceptions, memories, interpretations, and understandings of my experiences, because they don’t fit their preconceived narrative.

These are deeply destructive myths, harmful to minors and survivors, but they are still extremely prevalent.

Does that make them okay?

The vast supermajority of minor fantis I have encountered or observed (and a far greater proportion than among proshippers) are adultist, often violently so, and defend the nuclear family and mock me for advocating abolition, and connect their fanti stance with their adultist stances in logic and framework. They would dismiss me on the basis of my age. They think purging fiction is a sufficient solution to abuse and take issue with my efforts at more concrete activism against abuse culture within communities and political causes of abuse. They think adults should use parental controls and censor minors’ media and coerce us to not view content perceived as problematic or corrupting even if the minor does not agree to that. They either pretend minors with kinks or other “deviant” sexual interests don’t exist, or demonize us and sneer at minors’ experiences of distress and trauma from societal kinkmisia. They would help adult fantis harass proship minors and minors who view dark fiction/create “problematic” art. They play into culturally adultist notions of “childhood innocence,” adult control over youth sexuality, denial of agency, and paternalistic condescension, but also turn to aggression and overt hostility when a minor doesn’t buy into it. See, for example:

I grew up in a conservative, abusive, sexually repressive, censoring environment. Then when I first went online I encountered a ton of the same negativity. I felt a lot of shame and internalized stigma and constant self-doubt because I was worried I was somehow being immoral for enjoying dark fiction and accidentally harming myself in the long run or indirectly wronging people I care about. That was deeply detrimental to my mental health for a long time. I felt a lot of clarity and felt much safer, more validated, more comfortable existing as myself, and less self-hating when I encountered other people who did have similar views which were supportive and who were interested in pursuing the real causes of child abuse (which I didn’t really know a lot about until I started unraveling all the propaganda I had absorbed which scapegoated unrelated things, and has been immensely helpful to my understanding of my conditions and beginning my ability to advocate for myself and others), and things finally made a lot more sense (fanti views were contradictory, confusing, and I knew even when I had a lot of internalized problems that they were very wrong on some level). I also unlearned a lot of adultism in the meantime. I’m not sure where this recent trend of “antishipping is youthlib” is coming from. I’ve always only ever seen fantis promoting adultism along with their ideology, and that it’s been implicitly understood everywhere that if you support antishipping you support adultism too because they’re part and parcel.

I do believe in a standpoint epistemology, where one predicts that a marginalized group is on average much more likely to have correct opinions about issues pertaining to their oppression and blind spots generated among oppressor classes through that oppression, because of the disproportionate pressures and incentives they experience to understand more, or else they suffer more. However, this does not make me a relativist; it does not mean that I repeat “listen to and uncritically agree with whatever marginalized group X says about Y, because reality is subjective and if someone believes it they automatically can be right.” I still believe that there is objective truth, and while I try to find wherever possible where they may be blind spots in my perspective, my goal, ultimately, is still to rely on methods of evidence and logical inference. I don’t go about this in a way anywhere near how the average normie does, and they wouldn’t like my methods either. But still—I recognize, yes, that marginalized people are not monoliths, and we are not going to all agree on everything; at some point, even the privileged will have to look on and deliberate and choose what they think is true. And, sometimes, there’s a reason why one perspective is more rare on the surface (suppressed? claimed to be impossible? threatened?) than another.

Fanti communities are abusive. Fantis are abusive. I still have a lot of trauma from how individuals and groups have treated me, especially online. It was cruel. It was fucking unfair. I don’t think ritual harassment, bigotry, trying to cut someone off from resources, abuse apologia, and enforcement of authoritarian norms are somehow youth liberationist. I don’t think silencing minors or making them afraid to exist in spaces because of harmless beliefs or fictional interests is youth liberation.

This is also how many conservatives have treated fictional depictions of violence. (I can attest to that from personal experience too; that was also incredibly traumatic.) Do we have to censor GTA before we advocate against murder and torture and assault?

It feels very distressing being told that I can’t possibly support views that are important to me and my freedom of expression and in helping resolve the trauma and violence many people I care about experienced without somehow secretly or inadvertently undermining myself and other causes I care about. This paradigm keeps people trapped in toxic communities, feeling like they are being forced to choose either one or the other, which makes it easy for abusers on both sides to exploit us and then moralize against us. It’s suffocating and cruel.

I don’t just disagree with minor fantis when I encounter them. I feel triggered, afraid, threatened/in danger. I remember a whole slew of awful past incidents, and a long time feeling a lot of confusion, feeling gaslit, feeling like my whole self and existence are wrong. I anticipate hostility and possible violence toward me and people I care about. I feel angry, because I remember what people like them did to people I care about (and to me), and tried to do. I feel even more angry that people will run apologia for them and try to gaslight the rest of us into thinking there’s no problem, everything’s fine, shut up and get in line or else you’re next.

Recently, fantis effectively killed a proship CSA survivor for drawing cope art on a private account after a years-long harassment campaign. Do you think your friends would defend this? Do you think they would agree, that this is protecting children?

But this is only my perspective. I know that fantis will always have the moral and discursive advantage over me and that it would be much easier for someone to accuse me of being adultist/corrupting through this, or tokenizing myself/having internalized adultism/being predatory/a dozen other things I’ve been accused of other the years to discredit and invalidate my words which I do, in fact, sometimes worry over, as I argue with myself in my head, as I internalize gaslighting and doubt myself and wonder if I really am wrong and should just abandon trying to carve out a space for myself, to exist as myself and with dignity. It would be easier to be mad at me and think I have insidious or misguided motives or am trying to guilt-trip.

I wouldn’t even really blame you. It’s always been easier for me to blame myself.

(Except then I look around and see all the people, minors, CSA survivors, extremely traumatized and fucked-up people who’ve been badly hurt who feel doubt too who really need this activism and it doesn’t seem so hard then, does it? Cruelty is cruelty. Abuse is abuse. Trauma is trauma. Bigots can fuck right off.)

[silverloreley]

What are your headcanons about Claudine Frollo?

Since I started with the HoND characters, I expected this question. Yet, it took me a while to write a decent answer, if the one you're about to read qualifies as one.

Point is... I don't know what to make of her. We know she's the child of one of the worst villains in Disney history and there's a lot to unpack about such a person having a child, a daughter nevertheless. We're talking about a man who had no qualms about burning homes with people inside to reach his twisted goals, and the power to get out of it clean. A man who thinks of himself as above everyone else and self-justifies all his wrongdoings by thinking himself holy. A man who has a whole song about lusting after a 16 years-old girl (although we can argue Esmeralda is older in the movie, it's not any better). And that's not talking about his view of the world and the tie with religion (and I was raised Catholic so believe me when I say Disney toned down/avoided adding lots of things that would have made him even worse).

But also, how do you raise a child Catholic in a place where a literal Greek god lives? What do you tell her? We know he must have some great manipulation techniques, but assuming that 1) Claudine has a mother (and possibly an uncle) and 2) she's able-bodied and without big physical issues, Frollo couldn't have kept her inside like he did with Quasimodo and we know Quasi, as soon as he had the chance to get out and meet more people, changed his view of the world pretty quickly.

Also, children start to question their parents' words and beliefs around 12-13 years old, on average. Assuming Claudine isn't stupid (and I don't think she is) and she had the chance to look around herself, her trust in her father's infallibility should be shaky at best. I'm pretty sure she'd become an atheist - because if your father tells you there's only one infallible God that allows bad things to happen even to innocents like babies but you live with all kinds of supernatural creatures including a so-called Greek god, you end up thinking there is no such thing as gods or anything as absolute as a "true" God, just a ton of overpowered beings.

So, Claudine. We know she attends Dragon Hall and rings the bell that signals the start of the day. It means she's not confined in her home/room/tower or whatever. We also know she joined the Anti-heroes club, meaning she was recruited, convinced, and ended up acting as a messenger for them. This alone means Frollo's control over her is loose at best.

Now, I spoke about Jehan Frollo in another post and, perhaps, his influence on Claudine's growth shows in some ways. I bet, since he used to be a university student, he had some interesting ideas about law and free will and other things his brother wouldn't approve of, but he ended up passing those very ideas to Claudine. The seed of rebellion was planted by her uncle, the only other person who was allowed to have influence over her, and her biggest protector against her father's worst tendencies.

Other than that, the fact she can go out and mingle with other teens, she attends school, she can go out and do things more or less normal, it doesn't really speak of a secluded child, so I think either her mother is a rather strong-willed woman who only humors Frollo but ultimately lets her daughter do whatever; OR Frollo himself realized that to better control his daughter he had to let the chain looser, perhaps under Jehan's suggestion; OR he actually cares for his flesh and blood, again, the way he behaved with Jehan says he ends up justifying and covering up for his relatives' shortcomings, so Claudine could fall under the category of "my blood never sins, only makes minor mistakes that money and influence can fix".

The second explanation is more interesting, to me. Frollo is cunning and ended up learning from his mistakes in raising Quasimodo, which means he decided to try a different approach to raising his daughter. I think the Barrier mellowed him (remember my theory on why the Villains are almost OOC? that goes for him too) in the sense he's less harsh and his obsessive nature toned down to a caricatural Catholic man who spouts Bible verses in any occasion, is scandalized by the perdition of everyone around him but actually does nothing about it and he's more of a glutton than anyone around (he does have a creperie, no?) In fact, his lust was turned into gluttony the same way Jafar's pride and ambition became mere greed over common objects and the cheap money of the Isle.

He still administered a slap or two to his rebellious child when she sins (or he thinks she did) and he did try to raise her as the perfect Catholic, but, in my head, he's the kind of parent who, in public, is always on their children's side. In private, it's another thing and he does punish Claudine, sometimes very harshly (but never in ways that could be noticed at a glance, think of stuff like making her wear a cilice, or whip the soles of her feet, or slap her hands, or even making her kneel on chickpeas for a few hours, you know, the traditional Catholic punishments for misbehaving kids) but nothing she can't walk away from in a few hours.

(it helps that her mother is a former prostitute that Frollo "redeemed", actually a rather cunning woman who realized she could use his lust to her advantage, get married and make him provide for her in both resources and protection. She also made sure Claudine never had to live her same life and the very first time Claude so much looked at their daughter the wrong way she threatened to cut off his dick).

Claudine knows appearances are everything to her father and she has to dress in a modest yet elegant way, her clothes must stay clean, her hair tied in a certain way, and her grades can't slip. Therefore, she's terrified of getting dirt or ruining her clothes, let alone getting bad grades, and, of course, she had to memorize entire sections of the Bible in both Latin and in the common tongue (that's so she can help convert her fellow kids).

She can have friends of lower stature, it's charitable for her to, but can't allow them to overpower or influence her out of the Frollo family ways. If anything, she's supposed to rule over them. She hates the idea of that, she'd much rather have genuine friends than minions.

Uhh, I can't think of anything else, right now, and the answer is long overdue, so I'll just reblog it again if something else comes to mind.

[mickgaydolenz]

asia, i know you're the micky girl around here. hopefully you can help me gain some information. and maybe other micky girls too.

i was studying today and read up on 4th house Saturn, which is what his Saturn (and also davy's too) placement is in. a 4th house Saturn denotes many obvious things i can already sense from him like an attachment to the past and being a nostalgic person, having a past-oriented way of thinking. no duh -- gramps loves talking about the past and is still living in his monkee world.

but something that i'm not familiar with is his family life and his upbringing, which i know a little about, probably with how private he likes to be, so not enough to find a connection. his 4th house Saturn denotes problems with his own parents and overall family in childhood, possibly having a cold and distant, or even overbearing, parental figure.

i tried looking into any notable aspects and the only ones i could find that could emphasize it is his Moon opposing his Saturn. but overall he has much more good aspects than bad when it comes to Saturn.

is there any information in your brain bank that could possibly be connected to that sliver of information?

oh my god actually i do!! in micky’s biography he explains that he used to be really close to his dad, but by the time he started working on circus boy they drifted apart. it seems like they never really became close again, and he alludes to the fact that he did have some conflict with his dad as a kid (mostly in the sense that his mom and dad varied on their opinions of discipline with his father believing in corporal punishment). when his dad died micky even says he was more devastated that his mom was so upset than actually being completely broken up by his father’s passing. i’m not sure if this would fit overbearing, but janelle was pretty much with micky 24/7 when he was doing circus boy (the law required a parent be there at all times since micky was a minor), and it seems like she held a lot of sway in life even as he got older. also, he does explain that when he started doing the monkees it put a strain on his relationship with his sisters, essentially pushing them apart for years (i think he only ever really reconnected with coco but remained distant from his two other sisters). i hope that could provide you with some information kale!!!!

[industry212]

How to Prepare for a Criminal Trial

If you're a defendant, witness, or any other party engaged in an impending criminal trial, the entire procedure may appear unfamiliar and daunting. This feeling is undoubtedly more intense for the defendant. 

Being charged with a crime can make you feel like you've ventured into unexplored terrain, all while understanding the significant implications it holds. The mix of uncertainty and the realization of how a criminal conviction could alter your life can be paralyzing. In this context, we will explore some aspects of preparing for a criminal trial.

Obtain Legal Counsel

The outcome of criminal trials hinges on the evidence presented during court proceedings. A verdict, whether acquittal or conviction, is only passed once the judge and jury have reviewed all the evidence and reached a satisfactory conclusion. It's crucial for the defendant to grasp the legal process, and this understanding is most effectively gained through the counsel of a seasoned attorney.

Laws can vary significantly between states. However, with top-notch criminal defense lawyers in Sacramento at your side, you'll understand the specifics of your case and how your state’s court protocols operate. Reaching out to a criminal law firm in  Sacramento will clarify your optimal legal path. They'll also help you avoid expensive blunders that could detrimentally affect your case.

Pay Attention to the Question Before Responding in Court

Avoid responding to a different query. If the question is ambiguous with two possible interpretations, request the attorney to clarify or reword it. Most individuals encounter minor difficulties when testifying for the first time, so don't speculate if you're uncertain about the response. Keep in mind, your responses are being audibly recorded. Non-verbal cues like shaking or nodding your head won't be captured by the audio recording device. 

Ensure all your responses are articulated verbally. Don't attempt to outwit the attorney posing the questions; they are more experienced in this field than you. Remember that even if you believe your answer may negatively impact your case, a judge may view your honesty as a sign of your overall credibility. This could potentially benefit you in the long term.

Avoid Case Discussions on Social Media

In our current era of digitization, any content you share on social media platforms could potentially be utilized as evidence against you in a court of law. Legal representatives often investigate these platforms for any incriminating posts, images, or remarks. 

It's advisable to steer clear of posting anything related to your case or any relevant topics on social media. Similarly, only discuss your case with your legal counsel, as any other conversations could be legally demanded or employed against you during the proceedings.

Discussions held on social media can serve as court evidence. It's always a good idea to abstain from using social media and avoid discussing the case with anyone other than your legal representative. This ensures that any shared information remains private and inaccessible to the prosecuting party.

Construct a Powerful Story 

Building a potent narrative is a vital component in readying for a trial. The essence of the client's case comes down to the tale spun by the lawyer, irrespective of evidence, expert statements, or other elements involved in a case. 

If the story is realistic, trustworthy, and unforgettable, there's a high chance it will gain the favor of the judge and jury. Conversely, if a lawyer is unable to articulate the case effectively, it's unlikely that the judge or jury will place much trust in the evidence put forth.

Endnote

Adhering to these pivotal guidelines enables you to contribute effectively to the construction of a robust defense for your criminal case. This not only enhances the probability of securing a positive outcome but eases your journey through the legal system, alleviating stress and worry. Remember the cornerstone of victory in any criminal case is the presence of a competent attorney on your team and the ability to make well-informed choices at every step. ​

[tipco613]

New Post has been published on http://cryptonewsuniverse.com/restoring-humanity-from-mass-psychosis-to-mass-awakening/

Restoring Humanity - From Mass Psychosis to Mass Awakening

Restoring Humanity – From Mass Psychosis to Mass Awakening

The global events of the last three years have presented extreme economic, health, and freedom challenges while raising questions about the emerging dystopian nightmare. 

Why is it that a minority of people can see through the crumbling official narrative imposed on the people while, by contrast, many seem so blissfully asleep in continuing to accept and defend a narrative that does not add up?

In order to answer this, it may be helpful to look at the relationship between perception and mind control and how this contributes to mass psychosis, which refers to a collective lack of insight where current reality is concerned. Even more important than insight is how to break the spell of harmful and destructive conditioning.

I start with a personal example. I was walking through our local hospital many years ago wearing a white jacket and skirt cotton suit. As I walked through the local hospital, it seemed that everybody I passed nodded at me respectfully; initially, I couldn't figure out why. After all, I didn't know them.

It took a minute to dawn on me that my presence was being acknowledged this way because most doctors wear white uniforms. They thought I was a doctor and, therefore, worthy of such respectful acknowledgment due to my perceived status and authority. 

In another incident in 2020, an elderly gentleman in town gave me expletives due to my opposing views over a specific health matter. He abruptly stopped when I told him I was a former nurse, and his demeanor changed entirely to a more passive and accepting stance. Again, in his eyes, I represented authority.

Image source: Bgfons.com

MASS PSYCHOSIS

In the above examples, the keyword was authority, demonstrating the behavioral trend to accept what those in charge say without question. In an ideal world, that should not cause an issue, and there is merit in taking advice from those in authority who have the relevant expertise and a desire to help those they serve genuinely.

However, if you primarily serve your ego, then authority and status can lead to misuse and abuse of power if left unchecked. Money and status are aphrodisiacs to these types of individuals. With this in mind, Thomas Jefferson warned Americans about the need to be vigilant.

‘Freedom is not free; the price you must pay for freedom is eternal vigilance.’

So why do individuals accept authority blindly when a destructive use of power is in play? The clues lie in mind control.

MIND CONTROL

Mind control is the ability to influence the mind towards a specific objective. It can be positive when focussing on how to achieve a dream goal, for example. This is a constructive use of the mind, which impacts emotions and behavior too. When used for harmful or nefarious purposes, this becomes destructive. 

Most, if not all of us, have been born into a time when such corruption is well established. This means that these practices have an air of normality about it. Normal becomes so through a process of conditioning over time. If you look at it from the angle of the law of cause and effect, these nefarious outcomes are the effects of things being created to cause them to happen.

So if the effect is that you wish people en masse to believe a lie, then certain ingredients would need to combine to cause that to happen. For example, combine authority with media, education, and health control, and you can control the message that will be delivered consistently to the people. 

After a certain time, that message will get accepted to the point where it will remain unchallenged without question, even when it makes no sense. Mass conditioning becomes possible when you expose the public to specific information with frequency and intensity through commonly held technology devices such as the television.

George Orwell once said, “Who controls the past controls the future.”

Ask yourself the following question. Who controls the media, who owns education, and who owns the pharmaceutical industries? See if you can name them without research. 

If you struggled with the answer, that is great feedback because it lets you know what you do and don’t know. It's on the basis of such ignorance that many make uninformed comments and decisions about things like health, education, and money.

To help advance your knowledge in this area, the documentary below called  "MONOPOLY" is well worth watching as it shows you how to find the answer rather than just telling you who controls the world. It’s about one hour long and addresses the issue of who owns what when it comes to the primary industries in the world. It also develops your research ability in the process.

This pattern of control highlighted in the documentary is the creation of those with high status, money, presumed authority, and disdain for humanity. Once you determine who controls what, you can examine their connections regarding who they associate and with whom they merge their objectives. You can then more accurately predict the narrative that will come through the media channels. 

So in the case of the Monopoly documentary, all roads lead to Blackrock and even more so to one in particular – Vanguard. The agenda with Blackrock and Vanguard has been addressed in previous articles from the team. 

Since they have a monopoly on every major industry, it stands to reason that it is not in their interest to allow an even playing field for all. They do not believe in meritocracy. Hence they will use everything in their arsenal to remove the competition. 

Does the trail stop with Vanguard, or is there another type of hierarchy with controlling influence? 

Well, depending on how far you want to take your research, there is consistent commentary from various ex-government officials turned whistleblowers to suggest there are individuals in the shadows hiding behind these corporations pulling the strings.

Some talk in terms of thirteen ruling families. Others talk of the Club of Rome or The Committee of 300. The theme of Masonic Orders and The Illuminati are other names. They are collectively referred to as The Cabal or Deep State.

Where this trail ends is hard to say, but a common theme is this hatred for humanity, reflected in destructive rituals and behaviors. This theme of unjust enrichment for the few by those in authority and enslavement of the masses is an enduring theme, irrespective of the exploration angle.

So how does that corporate control relate to you? It goes beyond you buying their stuff. Let’s loop back on the subject of mind control and see if we can get nearer to the roots of this.

MK Ultra

MK Ultra was a collaboration between the government and approximately 80 institutions in the 1950s, a central point of which was the Tavistock Institute. Certain people were selected to be experimented on regarding mind and behavior control. It was brought into being off the back of the war as a strategic initiative for defense purposes. For more background, look up Project Blue Beam, Operation Paperclip, and P20 CointelPro.

Image Source: All That’s Interesting

Director Sidney Gottlieb, an integral figure in that program, joined the CIA in the early 1950s. He was an expert in poisons and devised many projects to remove the enemy.  This program became controversial because such experiments were used more widely to experiment on the public without their knowledge. The nature of the experiments was barbaric in that they were designed to break the human will and spirit. 

The mind would become fragmented as the conditioning process of subliminal messages, drugs, alcohol, mental disruption, fear, blackmail, hypnosis, and sensory deprivation kicked in to induce specific behavior. The subject would automatically and unconsciously respond to a pre-programmed objective once triggered by a stimulus or command at the required time.

MK Ultra is deemed to be behind certain assassinations where the assassin has no knowledge of performing the act. It protects the real killer, and hence these subjects become proxy killing machines, weaponized to do the bidding of those that control them.

Once this program became known in the public domain in the early 1970s, the program was supposed to be terminated. However, it got morphed into Project Monarch, and many believe the project continues in some way, with the use of subtle tactics.

Strategies and Tactics

To bring it forward to the present day, the use of artificial intelligence for population surveillance and the internet of things is deemed to be the medium through which the public is being spied on. Here are a few tactics employed in the process.

Plausible Deniability

Plausible deniability is about insulating yourself from blame based on the fact that someone else performed the misdeed without your knowledge, coupled with the fact that there is no clear trail of evidence that links you directly with the act in question.

The following testimony from a whistleblower from a private security firm in Seattle demonstrates this and how far these global powers are willing to go to control the masses for their own agenda. What he shows undoubtedly aligns with the attempted removal of law enforcement and the introduction of robots. 

It enters the realms of direct energy weapons, which lays the groundwork for plausible deniability because, in this scenario, you can harm someone without touching them and distance yourself through a lack of evidence. 

As much as what he shares is not for the faint of heart, it does prove that these things did not happen overnight, and the view that the so-called virus was created for a global reset rather than the other way around is gaining momentum by the day.

Distraction

Consider this from Aldous Huxley back in the 1930s:

“As for the manual workers, they will be discouraged from serious thought: They will be made as comfortable as possible…; As soon as working hours are over, amusements will be provided, of a sort calculated to cause wholesome mirth and to prevent any thoughts of discontent which otherwise might cloud their happiness.” 

Distraction is a tactic that keeps a person from realizing what is actually happening. A typical vehicle for this is the television.

Entertainment

Look up the film ‘White Noise’ and compare it to what happened in Ohio recently with the train incident. Many reported that the so-called virus reminded them of the film ‘Contagion.’ Most recently, there was talk of another virus called the Marburg virus. 

Coincidentally Stanley Johnson, the father of former UK Prime Minister Boris Johnson, released a fiction book in 2020 called ‘The Virus,’ featuring the Marburg Virus. It was previously published in 1982 as The Marburg Virus. 

A variation of these fiction movies and books is the simulated tabletop exercises facilitated by Bill Gates back in 2019 and written into the WHO papers. (World Health Organization)

Are these fictionalized movies, books, and simulations a tactic to get the mind to associate these things with fiction prematurely or to confuse the mind about what is real and fiction?

Could it be that when the real event happens, it has already been seeded in the collective mind? And any attempts to suggest this is premeditated get seen in a fictitious light as disinformation?  

Or are we being told the agenda ahead of time, albeit presented as mere fiction, so we won’t take it seriously until it catches up with us in an unguarded moment? You decide.

The Trojan Horse 

If you look up what a trojan virus is, it is a play of the trojan horse theme. In this scenario, some sort of malware disguises itself as legitimate code. Once it enters your computer, it wreaks havoc in a destructive manner.

Apply this to 9/11, where there was a supposed foreign terrorist attack. Through the back door came The Patriot Act, allowing for citizen surveillance.

In the case of the so-called virus Co-vid 19 [look up its patent]. The virus supposedly allowed the public to be inoculated through experimental jabs, which has given way to track and trace technology for our protection.

It was, in fact, the other way around. The problem was created in the form of a virus with a 99.9% recovery rate, yet, by sleight of hand, by solely focussing on cases, it was presented as a killer pandemic, suggesting a significant percentage of the population would be wiped out. 

This, in turn, would provide a context and compelling case for mass injections and then, then morph into an emergency climate agenda based on reducing carbon emissions. 

Now the proposal of a digitized CBDC becomes a controlling pinnacle mechanism for approved social behaviors in the form of social credits within smart cities. Spot the trojan horse. Welcome to the new world order.

Image Source: Stop World Control

In their new online playground, the lines between reality and virtual reality get consumed in the metaverse, ‘et voila’ we have the internet of things, where you now become a thing that can be switched on or off at the press of a button – the ultimate control.

A way to further verify these events is to look at where big money has been directed. For example, look up the list of US patents, and you will find related patents going back many years ago that laid the ground for what we are now seeing.

Duplicity

This is where you appear to be on one side while really serving the other. An example of this is when the government sugarcoats its lies with the truth to bait the people or keep them hooked.

Deception – The Overarching Theme

Deception is a theme that runs through all the tactics mentioned above, and the most dangerous kind is the duplicitous narrative that has a bit of truth sprinkled in to keep the masses onside and to mute any objections. 

Robin de Ruiter sums it up in his book The Satanic Bloodlines,

“There is only one truth which has been purposely covered up and re-branded to ensure that those who dare to seek and question are unsuspectingly led into a dangerous cocktail of truth mixed with error.”

This can pave the way for things such as battered wife syndrome and Stockholm Syndrome. The latter is a term often used in psychiatry, where the subject perceives her abuser as more of a friend than a foe to the point where the abused will defend the abuser in the face of threat. 

This is an example of codependency, where the abuser controls a vulnerable subject and where she is dependent on the abuser in some way for her survival.

In the book Fruits From A Poisonous Tree, Mel Stamper describes the other common form of deception, which is the use of language to deceive. 

Nowhere is this more prominent than in the laws that were changed over time to create things like the birth certificate fraud and the debt economy fraud. This was done to enslave the masses and make it so difficult for them to recover, let alone have the strength to make those responsible accountable for their fraudulent and criminal actions.

If you accept that the very things that would bring charges of fraud and crime against us are things that the government seems to be immune to, then at some level, you have to accept that we are being ruled through organized crime by the very people we pay to serve us.

When errors are not corrected, this leads to incompetence. When incompetence is repeatedly ignored, this leads to corruption. That makes them criminals and fraudsters acting as a government.

The above construction of a mass psychosis through mind control and fear would suggest that certain globalists have succeeded in their orchestrated plan to numb, dumb, and stupefy the public into going along with their behavior. Authority has combined with force in the present day to keep it this way. Yet all is not as it seems, and truth has a way of coming to the fore in time.

MASS AWAKENING

This begs the question of how it is possible to go from mass psychosis, where there is no insight into current reality, to a mass awakening, where there is clarity of insight.

Thomas Jefferson reminded us of the important quality of vigilance; “Freedom is not free; the price you must pay for freedom is eternal vigilance.”

Vigilance is a form of being alert to guard against deception and lies, but it needs to feed off the clarity of insight. Here are three tips for facilitating awakening and anchoring it in vigilance.

1. Perhaps a starting point is to recognize what does not work so well, which has been attempted by many who have tried to wake people up. Many have tried to use reasoning in conversation, which has led to much angst and frustration. The key learning point here is that the act of reasoning with a conditioned mind is nigh impossible.

When faced with something new, the mind will tend to roam its inner filing cabinet, and if it cannot find a supporting experience in its memory bank, it will likely dismiss your reasoning. This is a description of conflict often referred to as cognitive dissonance.

Reasoning only works where there is an open mind and heart. An awakening usually bypasses the intellect and happens through the heart. So the first step is to open the heart and desire to seek truth in all things.

If you are a person that is trying to help someone wake up, the best way to help them open their heart is to simply show them what a better world looks like in thought, word, and deed through things like empathy, compassion, and presence.

This becomes like a contrasting mirror to the type of world that ruling authorities are ushering us into. This also provides a safety net in which the person you are helping can genuinely open up over time without fear and entertain something different from what they have held onto for so long.

2. Recognize the opportunity in adversity. There is something about the nature of adversity that causes individuals to evaluate life with greater depth compared to when things are going well. 

There is an opportunity to change the trajectory of life as more awaken to what is going on. That makes this a perfect storm if that opportunity is taken. Consider the example of Transcendental Meditation and the research conducted over four years, demonstrating its powerful ability to reduce crime and increase peace. 

Image source: Meditation Lifestyle

This is an example of the opportunity to create a powerful impact in a positive way and bring restoration to the masses. Prayer is another form that can do likewise when we focus attention on the desired outcome with faith and expectation.

3. In keeping with the theme that showing is more powerful than telling, documentaries such as Monopoly, when done with an educational stance, are powerful to help move a person away from unbridled trust to reconstructing the basics of better research and verification of truth.

Do not be surprised if fear and apathy arise in the process of strengthening your mind. The dross of fear and apathy will surface as you break away from deeply engrained habits and learn to let go of those elements which have created the illusion of safety.

Fear can arise from the act of challenging authority, and apathy can be a buffer against disappointment. Apathy can show up as ‘what difference can I make?’ However, it also blocks the flow of life and is a lie against your true nature. 

Simply move through it with a loving acceptance of yourself and a reminder of the loving soul that you are as you continue with the trajectory change and keep your eye on the prize. Keep exposing yourself to the mind-training tools, spiritual insights, and processes that will help you become strong and resilient where fear and apathy are concerned.

  SUMMARY

From the example of mind control, we have seen how reality is changed from a place of perception first. Many make the mistake of trying to change the outer reality without the inner journey.

However, to constructively change reality as an individual or group, you must go beyond mind control to expand your inner resources and God-given potential to contain and cultivate new possibilities.

Many of the conditioning tools that lock you into a fearful agenda can also set you free when used responsibly, such as hypnosis, whole-brain synchronization, and heart-brain coherence.

Furthermore, when you surround yourself with like-minded people supporting your progress, you can anchor your own process in eternal vigilance. This way, we can create communities whose connection is based on genuine and authentic care for each other. We can usher in a golden age where natural law principles and parity of equality under the law are restored.

The light emitted from a heart of love for the well-being of our fellow man and woman can dispel any darkness. It can show us the way and help us remember who we truly are and what we can achieve together in bringing about restoration so that we can go beyond survival to become part of a thriving planet.  

Let’s change the trajectory of our future now. Make a decision to give your attention to the sort of world you wish to see rather than dwell constantly on what is playing out, and get creative in harnessing your inner resources to make it a current reality. The future depends on what we create now.

      About: Anita Narayan. (United Kingdom) My life's work is about helping individuals to greater freedom through joy and purpose without self-sabotage, so that inspirational legacy can serve generations to come. Find me at my Markethive Profile Page | My Twitter Account | and my LinkedIn Profile.

[theliterateape]

The Overdue but Perfect Response to the Outrage of the Minority

by Don Hall

It doesn’t seem to take much to uphold Charlie Cox’s good-guy reputation, and when Digital Spy asked Cox what he made of people getting upset over the “walk of shame” that Daredevil did the morning after having a really great night with She-Hulk, he said, very kindly, “If She-Hulk’s not your thing, then don’t watch it. Watch something else.”

SOURCE

James Gunn has issued a statement addressing fan concerns over the direction of the DC Universe after the announcement of Henry Cavill’s exit as Superman and the harassment he and co-head Peter Safran have received online.

“One of the things Peter & I were aware of when we took the job as heads of DC Studios was a certain minority of people online that could be, well, uproarious & unkind, to say the least. Our choices for the DCU are based upon what we believe is best for the story & best for the DC characters who have been around for nearly 85 years. Perhaps these choices are great, perhaps not, but they are made with sincere hearts & integrity & always with the story in mind,” Gunn explained.

“No one loves to be harassed or called names — but, to be frank, we’ve been through significantly worse. Disrespectful outcry will never, ever affect our actions."

SOURCE

The term minority tends to mean in the minds of most people non-white people. That's reasonable given how the word is used but it's also a misdirect. Minority is simply that part of any group that is a smaller section of the whole than the majority. Globally, we're all the minority in comparison to the Chinese population. Men, when it comes to college admissions, are in the minority in comparison to women. Both the extreme Left and Right politically are in the minority in comparison to Exhausted Center.

Based strictly on numbers, those who hate the MCU are in the minority as are those who use Twitter and have their toilet paper pull from under the roll. Bidet users? Minority. Vegans? Minority. People who bought one of those Trump NFTs? Stupid minority. And, you know, there's no "I" in stupid.

As much as the debacle of Kevin McCarthy struggling to become Speaker of the House was a pleasure to view, he was up against the outrage of the minority within his party.

From Yahoo News:

"With a narrowly divided chamber, 222-to-212, the new speaker has shown the far-right wing of his caucus that they can get their way through obstruction — a recipe for nonstop hostage-taking by small factions going forward.

The problem for Congress, however, is that McCarthy will probably have to continue prostrating himself in order to keep his new job. Why? Because in the process of winning their votes, he awarded his captors nearly every demand on their wishlist — empowering them to continue to obstruct business whenever it suits their purposes."

The conundrum lies in the fact that we love it when our minority voices obstruct their majority but can't seem to be able to stand it when their minority is afforded the same. We talk a lot about gridlock and a dysfunctional Congress but we have to grasp that the gridlock part of the equation is the very intent of the Constitutional framers. Laws that are easy to pass cannot possibly be pragmatic or enforceable to an entire country comprised of individuals maintaining their often false belief in their own autonomy. It's supposed to be contentious.

It is not supposed to be dysfunctional. Allowing the minority to make unreasoning demands and granting them time and time again creates dysfunction and really bad governance (regardless of which ideological yard you play in). Accepting petty, shallow, outraged behavior and capitulating to it encourages more of it resulting in an era where screaming and throwing a tantrum on a plane can result in the plane being rerouted and punishing the entire flight. Pretending that civil disobedience is simply destroying the counter of a Burger King because you did not, in fact, get to have it your way emboldens the childish tendency in all of us.

The balance lies in being able to distinguish the difference between a genuine issue and a tantrum. Here's a clue: if the minority is screaming and crying, claiming obvious distortions of harm and violence where there are none, destroying things to get attention, and behaving like an angry child? Tantrum.

When you reward the tantrums, you are guaranteed to be subjected to more tantrums. If you reasonably say "Disrespectful outcry will never, ever affect our actions," you set the stage for grownup discourse. Kevin McCarthy will wish he had not conceded to the tantrums of the minority in days to come.

[kyungwonrp]

+ ... // STUDENT PROFILE ... LOADING

YOON HAEWON, also known as HAE, is 21 YEARS OLD and currently enrolled in kyungwon university. she is in her 3RD YEAR of the UNDERGRADUATE PROGRAM, majoring in BUSINESS MANAGEMENT with a minor in PUBLIC RELATIONS. she is notably part of the DANCE CLUB and the SWIMMING CLUB. you may find her in the NORTH WING (ROOM #4).

                         + ... // LOAD STUDENT BACKGROUND . . .

▸ one.

be perfect from the first breath, know only bright smiles and rosy cheeks. be the golden child and fulfil the dreams of your parents.

Radiance danced around limbs of a new-born, the aura attracting visitors by the plenty, to welcome and pinch at rose-tinted cheeks. A vision of perfection, in the form of an angelic baby girl, to become another piece added to the Yoon collection ; to aid in the legacy of the perfect family tree. From day one, obsidian strands were groomed to perfection, blush-toned fabric immaculate on a petite frame. Expectations of a baby already soaring towards the stars ; don't cry, don't kick up a fuss, it's not the way things work. Trained akin to military.

Perhaps being the only daughter, and child, came with additional pressures. The gaze of outsiders valued from parents, discipline failing to be foreign as to shape a young girl. Beyond expectations of development, to be the first to walk and talk, portrayal also mattered. To match to the societal expectations of perfection, drilled in since comprehension. Constant comparison against daughters of matching age, born to families with contrasting priorities.

With years progressing, leniency never made its appearance from parents that barely fulfilled their roles. An impressionable, young, girl taught with strictness and void of love. Saving grace found in the woman who raised her father, how he was grew to have his personality beyond comprehension, the sole person that gave the young girl affection.

▸ two.

work until your fingers bleed. the headaches will go away with caffeine and aspirin. you can not let them down.

Playtime swapped out for textbooks, onyx ink felt more familiar than bright hues of playgrounds, comprehending words beyond peers of matching age. Always top of the class, papers absent of corrections, grades failed to fall beneath the highest. With each passing year, standards upheld, despite pressure building ; and the silent wonder of how long could she could keep it up.

Midnight skies, the darkness interrupted by grey clouds, and the rumble of an upcoming storm. The first occurrence of eruption witnessed, beating the storm to its scream. Two parents deciding that resolution was found through raised voices, rocking the house with their rage, forcing the girl to hide her head under padded fabric. An evening that could never be forgotten, the first of to be many. Contrasting views on the upbringing, focal point of the dispute, career path in question. Options remained being following the steps of a man who cared only for business, manage companies and improve profit margins, or upholding a respected role in medicine or law.

Blame fell upon Haewon, self-inflicted, believing that a slip-up in English was reasoning behind her parents dispute. Ignition for working harder than previous, disregarding the question of possibility. Studying and extra-curricular was all that became known, tireless fingers upon keyboards and gripped at plastic pens, producing work comparable to a machine. When the headaches began, sleep deprivation controlling a mind, relief was found in caffeine and aspirin. Caring for herself was secondary to work.

Fighting for tranquillity in a family home, to subdue to disputes that would overwhelm evenings, as if capable of creating resolution. Dreaming of a future where papers, marked with grades, hung with pride on a fridge door. a fantasy that was clung to, despite how impossible it seemed.

▸ three.

you can not continue like this. the weight of the world is upon your shoulders and you are finally crumbling.

trigger warnings:

sickness and death mentions.

mental breakdown and mental hospitalisation mentions.

Sickness entered the family, comparable to a dark cloud looming over their household, twisting normality into something unrecognisable. Heartache became familiarity, witnessing her grandmother grow to be frail, the flicker that once burned reaching the end of its wick. Caring for her blended into work life, expectations of perfection still held from her parents, until it changed to visiting her. Haewon's own parents failed to care for the elder, side-lined to work commitments, fuelling the desire for a daughter to be there. Even if nobody else cared, Haewon would. Perched at the side of a hospital bed, holding on to the optimistic view that it would all get better and her grandmother would recover, because how was she to continue on without the one person who cared?

Except, she didn't. Holding her hand, as it grew cold, the hardest goodbye that she ever had to say.

Life had to carry on. Entering the final year of education, Haewon carried the knowledge that she had to do well, the immense pressure building. Grief tugging harder at the cracks spreading over a surface, struggling to keep up the façade. Worn thin, one last triggering breaking point. Droplets comparable to rivers, waterfalls crashing against porcelain, erupting mid-exam. One question. All it took was an answer escaping a mind for one question ; clouded by fear, doubt, and the intoxicating stress that had been pounding for years. Escaping without being excused and a failing by default, the prompt for full scale breakdown.

Solution presented in the form of a mental institution, offering embarrassment to her parents. To admit offspring was not perfect would bring shame, decision to hide was made void of hesitation. Concealed with lies, mentions of opportunities that only their daughter could be offered, ignoring the whispers that spread like wildfire.

Minutes, hours, days. A year dedicated to the box room, absent of personal possessions, repairing the crushed mind. Shattered into tiny pieces to create a shell of a human, recreated piece by piece with superglue and therapy. Numbness was all Haewon came to know. Obsidian strands, once expertly groomed, neglected. Attire traded for garments provided by the institute. This was no longer Haewon, and she grew to enjoy it for a while. Tranquillity found in the void.

▸ four.

keep going. never stop with the big dreams, the fantasies. be eloquent, and share your heart, unlike those you knew ; who never did.

Departure granted, following assessment, deemed well enough to return to civilisation. Home returned to and old habits crept back into daily existence. Catching up was inevitable, clawing back to original form, despite having already disappointed parents. Impossible to regain.

Medication aided in transition, numbness disconnected a mind from reality, and all that was known was to work. College application processes and future to consider, the trap of following in parents shoes unavoidable ; entering the industry that they had chosen for her.

Departing from family home was to focus on development, upon acceptance into Kyungwon University, eyes have never looked back. Ties severed to parents, avoidant on interactions, only exchanging updates on progress or to be informed that the credit card bill had been paid off. Haewon continues to fulfil parents expectations, the monetary gain softening the otherwise painful realisation that her life belongs to them, true passions taking the side-line until confidence overpowers the need to make them proud.

[99liners]

liberosis — myg;

liberosis; the desire to care less about things.

pairings: lawyer!min yoongi x trophy wife!reader

extra characters: kim taehyung and tanaz (enouement), kim seokjin and inaya (aphotic), jeon jeongguk and azumi (kaiho), park jimin and rei (nodus tollens), jung hoseok (psychomachy) (avengers, assemble!)

genre: angst, smut, contractual marriage!au, age-gap!au (10 years)

words: 31.390

warnings: tsundere!min yoongi, toxic relationship, talks of corruption, morally corrupt!min yoongi, morally corrupt!bts, minor/unnamed character deaths, yoongi is a chain-smoker (most lawyers smoke, believe me on this one), cold and distant behaviour, scenes with alcohol consumption, face-sitting, pussy-eating, consensual and unprotected sex, doggy-style, orgasms (f / m), mental abuse, mental breakdown / meltdown, hurtful words, mentally abusive, explicit display of controlling behaviour, extreme paranoia, irrationality, yoongi exhibits signs of pyromania (he sets ‘some’ things on fire), mentions of cheating, exhibitionism.

part of: tatemae; 建前 — a bts series.

a/n: let me warn you all, well in advance, that the legal depictions portrayed in this piece of work, specifically about ‘spousal privilege’ is not how the actual rule of law works and is a bit different (also can differ based on personal laws around the world). i took the liberty to alter some details to suit this piece of work better, so please take note of them with a grain of salt. your understanding is appreciated!

August 2020:

you turned off the water tap after using the facilities. at the very least, hospital restrooms are squeaky clean and hygienic. funny how a clean washroom is the highlight of your week.

the past week has been a ride to hell and back. watching your father fight death, suffering to take even the next breath, all because your family cannot afford the best cancer treatment. chemotherapy can drastically increase his survival rate, but it costs a fortune in addition to his daily treatment requirements.

your mother had passed away when you were around two years old, and since then, it has always been your father and you. 

your father, a low-grade government employee, did not earn much. it was enough to get by, a low-key life with the proper necessities. you never had a want in life, but adversely, there were no funds in any bank for emergencies like hospital bills. your father retired around three years ago, his pension being 75% of his salary, causing a stretch in daily life. you have had part-time jobs since you were fifteen (15), but wages from part-time jobs hardly account for pocket money; it cannot possibly run a household.

you shook off the water droplets lacing your hands before standing in front of the hand dryer. there were some sounds of footsteps outside, almost like someone was pacing the length of the restroom entrance while talking on the phone.

you were too busy drying your hands when the dryer sensor went off for a few seconds.

“jeon, i need you here. there is a body, and i need it taken care of... what do you mean you are busy? i am fucking busy too... taehyung, that idiot called me instead of you... yeah? well, i don’t fucking care whether you two get along or not. i came thinking it’s an emergency because mighty kim seokjin told me. then i discovered that it’s beyond my concern,” the male, who now stood right outside the blurry glass panel of the restroom door, took a drag of his cigarette before continuing, “no, no, it’s not about hoseok. it’s seokjin’s business. some poor chap got stuck in the crosshairs.”

you heard the part of the conversation clear as day before the dryer started again. hearing the dryer's sound, the voice outside the door ceased at once. the realization did not take long to hit that you just listened to a conversation that you were clearly not supposed to. you tried to stop the dryer, but it was sensor-enabled and had a time lag before turning on and off. you tore your hands away from where they were lying under the machine, but by the time it stopped whirring, the restroom door opened with one smooth push of a hand.

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” the male groaned before putting out the cigarette in his hands and flicking it towards the trash can.

you stared in absolute shock at the male; he was dressed in a suit, made of lush expensive fabric, polished shoes. his tie was tucked inside the sweater he was adorning over his shirt and underneath his suit blazer. initially, you thought it would be a gangster, but the look of the sophisticated person standing in front of you caused you to do a double-take. 

“what did you hear?” he took steps towards you, the automated restroom door closing behind him.

“what..?” your eyebrows scrunched together at the sudden interrogative tone.

“are you deaf? i asked, what did you hear?”

“nothing,” you replied sternly this time, holding your head high as you tried to walk away, but the male barred your pathway.

he looked at you, creating the illusion of towering over you although he is of average height and not that taller compared to you. he had a sombre look; the man meant business only.

“don’t make me repeat myself. i am not having the best day.”

“of course, guess hiding dead bodies is not your forte,” you blurted out unintentionally. your passive aggression is going to sign your death warrant someday soon.

an unmistakable smirk appeared on the male’s face, his eyes never breaking contact with yours, maintaining the upper hand, “so you did hear it.”

“well, you were not exactly being subtle,” you sighed and replied honestly, now that the cat is out of the bag.

“oh yeah? my bad, my first slip up and at what cost. humour me, what all did you hear?”

“listen, i don’t care who you are, who you work for or with, i won’t tell anyone anything. i promise,” you spoke softly, just wanting to leave, but he kept glaring at you till you finally gave up, “i heard you telling someone to take care of a body. i heard four names. i don’t know any of them, i promise.”

“you heard the names too?” he asked, almost in disbelief because that is circumstantial evidence. you nodded at the rhetoric inquiry causing the male to massage his temple with his forefinger and thumb, “what do i do with you now?” he mumbled to himself.

“don’t kill me please, i need to take care of my dad,” you spoke out, impatient to get back to your father.

“oh, little one. how do i believe that? you could rat me out anytime.”

“no, i won’t! i don’t even know your name! see, there’s the loophole.”

a dark chuckle left his thinly shaped lips, “do you take me for an idiot? i know a self-righteous person when i see one,” a reminder tone played on his phone, causing him to check it.

“i am serious, mister. this is none of my business. i heard things i shouldn’t have, and i am more than happy to forget about the whole incident.”

min yoongi, obviously, did not trust a word that left your mouth but decided to indulge you as he was running late for a hearing. this way, he can also understand your intentions better, “i don’t believe that, but for the time being, i am going to let it go and forget this ever happened.”

you nodded at that and meant to walk away, but the man caught you by your elbow. the grip was firm, forceful even.

“don’t think i will hesitate even for a second before ruining your life if you choose to open your trap anywhere.”

you wrested out of his grip, “i am not an idiot either. you won’t see me again,” you replied briskly before exiting the restroom. letting a sigh of relief on escaping the situation, you walked back to your father’s room.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

it did not take more than three days for the universe to make you eat your words as you found yourself walking towards the police station.

‘he is going to kill me, surely,’ you sighed, your hands clutching on the straps of the crossbody bag hanging from your shoulder. you stopped in your tracks around 200 metres away from the precinct entrance and turned back.

‘i need to be alive for dad,’ you thought as you started walking in the opposite direction. 

‘but i should report it. they got someone killed,’ you groaned, stopping in your tracks. turning back, your eyes traced the precinct building while in the other direction, at a considerable distance, was the hospital where you came from.

confronted by your thoughts, you sat down on the pavement, covering your face. the dilemma was giving you a headache. you need to stay alive to help your father heal, but you cannot just not report a serious crime like murder. 

it was sunny out, the rays of sunlight almost burning off the top part of your head, but you kept sitting with your face bowed down, trying to decide what to do.

“ma’am, are you alright?” a voice caused you to break out from your train of thoughts and look up.

“i am alright,” you croaked out after clearing the lump in your throat.

“you look out of sorts. is everything alright? i am a cop,” he showed you his badge, which read ‘detective jung minjun, violent crimes squad,’ “maybe i can get you a cab home.”

your eyes almost lit up at the sight of his badge.

‘is this a sign from the universe?’

you kept staring at him for a while before finally speaking up, “actually, i want to report a crime, but i am afraid i will risk my safety.”

“ma’am, we can help you with that. why don’t you come with me to the precinct and talk to my senior?” he urged you.

you were already leaning more on the ‘should report it’ side, and now coupled with his reassurance, you stood up to your feet.

i mean, what is the worst that could happen?

“alright. but i am still not sure.”

“i can understand,” minjun offered you an understanding smile before walking towards the precinct with you on his toes.

“sir?” minjun spoke up once inside the precinct, standing in front of the largest desk. the man sitting on the other end of the desk looked up from his desktop screen and urged minjun to go on.

you watched quietly from behind minjun’s figure, almost like you had taken shelter behind him.

“ma’am here wants to report a crime,” minjun moved aside and left, so now you were left face-to-face with the senior detective. 

‘senior detective jeon jeongguk’ read the name plaque kept on top of his desk.

“yes, miss, go ahead,” jeon jeongguk stood up and walked to you, pulling out a chair for you, “you look anxious. here, have some water,” he moved a glass of water towards you.

you sat down, your body almost reclusing into yourself in the presence of the detective. compared to minjun, jeongguk had a heavier presence. his war-core attire screamed superiority in power. he was trying his best to be gentle, but there was a certain crassness in his tone. guess that comes from dealing with notorious criminals all day. you extended your shaky hand to take the glass of water he was holding out for you.

“it’s alright, don’t be afraid. we are all here to protect you,” jeongguk smiled before walking back to his chair and taking a seat, “now, tell me what happened?”

“i am not sure if i want to make an official statement,” you mentioned after taking a sip of the water.

“sure. whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

you nodded and narrated the whole incident to him down to the T, not leaving a detail out.

“four names you said, a john, taehyung, kim seokjin and hoseok, right?”

“yeah! you got them right.”

“do you want to make an official statement and report the crime?”

“i wasn’t so sure about it, but now that i am here, might as well go ahead with it.” you sighed.

jeongguk nodded and turned to minjun, who took the cue and recorded your statement. jeongguk stood up from his seat, grabbed his phone and mumbled a soft ‘excuse me’ before walking out of the precinct.

“your witness is here,” jeongguk spoke through the receiver of his phone.

yoongi, on the other side of the call, sighed, “i knew it. did you take her statement?”

“had to. i am not the sole person who works here, everyone in the squad heard what she had to say, and she wanted to report the crime, so yeah, she is getting her statement recorded right now.”

“fuck. i swear i can’t go one day without seokjin’s stupid issues blowing up in my ass. hold her there, i am on my way.”

“cool. it’s almost lunchtime, so i will make sure it’s just her, and i left in the precinct.”

“got it.”

jeongguk completed his call before walking back in.

“can i leave now?” you asked as the detective made his way back to his desk where you were sitting.

“did they record your statement?”

“yeah, sir. they did,” you smiled, preparing to stand up.

“can you hold on for a while? i have some additional documents i need you to sign.”

“oh? alright,” you let your weight rest back on your seated legs.

“yeah, yoon-” jeongguk turned around and faked being surprised with the realisation that everyone had left for lunch, “i am afraid you will have to wait, ma’am. form 15-B is maintained by yoona, and everyone is gone for lunch.”

you nodded, thinking nothing much of it and took out your phone to pass the time.

jeongguk offered you a small smile before going back to the case file he was registering onto the system after giving yoongi the affirmation that you two were left alone now.

it took ten minutes for yoongi to arrive from his office to the precinct. he sauntered in, as soft as a cat, not letting you any time to suspect that someone was standing right behind you.

you did notice something was amiss when you could smell a familiar cologne. you turned back in a flash only to discover that your hunch was correct. the cologne belonged to that very man, and now he was standing right behind you.

“you are a sanctimonious little prick, aren’t you?” yoongi smiled as he noted the look of dismay on your face.

you turned to jeongguk, “sir, this is the guy! he was the one talking about the dead body.”

jeongguk leaned back into his chair, “i know, miss. i know.”

“you... know?” your eyebrows scrunched together in disbelief. reports of police corruption are rampant worldwide, but it is indisputable that we trust the cops to protect us at the end of the day. when it happens to you, it feels surreal. you felt so helpless because you had nowhere else to turn to. also, you do not know what will happen to you now.

“so it wasn’t john but a jeon?” you asked after putting the pieces together.

jeongguk laughed, “well, they both have the same pronunciation, but yes, i spell it as j-e-o-n.”

you went to reply, but yoongi’s voice brought your attention back to him.

“you are big on words, little one. i must say, you even promised me by yourself that you would forget about everything.”

“i tried, okay! i tried, but you assholes killed a person.”

yoongi let a chuckle before getting a hold of your elbow, “get up.”

“wher-where are we going?” you kept looking between jeongguk and the male, scared for your dear life.

“to have the talk, little one. since you have chosen this path, let me show you your options now. it’s only fair,” he tugged on your hand again.

you stood up and followed him out to his car. it was a black rolls royce wraith. the male opened the right side back door and pushed you in like neither you nor the car meant anything. he got in after you, shortly.

you regained your balance and sat properly on the seat, “why are you doing this?”

“are you serious? i should be the one asking you that!” he reached inside his blazer pocket and brought out a sealed packet of imported Marlboro Vintage.

you scoffed, “well, it’s too late. i already made an official statement.”

“yes, that you did,” the male held the butt of the cigarette between his lips before lighting it up, “but you have to appear in court and testify in front of a judge.”

“and i will if that is not evident enough by now.”

the male scoffed this time, dragging in a long puff before breathing it out, “i was hoping you would say that. unfortunately, i, for a fact, know that you would not be able to make it to court. i am given to believe that your father is in critical condition, and chemotherapy can greatly help his treatment for renal cancer.”

“how do you know that?”

“i know everything about you, y/l/n y/n. everything. i have your school records in my office. top As but never joined college cause of high fees.”

“none of that has anything to do with you or this situation,” you looked around, trying to locate the car door. drawing in another breath was becoming impossible.

“just ask, and you shall receive,” the male shook his head before cracking the window open, letting the smoke move out as fresh air poured in, “my name is min yoongi. remember that cause you will be hearing soon from my assistant about the cheque. so, why don’t you be a good daughter and take care of your dad? go ahead and get a new kidney even!” he leaned in, a sick grin playing on his lips. the stench of cigarettes wafting through your nostrils as you only leaned back.

yoongi advanced a hand, causing you to clutch your hands tightly near your chest, but he unlocked your side of the door to push it open, “get lost. you will get your money soon. keep your trap shut.”

you peeked your eyes open, and after noticing that he opened the door, you got to your feet and left as fast as your wobbly feet could take you.

one month later. September 2020:

you came back from work and took off your jacket while listening to pending voicemails. most of them were just from your friends, but the last one was from the hospital. your father’s primary doctor had left a voicemail stating that they have found a kidney transplant match for your father. you played the voicemail over and over again, happy that your father can get better now. for the past month, you have held on to yoongi’s cheque, unsure if you should accept it, but what could possibly come before your father’s health? you walked to your room and pulled out the slightly tattered cheque from under the mattress. you looked at it with the same expression of disbelief as you have over the past four weeks. how can someone just hand over five hundred million korean won ($500,000) just like that? keeping it back in the safe place, you took a quick shower before heading over to the hospital to be with your father. he would probably rip out the kidney with his own two hands if he ever comes to know where the money came from, but you will just think of a lie when the time comes.

come next morning, you headed back to your place from the hospital to freshen up and head to work when a sealed official mail lying in front of your door caught your eye. the symbol of justice was unmistakable as you leaned down to pick it up. it was a court summons, and just like that, it was almost as if the earth stopped spinning, your surroundings blurred out as you read the letter. you are expected to appear in court next week thursday to testify. all five of your senses felt numb and hot at the same time as you made a run for your room to retrieve the cheque. you changed quickly, and instead of clocking in for work, you headed over to min specter firm. over the past month, you have gathered some intel on him. from the internet, you gathered that yoongi is a bigshot criminal lawyer who runs one of the most successful law firms in the country. he has completed his education from the top universities worldwide and charged a fortune for a single appearance in court. 

however, there was not much information available about any other aspects of his life.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

fifteen minutes later, you were standing in front of the trust tower in seocho-gu. the board on the front side of the building read “min specter legal firm” in bold.

you struggled to take another step forward because refusing his money is not the problem. the issue is what he will do with you next. he is not the type to just let you walk free after you inform him that you intend to testify in court, after all.

“hey, y/n. eonnie, is that you?” a familiar voice broke you from your trance.

you turned to your left when you recognized the owner of the voice. your favourite junior-classman from high school; rei.

“yeah, it’s me. rei, oh my god, i am seeing you after graduation?”

“yes!” rei smiled before leaning in to hug you.

you stood there for mere seconds, your hands lying limp by your side before you eventually hugged her back. you closed your eyes after resting your chin on her shoulder, feeling less stressed as your tensed form relaxed under her reassuring taps on your back.

“what are you doing here?” rei asked upon pulling back from the hug.

“uh, i am here to meet min yoongi.”

“you are? is everything alright? are you in trouble?” she inquired as you both headed inside the building.

“h-how do you know?” you turned to her, visibly shocked.

“well, you don’t meet up with min sir, if you don’t have a business to discuss.”

“oh yeah, that. right. what about you?”

“oh, i work here.”

you both walked to the elevator as rei clicked on the floor button.

“you are an advocate?”

“yes, ma’am. i just graduated a few months ago, so i am fairly a newbie.”

you nodded, “can you show me which way his office is?”

“of course,” rei smiled at you, but it turned to a frown when you kept staring ahead, pointlessly, at the closed elevator doors.

rei extended her hand and kept it on your closed fist, giving it a squeeze, “don’t be nervous. i know sir does not take on a lot of cases, but even if he refuses you, i am here for you. let me know if i can help you.”

you looked at her with a smile on your face this time as the doors opened, “i will keep that in mind.”

rei flashed you a smile before showing you off to yoongi’s chamber. you bid goodbye to her before giving your name to yoongi’s assistant sat outside in the lobby.

you were called to his chamber within five minutes. timidly, you walked through the large oak double doors after knocking.

“what is it?” yoongi leaned back in his chair, his eyes trained lazily at you.

“i can’t do it,” you brought out the cheque from your trackpants pocket and kept it on the edge of his enormous oak table.

“what, do you want more money? is that it?” yoongi asked, crumpling up the cheque and tossing it in the bin.

you shook your head, “i can’t take a penny from you. it’s blood money.”

“your dad is literally on the verge of death. are you sure that argument matters?”

“i don’t know what matters or doesn’t. i will admit, i was blinded by the money, by the thought of seeing my father healthy again, but i got the court summons today, and it did help me snap out of that superficial happiness. my dad raised me better.”

“yes, and this is how you are repaying him by choosing death for him. literally.”

“exactly. this is how i am repaying him, to this extent.”

yoongi shook his head, “i have a murder trial hearing in two hours. my junior is supposed to come to brief me in maybe another twenty minutes or so. give me one reason why i shouldn’t just get rid of you and be done with this whole business once and for all.”

“i am trying, but i just can’t take that money. you can’t stop me from showing up at court next week.”

“are you sure? i can make a phone call, and you will end up the same way as the guy over whom you are holding this candle of morality.”

“please, don’t kill me. much like everybody else, i do not want to die.”

“i have no intention of having you killed, or i would have made that phone call quite some time ago. getting someone killed is easier said than done, little one. it will only cause me more issues. on the other hand, making your life difficult can be easily arranged.”

“then, i guess we have reached an impasse.”

“not yet.” yoongi tapped a button on the telephone, “jungha, can you summon that rei kid for me? thanks.”

“why are you calling rei?” worry graced your features.

“oh, you know rei?”

“yeah, she was my junior in school.”

“wow, this is only getting better and better.” an evil smile appeared on his face, “so listen carefully, when she comes here, i am going to make an offer with her as a witness. and if you refute it, i will fire her, and i will make your life hell, including your dying dad’s.”

before you could reject or agree with the notion, there was a knock at the door as rei walked in.

“oh, i am sorry, sir. i was unaware that you were with a client. i can come back later?”

yoongi shook his hand and pointed to the empty chair beside you, “she is no client. she is my fiancée.”

rei’s head turned to you in a flash. you are sure she must have gotten whiplash from it.

“you guys are engaged?” her eyes fleeted between her boss and you, in quite the frenzied manner.

you kept quiet, unsure where yoongi was taking this. was he trying to test you in some way?

“yeah. i asked you here for another issue, however. can you tell me what is the validity of testimony in criminal cases if spousal privilege is invoked?”

“oh, it would be inadmissible because the other spouse can just refuse to disclose any conversation as part of the confidential marital communications.”

“right,” yoongi turned to you, the same evil smile on his face, “are you free this monday, miss park?”

so this is where marriage comes up. he would be basically buying off your witness testimony.

rei nodded, “yes, sir, i am.”

“good. can you come over to the registrars' office on monday morning? y/n would need a witness for the marriage, but her dad is sick and cannot attend.”

“me?” rei turned to you again.

you finally looked at her. either you agree with yoongi, or you would be dragging rei along with your father in this mess. you have known rei from middle school through high school. while you had lost your mother at a young age, rei had lost both her parents. when you passed high school while rei still had a year left, she cried her heart out on the graduation day because you were one of the only few people who ever cared for her. you have always empathized with her, and dragging her down with you seemed downright cruel.

“yes, rei. i would like that,” you faked a smile.

“i would be honoured to, eonnie.” rei stated before leaving you alone with yoongi again.

“so, you can use your head after all,” yoongi commented after the doors closed behind rei.

“i don’t see the point of making her suffer.”

“aw, i almost forgot about your self-righteous meter. it has far surpassed the skies. anyways, i will see you on monday. if you have any boyfriend or whatever, hope three days are enough to break up and wrap up any other business.”

“please, think about it again. can’t we take another option? you don’t even know me! nor do i, you.”

“don’t care. i don’t date, i don’t have time for any of this bullshit, and i already did give you other options. this is the last bit of rope i am willing to throw you at having a life and watching your loved ones living their lives happily,” yoongi stood up, his fair veiny hands buttoning his blazer buttons, “see yourself out. i have to do the briefing for a case. see you later, little one,” yoongi pat the top of your head in the most patronizing manner before walking out, leaving you alone in his office, all alone with nothing but your conflicting thoughts.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

“isn’t this your senior prom dress?” rei asked as she tried to do an up-do on your hair. you already told her that it is alright, but she insisted you look the best on your special day. it made you almost snort in derision, your best day.

sure.

“yeah.”

“thought you wanted to wear your mother’s dress at your wedding.”

you almost stopped breathing on hearing that. yes, that is what you had always dreamt of doing, of walking down the aisle in your mom’s beautiful wedding dress. you still keep her picture adorning the beautiful dress over your dresser. she looked so graceful, a genuine smile on her face. that is what you had always visualized your special day to be and not this, definitely not this. with a stranger, in the registrar’s office, without the presence of your father, all because you refuse to cower down to the way of this unfair world.

“yeah, uh, it got torn during a move and is non-restorable,” you lied straight through your teeth.

“really? that’s too bad. okay, here, look,” she turned the front camera on her phone before handing it to you, “hope you like it.”

you took the phone and stared at your face on the screen. It was just a reminder of what reality has turned into and what you are about to walk into. handing back the phone to her, you faked a smile, “i love it.”

rei just stared at you, seeing right through your fake smile, “why don’t i believe that?”

“no, seriously. you have done a good job, love!”

“no, i mean. can i ask you something?” she continued after you gave her a nod, “are you really sure about sir? i don’t mean to sound too rude, but you two look like you have never even been in each other’s presence before.”

“i guess that’s just how we are,” you shrugged and watched yoongi walk towards you both. he was dressed in one of his usual suits.

“we are next,” he announced with his arrival and turned to rei, “did you get the next date for that theft case?”

“yes, i did,” the pair continued talking about the details of some case when rei stopped and turned to you, “sir, it’s your wedding day. let’s not talk about work.”

“yeah. that. right. totally slipped my mind,” yoongi mumbled, “thanks for, uh, taking care of,” his eyes turned to your face as he tried to remember your name, “my, um, bride.”

you stared at him in sheer disbelief and with disdain. did he just stutter while remembering your name? so now he cannot even remember your name?

after yoongi’s witness, kim seokjin and his wife inaya came over, the group of you headed inside the registrar’s office.

yoongi was the first to sign the documents before turning the marriage register and prenuptial document towards you.

your gaze was strictly trained at him, your hands shaking as they got the hold of the pen from his hand. your eyes still pleading him to not take such a drastic step. you knew he was not going to budge, yet you tried that one last time before finally signing both the documents, sealing your fate with his.

the registrar attested the document, and after all the formalities were over, the group headed outside.

“you know, we met because of you,” yoongi started in a sarcastic tone, addressing seokjin.

“ah, yoongi-ah, you don’t have to thank me,” seokjin laughed, knowing very well what yoongi was hinting at, but he could not miss the opportunity to tease the younger man.

“no, hyung, i am so grateful to you,” yoongi gritted further. his tone was in complete contrast with his jovial expressions, “i can never thank you enough.”

seokjin tried to stop his laughter but failed tragically, “cheer up yoongi. you were the only bachelor in our group, and i was sad to see you so lonely.”

“oh! you were concerned about me???” yoongi’s voice almost went up an octave in absolute exaggeration.

“of course! we all were!” seokjin turned to you, “we are kind of a big group, y/n. would you like to have us over some time so we can all get to know you better? i only want to see yoongi happy. you know, put a smile on that stoic face.”

you were caught off-guard when seokjin addressed you. after rei left, you were stood quietly beside yoongi while the two men talked. you did not fail to note the sarcastic tone of your newly-wed husband while he spoke about you. well, the feeling is mutual. you are not ecstatic about him, either.

you almost wanted to curse seokjin out. yoongi is correct, this whole thing is happening because of him, but inaya was there, who clearly looked like she was unaware of the situation, so you chose not to lash out publicly, “of course, mr kim. that would be lovely.”

“it would be so nice to spend time with you, and rei too, she was nice,” inaya spoke up, smiling at you.

you smiled back, “i would like that very much. i will have rei over as well.”

“well, the girls have decided then.”

yoongi fought off the urge to roll his eyes as the couple took their leave.

“i have to go to court,” he spoke after taking a glance at his wristwatch, “my driver will take you to my place.”

“alright. i will be gone to the hospital till late.”

yoongi shrugged, “hardly matters to me. i am home mostly after ten in the night.”

“oh. okay,” you replied before getting in the car, and the driver first dropped off yoongi at the court before taking you to his place. 

you stepped out of the car, your eyes stuck at the beautiful architectural monument in front of you. while the driver unloaded your luggage from the vehicle, your eyes fell on a lady dressed in a black dress with a white apron, stood at the front door. she resembled one of those maids from the eighty’s movies. her hair was prim and proper, her posture — the epitome of vintage high ladies.

“this way, ma’am,” the driver spoke up as he carried your luggage towards the entrance.

you followed him quietly till you saw the lady approaching you. she had the kindest smile you have ever encountered. although her skin was riddled with wrinkles, her features were sharp, nonetheless. she reminded you a lot of your own dead mother.

“i am juyun, ma’am, and i have been at mr min’s service for more than a decade. i am his family housekeeper. it’s so great to meet you.”

“please call me y/n, and it’s great to meet you, as well.”

“oh, i can never, ma’am. that would be inappropriate. if you kindly will, this way,” she twisted open the handle on the front door to usher you inside.

you walked inside the house as prompted by the kind maid. the driver brought your luggage and placed it in yoongi’s bedroom. early in the morning, yoongi had picked you up from your place along with your stuff. first, you headed to the registrar’s office and now here you are. within a matter of a few hours, your address, your marital status and your fate changed.

you looked around the house, which was nothing less than a palace.

“would you like to take a look around?” the kind maid, juyun, spoke up when you kept looking at the expensive paintings mounted on the wall.

“no, thank you. i have to go meet my father.”

“would you like me to draw a bath for you, instead?”

“yes, that would be nice,” you turned to her after finishing your short eye-tour.

juyun nodded and walked to yoongi’s room with you on her tow. one look around the room, and you knew it was yoongi’s bedroom. neatly organized and a hundred per cent devoid of any kind of personal memento, almost like it is specifically designed to be devoid of any personal touch.

“can you set up my room in the guest room, please?”

“as you say, ma’am.” juyun agreed at once like it was nothing odd. well, considering she has been in yoongi’s service for more than a decade, she clearly knew him better. 

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

later in the night, you were already asleep by the time yoongi came back home.

around one in the night, you woke up from a thudding noise on the window pane. you turned the bed lamp on and tried looking out the window but could see nothing other than a couple of branches of the maple tree on the porch. due to the night breeze, the branches might have been crashing against the window. turning the light off, you laid back down, but in the moonlight, the shadow of the branches on the opposite wall looked like a hunched over man in a dark overcoat.

you are not one to get scared, but the unrhythmic thudding of the branches against the glass pane in the dead of night, inside a strange new house and empty room gave you the chills. juyun had informed you that she leaves the household premises before nightfall, so you knew, yoongi and you were the only people left in the house.

not thinking much of it, you went to sleep that night only to find yourself in the exact same situation the very next night. you held the comforter close to your chest, the darkness around you leaving room for an eerie aura to envelope the air. additionally, the shapeless shadows formed by the tree's branches were nothing less than scary.

that night as you slept, you had the worst nightmare. you dreamt of being chased by a shapeless form who wanted nothing but to hurt you — hurt you bad. it was malicious and evil. it made no sense because you have never had nightmares like these.

you woke up to your ringtone blaring loudly. it was an unknown number, and you hesitated to answer it, but right before the call would finish ringing completely, you picked it up. it was the state prosecutor’s office asking you to come over so they can prep you for the trial tomorrow. right. you still have to appear in court. given how sly and resourceful yoongi is, you already had the feeling that even appearing in court would not really amount to anything. nonetheless, you were going to exhaust all your options at helping out the dead fellow.

thursday came in a blurry, and you were up all night thinking about all the possible outcomes. last night when yoongi came back home, he had come up to your room to ask you if you were still planning to show up at court. when you replied in the affirmative, he just laughed. there was an air of smugness surrounding him like he had already planned ahead, at least, five moves. 

at the first rays of sunlight illuminating your room, you left the bed and started searching up courtroom etiquettes online. you have never been more nervous in life, it felt like the most significant examination of your life and you, so badly, wanted to pass.

you rummaged through your luggage to pull out your only formal skirt. tucking the white dress shirt inside the skirt, you stood in front of the mirror in the washroom to look for any creases. sighing, you grabbed the comb and neatly gathered every strand of hair to tie it in a ponytail before walking out in a pair of heels.

yoongi was having his breakfast while reading the newspaper. he took one look at you before turning the page to the finance section, “someone knows how to clean up.”

you kept quiet and headed towards the door.

“i can drop you off, i mean i am going to court as well. courtesy of you.”

“i can go there myself, thank you,” you replied before exiting the house. the bus takes half an hour to reach the trial court compound, and you did not want to risk arriving late.

reaching the court compound, you found your way around and sat in the spectator stand, your hands sweating from feeling extremely anxious and nervous. you kept memorising how to refer the judge, ‘your honour, my name is y/n.’ ‘your highness?’ ‘no, your honour’ ‘or is it your lord/ladyship?’

“top of the morning to you, little one,” your husband whispered when he walked past you to the attorney table and sat on the left side. he was accompanied by another sharp-looking man dressed in a fine suit.

you rolled your eyes at that but kept sitting quietly. the stand filled up soon to about half of its capacity, and everyone rose to their feet once the judge entered the courtroom. the trial started within moments, and you watched the sharp-looking man, introduced as the defence counsel, mr harvey specter, skilfully refute every piece of evidence that the prosecution had built a case on. you were expecting your husband to fight the case, but he had his firm partner representing him. the whole exchange between the defence and prosecution went by in a flash. you tried to keep up with the arguments till you heard the prosecutor calling your name.

“your honour, i would like to call to the witness box prosecution’s last witness, y/n,” the public prosecutor said after presenting all the facts.

“permission granted,” presiding judge marly replied.

prompted by the prosecutor, you stood up and walked to the witness box. it was surreal and nothing like how it is usually portrayed on television.

“state your name for the record and relation to the case,” the judge asked once you were done repeating the words of affirmation.

“your honour, my name is y/n..” you trailed off.

“are you sure, dear? you sound unsure of it,” marly J. commented, her dominant hand scribbling away.

your eyes followed her hand, your own shaking a bit. you turned forward to notice that everyone in the courtroom had their eyes on you. mainly, that unmistakable predatory gaze of min yoongi, who looked like this was all a piece of cake for him.

“miss, can you state your name for the record and relation to the case,” the prosecutor repeated the judge’s words when you kept sitting quietly.

“i-i’m sorry. my name is y/n, and i heard a conversation regarding the murder.”

“can you tell the court what you heard? verbatim, if you will,” the prosecutor asked of you next.

you nodded and duly obliged, narrating the exact words of the conversation that you had heard that day.

“do you swear that this is a true and accurate statement?” the judge asked.

you nodded, “yes, your honour.”

“do you recognize that man,” the prosecutor pointed at yoongi, “as the one who had that particular phone call conversation?”

you followed the prosecutor’s hand and looked at yoongi, who winked at you. the gall of this man.

“yes, sir. that’s him.”

“let the record reflect that the witness has identified the defendant. no further questions, your honour,” the prosecutor walked to the attorney table and sat down.

mr specter stood up once the state prosecutor sat down. he fixed his blazer, buttoning it up as he walked to the stand and stood in front of you.

“miss, can you state your full name for the record? the name that you have taken over since your marriage,” he started.

“min y/n.”

“married to?”

“min yoongi,” your eyes boring holes into yoongi’s, who smirked a little at your tone.

“can you please tell the court what this is?” mr. specter brought over a piece of paper and handed it to you. 

you took the paper and glanced at it quickly, “it’s the marriage certificate of mr min and i.”

“very well, can you tell me when is it dated?”

“16th August...” you read out the date, and at the realization, your voice died down. it was back-dated. you married him two days ago, not one month ago but the date on the marriage certificate said otherwise. clearly attested by the government ordained registrar.

mr specter turned, “let the record show that the prime witness of the case is the wife of one of the named defendants, and the conversation took place after they were married.”

“objection your honour,” the prosecutor stood up, “relevancy.”

the judge turned to mr specter for his reasoning.

“your honour, the relevancy of this established fact will be shown to the courtroom very soon. in order to do that, i would like to call the defendant, min yoongi, to the stand.”

“very well. please proceed.”

you stood up and walked down, giving space for yoongi to take the seat. you were feeling airy headed since you knew precisely what yoongi was going to do. truth be told, you showed up at court today solely on that last morsel of hope that maybe your testimony can amount to anything, something, but yoongi was going to tear it all down to nothing.

“mr min, do you recognise this woman as your wife?” mr specter asked.

before yoongi could answer, however, the prosecutor spoke up.

“objection, your honour. already asked and answered. counsel is wasting the court's time.”

mr specter did not wait for the judge to rebuke him and started, “seems like my learned friend is in a hurry, so allow me to rephrase. do you recall having the conversation with or in front of your wife, min y/n?”

“no, your honour,” yoongi lied through his teeth, “i do not recall having that conversation even in the slightest. additionally, anything between my wife and i is protected under spousal privilege.”

“counsellors, approach the bench. you too, mr min,” marly J. commanded before walking to the attached judge’s room.

the prosecutor, mr specter and yoongi walked to the judge's room.

marly J. was sitting in her chair and had a distasteful scowl on her face, “mr min. my courtroom deals with criminal cases, not family issues.”

“i am well aware, your honour,” yoongi replied.

the judge turned to the prosecutor, “i believe your entire case was based on her testimony, but i cannot allow it.”

“your honour, please reconsider. this is the first time any witness has willingly testified against kim seokjin.”

“i cannot deny a citizen their right to the privileges they enjoy granted by the law. everyone is equal in front of the law. i cannot allow it. if there is nothing further that you can produce to stand your case, i am disposing of it.”

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

when the opposing counsels, along with your husband, had gone to talk to the judge personally, you could already guess the outcome of this whole stunt. defeated, you did not wait for the judge to pass the order and left for the hospital to be with your father.

that night, you were scared to fall asleep. counting sheep was not helping, neither was watching anything on the phone. your eyes drooped with sleep, but just as sleep started to seep in, you woke yourself up. but there is only so long till you can keep yourself up forcefully. soon you fell into a deep slumber and almost like a lucid dream as you saw the exact same nightmare. only this time — the figure had caught up and was about to hurt you, but you managed to wake yourself up just in time. now you know, the faceless figure is the dead man over whom you have, so far, risked and ruined your entire future. you have done your part. you cannot possibly fight a system alone when the corruption is at every micro-level.

on the fourth night, you seriously debated what to do about this situation. during all this time, you have had absolutely zero interaction with your so-called husband. he left for work around nine and came back around eleven, had his meals alone as you had a different daily routine. juyun took care of everything around the house, so it was not like your presence was required anywhere. you kept yourself limited in the four walls of the guest room while you were in the place, the rest of the time you spent with your father, who was getting the treatment he needed. amidst the quiet of the night, as your mind raced through all these thoughts, a car horn from the main road caused you to flinch.

“fuck it,” you mumbled before getting out of bed. grabbing a t-shirt, you put it on over your racer-back tank and headed out into the doorway. you do not know exactly remember which way was yoongi’s room and amidst the dimly lit hallways, all the corners looked the same, but you kept walking forward till you came upon a door, wherefrom under the small gap at the bottom, a faint light was coming out causing you to knock at it.

there was a shuffle of sheets, and the door opened to reveal yoongi in his pyjamas. he was wearing a t-shirt with a pair of joggers, not much different than your attire.

“what?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

“i can’t sleep,” you admitted shyly.

“i don’t know any lullabies,” he walked in, leaving the door open. you walked in too, closing the door behind you.

“no. i mean, can i sleep here tonight? i’ll sleep on the couch.”

“whatever,” yoongi replied before sitting on the bed with his laptop as he resumed typing something.

you sauntered to the couch and sat on it first, watching yoongi work. he was not lying. he really did not care and continued typing whatever he was working on.

you took off your slippers and pulled your bent legs on the couch, letting your head rest on one of the armrests. your eyes were trained at him, your arms crossed over your chest in a fight or flight mode.

sleep took over soon, but it was uncomfortable to lie in that awkward position. you kept repositioning your head or your legs in the sleep, not being able to drift into a deeper sleep that your tired body needed.

yoongi finished his draft in about two hours. he turned off his laptop and looked up to see you still curled up in that uncomfortable position. for the past two hours, he has not failed to note that you could not sleep properly. he stood up, keeping away his laptop on his desk before walking to you. he let a kick on one of the legs of the couch, causing a vibration.

“get up.”

by the third kick, you woke up, squinting your eyes open. yoongi was standing in front of you, hands in his pocket, “what?”

“get on the bed.”

you sat up at once, alarmed at his words. 

“whoa, whoa, i am not trying to jump you. it’s three in the morning, little one. i finished a draft, and i only want to sleep now. so just get on the bed. you are clearly uncomfortable.”

“promise you won’t touch me?” you asked, massaging the back of your aching neck.

he nodded tiredly, “go ahead. you can sleep on the right side. the left is mine,” he said before heading to the washroom.

you walked to his bed and crawled on the right side of the extra comfortable king-sized bed. by the time you settled under the warm covers, yoongi came out of the washroom and joined you. he turned off the lights and turned his back to you after getting inside the covers.

November 2020:

over the past two months of your early married days, your interaction with your husband has been questionably none. some nights, you overcome your fears and sleep in the guest room, other nights when they overcome your conscience, you end up sleeping with yoongi again, in his bed, against his warmth but that is about it. there is never much talk.

some days it feels like he is intentionally ignoring you or avoiding to talk to you but with time you have concluded that he is a busy person in general and is not exactly putting up a front to ignore you.

some other days, it feels like he is just putting up a show but he has other intentions. like when he shifts in his sleep and his hand sometimes falls on your chest, his fingers almost moulding to the shape of your breast causing you to glare at him but his soft snores are evidence enough that he is clearly asleep and the movement is unconscious.

either ways, he is a not a man of a lot of words. or maybe he is, considering he is an advocate. you don’t really know, and he never leaves space for you to know him any better. your marriage is a sham and will never pick up pace, so you turn your focus to the one constant in your life; your father.

after receiving the best cancer treatment (curtesy of your generous husband), your father did get better last month but after a few weeks, he started deteriorating again. the doctor has already informed you that there is no hope and you know too, that look in his eyes is unmistakable. more or less, you have accepted it but that has not brought any break in your daily routine.

every morning you wake up alone in the bed as yoongi wakes up before you, take a quick shower, finish your morning routine and breakfast and then head over to the hospital to spend time with your father. most days you read to him, while on others, he reminisces about his past and tells you more stories about your mother than you have ever heard since your childhood.

you were flipping through the pages of wuthering heights, trying to look for the last line that you read when your father’s eyes fell on your wedding ring.

“what’s that?” he asked, his eyes stuck at your ring finger.

“hm?” you softly hummed, very much invested in finding the bookmark till you followed his gaze and gulped. you must have forgotten to take it off before walking in his room a few hours ago, “it’s a ring.”

“for what?”

“fashion, dad. it’s just a ring,” you shrugged it off confidently, turning your gaze back to the book.

your father sighed. he knows you, he knows no matter how hard he is going to try, he will not be receiving a straight reply from you, “i still don’t understand how you can afford this CCU room. i asked a nurse and the per-day cost is more than our monthly rent.”

“i have told you, dad, just let me handle it the best way that i can,” you mumbled before finding the pencil mark and started to read again;

“i’m wearying to escape into that glorious world, and to be always there: not seeing it dimly through tears, and yearning for it through the walls of an aching heart: but really with it, and in —.”

“y/n, is there something you are hiding from me?” your father cut you off in the middle.

you sighed, putting down the book on your lap, your index finger keeping the book from closing, “not really. everything is fine, as always. i have handled everything, as always.”

your father turned his gaze back to the ceiling above his head, the same ceiling that he has been staring at for over a month now, “you know... your mother loved this book. her favourite line was honest people don't hide their deeds, and she truly lived by those words.”

“i am not hiding anyth—”

your father cut you off again. he overlooked your words as he was speaking in a flow, “i will forever regret that i couldn’t send you off to a good university. you were always the best in your class, always at a higher reading level than your current grade, and yet because of our family condition, you could not attend a university. like you deserved to.”

your hands closed the book shut, eyes now stuck to the graphic design of the cover as your father continued.

“and now i won’t be there to walk you down the aisle when you meet your prince charming.”

you unconsciously played with the wedding ring till you took it off and pocketed it.

“forgive me, y/n. turns out i am not the father that i should have been to you. i couldn’t support you financially, and i won’t be there for the rest of your life either. please forgive me.”

your vision turned blurry as tears welled up in your eyes, “stop saying that.”

“it’s the truth! you’re a good kid, baby. the best i could ever imagine having. all i can wish for till my last breath now is that you get the prince you deserve. a good guy who will take care of you better than i ever could.”

“stop saying that!” your enraged voice went up, unintentionally, “no can ever take care of me better than you did as a single dad. so just stop saying that. i will come again tomorrow,” keeping your head bowed down, you walked out of the room swiftly before your father could further protest.

sniffling in the hallway, you speed-walked to the restroom to bawl your eyes out. the moment your eyes met the mirror, the tears fell like an incessant waterfall. it took you around fifteen minutes to calm down, till your tears turned to a bitter chuckle as you laughed at the irony of your life. freshening up, you were drying your hands when you remembered that this is the exact place where your downfall started. the universe indeed has a wicked way to rub your face in it.

composing yourself, you left the hospital building to make your way back to the place you have been calling ‘home’ for the last two months. it did not feel like home. even the walls were unwelcoming. you had nothing to do. your status was nothing more than a piece of wall furniture, not even a fancy one at that. probably the cheapest one that your husband owns.

there were no visitors, no family, just the maid who leaves every evening after preparing dinner. everything around the house is always taken care of. visiting your father every day was the only sort of routine you had in place, but that would come to an end soon, as well, just like everything does in your life.

“you are back early today, miss,” juyun spoke up when you walked into the living room. she was in the process of dusting the window panes.

“yeah...” you trailed off, meaning to walk away but stood your place, “i remember on my first day, you had mentioned that you are yoongi’s family housekeeper.”

juyun straightened up with pride at the mention of her employment history, “yes. i have served the min family diligently, ma’am and wish to do so till my bones cannot take it anymore.”

“so what about his family? where are they now?”

juyun’s proud smile vanished within seconds at your question. oh, you don’t know.

“i thought you knew, miss.”

“what do you mean?” your eyebrows furrowed with confusion as yoongi had never mentioned his family. he hardly speaks two-three words to you, let alone talk about his family.

“around five years ago mr and mrs min died in a car crash.”

“i’m sorry,” your blood turned cold at the revelation. your fate must be so tainted that you do not even have in-laws to call a family.

“they were murdered, miss,” juyun continued, tears streaming down her face, “your husband was still making his name in the legal world, and he had put an evil man in jail. a gang-man who had killed many, and then one day, mr and mrs min were hit by a truck when they were on their way back home. it was clear as day that the gang-man was behind this. then yoongi sir met with seokjin sir and soon founded his firm.”

“is the gang member still behind bars?”

“oh no, miss. he is dead. he was murdered in his own cell. police suspected some gang rivalry.”

juyun’s tone was sincere as she narrated the story to you, but it did not take you a moment to connect the dots. your father used to call you miss holmes due to how quickly you can see the bigger picture even with incomplete facts, half stories or wrong clues. honestly, you are the one who finds it annoying when people cannot see through the truth, it is always glaring them straight in the face, but they choose not to see it.

yoongi must be behind the death of the gang member, he must have taken help from seokjin, and then jeongguk must have taken care of the police. it was clear as the day really, the affiliations are apparent enough. after all, you are another victim of the same affiliations, only.

“where’s your ring, miss?” juyun asked, her hands touching your bare finger.

“oh, i took it off to wash my hands,” you brought the ring out of your dress pocket and wore it, “there.”

“it’s gold, dear. you don’t have to take it off when touching the water.”

“right. will keep it in mind next time,” you smiled before making your way to your room.

when yoongi came to bed after finishing work that night, he was surprised to find you awake. you are usually asleep by the time he comes.

during the first month, he would walk to the washroom to change, but he has stopped bothering. your face is usually turned towards the wall near the bed, so these days, he just changes in the room itself.

“can’t sleep?” he asked, changing out of his dress pants and into a fresh pair of sweats.

“no, was just lost in thoughts,” you turned back unbeknownst that his upper body was bare as he just took off his shirt, “i-i’m sorry,” you closed your eyes shut.

yoongi snickered noiselessly on noting that you did not close your eyes immediately, but after taking a good look at his body, “ahha,” he hummed after putting on the t-shirt and walking to the washroom to freshen up.

“can i ask you something?”

yoongi stepped out of the washroom and made his way to the bed, “go ahead,” he raised the covers and got inside them.

“what happened to your parents?”

you rushed it. you asked the main question way too early before laying down any groundwork. he was in a good mood, but his expression turned into a scowl on hearing your question.

“i don’t wish to discuss my parents. ever. if you wish to gossip, feel free to leave because i need to sleep,” he turned his back to you.

see, this is what you do not get. why do you have to lay the groundwork for someone? why do you have to walk on eggshells around someone? why can’t you just ask min yoongi something ever and actually get a proper answer. are you not a receptive person? do you not deserve to be talked to? it is always the same with your husband. he never wants to talk, never wants to give you even the slightest glimpse of his life. all you want, all you need, all you wish — to just talk to someone, maybe tell them about how you are feeling internally, about your father, about this complicated fate that you have found yourself tangled in, about your future, what lays ahead — all you want is to talk. you are always making sure that you do not take too much space, trying to never bother anyone as everyone is doing their own work, always spending your time alone knowing that it is not anyone’s job to entertain you or hang out with you. no one has time for you. even life does not have time for you. you, on the other hand, have all the time in this world, always free, just laying around on the bed, eyes either stuck to the ceiling or out the window, watching couples, friends, family walking by, having fun, spending time with each other.

life must be colourful for them, unlike the black and white permanent filter veiling on yours.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

yoongi came back one day around seven in the evening, very much to your surprise. he sat down on the wingback chair placed adjacent to the sofa set on which you were sitting, watching a movie on television.

“don’t do that,” you rolled your eyes upon noticing through the peripheral vision that yoongi had brought out a cigarette and was about to light it up.

“i am not having a good day,” yoongi drawled out lazily before lighting up the cigarette.

you sighed, “well, i can’t really help much if you don’t share stuff with me.”

yoongi allowed his body to rest back against the plush upholstery of the wingback chair, his one leg resting over the other, “what do you want to know?”

you almost brushed over the reply till it hit you that he was actually giving you a chance to ask him what you wanted to know. your eyes went wide at the realization as you put the television on mute and turned to him, “are you serious?”

“don’t push your luck, little one. ask me what you want before i change my mind.”

you parted your lips intending to say something but shut yourself up. it is early days, and you cannot spook him off yet. going in slow would be the best option. he will let you in eventually, but you have to be patient. nodding to yourself, you turned to him, “did something happen at work? you’re back early.”

“not really,” there was an uncomfortable silence; the smoke from his lit up cigarette, held tightly between his long fingers, formed a cloud before he brought it up to his lips and took a drag, “a dumb cop filed the wrong charge-sheet against a client of mine and then my junior had the absolute audacity to let his phone ring inside the courtroom. kids these days are fucking embarrassing.”

you nodded, not to anyone in particular, acknowledging what he talked about. it did not seem that big of a deal, but you guessed it was one to yoongi. 

you started thinking again before asking the second question. the last thing you want is for him to shut off as usual, “is there something that i can help you with?”

you were not expecting him to reply in the affirmative, but it made your ears perk up when he did. you can be of some use to someone? anyone? wow, what a day.

“yes, actually. thanks for reminding me. seokjin hyung is eating my head off about the gathering. he wants to call the boys and their wives to meet you. i swear if hyung and jeongguk text me one more time about this, i will block them.”

“we can have them over. i don’t mind. it would be nice to have people over, i guess. i mean, i would love to look over the arrangements and meet them.”

“you sure? they can be a handful. they are basically adults on steroids.”

you giggled softly at the comparison, “can’t be that bad.”

“fine. don’t say i did not warn you in advance.”

you went to add something more, but his phone started ringing.

“guess time’s up,” your husband put out the cigarette before making his way towards his study. he stopped in his tracks and turned to pat your head, “good talk.”

you watched him leaving just as smoothly as he had arrived, “condescending, cold bastard,” rolling your eyes, you went back to watching the movie.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

jung hoseok was the first one to arrive. as informed by your deeply cherished husband, you know that he manages the biggest chain of hotels in south asia and has been a loyal client of yoongi’s for almost six years now.

“hello, mr. jung,” you smiled politely as he was let inside the living room by juyun.

“oh hey, you must be y/n. it’s great to finally meet you,” he smiled back with the same fervour.

“and your wife...?” you trailed off, unsure. as far as you remember, yoongi did mention that all his friends were married.

“ah, dany is at home with our son. he is only five months old, so she doesn’t really leave the house much.”

“oh! congratulations on the baby boy.”

“yeah,” hoseok nodded awkwardly as the conversation turned silent, “well, i hope you don’t mind that i am here early. i came here directly from work. had i gone back home, i would have just fallen asleep.”

you nodded at that, but before you could reply, yoongi came down from his bedroom. juyun must have informed him that hoseok was here.

“i’ll take it from here,” yoongi’s hand brushed against the small of your back as he smiled at hoseok, “let’s talk in my study till the rest of the party arrives.”

hoseok nodded, and both the men left for yoongi’s study room. you kept standing there, thinking about the way he left, but his touch lingered on your skin through the fabric of your black a-line dress. it burned through your being, and you craved it more, just like you do every night when he scoots a little bit too close. 

you must have been standing there for a few minutes because the next thing you heard was the honk of a car pulling up in the driveaway.

yes, more guests. your hands instinctively straightened your wrinkle-free dress to greet the guests.

“ah, you,” your lips broke into a rhetoric smile when your eyes spotted jeon jeongguk.

jeongguk shrugged, smiling back, “hello, miss.”

“do you guys know each other?” a soft female voice from behind him caused you to crane your neck sideways till the figure came out in front.

jeongguk turned to his wife, “know? yoongi hyung met her cause of me! it’s a shame they did not call me to the wedding.”

“really? that’s nice,” the girl turned to you, a smile on her face, “i am azumi, jeongguk’s wife.”

“where’s hyung?” jeongguk asked after taking a look around.

“he’s in the study with mr. jung,” you informed him.

“sweet. i believe you ladies would certainly find something to talk about,” he smiled at his wife before walking away.

you just stared at azumi, not knowing what to say or do. you have spent most of your adult life working, taking care of your father and then locking yourself up in your room. that was your ‘me’ time. socialising, going out, having friends is not something you are good at, even by a tiny bit.

“can.. we sit?” azumi asked, gesturing at the couch.

“a-o-of course! sorry, my bad. i didn’t ask you to even sit.”

“it’s fine. happens to the best of us, don’t worry. you’ve got this,” azumi smiled, grabbing your hand as she walked to the couch and sat down with you beside her.

you felt relieved. you are not an anti-social person. you just need the proper nudge to open up and talk.

azumi almost had the opposite personality as you. she was charming, bubbly and knew her way around words. it almost seems like a cruel joke that her husband is jeon jeongguk. well, she seemed clearly ignorant of the exploits of his corruption. that much was clear.

“oh and then tanaz and i we- wait, do you know tanaz?” azumi asked in the middle of telling you about her university life.

you shook your head a no, “i’m afraid not.”

“don’t worry! you’ll know when they come over. she’s my best friend. we’ve known each other since we were kids.”

your fingers softly played with each other, your clasped hands lying in your lap, “that must be nice.”

“yeah, it is. you must already know inaya, at least?”

“i have met her, but we haven’t talked much, really.”

“oh...” azumi sighed. she could easily sense that this was all new to you, and she has been trying to make you loosen up, but so far, it has not worked well, “is there anyone coming tonight that you know?”

“yeah! rei is coming, she’s my friend. not exactly my friend, more like my little sister, but i’ve known her since school!” you beamed almost, happy that you also have someone in your life that you have known for a while. life is not that bad. you have some aspects like most normal people, as well. and knowing that, just that fact gave you satisfaction at the moment.

azumi grinned at your enthusiasm. yes, it finally worked!

around twenty minutes later, rei finally came, and so did inaya and seokjin.

“you’re late, miss,” you huffed as rei walked to you, giving you a brief hug.

“i know, i know, i wanted to get something for you, but nothing just seemed right.”

“what? no! you didn’t have to.”

“psst, not taking a no. here,” she handed you a gift-wrapped packet.

“i’ll check it later.”

“no! open it now. i want to see if you like it,” she urged you till you finally gave in and took off the wrapping paper to reveal a picture frame. it contained an old picture of you with rei, back from high school. the photo was taken on sports day, dressed in matching uniforms and cute braided pigtails. you were pinching rei’s cheeks, who was trying to escape your hold.

“i think i am the only one who has a copy. so, i want you to have it,” rei smiled eagerly, waiting for your reaction, but you kept staring at the picture, your eyes turning glassy.

“i love it. thank you. thank you so much,” you sniffled once, soaking your tears back in before putting up the frame on top of the fireplace, “and this is...?” you gestured towards the male who had accompanied rei and was now talking with seokjin. the two men had struck up quite a conversation.

“that’s um, jimin-ssi,” rei turned towards the jimin-person who noticed you both staring at him, so he flashed you both a toothy smile causing you to smile back in return.

“boyfriend?” you grinned, turning back to rei.

“uhh, we got married last month.”

“wait a second, you got married? what?”

“it’s a long story,” rei mumbled, her gaze towards azumi, “i’ll tell you later.”

you followed her gaze and nodded, “right. come here, this is azumi, and you surely remember inaya.”

rei nodded before joining the girls. another five-six minutes and taehyung and his wife, tanaz, arrived. the men came out to the living room as well, and yoongi introduced you to all of them one by one while you introduced jimin to them.

late into the party after concluding dinner, you turned around yourself. everyone seemed to be having a good time. it made you genuinely smile. after months, you had something to do, arrange a party you had never done before. one-night yoongi came back and informed you that the party was going to be on friday night. that was on a wednesday, so basically you had two days to arrange everything. juyun was glad to help, but she offered you took the lead and asked you to manage everything before asking for her help. at first, it terrified you because you did not want to screw up, not at your first gathering, but it was thrilling, too. you went shopping for hours, took hours to finalise the dishes, the drinks, the décor, everything. and to see it all come together nicely, your smile only grew fonder.

“so, why do i get a vibe that you guys don’t like jeongguk?” azumi asked suddenly, making all of you quiet down.

the men were sitting separately on the other side of the room, drinking and smoking. they had a completely different conversation going on, more like they were in their own world.

tanaz was the one who broke the silence, “’cause he’s an asshole.”

“hey, that’s rude!” azumi smacked tanaz’s arm lightly in mock retaliation.

while they laughed it out, inaya and you just exchanged the ‘who’s gonna tell her’ look between each other. seems like no one really liked jeongguk.

“what? he’s a jerk, and so is dr taehyung,” tanaz scoffed, finishing her wine in a gulp. there was a certain tinge of anger laced with her voice when she enunciated the doctor.

inaya cringed at it, “aria eonnie is testimony to that.”

tanaz chuckled, “she sure is.”

azumi kept quiet at the comment, choosing not to go into further details. you certainly did not know any of them enough to contribute to the conversation. while rei quietly observed the girls, her gaze moving back and forth between them like a bobblehead.

tanaz stood up to refill her glass, “rei is awfully quiet tonight,” she poured some more of the red fluid into her wineglass.

“oh, this is all new to me. i am still processing it in,” rei smiled sheepishly, “you guys seem very close, i mean from the way you are bitching about your husbands.”

“bitching? if only,” azumi let a bitter laugh.

rei turned to you first, to which you only gave a shrug, so she continued, “am i missing something?”

“oh no, you are fine, darling. ignore us,” tanaz tutted back to resume her place, “tell us about yourself. what do you do?”

“i am an advocate. i work in yoongi sir’s firm.”

“that’s amazing! where did you meet that charming devil?” azumi asked, her eyes gesturing to where jimin was sitting, talking with jeongguk.

“at work..” rei trailed off.

“really? i thought you said he was a dance teacher?” you inquired further.

“he is. he is a choreographer and works mainly in the k-industry, but we met at work. it’s a long story really,” rei dismissed your queries and chugged down her wine.

“if you don’t mind my asking, how old are you? you look quite young,” azumi asked after rei refilled her glass.

rei turned to her, “i can say the same, really. you hardly look older than me. if you don’t mind my asking, how old are you?”

azumi laughed at rei’s defensive tone, “wah, forgot you are a lawyer for a second. it’s not an interrogation. we are all friends only.”

rei joined her and laughed too, “i’m just kidding. i’m twenty-two.”

“oh,” tanaz paused and turned to inaya, “turns out we have another member joining the maknae club.”

“welcome to the club,” inaya clinked her wine-glass against rei’s at that but kept the glass away, not taking a sip.

“tell us about your married life,” tanaz asked further. rei was a new target, and the girls indeed loved hassling her. it was fun to watch rei getting flustered, so you allowed yourself to indulge as well instead of saving her, like rei wanted, evident from her pleading eyes every time she looked at you. she was indeed not the extrovert of the bunch.

“it’s certainly a new experience,” rei let a soft sigh.

“yes, the honeymoon phase. it’ll fade away soon, believe me. ask inaya, she’s been doing this for four years,” azumi was the one to reply this time.

inaya did not register the statement as her eyes were stuck at her husband’s figure.

“inaya?” azumi touched inaya’s hand, causing the latter to flinch as she was brought out of her thoughts.

“i’m sorry. what’d i miss?” her eyes travelled between all of you ladies.

“nothing. tell us what’s going on with you,” this time, it was tanaz again who spoke.

“the usual, really,” inaya exhaled. it was more a mumble. her wine-glass went untouched, and when you brought that up, inaya seemed visibly dishevelled, “i can-can’t drink.”

“is everything alright?” you turned to her, worried this time.

inaya’s gaze moved towards her husband first, then to tanaz, who was quick to her rescue.

“she can’t drink cause of a medical condition.”

although the hesitancy in their voices indicated something more, it was not your place to pry further, so you left the topic alone.

the night grew, and the clock struck half-past ten. it was azumi who stood up first and made her way to her husband. 

she tapped on his shoulder, “we should get going. you’ve duty in the morning.”

jeongguk sighed, taking one last drag from the cigar before handing it over to hoseok, “yes, baby,” he turned to the men, standing up, “unlike you rich pricks, i have work in the morning.”

“mm, officer. thank you for your service,” seokjin mocked, gaining a laugh from the rest of them.

jeongguk chuckled, wearing his jacket, the right sleeve of which he kept getting wrong till azumi held it up for him to slide his right arm in.

you watched the couples quietly, as one by one, all of them took their leave after bidding you and your husband a goodnight. rei had stayed back to help you clean up till you literally had to scold her that you could handle it.

“she never takes no for an answer,” jimin spoke, his first words to you that night.

“yeah, she’s always been like that. take good care of her. she only has you.”

“oh my god, that’s so embarrassing,” rei groaned, rolling her eyes.

it felt like you guys were back in high school, making you giggle at her tone as you hit her head, “shut up. i have lived one year more than you. that’s 365 days more. eonnie knows better.”

rei was leaning against jimin’s figure, holding on to his arm, tired from the long day, but she straightened her back the moment yoongi walked in after seeing off the guests and stood by your side, “thank you for having us, sir.”

“not at all, rei. thanks for coming over. you too, mr. park.”

jimin nodded, shaking his hand before they set on their way as well.

you watched from the front door as jimin and rei got in their car and drove out of the porch. you walked back inside, closing and locking the door behind you.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

rei kept staring at jimin, who drove carefully, he was not drunk out of his senses but enough to make him tipsy.

jimin caught her constant stare, “what?”

“you smoked. i have never seen you smoke.”

“i don’t. that was just a cigar,” he shrugged.

“fine. did you have a good time?”

jimin nodded, changing gears after the signal turned green.

“see! and you thought you would be bored alone.”

“i was able to make friends, luckily that’s all. oh, by the way, i will be going out with jeongguk tomorrow for some drinks.”

“really? of all the people, you chose to be friends with that guy?”

“what do you mean?”

“i don’t like his vibe, i don’t know. there was also a weird tension between the ladies regarding jeongguk and taehyung,” rei shrugged, “it was all peculiar.”

“doll, you are overthinking. i will also be meeting with seokjin hyung about some work.”

rei let a soft sigh in reply before turning her gaze out the window, watching the tall buildings fly by in a blurry haze. 

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

it has been a while since the couples left. you retired to your room after cleaning up. a knock came and the door opened while you were in the middle of changing out of your dress.

“hey, just wanted to than- fuck, i am sorry,” yoongi closed his eyes, halfway inside the room.

“did something happen?” you asked, your hands pulling up your shorts in a second. you were clad in a t-shirt.

“no, i came to thank you.”

“you can look. it’s fine.”

yoongi peeped one eye open before blinking both of them open, “thanks for arranging the party. everyone had a good time.”

you nodded, noticing his stumbling gait, “you’re going to trip over that corner,” you grabbed his hand in a plea to sit him on the bed.

under the spell of alcohol, yoongi lost his balance and held on to your arms. you both stayed frozen at the moment. yoongi sitting at the edge of the bed, and you standing between his legs, his hands holding your arms. it did not matter how it happened, but the only thing your mind registered was yoongi’s lips on yours. you could taste the alcohol and cigar on his tongue, but it did not really matter, not when this was the first time kissing your husband. your arms lying by your side bent at the joints and raised up to touch his hair. his hands let you as you run your fingers through his hair.

yoongi pulled away and touched the side of your face with his slightly raised hand, “i wanna see your tits,” he mused lazily.

you batted your eyelashes, oh so lustily, before lifting your arms over your head to swiftly get rid of your t-shirt, which you had just adorned a few moments ago. your breasts hung inside one of your standard bralettes, and you saw yoongi’s hand extending towards your chest before it stopped mid-way, abruptly.

“how old are you, again?” he blinked before focusing his gaze back at your face.

“twenty-three,” you replied, your fingers playing with themselves enclosed within your clasped hands resting at the small of your back.

“fuck,” yoongi muttered a curse before retracting from your figure, “you are a fucking kid. do you know old i am? i am thirty-three. this is wrong,” he shook his head as if trying to break his daze from the alcoholic riddle.

before you could complain, he removed himself from your room at once and stumbled his way to his bedroom.

your hands unclasped and rattled with the sipper bottle placed on the nightstand for a countable few moments before you tipped it over in annoyance. this is okay. you can get past this. breathing sharply, you gathered the discarded t-shirt from the floor and made your way to the bed, sitting down with the fabric in your lap. 

maybe it is not okay, after all. how dare this atrocious and scandalous man marry you in a frenzy and then keep you locked away without so much as a bit of sexual relief. all these months, he would not even look at you, and now that he has, he sees you as a literal child. so he is a bit older than you? he should have thought of that beforehand. you did not ask for any of this, and he does not get to deny you anymore, not after the way he literally runs his devilish tongue over his lips. he can run them over yours. it is not really that difficult, not when you are entirely willing to hold your panties out of the way to give him better leverage.

balling up the t-shirt, you threw it at the couch before setting out towards your lawfully-wedded husband’s bedroom. you opened the door with a single push of your hand in the most dramatic way possible. upon entering, you noticed yoongi splayed out on the bed, still clad in his work clothes, the back of his dominant hand resting over his closed eyes, obscuring his vision. he did not bother to look up as he knew it was probably just you coming over to sleep on his bed. 

he is used to it now, but what he is not used to at all is the feeling of your unfamiliar lower figure settling around his crotch area. tearing away the hand from his eyes, he looked at you in shock only to find you making yourself comfortable on his reclined lap.

“the fuck is this, now?” he asked in apparent distaste.

too bad cause you are not going to have any of it, “i am not a minor, you know, and i am way over the legal age to drink alcohol even.”

“doesn’t change anything. i can’t do it—” his words were snatched right out of his mouth when he felt your hips moving, causing lewd friction between your heat and his crotch, “no no no,” he placed his hands on your hips in a plea to stop your movements, but you continued on. your eyes not breaking contact for a single moment, not even to blink.

“go ahead, stop me,” you shrugged nonchalantly, your heat hanging on to the zipper of his trousers, your hips still moving in a rhythm.

yoongi’s breathing went back to its average pace as he allowed himself to lay back down in the fortress of pillows, his eyes maintaining the contact that yours have established.

your hands lying by your side, now rested flat atop his chest, feeling every breath of his rumble inside the rib cage.

due to the lack of much-needed friction, you pushed aside the triangular patch of your shorts that barely covered the swell of your ass and placed your bare heat on top of his fully-clothed groin, soiling it a tad bit with your pre-lubrication.

“no panties, huh? did you want me to come and fuck you into the mattress?” yoongi finally asked when he felt your arousal forming a patch on the fabric of his trousers.

you shrugged, “i practically sleep naked every night. not that you would know—”

“i know,” he seethed this time, getting a hold of your wrists resting on his chest, “when you grind that sinful ass against my fucking dick in your sleep, i know, little one. i know.”

you did not mean to blush at his words, but you were practically gushing, glowing red all over when yoongi’s hands beckoned you closer to him.

“you don’t get to be shy. not now,” he tutted softly, his hands letting go of your wrists and grabbing onto each of your breasts. oh, how yoongi has restrained himself night after night from touching you, but he knew you were sleeping, and he did not want to risk doing the wrong thing, not when he did not know if you wanted it.

he kneaded your breasts from over the bralette that you were still adorning, “get rid of it.”

it was barely a whisper, but he did not need to repeat himself as you sprinted to action and completely unclothed your upper body.

yoongi’s hands now latched onto the globes of flesh, finally touching the soft skin. his touch was careful, needy, but gentle.

very unlike you, who was growing visibly impatient. you needed to have something stuffed deep inside you, preferably his dick, or else you would have to resort to touching yourself.

however, the extreme measures did not need to be acted upon as yoongi let go of your breasts and tapped on the side of your thigh, “c’mere.”

“what do you mean?” you shot him a confused look.

yoongi chose to keep quiet and, instead, locked his arms around your thighs, pulling your figure forwards.

you crawled up his chest hesitantly until your heat was, for all intents and purposes, right over his face.

“let it down,” yoongi tapped your thigh again.

you still held onto your weight and kept biting your lip, unsure.

“i won’t keep waiting forever, little one. i am trying to give you the release that you need, but if you hold back, there’s not much i can help with,” your husband spoke in his usual tone this time, his breath sending chills right up your spine.

you were slowly letting go of your weight, but yoongi fast-tracked the process by yanking your waist down till your heat was within the range of his tongue. his fingers manoeuvred the fabric of the shorts out of his way, his eyes stuck at your hardened nub. 

a squeal left your lips when his tongue darted out and touched your lower lips. the soft muscle was warm, but it felt ice-cold compared to your heat, causing you to shiver. the pointed tip of his tongue was not as gentle as his hands were as it prodded inside, inching past the outer lips of your labia. your hands rested against the headboard of the bed to support your figure as his tongue flicked the hardened nub. it did not take long to feel the moistened muscle lick your inner lips.

“oh—” you verbally let an exhale at the sensation, feeling short bursts of electricity in your pelvic region.

your intimate smell masked the air paired with the priceless view at your crotch from yoongi’s angle — the way your fleshy lips invited him in, the tender skin of your thighs, the way your arousal coated his tongue. he licked it all up and finally dived in to enjoy his five-star main course meal. yoongi tried his best to not use his hands and entice you with his tongue alone, but he had to use his fingers to hold your pussy lips apart. the further apart he held them, the deeper his tongue went, filling up your entrance. the further up his tongue reached, the closer he got to tasting your arousal. he brought his free hand over your clit, getting a hold of your sensitive nub. allowing his fingernails to graze against your skin, resulting in you squirming with each graze before he circled his thumb around the nub, applying pressure and gently massaging it in a circular motion. all the while, his tongue was lapping up your arousal. not letting you one moment breathe.

your hands clutched the headboard, the calf muscles straining from desperately trying to stay still but failing as they started shaking when his lips wrapped themselves around your labia and sucked on your slit.

yoongi let a slight slap on your inner thigh, “stay still, little one,” his voice was a mumble against your clit.

you whimpered at the vibration, your thighs inching closer towards his mouth, wanting to restore the earlier contact. yoongi softly chuckled at your actions before thrusting his tongue up your slit, holding your thighs apart. his tongue went in and out of your slit, licking a stripe up each time. the muscle circled the perimeter of the inner lips and started sucking relentlessly.

with the amount of pleasure and electricity pulsing through your veins, you did not even feel your orgasm ripping through. your juices had hardly even made their way out before yoongi’s tongue lapped them up and licked it all up. even that last drop which had slithered out onto your outer labia lips.

his tongue had you singing all sorts of songs — first, you started out with cursing out to your heart’s content when he nipped around your clit, giving you butterflies, then all that left your lips were soundless gasps and moans. only air escaped your lips while yoongi’s tongue thrust in and out of you. by the time you came, and he started licking clean every surface, your airy moans had reduced to downright whimpers similar to a mewling cat. your legs were shaking, one of your hands gripping the headboard while the other grabbing firmly onto his hair, your head resting against the wall — face first.

after yoongi made sure that he had not left out a single drop of your love juice, he finally let go of your thighs that he had locked between his arms to stop you from squirming away. the skin of your thighs where he held you down stretched after being released, and as the fresh air from the air conditioner touched the skin, it felt tickly even. his fingers imprints were growing clearly visible on your skin, including the mark from the metal of his wedding band. in a plea to catch your breath and reduce the strain of your calf muscles, you rested your legs carefully against the mattress, allowing your lower body to sit down, slow hands massaging the knees when the mattress behind you shifted.

yoongi had sat up, and while you recovered, he got rid of his suit blazer. The matching trousers followed next. his knees delved into the mattress as he unbuttoned his shirt when you turned back to him. grinning as your eyes took in the new expanse of untouched skin, you advanced towards him. your sneaky fingers pushing down the bands on either side of his underwear to unsheathe his hard length.

“i would like to return the favour,” you mused, palming his length and opening your mouth to take him in, but yoongi stopped you, and his hands pulled you up.

“i can see through your tactics,” there was a smug smile on his lips, “i know you are trying to rest up while sucking my dick, but there’s no time for that. i am nothing if not a man of his word so let me fuck your cute cunt into the mattress.”

his skilful hands wrestled you around. the moment you gained some stability in the new position, he yanked your hips closer towards his figure, lining up the tip of his length with your entrance.

“wait, wait, let me at least catch my brea —” your words turned into a low growl as his length dipped inside after catching onto some of your residual arousal.

there you go putting your all-time chartbuster songs on repeat. the sacrilegious litany of curses, the airy moans, the whimpers. yoongi really had you dicked down deep into the mattress, singing songs for him.

the stutter in his thrusts as he neared his high was unmistakable. his hips drawled out his plunges, forcing the intrusive length even deeper inside you with full force and boy, did you feel that. your head hit the pillow lying against the headboard with each of his drawn-out thrusts, his hands on your hips remained the only constraint keeping you firmly planted around his length.

“i’ll come again if you keep doing that,” your voice got muffled as your face rested on the pillow, your body impatiently waiting for his next thrust.

you felt yoongi lowering himself, his lips sneaking up near your left ear, his breath making even the micro-hair strands on the back of your ear stand up, “and who stopped you, little one?” 

his hips snapped forward, sending your bundle of nerves into overdrive, extricating the loudest moan from you that the four walls have been witness to this night insofar.

“nggh —” you came for the second time, your hot cavern sucking in his length, the constricting walls taking the shape of his length.

yoongi stood straight on his knees, watching your juices coat his length as they leaked out. he pulled his length out a bit, watching the string of cum stuck to his tip only to drive it in you again. a cry left your lips, your walls closing in against his length, pushing him closer to his high. one last thrust inside your deep walls and yoongi came undone on your lower back.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

after wiping away his cum from your back, yoongi tossed the soiled tissue into the trash can before lying down on the bed with a long exhale. you gathered your hair to the side and carefully laid your head down on yoongi’s chest, testing the water before getting comfortable. he did not object, so you snuggled closer, watching his chest rise up with each breath. coming down from your high, the air felt colder, and you wanted yoongi to wrap his arm around you, but he did not. instead, he brought out a cigarette from the packet. holding the butt between his lips, his hands traced for the lighter till he realized it was placed on the nightstand.

yoongi raised his upper body, while in the process, removing your head from his chest as he reached over the bed to grab the black lighter. it had a red dragon engraved on the side with some phrases written in japanese. he flicked the lighter on and lit up his cigarette, but his phone rang before he could lay back down. after receiving the call, he started talking, releasing deep clouds of smoke into the air, his head resting on the headboard.

“i am sorry for calling so late, sir. i left messages on your cell, but there was no reply, and i need to talk about tomorrow’s case.”

“yeah, i was busy. which judge is presiding over the matter?” yoongi asked, putting the phone on speaker and keeping it on his chest as he reached over the bed again to dust off the residual ash from the cigarette into the ashtray.

“judge chwe,” a male voice replied from the other side.

you quietly watched the whole ordeal, and it did not fail to catch your eye that he was not paying you any attention all over again. as if the pair of you did not just have sex. you let your finger draw lazy figures on his chest, not minding the conversation.

“fuck, really? he rejects all anti-bail pleas.”

“i know.”

“we have to bring up other points then. the interim period for arrest is over. guy’s been in jail for too long.”

“i have been working on the draft.”

“good, mail it to me,” yoongi replied and went to take another drag from the cigarette when his eyes went wide as you clicked on the red button on the screen, “what the fuck? why did you cut the call?”

you were taken aback by the change in his voice; it was laced with annoyance and pure anger than his previous nonchalant one, “i-i am sorry. you, um, wanna do it again?” you asked, trying to dissipate the air, your hand slowly travelling down towards his length but he stopped you.

“later. i have work,” yoongi replied monotonously, pushing the blanket over as he got out of bed. he put on a pair of boxers before redialling the number, making his way out of the bedroom. 

prior to the bedroom door closing behind, he peeked behind once, “get some sleep. i’ll be late.” and he was gone, just like that. while you lay in the bed like a discarded one-night stand. he might as well have left you a tip and called you a prostitute.

tears pricked at your lower eyelids. unbeknownst, you were tearing up. you hid your face in the pillow in an attempt to stop yourself from crying. he did promise you a loveless marriage — expecting anything more is naivety on your part. accepting that this is the closest he will come to showing you any intimate decency, you quietly went to sleep.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

the following day, your eyes fluttered open to your husband’s face mere inches from yours. his lips were slightly parted, his upper body was bare, and you guessed just as much for his lower body while you were stark naked, as well, under the modesty of the covers.

you let out a breathe you did not quite realize you were holding, your chest slowly heaving down. you let your fingers crawl up to the section of hair that had fallen forwards and was now shadowing his left eye. sweeping it away, you combed it gently with your fingers, setting it back with the rest of his hair.

now that you think about it, this is probably the first time you are seeing your husband from this close up. he looked different; he did not look so cold, so distant. he looked — normal. a living, breathing human just like everybody else. his eyes did not seem so cruel. instead, they looked peaceful, the brow line on his forehead; relaxed. he was sleeping on his stomach, his head resting sideways on the pillow — facing you.

you must have been deep in sleep when he came back to bed because you did not feel him crawling into bed beside you. just like every morning, you did not expect to find him beside you, much less sleeping beside you.

watching him, in the rawest version of himself, weirdly felt wrong. as if it was a crime to see through the layers he puts up. it felt illegal, yet you kept staring at him, breathing in his features.

there was a certain air of intimacy masking the situation. you both laid naked under the covers after a night of fervour love-making. he certainly knew how to please a woman, yet you have never caught him staring at anyone. his eyes feel dull at times, too burdened by his workload, constantly under stress. yet when he looked at you last night, his eyes were anything but dull. there was a spark that came and went with the beginning and conclusion of the physical act.

you wanted the moment to last forever, but soon yoongi’s eyes opened. his hands felt around the bed till it located his phone, which he brought in front of his face. his eyes squinted as the brightness through the screen increased to let the face recognition run. his phone unlocked, and yoongi swiftly went through the notifications before keeping his phone down. at his wordless series of actions, you had reclused into yourself, your hands clutching the edge of the covers close to your chest. holding on to the last piece of modesty, although you were not so shy the previous night. it must have been something in the wine, you are not this outright, or maybe it was something in your quiet husband that prompted you to take the drastic step – to bare your body to him.

“don’t do that. makes me feel like a pervert,” yoongi grumbled in his morning voice, causing you to establish eye contact with him.

“stop thinking like that.”

“i’m trying, but the situation keeps feeling wrong. you’re too young.”

your expressions turned into a scowl. what the hell is that supposed to mean now?

“as far as i remember, you claimed to know everything about me. you are the one that proposed the marriage contract. did it not strike you then?”

yoongi sighed, “you remember the circumstances leading to that very well.”

“so what? what am i supposed to do now? i sit around this house all day, alone, with nothing to do.”

yoongi sat up, stretching his rested muscles, “we will have this talk later on. i need to leave for work now.”

“you always do,” you did not mean to blurt that out, yet they left your lips like thorns aimed at him. you sat up too.

yoongi chose not to reply and got out of bed. he sauntered to the attached washroom, smearing a blob of toothpaste on the bristles of the toothbrush before walking out. his one hand laid inside the pocket of his boxer shorts while the other guided the brush against his teeth.

the air was warm. it smelled like last night’s sex amidst yoongi’s cologne. it had a powerful domestic feeling attached to it, and you hated it. you hated it with your whole being because you know yoongi would snatch it away any moment when he deems fit. he has done it countless times before, and he would do it again. he is cold, distant, and that is the truth. 

annoyed, you moved towards the edge of the bed, “hand me my bra.”

“i literally saw you naked last night,” yoongi mentioned before leaning down and grabbing the piece of fabric lying unceremoniously on the floor before handing it to you.

“turn around,” you kept holding the covers near your chest till he indulged you and turned around. you wore the bralette and grabbed your shorts, adorning them right after.

yoongi went to spit out the foam in the washbasin. by the time he came back to the room after freshening up, you had left.

you did not mean to leave that way or fight with him first thing in the morning, but he never refutes your action, never stops you or even says anything to make you feel like he cares. the warmth his physical body offers falls short in front of the icy emotional show he puts up. he could have come after you, right? he could have talked to you further, maybe help dispel whatever hesitations you had, help you see him in a better light, but he did not. he did not even pay it another mind as he continued with his morning routine.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

that night, you slept in the guest room. after the morning tiff, you had no further interactions with yoongi. he was gone for the day, and you had retired to the guest room by the time you heard his car pulling up on the porch. you checked the clock when your sleep was interrupted by the vibrations of his car wheels on the pathway. it was almost midnight. you kept lying in the dark, listening to the car door opening and then closing shortly, indicating yoongi’s descend from the vehicle. there was the jingle of the keys, and the front door opened and closed after yoongi walked in. you could hear his soft footsteps till he entered his room. of course, how dare you expect that he would come to talk to you or even want to see you. disappointed by your own expectations, you went back to sleep.

meanwhile, yoongi frowned when he walked into his room because it was empty. it was cold like every other night when you do not sleep in his room. it was a long and tiring day. he could really do with some cuddling or just your warmth against him. he stepped out of his shoes, took off his blazer and directly went to bed.

sniffing around the pillow cover, he noted the lingering fruity smell. yoongi moved back and realized he was sleeping on your pillow. it smelled like you, your shampoo, your scent. juyun must have kept it on his side after fixing the bed like she does every morning after yoongi leaves for work. however, he could not complain as he fell asleep holding it close.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

yoongi woke up right in the middle of deep sleep. it felt like he was forced awake, his consciousness grabbing at that he was just in his room, lying in his bed. something felt like it was poking at his thigh. he touched his pocket, his phone was still inside, and given the awkward position, its metal was poking uncomfortably. yoongi woke up fully on remembering that he slept in his work clothes, no wonder he woke up halfway through the minimum hours of sleep he gets. changing into his pyjamas, he tried to fall back asleep but failed. after forty-five minutes of fruitless efforts, he gave up. the clock read five thirty-five when his stomach made a loud grumble, the hunger clawing against the walls of his stomach lining, making its existence known.

right. he went to sleep without dinner. throwing on a warm pullover, yoongi made his way downstairs to the kitchen. he found eggs in the fridge and noticed some packets of ramyeon lying around the kitchen counter. juyun does not buy readymade food, so it must have been your doing. initially, yoongi thought of making some toast and eggs. still, the red colour of the shin ramyeon packet just pulled him in closer till he found himself cutting it open, pouring the contents of the flavour sachets into a pot of boiling water.

it has probably been a decade since he last cooked ramyeon, and the last time must have been when he was doing his bachelors and used to live in a dorm with his roommate yoo kihyun. he should probably call kihyun sometime. it has been so long.

it hardly took ten minutes to cook ramyeon with the vegetables, meat and eggs just like he likes it. turning the stove off, yoongi opened one of the cabinets to grab a bowl when, due to the slip of hand, another piece of utensil fell on the floor.

you know that feeling when you drop a utensil in the middle of the night, and it just would not stop bouncing against the floor, making the loudest possible noise all along? yeah, that is precisely what happened to yoongi at the moment.

grabbing the utensil, he put it back from where it fell, but it was too late. you were already awake and had made your way downstairs to the kitchen, thinking someone had broken in.

“yoongi?” you rubbed your sleepy eyes, your hair messy and awry.

“yeah, it’s just me. sorry about that. i was hungry,” yoongi watched you.

“what’s the time? are you in a hurry for work?” you asked, still confused. why is he cooking? where is juyun? why hasn’t she prepared breakfast yet?

“it’s five-fifty on a sunday morning, little one. no work,” he informed you, pouring the content of the pot into two bowls.

“oh, okay. enjoy,” you yawned and meant to walk away.

“do you want some ramyeon? i accidentally made too much,” yoongi’s voice caused you to stop in your tracks as he placed the pair of bowls on the countertop.

you gazed at his face first. is this your husband, min yoongi, or did some burglar break-in? but why would a burglar cook ramyeon in the kitchen?

you hesitantly walked to the countertop, pulling out a barstool and sitting atop it, “it surely smells enticing. looks like you cooked all the four packets.”

“yeah, i did not realize it until pouring in the last packet. back in college, i was in charge of cooking ramyeon, and kihyun and i had quite the appetite.”

“kihyun?” you questioned, grabbing a pair of the chopsticks.

“my dorm roommate,” yoongi replied, taking the first bite.

“oh. must be nice,” you took a bite too, almost stopping to admire the unique taste.

“yeah, we used to sneak out all the time,” he chuckled softly, his eyes sparkly from reminiscing some scene as you both continued eating.

“what else did you guys used to do?”

“all sorts of things, really. sneaking out, causing trouble, blasting fireworks right outside the dean’s office, playing as each other’s wingman in clubs, sneaking in alcohol and cigarettes.”

“he is a lawyer, too?”

“no, he was a business major. he won the young entrepreneur award, too.”

“are you guys not friends anymore?”

“mm, we are. just not much in contact. i went to the UK for my masters, he stayed back to build his empire. when i came back, i was too focussed on establishing a career. never really took a break.”

“do you want to?”

“what?” yoongi slurped on his noodles.

“do you want to take a break?” you reiterated before grabbing a spoon to drink the soup.

“i don’t know. i might. do you want me to take a break?”

you almost choked at his words, “wh-why does it matter what i want?”

“itmatterstome,” yoongi spoke too swiftly, but you caught each word. 

you kept staring at him, dumbfounded. if this is not a burglar, are you perhaps dreaming by any chance?

“c’mere,” yoongi motioned for you to come closer, and your body moved towards him just as his words beckoned as if moving along the sound of a pied piper.

you walked to him, stopping in between his legs which closed around you. his hands snaked around your waist before he raised a hand to smoothen down your hair, “you look so sleepy.”

“right? i must be dreaming!” you replied when you felt his lips on yours. you kissed back, thinking it was definitely a dream.

soon enough, there was a gasp causing you both to pull back at the sudden noise.

juyun trained her eyes at her feet, quick to apologise for the interruption, “i am sorry, sir. i was not expecting you here.” it was six-thirty. like routine clockwork every morning, juyun came to the main compound to start the breakfast preparations like she has over the past decade. she seriously did not expect to see her master and mistress kissing in the kitchen, of all places.

a shy blush appeared on the apple of your cheeks, your fingers resting against his pullover clutched onto the fabric. it was real, he talked to you, and he kissed you.

“it’s alright. we’ll let you get to work,” yoongi said before getting off the barstool, his hand grabbing yours as he walked out with you on his tow. you let him lead the way; you would let him lead you to hell itself if it meant he would talk to you, treat you like a human being, treat you like a husband treats his wife.

february, 2021:

it surprises you — how much yoongi and you have progressed as a couple. he is still cold, prioritises work over you, and hardly gives you any time, but it is genuine and honest when he does. at night when he comes to bed to you, he is yours. if you try slyly, you sometimes can extricate details about his life. his exterior is still just as hard, but when he enters the bed, that piece of furniture becomes a pure and sacred shrine where only you and he exist. it sounds more romantic than it actually is in reality. there is no pillow talk with him, no stolen glances, no soft gazes, just the raw version of him. he is not a man of a lot of words, even less so during sex, but he maintains the eye contact, and you know his eyes are earnest, at the very least.

more often than not, you have to try in various ways to know more about him because he can always call your bluff. well, that is what he does for a living, and he is good at it. he finds it fascinating that you always put in so much effort to get to know him better when he is nothing but a stranger that forced you to marry him on a whim. he had promised you a loveless marriage, and he has kept his end of the bargain, but he admires your rigour for not giving up on him.

unbeknownst to him, you only take an interest in his life because there is not much going on for you. you are not in love with the man you gladly sleep with, far from it. you still harbour the same feelings of disdain that had arisen during the whole testimony business. he is willingly protecting his friends who are openly indulging in criminal activities. how do you love a person like that? sure you allow yourself to submit in the physicality of it, allow him to touch your body, every crook and crevice, allow him to show you stars when he has you cumming just with his tongue, but that is it. you treat the bed as the shrine as well. whatever happens between you two stays there.

you had duly noted that yoongi only talked about his life before his parents passed away. he never touches upon the topic, nor does anything ever slip from his mouth. he carefully chooses his words and thinks things through before letting you in. so far, he has told you about his high school, college and then his UK experience. he talks about his family but only in traces. you do not mind it, as long as he talks to you and not just treats you like a wallflower.

life has been slow-moving, quiet, calm and primarily low-key, but then came the news that you had been dreading so far. one fine morning, your father passed away. his passing was peaceful at the very least, and all you did was stand quietly throughout the entirety of the funeral. the girls had offered to provide you with some moral support, but you refused them all. you only allowed rei to be there and the pastor who performed the last rites. you kept staring at the distance while the pastor narrated some verses about repentance and salvation — you could not care less.

“hey, do you have anything for the eulogy?” rei touched your arm to catch your attention.

you flinched at the touch and turned to her, “no,” shaking your head, you turned back to stare into the distance, albeit pointlessly.

the ceremony concluded within an hour, and yoongi was the one who took care of all technical details, and the rest was handled by rei.

“can you take her home? i need to take care of some final details,” yoongi asked rei, who nodded at once and escorted you to the vehicle, which took you both home.

“come here. you need to eat,” rei dragged your autopilot self inside the house by the elbow.

“um, ma’am, can eonnie have something to eat?” rei asked juyun.

“of course, miss,” juyun was quick to bring out food to the dining table.

prompted by rei, you sat down but refused to eat anything.

“don’t bother. thanks for helping, i will be fine.”

“you want me to leave you alone?” rei turned to you after pouring out a glass of water.

“if you don’t mind, yes.”

“i’ll get out of your hair. just take care of yourself. alright?”

you nodded as rei gathered her keys and wallet before leaving you alone.

once you heard the front door closing behind her, you left the dining hall and headed straight for the guest room, although, these days, you stay in yoongi’s bedroom.

about an hour later, the door to the guest room opened, “what are you doing here, little one?” yoongi’s voice was the softest that you have ever heard.

“thank you for taking care of everything,” you spoke up without missing a beat.

“you look guilty, more than upset.”

“i am,” you affirmed.

“why? you couldn’t have saved your father, you know that, right?”

“it’s not about that. it’s about the lies i told him. every day, i went to meet him. everyday i read him books and sang lies to him when he asked me how i could afford the treatment, the expensive medicine, the transplant, the CCU room. i never told him about you — us. not a word. i used to take off my ring before entering his room so that he would not ask about it. i only ever told him that i took care of everything and thought it would be enough, but it never was enough. it used to eat me alive. i only used to sit and read through pages of books but never talked to him about life. he used to try his best to engage me in conversation — telling me more stories about my dead mother than he ever had even when i used to ask him as a kid. he wanted me to talk to him, to open up to him and maybe tell him what was bothering me b-because he could tell that something was bothering me, but i said nothing. i only read through fucking pages of books that don’t matter to the dead anyway! i could have put his conscience at ease by telling him the truth, by letting him know that i would not be so lost without him like he feared till his last breath. yet, — i” you lost your voice as your words turned to hiccups, “i only lied to him,” you managed to finish your sentence, a high-pitched cry tearing through the confines of your throat.

yoongi noiselessly approached you, and although you tried your best to resist his touch and wriggle away from his grip, he kept holding you till the fight in you died down, and you let him hold you. your limbs never reciprocated, but you let him to hold you, let him rub your back, let him brush your awry strands back into place, let him wipe your tears every once in a while, till the flow of salty water through your eyelids blurred your vision too much. none of that really mattered. you just cried and cried.

you must have passed out because when your eyes opened next, they fell on the wall in front of you — an arm hanging by your lower waist, you could feel the warmth of your husband’s body from behind you. he was holding you close, his heartbeat reverberating against your back.

“awake?” yoongi asked when he felt your body squirming lightly.

“mhm.”

“are you feeling better?”

“yeah, thanks for that,” you mumbled, “how do you deal with death? i know i lost my mother years ago, but i don’t think i have ever actively dealt with the loss, just the consequences.”

“i’m probably the last person who is equipped to give advice in this area, little one. i am rude, i hold grudges, and i tend to remember the negative traits in people. i don’t think i have ever processed the passing away of my own parents.”

your breathing slowed down at the mention as you did not expect yoongi to be talking about his parents, “how did you deal with it?”

“i don’t. i am always annoyed and frustrated. annoyed because i don’t have them in my life anymore. frustrated because i couldn’t protect them, as a good son would’ve.”

you turned to now lie on your back, your face turned towards him, “you couldn’t have known, yoongi,” a raised hand touched the side of his cheek.

“you couldn’t have saved your father either, but you still feel guilty.”

“because of other reasons!”

yoongi grabbed your hand and removed it from his face, “i got my parents killed y/n. yes, i should’ve known. i should’ve protected them.”

“do you really believe that?”

“why won’t i? my actions directly led to their untimely demise. nothing else by my actions.”

“you put a bad man in jail! your parents certainly would have been proud of that.”

yoongi chuckled at that, “yeah, right. little one, no matter how many bad guys you send behind bars, there are always two others to fill up that place. the world is unfair like that, and these days, ‘doing the right thing’ means nothing to me.”

“is that why you are protecting mr seokjin?”

“not really. it is my job as a defence lawyer to protect my clients. i am just doing my job.”

“b-but it’s wrong….”

“being a defence lawyer is all about exploring the grey area of the statutes. we all do wrong things in life.”

you went to say something further but stopped and turned your back to him, continuing the previous snuggled-up predicament, “can you hold me?”

“i will always hold you, little one,” yoongi’s lips attached to the back of your earlobe to leave a chaste kiss before wrapping his arms around you in a warm hug.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

your stance regarding morality and justice has always contrasted with yoongi’s, and at times, he does not appreciate it, but he has come to admire you for not being swayed by way of the world. you still have the same stance you did when he first met you. the situations between you two have drastically changed – he threw you in the middle of a whirlwind, forced you to be his bride on a whim just because he wanted to check how the legal stance of spousal privilege upholds in a real-life courtroom situation, and yet here you are in bed with him.

the feelings he harbours towards you are not love, he is sure of it, but he likes you. he has come to adore your antics and at times even finds you endearing, but he will never admit it publicly, lest his body shall go up in flames.

initially, he regretted marrying you because he forgot that marriage entails more than signing a bunch of legal documents, and it is a whole human being in your house, in your face at all times. still, he has grown accustomed to your non-imposing presence, where you have grown to become a part of his day-to-day routine. and min yoongi is nothing if not a man of habit.

he was not always such a closed-off individual, but his parents' death hit him too hard, and he continued carrying those painful wounds around by never addressing his mental health. he drowned himself in work, quit his position as the public prosecutor, and had only one thing on his mind ‘revenge’. had it not been for kim seokjin, yoongi would have ruined himself completely instead, here he is. a reputed lawyer, founder of the top law firm in the city while also achieving the revenge he wanted. yoongi has also grown quite fond of the group of boys, they are not related to his personal life or his previous life when his parents were still alive, and that gives him a safe place to just be – he does not feel the need to open up to anyone about his feelings, he just wants to be. breathe, have a couple of whiskies, and just be.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

all this talk of losing family makes yoongi want a family. he knows that what you and he have does constitute a family, albeit a dysfunctional one, but it would not hurt to have a family of his own? you would probably agree too now that you have lost your own family. he is not trying to prey on you at your weakest moment but instead, have a rational discussion with his wife about it. life is full of surprises, and we never know what the future holds.

well, while yoongi was just casually sitting in his chambers, thinking of how to bring up the topic of having kids with you, what the actual future held was definitely not the surprise that he would have ever expected.

one minute it was all fine, like any other ordinary day, and then the next thing he knows, his secretary rushes in to ask him to turn up the television. startled at the unusual request, he turned the tv on after sensing the urgency in her voice. the default news channel took up the place on the blank screen of the monitor, and yoongi finally saw it.

‘BREAKING NEWS: fourteen-year-old son of reputed lawyer harvey specter was shot by gangmen in broad daylight.’

the reporter went on to broadcast the murder scene, which was painted in blood, and there was even some scripting on the wall where the dead boy lay in his pool of blood, written in his own blood. before the camera could zoom in, however, yoongi pulled the plug on the electronic device, causing the commotion and other noises in his chamber to die down within seconds.

yoongi refuses to watch the scene, just like he had refused to visit the accident site of his parents. his secretary left shortly to give him space as yoongi sat down on his chair, with a visibly dishevelled look marring over his features.

around fifteen minutes later, yoongi finally picked himself up again. mind you, he had no sentiment attached to the specter boy, hell he does not even know the boy’s name, but just because he does not care about someone does not automatically imply that he wishes death upon them. plus, he has worked with harvey for the past five years. they make quite the intimidating duo, and harvey has always been there for him whenever he needed it. now that it is on yoongi’s shoulder, he does not know how to be there for him. how do you console someone who had his teenage child murdered in broad daylight? hell, he does not even know about harvey’s whereabouts or what is exactly happening in the real world outside. he reached inside for his packet of cigarettes to bring one out, but his eyes took note of the way his hands shook. his gaze bore holes on the back of his shaking hand. this is precisely like five years ago all over again. he is just sitting in his chamber, locked behind a stack of files when other people could really use his help, or at least really appreciate if he can just be there for them, but here he is, locked away in a high-security prison of his own thoughts.

he is not exactly sure why he is dialling your number, but your name is what his phone is displaying on the screen. it rang and rang and rang, and there was no answer from the other side. wait a second, are you alright? are you in danger?

worried, next he dialled the number of his housekeeper who kindly informed him that you had gone out. well then, why are you not taking his calls? this is the fifth time he is calling, and if you do not pick up now, he will be filing a missing person report at once. luckily, you picked up just in time. yoongi meant to ask you where you are and why exactly it took you so long to pick up his calls, but the babbling of children in the background caused his words to get caught up in his throat and slowly die down.

“what is that?”

“what? yoongi, you mean ‘who’, and it’s just hyuk and moon playing.”

“where are you?”

“remember i told you that dany had called us over.”

“and she is?”

“mr jung’s wife.”

“right.”

“are you okay? you sound off.”

“mm,” yoongi hummed before cutting the call. he knows you are safe and having fun, so he should probably tell you the news later. he is not one to rain on someone’s parade.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

unable to stay cooped up in his chamber, yoongi came back home, but you were not home yet. although he had missed breakfast when he left for work, he refused to eat a morsel overlooking juyun’s persuasive talks about health and all that yada yada yada.

it is weird because yoongi is feeling exactly like he felt when he received the news of his parent’s accident. he feels helpless. he feels like a coward for being so weak and incapable of doing anything worthwhile to not put anyone’s life in danger. the specter boy did not die because of his direct actions, but it is related to their work. in this world, you always piss someone off, and there is always someone waiting to watch you suffer.

this is probably related to the yakuza clients of the firm. around seven months ago, there was a gang war between the yakuza and some local korean gangs, and specter and yoongi had been able to get their clients free of charges. while the leader of the korean gang got convicted on two counts of murder. on the day the judgement was pronounced, the other members of the korean gang had openly threatened specter. it was even aired on television as the brawl took place right outside the courtroom in front of a fleet of paparazzi.

yoongi and probably the rest of the world already know who is responsible for the death of the specter boy but what about it now? putting them behind bars would not bring the innocent child back. it would not make it hurt any less to the child’s parents. a life is lost, and nothing can get it back. justice is hardly a substitute for this deep a hurt.

a life for a life does not work either as have been tried and tested by yoongi – he got his parents’ murderer killed, but it did not bring him even one iota of ease. he still felt guilty, even more so because he dirtied his hands to get someone killed but most importantly, it did not bring back his parents. his childhood home was still empty, his parents' room covered in dust and spider webs.

yoongi was onto his fourth glass of whiskey when you walked in the bedroom after coming back from your short get together.

“hey,” you smiled, but it turned upside down on noticing the thick smog of smoke enveloping the room. it reeked of alcohol and burnt out cigarettes.

yoongi turned his gaze to you and nodded before turning his head back to the fireplace in front of the couch set. the flames from the logs burned in the blacks of his irises, “had fun?”

“yeah, it was nice. the kids are so sweet,” you replied while emptying your bag and came across a baby sock of hyuk. it must have accidentally fallen in your bag, “oh my god. look at this, isn’t it adorable!!” you grinned, taking the cute little sock to yoongi’s figure.

“what is it?” yoongi’s gaze did not falter from watching the show put up by the blazing flames.

“hyuk’s sock!! it’s so small, so adorable, just like his cute little baby feet,” you advanced the sock towards yoongi.

yoongi kept his glass away before taking the piece of fabric in his hands. it smelt like baby powder, baby formula, and everything baby. it was baby yellow in colour and extremely small like you had been gushing about. your husband let a sigh, his fingers feeling the fabric before he threw it in the fireplace.

“wha-what the fuck!” you yelled before pulling out the burning sock by grabbing it at the edge with your nails. you can be blindly impulsive at times.

“why the fuck would you do that?!” you yelled again, grabbing some ice cubes from the ice bucket to cool down your semi-burned finger.

yoongi finally turned his gaze away from the flames and looked you dead in the eyes, “we will never have kids.”

“huh?”

“don’t huh me. you were getting there with all the gushing and baby handling, so get this drilled through your thick skull – you and i will never have kids.”

“what is the meaning of all this? are you drunk?”

“certainly not enough,” he refilled his glass again, emptying more than half the canister, “next time you go out, let me know in advance and always have the driver accompany you.”

“yoongi, what is happening? why are you talking like this?”

“leave me alone,” he gritted his teeth.

you tried to approach him, but he dismissed you with a show of hand, “just leave. and i should never hear baby talk around this house ever again.”

confused, humiliated, and feeling somewhat afraid by his erratic behaviour, you walked away wordlessly.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

a week passed by without a word from yoongi. he refused to look you in the eye or lay in the same bed as you. although you felt like the one intruding, he never asked you to leave the room and instead slept in the guest room himself. you did not see much of him either. he would return from work in the wee hours of the night and then leave early in the morning. when he was home, he would keep himself locked in his study. typically, you would at least be able to hear his voice while he is talking to some junior or client through the phone, but in the past week, you did not even hear a sigh leaving his lips. the house had gone into a permanent state of silence, filled only by your soft sighs, mutterings and short conversations between juyun and yourself. visitors have never known the min house to be home, so there is not another life around other than yours, yoongi’s, juyun’s and the driver’s.

bored out of your mind, you finally decided to go out for some fresh air. you have never been much of a homebody. owing to having part-time jobs since fifteen, you are pretty much accustomed to going out and spending your day outdoors. it feels nice, the sun on your face, and its rays always rejuvenate your energy. staying indoors is a far difficult task for you than you thought it would be. and to top it off, yoongi is not talking to you.

you were changing to some beige shorts paired with a cute top when the doorbell went off. juyun usually answers the door, so you were not bothered by the bell and went on to inserting the belt strap through the hoops when the bell went off again. odd, juyun never slacks off. she must be using the facilities or is extremely busy dealing with something else. fastening the belt, you walked downstairs and opened the door just as the bell went off for the third time.

“yes?”

“is mr min home?” a bald guy stood on the other side of the door, dressed in a white tank and a black leather jacket. you could tell he had a tattooed arm, and there were smaller tattoos on his face as well. he had a rough exterior but also had a classy aura around him. he looked like a man who held a lot of power and was in a respectable position. certainly not someone to mess with.

“no, he is at court.”

the man nodded and turned his back to leave but turned again with a fake smile, “can i bother you for a glass of water?”

you debated internally about letting a dangerous-looking man in, but he knew yoongi and looked like a wealthy client, so there was probably not much to worry about.

wrong.

reluctantly nodding, you let space for the man to enter, who sauntered in and sat down on the couch without a care in the world. you walked to the kitchen but still did not notice juyun anywhere around. sighing, you brought out a tumbler from one of the cabinets and poured water in it.

upon walking out with the glass of water, you saw the man now sitting with his phone in his hand, “here.”

“thank you, miss,” the man smiled before taking the glass of water and finishing the contents of it in one gulp, “i talked to mr min. he said he was on his way home.”

“oh? alright then, please make yourself comfortable,” you mumbled before leaving the living hall space to escape to the bedroom – not wanting to be in the presence of the man anymore.

yoongi was in his car, headed from the court to his office, when his phone dinged with a new mail. he did not want to check it but saw that it was from the yakuza boss. upon opening it, yoongi’s eyes went wide to the very brim when he noticed what he was staring at. the mail had a video attached to it – the camera lens was pointed downwards, but yoongi can clearly make out your bare legs walking into the living room from the direction of the kitchen and handing something to the boss, who thanked you for it in return. what the fuck is that guy doing at his place? why the fuck did you let him in?

yoongi did not waste a minute before directing his driver to take him home at once.

“is it urgent, sir? there is some traffic jam on the 46th,” the driver asked.

“just take a u-turn and take the flyover.”

“well, you are the lawman, sir,” the driver nodded before taking a sharp u-turn on the one-way and taking the flyover, which took yoongi home within seven minutes.

he walked out of the car in haste while it was still slowing down on the porch and directly headed towards the door before smashing the doorbell.

you answered the door again to see your husband boiling in anger. if only looks could kill. yoongi walked past you and addressed the yakuza boss.

“my driver will take you to my office. i will meet you there.”

“fine thought we could just talk here like old times,” the man shrugged before standing up.

“at the moment, that won’t be possible,” yoongi gritted out.

the man smirked a little before leaving the two of you alone.

“what were you fucking thinking? why did you let that asshole in!” yoongi’s yell boomed inside the empty confines of the house, the sound echoing off the walls.

“who is he?”

“he runs the biggest mafia organization in incheon. that’s who he is. where is juyun?”

“i don’t know. she did not answer the door, so i did. he told me that he had talked to you, and you had asked him to wait at here.”

“well, he fucking lied!”

“why are you angry at me? what should i have done instead? refuse him? i could clearly see his gun sticking out from under his jacket!”

yoongi groaned in frustration this time because you were right. these people do not precisely have a morality meter and could have easily hurt you if you had not extended the hospitality, “you are such a fucking liability. five years i have been a defence lawyer with zero issues, and the moment you walked into my life, you have been nothing but a liability.”

“stop calling me that! i am a human,” you rebutted, equally angry.

“shut the fuck up,” he turned around, looking for juyun and yelled for her. by the second time, she finally came out in a soiled apron filled with dust.

“yes, mr min? i was cleaning in the outhouse.”

“why did you leave her alone?” yoongi spoke in the same loud, angered tone.

“i-i am sorry, but what happened?”

“next time you leave her alone, i will fucking fire your incompetent ass.”

you flinched at his tone. he was being unreasonably mean and talking very rudely to the old lady, “please, don’t scold her for my mistakes.”

“shut up, y/n. i don’t want to hear a word from you. i have heard enough all these months, and i have done my best to accommodate you in this new life, but i am done now. i am done fixing every havoc you wreck in my life,” yoongi turned to you after dismissing juyun, who scurried to her feet and left you both alone immediately.

“what are you on about? i have never intruded in your work life or any life for the matter. i stay in this house like a piece of furniture and just keep to myself.”

“well, that’s too bad because from now on, you ain’t stepping a foot outside without juyun, the driver or me accompanying you.”

“but that way, i won’t have my freedom at all!”

“little one, probably the most oppressive lie ever uttered was the song of freedom. for nearly every living thing, choice breeds shame and uncertainty and regret. there’s a fork in every road, yet the wrong path is always taken.”

“i had warned you beforehand that you would regret marrying me, and yet here we are. you cannot just imprison me like this yoongi!”

“do you really want to test me? are you sure?” yoongi growled and advanced towards you.

his chest almost met yours when you suddenly felt a burning sensation and took a step back with a yelp, “ouch, what the hell?”

yoongi stared at your hand. it had a burn mark from his lit up cigarette in his hand, which must have accidentally brushed and touched the back of your hand.

“see, you are nothing but a liability.”

“and you are a fucking asshole,” you whimpered and rushed to the guest room to lock yourself in.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

that was the last you saw of yoongi for an entire month and a half. for six whole weeks, your husband ignored you, strayed away from you and downright avoided you – a part of it came from his guilt for unintentionally hurting you.

at night, when he comes back after a rough day at work, he unceremoniously barges in the guest room where you have chosen to reside these days, and he just lays down beside you – holding you snuggly in his arms and falls asleep in his work clothes, reeking of cigarettes and bourbon. you lay there perfectly still, aware of his every movement, woken by his crass door-opening. you allow him to hold you to sleep, but in exchange, you sacrifice your own sleep as the overwhelming smell blinds your senses. however, you have come to enjoy these times as it feels nice to be held – he could have gone to any woman he wants – he is rich, handsome, successful. clearly, in an unhappy relationship with his wife and yet, at the end of the day, he comes to the same wife — not to talk to her but to hold her close.

you are often left confused between feeling patronized or relaxed under his touch, but there are not many things left to enjoy, so you enjoy this embrace he gives you. his soft snores are rhythmic. midway through the night, he often pulls up his leg on top of yours and crushes you under his weight – your face in the pillow. you just sigh, close your eyes and rest.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

the quiet and silence were not for naught. it was the calm before the storm, and boy did the cloud burst on your head with the loudest bang.

towards the start of the seventh week, you received your father’s ashes. he wanted his ashes to be distributed on han river – his favourite picnic spot for a still middle schooler you. he would make those cute little bento boxes with the adorable designs, and the pair of you would enjoy them by the shore.

you decided to not waste time and distribute the ashes on the very day. however, the flaw in your plan was what your husband had ruled for you. you are not allowed to step outside the threshold without juyun or the driver accompanying you, but this is something personal. you wanted to be alone for this one and hence decided to sneak out.

isn’t it amazing when your plans just bust open and come to bite you in the ass? well, it did not take a long time for your sneaky plans to come bite you in the ass. juyun found out that you were missing from the house after the courier with your father’s ashes arrived. like a loyal servant, she immediately informed her master, who was very displeased to learn of the unsavoury news. what are you trying to do? trying to get killed? yoongi is desperately trying to keep you safe, keep you from getting killed just like everyone he cares about, but you cannot clap with one hand – he needs you to cooperate with him as well. living in luxury, catered to by servants and enjoying the best life in exchange for freedom – what is the problem with that? he earns in millions and has put every luxury at your feet, yet you choose to defy him when he is just trying to keep you safe. how difficult is that to understand? yoongi has no choice left but to take the matter into his hands – like always.

one phone call to your favourite detective jeongguk, and yoongi had your location by tracking your cell. if you are going to defy his express concerns and sneak out, then at least make it difficult for him to find you.

naïve.

han river is a mere twenty-minute drive from his office, and lo and behold, twenty minutes passed, and his driver parked the car outside hangang park. yoongi sauntered in, and within a few minutes, he was able to locate you among the sea of visitors as you stood by the shore barefoot. the hem of your dress flowed with the soft breeze from the river. you were staring out in the distance, the urn held securely in your hand as the peaceful ebb and flow of the waves crashed against your feet, immersing your ankles.

he admired the view but snapped himself out of it – this is not the time to be basking in your beauty. you have willingly put your life in danger, and for what? to distribute your dead father’s ashes? anyone could have done that! you could have just asked the driver. getting angrier and angrier with the intruding thoughts, yoongi marched right over to where you stood and grabbed you by the elbow.

it caught you off-guard, and you almost dropped the urn but regained your stability and turned to fight back the assaulter only to face your husband. oh fuck, here comes the angry stare and the unkind words. well, that is all he usually does, so you are not too scared of the outcome now that you have been caught. and let me tell you, you have never been more wrong in your life.

“i told you not to go out alone!” yoongi’s grip around your elbow only tightened as he came closer to your figure.

“yoongi, this is between my father and i. couldn’t just bring someone else for such an intimate see-off. i have to do this alone. please try to understand my plight.”

“oh yeah? your dead father wanted his ashes distributed? fine! i’ll be a good son-in-law and do it,” yoongi proceeded to snatch the urn from your hands – uncapping it and emptied the contents on the sand away from the shoreline – near the area where the river wave was not strong enough to drown it out with it, “there. it’s done. let’s go.”

you watched him frozen. your limbs fell cold as the blood circulation slowed down, much like your breathing had. you are not sure if you felt anger, remorse, regret, disdain, shock, and many other emotions and honestly struggled on how to react to this blasphemy. you tried to get away from his grip, but he dragged you towards the exit. you saw people watching you being carried away. they just assumed that it was none of their business and did not even bother butting in to help you or even to make sure if you were okay – if you were being taken away against your will but guess the world just revolves around the rich men. as long as it is a rich man, in a fine suit doing it, they can get away with just about anything and the world will not bat an eyelash.

tears rolled down your face as yoongi shoved you in the backseat of the car, slamming the door shut behind you. soon after, he got in as well through the other door.

“did you think i was joking when i told you, explicitly, to not leave the house without company? do you have any fucking idea how dangerous it is outside? they killed specter’s son, and they will kill you if that pleases them. stop flaunting yourself around like you are no one. you are mrs min yoongi – the wife of a defence lawyer. do you have any fucking idea how many goddamn enemies i have?! everything is a joke to your pretty little head, isn’t it?” he jerked you once to get a response out of you, but you kept crying, refusing to even look at him.

enraged, yoongi grabbed your chin in a tight grip and turned your gaze towards him, “cat got your tongue?”

after all your attempts to get away from him failed, you gave up and looked him right in the eyes, “how could you do that? i thought you knew better. haven’t you lost your own parents?”

yoongi’s grip loosened at the mention of his parents. well, isn’t he doing all of this cause of what happened to them? scoffing, he let go your chin and looked away when your gaze did not falter – something in him could not meet your eyes. what was he becoming? he would like to call himself paranoid, but that does not even cut half of it, not when people are really out there to hurt them.

upon reaching home, you ran straight towards the guest room, completely ignoring juyun, who asked in a worried tone why you were crying.

you locked yourself in and cried to your heart’s content. all you wanted, the only thing you wanted was to keep your father’s last wish, and it got taken from you like your will means nothing to anyone. you just want to mean something to someone, the last person to whom you meant anything is dead and just got his ashes emptied on the sand, on fucking sand where the water does not even reach over to drown it away.

it must have been hours till yoongi came to you. although you take the unnecessary care to lock the room, he walks right in with his keys.

“stop crying,” his voice had mellowed out and held a tinge of remorse. you kept crying, not paying any mind till you felt the delve of the bed behind you and tried to get away from him when he sat down, but he pulled you right back and had you sit down on his lap.

“let go of me!” you yelled in anger, your shriek booming in the confines of the walls, but yoongi did not loosen his grip. he held you down till you stopped resisting his hold, till you stopped resisting his presence in the same room as you, till you stopped resisting him.

“i am sorry little one. i am really so-”

you cut him right off. he had no right to speak after the stunt he just pulled, “i lied to my father when he was dying, yoongi. i lied to him till his last breath, i lied to him about every single happening in my life, and now you just took away that last chance i had to do anything right by him! one thing, one last single fucking thing i had, and you took it away because what? because you are paranoid!?!?! why do you even care if i drop dead someday? i sure do hope i do, so i don’t have to be imprisoned by you anymore!” you blurted it all in one breath, even though you knew he would get angry – it just did not matter anymore. you have nothing to lose.

“don’t say that, please just don’t say that. fight with me all you want but don’t say that. i am doing everything in my ability to keep you safe, to keep you from their reach so they cannot hurt you. i have grown fond of you, y/n, i think i might be in love with you, but above all that, i just wish to protect you. i don’t expect you to love me back, but please, don’t wish for that. i can-can’t lose one more person from my life.”

and that is probably the only time you have ever heard your husband’s voice falter than his usual nonchalant and casual one.

it would have been different in other circumstances. at the moment, it did not matter what he said. it was all the same to you – sweet nothings.

“good for you ‘cause i will never love you back, min yoongi.”

yoongi’s hold on you loosened at those words, which really drove a wedge through his heart – he accepts it. he has hurt you beyond words, but he can live with it. he can live with just watching you living and breathing in the safety of his house and his arms. he has survived all these years without the love of a partner, so what are another few decades?

he kept holding you for the rest of the night, securely in his lap, and you just sat there – exhausted from crying, from fighting him and his irrational ideologies – he could do whatever he wanted to you for all you cared, but he just held you.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

“eonnie, i am very sick. can you please get me some aspirin? i have a nasty migraine attack,” rei spoke through the phone when you picked her call one fine summer afternoon in may.

“can’t jimin get it for you?” you asked as you did not want to break the rules again. since the whole incident with your father’s ashes, you have not stepped foot outside this house – out of pure hatred and pettiness more than anger. life has somewhat returned to how it used to be, some nights would end in (consensual) sex, but all nights would definitely end in snuggles and cuddles. you never reciprocated his actions and let him do whatever he wanted – he was bound to be bored by a rag-doll.

“he is gone to the states for some dance competition,” rei replied with a blocked nasally tone.

“can you try and order online, maybe?” you really wished to avoid going out, but you felt guilty for refusing as well.

“i tried, but it would take more than two hours because the app says that none of the deliverymen are in my area. eonnie, please, jimin-ssi has been gone for a week. it would be nice if i get to see someone for a change.”

you let a deep sigh. well, it would be nice if you also could see someone other than your husband and maid for a change, “alright. i will come over but only to drop off the meds, i won’t stay for long.”

“works for me! you’re the best!!” rei gushed before cutting the call.

a small smile appeared on your face after what felt like weeks on hearing rei’s voice and her childish shenanigans. after a quick shower, you got dressed and headed downstairs to find juyun. since obviously you cannot go alone, might as well take your alleged bodyguard with you. upon entering the kitchen, however, all you found was a note stuck to the refrigerator.

“i will be gone to get the monthly groceries. i will be back around 6pm.”

the clock on the kitchen wall showed that it was only around four. you were left with no option but to go out alone as the driver was gone with yoongi. sighing, you set out alone after locking the doors. it would take a total of forty-five minutes to rei’s house and back home, five minutes to buy the aspirin from some pharmacy on the way and maybe a ten minutes talk with rei, and still, you would be back before juyun. finalising your plan, you took a cab and headed to rei’s place.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

around fifteen minutes past five, you left rei’s place even though she begged you to stay a while longer, wanting to hang out more with you, and although it broke your heart to refuse her so sternly, you had to. it took you twenty minutes to get back home, and you walked in unsuspecting till you noticed juyun and yoongi standing in the living room staring as you walked in.

“h-hi?” you exhaled sharply.

yoongi came back earlier because he wanted to take you out for a night out, whereas juyun had finished shopping and came back by five. she usually finishes all her work before the set-out time, so this was everyday routine work for her.

it is just the absolute worst day of your life though, why did yoongi think of taking you out on this particular day? why is juyun so prompt and diligent? can fate cut you any slack at all?

“where were you gone?” yoongi crossed his arms over his chest.

“to um, rei’s. she’s sick, and her husband is away. she needed me.”

“right. wonder if she will still need you when you are lying by the street in a pool of your blood with a bullet wound in your forehead.”

you rolled your eyes at the clearly exaggerated paranoid thought, “you are overexaggerating.”

“i-? i am the one who is overexaggerating? wow. the fucking nerve you have! and here i was, leaving back work to take you out thinking you would be so bored at home.”

“just because you thought to do one single decent act for me does not mean you own my freedom, as well. i can go anywhere i wish to. it's a free world.”

“right. it’s a free world, and that applies for the criminals too.”

“you can’t always shield me, yoongi. this is madness!”

“spare me your moral pep talks. and that rei? i am going to fire that bitch.”

“hey, don’t talk about her like that!” you raised your voice at the sudden provocation, “i am all she has, and lately, the vice versa also stands very much true.”

juyun watched from the background as the two of you fought back and forth. she clearly would not want to be a party to her employer’s personal matters, but yoongi had asked her to stay back, so she is standing her ground.

yoongi chuckled at your words, “oh yeah? she is your only family? because of what, this stupid picture that she gave you?” he pointed at the picture frame mounted over the living room fireplace before walking over to it and grabbing it.

“it might be just a frame, but a rich snob like you will never understand the sentimental value of it,” you were in no mood to bite down today, which was clearly evident from your passive-aggressive words.

“really? fine, then what’s the point of keeping it in MY house when i am an unemotional asshole,” he broke upon the glass of the frame by smashing it against the wooden frame of the fireplace and brought out the picture. with his free hand, he retrieved the lighter from his trouser pocket.

“n-no no-no, don’t do that, please,” compared to your earlier harsh tone, your voice now come out as a feeble plea.

“oh, little one, you have no idea what all i can do and more,” yoongi grinned before flicking the lighter open. he placed one of the pointy edges of the picture on the flame, and the material went up in flames faster than your reaction speed.

by the time you walked to him and snatched the burning picture from him, the fire had engulfed most of it, and your fingers let go of the charred end that was left of it, only to let the fire turn the entirety of it to ashes.

“wh-why! why are you doing this! i was good! i listened to you and kept my word.”

“clearly, you were not good enough,” yoongi turned to juyun, “get that gift i had prepared for your mistress.”

juyun nodded slowly, unsure what her employer was planning and went inside to retrieve a gift-wrapped box. yoongi got a hold of it and brought out a white wedding dress from the box.

“where did you get that?” you tried to take the dress from his hand upon recognizing that it was your mother’s treasured wedding dress.

“juyun found it one day while she was cleaning. i saw that it had some tears, so i had it restored to exactly how it was. i wanted to surprise you, but hey, it’s not like you ever want my love, right?”

and the next thing you know, your mother’s beautiful dress was up in flames. dumped on the floor, the flame engulfed inch by inch of the luscious fabric. you tried to get a hold of it in an unsuccessful yet desperate plea to save it from the fire, but you were only hurting yourself. juyun held you back while you kept thrashing against her. voiceless cries and whimpers left your throat as tears blurred your vision.

“dear, please get a hold of yourself. you know master min loves you and only wants the best of you,” juyun wiped your tears after you calmed down by her side and had slid down to a kneeling position on the floor.

you pushed her hands away, “how can you say that! how dare you even think that he loves me and cares for me after seeing what he did with your own two eyes! what kind of love is this?”

“shh,” the kind maid finished wiping your tears and tucked your awry hair behind, “go to him.”

“for what? so he can hurt me more?” your eyes fixated on the third-degree burns on your palms and fingers. they weren’t many, but they were proof of just what he did.

“just let me take care of this mess and go to him, alright?” juyun walked you to yoongi’s bedroom before ushering you in and closing the door gently behind you. a minor quarrel is usual between husband and wife, and talking can solve a lot of things, at least that is what juyun is hoping for cause what she witnessed first-hand has really shaken her, too.

you kept standing near the doorstep, your head hung low. just when you had thought that you had nothing left to lose, you lost even more things – things you never feared you would lose, and the way you lost them really opened gates to another level of emotional trauma.

“strip,” came yoongi’s voice after what felt like an eternity of just standing there with tears dripping down on the carpet. he finished the cigarette he was smoking and smashed it in the ashtray kept on the nightstand.

you looked up at him in disbelief – you were also surprised that you could feel any emotion at all after the preceding traumatizing turn of events, “what?”

“i asked you to strip, which you heard correctly the very first time,” yoongi was still angry from the act of defiance and wanted to punish you more but could not think of how. he did ask you to strip but, in his mind, it was all blank – he would never put a hand on your dignity without consent. still, a part of him revelled in that terrorised look in your eyes.

“no,” you shook your head and took a step back when yoongi stood up at your defiant answer. your back came in contact with the closed-door as yoongi stood right in front of you.

“you are not making this any easier,” he brought a finger to your figure, tracing your arms.

you shivered from the touch out of disgust and complied wordlessly. you don’t think you have anything left to lose, but you cannot take a chance, not anymore.

content by your actions, yoongi walked back to resume his seat on the bed and watched with hawk eyes as you stripped off your clothes.

his hard exterior tore apart as each piece of clothing came off. he cannot do this. not to you or any human being. you stood in your lingerie, hugging yourself in shame and fear.

yoongi felt bile rising up to his throat at sight – what is he doing?

“c’mere,” he patted his lap with a frown. he is supposed to protect you. why is he hurting you? this is not supposed to happen.

reluctantly, you walked to him before sitting on his lap but not letting your guard down.

he put his work blazer over your shoulders before snaking his arms around your waist, but they never strayed towards your intimate region. his hold was secure around your waist, and his head came to rest against your back, “little one, don’t defy me like this. believe me when i say i know better and only want the best for you. please, forgive me for hurting you. it is never my intention. i am so so so sorry.”

and there we go, we have come a complete never-ending circle finished off by his sweet nothings.

July, 2021:

valentina walked in with a cup of coffee to your room, “here, you go, miss. what you reading there?”

you looked up from your book, “shakespeare’s king lear,” you smiled, taking the cup of coffee, “thank you.”

“is it a love story about some king?” she smiled enthusiastically.

“not really. it’s a tragedy about a king who relinquishes his power and land to his two daughters and then becomes destitute.”

valentina’s smile vanished, “oh… you read a lot of tragedies.”

“mhm, now that you mentioned it, i do that. guess we look comfort from our real-life in storybooks,” you shrugged, taking a sip of the coffee.

“but you live in such a huge mansion with such a handsome husband, you don’t have to lift a finger, and every work around the house gets done routinel-” she stopped upon noticing the quirked eyebrow on your forehead as you watched her talk, she might be crossing some lines, “i am sorry, i just don’t see the tragedy.”

“it’s poetic,” you sighed on noting that she was still confused, “don’t think much about it. i am just a pessimistic person.”

“oh no, ma’am, i meant no disrespect!”

you nodded and went back to your book, prompting valentina to take her leave, as well.

valentina is the newest addition to the min house staff, and she was hired personally by yoongi because he claimed that you needed a friend, someone your age in whom you could confide in and feel comfortable around. ironic how he pretends that he actually cares or gives a shit. you have not stepped foot outside by yourself since the day yoongi burned your mother’s dress along with the picture that rei had gifted you. you go out with juyun when and absolutely required. other times, you refuse any chance to go out and choose to stay in. you do not want to set off that arsonist maniac anymore. you have had enough of his rough handling your life like a piece of paper that he gets to crumple and straighten out whenever he feels like it.

valentina is one chirpy bird. she is always so happy even if you ask her to do some extra work. she does everything in her capacity to get you talking or even going out with her as instructed by your husband, but you know better. you know that behind those honey-laced words and batting eyelashes lay a pair of greedy eyes that are eyeing up your position as the mistress of this house.

the way she subtly flirts with yoongi is so evident to you. although you have yet to find it in you to be jealous, what annoys you is how oblivious yoongi is to her shenanigans. juyun too, who is usually very strict about the household chores and always scolds valentina if she misses a spot, gladly turns a blind eye to her shameless flirting. makes you wonder how maybe yoongi’s staff do not really approve of you as his wife because you are not affectionate towards him. well, how can you possibly be? you can never fall for a person like that. it’s beyond your wildest imaginations – he can speak his sweet nothings about love and safety all he wants, but you are not going to fall for that.

for all you care, yoongi can go ahead and cheat on you. the contract you had signed on the day of marriage did not have it written anywhere that you have to love him. it just had been a means to buy your testimony, and it has fulfilled that purpose well. if he cheats on you, maybe you can bring that up as a ground for divorce. although taking the help of law against a lawyer is a losing situation, but, might as well try it out.

that is precisely how you found yourself outside of yoongi’s study late at night. you had fallen asleep but woke up to the sound of something falling on the kitchen floor. you came downstairs to check the ruckus and saw valentina making a cup of black coffee. only yoongi drinks black coffee in the household, but what was she doing here? both juyun and valentina are supposed to leave the household premises by nightfall, and yet at half-past twelve, you see the conniving little bitch in your kitchen brewing coffee for your asshole husband. maybe they are sneaking out behind your back, after all.

fine, all you have to do is catch them in the act.

you watched from the shadows as valentina finished the coffee and walked towards yoongi’s study, where he was cooped up working on a high-profile case. there was a particular sway in valentina’s hips tonight that did not escape your hawk eyes. rolling your eyes, you followed her and watched her walk in after she knocked. yoongi must have been too engrossed in his files to just blindly give permission so late at night, or he might have thought it was you. wait, why are you making excuses for him already? you are here to catch him red-handed.

you walked to the door and pushed it slightly to let a crack at the door through which you could see them.

“yes, little on-” yoongi turned up from his files and looked visibly confused on noticing that it’s not you but his new maid. what was her name, again? yeah, valentina. right, “what are you doing here? you are not supposed to be in the main house after nightfall.”

“yes, i know you work nights, so i thought of making you some coffee since miss goes to sleep,” valentina smiled, advancing the coffee towards him.

“did she ask you to be here?”

“miss? no-no! she does not even know i am here. i don’t think she cares enough.”

“excuse me? what did you just say?” it did not take more than seconds for yoongi’s expressions to turn into a scowl.

‘you are one good actor, min yoongi. as if you care if someone speaks bad behind my back,’ you thought, watching the scene unfold.

valentina walked to his side, placing her hand carefully on his arm, “you work so hard, but miss never looks after you. i can look after you, mr min, i will take good care of you!”

yoongi slapped her hand away, “what are you on about!”

“she wants to fuck you, asshole,” frustrated by his obliviousness, you exclaimed out too loudly. oh fuck.

“y/n?” yoongi called.

“ugh,” groaning, you walked in, “can’t you see it? she is flirting with you. she wants to be the next mrs. min,” you crossed your arms.

“next? but i already have a mrs min,” yoongi’s scowl turned to a smirk, he has dearly missed this feisty side of yours.

“divorce me and live happily with her. like she said, she will take good care of you. right, miss valentina?” you gritted, turning your head towards valentina.

the new maid, who was a couple of years older than you, cowered in fear under your judgmental gaze, “miss, i am sorry, please.”

“god, you look so fucking hot right now,” yoongi smacked his lips.

your eyes went wide at the vile words, is he seriously flirting with the maid right in front of you! “are you for real right no-” you turned to him, ready to tear him a new one, but your words died in your throat when you noticed that his gaze was only fixated on you. he was calling you hot, “-oh.”

you started playing with your fingers again, as has been your habit whenever you get nervous or shy. the blush on your cheeks was unmistakable, and yoongi could clearly feel the heat they radiated.

he grabbed your hand, pulling you towards him, “is little one blushing for me?”

“n-no!” you huffed as yoongi placed you right in front of him, between his legs. you both stood behind the oak table whereas valentina was by the door, looking for a chance to leave the mess she had caused.

yoongi let a soft chuckle watching you getting flustered. he guided your hips to sit upon the edge of the table, “you,” he turned to valentina, who had just opened the door to walk out, “close that door and don’t you dare leave.”

and it was at that moment, valentina realized that she had fucked up royally.

yoongi turned his undivided attention back to you, “my feisty little wife, were you jealous?”

you made a disgusted face at that, “not even by a bit. why should i be jealous?”

“is that so? so you would be totally fine if i cheated on you?” yoongi pulled up your t-shirt, and you wordlessly raised your arms to facilitate the motion.

“i dare you to try and cheat me,” you grabbed his collar, pulling him close to you.

yoongi grinned, “thought you wanted to divorce me.”

“i will find other grounds, but i refuse to be disrespected like that,” cupping his face, you kissed him, probably the first time in months. although the two of you have sex on and off, you deny him any kisses from you. it was supposed to be some punishment, but to hell with all that. your husband did not miss a beat to kiss you right back.

valentina, on the other hand, watched with wide eyes as the scene unfolded in front of her.

yoongi’s hands are always very skilful when it comes to taking your clothes off, his hands always know how to unhook your bra, and he rarely has to worry about panties because you never wear them to bed, and tonight, as well you did not. he yanked the shorts off you.

given the positioning of the table, valentina could not see you naked. only your back was to her.

yoongi leaned down to his knees and situated his head between your thighs, the intimate smell from your sex greeting his senses. his thumb massaged the outer walls slowly while his index finger aided to push your walls wide open. the hot craven calling to yoongi like the sound of a siren. he licked his lips once before delving in and doing what he does best – having you by the toes with his tongue. you gasped at the sensation of his tongue between your lush walls. your hand grabbed onto one of your breasts, squeezing it in an attempt to muffle down your cries. you refuse to give him the satisfaction — that his tongue always sends you on the edge from the very start. for instance, he has barely started, yet you are already wet, your arousal coating yoongi’s tongue like a forbidden elixir. you equipped your free hand to keep you stable on the table as it gripped the edge tightly, your nails scratching the expensive wood polish.

“you never learn,” yoongi tsk’ed when he felt you trying to close your legs together.

“guess, i never do,” you mumbled, raising one of your legs up to now rest over his shoulder blade. who is this new confident y/n?

“that’s more like it,” the devil’s advocate grinned his gummy smile before resuming his rightful position between your walls. his tongue reaching up at an angle while his fingers pumped inside you smoothly, aided by your generous lubrication. his fingers bent upwards and thrummed against the upper wall with the force that had your toes curling up.

“fuck-” you moaned loud enough for your voice to reverberate in the room, your hand now grabbing onto his hair for support.

yoongi alternated between sucking on your hollow walls to pumping his fingers at a supersonic speed. the closer he got to your orgasm, the more lubrication your sex created. he was ready to taste your cum, he was eager and excited even, but you pulled his head away.

“i want your dick,” you leaned down to kiss him.

“you will get it. have some patience, little one,” he said in between the kiss. his tongue, dutifully, transferring your taste to your very tongue.

“now! i can’t wait,” your fingers brought out his semi-hard dick from underneath his underwear and started pumping it – from the base to the tip with the same fervour that yoongi had shown you.

“whoa, someone is eager to get dicked down,” he chuckled, letting you work around his length.

“maybe because you don’t dick me down enough,” you shrugged and collected a ball of spit before dropping it on the bulbous tip.

yoongi inhaled sharply at the cold sensation of the saliva, “then maybe you should,” he took hold of his length and gave it a few pumps before entering you, earning a delicious moan from you, “speak up more.”

“never,” your fingers grabbed onto the hair on the back of his head, pulling it backwards to bring his eyes to yours.

“feisty,” he drove his length in, past the initial discomfort, and you felt your body going through physical hiccups at the slow and drawn out thrusts. he was enjoying the view, how enticing you looked, how out of wits miss holmes looked at the feeling of his dick inside her.

halfway through getting railed, you looked behind to check if valentina was watching. the moment you made eye contact with her, you smirked at her and sent a playful wink which had her staring at her feet out of sheer embarrassment and shame.

“thought i would make you come once with my tongue before dicking you down,” yoongi spit at the junction where his dick disappeared into you before collecting it on his thumb to rub circles on your nub.

“mm, we don’t always get what we want. are you afraid you can’t make me cum with your dick?”

the look that he gave you next was one that made you genuinely regret the words that you just spewed as he sped up his thrusts, accompanied with his skilled finger stimulating your sex to no ends. you grew closer to your orgasm, but yoongi had other plans – he pulled away and brought you to your feet to turn you over. his hand on your back traced downwards along your spine and pushed you down on the table – all the while, his dick poking at your inner thigh like a warning. you lowered your upper body on the table and felt yoongi’s hand holding your head down amidst the case files he was working on. your eyes fell on a familiar name, ‘kim seokjin’ and on the second line, you could clearly make out the words ‘innocent of murder charges’. you tried to raise your head up to read more, but yoongi’s hand kept you pinned down while his length impaled you again.

“mm,” you exhaled as the tip felt like it tore through your walls in this position – with your pelvis strictly bent over the edge of the table in a painful position.

you stood corrected as yoongi brought you to your orgasm, all the detective thoughts in your pretty little head getting washed over by the wave of pleasure. he kept holding you, thrusting into you at the same speed to ride out your high and chase his own. you could tell he was closer when his grip on your body loosened up. a few more thrusts in, and yoongi emptied his balls on the small of your back.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

“can you imagine i almost came inside? you always rile me up so well,” yoongi mused after cleaning your back.

“mhm, the no-kids clause. how can i forget,” you offered him a close-lipped smile, putting on his work shirt and buttoning it.

yoongi put on his underwear and wore his trousers. his hand advanced towards you to tuck your hair behind, but you dodged it and walked to valentina, holding the door open.

“i never want to see you again. leave before i drag you out by your hair.”

you did not need to repeat yourself as she made a run for the door to never come back to the min mansion.

after she made her exit, you walked out too, closing the door behind you, but before the doors could close completely, you heard yoongi again.

“by the way, i fired rei today.”

of course, yoongi had other reasons to fire her, which he tactfully did not let you on in.

it only felt like another thing that you did not know you could lose but just did to your paranoid husband.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

a/n: our hon’ble judge marly is none other than my bb @teakwoods-ghost​ !!

feedback is deeply appreciated.✨

masterlist | bangtan masterlist | rules | ask box

- jaimie.

© 𝟫𝟫𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓇𝓈, 𝟐𝟎𝟤𝟣. 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃.

[akysio]

Pet Names

Pairings: Professor!Zeke x Student!Reader Warnings: Implied smut, language, 18+ minors DNI! A/N: Teacher/Student relationship pls don’t read if this sort of stuff makes you uncomfortable!!!! Female pronouns are used in this too

Mr. Yeager (or just Zeke, as he’s not particularly fond of formalities) beckoned you into his class with those perfectly slender fingers of his. His hands that looked baby soft, you’d think they were calloused, veiny. But no, he maintained his perfect, piano-playing fingers for occasions like this; occasions where he gestures his students to his classroom where he’d reprimand them to hell. Not just any students, just the pretty ones.

You were bricking it. He was an exuberant, witty teacher; notable for infrequently losing his temper- but when he did, there’s nothing more terrifying than anticipating a scolding from him. He transforms from a charismatic, positive law professor to a sour, cold and ruthless individual who’s no stranger to humiliating his least favorite students in the class.

“Sir?” You entreat, shuffling into his personal office. Trophies and awards litter the shelves, books are scattered over his desk and set perfectly on the possibly largest private bookshelf you’ve ever seen. The walls are a warm gray brick, and he has a god damn, richly coloured couch in his office. Who the hell needs a couch in their office? And that’s when you remember you’re attending the most pretentious school in Marley and Paradis put together.

You’re just about to observe the fireplace, but you’re interrupted by a smack on the desk, but those perfectly sculpted fingers weren’t the source. It was a giant pile of folders, books, papers, all that jazz that made you cringe at the thought of organising them.

“Oh good, you’re here.” He rolls the sleeves of his pristine, expensive, white shirt up to his forearms. Without his blazer on, you can see the silhouette of his very muscular arms, and presumably a muscular back. “I suppose I’ll get straight to the point.”

He waits for you to nod in acknowledgement, and you hesitantly do so. You know what he’s going to say... You can tell by his tone and movements, how he’s not as playful as he usually is.

“You’re aware that you’re failing my class, right?” He doesn’t wait for you to respond, he knows the answer to that; no. “Yeah, is this a class a joke to you?” His attitude is far too calm for your liking, and you wonder if you’re gonna leave this classroom with a burst eardrum and a black eye. “You’re the only student in my class... that isn’t taking this seriously. Now be my guest to tell me what the fuck is going on, where did we lose the communication?” He’s now leaning on his desk, arms tensing and jawline prominent as he looks up at you.

You can’t help but uncomfortably fidget with your fingers, looking around the room as you think of an excuse to leave this already awkward situation.

“Eyes front,” he speaks up once more, the more he talks the more you find yourself getting pissed off. “I’m the best professor in this college, and you still slack off in my fucking lessons. You know why I’m the best? Because I work hard, I get shit done, I don’t go backwards- I go forwards. People listen to me, work for me and put efforts in my lessons or else- well, or else they’ll end up like you.” You decide to let him lecture you before you speak up, but the more he talks the more he ticks you off and you find it harder to keep yourself together. “Failing, and falling far, far behind. So, what are you gonna do now?” He says in a tauntingly slow manner, he’s trying to get a reaction- you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of giving him a piece of your mind, but you don’t know how long you can hold it in. “Don’t have many options, huh? But I’ve got some, I’ve got a lot. One of them being: I fail you right here, right now. Because sweetheart, the way you act in my lectures shows me that you got no fuckin’ intentions of passing this class. So how about that, huh? I give you the big, fat F? Because I’m done with giving a damn about you-”

“Not my fault that you’re class is the most painstakingly slow, boring atmosphere I’ve ever been in.”

It slipped out, finally.

Instead of reprimanding you some more, he laughs. The motherfucker just laughs, straight in your face. “So you have got a mouth on you, huh? God damn, I thought the other teachers were just fucking with me. I didn’t believe them when they said my fuckin’ favorite girl was running their mouth in their classes.”

“So, you bought me in here to intimidate me, get a reaction out of me and laugh in my face?” You say hotly, expression molded with disgust.

“Not exactly, you’re still failing my class.”

“I don’t give a-” you’re about to give him a piece of your mind, but he swiftly cuts you off.

“Eyes... front.” He berates through gritted teeth, “good girl. Now, sweetheart-”

Now it’s your turn to cut him off, “you won’t get around me with pet names.” You hiss, riding over his charm- as usual. He lifts off from the desk, walking infront of you.

“I can get around you any way I want.” He was approaching abnormally close to you now, too close, too beautiful. Say something, say something, say something! His eyes scanned you from your feet to your face, briefly stopping at your lips for a second. And then, to top it all off; his fingers trace your jawline, up to your chin. He abruptly tilts your face up; those infamous, ocean blue eyes baring into your own. “Cat got your tongue?” He lets out breathy chuckle when you shake your head, desperately trying not to make a wrong move. “Good, because now you’re gonna tell me how you’re gonna get out of failing this class. Because sweetheart-”

It was infuriating how he could get his own way so easily, how he could taunt you without getting a slap because he’s your superior. You glare up to his eyes, to his lips, and back up to his eyes; before you know it, his lips are on yours.

He expected hesitation, but there was none. Instinctively, your arms wrap around his neck and his hands persistently roam your thighs, your waist, your behind. The penalizing force of his lips over yours, the punishing scratch of his beard on your face. He’s edging you to his desk when you hear a sound outside. Your fight or flight kicks in, and instantly you try to escape out of the room, but his grip on your waist is far too strong.

“What?” He asks, like the cocky bastard he is.

“We can’t do this- what, what if someone finds out?” If you weren’t so shaken up, drunk on his kiss then you would have chastised yourself for sounding so stereotypical and predictable.

He looked confused. “You can’t ignore what’s going on with us. Let me take what I want...” An attempt of persuasion. It wouldn’t have worked; but his hot breath on your neck, the tantalizingly seductive last words had you at ‘let me’, because realistically you’re like putty in his hands and you’d let Zeke do anything to you.

“What is it that you want?” You dared to ask.

“I want you to pass my class.” Oh, disappointment.

He’s waiting for you to react again, but you’re struck dumb. He thinks he’s slick with his words, but his expressions give away his thought patterns- as egocentric as a child. From the small smirk that he struggles to hide, you know he has something up his sleeve.

“But the only way you can do that is by getting on your fucking knees for me.”

Your gaze finds his, and you can only think about how you want his lips on yours again. He quickly leans back as you lean in, “ah ah ah. Only thing you should be kissing is in my pants.” Oh, he was serious. “You look lost. Here, I’ll give you a clue: it’s big and hard and is begging to be sucked.”

He practically pushes you down to the ground, sliding his fingers into your hair. “It’s all yours, baby.” He growls with a mischevious grin, nodding when you slowly slip his belt open.

And that’s how your affair with your law professor started.

[spooky-z]

HIT

Maribat by @ozmav

Warnings: aggression and language

Almost 3K.

All Marinette could see was red, purple and yellow against pale skin.

It was mostly red, the edges already becoming purple and around a sick yellow.

She could blink, look away, try to think of something else, but the image was glued to her eyes.

The anger burning under the skin, the blood running hot in her veins, heart beating angrily against her ribs. She could feel the metallic taste of the cut that her teeth opened on her lip.

Marinette had never felt more hatred for anyone than she did at that moment.

She wanted to jump the jugular and pull out the trachea with her teeth.

The urge to kill.

"... you better get away from her." Damian growled. His face contorted with disgust.

“Who do you think you are to intrude on a family affair?!” Audrey Bourgeois stood, arrogant and pompous, glancing disdainfully at the Pack.

Chloe by her side, her eyes puffy, hair down shadowing her face and lips trembling from holding back the crying. The handprint on the pale cheek was obvious and clearly visible despite the hair to cover.

She didn't dare look at her friends. At the pack. The humiliation was a heavy feeling, seeming worse every moment she heard the shutter sound of a phone camera toward her.

Dupont would have something to talk about for weeks now.

"... who does he think he is?!" Kagami says. She was the only one who seemed coolly calm. "Who YOU think you are." There were more than sharp words coming out. There were canines becoming sharper by the moment and a lack of control going on.

Audrey seems offended by the girl’s words.

"Lower your tone, young lady." She replies. Her tone was threatening. “Do you know who you are talking to? I'm Audrey Bourgeois, one of the greatest designers of the world. Wife of the mayor of Paris. And I can end your family's life in two seconds.”

Adrien smiles mockingly at the woman's words. "I'd love to see that happen... Auntie."

The woman chokes offended at the nickname, but doesn't seem surprised by the boy's behavior.

She raises her eyebrow.

"When Gabriel told me that you were in your rebel phase and that you were taking Chloe the wrong way, I really didn't believe it." She says. "But I see this time he has some reason to warn me."

The Pack grunts at the man's name.

"I knew that piece of trash wouldn't be quiet." Max mutters venomously.

"It's time we put an end to this old man." Kim mumbles back.

Audrey seemed to tire of all the little show they were giving Dupont's students and grabbed Chloe's arm, trying to pull the girl into the limo parked on the sidewalk.

“Come on Chloe, you have to pack your bags. We leave for New York today.” She turns, ignoring the Pack.

Something pops in Marinette, because all she can do is slap Audrey's hand away from Chloe and put herself between them. She probably looked like a wild animal right now.

The stylist shrugs her arm, holding her injured hand. Red face in indignation.

"Don't touch her." Marinette says. "Or I'll be forced to do something you won't like."

“Oh? What are you going to do? Tell your parents? You're nobody, little girl.” Audrey laughs sarcastically. “Chloe, let's go. Now."

"Nette, please, I don't want you to get in trouble." Chloe whispers, the pain was clear in the words.

The sound that comes from Marinette's chest is animalistic. The sound made the Pack shudder with the force and the dark feeling dripping into it.

Marinette would not let Chloe be taken. Not by Audrey, at least.

She doesn't look away from the adult Bourgeois before firing commands at the Pack.

"Damian, call Richard." The boy is quick to pick up the phone. “Adrien, call Clark and Lois. Let them know they can release that story in the newspaper.” The blonde doesn't even blink at the command. “Kim, Max and Luka, take Chloe to my house and don't let her out of sight.” Max and Kim surround Chloe and she gets carried away.

"Are you sure you want me to go, Mari?" Luka asks quietly, hesitating to leave. He knew that Damian and Adrien were not good at being Marinette's conscience in difficult situations. "I can stay and Adrien go with Chloe."

Marinette waves denying it. She looks at him just fast enough to calm him down before turning her attention back to Audrey.

“Kagami will stay with me and can keep me from doing something extreme.” Responds. "Chloe will need you more now."

“Alright, bu-”

"I'll call if I need support." Kagami is quick to answer him.

Luka hesitates for two more seconds before running after the other three who were waiting in the car with Auguste (aka Gorilla).

When only Damian, Marinette, Adrien and Kagami were left with Audrey (besides the audience watching), Marinette calmed down. The heated air was suddenly getting cold.

She was ready to attack.

“Do you really think hiding Chloe from me is going to work? I am her mother! The first lady! I run this town!” Audrey starts to scream. "Nothing you do will stop me from taking my daughter away from this... filthy relationship going on here."

Kagami steps forward wanting to attack the woman, but Adrien holds her hand and she stops, coming back to herself.

Damian had hung up the phone signaling an "OK" with his fingers.

"How about you shut up?" He says. “Keep talking will only make your situation worse.”

“Make my situation worse? What the hell are you talking about?!”

"He's talking about you getting arrested." Marinette replies without emotion. "Assault on a minor, threats, conspiracy with another adult to kidnap a child... There is a long list of your crimes."

Audrey looks attacked by Marinette's words, but also snorts in confusion.

“Conspiracy to kidnap a child?!” She grits her teeth. “Look at me and tell me if I look like someone who kidnaps someone! She is my daughter and I have the right to take her wherever I want when I want.”

Adrien laughs cynically at the woman.

"Not. You don't have.” He says. "Do you remember signing a document giving Chloe full custody to the mayor after signing the divorce a few months ago?"

"How-"

“Yeah, we know you are no longer the mayor's wife and you have no right to do what you did. If you left the country with Chloe without André's written permission, it would become a kidnapping.” Kagami cuts her off.

“She's my daughter!” Audrey stomps her foot.

"No, she is not. You gave up that right and now you hit her.” Damian growls. "You're lucky that murder is against the law, because otherwise..." He whispers deadly, but she can hear.

Audrey turns pale at the boy's words. Seeming to notice for the first time that the four teenagers had equal expressions of hate.

She opened her mouth to say something more, but the sound of police car sirens interrupted her and soon Dick was getting out of the car with Roger.

"Good afternoon." The Parisian cop politely greets, Dick nods without saying anything. “We received a complaint of public disorder and aggression against a minor.”

Audrey, knowing she would be in trouble, tries to get out of the situation by playing the victim.

"Officers, please, those brats went crazy and kidnapped my daughter!" There was a fake tear running down her cheek.

"What?!" Damian complains indignantly. "This crazy woman who was trying to kidnap one of us!"

Roger seemed frankly unsure of what to do, while Dick was watching the scene analytically. He was probably choosing the best way to end Audrey Bourgeois in front of everyone.

"What? No! You who kidnapped my Chloe and assaulted me!” She pointed her finger theatrically. “They threatened me, officer! Me! The first lady!”

"Madam, please." Roger takes Audrey by the shoulders and the woman makes an expression of disgust at the gesture. “Let's calm down. This confusion is attracting a much bigger audience than before.”

Only then does Audrey seem to notice that not only did Dupont's students watch (and film), but pedestrians passing by stopped to watch the confusion.

A TVi car getting closer and closer to guarantee the gossip of the day.

"Great! So, everyone learns about the sordid behavior that this school promotes towards students and how it corrupted my daughter!”

“Audrey Bourgeois-“ Marinette takes a step forward, looking at the woman and shaking her head. "Sorry! I meant Audrey Bisset.” She winks conspiratorially with the stylist's offended expression. "Here are your options."

She holds up a finger to signal "1" and begins, a soft voice.

"The first option is for you to leave now, without making another scene and we will not report you to these kind officers here."

The middle finger raises following the index finger. The "2".

"The second is that you continue and we are obliged to report you."

The ring finger raises to "3".

"Or I can just release very intimate files of yours on the internet and in the press, if you insist." Marinette lowers her arm and crosses the two behind her back, in a timid gesture. “Look, I knew you had some skeletons in the closet, but wow! What we found is enough to buy the entire IKEA and there is still no closet to store the bones.”

Roger, despite not appearing to like what Marinette was talking about, was curious about what she knew.

He was never a fan of Audrey Bourgeois for the way the woman treated her husband and daughter. Roger hated it every time Sabrina came home crying because Chloe had been particularly mean to her due to Audrey's influence.

The woman forced herself to be as unpleasant as possible and did not seem to have a drop of love in her heart.

Just greed and status.

“What.” Audrey babbles.

"Evan Halle." Kagami throws the name in the air, relaxed.

Audrey gets two shades paler. "How do you-"

"Laurence Green." Adrien continues.

The woman's skin changes to a greenish tone.

"Alright! I'm leaving!" She screams. "But you have to promise that the press will not know those names!"

"Deal!" Marinette waves happily. A sweet, very sweet smile, on the lips.

Audrey puts the sunglasses back on her face, composing herself. She pretends not to notice the press filming everything live for viewers at home and turns to get into the limo.

"Odette Han." Dick finally speaks and with that Audrey seems ready to run at any moment. “This is part of some of the names listed in the files. You will have to accompany us to the police station.”

He steps in front of her, preventing Audrey from trying to escape. Roger followed his movement and took the stylist by the arm.

“It will be good if you collaborate with us. Otherwise, we will be forced to handcuff you in front of everyone.” He says when Audrey tries to break free.

She looks at Marinette, anger in her expression and her eyes are wet with humiliation.

"You said you wouldn't let anyone know!" She rages at Marinette, losing her composure for the first time.

She struggles in Roger's grip, wanting to move forward on Marinette, but the man has an iron grip on the woman's arm and she stops.

Damian smirks. A dangerous look.

"She said she wouldn't release it in the press or on the internet." He answers. "And I believe that she is fulfilling the agreement, since the police are not part of the press."

Dick takes the opportunity to put the handcuffs on Audrey's wrists. “And she won't be the one to tell the press. It will be me.”

When Audrey starts struggling again trying to break free, Roger drags her into the police car. Leaving Dick with the teenagers.

“Thank you so much for your help, Richard. She wouldn't give up on Chloe if you hadn't arrived.” Marinette sighs a smile.

Dick raises an eyebrow, seeming not at all convinced by the false sincerity in the girl's words. He knew she could be quite manipulative when needed.

"You're welcome." He answers. “We were lucky to have obtained these files before she arrived in Paris. Chloe will be safe now.”

Kagami snorts. "What are you talking about? Chloe was always safe. Audrey only touched her because that was the plan.”

"Yes! And everything came out the way we planned!” Adrien claps the hands, a huge smile on his face.

"The slap was much stronger than imagined, but it gave the effect we wanted." Damian nods sharply. "The anger I felt when I saw the mark was genuine."

Dick's eyes widen in surprise.

"Wait, did you know this was going to happen?"

“Duh. Of course." Marinette replies. “Appearing at school all together and happy. We knew there would be gossip, especially nasty gossip from our class.” She rolls her eyes. "So, we took advantage of that knowing that Lila wouldn't be quiet and we let her get closer to Gabriel."

“But how were you sure he was going to talk to Audrey? I thought they didn't get along.”

"Because Gabriel likes to be in control." Kagami speaks. “He doesn't like to be told. Especially if the people giving the order are children.”

“My father wants to isolate me. If I lose all my friends, he will be able to regain control over me as before.”

"So, Gabriel, thinking that Audrey would take Chloe away from us, warns the woman about an "orgy" involving only daughter she has and she comes running to save her." Damian continues.

“But you didn't need evidence of the crimes she committed to get her away from Chloe. She had no right, so she would be arrested even if you didn't do anything.” Dick crosses his arms. "So why all this staging?"

Marinette smiles, a dark mood shining in the blueberry eyes.

"Because that way we send a message to everyone, especially Gabriel."

"And what message would that be?" Dick questions.

"Never mess with the Pack."

The “otherwise” was left unsaid, but the meaning was clear.

EXTRA 1:

"I didn't know you could be such a good actress, Apis." Kim praises Chloe, eyes glued to the news channel.

The girl snorts. "I am good at everything."

Max jumps on the couch, turning up the sound of the TV when a footage (probably from a cell phone, if judged by the image quality), particularly good of Chloe's marked face, appeared on the screen.

"Fuck." He swears in wonder. "It looks a lot worse on TV."

Luka sits next to the three and places the ice pack gently on Chloe's face, who moans gratefully.

That hurt like hell.

"I didn't think Audrey would be that strong." Luka comments. "Your face will be swollen for a few days, Apis."

"All for the greater good." She sighs.

They would have no more to worry about for a while.

EXTRA 2:

"What the hell was this all about?" Ivan grumbles.

“Why was Chloe's mother arrested? Anybody know?" Rose asks.

Alix swallows a sigh when she sees Nadja Chamack announce that Audrey Bisset has been arrested for promoting slave labor in her clothing line, bribery and blackmail.

"Guys, come see this!" She calls.

They were all gathered on Juleka's boat (thinking that Chloe had gone there with Luka) wanting to know what it was all about in front of the school.

"Damn it. The mayor's wife is hardcore." Nino whistles in surprise.

"It looks like they're not together anymore." Alya says. Eyes glued to the cell phone. “The mayor filed for divorce five months ago and took custody of Chloe. It looked like she wanted to take Chloe to New York without his permission and then the police were called.”

"But how did he know that?" Nathaniel asks. "That she was trying to get Chloe out of Paris?"

"Hm... It says here that 'friends concerned about the physical and emotional integrity of the mayor's daughter, called the police and made the report'." Juleka reads aloud.

"They?" Sabrina asks.

"They." Alya waves.

Lila couldn't help thinking that Marinette's group was unpleasantly scary. They didn't seem to take any effort to break down the obstacles on the way.

She feared for when her time came.

Because she was not stupid.

Her time was coming.

[tag list]

@northernbluetongue​ @gimme-more-caffeine @kris-pines04​ @drarryismylife101​ @puzzlelover431​ @18-fandoms-unite-08​ @krispydefendorpolice​ @asheanomhominem​  @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @cutechip​ @just-an-avarage-nerds-blog​ @lirulua​ @j-a-n-e-d-o-e @naclychilli​ @the-blindwatcher​ @xxmdsxx​ @emootaku-666​ @nicknnie​​ @multplelifes​​ @slytherinhquinn​​ @caffeinetheory​​ @clumsy-owl-4178​​ @k-poplunardreams​​ @moonystars14​​ @damianette-is-life​​ @

[milstrim]

Comfort in My Shadow

Chapter 5: Ironic

By @iwritedumbshit for @iron-mum

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Ned Leeds, James “Rhodey” Rhodes

Summary: Soulmates are definite in the universe. Nobody knows exactly why they exist, or what dictates who is bonded to who, the only thing known is that they are never wrong. But Peter’s not so sure about that.

Living at the group home had taught Peter a lot about laying low and how to stay alive when nobody cares. But he’d always clung to the hope of the shadow at his feet reflecting his soulmate that had watched over him for years.

Typical that his soulmate is actually a superhero that Peter is convinced shouldn’t want anything to do with him. Maybe, just this once, the Universe was wrong.

But Tony Stark is desperate to prove that it is right.

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

---

"Woah."

"I know, right," Peter said, unzipping the inside of the suit and moving to plug it into Ned's computer. His friend continued to gape at it, fingers trailing over the fabric reverently.

"I can't believe Iron Man made this," he whispered. "I get to sit here. And touch a superhero suit. That Tony Stark made. For my best friend. This is the greatest day of my life."

"You've said that a lot recently," Peter pointed out, pulling up the schematics of the suit on Ned's computer, who turned to look at him in confusion.

"What are you doing? Are you supposed to be messing with it?"

"I'm not messing with it. I'm just going through Karen's code real quickly."

"Karen?"

"The AI," he explained. "I just want to make sure she's not gonna snitch on me."

"Snitch on you for what?"

"Uhhh, so you know those alien weapons I've been talking about?"

Ned nodded. "Yeah?"

"I'm gonna take that down, and I don't really need Karen telling Mr. Stark," he mumbled the last part nervously. Ned stared at him.

"Why don't we want Karen telling Mr. Stark again? I mean, he gave you the suit, he must think you're capable."

Peter paused, puffing up his cheeks as he took in an awkward breath, staring at the protocols showing up on the computer. He'd already spotted three to tell Mr. Stark if he was in trouble, so he knew it was the opposite of Ned's assumption.

"Actuallyyyy..." He took a deep breath. "You can't tell anyone this." Ned nodded, but he continued to press. "I mean it. Nobody. Not a soul."

"I won't, I won't! I promise, Peter. Not. A. Soul."

"Mr. Stark's my soulmate."

Ned's head whipped around to stare at Peter's shadow, his mouth falling open.

"Oh, my God... Oh, my God! He's your soulmate!!?" Peter nodded, preparing himself for Ned's excited ramblings, but he couldn't really hide the smile on tugging at his lips either, however faint it was. "This is insane! Your life is so fucking insane I think I'm going to lose it!! Have you talked to him? Wait--yeah you have! How many times have you talked to him? Have you done, I don't know, 'soulmate things?'"

"Ned, what?"

Ned threw his hands up. "I don't know, I haven't met my soulmate. I'm trying my best, Peter!"

Peter laughed, shrugging.

"I don't really know what 'soulmate things' are, but we had dinner, and he showed me some stuff in his lab."

"Oh, my God...you've been in his lab. You know you have to show me one day."

"Definitely. I'll figure it out later, just, let us get more used to each other? Maybe? Let me impress him at least, which is why I'm trying to keep Karen from snitching on me."

"Sure. Here," Ned agreed, sitting beside him on the bed and gesturing for the computer. Peter passed it over to him wordlessly. "I'll work on the protocols, you do detective work or something."

"Thanks, dude."

"By the way, and answer honestly, is that Tony Stark's hoodie?"

Peter glanced down at the red hoodie that Mr. Stark had given him, 'MIT' emblazoned on the sleeves while the faded logo sat on the front of the piece of clothing. He smiled at Ned. "Yep."

"This is so cool," his friend melted.

With an amused eyeroll, Peter pulled out his phone, clearing his throat and nervously calling, "Karen?"

The phone lit up. "Yes, Peter?"

"Listen, ah, I was wondering if you could help me. I'm trying to figure out who these guys under the bridge were a few nights ago, but I mean, I can only kind of remember part of a license plate."

"Can you tell me where you were?" Peter rattled off Liz's neighborhood. Karen was silent for a little bit before piping up again. "Was there a white van involved?"

Peter perked up. "Yes! Exactly!"

A hologram popped up from Peter's phone. Ned stopped to stare at it as they both let out an identical, "Whoa..."

Peter watched intently from the security camera as the van rolled up under the bridge to where the buyer had been waiting. Karen highlighted the faces for him.

"Okay. The two on the right, who are they?" he asked.

"Searching law enforcement databases," Karen said, pausing before answering. "No records found for two of the individuals."

"Nothing?"

"One individual identified." The recording was replaced by a mugshot. "Aaron Davis, age thirty-three. He has a criminal record and an address here in Queens."

Peter and Ned glanced at each other. Ned said, "The protocols are disabled."

"Let's pay him a visit."

  ---

"So, what's this surprise you've been talking about?"

Tony's head shot up at the sound of his girlfriend's voice. He smiled, turning from where he'd been forcing some kitchen tools into a box to take in the woman as she stepped off of the elevator. She very much looked like she'd just come out of a meeting in sharp business slacks and an exhausted expression.

"Hey, Pep. How was...London?"

"Tokyo," she corrected, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "It was tiring. How's the packing?"

"Eh, boring," he said, kicking the box lightly and shoving his hands in his pockets. "So, anyway, I think that we should reconsider moving to the compound permanently."

"Tony, we just finished all the paperwork for the tower! And most floors have been packed by now, we can't just--"

"Not the tower. Just for us. Ever thought about a nice high-rise in Queens?"

Pepper stared at him, crossing her arms. "Queens? Since when have you ever cared about Queens?"

"Well, that's the surprise."

"The surprise is that you want to move to Queens?"

"No," Tony corrected, unable to stop his bright grin. "The surprise is that my soulmate lives in Queens."

It took a couple of seconds for that to register to Pepper. When it did, her eyebrows raised and she let out a smiled gasp. "You found him?"

Tony nodded. "Yep, just swinging around New York like a maniac."

"Swinging?"

"He's Spider-Man. Well, 'man's' a strong word. Here." He waved his hand, pulling up a screen that displayed Peter's yearbook photo. Pepper cooed at him. "Peter Parker. Top of his class at Midtown High by day, overly excited vigilante by night."

"He doesn't look like he could hurt a fly, never mind stop robberies. How'd he get his powers?"

"Forgot to ask, actually. He wasn't super excited to meet me at first, actually."

Pepper snorted. "Good. I'm glad he doesn't feed your ego."

"Hey! This is serious," he pouted.

"Uhuh." Pepper gave him another kiss on the cheek. "How'd you meet him?"

"Mugging. I bought him a hot chocolate."

"Hmm. I expected something stranger given your track record."

"He ran away."

"There it is," she said. "It's all good now, though?"

"Yeah..."

"Tony?"

He hesitated. "Peter lives at a group home, and I gotta say, not super fond of his foster father."

"Is he... Does he hurt Peter?" Pepper asked. He shrugged.

"Possibly. I gave Peter some money and the guy took it. Spent hundreds of dollars on liquor. And the kid's really thin. Jumpy, too. But there's nothing to prove right now."

"I'm surprised I didn't have our lawyer calling me to say you broke into a foster home and kidnapped a kid."

Tony shrugged, giving her a soft smile. "I don't need to break down the door to say hi to Peter. Besides, kid's wary, gets nervous easily. I don't want to scare him off by being too invasive about his home."

"Good on you for learning some boundaries, Tony," she congratulated before turning just a little more serious as she glanced at Peter's picture again. "You're sure he's alright?"

"No. But he's got a new superhero suit, a phone with me, Friday, and his own AI on speed dial, an unlimited credit card, and a badge to get into the tower. He's got resources if he needs them."

"Then let's just hope he doesn't need them."

 ---

  Peter waited until the next day to find and interrogate Aaron Davis, more at Ned's insistence that they study for their Spanish quiz and to let his friend geek out over the suit than anything else. He'd stayed at his friend's house for as long as humanly possible, readily accepting whatever snack that Ned had pushed his way and going over notes that Karen gave him about Davis. It wasn't until the alarm he'd had Karen set that it was 9:40 went off did he leave.

Peter didn't like to impose on his friend so much, but Ned hadn't seemed to mind with the new addition of a supersuit and Mr. Stark being his soulmate, and the teenager couldn't help the way he was still avoiding Mr. Fowler like the plague. After leaving Mr. Stark's on Sunday and failing to stop a simple burglary, he'd hurried back to the group home, helping Eric with his homework and then cooping himself up in his room. He'd managed to avoid him the entire night and the next morning due to the man being passed out drunk in his room. Though he was still wracked with guilt at the fact that his foster father had stolen Mr. Stark's money on alcohol, he had to admit that it was at least useful.

Bidding goodnight to his friend, Peter slipped out of the apartment and hurried down onto the street where he joined the late night crowd as he made his way back to the group home. He popped his earbuds in and chose a song on his phone (that had an unlimited choice for him now, but he just stuck with his familiar Spotify playlists) as he rushed back to a place that he wished he could avoid for longer. Unfortunately, the curfew was final, so he made it back to the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys with five minutes to spare.

He stopped in front of the door as his hairs rose. Surprisingly, they didn't direct him towards the house, instead calling him to turn around. Peter glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of a man sitting at an apartment's steps a few buildings down. It was too dark to see his face, especially with the hat he wore pulled down low, but he looked just a little familiar. More than a little nervous, the teenager shook it off and stepped inside.

Mr. Fowler was waiting for him at the dining table. Peter paused, taking out his earbuds as Mr. Fowler turned to stare at him, chewing on a slice of pizza. For some reason, despite living in New York, the man was obsessed with frozen pizza. It was practically criminal, but Peter excused it as mind games since all the kids weren't allowed to eat any of it. Only a sociopath would eat exclusively frozen pizza in Queens.

"Pity. I was hoping you'd be late," Mr. Fowler frowned at Peter as he shuffled to a hesitant stop by the stairs. "Got another card for me?"

"No," Peter lied stiffly.

"What? No sugar daddy today?"

He knew better than to argue. "I hung out with Ned."

Mr. Fowler stared at him, but the travel agent was nothing if not a man of his word. Peter had been on time, so he waved the teenager on. Resisting the urge to scramble into the safety of his room, he whisked up the steep stairs and into the dark bedroom only lit by the lamp in the corner.

Tim was already asleep, but Jeremiah was sat on his bed going over what looked like a book report. The teenager paid Peter no mind as he dropped his bag onto the ground beside his bed and changed into a pajama shirt. He kept the hoodie on that Mr. Stark had given despite the warmth of the night as he slipped under his covers, bundling up in the reassuring fabric.

Peter didn't fall asleep for a while, grateful for the light provided by the lamp as he stared at the outline of Mr. Stark's shadow as though it were the only thing in the world. It might as well be for all he cared. Blocking out Mr. Fowler was quickly becoming a new necessity that was increasingly hard to do with the way his senses focused in on every little thing.

The entire house smelled of the man's alcohol, musty and strong and littered with the memories of a dark closet where even his shadow hadn't been able to comfort him. But the hoodie carried the fading scent of Mr. Stark that washed away his tired uneasiness, at least for the time being, and the shadow kept him preoccupied with one comforting thought. Out there, just across a bridge, was an adult who cared.

 ---

  When Peter woke up, he felt off. He wasn't quite sure how to explain it, just that he knew the day was going to go wrong before it started. He wanted to curl up deeper into the hoodie that wrapped around him like a cocoon, but forced himself to push the covers off of himself and plant hit feet on the cold morning floor.

Jeremiah's bed was already empty, so Peter assumed that he'd already eaten and left with Eric, whose school started much earlier than everyone else's. Tim was still asleep, so Peter put on a pair of pants, grabbed his bag, and woke the kid up before knocking on the door of the other kids' room. He then headed downstairs and began putting together bowls of cereal for the kids that would be stumbling downstairs in a few minutes.

Mr. Fowler was in the kitchen, leaving the teenager to shuffle around him awkwardly as the man gave him a suspicious glare that he tried desperately to ignore. He left the kitchen as quickly as possible, placing the bowls down in the kids' usual spots and then taking up his own place to quickly scarf down a bowl of tasteless cereal. By the time he was finished, all the other kids had already stumbled downstairs and begun to eat.

Peter went along preparing their bags and then taking their bowls to the sink once they were done. He had just put the last dish in the dishwasher when the other boys at Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys walked out the door, leaving him alone with Mr. Fowler. The man was staring at him with the same suspicious glare as he closed the pantry and then made to grab his backpack.

"Wait just a moment, Peter," Mr. Fowler said. Peter paused immediately, holding back a shiver at the danger in his tone.

"Sir?"

"There was a pack of granola bars missing from the pantry last night." The man glared at him, clearly waiting for a reaction, but Peter just stared at him, hesitant. Which kid had taken the bars? He hadn't seen anything off in their bags, unless Mr. Fowler had just miscounted, though that didn't happen often. "Anything to say to that, Peter?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, sir. I didn't take them."

"You didn't? I find that very hard to believe. How close are you to ending your grounding?"

"Three days, Mr. Fowler."

He tutted, standing up from his chair and stepping over to Peter. The teenager couldn't stop the way he froze, tensing up and squaring his shoulders as a large, meaty hand clamped down on one. Fingers curled over the thick fabric of his hoodie, pricking at his skin.

"Well, it would be a pity if it was extended longer. You're sure you didn't take anything?"

"Nothing, sir." The hand flashed to his hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling his head down and to the side with a pained grunt. Peter forced his breaths to steady even as tears pricked at his eyes. "I didn't take anything, Mr. Fowler, I promise!"

"Then you've wasted my time, son. Do you know what makes up for lost time?"

"Wha-what? Sir."

"A bit of hard cash." Peter noticed the way the man's hand trembled. "That card was nice for the weekend, but I'm afraid I'm running a little low. Got anything else for me?"

His thoughts flashed to the newly activated card sitting in his wallet, tucked safely in his hoodie pocket. He could just give it up and walk away. Mr. Fowler would be happy and Peter could go to school, safe and sound.

Steely eyes met Mr. Fowler's impossibly strained ones. "No. I don't have any other money."

The fist let go of his hair, throwing him back. Peter caught himself in a stumble as Mr. Fowler looked at him in disgust.

"Fine," the man rasped. "Extend your grounding until next week, then. Now get to school before I'm forced to call you in an excuse."

Peter mumbled out a grated, "Yes, sir," before stumbling out the door. Instead of making his way to school, he stumbled into the nearest alleyway. The teenager sucked in a deep breath, cursing himself for the tears biting at his eyes and the panic choking his throat. He was fine. Nothing had happened. He was completely fine. It wasn't like the extension of his grounding even mattered, Peter had money to buy food when he needed it. Everything. Was. Fine.

But Peter wasn't fine. He was choking on air and stumbling on panic as he slid down a grimy alleyway wall, unable to even begin to calm down. He didn't know why he was even freaking out so bad, Mr. Fowler had only pulled his hair, but the revival of the strong smell of liquor and the closeness of the man's face to his was horribly haunting.

Peter pulled at his hair as he finally managed to wheeze in a breath, staring desperately at the shadow in front of him. Mr. Stark's fluffy hair and tall shoulders seemed to stare back at him, almost reassuring. The teenager shoved his nose into the collar of his cardinal hoodie, taking in a deep breath to drown out Mr. Fowler.

It calmed him slightly.

But not quite enough.

With chattering teeth, Peter pulled his bag off of his shoulder and tore the suit out of it. With no hesitation, he took off his clothes and stepped into the suit. Karen greeted him instantly.

"Good morning, Peter. Shouldn't you be heading to school?"

"Uh, no, no. Not today, Karen. That man, Aaron Davis? Where is he right now?"

A path was highlighted on his screen.

 ---

  "Remember me?"

Peter's voice was almost hilariously unnatural, but the man at the car stumbled back, so he guessed it worked. He thundered forward to where Aaron Davis was trying to stumble away from his car but was pulled back by the web sticking to the open hood.

"Uh, hey..."

"I need information. You're gonna give it to me now," Peter demanded half-heartedly, the enhanced interrogation mode making his voice much angrier. Maybe it was better than he thought.

"All right, chill," Davis placated.

"Come on!"

Davis paused, staring at him in confusion. Peter tried not to shuffle on his feet. "What happened to your voice?"

Crap.

"What do you mean, what happened to my voice?"

"I heard you by the bridge. I know what a girl sound like," Davis deadpanned.

"I'm not a girl! I'm a boy," Peter protested, quickly moving to correct himself. "I mean, I'm a--I'm a man."

"I don't care what you are, a boy, a girl..." the man trailed off with a shrug, continuing to load his car with groceries.

"I'm not a girl! I'm a man," he protested again. "Come on, man. Look, who is selling these weapons? I need to know. Give me names--or else."

Davis slammed the trunk shut and Peter flinched back on instinct. The man flashed him a teasing smile, shaking his head.

"You ain't ever done this before, huh?"

"Deactivate interrogation mode," Peter said sullenly. Davis huffed in amusement, shaking his head again. "Look, man, these guys are selling weapons that are crazy dangerous. They can't just be out on the streets. Look, if one of them can just cut Delmar's bodega in half..."

Davis, not paying attention in the slightest, looked up, regarding him in slight interest. "You know Delmar's?"

"Yeah, best sandwich in Queens," he shrugged.

"Sub Haven's pretty good."

"It's too much bread."

"I like bread."

"Come on, man, please," the teenager begged one last time. Davis stared at him, unresponsive, so with a dramatic throw of his hands, Peter began to walk away. "Stupid interrogation mode. Karen, don't ever do that again."

"The other night," Aaron started. Peter turned around to look at him. "You told that dude, "if you shoot somebody, shoot me." It's pretty ballsy. I don't want those weapons in this neighborhood. I got a nephew who live here.

Tentatively, Peter stepped back over, catching sight of the man's shadow. It was smaller, clearly a boy with a tall afro.

"Who are these guys? What can you tell me about the guy with the wings?"

"Other than he's a psychopath dressed like a demon, nothing. I don't know who he is or where he is." Peter sighed, leaning his head on the car roof. He was never going to prove to Mr. Stark he was worthy of being his soulmate when he couldn't even find the vulture guy. Aaron offered, "I do know where he's gonna be."

Peter perked up. "Really?"

"Yeah, this crazy dude I used to work with, he's supposed to be doing a deal with him."

"Yes!" Peter exclaimed, beginning to step away in giddiness. "Yes. Thank--"

"Hey, hey, hey," Aaron called. Peter stopped. "I didn't tell you where. You don't have a location."

Peter flushed bright red, making his way back to the car in embarrassment. "Right, of course. Yeah, my bad. Silly. Just...Yeah. Where is it?"

"Can I give you some advice?" Peter hummed. "You got to get better at this part of the job."

"I don't understand. I'm intimidating."

He crossed his arms, but Aaron only shook his head again.

"Staten Island ferry, eleven."

"Oh, that's soon," Peter realized. He began to walk away, pointing a finger at where the man's hand was webbed. "Hey, that's gonna dissolve in two hours."

"No, no, no, no. Come fix this."

"Two hours. You deserve that."

"I got ice cream in here."

"You deserve that. You're a criminal! Bye, Mr. Criminal!!"

 ---

  Tony clapped his hands together in an attempt to dust them off as he stared around the packaged remains of his lab. Scribbled formulas and problems had been wiped clean from boards, tables folded and disassembled, and prototypes all packed into boxes ready to be loaded onto the plane in a few days time. Most of what was left in his workplace was personal items and two encased Iron Man armors.

"How we looking on time, Fri?" he asked, grabbing his mug from where he'd placed it on the counter earlier and taking a sip.

"Packing for the move to the compound is on schedule, boss," the AI responded.

"Great," he said, smacking his lips at the comforting bitterness of his coffee, "How's the search for a Queens apartment going?"

"I have several different listings placed into the Itsy Bitsy Spider folder for you to look at."

"Great. Forward them to Pepper."

"Of course, sir."

Satisfied with the prospective of flipping through apartment listings closer to Peter in the evening, he glanced down at his shadow, frowning at the lack of fluffy hair there. It was Tuesday, wasn't it? He checked his watch for the time. Barely eleven. He was pretty sure Peter should be in school by now.

"Friday, is the spider-suit active?"

"Yes, sir."

He frowned harder. "Activate the Baby Monitor Protocol, I want to see what's going on."

"That protocol has been disabled, sir."

"What?"

The AI was silent for a moment before responding, "It has been disabled, along with many others. The only way to reinstate them would be manually."

Tony glanced down at his shadow again. Surely the kid wasn't messing with the suit? And especially not the protocols to keep him safe? And he'd skipped school, too.

"Call Peter."

 ---

  Peter peered over the top of the ferry roof at the men gathering below, who practically screamed shady. He kept an eye on Dronie's recording, the small robot keeping an eye on the other two guys up on the ferry, while Karen highlighted the men below.

"Who’s the guy on the left?" he asked, his spine shivering as he looked at the man.

"Mac Gargan. Extensive criminal record, including homicide. Would you like me to alert Mr. Stark?"

"What? No. I've got this, Karen."

One of the men that Peter had seen at the bridge approached Gargan. Peter could easily pick up his muttered. "White pickup truck."

Gargan nodded at one of his crones, who immediately began walking into the inside of the ferry holding the cars.

"Dronie," Peter whispered. "Scan the ship for a white pickup truck."

He watched the footage apprehensively as Dronie flew farther outside the ferry, x-raying the boat to pick out the truck inside. The robot then zipped over to it, beginning to scan the contents covered in the trunk but flying away and back to Peter as a man stepped out the front. His leg bounced nervously as the robot settled back in his chest, his heart beating erratically.

"Oh, this is too perfect," Peter said. "I got the weapons, buyers, and sellers all in one place."

"Incoming call from Tony Stark."

"No, no, no. No, no, don’t answer."

Despite his protests, the screen of his suit was swept away as Mr. Stark filled his screen. Peter tried not to grimace, keeping a careful eye on the men below even as the billionaire began to speak.

"Mr. Parker. Got a sec?" Mr. Stark greeted with a tight smile.

"Uh, I’m actually at school," Peter lied, ignoring Karen's correction in his ear. "I gotta get back to class, Mr. Stark, so--"

"What class?"

"Uhh--" Shit, what did he have at eleven? "Alge--"

The ferry's horn blared excruciatingly loudly. Peter resisted the urge to grimace, trying to keep an eye on the criminals below still.

"Band. I'm at, uh, band practice."

Mr. Stark stared at him, unimpressed. "That's...odd. You told me you quit band when you started swinging around as Spider-Man."

"I gotta go. Uh, end call."

"Hey," Mr. Stark protested, but the screen clicked close, allowing Peter to clearly see the people below once more. He flicked out a wrist, snapping a web onto a pair of keys being handed over.

"I’ll take those! Yoink!" He flipped, snatching the keys and webbing them to the ceiling. "Hey, guys. The illegal-weapons-deal-ferry was at 10:30. You missed it."

He webbed away the weapons from two guys quickly and threw them into the water. With a shiver up his spine, he ducked out of the way of the approaching man wearing the shocking gauntlet. The man's weaponized arm got stuck in the net on the ferry.

While he was distracted with the gauntlet guy, the other two he'd disarmed had scrambled to their feet, egging for a get away. Peter turned lackadaisically, webbing them

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Not so fast." He threw the two to the ground. "Are you guys okay? My bad. That was a little hard. I gotta say the other guy was way better with that thing. I’m honestly, I’m, I’m shocked."

This was going super well.

 ---

  Peter let out a short scream of pain, suspended between the two crumbling halves of the ferry. His arms burned as he gripped at the webs fruitlessly, but he refused to let go. He could hear their heartbeats, fast and afraid and exactly like his own. The teenager panted, straining harder than he ever had before only to continue to fail. The ferry wasn't coming back together, his webs hadn't done anything, and the entire ship was going to fall apart.

And yet he refused to let go, even as he felt his arms tear painfully. He cracked his eyes open, searching desperately for his shadow. It was currently lost in the waves crashing underneath as cars piled into the rushing water. There was a moment, so quick he almost missed it, where a car hood stayed still long enough just for him to make out the shadow.

Of an Iron Man armor.

There was a metal groaning and an easing on his shoulders. Peter looked away from his shadow.

"What the hell?" With the ferry putting itself together, the teenager let himself drop onto the ferry floor, arm raised in fearful apprehension as the sound of metal colliding echoed around the entire boat. "What the hell..."

Mr. Stark in the Iron Man armor rose into view at the windows. Despite the fact that he was wearing a mask, it was easy to tell he looked angry. Or, hopefully, he was reading too much into it and the suit was just mean looking.

"Hi, Spider-Man. Band practice, was it?"

Nope. He sounded mad too. Peter had to force down a shiver, ignoring the clapping people and swinging to the cargo hold as Mr. Stark flew under it, beginning to piece the ship back together. He followed anxiously on the ceiling, turmoil sitting heavy in his stomach as he followed the man.

"Uh, Mr. Stark?" he called nervously. He continued to skitter after the man as he flew up to the ferry's top, trying to catch the man's attention even as he continued to ignore the teenager. "Hey, Mr. Stark. Could I do anything? What do you want me to do?"

"I think you’ve done enough."

Peter couldn't even bear to look at his shadow.

 ---

  "So that’s it, you’re just gonna run?" Adrian asked as Schultz approached with his overflowing duffle bag.

"Feds were waiting for us. Now we’re on Iron Man’s radar? Yeah, I’m running. You should, too."

"You know I can’t do that," Toomes said, glancing down at the shadow of his wife.

"So now what?" Schultz shrugged. Adrian rubbed at his chin.

"Mason, can you get that high-altitude seal thing up and running in time?"

"Seriously?" the engineer asked, comically giddy despite how hilariously screwed they all were. "Yes. You will not regret this."

Adrian turned back to Schultz. "You in?"

The man glanced down on the floor, contemplative. "If we get caught, we're dead. And we have days before that plane takes off. We'll be caught before then. Stark will get us, you know that."

"So we take care of Stark."

"Take care of Stark? You're crazy. How the hell are we gonna to kill Iron Man?"

Adrian thought for a moment, thoughts creeping back to the night over the lake; a defensive boy and an over-eager man and matching shadows. Peter Parker, as had been reported by one of his men following the kid. He even went to Liz's school, on her academic team and everything. He hurt a little to do this, but nothing was more important than family.

"We don't need to kill Stark," Adrian responded. "We just need to insure his compliance."

  ---

Tony finally spotted the kid sitting on the edge of the building, his legs thrown over the side, his mask torn off his face as he stared down at the water. The bulky outline of the Iron Man armor extended behind him, an imposing figure compared to the hunched and shivering kid. The sound of sirens and helicopters rang in the distance, only feeding fuel to the fire that was his anger. It had been two days since he'd given Peter the suit and he'd already hacked it, lied to him, and endangered the lives of more than a hundred people. He'd taken Tony's tech and ran with it, doing what the man had warned the teenager not to do, and almost gotten himself killed too.

It terrified him just as much as it infuriated him.

"Previously on Peter Screws the Pooch," Tony started, hovering next to Peter's spot on the building. "I tell you to stay away from this. Instead, you hacked a multimillion-dollar suit so you could sneak around behind my back doing the one thing I told you not to do."

"Is everyone okay?" Peter rasped.

"No thanks to you."

He clunked down on the ground, but Peter barely even looked at him, just grasping the mask in his fingers tighter. After a tense moment, the kid turned to glare at him, a sour look on his face.

"What do you care?"

The question almost shocked Tony from his anger, but the fury managed to cling on as the suit opened, allowing for him to step out. There was a defensive flicker on Peter's face, washed away as quickly as it came, at the stiff anger glued to his figure.

"What do I care?" he echoed incredulously. "Who the hell gave you the suit that you're wearing right now? The one that you used to go fight people you weren't ready to fight. Peter, you're not prepared for this--"

"I didn't see you doing anything."

"Who do you think called the FBI, huh?" Tony demanded.

"And they got their asses kicked immediately!"

"And you did what exactly?"

Peter swallowed. A soft, angry mumble shivered from his chest. "I just wanted to be like you."

Tony glowered. "And I wanted you to be better."

Peter didn't have an answer to that, turning away with a sharp flinch to stare down at the water again where the ferry was finally beginning to dock. His face was scrunched up in cold anger. Tony stared at him, waiting, but the teenager didn't do anything. Didn't say anything. With an indignant sniff, Tony glanced between the approaching boat of people and the kid sitting stiffly in front of him.

"Okay, it’s not working out. I’m gonna need the suit back."

That caught Peter's attention. His head whipped around and he finally swiveled off of the building's edge, standing to face him. The defensiveness was back in full force now, broken only by a shiver of fear in the tremble on his face.

The teenager swallowed. "For how long?"

"Forever." Peter gaped at him, shaking his head. Tony hit him with a withering expression. "Yeah. Yeah, that’s how it works."

"No, no, no... Please, please, please..." the kid rushed, his voice pitching higher.

"Let’s have it."

"You don’t understand. Please. This is all I have. I’m nothing without this suit."

"If you’re nothing without this suit, then you shouldn’t have it." Tony stopped in his demand, pausing to stare into the distance under the guise of letting Peter absorb his words but really choking down his own panic and regret. This was how he was treating his soulmate. He hadn't known this kid for a week and he'd had maybe two successful conversations with him. And now he was yelling and bringing down and punishing. "God, I sound like my dad."

Peter stared at him, swallowing. "Mr. Stark, please I don't want you to g--"

"The suit. Peter."

He could barely even look at the kid's completely dejected expression.

  ---

Peter meandered down the street, his head down as he forced himself to bite down on tears. It wasn't that hard, he'd had a lot of practice recently after all, but he couldn't deny that it hurt. Well, he could, but not to himself.

With the loss of the suit, Peter's bag was considerably lighter. Empty. It was disturbingly similar to how he felt in the moment, like a stumbling shell of a person.

He'd fucked up. He knew he had. But he didn't think he'd fucked up enough to lose his soulmate. He'd just--he'd just wanted to try and impress Mr. Stark, to show the man that he was worthy of being the shadow that had followed the superhero--his hero--around for fifteen years. He huffed to himself quietly at the horrible irony of it all.

After Mr. Stark had demanded to the suit, well, Peter had given it to him. He hadn't had much other choice. The man had allowed for him to go grab the bag he'd webbed to an alleyway earlier and change into his clothes. Choking down panicked tears, the teenager had folded up the barely used suit, and, after a moment of hesitation, slipped the card, the phone, and the badge given to him into the mask. He wanted to have given him the red hoodie too, but it was the only top he'd had, so he'd reluctantly kept it. He'd given the stuff that was no longer his to the still seething Avenger and had left. Mr. Stark hadn't ask where he was going, so he hadn't told him.

Not that Peter was amazingly sure he knew himself. He didn't want to go back to where Mr. Fowler was surely working from home. Peter was supposed to be at school, the man would be furious that he hadn't gone, and he didn't have the courage to face him right now. The ghosted feeling of a hand tugging at his hair and painful nails in his shoulder was enough to keep him wandering the streets of Queens for as long as he possibly could.

There wasn't a destination, there was barely even a journey, there was just the tired wanderings of a teenager trying desperately not to break down crying. Part of him wished he'd kept the phone, just so he could text Ned, or even lose himself mindlessly on social media for an hour or two, but Mr. Stark's words rang clearly in his head.

"Forever."

Peter shook himself vigorously, taking a wispy breath. Of course he would lose his soulmate not even a week after meeting him. Everyone else had left too, it really only made sense.

He didn't know why he'd let himself hope.

"I don't want you to go."

A painfully strong shiver up his spine forced the teenager to stop in the middle of the alleyway he'd been cutting through. Peter pulled back his sleeve, brows furrowing as the hairs on his arm rose on end. Without his phone, or the watch kept on his webshooter, the teen had no way of knowing what time it was, but it had to have been at least half an hour since Mr. Stark had taken the suit. Since he'd caused a gun to split a ferry full of innocent bystanders in half.

"And I wanted you to be better."

Peter had assumed his senses had continued to freak out from the resounding adrenaline and the complete rush of panic that had been today--from the horribleness of it all--but they still weren't calming down.

Jittery, he turned to leave the alleyway back the way he came, but there was a man blocking his way. He froze when he recognized him and the glitching gauntlet on his arm. From the bridge and the ferry. The man stalked forward.

Peter whipped around to escape towards the other end, but another man stood there as well, a different alien weapon in his hands. Peter paused again, eyes shifting desperately for an escape even as the weapon behind him charged up with a threatening snap.

"Give it up, kid," ordered the man. "Come easy, and we won't hurt you."

"Wow. So reassuring," Peter snapped. Without warning, the teenager leaped, jumping onto the wall as high as he could reach. He attempted to begin skittering up the wall, but there was another spike in his senses.

There was no time to dodge as he was encased by an annoyingly familiar blue light that crashed him to the ground straight into a gathering of trashcans. He groaned in pain as he collided with the metal, the cans tipping over and releasing their contents near and on him. There were footsteps, and he tried to push himself back up, but the man with the gauntlet approached quicker than he could recover.

The teenager stared up at him as the man smirked. The gauntlet cracked.

"Nighty-night."

Peter could only close his eyes as a metal fist came crashing down.

---

~Click for better quality~

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

[ransomedrogue]

Tales of Woe - Scenes from S1

oops, meant to get this out before Monday but minor delay due to editing! 

this week - a scene to start the episode and one to end it...

1.3

Weller's emotional rollercoaster of a day started before the previous one had even ended - with a phone call just before midnight.

He hadn't been home all that long after wrapping up the Gibson case when his cell began to ring and he saw that it was an agent from Jane's detail. That alone flicked at his anxiety, making him flash back to the fear he'd experienced seeing her crashed car. Then, when the agent started describing what had happened at the safe house, Weller's blood pressure instantly shot through the roof and he almost walked out the door in just his PJs before he realized he needed to bring his badge and gun.

Rushing to the scene, Weller only managed to resist breaking numerous driving laws by constantly reminding himself that Jane hadn't sustained any serious injuries and was currently chaperoned by multiple FBI agents and cops. Yet he was still much too aware that those same agents had just let a guy sneak into her safe house and it was entirely possible that she would already be dead if that had been the man's goal.

Ice cold dread ran through Kurt at that thought. He could have lost her again, so soon after finding her. Even if they hadn't tested her DNA yet, he was sure that she was Taylor, somehow brought back to him after twenty-five years away.

Pulling up to the scene at an unreasonable pace, Weller saw that it was already getting busy with more agents arriving and the coroner showing up to deal with the body. He flashed his badge to get past the yellow tape and immediately started scanning until he saw Jane sitting on the couch, scowling at the paramedic trying to look into her eyes with a penlight.

"Ma'am, you've been hit hard enough to lose a tooth and your pupils are still dilated. I really recommend that you come to the hospital and get examined by a doctor."

Instead of arguing with the EMT, Jane saw that Weller was approaching and gave him an exasperated look. And suddenly he was transported back to a moment forgotten for so long that he hadn't known that it was still there.

In his memory Kurt was nine and crouching in front of an annoyed four-year-old, doing his best to put antiseptic on her scraped knees as she rolled her eyes at him and complained.

"It's not even bleeding, Kurt," she'd groaned, desperate to get back to the game they'd been playing. "You're such a worrywart."

Weller remembered the internal pressure he'd felt, babysitting his wild little neighbour. It had been a responsibility he took pride in and he'd hated having to tell Emma that Taylor had hurt herself again, attempting some stunt. Or, even worse, explaining that he'd stepped on Taylor's hand, causing her to fall from the tree. Not that Emma had ever blamed him for any of the bruises and cuts; instead, she'd always reassured him that it was all part of an active childhood. Still, he'd been the older one, the one in charge. So he'd always felt like it was his fault if Taylor hurt herself, no matter what anyone else said.

Looking at Jane now, he felt exactly the same way. He obviously couldn't protect her, not even with the power of the FBI behind him. And failing in his duty made him angry and anxious; overprotective to the extreme.

Kurt flashed his badge and told the paramedic that he could go, explaining that he would deal with Jane and make her see a doctor. The EMT exhaled in relief as he walked away from his stubborn patient and Weller took the man's place, standing in front of Jane, who was still seated on the couch.

She looked tired yet agitated, sitting there holding her swollen cheek. He could see that it was already bruising and Weller internally flinched as he imagined her getting hit hard enough to knock out a tooth.

"I knew him," she said immediately. "He's the man from my target training memory. The one that was outside the building before we almost got blown up. He knows me and he was following me. We have to find out who he is."

"Whoa, Jane," Weller replied, crouching down to look at her more closely. "Slow down. We will do everything we can to find out who that guy was and how he's connected to you. And I do want to know exactly what happened here. But first, tell me are you okay?"

Jane looked a little startled by his question, as if she'd completely forgotten about everything else while fixating on the dead man in her safe house. Then she glanced down at her hand on her cheek and wrinkled her nose.

"My face hurts. But otherwise I'm fine," she muttered.

"You still have to get checked out by a doctor," Weller said. "He must have hit you really hard."

Jane brought her hand down from off her jaw and gave him an irritated look.

"It's been a long day, Weller," she groaned. "I really don't want to go to the hospital."

Weller flashed back to earlier that day, having the same argument with her after she'd crashed the SUV. He'd pretty much guilted her into it then. But right now Jane sounded so tired and on edge that he didn't want to battle with her.

Yet it was clear she needed to see a doctor and at least get some x-rays of her jaw. So Kurt thought the issue through until he arrived at a solution that could placate both of them, even taking the time to figure out how best to present it to his recalcitrant patient.

"Well, you can't stay here," Weller finally said. "It's a crime scene now. We'll find you a safer place."

"And you need to be cleared by a doctor before you can come back out in the field with us," he added. "That's standard protocol."

Jane's frown deepened and she exhaled wearily. Weller could hear that he'd chosen the right selling point - she was desperate to stay involved with the case and be out on missions with the team.

"So either I take you to the hospital right now or you pack up some stuff and we go to the NYO. You can sleep in the medical bay until the doctor gets there in the morning to check you out."

Jane gave him a long look that indicated she knew exactly what he was doing. Yet, for once, she didn't argue, just giving him a tired shake of her head instead.

"Okay, I'll see the doctor at the NYO," she sighed.

Weller held back a grin at her begrudging response and offered her his hand. Jane gave it a long suspicious look before grasping it and letting him pull her up to her feet.

The drive to the NYO was silent, even though Kurt was full of questions. He desperately wanted to know everything that had happened that night but knew that it wasn't the right time to ask. Jane was quiet and obviously still shaken from what had happened; so Weller decided to leave his questions for the morning, after she'd been seen by a doctor.

As they neared the office, Kurt glanced over at Jane once more. He had thought her silence was due to her own head being full of questions too, or continued stubbornness about getting medically checked out. But it turned out that she'd just fallen asleep now that all the adrenaline had fled her system, her head lolled back against the headrest so the bird tattoo was perfectly exposed.

He had never before met such a vibrant, tenacious woman. And even though he had no proof yet, Weller knew in his bones that she was Taylor. He'd gotten her back; been given a second chance. And this time, he wasn't going to let anyone hurt her.

Again he glanced over at his sleeping charge, feeling a warm tickle spread through him as he realized how relaxed she now looked. All the tenseness she'd been wearing at the crime scene was gone as she murmured inaudibly and leaned in his direction.

Weller resisted the urge to reach over and brush a wayward strand of hair out of her face, forcing himself to focus on the road. Yet he still found himself looking to his right far too often, as if his eyes were magnetically drawn to her.

It was impossible but he believed it with every cell in his body.

She was Jane and she was Taylor.

And most of all, she was his to protect.

###

Jane's emotional rollercoaster of a day ended with two solid answers; yet her head was still full of questions as she stood there, clinging onto Weller's arm.

After all that arguing with Weller and Agent Reade's open questioning of her role in the investigation, it had been a major relief to be told by Mayfair that they had all supported her being armed and part of the team. Jane was sure that Weller had pulled rank with his agents to get that kind of unanimity but she hadn't even had time to really thank him for backing her before Patterson showed up and gave them the other, unbelievable, news.

She was Taylor Shaw. Weller's neighbour, who had disappeared without a trace twenty-five years ago.

Jane stared at him and he stared right back. She watched a wave of joy pass through Weller's expressive blue eyes and felt his elation ripple down her spine as well. Not only had they finally found out something concrete about her, it tied her intricately with Kurt and explained his name being tattooed on her back.

For a moment Jane wondered if it was normal, how much Weller could make her feel. She'd spent most of the day being furious with him for keeping secrets and refusing to let her participate fully out in the field. But then he'd insisted on going with her to the hospital, despite Agent Reade's vocal objections. Which had paradoxically made her feel both protected and nervous, because it was clear that Reade had touched on the truth.

Then, as soon as they were in danger, he had given her a gun without hesitation, fully trusting her to watch his back. Which had been a good thing, considering how close he'd gotten to having a full round of ammunition pumped into him, point blank. Even as it was, Jane had almost been too late - she'd seen the gunman's trigger finger moving just as she shot him dead.

The relief she'd felt seeing Weller alive was as fierce as any emotion she'd experienced yet. And then there had been a whole new set of feelings after he told her he thought she was his childhood friend, the little girl who went missing when he was ten. That revelation had finally put the entire day into perspective, completely flipping her understanding of his behaviour.

The argument with Mayfair. His sudden overprotectiveness. His blow up when she disobeyed his order and put herself in danger.

Weller had been under such immense personal pressure. She wondered how long he'd been thinking of her as Taylor. Clearly it had been influencing his actions all day.

Jane flushed a bit remembering how furious she'd been with him during his tirade about protecting her. At least she wasn't angry with him anymore. That hadn't felt good at all.

So much was running through her mind that Jane suddenly realized they'd been standing there for ages, just holding on to each other and staring silently. Patterson had left somewhere along the way and it now was just the two of them, with the mind-blowing piece of information hanging between them.

Weller's eyes were still teeming with an emotion she couldn't quite identify. She could see that he was fighting to contain himself now that his suspicion had been confirmed.

Jane flashed back to him telling her that she could trust him, that he'd been looking for her all his life. It made her feel warm and a bit tingly, to be to closely tied to Weller. But there was also pressure to being the girl he'd sought for so long - to mean so much to a man she barely knew, a man who already made her feel everything so strongly.

"Are you okay?" he asked, finally finding his voice.

"Yeah," she replied slowly. "It's just… how is this even possible?"

Weller shook his head, a look of wonder still in his eyes.

"I don't know," he said.

"But we will figure it out. We're going to find out what happened to you."

He sounded so sure but Jane was realizing that getting answers had only opened up an onslaught of new questions. If anything, being Weller's childhood neighbour made the whole situation even more confusing and implausible. Also, what had Casey meant by Orion? Was that a clue to where she'd been taken after being kidnapped at age five?

The wave of questions was about to engulf her when Jane felt a squeeze on her elbow and remembered that Weller's hand was still on her arm. Looking up at him, she suddenly felt drained from everything that had occurred in the past day. She'd barely gotten any sleep after the attack at her safe house and then had an extremely emotionally and physically taxing day.

"Hey," he said, studying her closely. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Jane shook her head. She needed some time to think before she asked him any more questions.

"Okay then, how about some food?"

She furrowed her brow at him, confused by the abrupt change in topic. But Weller was just giving her his usual warm concerned look, like he hadn't said anything out of the ordinary.

"I bet you haven't eaten all day," he added. "It's been over twelve hours."

Food was the last thought on her mind, especially after such an intense day. But, thinking about it, she realized that he was right on both counts. And then, precisely at that moment, as if her body was in collusion with Weller, Jane's stomach growled.

Weller grinned at her and Jane swore she even saw a twinkle in his eye as he slipped his hand down her arm until his fingers were entwined with hers.

"Well, that settles that," he said. "Let's go get something to eat."

"Weller," Jane muttered, unsure about his proposition. Going to a restaurant with Weller sounded both enticing and nerve-wracking. Especially with everything that had happened between them that day.

"It's fine, I'll order in later."

"No," he replied sternly. "We're going together and I'll take you to your new safe house after. We won't talk about any of this until tomorrow. But I want to make sure you eat some real food."

Jane's instinct was to argue and push off his concern. But then she remembered the sadness in his eyes as he'd told her about his little neighbour, how he'd been there the night she was taken.

Weller wanted to protect her. And as much as it was sometimes irritating, it also made her feel safer knowing that he was looking out for her so fervently. So maybe it was okay to let him care a bit too much, especially when it felt so good to have his fingers laced between hers.

"Okay," she sighed, giving his hand a squeeze.

She didn't yet know what to say, or how she felt about being his missing girl. But Jane did want him to understand how she was grateful for everything he'd done for her already and for how much he cared.

"Thank you," she finally said, offering him a timid smile. "For everything."

"I'm so glad you found me."

[whetstonefires]

mcu ethics bad

The thing is that, while I was angry at Tony during Age of Ultron, particularly when he rode over Bruce’s compunctions about building a giant combat super-robot and pressured him into the project like a very very bad friend who happened to also be wrong...

...and when he equipped Hulkbuster armor and fought the Hulk in the middle of a city rather than attempting de-escalation or attempting to haul the Hulk out into the giant adjacent desert....

(And my suspension of disbelief snapped like a frayed cable when he brought down a skyscraper that had had no time to be evacuated on a street full of fleeing people and the only reason we were given to believe he hadn’t just cold-bloodedly created massive civilian casualties was that he told his AI to find the impossible magic angle where doing this wouldn’t kill anyone...)

While I was angry with him then, and unspeakably relieved that he recognized his own damage and retired at the end, haha psych, I was revolted by him during Civil War.

It’s supposed to make us sympathize with a character more, spending so much time with them, getting into their heads, being shown their emotional drives and reactions to things, and we spent so much time with Tony during that film, understanding his point of view. And...I did understand him. He’s not complicated. I even sympathized with his emotional state.

But in the context of his actions, throughout the film, I gazed into that understanding the way I did into Kylo Ren’s face in the seconds after he first unmasked. I see you, I know you, everything you are is written here, and the lines of your shame and self-revulsion are so thick upon you, and you should be ashamed but your self-destruction does not expiate or justify one jot of the harm you do.

Because everything Tony did in Civil War came from a place of selfishness. He was selfish all throughout that movie down to his very spine.

And selfishness isn’t itself necessarily bad--you need a little, to get through life, you have the right to your own portion of it. Your boundaries and your needs. But the type of selfishness that is forcing other people pay dearly for your emotional comfort and sense of control: no.

That is tyranny. That is not acceptable.

And you know how I know he was being selfish? Because his motive for pushing the Sokovia Accords was his personal guilt for the destruction of Sokovia.

But the Accords didn’t address that at all! They were tangential to the issue! None of the terms of the Accords would have saved Sokovia--in fact, the existence of them could easily have prevented the evacuation and harm-reduction the Avengers managed there, without saving a single soul.

The Ultron crisis was something Tony did, not as Iron Man but as Tony Stark, with Bruce Banner’s help, and which Wanda as criminal fugitive later helped exacerbate, and which all the other Avengers were involved in only to mitigate harm.

Legislation, or...treaties, idk, the UN isn’t actually empowered to pass laws so who knows what this thing was...aimed at preventing another Sokovia would mandate constant ethical oversight of billionaire science man’s mad science. At the very least! He never has to run things by ethics boards because he’s self-funded, at the very least let’s invent a mechanism to make up for that.

That would address the actual Sokovia issue, both in terms of risks and in terms of Tony’s personal guilt feelings.

But no one suggests that! It’s not even on the table! Because no one, certainly not any government, can tell Tony Stark what to do unless he lets them, that’s been a clear matter of record since Iron Man 2.

And because no one writing this legal instrument of whatever description was actually motivated by wanting to avoid another Sokovia, or even another ‘Wanda tries to neutralize a suicide bomber but merely gives him a different, smaller victim pool’ incident.

They didn’t care! They blatantly didn’t care! The entire thing was a ghoulish use of the dead to gain enough political leverage over the Avengers to put a leash on them!

(Which might not be a bad thing in principle, everything needs its checks, but when the last quasi-governmental organization you worked for turned out to be Nazis who were only prevented from staging a mass slaughter of undesireables by the skin of your teeth, I think you’re well within your rights to be very choosy about who you agree to obey, and to be firmly against pledging your honor to follow people whose first move was dishonest coercive tactics.

Actually you’re well within your rights to demand to negotiate the terms of even a much less sweeping contract, even without the Nazis. The whole approach to this thing stank to high heaven.

The fact that it was written by the UN like a treaty, expected to be signed by private individuals like a contract, and then enforced like a law except not because 1) laws are for everyone 2) if you break a law you get a trial not extrajudicial incarceration and 3) being pressured to consent to a restriction and then punished for refusing consent is hypocritical circular logic and in fact police corruption at its finest, all continues to show it was a bullshit nonsense franken-document.)

The whole movie is people ghoulishly using the dead to manipulate Tony into making bad decisions in response to his emotional pain. That’s. The plot of the film.

Then Zemo staged T’Chaka’s assassination and framed Bucky for it to raise the tension, ramp up the pressure, and prevent any sitting-down and talking reasonably through this, which might have allowed for the recognition of how extremely bullshit the entire concept was.

Tony was being used. Tony was a tool of bad people for most of that movie, and while Zemo banked on using his wrath for it, the politicos were leaning on his guilt.

And there’s honestly little I hold in deeper scorn than going out and hurting other people to assuage your own guilt and treating this as having the moral high ground. No. You don’t have the moral high ground on account of your guilt motivation. You have it if the actions you took were just, or at least could reasonably be assumed to have been so at the time.

And Tony fucking knew they weren’t. He didn’t even last to the end of the movie before recognizing that he’d been manipulated and fucked up, and doubling back.

That he then walked into a different manipulation, turned on a dime, and had to be stopped from doing a murder doesn’t unwrite that.

And it drives me nuts that people will say Tony was acting out of principle while Steve was acting out of personal attachment. Because sure, the Bucky thing was important, was the reason he was walking forward against all opposition instead of standing still to argue, but it wasn’t the reason Steve said no, while...

Tony wasn’t acting out of principle. Tony isn’t...very good at having principles. That’s not even a criticism or condemnation, it’s just how he functions. Since Iron Man he’s been substituting good intentions and emotional investment, which has worked out to varying degrees. It works best for huge, difficult, very straightforward decisions like ‘ride the nuke through the portal and save my hometown.’ It works less well for nuanced situations.

Tony was, as usual, acting out of emotion. And some awful shitheads who’d figured out where his levers were had calculated how to jiggle his emotion switches in the right places to make him do exactly what they wanted.

And you can tell he wasn’t acting out of principle because, for example, someone who was trying to get the superhero community under outside control for the sake of harm mitigation...

...well, firstly wouldn’t have chosen to stage a massive battle? But it’s possible someone in the UN specifically told him to do that, and in theory they at the very least signed off on it, presumably for its PR value of making Captain America look deranged and violent since it’s a deranged decision from every other angle, so yay, he can pass that responsibility up the chain and not have to angst about it, as promised.

But I was going to say would not have approached a minor who (this timeline takes pains to show us) had no prior experience of battle or even, somehow, serious violent crime, to recruit him to go be a government child soldier on another continent, without his guardian’s knowledge or consent. There were overtones of blackmail in Tony’s approach, before it turned out Peter was such a big fan he didn’t need that. What the fuck frankly.

That is not the action of someone who wants to start doing things by the letter, scaling the violence down, keeping within the law and putting the power of decisionmaking in other people’s hands because he’s realized he can’t trust his own.

And frankly even if he did act like that I wouldn’t necessarily support his choices, in particular his snap decision to behave coercively toward other Avengers with vastly less social power and security than he has.

And that’s the other thing! Everything about ‘Tony + Accords BFFs’ rings so hollow because he has never thought rules applied to him, and he knows perfectly well the entire time he’s fighting to force this surrender of agency down other people’s throats that he is going to be practically immune.

This man was technically a terrorist, proabably the most prolific single terrorist in world history until his rogue android exceeded his body count, but he was immune to prosecution because he was in tight with the United States military-industrial complex and basically untouchable due to his status within capitalism, and pursuing their international goals anyway. In the time between Iron Man and Iron Man II he was basically a one-man upgrade of the US drone program, and so good at it that the crest of blood he carved through the Middle East allowed him to announce he had ‘privatized world peace.’

(You are never going to get a world peace worth anything on the basis of a giant flying gun, okay.)

He went to war as a private individual, against non-state actors who were not directly threatening him, which is very much defined as ‘mass murder’ in all domestic and international law, and the US army in response sued him for control of his weapon. And lost! Lost.

No one attempted to press charges. No one. Because Tony Stark is above all that. And he knows it.

And like. I’m willing to accept the mass murder under the heading of ‘superheroing’ within the terms of this setting! Even if, after his vengeance rampage on his specific kidnappers, this violence was kept strictly off-screen for a reason. I did that! I bent that far! Genre convention!

But this history is kind of vitally important to any analysis of what he thought he was doing, and what he actually was doing, when he decided to become the iron gauntlet of the Sokovia Accords.

The currently active member of the Avengers who needed muzzling most was very manifestly Iron Man, and he knew even as he jammed the muzzle on all his comrades to make himself feel better that it would affect him the least, even if he didn’t finally retire for real this time. You don’t force Tony Stark. Not if you want anything out of it but blown up. You persuade him.

And once you have...oh, look at what he can do.

[comrade-meow]

A great deal of the transgender debate is unexplained. One of the most mystifying aspects is the speed and success of a small number of small organisations in achieving major influence over public bodies, politicians and officials. How has a certain idea taken hold in so many places so swiftly?

People and organisations that at the start of this decade had no clear policy on or even knowledge of trans issues are now enthusiastically embracing non-binary gender identities and transition, offering gender-neutral toilets and other changes required to accommodate trans people and their interests. These changes have, among other things, surprised many people. They wonder how this happened, and why no one seems to have asked them what they think about it, or considered how those changes might affect them.

Some of the bodies that have embraced these changes with the greatest zeal are surprising: the police are not famous social liberals but many forces are now at the vanguard here, even to the point of checking our pronouns and harassing elderly ladies who say the wrong thing on Twitter.

How did we get here? I think we can discount the idea that this is a simple question of organisations following a changing society. Bluntly, society still doesn’t know very much about transgenderism. If you work in central London in certain sectors, live in a university town (or at a university) or have children attending a (probably middle-class) school, you might have some direct acquaintance. But my bet is that most people don’t know any trans people and don’t have developed views about how the law should evolve with regards to their status.

So the question again: how did organisations with small budgets and limited resources achieve such stunning success, not just in the UK but elsewhere?

Well, thanks to the legal website Roll On Friday, I have now seen a document that helps answer that question.

The document is the work of Dentons, which says it is the world’s biggest law firm; the Thomson Reuters Foundation, an arm of the old media giant that appears dedicated to identity politics of various sorts; and the International Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer and Intersex Youth & Student Organisation (IGLYO). Both Dentons and the Thomson Reuters Foundation note that the document does not necessarily reflect their views.

The report is called 'Only adults? Good practices in legal gender recognition for youth'. Its purpose is to help trans groups in several countries bring about changes in the law to allow children to legally change their gender, without adult approval and without needing the approval of any authorities. 'We hope this report will be a powerful tool for activists and NGOs working to advance the rights of trans youth across Europe and beyond,' says the foreword.

As you’d expect of a report co-written by the staff of a major law firm, it’s a comprehensive and solid document, summarising law, policy and 'advocacy' across several countries. Based on the contributions of trans groups from around the world (including two in the UK, one of which is not named), it collects and shares 'best practice' in 'lobbying' to change the law so that parents no longer have a say on their child’s legal gender.

In the words of the report:

“'It is recognised that the requirement for parental consent or the consent of a legal guardian can be restrictive and problematic for minors.'

You might think that the very purpose of parenting is, in part, to 'restrict' the choices of children who cannot, by definition, make fully-informed adult choices on their own. But that is not the stance of the report.

Indeed, it suggests that 'states should take action against parents who are obstructing the free development of a young trans person’s identity in refusing to give parental authorisation when required.'

In short, this is a handbook for lobbying groups that want to remove parental consent over significant aspects of children’s lives. A handbook written by an international law firm and backed by one of the world’s biggest charitable foundations.

And how do the authors suggest that legal change be accomplished?

I think the advice is worth quoting at length, because this is the first time I’ve actually seen this put down in writing in a public forum. And because I think anyone with any interest in how policy is made and how politics works should pay attention.

Here’s a broad observation from the report about the best way to enact a pro-trans agenda:

“'While cultural and political factors play a key role in the approach to be taken, there are certain techniques that emerge as being effective in progressing trans rights in the "good practice" countries.'

Among those techniques: 'Get ahead of the Government agenda.'

What does that mean? Here it is in more detail:

“'In many of the NGO advocacy campaigns that we studied, there were clear benefits where NGOs managed to get ahead of the government and publish progressive legislative proposal before the government had time to develop their own. NGOs need to intervene early in the legislative process and ideally before it has even started. This will give them far greater ability to shape the government agenda and the ultimate proposal than if they intervene after the government has already started to develop its own proposals.'

That will sound familiar to anyone who knows how a Commons select committee report in 2016, which adopted several positions from trans groups, was followed in 2017 by a UK government plan to adopt self-identification of legal gender. To a lot of people, that proposal, which emerged from Whitehall looking quite well-developed, came out of the blue.

Anyway, here’s another tip from the document: 'Tie your campaign to more popular reform.'

For example:

'In Ireland, Denmark and Norway, changes to the law on legal gender recognition were put through at the same time as other more popular reforms such as marriage equality legislation. This provided a veil of protection, particularly in Ireland, where marriage equality was strongly supported, but gender identity remained a more difficult issue to win public support for.'

I’ve added my bold there, because I think those are very telling phrases indeed. This is an issue that is 'difficult to win public support for' and best hidden behind the 'veil of protection' provided by a popular issue such as gay rights. Again, anyone who has even glanced at the UK transgender debate will recognise this description.

Another recommendation is even more revealing: 'Avoid excessive press coverage and exposure.'

According to the report, the countries that have moved most quickly to advance trans rights and remove parental consent have been those where the groups lobbying for those changes have succeeded in stopping the wider public learning about their proposals. Conversely, in places like Britain, the more 'exposure' this agenda has had, the less successful the lobbying has been:

'Another technique which has been used to great effect is the limitation of press coverage and exposure. In certain countries, like the UK, information on legal gender recognition reforms has been misinterpreted in the mainstream media, and opposition has arisen as a result. ….Against this background, many believe that public campaigning has been detrimental to progress, as much of the general public is not well informed about trans issues, and therefore misinterpretation can arise.

In Ireland, activists have directly lobbied individual politicians and tried to keep press coverage to a minimum in order to avoid this issue.' (Emphasis added).

Although it offers extensive advice about the need to keep the trans-rights agenda out of the public’s gaze, the report has rather less to say about the possibility that advocates might just try doing what everyone else in politics does and make a persuasive argument for their cause. Actually convincing people that this stuff is a good idea doesn’t feature much in the report, which runs to 65 pages.

I’m not going to tell you what I think of the report, or the agenda it sets out. I’m not going to pass comment on it or its authors. I’m just going to try to summarise its nature and contents.

A major international law firm has helped write a lobbying manual for people who want to change the law to prevent parents having the final say about significant changes in the status of their own children. That manual advises those lobbying for that change to hide their plans behind a 'veil' and to make sure that neither the media nor the wider public know much about the changes affecting children that they are seeking to make. Because if the public find out about those changes, they might well object to them.

I started my first job as a researcher in the Commons in 1994. I’ve been studying and writing about politics and policy ever since. And in my experience of how changes in the law are brought about, the approach described in that report is simply not normal or usual. In a democracy, we are all free to argue for whatever policy or position we wish. But normally, anyone who wants to change the law accepts that to do so they need to win the support or, at least, the consent of the people whose authority ultimately gives the law its force. The approach outlined, in detail, in the Dentons report amounts to a very different way of lobbying to get the laws and policies you want. Even more notably, it suggests that in several countries people have been quite successful in lobbying behind a 'veil' and in a way that deliberately avoids the attention of the public. That, I think, should interest anyone who cares about how politics and policy are conducted, whether or not they care about the transgender issue.

I’m going to conclude with an observation I’ve made here before, but which I think bears repeating in the context of that report and the things it might tell people about other aspects of the trans issue: no policy made in the shadows can survive in sunlight.

[rivalsforlife]

What're your exact thoughts on AA5?

ooh anon are you sure you want me to get into this?

It’s... complicated? Like, as a game on it’s own, it... still has MAJOR flaws but it’s not too bad. As a sequel to AA4? Pretty terrible. 

I guess let’s start with that angle. What makes me angriest about AA5 is that it kind of... completely erased any chance of proper closure to some of the story arcs and themes that AA4 opened up. Like, people will try to claim 456 as a “trilogy”, but it’s nowhere near cohesive enough to pass as one. AA5 pretty much pushed Apollo (who was supposed to “succeed” Phoenix as the protagonist, being kinda the point of the case literally called Turnabout Succession) to a secondary character role. It shoved Trucy completely out of the spotlight so her only role was to hang around the office and then get kidnapped once (which has such little role in the story it’s completely forgettable). It completely abandoned Klavier and had him come back as a kind of bland “ja achtung herr forehead I’m a rockstar ;)” character who only shows up to play a minor role in a minor case. In contrast with, say, how JFA treats the major cast from the first game (consistent protagonist, Maya having a bigger role and more of her history and family drama explored, Miles getting huge amounts of character development and being a major part of the emotional arc) it is an extreme letdown. It also just automatically brings back Phoenix as the protagonist and... doesn’t even touch on the lasting consequences of his disbarment? Not even just the “he became a lawyer again right away and doesn’t really bring up the effect disbarment had on him” kind of thing, but the story itself kind of forgets about him being disbarred. For a game entirely about the public’s perception of the legal system being in the dumpster, not one person ever questions Phoenix’s eligibility as a lawyer or whether he forged the evidence. Like, sure, he was cleared of all charges, but that doesn’t mean that the public would automatically see him as innocent, especially considering his massive influence over the trial that essentially proved his innocence! Like, “oh, you practically ran this trial that said you didn’t forge evidence? Okay, we love you, you’re a hero.”

And I do love Athena, and I like her overall story with Simon, I like them both as characters and I like their general plotline. I just think it came in at a veeeery bad time. Adding Athena as a protagonist in the same game you add Phoenix back as a protagonist means that not only do none of the protagonists end up with the sole focus of the game for their development, but also her major role in the plot pushes back any chance for exploring the story of AA4. Athena gets a joint protagonist-assistant type role, so Trucy isn’t necessary anymore, since the only assistant role is filled by one of the other lawyers. So, no Trucy development. And as a protagonist she is immediately overshadowed by Phoenix in the very first case.

I... like to think the first case is a very good example of DD, because it starts with Athena being immediately overshadowed by Phoenix who is back to his normal trilogy self, and Apollo ends up bleeding on the ground.

I mean, in some ways, I get it, because this is a game that was written six years after Apollo Justice and had a completely new writing team, not to mention being on a completely different console, so already making a direct sequel to AJ would be complicated considering that a decent amount of the people buying the game possibly would have never played an AA game before (considering the 3DS ports weren’t there at the time.) And apparently Phoenix’s characterization in AJ, and AJ in general, was poorly received, so from a marketing standpoint they did kinda need to abandon as much as they could. But from a story standpoint, it’s really bad.

There’s also the issues with the plot in general, namely the “Dark Age of the Law”. Because... the law has been TERRIBLE in this series for as long as the series was around. If there’s a Dark Age, it’s been going on for a looooong time. And, of course, there’s no real way that Phoenix’s disbarment and Simon’s arrest were what initiated this Dark Age, because the people who have ALREADY been arrested should have been much, much worse. Like we’re talking about an undefeated prosecutor known for forging evidence, the Chief of Police, another prosecutor being accused of murder, not to mention the investigations games tackling down an ambassador and the former Chief Prosecutor/ head of the committee that’s SUPPOSED to stop corruption. After all that, the breaking point is a defense attorney and some rookie prosecutor?

(One good explanation is what Saturation’s take on this all happening is, but considering the games haven’t said it was like this...)

Also again with the issue of Phoenix’s disbarment. The game assumes that once Simon is cleared (in an unofficial trial) and Phoenix’s name is cleared (again in an unconventional trial) the public is magically going to start trusting in the legal system again. ... Good luck with that. There’s no way that’s going to happen.

And there’s also a lot of wasted opportunities with the whole “the ends justifies the means” nonsense in general. Like, I think I’ve talked before about how the first case of Apollo Justice pretty much embodies the “the ends justifies the means” approach. The evidence has been destroyed by the true culprit, and the only way to have them safely convicted is to present forged evidence: what then? Or even RFTA’s “there isn’t any evidence that this person is the culprit, but we KNOW they are, and if they continue to get away then they could hurt people, so isn’t forging evidence the right thing to do?” It’s a complicated morally grey thing they can dig into, but instead, DD goes for the “but I want to present forged evidence to win!!” which everyone can agree is wrong. 

(It’s also incredibly ironic that Athena talks about “Mr. Wright is going to bring us out of this dark age!” right in the middle of the third case when confronting Means, when, you know, Phoenix used the EXACT “ends justifies the means” approach just a year later. but you know, no one’s going to say anything about that, because Phoenix Wright is perfect and can do no wrong.)

Plus thematically the game is all over the place. Unlike say the second investigations game which had a solid theme about “bonds between people” with a focus on “bonds between parent and child”, I... can’t really figure out what the overall theme of DD is. When I replayed the game prior to UR-1 incident, I could come up with about like five things that they maybe focused on in the last case but none of them were concrete enough to be called the overall theme. Incredible that the game was written two years after the one with one of the most solid overall themes! 

Also, the villain was weak overall; they were TOO unpredictable and the fact that absolutely no one noticed something was off with him (particularly not the girl who can literally read emotions) was rough. Everyone immediately turning on him despite the exact same case talking about believing in your friends even if there is evidence against them is a little weird. And their motives, whatever organization they worked for, it’s all unknown (and completely abandoned in the next game, of course, so we’ll never know.) Which may be the point, not everything NEEDS to be solved, but the fact that none of the characters ever express concern about this (like why an international spy who killed someone to impersonate them has a realistic mask of Phoenix’s face) is also weird.

... This is a lot of negativity. Uh, there are things I do like, I swear. I like Athena and Simon, I like uhh... the soundtrack... ... ... you know I do like the game a lot more when I am in the process of playing it. Despite the undoubtable fanservice that was Miles’ appearance (OH THAT’S ANOTHER NEGATIVE THING, I didn’t like how Athena didn’t have a major role in the Phantom’s takedown despite that being the guy who killed her mom) I like being able to see Miles and I like seeing what comfortable terms he’s on with Phoenix now. Some elements of the individual cases were lots of fun (the father-daughter relationship in the second case, the focus on the friendship in the third case, and I enjoyed the DLC case overall.) ... This has gone on long enough, so I’ll leave it at that!