#i can have fried eggs!! (most of the time)

[official-susie-deltarune]

okay i think i really gotta stop having scrambled eggs because oh god The Consequences

[genderqueerdykes]

i want to take the time to talk about a series of disabilities that no one takes seriously or even recognizes as a disability, which is food intolerances, and allergies. if a person can get sick if they eat the wrong foods, they are disabled, as this illness will make them unable to function all because they ate the wrong food. it's not okay to guilt someone for seeking foods that won't injure them.

in 2022, i began to lose my ability to digest land meats (pork, chicken, cow, etc.), animal milks, and eggs. it started slowly but quickly progressed to every type of land meat. i am only able to digest seafood, plants, nuts, seeds safely without becoming horribly sick. i tried to buy cow's milk because it is cheaper recently and became so ill it was genuinely traumatic. i have never been that sick in my life before. i cannot safely ingest cow's milk, the cheaper option, because it will injure me for several days or even weeks at a time. this happens to me with all land meats as well.

i cannot eat eggs. i cannot fried rice that has egg, i cannot eat most sauces like mayo or ranch dressing because of their high egg content. i cannot eat anything dressed in mayo as a sauce. anything that is baked or brushed or washed with egg is a risk. my digestive system really hates eggs in particular and they are inescapable.

people who can't digest or process lactose, gluten, meats, seafood, eggs, nuts, seeds, beans, fiber, certain fats, proteins or sugars don't have their needs considered very often, nor taken seriously, especially when that person is poor. people with digestive issues need to be able to eat foods that don't hurt us- it's not our faults that alternative milks, breads, pizzas, snacks, sauces, dips, spreads, meats and more are significantly more expensive. we still need to be able to eat foods that don't harm us regardless of how much money we make.

[elodieunderglass]

Elodie thank you so much for your US-UK translation research but I have to ask WHAT do you mean fried eggs are cooked differently? How many ways are there to fry an egg?

Reference here: https://www.tumblr.com/elodieunderglass/771840932030054400/i-cant-let-you-guys-continue-this-conversation

Yep, I can explain this easily

In the USA, fried eggs are cooked in butter and flipped. If you don’t flip, it’s called “sunny side up.” There is much talk of cooking them slowly. There is a belief, unfounded by any evidence, that there is a way to make sunny side up eggs that have FULLY cooked white and a runny yolk (I don’t think I have ever actually witnessed this, UsAmerican sunny side up usually has some amount of snotty white that you’re just expected to live with, or the yolk is not runny. Sometimes people overcome this by putting a lid over it, creating a steamed fried egg.) for the flipped ones, they are flipped once by spatula and left alone.

In the UK, you start with a pan that has a reasonable volume of hot oil, into which you crack the egg. The idea is cooking it quickly. When the egg has formed its round shape, the pan is tipped and hot oil collected with a spoon. The hot oil is spooned briskly over the whites a few times, cooking them solidly. The yolk may be covered or let alone entirely. People are not offered options in restaurants, this is simply how you fry egg.

The uk fried egg often has a lacy brown crispy edge. They are often thicker. The white has more of a cuttable, solid texture. There is less of the golden-cooked underside that I like though.

Another key difference is that UK eggs are usually stored at room temperature (chickens are vaccinated for salmonella) while USA eggs must be refrigerated (salmonella is considered an unavoidable natural ingredient that can’t possibly be regulated.) This has some impact on their texture and most serious egg people suggest cooking eggs from room temperature. Eggs can also be fresher in the UK. old eggs often wander about a little when cooked , while a very fresh egg stays round.

So the typical uk fried egg is compact, with more white to slice, while a USA fried egg is more thin. (I actually like a thin fried egg more, so USA wins there.)

I don’t have a preference myself. Each has pros and cons. But they are fried differently

[fanficimagery]

The Nanny

When babysitting your neighbor's kid, trouble seems to find you.

Author's Note: SOA AU - No Tara, Clay, or Gemma. Trigger warning for violence! This was supposed to be up for Valentine's Day, but as you can see... that wasn't the case lmao.

Charming, California is one of those picture perfect little towns where everyone tries to be prim and proper, and act like their shit doesn't stink. And in the short time that you've lived here, you quickly realized that the law-abiding citizens hated the fact that Charming was home to a MC, the Sons of Anarchy.

It doesn't bother you to see them riding down the streets as you're out and about, but you do find it hilarious that a majority of the locals either gasp in outrage upon seeing the bikers or avoid them at all costs. You find the bikers very easy-going, but then again the club president is your neighbor.

Jax Teller had taken it upon himself to introduce himself when you were moving in, carrying boxes for you and flashing a rather charming smile as he pumped you for information about yourself. You knew what he was doing, and it was rather laughable, but you had nothing to hide and were a rather boring person, so you gave the information freely. Between the two of you, he was more interesting as a MC president whereas you stayed home and lived off the money your brothers made. Jax seemed interested in what your brothers did for a living that they were able to provide you with the life you have, but you explained they made their money because of the family business that provided private security for celebrities and individuals with a high profile. You helped them with scheduling, but they still did a majority of the work.

Finding out Jax has a son (Abel) makes your heart warm towards the biker, and then warm up to the club when his brothers visit every now and then. Juice was really just a goofball when he wasn't doing business for the club, Chibs was a secret sweetheart, Tig was a little crazy, Happy was hard to read, but it was Opie who was the most normal of the bunch.

You settle into your home quite nicely, working from your little office when your brothers need help to prevent any scheduling conflicts. Then in your downtime, you either have a book in hand or waste time on your gaming system. Jax and his brothers have been over a couple of times, drinking a beer to wind down or eating whatever leftovers you happen to have after you've already eaten.

This morning, however, you've just finished making breakfast when there's a knock at your front door. With a strip of bacon in hand, you answer the door and are surprised to see Jax and his son Abel standing there.

"What's up, Teller?"

He immediately smiles and your eyes narrow. "I hate to do this on such short notice, but my nanny canceled. Do you think you could watch Abel for the day?"

You glance down at the blonde boy, shrugging. "Is he cool staying with me?"

Jax glances down and nudges his son, but Abel merely asks, "Do you have more bacon?"

You open the door wider as you chuckle. "Sure, kid. You want some eggs and hashbrowns too?"

"Yum."

Abel walks into your house without a care in the world and you meet Jax's amused gaze. "So are there any rules I should abide by? Are you one of those dad's that limits screen time or bans sugar?"

"Nope and nope. No allergies either."

"Cool."

"Thank you. I owe you."

As Jax starts to walk down your porch steps, you say, "I'm a slut for food, Teller. Bribe me with food and I'll say yes to anything."

"Anything?" He peers over his shoulder and arches an eyebrow. You scowl at him.

"Almost anything."

Jax laughs. "Don't cook tonight then. I'll bring some cheeseburgers and fries from this diner that makes pretty good food."

"Alright."

. .

. .

When Jax returns later that night, Chibs and Happy follow after learning he was picking up food from the diner. What surprised them, however, was that while Jax parked in his driveway, he started taking the food to his neighbors house. But Chibs, nor Happy, said a word and followed their president with their own food when he didn't protest.

Jax is poised to knock on the door when he hears, "Don't you- don't you dare do it, kid. If you do it, I will personally wait until you turn seventeen to kick your little ass." The words give Jax pause because what the actual fuck! But then Abel's giggling makes him grin.

"Did she just threaten to kick Abel's ass, Jackie?" Chibs wonders, smirking.

"I think so."

"No, no, no! You blue-shelled me?! You're like two. How do you even know how to play this?!" Jax snorts and finally knocks. The trash talking suddenly ceases before… "It's open! If you're friendly, welcome! If not, I got a little ankle biter in here and I'm not afraid to sic him on you!"

Jax laughs some more and enters the house, walking to where he hears all the commotion. Walking into the living room, he can't help but smile at the sight of YN and Abel sitting side by side on the couch, attention focused on the TV where they're apparently playing Mario Kart.

"You bring the goods, Teller?"

"Burgers and fries as promised."

"You are currently my favorite Teller." Still your attention is on the TV, your trash talking his kid being kept very polite all of a sudden. Jax, Chibs, and Happy have no idea what's going on, but suddenly one of the characters is spinning out because of a banana peel and then Abel's giving a long, suffering sigh as the other character passes the finish line. "Yes!" You jump up, pointing down at Abel. "Sucks to suck, kid. Now come on. Your pop's got the goods."

When you finally look up at Jax, you momentarily freeze when you see Chibs and Happy there as well. "Oh. Hey, guys. Kitchen's this way."

Everyone follows you into the kitchen and you immediately grab drinks from the fridge. When you turn around, Jax is divvying up some food for himself, Abel, and you. You pass out the beers to the men and you have cans of Sprite for yourself and Abel. Then as you take the last remaining available seat since Jax kept Abel on his lap, you thank Jax for the food before digging in.

"So did you have fun today?" Jax asks his son.

"Yeah. I got to color and watch TV and play games."

Jax glances at you and you shrug. "I made do. I would have gone to the store to pick up some stuff for him, but I didn't know if you'd feel comfortable with me taking him anywhere."

"I appreciate that."

"So what about you? Is your nanny good or will you need another favor?"

"Uh, she actually might be out for a few more days."

You nod. "I can do it. Is it cool if I take him to the store with me tomorrow morning? I forgot how much little kids snack throughout the day."

"Yeah. I have an extra car seat you can use and I'll leave you some cash."

"Nah. Don't even worry about it. I'll be snacking with him, so I can front the bill."

But still, cash ends up thrown onto the table from both Chibs and Jax. You have a feeling it'd be useless to argue, so you say nothing.

After dinner, Jax helps you clean up before they all take their leave. He tells Abel to tell you goodbye and your heart absolutely melts when you crouch down, and Abel hugs you.

You visibly melt as you hug the little boy back and then pull back to tweak his nose. "Okay, you're officially my favorite Teller again."

Abel smiles at you as Jax laughs and then you bid everyone goodbye at the door.

Abel ends up preferring your company to that of his nanny, so Jax ends up splitting his son's time between the nanny at his house and you at your own house when you have nothing going on.

On this particular day, after a lunch of sandwich and chips, you and Abel are lounging in a kiddie pool right in the middle of your front yard. You even went as far to put up a canopy to have the pool half in the shade and half in the sun, and are soaking in a sports bra and a pair of black tights that look like shorts.

You're sitting in the shade, sipping on a juice box as Abel stands on the other side playing with water blasters. You hear the rumble of a motorcycle, unsurprised to have Jax checking in.

As the blonde walks up, you smile innocently as he laughs. "Where did the pool come from?"

"The store." You shrug. Abel takes the moment to load up his blaster with lukewarm water and shoots his dad with it. Jax doesn't bother dodging the stream. "We saw a commercial for the waterpark and since we can't go there, I brought the water to us."

Wiping water from his face and using it to slick his hair back, Jax crouches next to the pool and asks, "How much do I owe you?"

"Not a cent, Teller." You sip on your juice, grinning. "I haven't been in one of these since I was a kid. This is for me as much as it's for Abel. He just gave me the excuse of getting one and chilling in it without looking like an idiot."

"Well I don't know about that…"

He trails off and you gasp in mock outrage. As he laughs, you say, "You're lucky I respect the kutte and the fact that you have a phone in your pocket somewhere. If I didn't, I'd drag your butt in here with us."

"Next time." Jax splashes his son and then stands before Abel can shoot him point blank with water. "Am I grabbing dinner tonight?"

"Nah. Abel already made a request. He wants chicken tenders and fries."

"And what the little man wants, he gets?"

"Obviously." You roll your eyes playfully. "Plus, it's an easy meal and I enjoy it too."

"Alright." He chuckles as he starts making his way back towards his motorcycle. "Don't stay in the pool too long."

"Yes, sir." You mockingly salute him, lips twitching when you see him momentarily tense before relaxing once more. "See you later."

. .

. .

It's past Abel's bedtime by the time Jax makes it home, and already he's prepared for his kid to either be bouncing off the walls or very cranky. But as he nears YN's house, he notices that it's mostly dark. All the lights are off with the exception of the porch light and a couple of lamps he can see through the windows that peer into the living room. And the TV, of course.

Instead of knocking, he lets himself right in. It's almost too quiet, but he can hear the TV playing rather low in the living room. Heading there, he walks up to the sofa and can't help but smile at the sight that greets him. YN is laid out across the sofa with Abel on her chest, his back to her front. Both are knocked out cold.

Without second guessing himself, Jax pulls out his phone and snaps a quick photo. Chuckling to himself, he then walks around the sofa as he pockets his phone and crouches down. "Hey. YN," he gently calls out while shaking her shoulder.

It takes a few shakes before you wake, sleepily humming until Jax's voice coaxes you until you're fully awake. Your arms wrap around Abel on instinct and when you notice Jax's smirking presence, you relax. "What time is it?" You mumble.

"A little after ten."

"Really? Fuck. I guess the sun really did kick my ass if I'm this sleepy."

"Yeah." Jax chuckles and then carefully starts to gather Abel in his arms. "Sorry about showing up so late."

"Don't even worry about it." You sit up, rubbing your eyes and yawning. "You know I adore your kid." As you follow Jax to the door, you remind him about going away for a week and not being able to watch Abel, but that you'll have your phone on if Abel wants to talk.

Jax laughs. "I swear, my kid loves you more than me sometimes."

"It's only because I'm a better cook," you muse.

Jax opens his mouth to argue, but ends up shutting it and shrugging. "You're not wrong there."

As Jax then exits your home, you bid him goodnight and watch until he disappears into his home.

When you explained to Jax that your brothers made their money because of the family business that provided private security for celebrities and individuals with a high profile, you weren't lying. Nor did you lie when you also explained you helped them with scheduling for said high profile individuals.

What you chose to leave out, however, was that your family had such a great record with security because no one wanted to fuck with a family who had connections to two different cartels through your dearly departed parents.

However, before you settled into the calm life of personal security, your brothers made a name for yourselves as ruthless hitmen amongst the cartels and you… you were a little unhinged when you were caught up in the moment as one of their torturers. You worked for the cartels when they needed you to, but when you and your brothers wanted to distance yourselves, it was the cartels who helped set up your security business.

The week spent with your brothers is just to visit and catch up with those who all three of you came to see as uncles. It was most definitely not supposed to end up with you being caught off guard by a fist to the face. Someone who didn't know all what you were capable of took advantage of the fact that you were a woman who was close to big names within the cartels. They thought you to be easily taken down and used as leverage, but what they didn't count on was you hiding daggers on your persons. The fight was dirty and bloody, and by the end of it you were spitting mad.

You have the urge to carve into someone that your brothers are trying to quell for once when your phone rings. You pull out your phone mid-pacing, and then freeze upon seeing Jax's name on the screen. But it's not a normal call- it's a video call.

"Fuck."

"What?" Your elder brother asks. "Who is it?"

"It's my neighbor. Most likely his kid Abel since I babysit him most of the time." Your brothers glance at each other and you roll your eyes. "I've told you about them. Now toss me my hoodie. I can't let them see my face like this."

Before the call ends, you answer it but make sure to angle the camera away from the bruised side of your face. "Hey, Jax, give me one sec," you say. Your brother tosses you a hoodie and you quickly pull it on after setting your phone down. Then you take a seat at the kitchen table, turning off a few lights so it's a little darker and you can hide within your hood. Picking up your phone and keeping only half your face on camera, you smile. "Hey, guys, miss me?"

Jax's smile falters, but Abel immediately starts talking, telling you all about his day with his dad. He tells you he misses your food and play time, and you assure him you'll be home soon. You tell him about hanging out with your own family and even make your brothers wave at the camera when you switch it on them. Abel's little voice telling them hi makes you smile and then Jax is telling Abel to go watch some TV before bed.

Left alone with Jax on the phone, his smile vanishes. "What happened?"

"What do you mean?" You refuse to meet either of your brothers' gazes as you can feel them staring at you. "Everything's fine."

"Bullshit." Your brothers snort and you huff. Very reluctantly, you pull your hood down and maneuver the camera so it catches your full face. Jax's expression hardens. "Fuck."

"Don't worry. It looks worse than it is."

"What the fuck happened?"

You shrug and quickly glance at your brothers, but they're back to doing their own thing. "Went out drinking with the family and got caught in a brawl. It's been handled."

"So I don't have to gather the boys and kick some ass?"

His words make you huff a laugh. "Nah. I'm pretty sure I put the guy in a hospital."

"You took down a dude?! Now that's hot. I wish I could have seen that."

Uncaring that they're eavesdropping, your brothers burst out laughing and you sigh. You can't help but smile and you end up rolling your eyes when Jax laughs too. "Whatever. How's Abel really doing? Is he driving his official nanny insane yet?"

"Not really. He's just moping around."

"Aww." You coo. "Well I should be home soon. I'll take him to the park or something."

Jax's teasing smile turns genuine. "You know, I've never told you this, but I appreciate everything you do for Abel. You don't have to do anything, but you still treat him like family."

"What can I say? I like kids." You shrug. "And my idiot brothers will never give me any nieces or nephews."

"Hey!" Both your brothers protest.

You grin at them before looking back at Jax on your phone. "I should get going though. We have a meeting with the uncles here in a bit and I need to get ready."

"Alright. No more fights unless I'm there to avenge you. I can't have my favorite girl looking like she's in an abusive relationship."

Snorting, you say, "No promises. Tell Abel goodnight for me and to come up with a plan for what he wants to do when I get back home."

"Will do. See you soon."

As soon as you hang up, your brothers start making teasing kissing noises. "Oh shut the fuck up."

Valentine's Day has never been a day that you really cared for. Sure it was sweet to see teenagers and kids swap gifts and/or cards, or to buy candy half off, but it didn't bother you to have a significant other on this day. But you do remember how good it felt to get a gift as a kid, so you want to make sure Abel has a good day.

With your time spent with Abel, you've come to know that he loves certain fruits and chocolate. So after heading to the store for a quick shopping trip, you return home with strawberries, bananas, and melting chocolate. Then after cleaning the strawberries and chopping up some bananas, you dip them all in the ooey-gooey chocolate before letting them harden while fixing up a white dessert box with edges that say Happy Valentine's Day.

You've just filled the box with chocolate covered fruit when your phone rings and you can't help but smile at the name. You're no stranger to how handsome Jax is, but you know better than to go there with him.

"Hey, Teller, to what do I owe the pleasure of your hot voice?" You immediately answer.

Jax's laughter meets your ear before, "While it's nice to hear you like my voice, I'm actually calling on behalf of Abel."

"Aw. What does my favorite Teller need?"

"You know I'm your favorite Teller, YN." You hum, not denying his words. "But Abel is requesting your appearance here at the shop because he has a very important question to ask you."

"A very important question?" You muse. "What does Abel have to…" You trail off, the amusement in Jax's voice suddenly making something make sense. "His question doesn't happen to coincide with what today is, does it?"

Jax chuckles. "I am not ruining the surprise."

"I swear to God, Jax, if I end up crying I'm going to kick your ass."

"I look forward to it. Now get pretty and get your ass over here. Do not break my kid's heart."

"Never. And I'm always pretty, Teller."

"...yeah. You are." Your eyes widen at his words, but you don't say anything. Jax then clears his throat. "I'll see you soon."

"Y-Yeah. I'll be there in ten."

You can feel yourself blushing as you hang up, but quickly put it out of your mind as you hurry to your room to get dressed. You pull on a black sundress that's covered in sunflowers, the flowy skirt hitting right above your knees. You step into some black wedge sandals and quickly tie your hair up in a messy ponytail. You apply the basic amount of makeup and spritz some perfume around your body.

Heading downstairs, you throw all your necessities into a purse and then grab Abel's box of chocolate covered fruit before heading out.

The drive to Teller Automotive isn't a very long one, and you're soon parking in the lot. You leave your purse in the car, but you keep your box of fruits in hand. You get several wolf whistles as you cross the parking lot, but you merely laugh off Tig and Chibs' teasing.

Before you can enter the auto garage, Jax walks out, a smirk in place. And then before you can ask him what he's smirking for, your gaze is drawn downward to Abel who walks out behind him… and oh. You fuckin' melt.

Abel's hair is slicked into a faux hawk, a red bow tie is clipped to the very crisp white button shirt that's tucked into a pair of tiny faded jeans. In his hands he's holding a teddy bear that's adorned with a miniature Sons of Anarchy kutte, and a red carnation. The adorableness of it all makes you melt and tear up at how cute he is.

"Oh my goodness. You look so handsome," you tell him.

As you crouch so you're more at his level, you make sure the skirt of your dress still covers everything. Abel blushes as he asks, "Will you be my Valentine?"

"Hell yes I will." Abel smiles as he hands over your gifts, and Jax and the others- who were apparently listening in- whoop in celebration. "And as my Valentine, it's only fair that I give a gift as well. Strawberries and bananas covered in chocolate. Your favorite," you tell him.

Abel is so ecstatic over his gift that he nearly knocks you over as he hugs you. When Chibs ask him what he's got, he's more than happy to run off and show his uncles what you've given him. Jax offers you a hand up and as soon as you're steady on your feet, you notice him looking at you in a certain way.

"What?" You huff a laugh, carefully wiping away your tears that never fully fell.

"You are amazing, you know that?"

"Hardly. Tiny Teller is just adorable as hell." You can feel yourself starting to blush so you glance down at the teddy in your hand. "Where did you find a tiny kutte anyway?"

"It's actually Abel's. The guys had it made for him when he was born and he wanted your teddy to have it."

"I'll take extra care of it then." When you glance back at Jax, you ask, "So does Abel have to stay or can I take my valentine out on a date?" You have no idea what Jax had been thinking, but it's like your words make him snap. From one second to next, he goes from staring at you in awe to gently grasping your face and pulling you into a kiss. You gasp but quickly return the sentiment. And when Jax pulls back, still cupping your face in his hands, you ask, "So me wanting to take your kid out on a date really did it for you, huh?"

Jax barks out a laugh and you smile as he leans in for another quick kiss. "Been wanting to do that for a while actually."

"And you waited until this moment to do it," you muse. "Jokes on you though. You gotta stick around and listen to your boys tease you about this while I take Abel out all on my lonesome." You kiss him for a third time and then step out of his reach to holler, "Little Teller, let's go! It's you and me, buddy. Whatever you wanna do."

As Abel approaches with a lot less fruit, he asks, "Can we eat pizza in the park?"

"We sure can. Now say goodbye to your dad so we can go stuff our faces."

Dating Jax Teller is rather thrilling. You do not care to know what goes on in the club unless it pertains to any woman trying to sleep with him, or when Jax needs someone to vent to. Then, and only then, do you let your opinion be known about what goes on with the MC.

But while you have nothing against the MC, you still prefer to spend a majority of your time with Abel. Sure you'll show up to some parties so all the other women know Jax is off limits, but you're content to do activities with little Teller wherever he wants to be for the day.

You thought it was cute Jax tried to shield you from the violence the club was capable of, but never pressed him for information when you noticed he looked stressed about something. This time, however, you wish you had pressed him for information when he asked you to stay in with Abel.

It's nighttime, and you and Abel are relaxing in front of your TV as you watch some new Pixar film about dragons and their riders. The two of you are dozing off when your front door is kicked in, which then makes you jump into action. But you're not just defending yourself, you have a little boy to think about. So before you can find a proper weapon, you're left standing in front of Abel who is now clinging to your leg as he whimpers in fear.

"Jax Teller chose a pretty one this time."

"Fuck off."

The men all chuckle in front of you. "Take her."

. .

. .

The Sons of Anarchy roll up to a subdivision that's still in development, cautiously dismounting their motorcycles and arming themselves. A new MC had established themselves in a neighboring town, looking to make a name for themselves, and they thought knocking down the Sons a peg or ten was what they ought to do to establish their foothold in the MC world for good.

The encroaching MC took to ambushing the Sons whenever and wherever, and the people of Charming were starting to become afraid of strolling their pristine streets. Even the Sheriff was looking to the Sons to end the conflict, but they could only do so much. Unfortunately, one of the fights involved a chase on motorcycles as the Sons were making a run, and the son of the enemy President took a bullet to the right side of his chest and fell. His injuries then resulted in a coma which set off to this little meeting.

As they creep through the eerily quiet streets of the deserted subdivision, Opie flanks Jax. "I don't like this, brother. Something feels off."

"I agree," Chibs says. "We should have put the club on lockdown before ridin' out."

Jax sighs. "Too late now."

Juice, Happy, and Tig jog up to homes still under construction, trying the doors or looking for any signs that someone's been there. It isn't until they get to the end of the block that they notice one home has been vandalized and they know that's where they're supposed to go.

Every Son cautiously enters the house, nose wrinkling as the state of the house. But in the middle of the living room, there's an odd clearing around a small round table. And on that table sits a folded notecard.

The Sons seem to freeze, but then Jax is marching towards the note. Snatching it up, the words written make him tense as his world starts to tilt. "Fuck. They're going after Abel."

As the note flutters to the floor, the Sons all race after their President as he flees the house.

The note read, [A son for a son.]

On the way to YN's, Jax instructs half the Sons to break off and check on the club, while also making calls to get everyone on an official lockdown. Jax, Opie, Chibs, and Happy race to his neighbor's house.

When they pull up, a few neighbors are peering out their doors looking a bit distraught. Immediately, they know something terrible has happened, and that feeling is only intensified when they spot the broken down door.

Rushing to park in YN's front yard, guns are pulled from the back waistband of their jeans. Jax takes point as he enters the house and his heart drops to his stomach. The house is an absolute mess, furniture and glass broken.

The TV is still playing some cartoon movie and when he walks further in, he curses at the sight of a body laying in a pool of blood.

Happy peers over his shoulder. "Now we know she can hold her own."

"Find them. Now."

. .

. .

Sitting in the bathtub, Abel clings to you as his face hides against the side of your neck. Your face hurts from the numerous punches you took, your lip is split, your arms have multiple lacerations, and there's blood dripping into your eyes. But your worst wound is definitely the bullet wound to the left of your abdomen, and you're grateful that Abel's weight is putting pressure on the towel you had pressed against the wound.

It's been quiet for what seems like forever, but suddenly you hear movement. Shakily raising the gun you'd taken from one of the intruders, you take aim and dare the next motherfucker who enters to be someone intending harm on you or the boy in your lap.

The door gently swings open, but no one is there. Your arm hurts from holding the gun up and then you see someone try to peer around the door jamb. You can only partially see his face, but the voice- you recognize the voice even if you rarely hear it when you're at the club.

"Baby girl?"

"...Hap?"

The stoic man steps fully in the doorway, putting his gun away as you drop yours in the tub. Abel shifts as he whimpers and you wince. "Jax! Upstairs bathroom!"

Abel realizes his uncle's voice and dad's name, so he moves to turn. Happy is quick to lift him, his eyes widening at the blood soaking his clothes. "S'fine. My blood," you tiredly tell him. "I didn't… I didn't let them touch him."

"You did real good." Happy's assurance makes you smile, but you're just so tired. As your eyes slide shut, you hear, "Hey! Don't do that. Stay awake, YN."

"Tryin'…" Pounding footsteps race up the stairs and it isn't long until Jax, Chibs, and Opie are pushing their way into the bathroom as well. Jax takes Abel right away, eyes scanning the room before they land on you. Happy and Opie move to help you out of the tub, but Chibs is quick to point out your bleeding wound. The last words you say are, "Call my brothers," before darkness consumes you."

. .

. .

Jax is pacing the hospital waiting room, blood covering his shirt and hands from where he carried Abel. Chibs had taken Abel back to the club to clean him up and fill in the others about what was going on, but now he's back and filling in the Sheriff about what they had walked in on at YN's house. Thankfully Jax and YN's neighbors liked them, and were honest about hearing gunshots before the Sons had frantically rolled up.

Opie and Happy are the only two sitting patiently, but their attention is drawn to a large group of men entering the room. Two men in particular glance around before making a beeline for Jax, but the others hang back by the door. It's evident these men mean business as they stand guard, their suits standing out among the scrubs, kuttes, and regular clothing of the others sitting in the waiting room.

When Jax notices the newcomers, his shoulders sag at the sight of YN's brothers. But his interest is piqued with the suited thugs behind the brothers, tattoos visible along their hands and neck.

The brothers quickly introduce themselves as Noah and Theo, both of their expressions grim.

"What happened?" Noah asks. He's the elder of the two, his muscled torso covered in a button down with their sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"They were after my kid," Jax immediately tells them, voice low. "She took a bullet for him and she's in surgery right now."

Both brothers' jaws clench.

"Do you know who they are?" Theo asks, tapping away on his phone.

"Yeah. It's another MC. They attacked us on a run and the son of the President took a fall off his bike. He's in a coma, so the President went after my kid in return."

"And your kid was in the care of our sister," Noah realizes.

"Yes."

Noah sighs, running a hand down his face. Then after a few more taps and texts, Theo grins. "Found them."

Jax frowns. "Found who?"

"The people responsible for putting our sister in the hospital."

Jax then tenses. "This is club business, man. We'll handle it."

Both Noah and Theo tense, but end up chuckling. Jax's jaw clenches, but he keeps his anger in check.

Noah says, "If you think it'll remain club business when YN wakes up, then that means my sister hasn't confessed the family secret."

Jax freezes. "What secret?"

"We had to get our start somewhere when our parents died," Theo tells him. "And it just so happened that each of our parents came from very powerful, very wealthy families. We worked our way to the top of the food chain and became rather notorious until we wanted out and settled into the business we currently have."

Noah starts to smirk. "Your club business just became cartel business, my friend. And our uncles are livid that their little girl was attacked."

Jax glances at his boys, but says nothing.

"We'll find them and keep them occupied," Theo says. "When YN is released, she'll be out for blood."

"And she'll get it," Noah muses. "After all, she is quite the little torturer."

When you wake up, you're unsurprised to find Jax by your bedside. You are surprised, however, to learn that he knows about your past thanks to your brothers promising bloodshed. You groan, but then remember Abel. And after assurances that Abel is fine, you relax.

You're anxious to know where you stand with Jax as he explains why you ended up in the hospital. He feels guilty for not telling you what was really going on or putting you on lockdown, along with the club, but you don't blame him for what happened. Dating the President of an MC, you were bound to be pulled into the violence sooner or later, and with your past you knew you could handle it.

When he runs out of steam, it's your turn to start apologizing for not telling him about your life with the cartels. You make sure he knows that you would have never endangered Abel, and if your past had come calling, you would have made sure that they were protected at all costs. Jax assures you he's not mad, but he did wish you would have told him given you knew about the roles some of his brothers played in the club.

But what's done is done, and Jax is more interested in what you plan on doing since your brothers have gone quiet after calling him to inform him that they've got a majority of the MC tucked away in a building that no one can hear the impending mayhem.

"They broke into my home and put a bullet in me just to get to Abel and send a message to you," you say, expression turning thunderous. "The one who shot me doesn't get to walk away. Hell, the ones who fuckin' raised a gun in Abel's direction are lucky that they'll be limping away after I'm done."

"Limping away?"

You slowly smirk at him, lowering your voice. "I'm not gonna draw out my punishment, but my brothers and my uncles' men sure as shit ain't gonna sit back. They're gonna make sure they get the message that they fucked with the wrong people."

Jax huffs a laugh and then ends up staying for as long as the nurses would let him, only leaving when YN's brothers came or he had to go pick up Abel so he'd see that YN was fine for himself.

Then after two and a half days, you're released.

You're still sore, but you've got nothing but vengeance on your mind. When your brothers send you the address of where they're holding several individuals for you to interrogate, you get dressed and head for Teller Automotive.

Some of the guys are surprised to see you up and about, but you wave off their concern as you continue towards the club portion of the shop.

The usual sweetbutts are milling about, cleaning up and most likely getting ready for a party since it is a Friday. You spot Jax and Juice at the bar as Juice taps away on a laptop.

"Boys," you greet as you walk up behind them. "Whatcha workin' on?"

Jax turns in his seat, eyes subtly widening as he stands. "You're out! Why didn't you call me?" He's quick to carefully take you in his arms, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

"Because if I'd have called you, you'd have taken me home and coddled me."

"Well yeah. You were shot."

"I got shit to take care of, Teller, and I'm not wasting another day."

"Then what are you doing here?"

You shrug. "I just thought that you'd want to see the MC face their consequences."

"Now? You're going to do that now?" He asks, his gaze darting down to your covered abdomen.

"Yep. "My brothers procured a place just on the outskirts of Charming where we won't be interrupted. You in?"

"Well, yeah. Obviously."

"Good. Then gather whoever's in and follow me."

As you sit in your car, you watch Jax as speaks with several of brothers to see who he's going to leave in charge. And after everything is settled, only five follow Jax to their motorcycles- Opie, Happy, Juice, Tig, and Chibs.

You start your car and start to drive, pausing by the gate until Jax and the others start to roll out. You take off, keeping your speed down as you drive through the town. But the moment you get to the road leading out of Charming, you step on the gas and race towards the location your brothers sent to you.

You drive along an empty stretch of road until you turn down a dirt road which is surrounded by empty crop fields that have seen better days. The road leads up to a dilapidated farmhouse, a very rusted horse corral, and behind all that is a barn where several vehicles have parked.

You park and get out, waiting for Jax to find the perfect spot to park their motorcycles. Once they do, you wait until they gather around.

"I know this started off as club business, but now it's cartel business. I can't have you questioning me in there."

"This is your playground," Jax says. "We're just here for a show."

You nod and then turn towards the barn doors, pushing them open with the help of Chibs and Tig when they get stuck. Inside, several men are hanging about on turned over crates or bales of hay, some even sitting at a small wooden table playing cards. Music plays softly in the background, but it's cut off the moment your presence is noticed.

Immediately, every man and woman scramble to their feet as you approach.

In the middle of the barn, there's a line of eight men with burlap sacks over their heads sitting in chairs with their wrists tied down to the armrests and ankles tied to the legs. Walking down the line of men, you snatch the sacks from their heads.

"Wakey, wakey, motherfuckers." Each man is clearly exhausted, agitated, and pissed off.

You save the MC President for last, smirking as he sneers at you. "Stupid bitch." He seethes. "Let us go. Right now."

"Bitch," you muse. "If you're going to insult me, at least call me a cunt. Or whore. Those words have much more of an impact."

"Cunt."

Your fist whips out, striking him across the face so hard that his head jerks to the side. He turns to glare back up at you, spitting blood that lands on your pant leg. "Now, now. If you're going to insult me again, at least be creative about it. Your lack of creativity is sorely disappointing." He roars at you, trying to free his wrists and feet, but you merely laugh and continue to pace in front of his men. "Now I'm sure you're all wondering why you're here and it's quite simple, really." You stop pacing, expression hardening. "You fucked with the wrong woman."

Then like a switch has been flipped, you go back to smiling and pacing, gesturing wildly as you talk. "Normally I wouldn't touch MC business with a ten foot pole, but you fuckers messed up. You broke into my home and went after a child under my care- a child that I hold very near and dear to my heart. So, now your piss poor attempt at taking over territory that doesn't belong to you has now come under cartel jurisdiction, and I will make sure that any stupid motherfuckers who dares to come after the Sons of Anarchy will pay a price."

"Fuck that. We didn't cross any cartel!"

"Oh honey," you mockingly coo as you come to a stop in front of the one who spoke. "I am part of the cartel." Turning around, you walk towards a long table and lift the cloth laying atop of it. Beneath the cloth, there's a variety of weapons. You tuck a glock into the back waistband of your jeans and then grasp a dagger in your dominant hand. Then turning to walk back towards the bound men, you smirk. "Now what I want are the assholes who attacked me and dared to point a gun at a child. You give me those men and the rest of you can walk out of here."

Silence.

Dead fuckin' silence.

"Nothing?" You chuckle. "Come on, guys. Give 'em up. I swear it's not worth protecting them. I mean, I can probably figure it out. Eyes are windows to the soul and all that rot. You might have been wearing masks, but I still remember those cowardly glints very well."

"Fuck you! I ain't no coward."

"Bingo!" You shout, pointing the tip of your blade at the culprit. Walking up to the guy, you can't help but laugh as he realizes his mistake and clamps his mouth shut. "One down, one more to go."

"I ain't telling you shit."

"No?" Switching the dagger to your other hand, you pull the glock free from behind your back. You step close to the man, taking aim at his crotch. "Are you sure about that?"

He cruelly smirks. "You're all talk and no-"

BANG!

The guy immediately starts screaming, his buddies struggling in their chairs, and you laugh. When you glance around the room, you see those you consider family chuckling and the Sons cringing in sympathy as they cover their crotches. You walk around so you're standing behind the screaming fool, swapping the dagger and gun in your hands so the dagger is back in your dominant hand. "Going once… going twice…" He continues to scream, and you sigh when no one else speaks up.

And then before anyone can comprehend what you've done, you've dragged the blade across the guy's neck.

As he gurgles on his blood and his friends shout obscenities at you, you walk around so you're standing before them once again.

"That's three of my men you've killed already," the President says. "I think fair's fair."

"I want the last one," you say. "One last guy and you're good to go."

No one says anything, but the President's expression hardens. There's a cold glint in his eye that you're very familiar with, and you know that should he walk out of these barn doors, he'll do anything and everything for revenge. "Samuel. I sent Samuel."

The Samuel in question squawks and you smile beautifully at him over the shoulder before staring at the President once more. "Harsh. Selling out your own guy like that." You saunter up to him, sighing. "But he's the thing; I hate snitches."

Then before the President can blink, you take aim and pull the trigger. The bullet hits him right between the eyebrows.

The struggling, bound men all seem to cease movement and you turn towards them. "Now that that's out of the way…" You walk back towards Samuel, scoffing at his whimpering. "You might get to live today, Sammy, but not without something to remember why messing with the Sons a big no-no."

"And w-what's that?"

You slowly smile. "Open your fist, Samuel. Lay your hand flat against the armrest."

His eyes widen as he whimpers, but he hesitantly does as you've said. Then when his hand is nice and flat, you drive your blade through the back of his hand, pinning it to the arm rest.

As he screams, you sneer at him and then start to make your way towards the Sons. On your way, you hand off your gun before coming to a stop in front of Jax and pasting on a smile as you glance at each Sons. "Who's hungry?"

"Marry me," Happy grumbles.

You laugh at him, winking, and then glance back at Jax. "You're a little psycho," he says.

"Only when the occasion calls for it. But seriously, can we go get food?"

Jax laughs as he sidles up to your side, sliding an arm along the back of your shoulders. "Do burgers sound good?"

"Burgers sound marvelous. I also want a vanilla milkshake."

"Good. We'll go grab some and surprise Abel. He's been itching to go to your house again."

"Ugh. Your kid is so adorable. But maybe let me settle in before you grab him. My abdomen is on fire and if we tell him I'm sick, maybe he won't be so hyperactive."

"Let me see."

Begrudgingly, you lift the hem of your shirt and glance down. Sure enough, you've bled through your bandages. "New plan; No Abel."

"What? But-"

"Nope." Jax squeezes you to his side as you sigh. "You're gonna go home, Chibs will follow to patch you up, and I'll go pick up some food. Abel can go one more day without seeing you."

"Boo."

The Sons chuckle.

"What about us?" Juice asks, gesturing between himself, Tig, and Happy.

"I don't care, Juice. Do whatever you want."

As they head towards their motorcycles, Jax walks you to your car.

"So, are you really okay with this?" You ask. "Okay with me and all that I'm capable of?"

"Yeah." Jax nods. "More than okay, actually. It's good to know that should shit find its way to your doorstep again, you'll handle it."

"Damn right I will." You swing around so you're standing in front of Jax, arms wrapping around his waist as his go around your shoulders. "I will protect Abel with my life again and again. Never doubt that."

"Just Abel?" His eyebrow arches.

"You're a close second," you muse. Leaning up on the tips of your toes, you peck his lips. "Now seriously. Food, Teller. I need food."

"Yeah, yeah." He kisses you again. "Go home and get settled. I'll be there soon."

[realcube]

thinking about older friends-with-benefits ukai...

OLDER FWB UKAI who memorises your favourite drinks and snacks, and always makes sure he has some in stock for when you come over. even if he needs to buy them from the wholesaler specially for you, or pretend that a salaryman's card declined when he tries to buy the last can of your favourite energy drink.

OLDER FWB UKAI who always insists you have a place to stay if you don't want to walk home in the dark, or if you just want a place to spend the night to get away from your nagging roommates — anytime you want, you can sleep at his apartment above the store. not even necessarily beside him, he'll happily sleep on his couch while you take the bed, if are more comfortable with that.

OLDER FWB UKAI who carries on as usual, when you do decide to stay the night. he's long past his days of fawning over or getting giddy at the prospect of a girl spending the night at his. when you sleep in his bedroom, with the door open a crack, you are awoken by the smell of fried eggs and protein powder. and naturally, when you sleepily lurch into his kitchen, you see he's already cooking breakfast in his apron. "morning, sunshine. i take it you slept well?" he chuckles, motioning to your bedhead.

(nsfw under the cut)

//tw & tags: nsfw, vaginal, f!reader, anal, fingering, cockwarming, slight daddy kink, degredation, praise, squirting, toys, breeding kink, food play, exhibitionism, implied age gap.

OLDER FWB UKAI who will go easy on you during your first time together, so he doesn't scare you off. oh, and also so he can sus out your limits and see what makes you tick. he'll be so gentle and doting over your precious little body while he ploughed into your pretty cunt, fondling you in all the right places and gushing on about how gorgeous and perfect you are. but if were to pay close attention — which you couldn't, since your mind was hazy with lust — you would have been able to notice signs of his true demeanour. like when he let a small "tight bitch" slip out from under his breath while you were cumming around his cock.

OLDER FWB UKAI, speaking of which, is definitely the type to talk you through it the first time. when he sees that glossed-over look in your eyes, he can tell your are getting close. and that's when he leans in and starts whispering all sorts of nasty shit. "almost there, baby. yeah, be a good girl and cum f'me, all over me. go on and make a big mess, i know you can." he'd grit while pumping into your sopping hole, his warm breath tickling the shell of your ear, "you're right th— there. shit. just fuckin' cum on me."

OLDER FWB UKAI that will not shoot his load into your pussy the first time you have sex, out of respect. he might not even do it the second time. but after that, guaranteed, your walls will never see the end of his hot seed. you'll forget what it feels like to walk around without his cum clogging up one of your orifices. whether that be his salty taste at the back of your throat, or his semen sloshing around in your ass with every step you take home, dribbling out of your puckered hole.

OLDER FWB UKAI who would be kind and gentle with his aftercare at first. taking a warm cloth to your puffy folds and wiping away any bodily fluids from your skin. he'd do the same for your face, if necessary, and help you slowly put your clothes back on, since in most instances, you were far too sore to do it yourself.

OLDER FWB UKAI that would tire of patient and kind aftercare pretty quickly. after around your tenth rendezvous, you were basically treated like a cute hole. he'd dump his sticky load into your pussy, and stain your folds and inner thighs in the process. and without a care in the world, he'd ball up your lacey panties in hands then shove them up your cunt, like some sort of make-shift plug. his merciless fingers would ensure it was right up in there, so it doesn't fall out. and he'd contently let you walk home like that, with your own panties hanging between your legs and a firm smack on the ass for a parting gift.

OLDER FWB UKAI who likes to finger you when there are customers in the store. he'll take you round behind the counter and stuff his digits into your homey pussy while processing an order, and the customer was none the wiser. he'd scan their items, input the price into the card machine and complete the transaction all while engaging in idle friendly chatter with the customer — oh, and also while his digits are knuckles-deep in your sloppy hole, curling inside you. he adored the cute, muffled noises you'd make, in attempt to choke back your real moans. and he revelled making it difficult for you by wiggling his fingers or thrusting them even slightly. he loves the way your head hangs and your legs quiver as you try desperately to hide your pleasure and not reveal your horny moans in front of a random customers.

OLDER FWB UKAI who is so much more experienced than you.. and that he reminds you of whenever he's trying to make you squirt. he's obsessed with seeing that glistening fluid pour out of you. he can't get enough of it. everytime he sees you, his aim is to make you squirt at least once; ideally on his face. and he's very adamant about it too. with his tongue stuck up your pussy, thrusting into you, he groans into your cunt, "f—fuck, doll. mmph, tastes so good. can tell your close, yeah?" he'll give your ass a reassuring squeeze when you squeal a 'yes'. his speach is obviously very distorted and slurred by your drenched pussy stuffed in his mouth, but you've gotten used to it by now. "c'monn, squirt f'me. cum all over my face. you need to, hunny, i want t' see this pretty pussy squirt. i know she can, she's done it before."

OLDER FWB UKAIwill clean up your fluids from the floor after you do eventually end up squirting all over him. or, he will make you wipe it up with a vibrator in your hole, while he watches from a chair a few feet away, anticipating your second squirt that you'll inevitably need to clean up too. depends on his mood.

OLDER FWB UKAIhires you as a weekend worker, so that you can come to his store and sit on his lap for hours on end, while his fat cock his buried inside your tight asshole. you cockwarm him for almost the entirety of your shift, as he sits, watching the news and chainsmoking. you only ever need to get up when a customer enters the store, which isn't all that often on weekends. even then, sometimes when the customer comes to the counter to check-out, you will be the one serving them and ukai will stand closely behind you, overlooking the entire process. he'll off-handedly mention to the customer that you are a 'trainee' and he's just watching to 'make sure you do it right'. but in reality, he's stood behind you with his dick still jammed up your snug asshole.

OLDER FWB UKAI who is never not horny. he'll always go for a round or two whenever you come visit him, no matter what. but truthfully, due to his age and the fact he's a heavy smoker, his stamina isn't what it used to be. so, whenever you are begging for another round but he's ready to check-out, he'll hand you the thickest carrot from the produce section and tell you to go crazy. maybe even a cucumber, if you are feeling brave.

yes this is just a hcs version of the ukai fic i wrote.. it's called recycling!

[tvgals]

mean! shopkeeper! gojo and the one time he was “mean” to his very much pregnant wife.

“babyyyy!” you whined out from the second floor of the shop. gojo smiled to himself at the sound of your voice that he could never get tired of. “coming.” gojo huffs out while walking up the stairs, his back is getting worse by the day. once he hits the top of the stairs, a putrid smell hits his nose. this face scrunches up almost immediately and he brings the collar of his shirt above his nose. “what the hell?” he calls out, hoping you also smelt this awful, awful scent.

“what?” you ask, turning around and facing gojo. oh. you were eating a pickle sandwich…with a side of fried eggs and peanut butter. “baby..” he mutters, dry heaving when the shirt falls from his face. the closer he gets, the smells worsens. “i..understand pregnancy cravings but..” he can’t even finish his sentence without running to the bathroom to, assumingely, throwing up. your eyes well up with tears, you didn’t mean to make him throw up! you place your meal on the dining room table and you “run” (the most you can do is shuffle quickly) the fastest you can at six months pregnant, to your shared bedroom. once satoru is finished with throwing up his breakfast and lunch, he stands up to look for you, the smell still lingering.

“y/n?” he calls out, quietly moving around the top floor for any sound you might make…you weren’t all that discreet, though. your cries started to get louder and louder and eventually hit satoru’s ears. oh no. he practically sprints to your shared bedroom and when he sees your sobbing figure, he kneels next to the bed and scratches your head in comfort. once you look up at him through your wet eyes, you can’t help but cry some more. “oh my goodness, baby. you gotta breathe.” gojo softly reprimands you. moving to sit next to you on the bed and pulling you into his side.

“cmon, talk to me..” satoru says, rubbing your belly. “you’re so mean!” you cry out, softly hitting his chest in your bout of frustration. “what did i do?” satoru chuckles, holding your hand in his. “you-you said im disgusting!” you cry out, but softer this time. gojo’s face scrunches up in confusion, wracking his brain to try and figure out when he ever said anything like that. “what? no i didn’t.” he says, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. “well…you implied it! you threw up everywhere!” you say, your breathing becoming steady as you reason with your husband. “oh my.” gojo smiles, rolling his eyes playfully. “no, my love. when you put pickles, fried eggs, and peanut butter together, it doesn’t make the best scent, baby.” he tells you, kissing your cheek. “i’m sorry i made you feel that way, okay? what do i have to do to make my wife feel better?” he asks, turning the tv on.

you think to yourself for a moment. you smile and your eyes light up. “you can bring my plate in here.” gojo sighs and looks over at you.

“of course.”

- sorry if this is inaccurate i’ve never been pregnant

[enjakey]

Baby Girl, You Got Desires Too

Pairing: Mob!Niki x Mob!Fem!Reader

TW/N | 14k- forbidden love, pining, yearning, you’re too good for me | some kissing, a lot of pining here and there | not much of a plot | part of the PLEASE STOP DONT STOP universe but you don’t need to read that to understand this one. Just fun Easter eggs for those who have read it | Riki is a little shit in this one (he always is), curses a lot, disrespectful to his Hyungs but you know it’s all love, emotionally unavailable

Summary: Riki started off in the mafia life a bit too young, a bit too innocent. It only made sense that he grew into who he was now- the sharpest one, physically skilled and can wield a knife and gun better than chopsticks. But when he’s tasked to teach the daughter of the Mafia world’s biggest boss, he knew he was meant to keep his distance. He couldn’t put his life, his family’s life, on the line- but for Y/N, he was willing to risk it.

I

“Riki, your hair is fried.”

Nishimura Riki, or Niki, as many called him, had a habit of dying his hair. He wasn’t sure why- it had started when he was barely a teenager. At that age, when he had suddenly been thrusted into freedom with money, he’d done a lot of things he’d come to regret- piercings, tattoos, clothing styles. The biggest of them all was introducing himself as Niki to the people he met in the industry. As he grew older, he realised how childish it was, to change his name. But changing his hair styles was something he’d never come to regret.

He always insisted that it gave him charisma- or, even better, made him look intimidating sometimes. Just like now, when his hair was bleached and eyebrows changed to match.

His Hyungs loved to make fun of him for it, especially Sunghoon. But at least they didn’t call him Niki anymore.

“Shut up, Hyung,” he rolled his eyes. And though he sounded like he spat the words with malice, Sunghoon just grinned at him.

Jay- his boss- was sprawled out on the couch beside Sunghoon, phone caressed lazily in his hand. His eyes didn’t flicker up to see Riki’s new hairstyle. “I’m not gonna bother looking,” he muttered. “I already know it’s something stupid.”

“I think I look nice with it,” Riki crossed his arms in defense, muscles flexing.

The boy had changed a lot since they brought him into the business. The transformation came from relentless hours of honing his skills, grueling gym sessions, and a disciplined diet. Riki had become known for his sharp technique in martial arts- so much so that he’d somehow surpassed even Jungwon, who was formally trained in taekwondo. And when it came to handling a knife or firing a gun, his precision was unnerving- deadly, even. No one ever saw it coming. He may have been the youngest, but in many ways, he was the most formidable.

“Riki, I can barely see your face,” Sunghoon commented. “Everything’s blurring together,” he waved a hand vaguely in front of his eyes for emphasis.

“Jake Hyung would like it,” Riki rolled his eyes again, looking to the side of the room where a table of framed pictures sat. There were many pictures, in many of which Riki was featured in. Mostly, though, it was Jay with his sister or Jake. “Where is he, anyway?”

That got Jay to finally lift his head, attention steering away from whatever interesting thing he was reading on his phone. “He and my sister have gone out on a date,” Jay groaned and rolled his head to lean against the couch cushion. It seemed that the thought of his best friend and sister dating still bothered him- though he’d given them his blessings a long time ago. “Two year anniversary or something- oh wow, Riki. Sunghoon’s right, I really can’t see your face.”

Jay’s expression of surprise and bewilderment brought Sunghoon down into a fit of laughter. He clutched his stomach and fell sideways into the couch, mouth wide in a smile and eyes crinkled in cheer.

Riki just stared at them, unamused, arms still crossed and eyes narrowing to slits.

“I’m the boss, and somehow, you’ve grown to look scarier than me,” Jay observed.

“You’ve gone soft, Hyung,” Riki deadpanned.

Which, technically, was true. Ever since he started mending his relationship with his sister, started listening to her and taking her advice on the business, the weight on Jay’s shoulders had lifted- only slightly. Everyone preferred working with this version of Jay- the one that listened, the one that stopped and thought before making rash decisions and the one that started caring more about his people than the business in itself.

“It’s a good thing,” Riki quickly added before Jay’s expression could fall.

Behind them, Heeseung had entered the room, the screen of his phone lifted towards them. His steps were frantic, impatient; eyes wide and confused. “Did you guys see this?”

“Jay must have. He’s been on his phone for over an hour,” Niki grinned at his oldest Hyung, who, in return, responded with annoyance and a shake of his head.

“Careful, little shit,” Jay pointed a finger at him, moving to reach for his phone that had wedged itself between couch cushions. “I can still snap.”

Sunghoon, too, opened his phone in hopes of looking for what Heeseung was referring to. “Hyung, what are you talking about?”

“No one got the email?” Hesseung went on, staring at his screen like he could find some sort of clue that made sense of his spiralling. “Andrei wants to see us.”

Andrei had been the oldest friend of Jay’s family. He and Jay’s father had grown up side by side- same neighborhood, same school, same college- until they graduated and stepped into the mafia world together, a calculated risk that turned into a legacy. But when Jay’s father stepped away from the life and handed the reins to his son, Andrei remained. In some ways, he still outranked them both. He watched over Jay and everyone close to him- quietly, but with expectations that were never spoken yet always understood. Around Andrei, it felt like they were walking on thin ice. One word from him, one simple request, could bring everything to a standstill.

“What?” Jay’s voice almost disappeared.

Riki and Sunghoon could only stare at Heeseung, frozen in their expressions of uncertainty.

“Let me see,” Riki took the phone from Heeseung and examined the email.

There really was nothing much in it- it was an invitation to his house. For lunch. With his family- only him and his daughter and their two dogs.

“What in the world,” Riki mumbled. “He wants to have lunch?”

Jay grumbled and held his head in his hands.

Sunghoon stared as though there was a black hole in front of him. “I heard that the last time he called someone for lunch, he’d beheaded them and boiled their parts in acid.”

“Yeah, I heard that,” Heeseung pointed at Sunghoon, as though they were relating to something. “The rumor spread like wildfire.”

“Guy’s, you can’t seriously believe that,” Riki tutted. “It was a rumor.”

The front door had opened with a familiar thud and footsteps made their way down the hallway- they could recognise it. It was Jake and Jocelyn (Jay’s sister) back from their date, arms and glee wrapped around each other like blankets. They stumbled into the hall with bright smiles, the kind that somehow had a way of calming everyone down.

But not this time, apparently. Everyone was still confused.

Jake and Jocelyn’s smiles faltered.

“Why does everyone look like that,” Jocelyn’s eyes scanned the room, slowly shifting from Riki, to Heeseung, to Sunghoon then finally, to her brother, Jay. “Did someone die or something?”

Jake let out a low chuckle. “No way,” he shook his head. But when no one reacted to him, his chuckle faltered too. “Someone actually died?”

“No,” Sunghoon swallowed. “But someone might as well.”

“Hyung,” Riki started. “You’re part of the biggest mafia gang in the country and you’re squealing like a child right now.”

Sunghoon’s face snapped towards him, fear replaced by anger now. “What did Jay just say? I can still snap.”

Jocelyn ran to Jay’s side, wrapping her arm around his hunched frame. Jake went over to Heeseung to see the invite everyone had been talking about.

“Andrei?” Jake mused. “It’s been like, what, two- three years since we’ve seen the man?”

“Yeah, the last time ya’ll saw him, I was there,” Y/N looked back, almost fondly. “I remember him being really sweet.”

“Yeah? Well,” Jay straightened again. “He’s nice until someone pisses him off.”

“Have you pissed him off?”

“No.”

Jocelyn smiled softly. “Then why are you worried?”

II

Andrei’s house was big.

Everytime Riki saw it- in person a few years ago, through pictures and once on a feature in an architecture magazine- he was always taken by awe. It was bigger than his house, the one he shared with Jay and everyone else. It was bigger than most houses. Too big for just two people, that was for sure.

The drive from the gate of the estate to the front door took about five minutes- he knew because the radio in the car played Hotel California from start to finish.

They’d arrived in two cars- Riki, Jay, Jake and Jocelyn in one, the rest in the other.

The ride was quiet, save for the music and the occasional glance exchanged between Jay and Jocelyn in the backseat. Jay hadn’t said much since reading the email, and while Riki tried to act unbothered- tapping his fingers on the wheel and humming along to the chorus-he could feel the tension lingering in the car like static.

Jake, riding shotgun, finally broke the silence. “So… what do we think this is? A family catch-up? Or a test?”

Riki didn’t answer, just kept driving with his jaw clenched and bleached eyebrows pulled together in concentration. Jay didn’t want to answer, judging by the way his knee bounced slightly, restless.

“Could be both,” Jocelyn offered, her voice calm but careful. “He wouldn’t ask to see all of us unless it meant something.”

As they pulled up to the front entrance, two large black hounds sat poised by the doorway- Andrei’s dogs, just as massive and intimidating as Riki remembered. The front of the house looked like a modern fortress, all sharp angles and glass, with a stone driveway wide enough to host a small parade.

The second car pulled up behind them. Heeseung stepped out first, muttering under his breath. Sunghoon followed, unusually quiet, and Jungwon and Sunoo trailed behind, jaws tight with focus.

They all gathered at the base of the stairs before anyone dared to ring the doorbell.

“I feel like we’re walking into a war room,” Sunoo said, eyeing the tall double doors.

“Shut up,” Jay muttered, adjusting his coat. He turned to his sister. “Stay close.”

She rolled her eyes but nodded.

The door had opened without them having to knock, as though the house had sensed their presence. They knew it wasn’t magic- they were automated doors. But the fear that lingered on their nerves made them believe whatever wild thought that entered their heads.

The inside of Andrei’s house was as breathtaking as it was unsettling.

It was cold- not in temperature, but in atmosphere. The kind of cold that whispered power in polished surfaces and quiet corners. The floors were black marble with veins of silver running through them like cracks in glass. Every footstep echoed, soft but distinct, as though the house wanted to remember every person who walked through it.

Tall ceilings loomed overhead, supported by clean-lined columns that stood like silent sentinels. The walls were a soft matte grey, broken up by strange, modern art- sculptures that twisted in forms too abstract to name, and paintings that bled shadows and red.

Nothing felt homely- not a photo frame, not a fingerprint- just wealth, precision, and intention.

To the right, an enormous staircase curved upward like a spine, its railing a dark metal so finely crafted it almost looked like lace. A chandelier hung above it, not the classic crystal kind but an avant-garde fixture of golden rods and spheres, suspended in deliberate chaos.

Even the air smelled expensive- notes of cedar, clean linen, and something older, like history.

Heeseung’s eyes traced the perimeter, already mapping exits. Jungwon said nothing, jaw tight. Sunoo’s expression was unreadable, but his fingers tapped nervously against his thigh.

“This place could be a museum,” Sunghoon whispered under his breath.

“No,” Jake said beside him. “Museums feel alive.”

Andrei appeared at the end of the grand hallway, framed by the pale gold light spilling through the archways behind him. A pipe hung lazily from the corner of his mouth- smoke curling upward in soft spirals. It was new. Jay didn’t remember him ever smoking a pipe.

But what struck him more than the pipe was the smile- wide, warm, disarming- like they were long-lost family returning home.

“You came,” Andrei beamed, spreading his arms.

“Of course we did,” Jay said, voice steady as he stepped forward. The two men embraced- brief, firm, the kind of hug between people who respected each other but still watched their backs.

Then Andrei turned to Jocelyn, his expression softening further. “Darling,” he murmured, pulling her in. His hug with her lasted longer, less guarded. “You’ve grown into your mother’s mirror.”

Jocelyn smiled, a bit taken aback but not uncomfortable. “You talk like a poet, Andrei.”

He chuckled, stepping back, removing the pipe just long enough to blow the smoke away from their faces.

Behind them, the others stood quietly- still, as if unsure whether to approach or wait for orders.

Andrei’s eyes flicked to them. “Come now,” he said, arms open again. “What’s with all the stiffness? This is lunch, not an ambush.”

No one moved right away. Then Riki took the first step.

“We brought wine,” he offered, holding up the bottle he’d been carrying.

Andrei’s grin widened. “Ah, the pretty one with bleached hair. You never disappoint. Niki, was it?”

“Riki,” he responded with a curt nod.

Andre hummed, stared him in the eye for two seconds, and then turned to lead everyone into the dining hall.

Riki turned to Sunghoon with a cheeky grin, as though he’d won in some sort of bet. “He likes my hair.”

Andrei led them through a long, high-ceilinged hallway, his steps unhurried, pipe still trailing smoke like a veil. Their footsteps filled the silence in a rhythm that felt ceremonial- no one dared to speak.

The dining hall doors were already open.

Inside, the room glowed gold under a massive chandelier. The table was long, dark wood with a flawless polish, stretched out like something from a royal painting. The spread laid across it was nothing short of a feast- roast meats, platters of grilled vegetables, seafood glistening with butter and herbs, fresh bread stacked like bricks, and wine in glass decanters so clear they looked invisible.

Yet every chair stood empty, waiting.

Andrei took his place at the head of the table, the chair like a throne. The other end of the table remained unoccupied. No one even glanced at it for too long- it had once belonged to his wife. No one dared sit there.

Silently, they filled in the seats along the sides. Jay took the one closest to Andrei on the left, Jocelyn beside him. Riki ended up across from Sunghoon and Jungwon, and Jake between Heeseung and Sunoo.

Waiters appeared with practiced precision, dressed in uniform black, serving portions without a word. The clinking of silverware and glass filled the room for a moment- almost soothing, if not for the tension that buzzed faintly beneath the surface.

“So,” Andrei said, voice light as he poured himself a glass of wine. “How’s business, Jay?”

Jay gave a clipped smile. “Stable. Clean. Quiet.”

Andrei laughed under his breath, the kind of laugh that said he didn’t believe in quiet. “That’s good. Quiet means you’re doing something right.”

They exchanged a few more pleasantries- Sunghoon complimenting the food, Jocelyn asking about the chef, Riki quietly stabbing into a grilled shrimp- until the sound of soft footsteps interrupted them.

Everyone turned.

A girl walked in- cooly, not hurried, like she’d been planning her entrance to the tea.

She was effortlessly put together- white dress that reached her knees, hair falling down her back in waves. Her eyes were sharp, fox-like, a flicker of amusement playing in them even though she hadn’t said a word yet. She carried herself with a kind of lazy confidence- born from growing up in rooms where men lowered their voices when her father walked in.

“This is my daughter,” Andrei said as she came to his side. “Y/N.”

Y/N offered a short nod, her gaze flickering across the table- assessing, not greeting. “Hi,” she said simply, sliding into the empty seat next to her father.

She didn't try to make conversation. She didn't even need to.

Andrei leaned back in his chair, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I brought you all here for a reason,” he said, letting the pipe rest in an ashtray beside him. “And while I do enjoy seeing familiar faces… this wasn’t just a social call.”

The table quieted. All eyes turned to him.

“It’s about her,” he continued, glancing toward Y/N, who looked mildly annoyed at being the center of attention.

Jay frowned. “What do you mean?”

Andrei raised his glass but didn’t drink. “She’s grown up around all this,” he gestured loosely. “But I never taught her how to protect herself. Call it a father’s guilt. Or maybe I’m getting old. Either way, ” his eyes landed on Riki, “I want him to train her.”

Riki blinked. “Me?”

“You’re the best we’ve got,” Andrei said plainly. “And you’re on Jay’s side, which means you’re on mine. Who better to trust?”

The room was silent again.

Riki looked to Jay for some unspoken signal, but Jay’s face gave away nothing.

III

The hallway lights were dim, and most of the house had gone quiet for the evening. Riki was in the shared living room back at their place, sprawled dramatically across the couch, a pillow over his face smothering his rage.

“I can’t believe this,” he groaned, voice muffled by cotton. “Out of everyone- me? Do I not have better shit to do?”

From the nearby armchair, Sunoo didn’t even look up from his book. “You don’t.”

Riki sat up, tossing the pillow aside. “I do! I’ve got- training, and drills, and gun maintenance, and- ”

Sunoo raised a brow. “You’re literally describing the same things you’re going to do with her.”

“That’s not the point,” Riki snapped. “She’s… cocky.”

“So are you.”

“Yeah, but she’s got that rich-girl-doesn’t-care-if-she-gets-shot kind of cocky. Like, daddy will save me.” He gestured wildly in the air, mimicking her expression. “Hi, I don’t need to know basic defense because my last name is enough to keep me alive.”

“I don’t think she’s being forced into this,” Sunoo finally looked up, closing his book with a soft thud. “Plus, Andrei asked for it.”

“Which means I can’t say no.”

“Exactly,” Sunoo echoed, now getting up and walking to the kitchen for water. “He asks, we deliver. That’s the rule, remember?”

IV

Riki’s gym took up the entire basement- what was once a dull, unused space had been gutted, repainted, and reborn into his own haven of physical exercise and mastery of weapons. A boxing ring sat squarely at the center, its ropes frayed at the edges from constant use. The walls were painted in sharp hues of grey, yellow, and red, giving the otherwise white canvas a burst of aggression and focus. Weights lined one wall, punching bags hung like silent spectators, the floor smelled faintly of sweat and disinfectant- Riki kept it immaculate.

Y/N showed up right on time. Not too early, not fashionably late- just on the dot, like she was setting a tone.

She stepped in wearing black leggings and a fitted top, her hair tied into a high ponytail that didn’t dare move. She had a bounce in her step, like this was just another challenge she was confident she’d charm her way through.

“Morning,” she said brightly, offering a slight smile as she looked around. “Nice place. Didn't think you'd be the aesthetic type.”

Riki didn’t respond. He stood near the edge of the ring, arms crossed over his chest, face more unreadable with his bleached brows and hair. His silence was louder than any greeting.

“Warm up,” he said flatly.

Y/N’s smile faltered for half a second. “Not a talker- got it.”

She nodded and dropped her bag to the floor, stepping to the side to begin her stretching routine. Her movements were fluid- familiar, well-practiced. Riki watched without expression, eyes calculating, taking mental notes.

After a minute, her voice cut through the tension.

“So… what are we doing today?” Her cocky edge had returned, laced with curiosity. “You gonna show me how to throw knives or something?”

Riki’s gaze didn’t waver. “Not starting anything today,” he said. “Only exercise.”

Y/N groaned slightly, tipping her head back with a dramatic sigh. “Ugh, how boring.”

“Then leave,” Riki said, deadpan.

She blinked. He didn’t flinch.

She huffed a breath of laughter, amused and annoyed all at once. “Wow. Okay. Tough crowd.”

He turned away and started setting a timer. “Five sets of jump squats, thirty seconds rest. Let’s see if the mafia princess can even survive a warm-up.”

Y/N paused mid-squat, eyes narrowing. “I’m not a mafia princess.”

Riki didn’t even glance up from the timer. “Then what?” He continued flatly. “Daddy’s princess?”

The words struck harder than she expected- mocking, cold, dismissive.

Her smirk vanished. “You don’t even know me,” she snapped, standing upright.

He finally looked up, arms crossed. “Don’t need to. I’ve seen your kind before.”

Her eyes flared. “My kind?”

“Entitled. Spoiled. Think they can smile their way out of hard work.”

Y/N stepped closer, jaw tight. “You think I was forced into this?”

Riki shrugged. “You’ll still be here tomorrow. That’s all that matters.”

She stared at him, furious. Then turned away, biting down the urge to argue more. She grabbed her water bottle with a little too much force, taking a sharp breath.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, just loud enough. “Cocky, emotionally constipated, knife boy.”

Riki heard- but didn’t flinch. He just hit start on the timer. “Set two. Let’s go, princess.”

V

Y/N wasn’t spoiled. Not in the way people liked to assume.

Her father had raised her with discipline, values, and a sharp tongue that could hold its own in any room. At least- that’s what she liked to believe. Still, more than once, people had told her she had an attitude. It came up in passing, always laced with a laugh- too sharp, too smug, too sure of herself. But she never saw a reason to correct it.

Because the truth was- her life didn’t demand humility.

Y/N lived a life most people could only dream of. As the daughter of Andrei- the most feared and respected man in the country’s criminal underworld- she existed in a world built on power, wealth, and silence. She had bodyguards before she had braces, chauffeurs before she had a license. Wherever she went, her name traveled ahead of her, clearing the way like a blade through water. Her father’s influence wrapped around her like armor, and for most of her life, it had been enough. No one touched her- no one even dared. She had money, freedom, and the kind of unspoken reverence that followed her even when she wasn’t trying to be noticed. On the surface, it was the perfect life.

But it wasn’t bulletproof.

The night everything changed hadn’t felt like anything at all- just another quiet evening. She had come home from her university class, tossed her bag on the floor, washed her face, and climbed into bed like it was any other day. That’s when the alarms started- piercing, shrill, flashing red lights flooding the hallway. The sound of bodies moving-heavy boots, drawn weapons, the bark of commands. And then a struggle- quick, brutal, over in seconds. By the time she opened her bedroom door, it was done. The intruder had been tackled just outside the side entrance, barely a few meters from where she slept. If the bodyguards had been a minute slower, he might’ve reached her.

For the first time, Andrei had seen the crack in the foundation. He watched the security footage in silence, a lit pipe resting between his fingers, smoke curling like ghosts around his face. What scared Y/N the most wasn’t his anger- it was how calm he was- the way he stood in her doorway that night, long after the incident, just watching her sleep like he was mourning something he hadn’t lost.

The next morning, he gave the order.

She needed to learn to protect herself.

And that was where Riki came in.

Riki wasn’t just another bodyguard or soldier. He was the sharpest weapon in Jay’s arsenal, someone who had risen quickly through the ranks not by legacy, but by discipline and deadly precision. Everyone knew what he was capable of- knife work, close combat, firearms- he mastered everything. Young, powerful, and ruthless, Riki never flinched.

He didn’t care that Y/N was Andrei’s daughter. In fact, that was exactly why Andrei chose him. Riki wasn’t there to entertain her, pamper her, or protect her ego. He was there to mold her into someone dangerous- someone who didn’t flinch in the face of a gun, someone who would never need saving.

Y/N had agreed, not out of fear, but out of pride. She wanted to prove she was more than just her father’s name, more than just the girl at the end of the table during dinners, more than someone who was almost kidnapped. But what she didn’t expect- what no one warned her about- was just how much Riki would make her earn it.

Training with Riki wasn’t the kind of physical exhaustion Y/N had braced herself for. There were no bruises blooming beneath her skin, no split lips or dramatic battle scars- at least, not yet. What truly drained her, what left her feeling heavy and hollow by the end of each day, was the sheer mental weight of it all. It was the relentless stillness in his voice, the clinical precision of his words, the way he never praised, never acknowledged, never gave her even a sliver of satisfaction.

The first day had broken something in her, though she would’ve rather chewed glass than admit it. Despite the bravado she carried in with her- head held high, eyes challenging- she returned home that evening in silence. Her father had waited at the dinner table, an untouched plate in front of him, and though he didn’t say anything when she walked past, he noticed. She didn’t eat. She didn’t speak. She didn’t even look at him.

And yet, the next day, she was back.

She arrived early, hair tied tight, expression sharper than it had been the day before, as if she had stitched her pride back together just enough to stand. But Riki didn’t reward her silent resilience. He barely even looked at her as he tossed her the rope and told her to warm up. What followed was a repeat of the day prior- stretches, conditioning drills, plank holds, wall sits, core exercises until her body trembled under the pressure- but the part that wore her down the most was the repetition, the lack of progress, the dull, numbing sameness. Occasionally, if she was lucky or if he was particularly generous, he let her use the dumbbells under strict time and form limitations. That was the extent of variation. There was no celebration when she did something right, no adjustment when she struggled. Just the same three words, muttered without a glance- “Again. Fix it.”

And, of course, the nickname. Always the nickname.

“Princess,” he’d say, dragging it out just enough to make her feel it, like he was driving the knife in slowly- just to watch her bleed frustration. She hated it because it undermined her effort, and because it reminded her of everything she’d been trying to escape.

And Riki didn’t care.

“If you’re so annoyed,” he said casually one afternoon, watching her mid-set as sweat dripped down the side of her face, “the door’s right there.”

She didn’t answer. - ust rolled her eyes and kept holding the plank until her arms trembled.

That was the day Jocelyn had walked in- unannounced, a breath of fresh air in soft curls and a denim jacket, smiling like she didn’t know the room was emotionally on fire. Her warmth was instant, her presence oddly disarming. She slipped beside Y/N and offered a small nod, like they’d been friends forever.

“Come on,” she said gently. “I’m taking you out for dinner.”

Two bodyguards trailed them the entire time- like shadows glued to café glass and pastel menus. The café was cozy, too cozy to house the kind of lives they lived. The juxtaposition made Y/N laugh- really laugh for the first time in days.

Jocelyn quickly became her escape. When Riki pushed too hard, when her self-worth started cracking under his silence, Jocelyn would swoop in- text her out, drag her to a bookstore, slip her snacks under the table. She’d call Riki out to his face, too- never scared, never subtle.

“You don’t have to be a jerk about it,” Jocelyn had snapped at him once, right after he corrected Y/N’s stance for the fifth time in one session. “She’s trying. You could try not to be a robot.”

But Riki didn’t change. If anything, he seemed to double down. The more he realized he could get away with it- the more it became clear that Andrei was firmly on his side- he pushed harder. Andrei never scolded him, never told him to ease up- he trusted Riki’s judgment. Which, to Riki, was permission to keep jabbing.

And so he did.

With every flat remark. With every eye roll. With every “princess.”

Because the truth was- Riki had already decided what Y/N was. And no matter how many days she showed up, she hadn’t proved him wrong yet.

VI

“I’m gonna teach you how to use a knife today.”

The words landed in the air like a stone dropped in still water- sudden, sharp, sending silent ripples through everything.

Y/N froze halfway through tying her ponytail, the elastic still looped between her fingers. For a second, she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. She turned her head slowly, brows furrowed, expecting some kind of follow-up- maybe a correction, a deadpan jab, the usual eye roll that came with his sarcasm.

But Riki was serious.

He stood near the storage rack, sleeves pushed up, eyes cool and unreadable, and beside him, laid out on a clean white cloth, was a single black-handled blade- sharp, deadly.

Y/N let the elastic snap into place and approached, the echo of her sneakers soft against the gym floor. “You’re not just trying to scare me off?”

Riki didn’t blink. “If I wanted you gone, I’d just stop showing up.”

He picked up the knife with ease- one could tell his familiarity with it with a simple glance. The blade gleamed under the basement lights, catching a thin sliver of gold in its curve before he held it out, handle first. “Take it.”

Y/N reached for it without hesitation, fingers curling around the grip. It was heavier than she expected- not impossibly so, but enough to remind her that this wasn’t a movie, and this wasn’t pretend.

“You’re not gonna say I haven’t earned it yet?” She asked, glancing up at him with a flicker of something close to a smirk.

Riki’s expression didn’t shift. “If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t be holding it.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable for once. It felt like a new weight settling into the room, a shift in dynamic- small, but undeniable. For the first time in weeks, Y/N didn’t feel like she was being tolerated. She felt like she was being tested.

He stepped behind her, adjusting her grip slightly, guiding her fingers with deliberate precision. His hands were steady, clinical, devoid of any softness. “You don’t hold it like you’re scared of it,” he said. “You hold it like it belongs to you. Because if you ever need to use it, hesitation will get you killed.”

Y/N nodded once..

“What are we starting with?” She asked.

“Targeting. Center mass. Arterial strikes. The basics.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So, just light stuff.”

Riki stepped back, the faintest hint of something in his eyes- approval, maybe, though he’d never say it aloud. “You want me to sugarcoat it, or teach you how to survive?”

“I’m not here to be babied,” she said.

“Good,” he replied. “Because I don’t do that.”

VII

It was one of those rare evenings where the entire house sat down for dinner together- something that only ever happened under Jocelyn’s unrelenting insistence. She called them “non-negotiable trust exercises,” claiming that shared meals were sacred, that they built familiarity, dissolved tension, and reminded them all they weren’t just soldiers, or heirs, or enforcers- they were still, somewhere beneath the chaos, a family.

It had happened so often by now that no one protested anymore. In fact, though none of them would dare admit it- especially not Jay- they had started looking forward to it.

The dining table stretched wide, dressed in warm food and soft candlelight, laughter crackling occasionally between bites and side glances. For a few moments, the world outside faded- the rival families, the tension in their bones, the training regimens, the name Andrei looming over their choices. For a few moments, they were just people.

Between bites of roasted vegetables and low conversation, Jay- leaning back with his wine glass in hand- glanced toward Riki without much ceremony. “How’s training going with Y/N?”

Before Riki could even lift his head, Jocelyn cut in, spearing a piece of chicken with far too much enthusiasm. “I think she hates us,” she said, voice cheery in the way only someone trying to stir trouble on purpose could manage. “Riki treats her like absolute shit.”

The table fell dead silent.

Forks hovered halfway to mouths, spoons paused mid-scoop, and everyone’s breath collectively stilled, like the room itself had flinched. All eyes swung toward Riki at once- Heeseung, Sunghoon, Jake, Jungwon, Sunoo- each of them caught somewhere between horror and fascination. It was like someone had pulled the pin on a grenade and dropped it gently in the soup bowl.

Riki leaned back in his chair, arms folded over his chest, gaze level and expression unreadable, like none of this concerned him in the slightest.

Riki would never admit it aloud- certainly not here- but there was a reason he treated Y/N the way he did, a reason that wasn’t about her at all. It was about the fear her father instilled in all of them- the kind of fear that wasn’t loud or threatening, but quiet and suffocating, like a wire pulled tight around the throat. He didn’t like seeing his Hyungs afraid, didn’t like watching the power shift in a room the second Andrei was mentioned. And whether it was misplaced rebellion or something tangled in the growing pains of teenage pride, Riki’s way of pushing back was through her. Through the one person Andrei had made them all silently swear to protect.

It wasn’t fair. Jocelyn told him that- often and bluntly. And still, he didn’t stop.

“Are you trying to get us killed?” Jungwon asked from the far end, his tone more serious than usual.

Jocelyn raised her brows, leaning into the storm she had brewed. “Guys. I feel like you overestimate Andrei. I know he’s… intense, but he thinks of us as family. He trusts us. He trusts Riki.”

“Do you think he’ll still think that,” Heeseung muttered darkly, ��when he finds out we’ve been letting his daughter get bullied by this little shit?”

“He hasn’t yet,” Riki said, finally breaking his silence, his tone steady but low. “And he knows how I’ve been training her. I’ve reported everything. He hasn’t said a word about it.”

Jay set his wine glass down, a soft click punctuating the space between them. His eyes were fixed on Riki now- sharp, calculating, protective. “You better not take it too far,” he said, voice cold and quiet in a way that made everyone feel it.

Meanwhile, back in her room, Y/N was face-down on her bed, her arms splayed out and her face half-buried in her pillows like she could physically smother the thoughts racing through her head.

She hated that she was thinking about him.

She really hated that she was thinking about the way his chest had pressed lightly against her back that afternoon- how his voice had lowered, just slightly, as he corrected her stance, one hand firm around her wrist, the other hovering near her waist. There had been nothing flirtatious in it, nothing even remotely intentional. And yet, she felt it- his breath at her neck, his hand steady and warm, the way his hair brushed across her cheek when he leaned too close.

For the first time, he’d treated her like someone who belonged.

Not like a task. Not like a child. Like someone capable of learning. Like someone seen.

And it had wrecked her.

This was not supposed to happen. He was rude, arrogant, emotionally unavailable, and worst of all- barely even looked at her like a person before this week. But the moment he had, the moment he shifted even slightly, her feelings had unraveled.

Riki was the first person to treat her like she had to earn her space.

And God help her, she wanted to- for reasons she didn’t understand yet.

Training sessions with the knife continued that way.

They weren’t rushed, not by any means. Riki moved with measured precision, always focused, always professional. Each lesson built on the last that slowly, inevitably carved her into someone sharper- just like Andrei wanted. And through it all, Riki was there, correcting her grip with a firm hand around her fingers, steadying her hips when her balance faltered, tilting her elbow just slightly to improve her range. His touch was never inappropriate, never lingering- but it was there, constant and unavoidable.

And that was the problem. It wasn’t supposed to matter. But it did.

Because every time he stepped in behind her, hands brushing her arms to guide a motion, or his chest ghosting too close to her back, she became aware- not just of him, but of herself; of how small she felt next to him, how easily he could move her body like it was a piece of a larger machine, how focused he was on the technique and how hard it was for her to stay focused on anything else. She’d nod, she'd respond, she'd keep her stance- because she wasn’t weak- but inside, it drove her mad.

And that was its own kind of addiction.

Eventually, the knife training evolved.

One afternoon, he led her toward the dartboard nailed to the far corner of the gym wall, the sleek, black-and-red target lit under a harsh spotlight. “Congrats, you’re graduating to darts,” he said plainly, handing her a set of matte steel-tipped ones. “Practice for using the gun later. This’ll train your hand-eye control without needing a trigger.”

She wanted to ask why now, but didn’t. She knew better than to ask for praise from him.

What she hadn’t expected, though, was how suddenly his touch disappeared.

No more hands adjusting her wrists. No more shoulders pressed lightly behind her as he corrected posture. No more hovering presence that reminded her she was being watched, guided- trained.

Now, he stood on the other side of the gym, arms crossed, occasionally nodding when she landed a clean shot, occasionally correcting her form with nothing but a sharp word. It was colder, it was emptier- and for reasons she wasn’t ready to unpack, she hated it more than she could admit.

She’d gotten used to him. Not just his methods, but him- the way his presence filled the room like smoke- quiet but consuming. It was the way his voice cut through her overthinking, the way he only touched her when it mattered.

Now, she was left standing there, throwing darts into silence, craving something she couldn’t name without sounding stupid.

A few days later, over a late lunch, Jocelyn asked casually. “Is Riki still being an asshole to you?”

Y/N paused mid-sip of her iced coffee, then exhaled through her nose with a shrug. “I guess it’s the same,” she said flatly. “Yeah. He’s making me play darts now.”

It sounded so mundane when said out loud- darts. As if the word didn’t come weighted with hours of silent precision, as if it wasn’t now tangled with every complicated thought she’d refused to unpack since he started keeping his distance.

Jocelyn didn’t press her. She didn’t raise a brow or tilt her head in curiosity. She just nodded, like that answer was good enough- like of course it made sense.

And that’s when it hit Y/N- despite the annoyance Riki seemed to bring everyone- the insults, the eye rolls, the walls he built taller than most people could see over- they trusted him without question, without explanation. They followed his lead in a fight, deferred to his methods in training, and even Jay, the man who outranked him, never challenged the way Riki handled her.

They trusted that Riki would never hurt her. And, against all odds, she was starting to believe that too. Even if she still wanted to slap that deadpan look off his face most days.

VIII

Riki hadn’t meant to bring her to the gun range so soon. In his head, she still needed a few more weeks of drills- more form correction, more footwork, more discipline. He didn’t want to rush her into something she wasn’t ready for. That’s what he kept telling himself.

The truth, though, was simpler- she was getting good. And much faster than he’d expected. There was a sharpness in her, one that didn’t come from brute force or survival instinct. He watched it grow with every session, and the higher it climbed, the more he dug his heels in, refusing to say the one thing that kept biting at the edge of his tongue.

She was better than she should be.

But pride had never been Riki’s strong suit. So instead of telling her, he just texted her the location and time.

Gun range. 5 PM.

When she arrived, he was already there, loading magazines at the back table. The Glock lay in full view, polished, prepped, resting like it was waiting for her. And the second her eyes landed on it, her whole face lit up- wide-eyed, eager, the kind of grin that would’ve made someone else laugh, maybe even tease her. Riki didn’t do either, but he noticed it. And for a split second, the way her excitement filled the room reminded him of something younger- before orders, before violence had become muscle memory.

She looked at the gun like a child being handed a lollipop, and somehow, it didn’t make her look naive.

As she approached, he just nodded and motioned her closer. Then, without any fanfare, he stepped behind her, close enough that his presence could be felt but not overwhelming. His hand settled on her lower back, firm but careful, guiding her toward the right position. When he placed the Glock in her hands, he didn’t ask if she was nervous- he simply adjusted her fingers around the grip with the same precision he’d applied to every lesson before.

His chest brushed lightly against her back as he corrected her arms, lining her up with the target. One hand slid to her waist to adjust her balance; the other repositioned her wrist, steadying her elbow like she was an extension of his own movement.

“Breathe through your stomach,” he said quietly. “Not your chest.”

She didn’t respond, but he felt her body shift, her breathing grow deeper, slower. She was focused- more than he’d seen her yet.

When the shot rang out, it echoed clean through the chamber.

Dead center.

He blinked at the target, then at her. She hadn’t even flinched.

It was a better first shot than he’d ever pulled off.

For a second, he stayed behind her, watching the slight tremble in her arm settle, watching the way she held the weapon like it belonged to her. There was something tightening in his chest- something like respect, with edges he didn’t know how to name.

He stepped away before it could settle too deeply.

“Not bad, princess,” he said, flat as ever.

But he knew- and she knew he knew- that it was more than that.

And somehow, that made things even more complicated.

Later that night, when the house had settled into silence and the world outside had finally stopped demanding things of him, Riki sat alone in his room- lights off, window cracked open, the faint sounds of the city humming in the distance like a lullaby that didn’t quite land.

He had a habit of keeping things minimal. His room reflected that- clean, sparse, practical. A bed, a desk, a shelf lined with weapons he never bragged about, a set of notebooks he never let anyone read. Even the air felt sharpened by discipline, like nothing stayed unless it earned its place.

Tonight, though, his thoughts wouldn’t quiet. He leaned back in his chair, head tilted slightly against the wall behind him, eyes fixed somewhere in the dark. His body ached faintly from his own training, but that wasn’t what bothered him. It was her- Y/N. Not just her smile at the range, not just her aim. Her.

The way she stood a little taller these days. The way her jokes landed more confidently. The way she stared straight back at him when he criticized her, like she was daring him to look deeper and find something worth saying.

She’d started to take up space. Not in a loud, attention-seeking way, not like the girls he’d known before, who wanted to be admired or envied. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone- not even her father. Especially not him. And maybe that was what gnawed at him most.

She wanted this- the training.

And he hated that it made him care.

Because he’d promised himself long ago he wouldn’t get involved. Not with people who could be used against him. Not with people tied to bigger names, bigger consequences. And especially not with someone like her- someone who carried Andrei’s legacy like a blade pressed to the throat of every man in this house.

But still… when she shot dead center today, her posture steady, her eyes locked on the target like it was personal, he hadn’t seen Andrei’s daughter. He’d seen Y/N, who she’d been begging him to see, and that was dangerous. Because if he was honest with himself- and he rarely was- he didn’t know if he was more afraid of hurting her… or protecting her.

Both felt like weakness.

IX

By now, she’d memorized the sound of his voice when he called her princess. The first time he said it, it had dripped with condescension- like she was an intruder in a space built by blood and sweat, a spoiled girl playing pretend with knives. But lately, it hadn’t sounded like an insult anymore.

Riki still said it like it was muscle memory, like he didn’t even think about it. But Y/N could feel it in the air each time the word left his mouth. It no longer struck like a bullet- it brushed against her like a whisper, warm and low and maddeningly familiar.

She told herself she didn’t care- but it was starting to ruin her.

Today, when she walked into the gym, he didn’t even look up. He was standing near the far wall, hands wrapped in tape, posture loose but ready- like always. The only acknowledgment she got was a single nod and the flick of his eyes down to the knife laid out for her.

“Back to blades?” She asked, dropping her bag near the corner, pulling her hair up without waiting for a reply.

“You still hold it like you’re scared of it,” he muttered, finally tossing her a dull training knife. “You want a gun, earn it.”

She caught the knife and rolled her eyes. “I did earn it.”

“You earned a lesson. Not the weapon.”

Y/N bit down her response. It was always like this- every compliment is buried under sharp edges. Every ounce of progress ignored- or worse, acknowledged in silence. Still, she stayed. Still, she showed up every time. And he knew she would.

The drills began- swift, methodical, exhausting in their repetition. Riki moved around her like a shadow, close enough to guide her, never close enough to feel safe. He adjusted her posture with two fingers on her back, fixed her grip with the curve of his palm against hers. Every brush of contact lit a fuse in her chest- short, sharp, breathless.

She hated how much her body noticed him now. The way he stood behind her to correct her stance, tall and composed, warmth bleeding through his shirt as he aligned her movements to his. The way his voice dipped lower when she was doing something right. The way he never admitted it out loud, but kept letting her go further anyway.

“You’re hesitating,” he said once, when she faltered mid-block.

“I’m not,” she whispered back, heart racing.

He stepped closer, eyes locked on hers, unflinching. “Prove it.”

She didn’t look away- not this time.

Their next drill was closer in contact- something that would’ve flustered her a month ago. Now, it just made her aware of everything. The shape of his jaw, the slight hitch in his breath when she got the move right, the way his fingers lingered a beat too long on her waist when he stopped her momentum.

And when they broke apart, she missed his touch so sharply it almost made her stumble.

They didn’t speak of it. Neither of them mentioned the way the room suddenly felt hotter, or how time seemed to slow every time he looked at her. But it was there- it was in the silence.

It was in the way he handed her the blade before their final set and said, quietly, “ready, princess?”

The word settled on her like a secret. Her stomach flipped. She couldn’t even bring herself to smirk. She just nodded, eyes locked on his, pulse wild under her skin.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “I’m ready.”

X

It was a routine afternoon when Jay showed up.

Training was supposed to be just the two of them- like always. Y/N had walked in ready, hair tied back, tank top clinging to her skin from the heat, that same practiced neutrality on her face that she tried to wear like armor around him. Riki had almost forgotten what it felt like to train anyone else. She took up so much space now, even when she was silent.

But then Jay strolled in, leaning casually against the gym doorway with his arms crossed and that signature unreadable expression that meant he was watching more than he let on.

“Don’t mind me,” Jay said, tone light but eyes sharp. “Just felt like watching for a change.”

Riki raised an eyebrow, but didn’t protest. Y/N just nodded stiffly, shooting a glance at Riki that felt almost nervous.

The drills started. Knife work first, then light sparring, then stance correction. It all felt routine- except it wasn’t. Not with Jay’s eyes following every movement, not when Riki noticed the way Y/N’s composure faltered just a little more under observation; the way she smiled when Riki rolled his eyes at her, the way her laugh came out softer, quicker, like she didn’t mean for it to slip.

And Jay saw all of it.

He saw the way Riki’s hands hovered just a little longer on her waist when he corrected her balance, the way Riki’s jaw clenched every time she touched him and didn’t notice it. And the way he looked at her- God, how he looked at her.

Jay knew that look. It was the same look Jake used to give Jocelyn when Jay was a protective nutjob all those years ago. He himself had worn it before, years ago, with someone he couldn’t have.

When the session ended, Y/N grabbed her water bottle, barely glanced at them as she walked out- too flustered, too warm, too aware of whatever it was that lived in the air now. She gave Jay a quick, awkward wave. “See you later.”

He waited until she was gone, until her footsteps disappeared down the hall.

Then he turned to Riki. “So,” Jay said, voice flat now, arms still crossed, “you wanna tell me what that was?”

Riki didn’t even look up from where he was putting the blades away. “What was what?”

Jay scoffed. “Don’t play stupid. That tension? I could cut it with one of those knives you keep throwing at her.”

Riki shut the drawer with a little too much force. “Training. That’s all.”

“That’s not what it looks like.”

“Then you’re looking too hard, Hyung.”

Jay stepped forward, voice still calm but edged now. “She’s Andrei’s daughter, Riki.”

That made Riki freeze- just a second too long.

Jay noticed.

“I know,” Riki muttered, voice lower now, the defensiveness creeping in despite him trying to keep it steady. “I haven’t done anything. Nothing’s happening.”

“Maybe not yet,” Jay said. “But don’t act like you’re not halfway there.”

Riki turned to him, finally meeting his eyes. His usual cool exterior was cracking- not completely, but enough to reveal the mess beneath. “She’s a trainee.”

“She’s not just a trainee,” Jay shot back. “And you know it,” Jay sighed, shaking his head. “You don’t get to mess this up. Not with her. Not with him watching us like hawks. If he even thinks you’ve crossed a line-”

“I haven’t,” Riki cut in sharply. “I won’t.”

Jay narrowed his eyes. “You can lie to me. But don’t lie to yourself,” he turned to leave but paused at the door. “Figure it out, Riki. Before someone else does,” and then he was gone, leaving Riki standing in the center of the gym, the silence ringing louder than any gunshot he’d ever fired.

Because deep down, beneath all the denial, beneath all the bravado, he already had crossed a line. He just didn’t know what to do with the part of him that didn’t want to go back.

XI

The air in the basement gym felt different that evening. Maybe it was the heat from the sparring mats or the hum of the overhead lights, or maybe it was something else- something that had been building quietly between them, day after day, in every unspoken word and every touch that lingered longer than it should’ve.

Y/N showed up a few minutes early, her water bottle still half-full from earlier that afternoon, strands of hair already sticking to her temple despite the shower she’d just taken. She found Riki already at the far end of the gym, shirt clinging to his back, sweat running down the curve of his neck, gloves hitting the punching bag in practiced, rhythmic bursts.

When he saw her, it was the same thing every time- that pause, that fraction of a second where the air seemed to thicken around them before he blinked, nodded, and turned away like nothing in his chest had tightened.

She set her bag down, smoothing her hands over her leggings. “I forgot my gloves,” she said, not expecting sympathy.

“You can go bare,” he muttered, not looking up. “It’ll toughen your hands.”

“Tough love again?”

“No. Just love.”

The words slipped out too quickly- too quiet, too smooth- and for a second, neither of them moved. But then he rolled his shoulder and stepped toward the corner of the room where the throwing knives were stored. “Get ready,” he said, like it hadn’t meant anything at all.

But it had. She could feel it in her spine.

They went through warm-ups without speaking, but the silence wasn’t comfortable the way it used to be. It buzzed now, full of static. Every time she glanced at him, his eyes were already on her- watchful, unreadable, and far too soft for someone who used to cut her down with every word.

Then, without warning, he said, “We’re not doing blades today.”

She paused. “No?”

“No,” he replied, tossing a small black case onto the mat in front of her. “We’re doing this.”

Y/N crouched down, flipping open the case. Inside sat a matte black Glock 19. Her breath caught a little in her throat, not because of fear, but because this was it- this was the next step, the one she’d been waiting for without even realizing it.

“Seriously?” She asked, glancing up at him. “You're letting me fire this now?”

“You’re ready,” Riki said, already crossing the room toward the private firing range that had been installed in the far end of the basement. She wondered why he took her to a shooting range the last time. “Don’t make me regret it.”

She followed him with a quiet sense of awe, like a child being handed a key to a secret world. The thrill wasn’t just from the weapon- it was the way he trusted her with it. It meant he trusted her.

Inside the range, everything felt quieter, more closed-in. The walls were padded, the air cooler. He handed her protective earmuffs and adjusted her stance from behind, like always. But this time, when his hands came to rest on her wrists, she didn’t flinch. And he didn’t pull away.

“Grip tighter,” he murmured, voice brushing her neck with warmth. “Looser in the shoulders. You’re too stiff.”

“I’m nervous.”

“Don’t be.”

“You’re close.”

“I have to be.”

His breath was at her jaw now, and she could feel the warmth of his chest against her back, the firm press of his hands guiding hers toward the target. Every part of her was lit up, heart racing, skin alive with sensation that had nothing to do with fear.

“You’ve done this before,” he said softly.

“Not like this.”

Something about her voice made him freeze- ust for a second, just long enough.

She turned her head slightly, only to find that his face was closer than she expected- barely a few inches away. Close enough to see the flecks of gold in his irises, the faintest shadow of stubble at his jaw, the tension carved into his mouth.

He didn’t move. Neither of them did.

And for the first time, she leaned forward first. Only a fraction, only enough to feel the whisper of his breath across her lips.

But then, just before the space between them disappeared entirely- he stepped back. Not far, just enough to break the moment, just enough to pretend it hadn’t happened.

“Focus,” he said. “Fire.”

And somehow, she did.

XII

It was late- one of those hushed, heavy nights where the house was still, and even the walls seemed to be holding their breath.

Riki had been pacing for twenty minutes before he finally gave in and knocked on Jake’s door. Not loudly- just enough to make sure he was awake, just enough that he wouldn’t have time to pretend otherwise.

Jake opened the door half-asleep, shirtless, hair messy, blinking hard against the dim hallway light. “You good?” He asked, voice gravelly.

“I need to talk.”

Jake stared at him for a beat, then sighed and stepped aside. “Come in.”

Riki entered without a word, dropped onto the edge of the bed, palms rubbing over his face like they could scrub away the chaos in his chest. Jake sat across from him, leaning against the headboard, arms folded, waiting.

It took Riki a full minute to say anything.

“I think I’m fucking up.”

Jake frowned. “What?”

“Y/N,” Riki said quickly, like if he didn’t get it out now, he’d swallow it again and let it rot inside him. “I think-” He stopped, hesitating, then took a breath and tried again. “I know I acted like I hated her. I know I was awful to her at first. But something’s… changing.”

Jake tilted his head. “What’s happening?”

“I can’t focus around her,” Riki muttered, his voice lower now, like he didn’t want the walls to hear. “I’ll be mid-sentence and forget what I’m saying. I touch her waist to adjust her stance and my heart’s fucking racing. It wasn’t like this before. I feel like I’m slipping.”

Jake gave a small, knowing smile. “You like her.”

“I don’t-”

“You do.”

Riki let out a sharp breath through his nose. “Jay told you?”

“He told me what he saw in one of your sessions,” Jake said. “Said he’s never seen you look at anyone like that. Said she looked at you the same way back.”

“She can’t,” Riki said, shaking his head.

“And you can’t either. But look where we are.”

Riki looked away, jaw tight with shame and conflict. He wasn’t the type to let himself feel things. But this- whatever this was- had come in through the cracks before he even realized he’d left the door open.

Jake’s voice was gentler now. “How do you think Jocelyn and I even started?” Jake said, shrugging slightly. “It was innocent touches, glances we didn’t mean to hold. Eventually, I kissed her. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew I couldn’t stop myself anymore. And it worked out. Took time, sure. But it worked out.”

Riki didn’t speak, his fingers curling into the blanket beside him.

Jake leaned forward slightly. “This could work out too.”

Riki’s gaze flicked to him, unreadable. “She’s Andrei’s daughter,” he didn’t need to say more. That fact alone carried the weight of a thousand consequences and confessions.

But Jake didn’t mock him. “And Jocelyn is Jay’s sister. And I’m still alive,” he added with a half-smile. “But I made it through. Look, I know we’re all scared of Andrei. I don’t think that’s ever going away. But I also know one thing for sure- if his daughter wants something, she gets it.”

Riki looked up, uncertain. “You think she’d ask for me?”

Jake’s smile deepened, kind but knowing. “She will ask for you.”

And for the first time in days, Riki didn’t argue. He just stared down at his hands, the ones that had trained her, steadied her, touched her more times than he could count and wondered what the hell he’d do if she ever asked.

XIII

Y/N wasn’t exactly sure how to ask for Riki.

He wasn’t some luxury commodity behind glass, not someone she could simply claim or corner. And yet… she wanted him- really badly. Enough that it settled into her bloodstream and made her skin prickle with awareness every time he stood too close or looked at her a second too long.

It was past the point of being a crush. Middle school infatuations didn’t keep you up at night. They didn’t make you forget how to speak, didn’t ruin your appetite, didn’t lodge themselves into your chest until every beat sounded like his name.

For all the hours they’d spent together in the gym, wrapped in silences and glances that came too close, she barely knew anything real about him. The story she pieced together came through fragments- things she’d overheard from guards lingering too long by the kitchen, from maids who whispered between rooms when they thought no one was listening.

They said Riki’s parents had done something- something unforgivable. Something that got him pulled into this world of bullets and blood before he was old enough to decide for himself.

She didn’t ask him. Not because she didn’t want to know- but because she could feel that line between them, the one drawn in silence, in pride. He’d tell her when he was ready. Or maybe he never would. And she’d learn to be okay with that.

But she had learned other things. She knew Riki only drank one brand of water- blue label, chilled, never room temperature. She’d seen him throw away a bottle once because it wasn’t cold enough. She knew that he cracked his knuckles before every new round of training- not out of nervousness, but as if his body needed it, a mechanical reset. She knew that when he helped her adjust her form, his fingers always lingered for exactly one second longer than necessary. She knew he always smelled faintly of cedarwood. And she knew, deep in the marrow of her bones, that he wanted her too. He just hadn’t admitted it to himself yet.

The next session started like any other. Riki barely looked at her when she entered. He tossed her a towel, gestured to the mat, and muttered something about drills. But she didn’t hear it. She was too focused on the way his jaw tensed when their shoulders brushed.

The gym was quiet. Only their breath and the scuff of sneakers against mats filled the air. The silence between them had changed again- it wasn’t cold or distant anymore. It was heavy and loaded. Every time they locked eyes, something passed between them- hot and unspoken.

Riki circled her as she moved, his gaze razor-sharp, hands in his pockets like he needed to stop them from reaching out.

“Back straight,” he said. “Left foot back.” She adjusted, slowly- she knew he was watching. “You’re doing that thing again,” he muttered.

“What thing?” She asked, breathless.

“The thing with your eyes. Darting. Like you’re thinking something you shouldn’t.”

She didn’t answer. Her chest rose and fell a little too quickly. His did too.

He stepped closer. “Y/N,” he said quietly. “Are you- ”

“I’m not thinking about anything,” she lied.

“You are.”

Her eyes met his. And something in him snapped. He didn’t speak. He didn’t warn her. He just moved. In one fluid, inevitable motion, Riki closed the distance between them, one hand cupping her jaw, the other wrapping tight around her waist as he pulled her in and kissed her. It wasn’t soft, nor was it polite. It was weeks of tension crashing at once- every stolen glance, every touch that lingered, every insult thrown like a defense mechanism.

His lips were warm, insistent, desperate in the way they claimed her. And she kissed him back like she’d been waiting her whole life for it.

Her hands gripped his shoulders, his hair, anything she could hold onto as her world narrowed to the space between their mouths. His breath was shaky against hers, and when he finally pulled back just a few inches, their foreheads still touched.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “This is bad.”

Y/N’s lips curved, slow and sinful. “Feels pretty good to me.”

And he pulled her in again.

They hadn’t heard the footsteps. Too lost in each other, in the heat of lips meeting and breath catching, in the way Riki's hand had slipped beneath the curve of her jaw like he was holding something delicate for the first time in years. The world had narrowed to the sharp thrum of pulse and proximity- until it shattered.

“Hey,” Jay’s voice cut through the air like a slap of cold water, casual but just loud enough to be heard. “There’s someone at the gate who claims to be Y/N’s driver-”

They broke apart instantly.

Riki stepped back so fast he nearly tripped over the sparring mat, one hand dragging through his hair, the other stuffed deep into his pocket as if that would make him look less flushed. Y/N spun away from him, turning toward the nearest table and grabbing her water bottle like it had suddenly become the most important object in the world. Her chest still rose and fell a little too fast, her lips were still tingling.

Jay blinked from the doorway, taking in the sight before him- the wide space between them, the breathlessness, the too-casual way Riki avoided eye contact.

Y/N cleared her throat, too quickly. “Driver?” She repeated, brows furrowed. “That doesn’t make sense. He calls me every time he’s on his way.”

Riki’s head snapped up. Jay paused mid-step, the faintest chill sliding into his voice. “That’s… not your driver?”

“No,” Y/N said, eyes narrowing. “I didn’t ask anyone to come tonight.”

Jay didn’t wait for further explanation. “Let’s go.”

The three of them moved quickly through the hallway- Jay in the lead, Riki silently but tightly flanking Y/N’s side like a shadow, his entire body coiled with tension. Behind them, her two assigned bodyguards followed without a word, guns no doubt already unclipped from their holsters.

Through the glass, under the yellow porch lights, stood a man- clean-shaven, suit pressed to the last crease. He held the composure of someone who wanted to look harmless- too put together, too calm.

Y/N squinted. “I’ve never seen him before.”

That was all Riki needed. He stepped forward first, arm across her instinctively, like it had become second nature now. “Stay behind me.”

Jay glanced sideways, expression steel. “Heeseung,” he called out into the house and he appeared from the stairs. “Get his plates. If he moves, shoot.”

The second guard was already reaching for the knob. He opened the door with a steady hand.

The man outside gave a small bow, smiling politely. “Good evening. I’m here for Miss Y/N-”

“What’s the name of her real driver?” Riki cut in, voice sharp enough to wound.

The man hesitated. His smile twitched.

That was all the confirmation they needed.

In a flash, both guards surged forward, seizing the imposter. He fought harder than expected- he wasn’t just a fake chauffeur, he was trained- but they had him down in under a minute, knee to his back, wrists already bound. Riki didn’t blink as the scene played out in front of him. But his fingers curled into fists.

Y/N, meanwhile, stood silent, breath caught halfway in her chest, wide-eyed and stiff. Her gaze stayed locked on the man now pinned to the ground- just another reminder that her world wasn’t normal, that she couldn’t afford to slip. That being Andrei’s daughter wasn’t just a title- it was a target.

Jay’s voice broke the silence. “That’s the second time someone’s tried to take you in six months.”

Without thinking, Riki reached out- just a touch to her wrist, grounding her. “I’ve got her,” he said quietly, mostly to Jay. “I’ll stay with her.”

Jay looked at him for a long, long moment, questioning the integrity in his voice. Then he nodded.

And for the first time, Y/N didn’t flinch from Riki’s hand- she leaned into it.

XIV

The aftermath of the kidnapping attempt left behind more than shaken breath and rattled nerves- it rewrote the rules completely. The very next morning, without ceremony or explanation, Andrei made a decision. There would be no more training at Jay’s house. No more shared spaces or group dinners or the illusion that Y/N was just another girl among her father’s closest allies.

“She stays at home,” he said into the phone, his voice carrying the weight of finality. “If she trains, he comes to her. End of discussion.”

Within hours, the mats from Riki’s gym were relocated, the gear packed and installed in one of Andrei’s lesser-used spare rooms- a space that had once been decorated in heavy velvet curtains and antique frames, now stripped to its bones and dressed in greys, reds, and pale yellows- Riki’s signature palette. The room felt clinical, impersonal, almost too neat, as if pretending that none of this was complicated, as if hearts weren’t involved.

Y/N was already there when Riki arrived- punctual, poised, dressed down in leggings and a plain black tank, her hair pulled back in a ponytail that sat snugly above her neck. But despite her usual composure, she didn’t feel steady. There was a subtle jitter in the way her hand gripped her water bottle, and something flickered behind her eyes- nerves, sparks, confidence.

Riki didn’t say anything at first. He simply stepped in, set down his bag in the corner, and nodded toward the mat.

“Start warming up,” he said, his tone quiet, unreadable- as usual.

And yet, even from the other end of the room, the weight of everything unsaid settled heavily in the air between them- the echo of their kiss from the day before still lingering like fingerprints on skin. It clung to the space around them, invisible but impossible to ignore.

They started with stretches, the kind of drills that required just enough focus to pretend everything was normal, but not enough to stop them from glancing at each other when they thought the other wouldn’t notice.

Riki moved stiffly, his usual ease replaced by hesitance, like he was caught between muscle memory and new habits. He guided her through the routine, correcting her posture with the tips of his fingers, letting his hand linger a second too long on the small of her back before catching himself and stepping away.

Y/N noticed, of course she did. And she hated that it made her smile.

Knife drills came next, the same sequences they’d done dozens of times, but now, every touch- every movement of his hand over her wrist, every adjustment of her stance, every moment where his chest brushed lightly against her back as he leaned in to reposition her grip- felt different. It was no longer just training. It was choreography laced with friction, and the steps were starting to blur.

At one point, she turned to face him directly, her eyes a little darker than usual, her voice lower when she said, “You’re distracted.”

Riki met her gaze, brows raised. “You’re not?”

She opened her mouth to answer but didn’t. Because the truth was- she was. She was more than distracted, she was drowning in the gravity of whatever this thing was becoming.

They stood there, staring, the room too quiet, too still.

And then he took a step forward. He didn’t ask, didn’t give her the chance to overthink it. One moment, there was space between them- and the next, there wasn’t. His hand found her face first, fingers curling softly beneath her jaw, tilting her toward him with a tenderness that contrasted everything about how he’d treated her the last few weeks. His thumb brushed lightly across her cheek, like he was learning her face for the first time, like he was memorizing something he didn’t want to forget.

Then he kissed her.

Not out of impulse, not out of frustration, not because the world had stopped- but because he finally understood that he wanted to. Not just the kiss, not just the way she looked at him like he was more than a soldier or a weapon, but her.

He kissed her because there was no more pretending otherwise.

She leaned into it without hesitation, hands sliding up to his chest, anchoring herself in the rhythm of it, letting herself sink into the security of his arms and the warmth of his mouth and the weight of his unspoken confession.

When they finally pulled apart, breath mingling in the sliver of space left between them, neither of them spoke. Her hands still rested lightly against his chest, his fingers still curved gently along her jaw, and though the kiss had ended, neither of them stepped back. The air between them, once charged with tension and uncertainty, had fully softened. It wasn’t awkward, and it wasn’t restrained. It was just them, suspended in the calm that followed, finally giving in and the risk of being together under Andrei’s roof.

And somehow, that made it all the more desired.

XV

They never talked about the kiss. Not the first one, not the second- not any of them. But they happened. Between drills, between breathless rounds of sparring, between the weight of his hand on her lower back and the way she glanced at his mouth when he corrected her stance- they happened, swift and natural, like gravity..

It wasn’t a performance. There was no dramatic build-up, no declarations of want or need- just fleeting moments.

Sometimes, she’d land a clean hit during a knife drill, and the thrill of it would make her grin too wide. And he’d grab her wrist, tug her toward him, and press a kiss to her mouth like it was the most normal thing in the world- congratulating her.

Other times, when she was too tired to finish her reps but refused to quit, he’d stand behind her, hands on her shoulders, grounding her- and she’d turn without thinking, meet him halfway with parted lips and fluttering lashes. And he’d kiss her, slow, like punctuation to a sentence they never dared speak aloud.

They didn’t talk about it because they didn’t have to. Because they both knew- deep in their chests, in their locked eyes, in the way their hands lingered after every touch- that whatever this was, it had already sunk its roots in. And there was no pulling it out now.

But they did talk- about everything else. Between sets and cooldowns, they learned each other in bits and pieces. She told him about the time she failed her driving test three times, and he laughed- actually laughed, rare and unguarded. He told her about his mother’s cooking, how he still missed it sometimes even though she hadn’t made a meal in years. She learned he didn’t like sweet things, hated the sound of sirens, and always tied his right boot tighter than his left. He learned she liked old films and slept with a reading lamp on. They traded stories like offerings- gentle, ordinary confessions in the middle of an extraordinary situation.

Riki knew he was playing a dangerous game. That if Andrei found out, he wouldn’t just vanish, he and his entire family would be incinerated. But that didn’t exactly stop him.

Because when she looked up at him after landing her best shot, cheeks flushed, pride glowing from her collarbones to her temples, he didn’t see a boss’s daughter, he didn’t see risk. He just saw her.

And when she kissed him- quick and secret, breathless and hot between whispered curses- she didn’t see her trainer, or a soldier, or someone who could be gone tomorrow. She saw him.

And so, the kisses continued- secretive, dashing, daring. But soft and vulnerable all wrapped together like a present.

They built a rhythm in those days. A ritual that was half training and half undoing. He’d correct her grip on the gun, his arms enclosing hers- and she’d lean back slightly, as if daring him. He’d press a kiss to her neck when no one was looking. She’d bite back a smile. Sometimes she’d kiss him mid-sentence- interrupting his scolding about footwork with a grin and her mouth on his, just a second, just enough to make him forget his next word.

And it scared him. Because if he didn’t stop soon, he wouldn’t be able to stop at all.

But for now- for these stolen moments, these dangerous little tastes of something forbidden- he let himself fall… just a little.

Because if being near her was a crime, then every kiss was worth the sentence.

XVI

Jocelyn hadn’t meant to catch it. She had only called Y/N for a quick chat- one of their usual midday check-ins, a moment to vent about the guards being too stiff, the tea being too cold, or Jake leaving his socks everywhere. But as they spoke, Jocelyn caught something else entirely. It wasn't in Y/N’s words, but in her tone- the softness that slipped through when she said Riki’s name, the almost-laugh that caught in her throat when she recounted how he’d corrected her grip too firmly, or how he’d teased her over her stance.

He called her princess.

It was a familiar lilt- one Jocelyn recognized with aching precision. She had once sounded like that too. Still did, when she spoke about Jake in those rare, vulnerable moments- that unguarded fondness, the grin behind the words.

Y/N was falling.

Jocelyn could hear it in the quiet between her sentences.

And yet, she didn’t immediately bring it up. For days after the call, she sat with the realization, unsure of what to do with it. She didn’t want to sound the alarm, didn’t want to startle something fragile before it had fully grown into itself. But in the end, she told Jay- not to expose Riki, not to get anyone in trouble- just so that it wouldn’t be a surprise when it inevitably came to light. Because it would- these things always did.

“Go easy on him, Jay,” she said gently after she told him. “He’s honestly still just a kid.”

Jay didn’t respond. He’d just stood there, arms crossed, expression unreadable. But she saw the way his jaw tightened, how he exhaled a little too slowly- the way someone did when they were calculating the distance between what they wanted to say and what they knew they had to.

The next afternoon, Riki was folding laundry in his room, half-mumbling to himself about a sock that had disappeared and how the dryer probably ate it. His phone was playing something offbeat in the background, and for a second, it almost looked like peace. Almost.

Jay walked in without knocking, the door creaking open behind him. His presence alone changed the temperature of the room. “We need to talk,” he said, voice low but firm.

Riki turned, confused, arms full of unfolded shirts. “What is it, Hyung?”

Jay shut the door, the sound sharp and final behind him. “Drop the act, you little shit.”

Riki blinked. “What-?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Jay interrupted. His tone wasn’t raised, but it carried weight- that same unsettling calm he’d inherited from their early days, when authority didn’t have to be loud to be terrifying.

Riki stood there, awkward and cornered, the shirt in his hands suddenly feeling much heavier than cotton. “I… I don’t-”

“Don’t play dumb.” Jay stepped forward, slowly. “You think I wouldn’t notice? You think I wouldn’t know?”

There was a pause. Riki’s mouth opened slightly as if to respond, then closed again. His eyes dropped to the floor.

“I watched you train her,” Jay continued. “I saw the way you looked at her. The way she looked at you. The tension. The way she couldn’t stop smiling, and you-” Jay exhaled through his nose. “You were practically vibrating.”

Riki couldn’t even deny it.

“You kissed her?” Jay asked, eyes narrowed.

After a beat, Riki nodded once.

“That’s it?”

“Yeah,” he said, quieter now. “That’s it. We’ve kissed. But I didn’t mean for it to happen like this, Hyung. I didn’t plan it. It just happened.”

Jay sat down on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, staring hard at the floor as though it would give him the answer he needed. “Do you have any idea what you’re risking?”

Riki hesitated, then nodded. “I do. I think about it all the time.”

Jay looked up. “Then why are you still doing it?”

Riki swallowed hard. “I don’t think I can stop,” Jay was quiet. “I know it’s stupid,” Riki went on, his voice breaking with honesty. “I know she’s Andrei’s daughter, I know it could ruin everything. But when I’m with her… it doesn’t feel like that. It’s not about power or danger or names. It’s just… her.”

Jay’s expression shifted- not quite soft, but no longer severe. He studied Riki for a long moment before asking, “Do you love her?”

Riki’s breath hitched- he didn’t answer right away. But that silence was answer enough. “I think I’m starting to,” he said finally.

Jay leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “God, you’re both idiots.”

“I know.”

“I mean it,” Jay added, lips twitching into something close to a smile. “This is dangerous. It’s reckless. It could get us all killed.”

“I know,” Riki repeated. “I’m killed.”

“But,” Jay sighed. “I also know what it’s like to fall for someone when you’re not supposed to. When everything says it’s a bad idea. Well- I don’t. But my sister does.” Jay stood, hands on his hips now. “And yeah, I was angry. But it also gave me everything. I wouldn’t take that back.”

Riki’s eyes softened.

“So,” Jay continued, eyes locking with his, “I’m not going to stop you. I’m not going to tell you to end it. But I am going to say this- be smart. Be respectful. Be honest. Don’t treat this like a phase, or a game.”

“I’m not,” Riki said. “I swear.”

Jay nodded slowly. “When the time comes- when Andrei finds out- you won’t face it alone. I’ll stand with you. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

A long breath passed between them. The room felt a little lighter, like permanence had shifted beneath the surface.

Riki nodded. “Thank you, Hyung.”

Jay reached out, ruffled his hair- firm, almost fond, like how he used to when he first met Riki. “Just don’t make me regret it, you punk.”

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

mornings with suguru feel like a pipe dream.

there’s something honeyed in the air, bleeding into the scent of freshly brewed espresso, fried eggs resting on the stove, newly bought flowers on the windowsill — apricot nectar heavy on your tongue, dripping down your lip in a sticky stream. his thumb reaches over to wipe it away before you can even try.

suguru is sitting right in front of you, looking like what dreams are made of. eyes a little bleary, mind still sinking into the reality of morning, hair put up into a messy bun; raven strands tickling his forehead and framing his eyes, warm and fond, a nice mocha brown. he’s wearing a white button-up, the scent of laundry detergent seeping into the fabric. he’s smiling, and you’re so in love you can barely breathe.

he always wakes up before you. always has breakfast prepared, or half-done, by the time you stumble into the kitchen on unsteady feet — you love clinging to his back while he cooks. but you love this even more.

outside the frail glass of your window, the world is subdued by the changing seasons. autumn is in full bloom, the sky enveloped by wet, molten clouds, a light layer of mist; on the ground are a row of golden trees. it’s a cozy, indoor kind of morning, the kind that makes your veins feel all sleepy, heart all tender, as if melted down by the gentle rain — the kind that has you sipping from your cup, rubbing your eyes, watching your fiancé from across the kitchen table.

there’s nectar on your tongue, espresso behind your teeth, and you wish you could open your mouth and speak. but you’re too tired, still far too groggy — far too sentimental. you can scarcely breathe. you can only sit there, and silently think: i could never love anyone like you. could never even come close.

do you have any idea what i’d do for you?

you’re sure he doesn’t. sure he prefers to see himself as your protector, not the other way around — that he’s most comfortable being a caretaker, rather than someone who gets taken care of. you know how he is. it’s in everything; the cup of coffee he made for you, the shirt he draped over you last night. his own, always, as if he thinks the fabric will bring you sweet dreams. it’s in the way he holds your hand when you cross the sidewalk, the way his thumb rubs over your knuckles when you’re anxious. it’s in the rain, gentle and comforting, watering your plant-like heart.

there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him.

nothing. absolutely nothing.

i’d drink a million cups of coffee, one after the other — i’d run out in the rain and pluck the apricots from every tree. i’d listen to that song you like. i’d listen to it until my eardrums bleed, and still wouldn’t stop.

nothing, nothing, nothing.

he turns his head, to gaze out the window, his bangs swaying gently as he does — and your gaze gulps down the lines of his jaw, the bridge of his nose, every flutter of his lashes. he parts his lips, and murmurs something about the weather. he’s smiling, a soft curve, his eyes just barely crinkled —

and you can’t breathe.

you’re so lovely it kills me.

your chest aches with yearning. you want to reach across the table and touch him, but you’re still too immobilized by how beautiful he is, how intense this love has come to feel. how devastating it is, to have this kind of life, to know you can do nothing but savour every bit of it. you can’t stop staring, drinking in his softened features, that content look in his amber-coloured eyes — the rasp under his velvety voice. your baby, your angel, your sun. 

(you want him to shine forever.)

when you look down at the table, there’s an open palm waiting for you. smooth skin, soft lines, gleaming under the dim glow of the kitchen lights. 

you look up, and suguru smiles.

he doesn’t speak until you’ve lifted your hand, tangled your fingers together with his. it feels good, the skin to skin contact, the sight of your rings pressed up against one another. his thumb begins to rub gentle circles into the knots of your knuckles, just the same as always. soothing, rhythmic, a mantra you’ve learned by heart.

”something on your mind?” he asks, softly.

(everything.)

”nothing,” you answer, a quiet lull of your tongue, averting your gaze with a heat to your ears. it’s too early for him to be so gorgeous, to aim his unbridled attention in your direction. ”i just love you…”

his lashes flutter, for a moment.

then his mind catches up to your words, and he laughs — breathy and sweet, the slightest gravelly residue. squeezing your palm in his own.

”i love you too,” he croons, lips curled upwards, and you swear you could never tire of hearing him say those words. ”is someone still a little tired, hm?”

”… maybe.”

a low chuckle. he tugs at your hand, gently, bringing it to his lips; they’re warm against your skin, his hot breath seeping out, gliding across your knuckles, stopping right by your ring finger. his eyes gleam with mirth, like the golden leaves just outside your window, pressed against the glass. his voice comes out as a purr. ”do you need another cup, my love?”

his lips trails down, all the way to your wrist, catching onto your pulsepoint. you can’t help but shiver.

”or should i wake you up just like this?”

he’s smiling, and something about it seems smug. he knows exactly how weak you are. and he must think he’s flustering you, acting so suave — but that’s not quite it. when he’s tilting his head like that, he looks more like a puppy than anything, so cute you think you might just melt right through the floorboards.

through the sleepy haze of your mind, to the tips of your fingers; your brain retaliates.

you tug his hand back, bringing yours with it; all the way to your puckered lips. lazily smearing a kiss on the inside of his palm, just barely catching the hitch of his breath, the inhale his heartbeat deigns to swallow down. it makes you smile, against his skin.

(and the tips of his ears bloom with heat.)

everything i need is you. the words are silent, unspoken, only barely mouthed against his skin. i don’t need the rain or the sun. just you, only you. 

when you pull away, your intertwined fingers finding their way back to the tablecloth, suguru gives you another smile. almost painfully tender.

you can’t help but feed into each other, like this. on sleepy mornings, when the words don’t come as easy, so actions are all you have. that, and loving gazes. all you can think is that you want more autumn mornings; you don’t want any of them to end before you’ve finished sipping from your cup of espresso, finished watching him from across the table. not until you’ve woken up enough to spill the words helplessly building up in the back of your throat, the butterflies stuffed in between your ribs. 

until then, this morning mantra will have no choice but to continue. until then, you’ll opt to stay silent.

until then, all you can do is stare.

(and all your mind can think, is nothing, nothing, could ever measure up to this. nothing in the world.)

[euphoriesx]

pls bring me back from the dead oh god (inspired by a random tt i found whilst doomscrolling even tho i hv an exam tmr...)

itoshi sae considers his biggest weakness to be that he doesn't know anything else besides soccer.

it used to be worth it. kicking the ball around would light up a fire in his heart, every goal scored nothing short of extraordinary. soccer was magic, and he was the wizard with the wand in his hand.

'sae! come here!' the video, taken on a digital camera, plays. he feels like he's in a cinema and the end credits are rolling.

'mama.' a baby sae, in a romper the same shade as his eyes, waddles towards her. there's a soccer ball near him, and he hugs it with all his might.

'i don't know why your dad got you that ball,' she murmurs. 'but you seem to like it very much. who knows? maybe you're a soccer player.'

sometimes he remembers having a dream. oh, to be the best forward in the world alongside his brother. that tiny dream was all he clasped in his hand as he wheeled off his suitcase past the airport gates, all that brought him to life as he left home.

other times he wished he never had a dream at all. maybe now he'd still be in school, figuring out chem projects and essays. maybe he'd be looking at a future where he worked a simple office job from 9 to 5, coming back home to a nice dinner, and resting. friday nights would be a blessing every week, and maybe a wife and kids.

he doesn't want to tell anyone what happened to him in spain. on his soul, he knew he'd changed - he just didn't know how to become who he was before. that was the worst part of it. he mourned the loss of his old self, when soccer was a hobby - most nights in his house in madrid were spent reviewing game footage until his eyes couldn't open anymore and he cried himself to sleep.

despite all the fame, he couldn't sound anything more than monotone in every interview. despite every game won, he had to stand by and watch his teammates cheer loudly and jump all over each other.

is a prodigy a prodigy when they don't enjoy what they do?

besides soccer, itoshi sae doesn't know anything. he can hardly fry an egg without burning the kitchen down, and driving is a hassle. he wants his mom back to do it all for him but he has to swallow that sorrow and hope he's making her proud.

he thought he'd never know how to love, either.

that is, until he met you.

you were a journalist, another one of those people who interviewed players for a job. he hated the way they were so insensitive to how he felt, but you ... when you tried to interview him, he clammed up. not in his usual icy way because he knew interviews were a bother, but because he was shocked to see something else in you.

the same compassion for your job that he had once had for soccer.

the interview was never broadcasted. you'd pulled some strings, knowing he wasn't comfortable.

almost a year later and now, you're in his kitchen, in his house in madrid, humming to yourself as you clasp a cup of coffee in your hand and watch a replay of a barca match, of all things. he doesn't mind. he can't mind with you.

he probably won't ever get that original spark back for soccer again, but god, he had to love life when you were around. snaking hands around your waist and planting them on the cold kitchen counter, he watched the replay with his cheek against yours, head on your shoulder and pinkish hair meshing against yours.

'we beat their asses,' he laughs.

'i know. i'm devastated.' he can't help but give you a peck on the cheek for that one.

'will you burn your iglesias jersey then?' he despised bunny iglesias, almost as much as he despised french fries.

you pause. it's nice that you give him silence. sae likes silence, in a way that that pink bug freak can't give him.

'sadly, no,' you murmur.

'are you saying he's your favorite?'

'no. you know who my favorite is.'

'who?' he quirks an eyebrow, a hand coming to his hip in a pose he knows he does way too much for his own good. he already knows what your answer is gonna be.

'only the best footballer in the world. sae itoshi.'

so sae only knows two things in life. soccer and how to love you.

it's no longer a weakness, though.

[shushmal]

Robin has a love-hate relationship with Steve-and-Eddie. Love, because those are her best friends and her best friends are in love with each other and they never leave her out of anything. Hate, because sometimes she wishes they would because she keeps accidentally third-wheeling herself.

She doesn't hate it that much though, if she's honest. It's just fun to complain, especially because it riles the both of them up.

But right now, she's being quiet so she can witness one of her secretly-favorite Steve-and-Eddie rituals—of which there are many, but this one is silly and endearing.

It starts like this:

The waitress sets down their drinks, lemonade for Robin, coca-cola for Steve, and a cherry soda for Eddie.

"Don't you dare," Eddie says, even as Steve reaches for Eddie's drink, slipping his straw in next to Eddie's and slurping obnoxiously. Eddie doesn't even pretend to stop him anymore. "Unbelievable."

"I just want to taste it!"

"You could just get a whole glass of it! All for yourself!!"

"It's too sweet, I don't want a whole glass."

"What, so you think you can just help yourself to mine?"

Steve's grin is far too smug, even for Robin, even when Steve slides it to her so she can take a sip. Steve is right, it is really too sweet and she wrinkles her nose, but it's worth it for the offended gasp Eddie makes when she slides it back to him.

The diner is their favorite, because everyone who works there has given up on understanding their weird dynamic: Robin and Steve squished into on side of the booth while Eddie's spread out on the other, Robin making gagging noises whenever Steve brushes against her, even though they never sit in any other configuration. The staff has long since stopped asking which of them was her boyfriend, and that's perfect for her.

Besides, she knows that under the table, Steve and Eddie have their ankles locked together like the disgusting love-sick dorks that they are.

The Steve-and-Eddie show continues when their meals come out. Chicken fingers and fries for Steve because he's an actual child, and breakfast for dinner for Eddie because he likes to be contrary. And then the real performance begins.

They "fight" over the ketchup bottle, which really means that Eddie picks it up and Steve snatches it out of his hands—only for Steve to spread it over Eddie's scrambled eggs (gross) for him before he adds a disgusting amount to his own basket.

Eddie makes a game of stealing Steve's fries when he thinks he isn't looking (Steve is, he's tallying each one up in his head, Robin knows this because she's doing it too), and when he finally "catches" Eddie in the act, he steals Eddie's last piece of bacon—the one that's sat untouched for the last five minutes for this very reason.

Then, Eddie's "forcing" Steve to try his grits, like he does every time, and game eats a spoonful of it, every time, and then complains at length how much he hates it (and he actually does hate it, the texture is just not for him, Robin knows because it's the same for her too).

And then they do the worst, most disgusting thing ever: they split the pancake in half. Without fail. Without argument. Every time.

Robin, slurping on her strawberry milk shake that she will NEVER share with anyone ever, thinks that stupid pancake is like the symbol of their love or something. Sh's sure if they weren't in public, they'd be feeding it to each other.

"What?" They say it in unison, and Robin hates when they do that to her.

(Eddie complains about it right back at her, because she and Steve do the same thing to him all the time. They should blame Steve, since he's the common denominator, but he just looks so pleased about them both that they can't rag on him for it, so Eddie remains Robin's sworn enemy and vice versa.)

"What what?" she sneers at them, voice quiet. "You two are disgusting, it's like you're making out right in front of me right now."

"What are you, homophobic?" Eddie hisses back, just as quiet. "I'm in love with your best friend, Buckley. I'm making out with him in front of you for the rest of your life."

"Ugh! I hate you so much."

"Right back at you."

And then they start kicking at each other beneath the table, no doubt catching Steve's ankles in the crossfire. He doesn't tell them to stop though, and Robin can see that pleased, sappy smile on his stupid face out of the corner of her eye, so she lands an exceptionally harsh blow to Eddie's shin in retaliation for making her best friend so happy. He digs his heel into her toes in return.

[wonderlustwrites]

taking the day off

kelvin harrison jr x black!reader summary ; sometimes taking a much-needed break and spending the day with kelvin is all you want... word count ; 4.5k warnings ; none - sweet, teeth rotting fluff cause kelvin is THEE most adorable doting man that's ever done it! ; uhh a lil TINY BABY BIT suggestive but like lets be fr...not really lol ｢ author's note: this is not only PURELY self-indulgent...the entire idea was born from this post + the adorable behind the scenes tiktok kelv posted during mufasa era, so thank him for that ♡ ｣

The sun wakes you up first. Normally, the curtains block out the sun, but they weren't closed enough this morning. The extra heat on your face bothers you and causes you to turn over in your sleep, only you turn face-first into Kelvin's shoulder and chest. 

Groaning softly, you lightly push at him, attempting to lean further into him. So long as it blocks the sun out and you can keep feeling him against you, you're good, but it's still annoying. 

"Mmmm, Kelv…." You hear him groan softly, saying your name back, which causes you to smile sleepily against his shoulder. Then you remember why you're "mad". You bite his shoulder lightly and poke at his side. 

"You forgot to close the curtains last night again, stinky…" He turns to lie on his back, his arm finding your waist as he looks at the time on the nightstand. 

"M'sorry, baby…I'll make us breakfast this morning to make it up to you?" he says through a soft yawn. You pick your head up slightly at his words, bringing your hand up to one of his dreads. You twirl your finger around it, teasingly pulling against it twice, causing him to sleepily look your way with raised eyebrows and a faint smile.

"I want french toast, home-fries and scrambled eggs…" you say through your own playful glare at him. You look at each other for another moment or so, and he rolls his eyes jokingly and reaches over to steal a small kiss from you. 

"Okay…I think we can make that happen." he presses his forehead against yours as you nod softly with a smile tugging at your lips, and he gives you a quick kiss on your temple before stretching as he stands. Small things like this are very much his thing. He knows you aren't actually upset or anything, but if it can possibly get a smile out of you or make you happy, you can bet he will get it done.

You turn over in bed, rolling to his spot and laying on his pillow. He laughs lowly as he kisses your shoulder, arm, and cheek. 

"Do you have work today, pretty?" he asks, sitting on the edge of the bed near you as he checks his phone for any missed calls or messages. Groaning softly into the pillow, you shake your head, causing him to look back and rub a thumb against the edge of your hairline. The small action causes you to just barely fall back asleep until you hear him speak again. 

"Good, so that means you can get up with me then…" you groan softly into the pillow, shaking your head.

"Need. Sleep." you hear him laugh slightly as he just barely pulls the covers off you, and he coos at what he sees.

You feel his hand just barely graze your skin from your calf and up your leg to the back of your knee, upwards gliding his fingertips against your thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake and causing you to shiver slightly with the cool air in the apartment.

His fingers leave you for just a moment, before he slightly lifts your (his) t-shirt that barely covers your ass and that causes you to slap his hand away.

"Kelvin! Stoppp being annoying and gooooo if you’re gonna make us breakfast please…" you say as you turn to face him. He laughs with a scrunched up face as his hand lays at his chest dramatically.

"Aye…ain’t my fault you got it alll on display over there…" rolling your eyes, you shoo him away with your right hand again as you lay your face back in the pillow, attempting to get a little more sleep.

Kelvin catches your hand and grasps at it, holding it to his chest and stroking your arm softly. From your fingers to your wrist, up your forearm, ending at your elbow and back down again. Despite him trying to be sweet, and it very much working, never failing to send warm butterflies to your stomach and shivers down your spine; nevertheless, it also makes you all the more sleepy as well, which is the exact opposite of what he wants.

"But babyyy, come on, you don’t have work, and I have a full day ahead of me. At least come downstairs while I make breakfast…" you pick your head up just slightly, seeing his little puppy dog eyes, lip poked out and all, and you can't help but grumble as you pull yourself out of bed with an annoyed groan.

Your reaction gets an earnest laugh from him as he throws some clothes on, and you snatch up a pair of his sweats, putting them on as you both head down to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

Once you got downstairs, he had just finished putting on a pot of coffee for you both. You watch him as he takes out everything he'll be cooking for the two of you while you take a seat at the kitchen island. 

"So what is on your agenda for today, Mr. Harrison, hm?" you ask, leaning on your arms as you stare at his back, part of you wanting to get up just to lean up against him, but you aren't sure how far you'll get before you fall on the floor‒

"…And when I woke up, the alien probing me started dancing with Beyoncé, and we both won the Nobel Peace Prize for killing a fish…" He says as he watches you nodding off against your arm on the island. He shakes his head with a fond smile, turning back to the stove and setting some butter in the pan. 

You don't even remember dozing off before you feel yourself falling, causing you to jump up slightly to catch yourself before sliding completely out of the chair. You wipe at your face slightly, yawning and stretching so you can stay awake and upright. 

"Yeah, yeah…that sounds amazing, baby. I love turtles too…" you say through your yawn, stretching your arms above your head, watching Kelvin's back as he flips another slice of French toast. He turns to you with an unimpressed face. 

"Girl, I- be quiet…" he says with a chuckle. When the sleep takes over, you both know damn for well listening is the LAST thing you are doing. He takes the slice out of the pan, setting a fresh one in and faces you, shaking his head as he cuts up some cooked potatoes for your home fries. 

The smell in the kitchen begins to wake you, a mixture of the sweet and cinnamon and the savory smell of the sauteing peppers and onions makes your stomach growl. You can't help but slide yourself out of your chair and slyly head around the other side of the table, snaking your arms around his waist and laying your face between his shoulder blades.

You hum in contentment, happy to feel him against you again, even if it is just for a moment; however, the small hum he makes and the way he leans himself into you lets you know it'll be a little longer than that.

Especially when your hands start to wander, finding themselves under his sleeveless shirt and against his sides and chest. Your palms feel against him for a few moments, letting your fingertips run just slightly under his belly button and against his hip bones.

You both feel and hear him shiver against you, saying your name softly into the air with just a hint of warning to it and that makes you giggle in satisfaction against him. You stop your teasing…for now. Keeping your hands in a safe place, lightly stroke against his stomach as you give him a small kiss to the back. 

"M'sorry, I'll be nice…and sorry for falling asleep…again. What're we doing today, bubba?"

He groans slightly at the loss of your hands against his skin as he turns off the stove, and he plates the last of breakfast while giving you a small once-over of what his day will look like. 

He makes you a quick plate, pours you some coffee, and cuts a piece of your French toast, holding up the fork to your mouth, and you happily open, welcoming the warm bread as you haven't eaten in hours. 

"Aht aht…where's my thank you?" he says softly as he pulls back the fork still full of food. You sigh defeated, laying your forehead against his chest.

"Thank you." you mumble into his chest. His laugh rumbles in his chest, making you smile, and he tsks at you. 

"What? Huh? I don't think I heard you correctly…" you pick up your face slightly, laying your chin against his chest with a slight scowl, causing nothing but the most pleased smirk on his face.

You "force" a smile on your face, knowing that seeing his own just makes you want to kiss him all the more. "Thank you so much baby for making us breakfast…You're so sweet and funny and sexy, and if I wasn't so tired, I would just li‒" he stuffs the fork in your mouth, not letting you finish your sentence as he rolls his eyes. He tries his best to ignore the tingle you always manage to give him by doing nothing, but especially when you get like this in the mornings. Being extra clingy and wanting him. 

"Just‒ eat. Eat the damn food woman…" he forces down his slight blush and smile as he feeds you and picks off your plate. You smile with a full mouth, enjoying the food, it's exactly what you needed to wake up. And, of course yummy looking, scruffy Kelvin in the morning. That always helps too. 

After you finish breakfast, he sips at his coffee sitting on the couch, tapping away at his laptop while you finish the dishes. Once you finish, you dry your hands and head over to Kelvin on the couch. Lightly throwing your arms around his chest, stroking softly at it as he answers some emails. 

He sets his coffee down on the table, humming softly in appreciation, reaching a hand up to stroke against your arm. "Mmm hello pretty, what's the matter?"

His actions and soft words warm your entire being, from the soles of your feet to the deep recesses of your mind, that are only really wrapped up in and on one thing: him.  You both have been a lot busier lately, Kelv with his upcoming movie and you more than ever at work; and as much as you enjoy your jobs, you've missed him so much more and who knows when you'll ever get another free day like this? So you set it in your mind that you will enjoy it as much as you possibly can, despite him having a full day of work ahead of him. 

You kiss the side of his temple, laying your face against his as you breathe softly for a moment, just enjoying the moment with him. 

"Nothing…nothing at all. Just missed you. But! Today, I shall be your shadow…so to speak." you say as you reluctantly separate yourself and find a seat next to him.

It's almost second nature as you sit, stretching to lean back against the armrest of the couch and watching as he sets his laptop aside, pulling your legs over his lap. The actions, though so simple, so small, and so subtle, still manage to grab a tender grin out of you. He strokes your leg as he lays his head back against the couch, looking at you with a playful smirk. 

"My shadow, you say? Hm, I like the sound of that…" you laugh with a playfully glare. 

"Mhmm, something told me you would…" you say aloud, nodding. He yawns softly as his laptop chirps. He doesn't want to, but he pulls his eyes away from you to see what the email was. You watch as he sighs and lays his head back, looking at you once again. 

"Seems like our day is starting sooner rather than later?"

He nods with a small pout to your question. And that…is more than enough for you. You pull yourself up abruptly from your cozy position and find yourself straddled comfortably on his lap; exactly where you belong. 

His hands find your waist, and your hands find his hairline and lay against his scalp respectively, softly grazing at it. He closes his eyes for a couple of minutes, enjoying the attention and affection he's been missing. 

"Well, since I am with you today, you simply lead, and I will follow…how long we got before the day starts?"

He clears his throat, running his fingers along your legs, as if he's playing piano; his idle way of letting you know that he's thinking. You give him a few moments of silence, and eventually, he opens his eyes, looking at you with a faint smile, sighing as he runs a hand along his face. 

"11am, and I still gotta shower and shave at least a little."

You kiss his forehead, leaning against his, and smile.

"Well, it’s only 9:35, so you have a little more time. You can go shower, change, and shave…only a little of this beautiful face, and you’ll be ready to go. It’s fine, we still got time." He shakes his head as he laughs a little at your words.

"Only a little huh?" You sit up, leaning back a little, and look at his face as you grab his chin lightly with your hand.

"Mhmm…you know I like the scruff, so you may only! Trim it…just a little…"

He leans forward, closing the space between you, laying his hands on your back and waist, and looks at you with a fond smile and warm eyes and you can’t help but feel all the love he holds for you.

"Yes ma’am…" he nods his head and you kiss him softly on the lips, slipping just barely out of his loose grip so he can get a move on for his day.

You pat against his leg, getting comfortable on the couch and stretching a bit.

"Now…go shower, no lingering…" You sport a playful glare. Knowing when he has things to do, if you give him an inch, he’ll take the mile to ensure he’s wholly distracted by you instead of doing what he’s supposed to.

He groans lightly and reluctantly gets up to start heading towards the bathroom, and once he gets towards the steps, you turn to watch him a little closer.

"And as much as I hate to see you leave, I sure do love to watch ya walk away, mMM!"

As he walks up the stairs, he playfully grumbles out

"I heard that, ya nasty…" causing you to laugh as you attempt to catch up on a bit of sleep as he gets ready for the day.

11AM - Accent Coaching + Line Read w/ Jack Fuller 

Kelvin comes back down after finishing his shower and shaving (only a little trim!) and is ready for the day more or less, and as he finds your sleeping form snoring your little life away, he can't help but smile fondly.

You are the only person he knows that can fall asleep at the drop of a hat, no matter WHERE you are either, that’s the most insane part of all for him. He shakes his head, grabs his laptop, and heads over to the kitchen island to set up his things.

He grabs a bottle of water and his script, leaving it near his laptop and heading back over to you. He stands above your sleeping frame, lightly stroking at your face, taking in how peaceful you look when you sleep. He bends down with a smile, saying your name softly and leaving a few pecks on your forehead.

"Prettyyy, my meetings starting soon. If you wanna sleep a little more, you can, but I don’t wanna disturb you."

The feeling of him touching and kissing you makes you wake up before anything else. As you let your eyes adjust, hearing him call you pretty makes you sleepily smile. He says it so often that it might as well be your name. You nod understanding as you sit up and yawn.

"No no, m'alive I promise…I need to get up anyways, gotta work on some stuff." You give yourself a moment more to wake up as he reads through his script, saying lines aloud, and you smile as you stand, grabbing your laptop and headphones so you can get a bit of work done. 

Just as you finish setting yourself up, and get comfortable, you hear him ask if you're good and you have everything.

You turn, nodding, "Yeah, I'm good, I'm okay…good luck." you call out in a sing-songy voice, giving him a wink.

You open up one of your long forgotten projects, attempting to get some writing done since it's still your day off as well. You put on your chill playlist and you manage to get into a nice groove, trying your best to at least get a little done, every once in a while you take small peaks at Kelvin, he seems like he's enjoying himself, you know the accent was something he was excited to try, but was fairly nervous about, as he wanted to sound as authentic as possible. 

After about an hour or two of writing, a few more peaks of Kelvin, you wanna know how it's going so you take your headphones off and listen in as you work a bit more; though, it's mostly you just listening to him and you can't help but laugh softly, he sounds good, great even. 

He is currently working on a scene where he meets a possible love interest, and after a few corrections, you hear him breathe heavily. He tries to keep it down, but with the small playing against his leg and the lightly clenched jaw, you can tell he's getting frustrated. 

You set your laptop aside, lying your headphones on the coffee table, and head over to him in the kitchen on your way to refill your water bottle. You let your hand graze against his back as you pass him., trying to give him a little touch to let him know you're here. Once you finish, you lay another hand on his back, giving a small greeting to his coach, Jack.

He smiles as you catch up, allowing Kelvin a moment to calm down and get out of his head for a bit. Kelvin's arm finds your waist as Jack catches you up on what they've been working on. You catch Kelvin's eye, and without speaking, he simply nods, knowing you really just wanted to check in. He gives you a small squeeze as Jack asks if you wouldn't mind helping out and reading for the new character. Kelvin gives you a small smile, and you shrug slightly. 

"Uhh, yeah, sure why not…I won't be as good as Kel, but I'll try!" He laughs as he points at the lines he needs you to read in his book. 

Once Jack gives you both the go-ahead, you begin.

"…I thought you said you didn't recognize me…" you look between him and the script, and as you finish your line, he sighs and looks you in the eyes. 

"Well. I lied. And I know it was dumb of me, but I needed to see you again…" Seeing him so in his mode, and you actually being a part of it, it's almost like you don't even know who he is; he completely becomes his character. 

They both clear their throat, and you come back to, looking down at his script, realizing it's your line next. 

"Oh! Sorry heh..uhm, okay. — No. There is nothing more to say…I leave tomorrow, so this'll be the last time you will ever see me. I made my choice."

You watch him closely, trying your best to follow his lead and stay as focused as you possibly can. 

He pauses at your words, almost looking offended, hurt even and it gives you pause, making your heart and chest feel heavy. You understand that you both are playing characters, but that doesn't break your heart any less upon seeing how hurt he looks.

Leaning forward, he puts a soft hand on your face, looking you deeply in the eyes, following each one as if it is its own entity and he commands all your attention. 

"I hurt you, I-I know this. But please…please. If you feel for me, anything at all, then you'd stay—"

He leans forward, kissing you with everything he could possibly muster in his heart and soul, and you feel it all. You feel everything. 

He gives you one last peck, opening his eyes as he slowly draws back slightly and strokes your cheek with his thumb. 

"Promise me you'll stay." 

You are completely dumbfounded and rendered speechless by the man in front of you. You can't even bring your eyes away from him to see what your next line is, and all you do is nod softly and thoughtlessly. You don't know what his character did, and frankly, you couldn't care less…you're staying. 

Hearing Jack's voice is what brings you back down to earth; you all but fall into Kelvin, and he kisses your forehead proudly as he listens to Jack's small notes, though otherwise, it is a completely flawless scene.

3PM - Monthly Fitting for Tom Ford + GOLF le FLEUR  w/ Stacey Irmac

As you and Kelvin arrive at the office, you’re excited, and he can practically feel you buzzing against the hand he holds.

He looks at you as he leads you to the main room they use for fittings, and you can’t help but smile at his confused but sweet face.

"You’re that excited about this? In all honesty, it’s not that interesting. I don’t want you to get your hopes up, and it’s boring the whole time."

You laugh softly, bumping him with your hip as he holds the door open for you.

"Even if it's the longest, most boring process ever, I don’t really care. Getting to hang with you for the day is so rare PLUS, I get to see you in a bunch of expensive ass clothes. I’d say win/win I don’t know…" you shrug as you find a spot on the couch, he introduces you to Stacey, his image consultant that works with his team from time to time, and you greet his stylist Aisha.

They jump in pretty quickly, not wasting time getting him out of his clothes and into new ones. Figuring where he could wear some of the pieces and if he’s comfortable in them.

You brought along your small camcorder, just wanting to have memories of today for yourself. You try to be as out of the way and inconspicuous as possible, filming small moments of them changing certain bottoms, jackets, sweaters, and even some jewelry. For each of the sets they like as a group, Kelvin gets some shots taken and it is added into his own little fashion portfolio.

Kelvin turns and sees when he can and makes faces at the camera, sending little winks and peace signs and even blowing you kisses. All that can be heard outside of the music playing overhead are your laughs and very much approving words with each outfit you like.

About almost 2 hours into the fitting, though you both are there for Kelvin, Stacey prompts you, asking if you would be open to trying something as she has a couple of pieces from a previous fitting that she needs a women to model, and after a little prodding by Aisha and Kelvin you agree.

She has you in a beautiful sheer gown with velvet running up and down the frame of the dress; it has complementary and pleasing cutouts that perfectly capture your figure. And the way the plum color sits against your brown skin is almost like it was made for you. You take a few shots with Kelvin in a simple sheer shirt that matches your dress and an elegant black suit jacket with embellishments on the cuffs and simple black slacks. It's such a perfect medium for you both, and in its own way, you both are the statement piece.

6PM - Weekly Check-in w/ Management Team

By the time you both get back home, you're both pretty exhausted. Thankfully, you expected this, so you picked up some dinner on the way home, so you both had one less thing to worry about. 

Since it's Friday, you know Kelv has his weekly call with his team about what his next week and sometimes even as far as what the next month will look like for him. You set your things down as he gets himself set up in the living room. You bring over his food and give him a small kiss on the head, hearing him hum in appreciation. 

"I'll be upstairs if you need me, ok?" he nods softly, and just before you walk off, he calls out to you again, laying his head back against the couch.

"One more, please…" at first, you look at him confused, and then you laugh, shaking your head as you head back over to the couch. You give him the softest kiss you can muster on his forehead, watching as he closes his eyes, relishing in the feeling of your lips against him.

"That all, Mr. Harrison?" You ask, leaning your arm against the couch. To which he nods and grins like a kid in a candy store. 

"Yep, I'm all goood now…" you laugh and make your way upstairs to your shared bedroom. 

"Thank you, by the way…I'm really happy you were able to hang out with me today."

You can't help but smile, you had such a great day with him as well. It's never a dull moment when you two are together, but getting to see Kelvin in his element and even getting to take part, you feel pretty damn lucky.

"Aww baby, thank you for letting me be a little fly on the wall with you today, hopefully, we can do it more. Not that I didn't know it, but your job's pretty fun…I like it." You give him a small wink as you head upstairs, and you hear him clear his throat dramatically, right as you reach the top step.

"MANNN, I SUREEE DO LOVE TO SEE YOU WALK AWAY TOO!!!! DAMN!"

You can't help but laugh, even snort, knowing the serious moment can't ever last too long with him. Your heart swells in your chest as you let yourself fall back on your bed, going over the day in your head again. The power that man has to put you in the best mood will never fail to put the biggest smile on your face, whether he tries or not. You are just happy to know you can make him feel even a fraction of how he makes you feel, especially doing something as small as just existing with him while he gets to be the star of the show. 

And it's the best damn show in the world, and you can bet you'll be in the front row everytime.

☋ any and all comments, reblogs and likes are BEYOND appreciated and i shall repay you in my love ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

⇒ headers made by @uzmacchiato + @strangergraphics

© wonderlustwrites

[fallendaria]

Winx Club x Stardew Valley au pt. 2

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊

Stella

Birthday: Summer 18

Loved gifts: cream, fruit salad, star fruit, maple bar

Liked gifts: Banana pudding, mango, pink cake, all geode minerals (uses them for tailoring)

Hated gifts: all vegetable crops(except potato), fried calamari, fried eel

Weapon: ring of Solaria (not an in-game weapon)

Introduction:

Stella is a distant relative to Mayor Lewis. He is her great-uncle (brother of her grandfather) on her father's side. She comes to Pelican Town during summer and for the egg festival each year. She moves in permanently at the beginning of year two.

Stella and Bloom met during one of these summers when they were young. They were wandering off to the mines and, of course, got attacked.

Stella discovers that the special ring her mother gifted her can channel the celestial energy it's charged with and give her magical abilities. She transforms and saves them both in that moment.

Now she is a secret magical girl. yes. (Bloom doesn't get powers (yet) thus she's good at fighting)

Ring can be charged with sunlight and moonlight(only full moon).

Very useful in the mines.

The ring needs to recharge during a full moon and sunny days. (Like a crystal 0-0)

Allows the wearer to wield the energy of the sun and the moon(if they charged it ._ .)

Home:

Lewis's house would have a second floor that she gets to use(basically part of the house is for her now.)

The decorations in her room change after she moves in and the place becomes more personalized to her.

Schedule:

Goes to the Stardrop Saloon every Friday and Sunday night like most of the villagers.

Spends time over at Emily and Haley's house.

Favorite place is the resort on Ginger island.

Visits Bloom during her working hours at the flower shop.

The winx use her house to gather there.

About:

Stella has complicated home life due to her parents being divorced. She never talks about it.

She is not a big fan of mud or farming in particular but she loves the magical aspect of Stardew Valley.

Stella is extroverted and outgoing. She can talk to anyone and find common ground with them even if they have nothing in common.

Adopts introverts. (Bloom)

Has an appreciation for everything beautiful and fashionable.

Ofc loves shopping like og Stella.

Quests:

Bring her random items to use in her crafts.

Special quest: she wrote a secret letter and put it in a bottle but she dropped it in the river on her way to the beach. We need to find it and throw it in the ocean 💀 the player will have the option to read the letter or respect her privacy

Relationships:

Well, of course, she's besties with Bloom. They make time for each other and explore the caves with the help of her magical abilities. However, Stella doesn't have the same adventurous thrill driven spirit as Bloom does, and she doesn't like the 'getting dirty' part of it all.

Close with Haley and Emily.

Haley and Stella would take small trips to Zuzu City for shopping. They'd have a lot to talk about

Emily and Stella can bond over tailoring and making custom pieces of clothing.

Stella would adore Emily's clothing therapy.

I can imagine the three of them putting together a fashion show in town(similar to Leah's art show event)

Lewis wishes she helped out around the house more. They won't fight about it because Stella is a sweet talker.

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊

[milkoomi]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ a guide to preparing for a new semester ᝰ.ᐟ

part two

previous

i wanted to add a few more tips from the previous post i made for this! it won’t be an entire series, but i got to thinking and realized there are other things i wanted to discuss!

let’s begin !!

ᝰ.ᐟ sleep schedule

it’s extremely important to get 7-8 hours of sleep every night. i feel like this idea of pulling all-nighters and doing these extreme study sessions are almost glorified amongst students. everyone dreams of being the “perfect” or best academic weapon, but let’s be honest here: sacrificing your sleep— your health— will only make you sacrifice your grades.

there are countless studies out there that show the importance of sleep, so please make sure you’re getting a good amount of rest! your brain needs to recharge just as the rest of your body does! matter of fact, your body can’t function unless your brain has the energy to provide that functionality.

creating a sleep schedule

go to bed and wake up at the same time every day. i created this post on getting better sleep & creating a good nightly routine! i always try to be in bed and asleep by 10:30pm and wake up at 6:30am. not only do i get my desired 8 hours, but it helps me maintain my routine!

no screen time 1 hour before bed. i mentioned this in the post i liked previously, but it’s seriously so important to stay off your phone when you’re trying to go to sleep. i stop using my phone around 8:30-9pm and ever since doing so I’ve gotten much better sleep and it’s been easier for me to fall asleep!

ᝰ.ᐟ fuel your mind

this point i’m about to make is purely my own opinion and what has genuinely helped me just get through my day, but: eat breakfast. i am a firm believer of “breakfast is the most important meal of the day” because there were days i didn’t have breakfast and i felt dead inside. like seriously! without that nutritional energy that my body and my brain needed, i just felt so lethargic and exhausted.

i know a lot of people tend to skip breakfast, but even as your day progresses it’s important to make sure you get that brain food in your system. whether it’s a good snack or a great meal, make sure you have something in your system!

juno’s fav breakfast meals

oatmeal with slices of banana!! i usually have the Quaker brand (the maple & brown sugar is my favorite) and then i just add some banana slices! really quick and easy, but still something filling and nutritional!

avocado on naan bread!! i usually make this when i have more time in the mornings just because i like to add either a fried egg or some bits of bacon on my little breakfast sandwich! you can also substitute the naan bread with a bagel! i also like to spread a little bit of cream cheese on the bread!

yogurt and granola!! this is another quick & easy breakfast option i love! i use just about any yogurt that i might have in my fridge and then i add granola! i’ll also add any fruit that i’m feeling that day (especially if the yogurt i have is just plain)!

ᝰ.ᐟ change your mindset

i know a lot of have had this mindset of “i have to go to school/to study” but instead we should have a mindset of “i get to go to school/to study!”

when we view school or studying as a chore, our mindset can quickly change into something that doesn’t motivate us and that makes us hesitant to focus our minds on our academics. getting to have an education is a privilege and we have to treat it as such. we’re lucky enough to be able to attend school/college/university, so we have to make our time learning and studying worth it.

when you think of school/studying, think to yourself how blessed you are to be able to take the time you have and put it towards your education! change your mindset so that you feel motivated to be in school and to study!

ᝰ.ᐟ final notes

how you treat yourself and your health and how you view school can either make or break you during this new semester. so, i’m going to repeat myself once again: take care of yourself! your health, your mental well-being, and your mind all need to be taken care of if you want to excel during this semester and throughout your academic career! you also have to remain positive, burn out and frustrations with your education are very real things, but you have to make sure you’re able to pick yourself back up when things start going south. i truly hope this new semester for those of you still in school is a great one! always do your best because your best is enough and always remember to take good care of yourself and be kind to yourself!

with lots of love, juno 🌷

[puckinghischier]

I’m deprived from domestic/soft Nico thoughts. Please help me feed my delusions 💭💭💭

so due to the mountain of snow that’s still plaguing where i live, i have a very specific, basic, and lowkey mundane thought about nico being all soft and lovey

maybe it’s the fact i’ve had to walk up and down my half mile driveway the past week just to get to my car and go to work, but the thought of nico shoveling snow for you is making me warm n fuzzy rn

like, he’s so busy. he’s gone all the time, constantly at the rink, playing in games, at the gym, or doing events for the team. but to think about him getting up before you have to be at work, even after he got home from a roadie well into the early hours of the morning, is making me hyperfixate.

because he knows how cold you get and how much you hate getting out of your warm bed on a normal day, much less when you have to get up earlier to allot time for scraping and defrosting your car. so even if he only crawled into bed with you a couple of hours ago, he’s up and outside before your alarm—which he reset back to your normal time—goes off.

he bundles up and grabs the ‘snow broom’ that stays perched outside for occasions like this, and gets to work. first he shovels a small path to your car, making sure your feet stay warm and dry in the snow boots he bought you last christmas. then he starts brushing off every bit of snow he can off of your car, starting it and letting the inside warm up while he works.

after he gets every flake of snow he can off, he turns your seat warmer on high and heads back inside. he gets to work brewing your coffee—no matter how crazy he thinks you are for drinking it iced in this weather—and making a quick breakfast for you to eat on the run. he’s halfway through achieving the perfect fried egg to go on top of your bagel when he hears your shrieks, feet thumping towards him.

“nico! i’m gonna be late! my alarm didn’t go off on time m! i have to go clean my car off. oh my god i’m soooo gonna get in trouble!”

you come into view, covered in only a t-shirt (nico’s) and otherwise bare legs, stumbling as you try to slip a boot on one foot while balanced on the other.

“you gonna go outside like that, müsli?” he smirks, looking at you over his shoulder, not wanting to mess up his egg masterpiece.

you look down, almost like you’d forgotten you weren’t wearing pants, then back up at him.

“why are you awake?” you suddenly remember his late arrival, rolling over long enough to give him a kiss and snuggle into his warmth before slipping back into oblivion last night.

nico turns the stove off, slipping his perfect egg right on top of the plate on the counter next to him before turning to look at you.

“thought i’d be a nice boyfriend today and clean your car off before you got up. should be nice and warm for you by now,” he beams, loving how frazzled you look in his clothes. the toaster dings, throwing the bagel inside into view, stealing his attention. “oh, and i almost have your breakfast ready. your coffee, too.”

you watch him in awe as he walks over to grab the heated bread out of the toaster, spreading butter on both pieces before laying half of a perfectly cut avocado on one side. he grabs the plate with the most delicious looking fried egg on top of it and slides the egg right off onto the bagel, salt and peppering it before placing the other half of the bagel on top, completing the sandwich.

he turns to you with a smile, amused at the expression of surprise on your face.

“better hurry and go get dressed. don’t want you to be late, now, do we?” he winks, wrapping your breakfast sandwich in aluminum foil to conserve some of its heat.

once the sandwich is securely wrapped and set aside, he walks over to your frozen figure, placing a finger under your chin to tilt your face up to his as he looks down at you.

“i love you, you know that? every day. all the time. forever and ever,” he repeats the phrase you two share anytime he leaves to go out of town, placing a delicate, loving kiss to your lips.

you still haven’t spoken a word, too consumed with him and your shock at how you ended up with someone like him, when he places his hand on your shoulders, turning your body around to face the hallway you just came from. you don’t expect the smack to your ass that comes, jolting you forward slightly, forcing you to take a few steps paired with the small push from nico at the same time.

“go on now, woman. go get dressed. your coffee will be waiting when you get done.”

you turn around to give him a middle finger, but the moony, lovesick smile on your face as you retreat back to your bedroom, the fading sound of nico’s laughter ringing through your ears, reveals how you really feel about the god-send of a man standing in your kitchen.

[creampuffqueen]

Avatar Yangchen's Favorite Foods

My winter break boredom combined with my chronic writing procrastination have combined to form Yangchen Thoughts at never before seen levels.

AKA, I was doing a bit of research into potential Air Nomad cuisine and suddenly found myself needing to know what Yangchen's favorite foods would be. So here we are.

Most of the foods listed will be primarily of Tibetan origin, considering that is the main cultural inspiration for the Air Nomads. However, because Yangchen spent a large portion of her life in different Earth Kingdom cities, there will be some dishes taken from other cultures as well. I will be providing links to as many recipes as possible! (Note: some of the recipes themselves are not vegetarian, but could easily be modified so to fit with the Air Nomads' vegetarian lifestyles).

Now, when it comes to food, Avatar Yangchen strikes me as someone who prioritizes function over flavor. Obviously she prefers her food to taste good, but she's more concerned with what said food can do for her, convenience-wise. She prefers foods that can be eaten on the go, snacked on while working, or downed relatively quickly. As well, she wants her food to be on the filling side, which lessens the amount of time she has to spend eating. She's quite pragmatic about her food. (Is this a good thing? I suppose that's up to you to decide). Finally, her cooking skills are pretty minimal, so most of her favorite dishes are quite simple to make.

Most of this post will be under a cut because, as per usual, I can never make anything short :)

Butter Tea

This is a very traditional Tibetan drink, and it's one that Yangchen would have grown up drinking. It's actually mentioned in The Dawn of Yangchen! It's a drink she would find very comforting, as well as filling due to it being nearly half butter.

Breakfasts

Tomato Egg Soup

It's quite literally what it sounds like. This is a breakfast dish, probably very common in the Earth Kingdom and/or Fire Nation. It's simple to make, but hearty and warm.

Shom-Dae - Rice Pudding

This is a rice pudding made with yogurt. It can be eaten with fruit as a filling breakfast, or sweetened to be made into a dessert. Yangchen doesn't have much of a sweet tooth, so she prefers this for her breakfast.

Snacks

Bhobi

This is basically a Tibetan burrito. A soft, thin flatbread wrapped around various fillings. Typically these can have anywhere from 3-5 different fillings, consisting of things such as stir-fried vegetables, noodles, eggs, you name it. Yangchen would absolutely be a fan of the versitility, and would likely make these to use up leftovers for a tasty snack.

Shogo Khatsa - Spicy Potatoes

As the name implies, this dish is made up of spicy potatoes. I think Yangchen would actually be a huge fan of spice, and as such would totally love these. She would probably also dip them in Sepen, which is a Tibetan tomato-based chili sauce.

Various Street Foods

Yangchen would love trying local street foods at all the places she visits, but she has a few favorites. Fried tofu, spring rolls, and spicy cucumbers. They're all very easy on the go snacks.

Onion Tingmo

This snack is definitely more of a comfort food. These are a type of steamed bun with green onions folded in, and I think these would be Yangchen’s guilty pleasure; the kind of food she could eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Meals

Tenchung - Lentil Soup

The Air Nomads would certainly be fans of lentils, considering their high protein and iron content. This is another very simple soup, but would be very comforting and nostalgic for Yangchen - as well as quite filling.

Mokthuk - Momo Soup

Momos are Tibetan dumplings, which Yangchen would enjoy eating on their own, but when added to a hearty soup the dish is called Mokthuk. As you're probably starting to figure out, I think Yangchen is a pretty big soup fan. Just like in the attached video, Yangchen would load her soup up with chili oil for added spice.

Pishi - Tibetan Dumpling Soup (also known as "Lemur-Face Soup")

This soup is extremely similar to Mokthuk, but the dumplings are made in a different way and more resemble wontons. This dish is often colloquially referred to as "Lemur-Face Soup" by Air Nomad children, as the folded dumplings resemble the faces of flying lemurs. Because the dumplings for this soup require a bit of extra effort, it would have been a rare treat growing up. Yangchen loves it both for the flavor and the fond memories it brings.

Desserts

Tenshi-Bhakthuk

This is a fried pastry covered in a sugar syrup that is typically served at New Year's celebrations. They are small, crunchy little snacks that Yangchen would love eating each year at the celebration.

Bulug

The best way I can describe this is that it's a Tibetan funnel cake. This is also served at New Year's celebrations. When Yangchen was younger, she and her sister Jetsun would always get one of these to split. It's a bittersweet memory now, but she still absolutely loves the food.

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And there we have it! A whole selection of foods I think Yangchen would enjoy. Feel free to use this in fics, art, headcanons, whatever, and your own as you see fit!

Due to all this research I've done, I also have lots of ideas for foods that could be added to the Air Nomad cuisine as a whole - who knows, maybe that will become a separate post of its own!

Pretty much all recipes came from Palden's Kitchen ; would absolutely recommend checking his channel out! His videos are very high quality and his voice is incredibly soothing, honestly I want this man as my grandfather now.

Finally, I also need to give a shoutout to @atlaculture for providing inspiration and resources for my Tibetan food deep dive!

[depravitycentral]

I've only watched the first season of jjk and frankly I despise Mahito, but god the yandere potential is just too damn good to ignore.

He's provocative, doing anything and everything he can to get a rise out of you.

Though honestly, creepy would be a more accurate description. Even for a curse, Mahito shows a remarkable disregard for the desires of others. He’s a selfish, morbid creature, and although there’s something dark, twisted, and sick blooming in his chest for you, this doesn’t change the core traits of his personality. It doesn’t change what he is, what he’s capable of, what he enjoys doing – and unfortunately for you, his infatuation with you means that every ounce of his time, attention, and curiosity is channeled directly at you.

And even from the beginnings of your unwilling ‘relationship’ with him, this will be uncomfortably obvious.

Catching his attention is a difficult, nebulous thing, but once you’ve managed to snag it, you’ll never shake it off. Very early on he’s attached to your hip, following you around and always, always blabbering on and on about this and that, asking you all sorts of questions that leave you simultaneously disgusted and exasperated.

(Questions like hey, if you had to eat another human, where would you start? Questions like when you menstruate, can you feel it coming out of you? Describe it to me – and show it to me too, okay? I can smell that you’re currently in that phase, what do you mean you won’t take your pants off right now? Why does it matter that we’re in a grocery store? Maybe they'd like to watch too.)

He’s irritating and strange, and you’ll know that there’s something seriously wrong with him without ever even needing to see him using his cursed energy.

And as he grows more attached and invests more time and curiosity in you, a rather disturbing situation begins unfolding – you absolutely did not invite Mahito to live with you, but he doesn’t seem to understand that you don’t want him in your apartment every moment of the day.

When you wake up in the mornings, he’s standing over your bed, face so close to yours that he can feel your breaths against his cold lips, his own stretching wider than humanly possible to morph into a grin that immediately has you awake and alert.

He’ll follow you around your modest apartment as you get ready for work, those mismatched eyes of his glued to your figure watching as you get dressed, your movements hurried and uncomfortable because why the fuck is he looking at you like that?

And he’s not quiet about it either – he’s commenting the whole time, talking about how he’s read that the discharge stains visible on your underwear are a sign that you have good vaginal health.

He’s telling you that you really should tighten up the straps on your bra – all the Playboy magazines and borderline pornos he’s seen in theaters always have the women wearing very perky bras, and shouldn’t you be insecure about that like most human women?

(He’s quick to point out that yours aren’t perky, but rather some other description, something much less flattering and much more damaging.)

He’ll watch as you brush your teeth, tilting his head like some sort of animal as those mismatched eyes take in your every movement, a smile slowly forming on his lips that makes something heavy and sick sit in the base of your stomach.

Immediately after you’re done, practically before you’ve finished spitting out the toothpaste, he’s immediately snatching the brush and settling it against his own tongue, twirling around the bristles against his teeth and tongue as he hums. He’s narrating the taste to you, telling you that it’s minty but also a bit sweet and earthy, his cheeks hollowing out as he sucks at the bristles and giggles. He’ll follow you around with that damn toothbrush in his mouth, staying glued to your heel like some oversized, murderous puppy.

He’s touching your breakfast as you cook it, a finger reaching in to burst the yolk of your fried egg, a thumb and pointer finger reaching into the toaster to squish and pinch at a section of your toast so that it’s cracked and crumbly and has the imprint of his fingerprints against it.

He’s slipping in through the bottom crack of the door as you use the toilet, peeking up at you and smiling too widely, asking you if it feels good when you urinate? I’ve heard that some women think it feels good to hold it in. Next time you have to go, get me first. I want to see how long you can hold it for.

And as time passes, it only becomes worse – he gets more invasive, more pushy, wanting to insert himself into every possible aspect of your life because you’re just so fascinating and the way you respond to him is just so delicious. He’s still forcing you to share intimate supplies like toothbrushes and underwear.

(Though he never returns the underwear clean after stealing them for a few days. There’s always a multitude of mysterious stains in colors you don’t understand – you can handle the very obvious cum stains, albeit begrudgingly and with bile rising up your throat, but what the hell had he been doing that resulted in bright orange stains?)

He’s still asking you all sorts of questions about extremely personal topics, blinking at you with all the innocent curiosity in the world, making you feel like the crazy one for being uncomfortable when asked how many fingers you’ve ever managed to stuff inside yourself and oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask – have you ever tried fisting? I bet I could put a finger inside you and then just expand it bigger and bigger until it’s the size of my fist or maybe even more. That sounds fun! Let’s do that. Right now.

He’ll be standing next to you as you brush your hair or brush over it, watching intently and prying the brush out of your hands, pulling at the caught strands and plopping them into his mouth, swishing the hairs around before audibly swallowing them, licking his lips and running off to the shower to find any stray hairs against the tiled walls.

(He won’t verbally explain this particular habit to you, but it stems from a strange, possessive desire to have a piece of you inside of him, the concept of having your DNA within his body making him strangely giddy. He refuses to touch or alter your soul simply because he doesn’t want to change anything about you, and this feels the closest he can get in place of it. The closest he can get to you.)

He’ll open up your makeup bag and drawer, digging with grubby fingers and opening each and every product, smearing a bit across his wrist and returning it back uncapped, occasionally grabbing sticks of lipstick and letting his tongue run across the pigmented product, teeth sinking down as he takes a bite, face twisting up a bit because yuck, it tastes like chemicals!

He’ll grab your makeup brushes and run them along the areas of his body that he’s read are the main production points of pheromones, some raunchy article he’d read claiming that women are highly affected by them and are subconsciously attracted to them.

(The brush gets rubbed across his underarms and navel, a few silver, curly hairs getting stuck in the brush bristles that he figures only imbues more of his natural scent into the tool.)

And Mahito isn’t at all shy about doing any of these things in front of you – in fact, he actively encourages you to look, telling you that it’s good to be honest with each other, that it’s sweet how interested you are in what he’s doing, even if that interest manifests as you angrily yelling at him and begging him to stop being such a freak.

Really, Mahito consciously learns about human societal standards and perceptions of privacy and actively breaks them when it comes to you. He likes to see how far he can push you, just how much you can take before you start crumbling.

He wants to understand what makes you tick, how you function, what your biggest fears are, the order you eat your food, the way you breath, how you sniffle and hiccup when you're crying.

He's a freak in every sense of the word, and once he's grown any sort of attachment to you, he's like a parasite that you just can't get rid of. He'll feed off of you, growing greedier and greedier, but still somehow managing to find some new way to humiliate you, some new way to get you angry enough to scream and lash out at him but terrified enough to stop yourself.

And oh, seeing that look on your face when you're angry enough you could cry makes him feel so, so very good, all the blood rushing south and making him tell you in that sing-songy, too-chipper voice of his to give me your panties you're wearing right now, but stay here. It's better when you watch.

He's the worst, in every sense of the word.