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ja3yun · 3 months

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Melting Point | P.SH | CH.1

brother's rival!sunghoon x fem!reader warnings: heavily suggestive, kissing, perv!hoon, mentions of self doubt and overthinking, yn's mum is an asshole, anything else lmk! ch.1 synopsis: when circumstances unexpectedly bring you and your brother's long-time ice skating rival, park sunghoon, together, you discover a surprising connection. However, your brother forbids any relationship between you. Will you heed his advice or follow your heart? wc: 14.3k masterlist | next a/n: hi! first chapter is finally here and i hope you all like it. each chapter will be released on friday and roughly between 10k - 16k (since people wanted longer chapters, however, i am open to any feedback regarding lengths). enjoy and please leave any comments/likes/reblogs if you wish !! also, peep the new header

‘We’re dancing, dancing, dancing in the moonlight.'

The blaring of your alarm pulls you from the cocoon of sleep, and you groan into your pillow. The idea of getting up before 6 am feels like a crime, yet here you are, abruptly awakened at 4:30 am by the dulcet tones of TO1.

With a begrudging sigh, you reach for your phone, dismissing the alarm, and then collapse back, staring at the ceiling. This routine has been a part of your life since childhood, and you'd think you'd be accustomed to it by now. However, no matter how early you sleep, removing yourself from the warmth of your bed remains a daily struggle.

You can hear your brother and mum scooting around downstairs, their usual ‘Do you have everything?’, ‘Where are the car keys?’, ‘Get your sister’ conversations louder than they need to be at this time in the day. The last one does mean you better get a move on and go downstairs.

While you put on your peach-flavoured chapstick, your brother bursts into your room, “Hurry up, Y/N.” His eyes roll and he slams the door shut as quickly as he opens it.

You have had the same routine since you were 6 years old. Same exchanges, same panic, same everything.

Minhee, your older brother, is the reason you have this same routine. When he was 6 years old, Mum took you and him ice skating for the first time and he was a natural. His feet took to the ice like fish to water, like chocolate to strawberries, like you to garlic bread. It was fated. By 7 years old he was already training and what was once a fun hobby turned into a gruelling regime of early rises and the need for a good winter jacket.

“2 minutes!” You shout down to them, one quick glance over in the mirror to make sure you look presentable.

Running down the stairs you’re greeted by your impatient mum tapping her foot, “Come on, Y/N we really can’t be late today. Coach Kim needs us there as soon as possible. Big announcement.” Her hands are flapping around animated as she speaks, “I think he’s finally going to let Minhee try that quadruple axel we’ve been begging him to let him do for Nationals!”

Your brother looks disinterested, “Mum, he’s already said it’s out of my depth.” His tone is bitter.

Minhee was amazing at ice skating, winning so many medals your mum had you move out of your double room to the box one so she could display them all. By 10 he was the youngest ever in your city to reach state championships and by 14 he was competing at the National level. It did make him the golden, silver, and bronze child in your family, but you didn’t mind all that much - not that you would tell her it did.

It’s not like you’re doing anything half as impressive as winning trophies, now that was what your mother truly found pride in. You could become a CEO or a lawyer but if you couldn’t hit a toe loop worthy of gold it wouldn’t impress her.

You did try skating when you were younger but it was like you turned into Bambi, never able to find your feet. Even when it snows in winter you can’t hold yourself up. Deep down your mum hoped you would be just like Minhee, creating an opportunity for you both to branch into pair figure skating like the Shib Sibs but no matter how many times Minhee tried to teach you or she got his coach to give you a few free pointers, you couldn’t do it. She’s disappointed and quite frankly you think she holds a grudge against you for not being anything like your amazing, spectacular, talented brother.

But you still loved to watch the sport, how efficiently and painlessly each skater would glide across the ice and do manoeuvres that defied gravity. It was a magical sport, so when your mum dragged you along to every practice because she couldn’t afford a babysitter, you didn’t mind all that much.

Tying up your final lace you stand up from the bottom step and Minhee passes you your black jacket with faux fur lining. You mutter a quick ‘thanks’ before grabbing your book bag and all three of you head to the car.

"What if it's the Olympics!" Squealing, your mother fastens her seatbelt. What if it was the Olympics? Despite consistently finishing in the top three, if not first, in most major competitions in his teenage years, his coach never selected him for the Youth Olympic Games. But now that he’s 20 years old, he could compete in the Olympics.

Your brother looks sideways at your mother and widens his eyes, "You think so?" It was his dream to make it to the Olympics, and even if he didn't win, he wanted to experience everything; the different country, being surrounded by the best of the best - he had been planning his routine for it forever.

There is a little envious man who climbs up on your shoulder from time to time when conversations like this happen. Of course, you would be so happy for Minhee, after all, he works harder than anyone you know but you wish it was you. Not necessarily the skating part, but to be so good at something you have a goal and dreams that take you to the top. Just something to make you feel alive.

You’re in your 2nd year of University studying Events and Marketing after your mum said it would be good for you to learn how to pitch reasons why Minhee would be a great brand ambassador. So you did it to please her. Honestly, you actually do enjoy it, you won’t lie about that, but the lack of appreciation for your efforts goes unnoticed 99% of the time. The 1% was when you got to shadow a boss at a Nike headquarters branch a few cities over.

“Get a good word in for Minhee while you’re there!”

She was proud of you that day.

As the car rolls up to the rink’s parking lot your mother turns serious, “If this is about choosing you for the Olympics, Min, you need to act excited and unexpectant, they may be filming a behind-the-scenes documentary on your journey to a gold medal.”

Image. Your mum was big on keeping Minhee’s reputation on brand. Right now his ‘brand’ is being humble and noble.

“Yes mum,” he salutes, “Smile and flutter.” Winking and smirking as he mocks his usual signature poses causes you to laugh but your mum finds nothing funny and her change in aura scares both of you out of the car.

_____

The usually quiet ice rink is filled with chatter and chaos, with over 20 people speaking over each other. Minhee looks down at you and you shrug. None of you had any clue what was going on but if your years of watching Detective Conan paid off you would say that whatever caused this commotion was the reason the coach asked Minhee to come in as quickly as possible.

Customarily, at this time in the morning, it’s Minhee’s solo practice hours to work on his routine for Nationals so this many people here is concerning.

“Listen!” Coach Kim’s voice bellowed around the arena putting the chattering to a halt, “I know this is untimely and inconvenient, trust me, it is for me too,” Your eyes follow his and see another coach standing about 2 meters from him, “But we need to make this work and to do that I need you to listen to me.”

As your family approaches the disarray, Coach Kim beckons you all forward. Minhee is the first to ask the all too important question, “What’s going on, Coach?” The people behind you scatter and begrudgingly tread out of the building, their faces glum and disgruntled.

“Minhee, Ms. Kang, Y/N,” Coach Kim greets you all, “Sorry about all that, although telling them was a lot less scary than you.”

“What? Is this place shutting down?” Minhee jokes but by the look on Coach Kim’s face he isn’t far off.

“Not exactly.” Scratching his neck, Coach Kim looks everywhere but Minhee’s eyes, “You know the Albion Centre? The rink on the other side of town?” All three of you nod despite that he’s only talking to your brother, “Well the council had a little meeting last week and they’re turning it fully into a Hockey training centre.”

The words sit in the air as he hopes Minhee will come to the conclusion himself, “So what? Just means more time for skating here right? If all the Hockey team are going over there?”

Sighing, the coach nods, “For sure, but it also means every skater from there will be, well, here.” He gestures around and then points half-heartedly at the other Coach who is stepping forward.

“Kang Minhee, it’s great to meet you properly, I’ve heard nothing but great things,” he extends his hand which your brother accepts, still dazed from the information, “I’m Coach Lee.”

“Wait so, EVERY skater in the town will be here? in Belmore? Coach Kim, that's not possible, my training time will be cut!” Minhee is sulking but you don’t blame him. This is a fucked up situation.

Coach Lee answers, “Not true, Minhee, with the Hockey team over at Albion it frees up some ice time, you’ll get to train more if you want to.”

“And! No more shield guards around the rink, you always hated those!” Coach Kim smiles and playfully punches his chest.

There is something the Coaches aren’t telling him. Like they’re presenting him with all the benefits before hitting him with a bombshell. You know it and for sure your mother knows it. She has been eerily quiet throughout the whole exchange, if there is one thing more unsettling than her shouting, it’s her silence.

“Albion, huh?” She steps forward and tapers her eyes, “Isn’t that the rink where the Parks are located? And aren’t you Lee Jaeho? The coach of that snake ‘Ice Prince’?”

Tension spreads around everyone’s shoulders, the Coaches can’t look at her, and none of you move.

A loud click echoes throughout the rink as someone walks through the door.

“Coach what the fuck?” The voice booms behind you, “Why did I have to drive almost an hour to come here, why couldn’t we just meet at Albi?”

Park Sunghoon.

What’s that saying? Speak of the devil and he shall appear? His mother shuffles in behind him, vocalising her own distaste for being here as if it were the most inconvenient thing in the world. Little do they know…

It’s like the world stops when Sunghoon and Minhee see each other and not in a rom-com way, “What the fuck is HE doing here?” Sunghoon points to Minhee, not taking his eyes off him.

“This is MY rink, Park.”

Sunghoon and Minhee have been competitors since they were 9 years old. Each of them competes against one another in every competition, always striving for first place. It began as healthy competition, and they were even friends at one point, but as they grew older and each mother became increasingly determined to claim their kid was superior to the others, a rivalry developed. If one of them did something, the other had to outdo it tenfold.

When Minhee learned how to do a double axel, Sunghoon learned a triple. When Sunghoon landed his Euler jumps, Minhee was landing an Euler but following it up with a Salchow. When Minhee won the Junior Silver Medal in 2015, Sunghoon won the Junior Gold Medal in 2016.

It was always like this.

Their similarities didn’t help either, both 20, towering at 6”0, and blessed with faces that effortlessly drew admiring glances from girls. Objectively, you’ve only really seen the attraction to Sunghoon given that Minhee is your brother, however, you're not blind to the bevvy of girls who gravitate towards him either. This is precisely why your mother insisted on Minhee maintaining his brand, which stood in stark contrast to Sunghoon's.

He wasn’t rude or stuck up, actually from what you’ve perceived from afar, he is kind and gentle. But unlike your brother's ‘humble’ persona, Sunghoon knows he’s good and will tell anyone about it. Sunghoon’s confidence is easily mistaken for haughtiness. He can come across as arrogant and cocky, just like those sports journalists have been branding him for years like he thinks he’s better than anyone else past and present.

Having been to every competition Minhee has skated in has led you to know a few things about Park Sunghoon. He was arguably the best skater in the division, even over Minhee, he was determined, hard-working, resilient, and fit as fuck.

To say you used to have a crush on him would be the understatement of the century, matter of fact it was so obvious back then that your mum would often reprimand you for staring at him too long. He was your first crush, you were 8 and he was 9, and like some girls that age you planned out a wedding, a future of 2 dogs and you’d both live in a pink palace. At first, it was his looks, no one in your primary school looked that pretty or even shone a torch compared to him. It was like seeing an angel for the first time. But then you started to grow up, and while still appreciating his face, you focused on how beautifully he skated and how majestic he moved. He was so passionate about the sport it made you feel butterflies, you hadn’t seen love like that before. Sunghoon and the rink were fated to be together.

“Sunghoon, calm down.” His coach whispered, “We need to tell you something-”

“I am NOT sharing my rink with that fucking z-list prick, alright?” Minhee didn’t hold back, he got that anger from your mother.

Turning to his coach, Sunghoon raised his eyebrows, “What does he mean sharing?”

Both Coaches exhaled. You can’t imagine how many times they have had to explain this situation, they probably should have just sent out an email. So as Coach Lee takes Sunghoon and his mum to the side, Coach Kim is looking at Minhee apologetically, “I’m sorry, Minhee. I know he’s your biggest competition, and trust me, I don’t exactly love this outcome either,” rubbing a hand down his exhausted face he whispers, “but work with me here. I’ve scheduled you guys at different times, you won’t even need to see him.”

“That’s not the point, Coach, you know how I feel about him.”

If it wasn’t for your mum you seriously ponder whether Minhee would have such a strong hatred for the fellow ice skater, and as you look at Sunghoon you wonder the same thing.

“I know trust me, you and your mother make that perfectly clear every time we cross them at comps, but you just gotta live with it, son.”

The coaches come back together and look at both of their young prodigies, “Minhee you’ll train morning, and Sunghoon you’ll train nights. Because of the merger of rinks, we have an excessive number of skaters, so we are making it a 24-hour arena but ONLY for you two and Wonyoung since Nationals are coming up.” Both coaches nodded their heads as if agreeing with themselves that this was a good choice, “So if you happen to turn up at the same time, you respect each others’ space and behave like grown men. Got it?”

Grumbling, your brother rolls his eyes, and Sunghoon nods. This is going to be a disaster.

Just as you think all bickering would be over, the mothers start chasing after the coaches as they head into the office. You felt bad for the trainers having to deal with this and getting blamed for it all, but most importantly, you feel sorry for them because they have to listen to both your mum and Mrs. Park for at least an hour.

Once the door to their office shut, it was silent, the only noise coming from the large ACs.

Scared to look any of them in the eye you place a hand on Minhee’s arm, “Come on, you need to practice.”

“Emphasis on the ‘need’.” Sunghoon pipes up and you wish he hadn’t. You were a fool to think this parting would be civil.

Minhee pokes his tongue in his cheek and looks at his rival, “You got something to say?” He’s challenging Sunghoon, baiting him to start something, but Sunghoon doesn’t budge, “Better watch my skate doesn’t somehow come flying off and slit you open.” Minhee was all bark and no bite, you knew this, but he seems deadly serious right now.

“Is that a threat?” Sunghoon stands tall against Minhee.

“It’s a fucking promise, Park.”

No one says anything else, they don’t have to, the look in their eyes is scary as they stand toe to toe with one another. “Let’s go, Mini.” You squeak out his nickname. By no means are you a timid person but you don’t want to interject and suddenly find yourself in the firing line.

With a grunt, your brother obeys and storms out and into the changing rooms, leaving you and Sunghoon alone.

His stern eyes flicker to your soft ones, it’s been a while since you’ve been this close to him, close enough to admire him. His black hair is fluffy and unstyled unlike how it is usually when you see him at competitions, the bags under his eyes prove how hard he’s working whether at skating or general life and the freckles that are perfectly placed on his face suddenly look more ethereal than before. Sunghoon is the epitome of beauty.

While you’re staring you fail to notice how he is staring right back at you, taking in all your features like he’s trying to commit them to memory. He hasn’t seen you since Sectionals which didn’t seem like that long ago but to him, it feels like a lifetime. You’ve cut your hair since then and Sunghoon noticed.

Meeting his eyes once again you see how they sparkle, just like they do when he’s on the ice.

“Sorry for my brother, he can be-”

“A dick?”

“A lot,” Your tone is filled with warning. Sunghoon might have been right but that’s still your brother, “He can be a lot but you already know that.”

Walking up to you, he tilts his head and smiles softly, “Don’t start apologising for him now, Sweets.” He leans so his face meets yours, “Or else you’ll be apologising your whole life.”

Sunghoon pats your head and makes his way to the coach's office, leaving you mesmerised.

______

Minhee and Sunghoon have successfully kept their distance from each other for the past two weeks, which has been a relief to everyone. If this pattern continues, there is hope that everything will just be a harmonious as before the merge.

Although the rink was now open for their disposal, you were never more grateful. No, it wasn’t for you, the coaches explicitly said it was for the future medalists, but you knew the receptionist for the building and she would let you away with anything if you batted your lashes and gave her a box of Toffees.

Growing up at the rink meant you found solace in the atmosphere and surroundings, so much so that you went there to simply study, the arena oddly hugging you in comfort while you tore the hair from your head. Skaters and staff became your friends with how much time you’ve spent in the bleachers. Typically, it would be during the day with what little spare time you had, but with the building being open around the clock it means you can inhabit the premises in the middle of the night, the perfect time to get your head down and work.

That is where you are headed right now just after your shift at the supermarket. It was as painful as ever with customers not understanding that you don’t make the prices, or that no you cannot watch their baby while they run for a jug of milk. It’s baffling how dense some people can be.

The rink is a nice place to relax and get away from it all.

Pushing open the door you see the receptionist, Miss Barbara, filing her nails. She was a friendly woman, the kind type, but when Coach Kim told her she would have to work some nights she wasn’t so sweet and caring, not to him anyway.

Her real name is just Barbara but as the years went on, she adopted this regal persona and insisted everyone call her Miss or Ma’am. Only you and Minhee gave in to her request though.

“Hi, Miss Barbara,” You wave. Reaching into your white tote bag you retrieve her bribes, eh, goodies, and pass them to her.

With much delight, she wiggles her fingers and slips them from the desk into her lap, “Y/N you are my favourite person that walks through those doors!” Her eyes are trained on the sweets rather than you when she speaks which makes you chuckle.

“Glad I can be held in such high regard, Miss Barbara,” You change your accent to a posh one and wave like a Queen in her tiny town car. Lifting her head, Miss Barbara sees your roleplay and laughs, dismissing you into the rink.

As you step into the arena, the chill of the air greets you, accompanied by the soothing sound of skates slicing through the ice. Finding your way to the centre of the second row of bleachers, you settle in, unpacking your bag and gracefully arranging your belongings. Crossing your legs to create space for your laptop and paper, you deftly balance everything, a skill you've honed to perfection.

Typing in your password you hear the skates coming towards you and scraping to a halt but you don’t look up.

“If you’ve come to spy on my routine you aren’t doing a very good job at hiding.” Sunghoon playfully remarks. You hadn’t even noticed it was him who was skating, since it was usually Wonyoung gracing the ice you just expected it to be her. He looks at your mess of a lap and scrunches his full eyebrows, “Like you’re really not making it discrete.”

You look up and see him pointing to your laptop, “Oh, no I’m just studying.” Returning to typing you hear him scoff, making you look at him again.

“You expect me to believe that?” The look on his face is incredulous when you don’t budge, “What? Don’t they have libraries at your Uni?”

Sunghoon’s tone is accusatory and you don’t like it. “Look, I don’t have beef with you okay? That’s the wrong Kang sibling.” There is no reason for him to be giving you attitude right now, you hadn’t done anything wrong, an innocent bystander in all this.

Deep down he knew that too, but he couldn’t be too careful.

Crossing his arms, he leans on top of the barrier and rests his chin, examining you and how much you’re telling the truth, “So, what? You genuinely just sit here and study? Does the cold stimulate your brain or something?”

“No, it’s like white noise at this point, comforting.” Glancing up you see his still dubious expression, “Ugh, look I come here all the time, ask anyone!” Your arms gesturing to the empty rink is not really helping your case.

Having had enough you slam the laptop shut and stand up, “Whatever, I’ll just go somewhere else.”

Sunghoon shoots his arms up to mock surrender, “Woah, Sweets, calm down, I was just making sure. Need to air on the side of caution, yeah?” His voice softens.

Making you uncomfortable wasn’t on his list of things to do, but his mum made it very clear your whole family wasn’t to be trusted, and he always heeded his mother's warnings even if he thought she was being overdramatic. “Listen, stay here as long as you want but if I see your brother doing a double toe loop into a triple axel I know who to blame.”

With a smirk, you sit back down, “See now you’ve just told me your big secret,” a laugh leaves your lips, “Changed your mind on trusting a Kang so soon huh?”

He’s flabbergasted.

Did he really just tell you part of his routine like it was nothing, in an instant after he just told himself not to be so trusting of you? You’re more dangerous than he first thought, and you aren’t even trying.

After seeing the realisation come over his face you laugh loudly, “Sunghoon, don’t worry. My brother can handle you on his own, he doesn’t need to cheat to beat you.”

“Say that to my 8 first places over him.” It goes silent. It’s not like you could argue with him, Sunghoon did beat Minhee in a lot of skates.

Trying to lighten the mood he points to you, “No pictures.” He jokes and skates away adroitly.

You don’t see the smile creeping onto his face, or the way tries to shake you out of his head. That conversation between you made him want it to be the start of many more, much more.

________

Emerging from your room, you're taken aback to find your mom standing right at your door, narrowly avoiding a collision. Both of you gasp and instinctively clutch your chests. "Jesus, Y/N, you scared me," she exclaims. Ignoring the fact that she's lingering around your room, you offer an apology, which she quickly dismisses. "A letter came for you," she informs you, handing over the manila envelope before walking away. At least she isn't one of those moms who loiter and wait for you to open it; she doesn't fuss over things like that. Or perhaps, she doesn't fuss over you.

Abandoning your plan to head to the kitchen for a cup of tea, you return to your bed and sprawl across it, letting your legs dangle off the edge. With a swift motion, you tear open the envelope and unfold the letter, eagerly scanning its contents.

Dear Y/N Kang,

At Yonsei University, our students consistently impress us with their dedication and commitment to excellence. Each year, we have the privilege of acknowledging one outstanding student whose remarkable progress merits special recognition. This year, we are delighted to announce that you have been selected as the top student of Yonsei University.

In light of your exceptional achievements, we would be honoured to celebrate your success by presenting you with an award. A special ceremony, bringing together top students from across the city, will be held on the 23rd of September at 7 pm in the historic Cathedral adjacent to our university campus. You are welcome to bring a plus one to share in this momentous occasion.

Congratulations once again on this well-deserved honour.

You skim-read the rest, and a triumphant smile creeps onto your face. There's no conceivable way you're at the top of the University this year - perhaps the top of your year, but the entire university? It feels like a surreal, sick joke. Investigating the envelope, you spot the official stamp of Yonsei. It's real.

Bounding down the stairs, you find your mum and brother already seated at the dining table, ready for dinner, "Mum, Mini, look!" You flap the paper in their faces, excitement bubbling within you. Your mum tuts and carefully opens the letter, reading it with precision. You're searching for any sign of a reaction, but nothing surfaces. She simply places it down and checks her phone.

You sit down gingerly, awaiting her acknowledgement, hoping for some form of appreciation, "Hmm, thought so." Clicking the lock on her phone, she sets it aside, "Sorry, Y/N, Minhee has a schedule that day."

"But aren't you happy for me?" You ask, your excitement dampening. It's not just about the ceremony; it's about the achievement itself. She should be proud of you, "I'm at the top of my university."

"Yes, you are, darling," your mum responds, her tone lacking enthusiasm. Normally, it wouldn't bother you, but this is a big deal, huge even, and she couldn't spare you the time of day to at least pretend to be happy for you.

Your heart sinks, and the elation you felt a moment ago dissipates. She really did not care, and the void of her indifference casts a shadow over your significant accomplishment.

Minhee places a comforting hand on your shoulder, sensing your disappointment. "Top of the class, huh? Finally, you get one of your awards in my trophy room." His attempt at humour falls flat in the weight of the moment. Minhee notices your lack of response, withdrawing his hand and sinking into silence, his gaze fixed downward.

“We just can’t go, your brother has an advertisement to film that day, we’ve been planning it for months. You understand.”

You had no choice but to understand.

“Yes, Mum.” The acceptance cuts deep. You've never blamed Minhee for the uneven distribution of favouritism; it wasn't his fault, yet, the sting of yearning for a moment in the spotlight, just once, remains. The chair you rise from screeches against the floor. "I need to go tell my friends about it."

There isn’t a protest from her, so you slip out quietly. Minhee extends a hand toward you, a silent gesture of support, but you don’t bother acknowledging it. The door closes behind you, leaving a trail of unresolved emotions lingering in the air.

In truth, you didn’t want to tell your friends right now, when you tell them you want it to be a happy occasion, not tarnished by your mum's attitude.

How could she be so nonchalant about the fact that you achieved such an award? You weren’t looking for bells and whistles but a simple ‘Well done, Y/N.’ would have sufficed. Was it too much to ask for? You did all this for her, after all.

A deja vu of last week, you push the heavy doors to the Belmore Centre, greeting Miss Barbara before heading to the rink.

The familiar scent of ice and warm rubber infiltrates your nose, offering solace and temporarily numbing the thoughts swirling in your mind. The rink, with its unique aura, never fails to bring you a sense of contentment.

As you take your usual seat, you can't help but notice an unusual absence of the rhythmic sound of skates cutting through the ice. It's just past 8 pm, yet the rink is eerily silent. For a change, it's pure bliss, the absence of the usual hustle and bustle providing an unexpected sanctuary.

Sitting with your head in your hands, you succumb to overthinking. If only you could have skated and achieved something that your mum could be proud of. What would it take?

A tear slips down your cheek, and you're oblivious to the approaching presence.

Sunghoon’s smile is subtle as he takes in your dishevelled appearance. You’re not in your usual jacket, in fact, you look like you've hastily run out of the house as if you were just popping into the shop for milk.

With your hands buried in your head, he hears a sniffle, realizing that you're crying, “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Sunghoon drops his bag and skates as he rushes over to you, concern all over his face.

Shaking your head you just cry harder as your brain screams at you. It is so loud you can’t hear anything else, certainly not the boy sitting next to you.

He rubs your back to calm you down but to no avail. Instead, you cry harder and he doesn’t know what to do. Sunghoon isn’t exactly an expert when it comes to crying girls, “Sweets, stop crying.” Great, Sunghoon, just great, he curses himself, “Umm, no wait, shit, breathe! I’ve heard that works before.” He quickly made the realisation he would never make it as a therapist.

Sunghoon is always so confident and self-assured but right now with you he has no idea how to act.

What he doesn’t realize is that his awkward attempt to console you has genuinely worked. Sunghoon fumbling over his words gives you something to focus on, and hearing him mutter to himself about how awful he is at this makes you laugh. It’s a small laugh but one that breaks through the heaviness of the moment.

Hearing your laughter, Sunghoon whips his head to face you, his hand continuing to rub soothing circles on your back. “What happened, Y/N?” His voice carries a gentle concern, inviting you to share, but you just shake your head, not ready to delve into the details. “Nah, come on. Whatever it is has really upset you. It’s better to talk about it.”

His voice resonates with a soothing calmness, making you feel like you could confide in him about anything.

“I just feel like I'm not good enough and that anything I do will never meet her standards,” you shrug, expressing the weight of self-doubt that has been dragging you down.

“Ah, it’s your mum, right?” His lips purse as he gazes ahead to the rink. The elude to ‘her’ being his only anchor of reasoning.

Your silence serves as confirmation. Sunghoon, all too familiar with the feeling of not being enough, understands your pain. But in this moment, it's not about him. He can only offer superficial advice, “If you live your life based on other's expectations, you’ll never be truly happy.”

“Says the competitive figure skater,” you lightly laugh, a hint of sadness slowly dissipating from your face.

Sunghoon pauses the reassuring circles between your shoulders and sighs, “You got me there.” You were right; who was he to tell you to stop living for other people when that’s all he has ever done since he was 6?

Seeing how his shoulders slump, you worry you might have hit a nerve. “Hey, I didn’t me—”

“Do you want to do something reckless?” The sudden switch from sadness to confidence confuses you, and you gaze at him as if he has two heads. It's remarkable how quickly he pulled himself out of his own thoughts, and you can't help but feel a twinge of envy.

When you don’t respond, he pushes the idea further, “Come on, Sweets. Didn’t have you as the type to say no to a little fun.”

“There's a big difference between reckless and fun, so which is it?” you ask.

“Come and find out.” He smirks, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Suddenly, Sunghoon springs to his feet and yanks you out of your seat, propelling you into whatever scheme he has up his sleeve. As his hand interlocks with yours, a peculiar flutter dances in your stomach.

“Where are we going?” You glance around as he drags you past the rink and into the back rooms. "What’s so fun about plain grey walls and 'Employee of the Month' posters?”

Sunghoon simply rolls his eyes in response to your question.

The next thing you know, you're in a warehouse-like room, surrounded by old skating equipment, acrylite shields you've seen hockey players collide with, and an army of mannequins.

What somehow escapes your notice is the giant red Zamboni that Sunghoon is confidently strolling towards.

Seeing you mesmerized by the mannequins, Sunghoon waits for you to turn around, but you're too engrossed in the plastic figures to notice him. “Looking for your next boyfriend in there?” he teases, his voice slicing through the silence of the room.

Jumping at the unexpected remark, you hastily remove your hand from one of the figures' chests and whip around. Sunghoon leans against the Zamboni, a tilted smirk gracing his face, hands tucked casually in his trouser pockets. Embarrassed, you mumble a quick 'shut up' and shuffle over to him. To be honest, those dummies probably would have offered a more exciting conversation than most men.

Your eyes finally land on the Zamboni. It gleams, proudly bearing the bold inscription 'Zamboni Campbell' on the side. A few years ago, Coach Kim, in a moment of whimsy, had asked people to name the ‘new love in his life’ through a Facebook post. Some 7-year-old had chosen 'Zamboni Campbell.' It might not have been the most clever name, but considering his age, you let it slide.

“Please stop leaning on Zamboni Campbell; she’s a national treasure,” you interject, half-joking. If anything were to happen to her, you imagine Coach Kim might have an aneurysm.

The figure skater scoffs and pushes himself off the machine, “She’s no Zamby Malik.” He jokes, “My baby boy is probably being abused right now.” The comment raises an eyebrow; what is it with some people and their weird fascination for anything with a motor? Your expression remains neutral as Sunghoon looks at you. “Zamby Malik? Albion’s Zamboni? Named after Zayn Malik?” he questions.

“Yeah, got that reference, thanks.” Stepping forward, your eyes meet his. “I have been a Niall worshipper for many, many years,” you say proudly. You’ve been a dedicated fan of Niall and all the One Direction boys forever.

“Eh, more of a Louis girl myself,” Sunghoon shrugs and turns to face the ice resurfacer. “So, how badly have you ever wanted to ride her?” His hands rub together in a way that eerily resembles a villain plotting an evil scheme.

Nope. Absolutely not. You're not getting on that thing. For one, Coach Kim would undoubtedly kill you both if he found out. He loves the Zamboni more than his own children. And two, you have no idea how to operate it. Disaster is inevitable. “I am not getting on that thing!”

Sunghoon gives you a look that says ‘Of course, you are getting on that thing.’ but he can give you all the looks he wants, you are not doing it.

“Sweets, you need to have a go. It’ll help whatever is going on in that pretty little head of yours.” Sunghoon's hand playfully ruffles your hair before he strides towards the steps of the Zamboni.

Fixing your hair consciously, you find yourself following him. “How will it help exactly? When I die from crashing it or at the hands of Coach Kim, at least I'll be free of my thoughts?”

Sunghoon spins around, and you walk right into his chest. “I was thinking more along the lines of a clear rink, clear mind, but your reasoning works too, I suppose.” His hands grip your shoulders and push you at arm's length. “So?”

As you weigh up your options, for him, there's only one option – getting you behind the wheel of Zamboni Campbell.

“I don’t know how to drive it though, Sunghoon.” That would surely deter him from this ridiculous idea. But it doesn't.

“Duh,” His eyes rolled once again, “I’ll teach you obviously.”

It’s at that moment you understand that regardless of how long you’ve known him, you don’t actually know him. In fact, you haven’t even had a conversation this long before.

“Since when did you know how to ride a Zamboni?” You inquire and Sunghoon removes his hands from your shoulders, running his fingers through his hair. God, he is so handsome.

“You learn a thing or two being on the ice so long.”

The truth is, he was constantly pestering the maintenance guy at Albion to clean the ice before his practice. He got so fed up hearing Sunghoon complain he told him to do it himself. So he learned, and ever since, he’s been whizzing on a Zamboni.

You are running out of excuses, and part of you is agreeing with him that this will be good for you. “Fine.”

“That’s a girl!” Sunghoon huffs, and you move to walk up the steps, but he stops you, holding up two fingers. “Two things first.”

Removing his long liquorice-colored coat, he gently places it on your shoulders. The warmth lingering from his body heat in the linings of the jacket makes you realize how cold you were. “It gets cold up there,” he says, straightening out the collar.

You push your arms through the holes and wrap yourself up in it. Sunghoon has broad shoulders, so the jacket makes you look ten times smaller than you are, creating a cosy cocoon.

If he knew it was okay to say, he'd probably tell you how cute you look. For now, he keeps that thought to himself.

Murmuring a polite ‘thank you,’ you're grateful he doesn’t ask why you don't have your jacket. Sunghoon hasn’t pushed you to talk about it at all, and that's something you appreciate.

Sunghoon climbs up and gets situated behind the wheel.

“Wait, you said there were two things?” The jacket is one, and what else?

“Ah, there’s only one seat up here so,” he pats his lap, “You’re going to have to sit on my knee.”

He has to be joking, yet his face looks serious, a tinge of red sneaking onto his neck and ears. He’s blushing. The playful challenge in his eyes mixes with genuine warmth. It's clear he wants to make you smile.

Cute.

“I can’t teach you from down there, now come on up.” He continues.

He won’t give up, apparently, so with a huff, you start scaling the steps, standing at the top and realise how high this thing is. Sunghoon puts his hand out for you to take as he guides you to sit down. “This is super high,” you state patently.

Sunghoon laughs and shakes his head, “You’re just small, Sweets.” His hands go to your waist to stabilise you while you hike one leg over him. “That’s it, not so scary, huh?”

Slowly, you sit down on his lap, getting yourself comfortable. You feel his thighs tense under you. “Oh, am I too heavy?”

Quickly, he shakes his head, “No, not at all, I’ve got legs of steel.” He slaps the side of his thigh and relaxes them a little. Sunghoon won’t say it, but the way you wriggled to get comfy was putting pressure straight on his cock, making him tense up. It would be rude to pop a boner right now no matter how good you feel, given the circumstances.

“So what do I do?”

“Hmm?” He was too busy lost in his thoughts he forgot what he was doing. “Oh, right,” he turns on the machine and guides you through the steps. “So there are six levers, each does their own thing—conditioner, elevation, brush, tyre wash, wash water,” he continues going through the controls.

While he’s explaining, you observe how fast his lips are moving. Is he always this talkative, or is it just with you? A part of you hopes for the latter. “And we are good to go.” He finishes and smiles. You probably should have paid attention because now he’s looking at you expectantly. “You didn’t listen to a word I just said, did you?”

“Something about water being washed?” you bring your shoulders up sheepishly and smile, showing all your teeth.

The look on his face feigns annoyance, “How about I drive and you sit there and look pretty, yeah?”

Pretty. That’s the second time he's inadvertently called you pretty.

Sunghoon reaches his arm around you, starting the machine up and driving it onto the rink, his other hand is holding you securely in his lap. The ice resurfacer is in full swing as it sweeps the edges of the rink. You haven’t seen the rink from this angle before and it brings forth a new appreciation.

“Gonna need you to pump for me.”

It takes you a minute to process his words before craning your neck around to look at him, “Excuse me?” You have no idea in what context that sentence couldn’t be laced with innuendo.

He seems unphased, or maybe just unaware of his words double entendre, and points to the right of the machine, “This Zam has a manual wash water lever, you need to pump it for me, Sweets, I can’t reach it with you on my lap.”

Can he please stop saying pump for all that is holy?

You screw your head back on and see the black lever he is talking about, “This one?”

His one hand on your hip squeezes slightly when you reach over, “Yeah just lift it up and down, it might be heavy for you so be careful.”

Sunghoon watches you pump the water washer a few times, you use both hands to grasp the lever so he tightens his hold on your waist to ensure your safety. After he has focused on the task at hand he notices the way your hands are gripped around the lever, your fingers barely able to wrap around it. He can’t stop the next thoughts that come into his head. What he wouldn’t give to have you stroking his cock with those pretty hands.

The next thing he notices is how you’re softly grunting as you put the work in and your arms losing pace due to repetition and tiredness. The scene in front of him isn’t calming his thoughts down any because now he’s thinking if these noises are similar to ones you would make while bouncing on his dick. He feels like a pervert because here you are upset and he’s got crude thoughts of you infiltrating his mind.

“That’s enough for now, Sweets.” His voice is strained, he could have watched you do that for hours but for the sake of the ice and his dignity, he needs you to stop.

Pulling away and shuffling back to comfort on his lap you smile, “That was weirdly fun. It got some frustration out of me.”

It’s ironic because frustration has seeped into Sunghoon, horny frustration, and you are so blissfully unaware.

“Wow, look how sparkly it is!” You exclaim as your eyes are glued to the ice behind you. Maybe only once have you seen the rink so clean, but even then it wasn’t like this, it’s practically glistening. Zamboni Campbell needs to pat herself on the back.

The boy steering her also needs to praise himself not just for the excellent resurfacing job, but also for helping you. It’s not until now you see that his plan worked, he got you out of your head and stopped the crippling thoughts that were bound to consume you if you didn’t have this distraction.

Both of you lap the rink 4 times before Sunghoon looks at his handy work and smiles, “She drives like a dream.” He steers back into the warehouse, trying to park the Zamboni close enough to where they found it.

“Better than Zamby Malik?” You tease.

“Never, but she’s not far off.” Sunghoon doesn’t let go of the hold he has on your waist despite the ice resurfacer being stagnant. Instead, he’s slightly massaging your sides, an action you can barely feel because of his coat engulfing your body, but you feel it enough.

Turning around so your legs are draped fully over his thighs, you're about to get off him, but you don't. You should stand up, climb down the steps, and leave it as a nice memory, but this future memory feels too short like there should be something more to it.

Sunghoon feels it too, that’s why he’s staring at you so intensely. The once shallow smile he had on his face now dropped off; his eyes are looking deep into yours, and his hands move up your waist slightly, yet he doesn’t make a move.

This has to be your decision. Something you want.

If there was ever an inappropriate time to think about your brother, it’s when you’re two seconds away from kissing a guy. Minhee’s face flashes in your mind, and you realize what you’re about to do - you’re about to kiss Minhee’s biggest rival, his arch-nemesis, how could you even face your brother if you gave in to this?

Sunghoon watches you while your brain flips out; you don’t look like you’re 100% certain of the idea of his lips on yours. “Sweets?” he squeezes your waist and sighs, “We should get going.”

Oh.

All you’re thinking about is why he didn’t kiss you, and why it hurt a little that he didn’t. It looked like he wanted to; maybe you took too long, or he stared long enough to realize you weren’t actually pretty. You guys don't even know each other well, but you feel yourself being pulled towards him. Wasn’t it the same for him? Your brain went from overthinking one thing to another.

Nodding your head, you stand up carefully and make your way down. You can’t even look at him out of shame and guilt for even entertaining the idea of kissing him. Your mum would be so disappointed if she knew.

Sunghoon follows you down but unlike you he is keeping his eyes fixed on your face, focusing on every change in your manner both positive and negative. He wanted to kiss you but you looked like you were about to pass out from the thought of it. Sunghoon wanted you to be certain, “I’ll drive you home.”

“No, no it’s fine, I’m not that far from here.” Being in a car with him after this wouldn’t be the best outcome, your mind is still on his lips.

“Please, Y/N, it’s late. I just want to make sure you’re safe. Anything could happen.” Sunghoon doesn’t want you to walk home, yes because of safety concerns, but also because he wants to spend even a fraction of a minute more time with you. You seem to be one of the few people in this world he can relax around.

He should have just kissed you.

The look on his face is serious but his eyes are soft, not asking but begging you to just say yes.

“Sure.” The atmosphere is heavy, filled with longing and tension. You’re both thinking different things.

You’re analysing every specific detail from tonight to see if you have done something wrong, anything that would have stopped him from kissing you.

And Sunghoon’s brain is filled with various thoughts of you from tonight. The lever, the way you felt so right sitting in his lap, and more importantly how amazing it felt to be the one that made you smile. The way you smiled and giggled on the Zamboni is something he is going to commit to memory.

As of today, he will start keeping part of his brain solely for you to occupy.

The walk to Sunghoon's car is silent, free of the laughter and conversation that previously filled your space. Both of you appear to be over-analysing each other's previous acts, which makes the situation more awkward than it needs to be.

Sunghoon's car is impressive: a sleek monochrome Peugeot New 2008 with a black interior. The scent of his fresh cologne combines with the ocean-scented tree-shaped air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.

“This is a nice car.” You note, buckling up your seatbelt.

“She’s a beaut, isn’t she? Got her as part of a brand deal with Peugeot Sport.” His hands caress the smooth wheel and his lips upturn into a proud smile. Brand deals and advertisements are not what you want to hear about right now, especially when it’s the one thing your mum cared about instead of your award. Your sour mood doesn’t go unnoticed, “Let’s get you home, yeah?”

That was the one place you didn’t really want to be right now but you nod, shoulders slumped a little at the thought of facing your mum again.

“Or,” Sunghoon starts, “We could get some food? The University Cafe is always open late.”

It was like he could read your mind, “Yeah, I could eat.”

With that, Sunghoon starts the car and drives to the cafe. The way your face turned a little paler when he said he would take you home alarmed him. He doesn’t think you’re in danger there, Minhee might be a dick but he was protective over you, he wouldn’t let anything happen, and Sunghoon knew that. Whatever it is, you didn’t want to go home, and Sunghoon is more than willing to keep you to himself for a couple more hours.

The journey to the cafe, situated more on his side of town, unfolds in silence, only disrupted by the gentle strains of Hozier's "Like Real People Do" emanating from the radio. A wry smile tugs at Sunghoon's lips, finding the song's relevance a touch on the nose for the current situation.

Upon arriving at the cafe, you're taken aback by its shabby appearance - chipped walls, adjacent graffiti, not to mention it’s deserted. Sunghoon, attuned to your hesitance, reassures you, “It’s a lot nicer than it looks, promise. I’ve been coming here forever.” Stepping out of the car, he leaves you with the choice of venturing into the weathered establishment or remaining in the safety of the car. Despite your reservations, a rumble from your stomach nudges you to join him inside.

The interior mirrors the exterior's wear and tear, yet a certain comfort envelops the air as Sunghoon guides you with a reassuring hand on the small of your back. “Sit anywhere you like, Sweets.”

Opting for a seat by the back window, you settle into the firm, brown booth without ridding yourself of Sunghoon's coat, a silent acknowledgement that your stay may be short-lived. You aren’t a snob but you have a cafe like this in your side of town and it isn’t somewhere you choose to occupy.

Noticing your scrutiny of the surroundings, Sunghoon, with a laugh, takes a seat across from you, studying your expression, "You don’t like it, huh?"

Huffing, you cast a critical eye around the place, "Not really, no."

You were brutally honest, he’ll give you that, “Wait until you try their food and then judge okay?” He chuckles and hands you the menu on the table.

A waitress waltzes over with a pen and paper. She’s too beautiful for a place like this, her rosy cheeks and long flowing brown hair make you jealous, “Sunghoon! My favourite ice slasher, how is it going?”

While they engage in small talk you look at the menu looking for something safe to eat. Maybe you should just wait for Sunghoon to order and get the same thing.

“Y/N, you know what you want?” He turns to you.

“Oh, so you’re the Y/N?” the waitress grins.

What does that mean? How does she know your name? When you glance at Sunghoon, you notice his intense stare fixed on the girl. This is strange. The waitress seems to pick up on Sunghoon's unspoken communication, smirking as she says, "I mean, you're Kang Minhee's sister, right?" She then slowly turns her attention to you.

Ah, that's how she knew. He must have spoken ill of Minhee and you enough times for her to recognize you. Fueled by this assumption, you shift into defence mode. "Yeah, I am," you reply sharply, your expression hardening as you lean back, raising your eyebrows and waiting for her response, half-expecting her to be rude to you.

Strangely, the waitress's expression brightens. "It's nice to meet you, Y/N. Can I get you anything?" Her voice carries genuine warmth.

Now you feel a bit guilty. She seems genuinely nice.

"Uh," you glance at the menu again, uncertain of what to order. "What's good?"

Sunghoon intervenes with a smile. "She'll take my usual," he tells the waitress as she departs. Ordinarily, you dislike when men presume to order for you, but in this instance, you're grateful for the assistance. "It's just a plain cheese and ham panini with tomato, pesto, and hot sauce. It sounds simple, but it's delicious."

You expected Sunghoon to be a burger and fries kind of guy, but with his physique and strict regimen, you should have known his tastes would lean towards the healthier side of things.

“Did you order a drink with this ‘usual’ or am I supposed to just swallow it dry?”

“Comes with diet coke and a lime.” He says timidly, now for the first time he is self-conscious about his food choice. Sunghoon would like nothing more than to chomp into a pizza and a full-fat Pepsi but with National’s coming up at the end of the year, he needs to stick somewhat to his meal plan. In hindsight, he should have ordered you something you might have liked. What did you like? He didn’t even know that simple fact, “Do you want something else? I can change it.”

“No it’s okay, I’ll trust your judgment,” You relax into the booth, “Shoot me if i’m being too straight forward but don’t you have enough money to go like, I don’t know, somewhere nicer than this?”

Raising his hands in a gun motion he pretends to shoot you and you fake a wound in your shoulder. It’s nice to be playful like this, Sunghoon hasn’t had this for a long time, “You know how to ask a question, Sweets.”

He then shrugs and looks around the cafe, not unlike how you were doing earlier but his eyes aren’t filled with distaste; they’re shining in fondness.

“It’s where my dad would take me after practices. Mum would never let me come here once I started aiming for professional level, too much grease and too many carbs.” He recalls a time his mum had him on a diet at 11 because he wasn’t flying high enough and a frown appeared on his face, “My dad though, he wanted me to be at least somewhat a normal kid so every Wednesday when mum worked late we would come here. Eat whatever we want and then pop a breath mint in the car.”

Sunghoon’s features are mixed with hurt and fondness, “Sorry, about your dad.” You offer your condolences.

When Sunghoon was 15 his dad died of a heart attack right before the Junior Championships and it broke him to the point he didn’t want to skate anymore, it wasn’t fun because his dad was always the one to cheer him on. His parents had their roles, his mum was strict and direct, getting him to train hard and achieve his best. And his dad was the reliever, encouraging him to have fun and let loose, be a kid. With one half of the balance scales gone, it was difficult for Sunghoon to maintain any adolescent normality. Perhaps that’s why he’s so fond to have you around.

In the silence you speak up, “You know your dad used to sneak me a packet of Haribos nearly every competition.” The boy's head whips to look at you and tilts, a knowing look on his face, “Yeah, and every time he would say ‘With everything so sour, we deserve something sweet’.” You smile at the thought.

“I-, he was kind like that.” He wants to say more, but he stops himself.

His dad was the nicest man in the whole world. When you found out the news that he passed away, you cried a little. Your mum being your mum she didn’t understand it, claimed you didn’t know him enough to mourn. Regardless of how well you knew him, people who were so kind and loving don’t deserve to be taken from this world so quickly.

You see the look on Sunghoon’s face lighten up a little, the shadow over his eyes washing away and when he looked at you, the sparkle came back, “So, you can’t hate this place or else I can pull the dead dad took me here card.”

“Fine. I love it.” The words feign mocking when in actuality they are full of understanding.

The waitress from earlier brings over the drinks in a frosted glass with a lime wedge on the rim, “There you go! Added extra ice for my Ice Prince.”

My. She could have said ‘The’.

It stirred up something within your chest. Jealousy? Okay but why are you getting jealous over this? You don’t know because you aren’t exactly his and you have never been the threatened type, so you don’t know what’s going on with you.

“Food will be right out!” She hops away and she is back in a flash with the Paninis.

What you don’t expect is Sunghoon to take both of them and add some condiments, opening up the middle to pour a slight bit of salt and some mayonnaise.

“Excuse me, I don't need your hands all over my food.” Crossing your arms you wait for him to stop but he doesn’t. Instead, he shows you his hands, stretching them over the table.

“Look how clean they are, Sweets.” They are clean and oh-so pretty. Suddenly you’re jealous of the food that receives his touch, wishing it was you. You need to get a grip, first the waitress, and now a piece of toasted bread are the objects of your envy.

It’s like your crush from when you were little came back tenfold, with every second you spend with him that little innocent pash is turning into full blown infatuation. Now with added hormones, it’s like you’re drawn to him more than ever. It’s scary how quickly you fell back into your feelings, whatever they were.

“Y/N?” He brings you back to reality with his low voice, retreating his hand, “Lost you for a minute there.”

Passing you the food you thank him, “Sorry, happens a lot. I tend to overthink literally everything.” It’s a confession you haven’t let pass your lips. Not ever. “I learned to control it as I got older but if I’m upset I can’t stop it 99% of the time, even if it’s something simple like putting salt on this food.”

Sunghoon sees you physically overthinking what you just said. It’s the exact same face you made when you were inches from kissing him.

He understands the situation earlier a little better now.

“So what’s upsetting you now, Sweets?” He asks, “You said you didn’t feel good enough, what happened?”

Shuddering, you remember your words. You’re embarrassed that you blurted out your feelings so readily, “It’s nothing.” Then you remember, “Why did you think it was my mum?”

“If your mum is anything like mine, and I guarantee she is, then I don’t ‘think’ it was your mum, I know it.” There’s an empathy shining in his eyes, “What did she do?”

“I got some good news, and when I told her about it,” Sighing, you try to aggregate your feelings. Sunghoon’s hand makes contact with your forearm as he sees you struggle. The soothing motion of his thumb calms you instantly, “she just dismissed it. Like my achievement wasn’t up to par with Mini’s.”

“What was the good news?”

“Nothing major I guess. I’m the top student at my University for the year and I’m receiving an award.”

Sunghoon is furious. Your mum had downplayed your achievement and now you don’t think it’s a big deal and he wasn’t having it, “Y/N. You go to Yonsei, right?” Once you nod he continues, “Then that IS major, what are you talking about?”

“It’s not exactly a Championship medal.” Your shoulders slump.

“And?” Squeezing your arm he tries to make you see past your mother and her shitty attitude, “Some people would think your achievement means more than one of his, does that make Minhee’s less than yours?” You mumble a quick ‘of course not’, not grasping what he’s saying, “Then why do you think that way about your award? Sweets, it’s fucking amazing you should be proud of yourself.”

You are, it’s your mum who isn’t and that’s what you can’t get over.

Instead of answering back you avoid the conversation altogether and start eating the food in front of you.

One bite has you falling in love with the taste, the pesto combination with the cheese and parma ham melts in your mouth and makes your tongue dance. You owe this shabby place an apology.

Triumph etches onto Sunghoon’s face as he sees the same fireworks behind your eyes that he had when he first tried the food. He knew you’d like it.

“Oh, my days.” You stare at him wide-eyed, one hand covering your mouth. Never will you doubt him again.

“Told you.” He smirks and eats some of his own, the familiar aroma and your face make his chest fill with glee and gratification, “I’ve just learned two things about you in this last minute.”

“And what’s that?” You question, taking another bite.

“You love the food here and will never question my taste again,” Your eyes are still on the food but you nod to agree, “And you’re an avoider.”

What is that supposed to mean?

“An avoider?”

Sunghoon leans back and picks up a tissue, cleaning the crumbs from his fingers, “You changed the topic pretty fast when you didn’t want to have a conversation you’re uncomfortable with. You can’t accept what I’m saying is right, your achievement is just as mighty as all of Minhee’s and it IS a big deal.”

Arguing with him about it is pointless. Does it mean you won’t though? No.

“It’s not that I'm not accepting what you’re saying,” it is, he thinks to himself, “I just don’t need to air my drama or feelings to someone I don’t know.”

“Believe it or not, asking questions and having conversations like this is how you get to know people,” Sunghoon pushed the food to the side and leaned forward, “I just want to get to know you.”

You challenge him by matching his posture and leaning on the table, “Whatever happened to, oh I don’t know, what’s your favourite colour?”

“White. See, easy right?” He’s smug. Sunghoon isn’t trying to pressure you to answer the question, he just thinks if you speak about the issue, it’ll alleviate the burden. A problem shared is a problem halved after all. “How about you ask me anything at all, and I’ll answer it because I know that’s how you get to know me.”

“Anything at all?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why didn’t you kiss me earlier?”

Stunned. Shocked. Astounded. Whatever other synonym he could use, that’s exactly how he feels right now. For the first time in his life, he is speechless. How do you keep doing this to him? Never has anyone been so forthright with him.

Seeing his cheeks flush red and eyes dart around as if finding the answer in his brain you know you’ve won, “Not so eager to speak now, huh?”

Exhaling, Sunghoon sits back, “You looked like you were going to pass out,” He begins his answer, “You got in your head about something and it made you second guess.”

“I was thinking about Minhee.”

Sunghoon’s face shrivels, “Sweets, I know we’re compared a lot but I didn’t think he’d be my competition with you too?” Sunghoon’s voice is playful but he is worried about the next words out your lips.

Stretching over the table you slap his chest, “Ew, no that’s disgusting! Don’t even think like that!” You’re appalled at even the inclination, “It’s just that, you’re Park Sunghoon, you said it yourself he’s your competition,” He goes to say something and you stop him, “in SKATING. You’re so disgusting.” Laughter fills your booth, food and drinks forgotten, “If I ever kissed you he would freak the fuck out.”

The boy across from you knows exactly what you’re talking about, more than know, “If Minhee wasn’t a factor, would you have kissed me back?”

“Yes.”

Responding before your brain has a chance to filter the words is also a downside to your overthinking mind. So many thoughts in one brain make it easier for slips like this to happen, but you aren’t too concerned about this one, he probably already knew you would have kissed him back there if you weren’t preoccupied with contemplation.

Just as you think you’ll get to speak about what transpired earlier, the waitress comes over to take your plates away, “All done?”

Sunghoon nods and goes to pull out his wallet to pay but as he pats himself down to find it, he remembers it’s in his coat - the coat you’re still wearing “Uh, Sweets?” He points to his coat trying to tell you it’s in there.

Smirking you search the inner pockets to find a Prada wallet. You could have some fun with this.

“That’s okay, Hoonie, I’ve got it.” You pull out a few £20 notes and hand them to the waitress, “It’s my treat tonight, didn’t I tell you that? Only the best for my hard-working man.” Making kissy faces at him, his face goes red and his lips go in a thin line.

It wasn’t the fact you just paid £80 for a £12 meal with his money, although that will be addressed later on, it was the nickname and calling him your man that has him trying to control himself. The sweet albeit lightheartedly jeering way of your words made his heart tight in the best possible way. If there was a button board on Sunghoon’s chest, filled with all his emotions like annoyance, lust, happiness, solace, and aggravation, you had pushed every one of them tonight.

Laughing you put the wallet back into his coat. He looks so cute when he goes red like that, it almost makes you want to treat him like an actual princess or stuff him in your pocket. Either way, you wanted to look after him in some form or other.

“Are you quite done now?” Sunghoon gains back his composure as he watches you chuckling away to yourself.

Suddenly, nothing was funny anymore when your phone goes off, flashing your brother's name on the screen.

You have to go home and Sunghoon knows it too, “Y/N, I would keep you out all night if I could, but Minhee might send out a missing police report if I do.”

Now that you’ve somewhat spoken the issue out loud, you think you’re being a bit over the top about it all but your body still has the overbearing weight placed on your shoulders. Facing your mum right now was the last thing you wanted but you know you can’t avoid her forever.

“I’ll text him. He thinks I’m at Rina’s place telling her and Allen the news.” Quickly standing up you type a generic reply back, telling him you’ll be home soon.

Sunghoon keeps two steps behind you while you walk out of the cafe, his arm hovering by your side to guide you as you text and walk at the same time, he waves goodbye to the waitress and she wafts the cash in her face, fanning herself with his hard-earned money. All he can do is laugh and show his disbelief at her flaunting through his expression.

“There. Sent.” You put the phone into Sunghoon’s coat pocket. You’re almost at his car when you hear him speak up.

“Hey, Sweets?”

“Hmm?”

Sunghoon grabs your left arm, twirls you around, and presses his lips against yours.

The action knocks the air from your lungs and your eyes widen. Park Sunghoon was kissing you. His palms cup each of your cheeks, his lips moving against yours as he backs you up until your back hits the side of his car. This is what you wanted back at the rink, to have the feeling of his mouth moulding to yours, except it was better than expected, it felt like heaven.

He can't seem to get enough of you as he fervently kisses your mouth, his tongue sliding along your lips, eliciting a soft moan from you that's music to his ears. It was a daring move to kiss you so suddenly, and in an ideal world, he would have asked for permission first. But he knows that might have sparked another bout of overthinking from you, and he couldn't risk losing this second chance to kiss you tonight.

Sliding his hands into your hair, he gently pulls your head back, granting him better access to your open mouth, deepening the kiss. Lost in the sensation of your lips, he doesn't even notice the subtle movement of your fingers dancing along his waist until they settle between his lower back and the top of his ass.

At this moment, nothing could stop you from kissing or touching him.

Except, perhaps, one person.

Your phone vibrates, indicating an incoming call, but you're too entranced by Sunghoon's lips and tongue to notice. Pressing his body against yours, he traps you between him and the car, the sensation of his hips against yours causing you to instinctively grind against him, using your hands to pull him closer.

However, in the intimate closeness, he can feel your phone vibrating against your body. As much as he wants to ignore it, he knows you can't. "Sweets, your phone," he murmurs between kisses, his hands dropping from your hair to reach into your pocket, even as your lips continue to chase after his. "It's Minhee; you better take it."

No way has he cock blocked you twice in one night.

Grumbling, you take the phone from Sunghoon and answer, “Hi Minhee…No, I wasn’t ignoring you, I was putting on my shoes…no no, you don’t need to pi-”

You pause mid-sentence when Sunghoon starts kissing your neck and squeezing your waist. What does he think he's doing? Glancing down, you catch his eyes sneakily looking up at you. Attempting to push him away only results in him biting down, his fangs teasing the verge of breaking skin. In any other situation, you might have found it hot, but with Minhee yapping in your ear, you don't have time to appreciate it.

“Look, I’m on my way home…I’ll walk, it's not that far…seriously, Minhee- Oh,” you moan involuntarily when Sunghoon kisses your sweet spot, and once he's found it, he doesn’t stop licking and nibbling, “Hoonie, stop it!” You remove the phone from your ear and whisper-shout at him.

“I love it when you call me that,” he smirks, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

Hearing Minhee’s voice come through the phone again, you lift it back up to your ear, “What? Oh, I stubbed my toe, look I’ll be home soon alright…Yes, Allen is here…you know he and Rina are together. I’m going to go, see you soon.” Hanging up, you sigh in exasperation.

Giving Sunghoon a few light whacks, you demand, “Why did you do that?” You're almost certain Minhee heard him, or at least now he might think you're hooking up with Allen.

Bringing his face back up to yours, Sunghoon just shrugs and kisses you again with as much fervour as before. His lips are addicting, and you don’t want to stop, but Rina lives 20 minutes from your house if you walk, and this cafe is at least a 30-minute drive. “Sunghoon, I need to go back,” you say between his insistent kisses.

“How long do I have?” He needs to know how long he can indulge in this before having to let you go.

“Not even a second. I’ll already be late even if we leave now.” When his forehead falls on yours you see the pain on his face, like you’re depriving him of a basic human need.

"Don't say that, tell your friend to phone and say you're staying with her tonight." Sunghoon can't stop his lips from capturing yours again. It's as if he's had a taste of you and doesn't want to give it up, especially now. His hand teases the waist of your trousers, tempting to dip in and touch you where you desperately need him.

Personally, you would love nothing more than to call Rina up and get her to lie, she would do it in a heartbeat but Minhee would never believe it, “I can’t. I never stay over when he has practice in the morning. Mum never wants to make a stop off to pick me up.”

“You’re killing me here.” He states breathlessly, his fingertips dancing down to your pussy as he ghosts your neck with his breath. He’s waiting on you to give him the green light but you are far too concerned about getting home.

He suddenly hates your mum a little more than before. If it wasn’t her dismissing your accomplishments, it was her inability to put you on her priority list, “Can’t you just skip his practice? He’ll have more, trust me he needs it.”

“Don’t ruin this.” You warn him from speaking any more about your brother. It does bring you back to reality just who you were kissing, but you can’t focus on that right now, your only concern is getting home.

Sunghoon apologises by kissing you again, this time more gently, like it came naturally to him, “I need to go home. No excuses.”

It isn't what he wants to hear, but he has to accept it. Stepping away from you, his gaze remains fixed on your lips, which are lush and swollen; he can only picture what they would look like if he had more time to toss you in the back seat. His mind immediately returns to you with the lever, and to be honest, he could throw a tantrum right now over the situation at hand. It was unjust that he couldn't just have you, and he wasn't sure if he'd ever get the chance again.

Moving to his side of the car he slides in and you follow suit. He uses the excuse of buckling your seatbelt for you to give you another kiss and it has you internally giggling and kicking your feet.

You do the same to him, grabbing the seatbelt from him and clipping him in, leaning over to press your lips against his soft ones.

“All I need is 5 minutes,” He whispers against your lips and you laugh, swatting his chest.

You can’t say you don’t ponder it, and when you see his hard on poking so slightly against his trousers, you look at the time and really wonder if you could, but you can’t risk Minhee even getting a whiff of this, “Next time.”

Sunghoon's eyes change from desire to hope in real time, "There'll be a next time?" His cool and confident demeanour fades and is replaced with puppy-like grin as he realises you want more than what you had tonight.

“If you get me home in the next 25 minutes there can be.” You pose and with that, Sunghoon drives out of the car park and down the highway going 10 above the limit.

Reaching closer to your house you put a hand on his thigh as you speak, “Better to drop me off here, so Mini doesn’t see you.” You also have to fake that you walked home from Rina’s so if a big fancy car starts pulling up outside your house, he’s going to know something is up.

Sunghoon takes your hand on his thigh and brings it to his lips, maintaining eye contact with the road as he stops at the curb of your neighbour's house 2 doors down. His grip tightens on your hand as he looks at the time, “Got you here in 27 minutes, Sweets.” Proud of himself he adorns a smile that splits his face in half.

Tutting you pout at him, “I guess there can’t be a next time, so sorry Hoonie.” His stunned face was worth holding in your laugh to act like you’re serious, “If only you had gotten here 2 minutes quicker.”

“Come on,” He exasperated, “There were like 10 red lights in a row.” His thumb points back to where you just drove from.

It’s true, it was bad luck, but you liked playing with him like this.

“Sorry, see you at the rink yeah?” You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to get out your side of the car, but Sunghoon isn’t letting it end here.

He stretches over to shut the door back over making you gasp, startled by the sudden move, “You don’t want to be a thief do you?” You think he’s going to hit out with something cheesy like how you stole his heart of something, but when his hand grips the coat you’re wearing you understand what he means, “Bad enough you gave my money away but now you’re trying to steal a £500 coat?”

Perplexed by both the price and the unexpected accusation, your mouth hangs open. No wonder the coat is so cosy and warm—it costs most of your month's paycheck. Exiting the car, you impishly mutter a 'fine' as you remove the jacket, placing it on the passenger seat before walking away, feeling considerably colder than before.

Just as you reach the vicinity of your house, Sunghoon calls out, "Sweets?" You spin around to see him jogging up behind you, holding your phone. Ah, you put it in his coat pocket after Minhee's call. Taking it from his grip, you thank him, only to be surprised again when he says, "You also forgot this." What else did you even have on your person to forget?

Sunghoon's mouth quickly meets yours for the nth time tonight. A kiss. You forgot to kiss him.

Sighing, you realize you have to put an end to it. Lingering out in the open so close to your home practically guarantees Minhee will see. "Hoonie."

"Shh," he hushes you, continuing the kiss, "I know, but let me have it since there won't be a next time." A fake sad look takes over his face, his hands running up and down your sides.

"Ugh fine, since you gave me my phone I suppose I could spare you some time." Crossing your arms, you act irritated, while his 'sadness' transforms into a self-satisfied smile. That was the dynamic between you both, always giving what you got, and you wanted to explore it more, no matter how difficult it was.

“See you at the rink then, Sweets.” Messing up your hair he skips back to his car like a kid on Christmas. He was the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

Spending these past few hours with Sunghoon was like nothing you had ever experienced before. He knew how to wash all of your worries and woes away better than some people you’ve known for years. And when he kissed you it sent shooting stars through your body. If only 8-year-old you could see what had just happened, she would burst with excitement.

With a smile on your face, you rapidly run into your house and up the stairs, trying to be quiet but also too lost in the dizziness from Sunghoon’s kisses. As you reach the top of the stairs, Minhee opens his door and gives you a quizzical look. Oh no, he didn’t see, did he?

“Why do you look like you won the lottery?” Phew, he hadn’t.

“Just, excited about getting the award, that’s all.” It wasn’t totally a lie, he would see right through you if you started to babble out any other excuse so you had to stick to something believable. You are happy about the award, there isn’t a doubt about it, but Sunghoon reassuring you throughout the night made you stop and acknowledge how happy you really were to receive it. Your mum was the one that ruined it for you.

Minhee follows you when you walk into your room, “Y/N? You know I would be there if I could right?” Facing him, you see how sorry he looks about the situation, “I tried to phone the company to move the filming but they can’t.” Of course, he would try to move it for you, that was the kind of brother he was.

A surge of guilt overcomes your body. Here he was trying to move his schedule around, a big important schedule might you add, and you were out there kissing the one boy you shouldn’t be. If Sunghoon wasn’t such a threat to Minhee, you think they could go back to being somewhat friends, but that’s never going to happen.

“It’s okay, Mini. I know you can’t just cancel it.” Your voice is reassuring but his features still hold hurt.

“It’s not okay, Y/N. You’re the most important thing to me in this world, I want to be there for your big moments like you’ve been there for mine.” You could cry. Minhee wasn’t the type to show his emotions so being on the receiving end of such words makes you tear up a little, “Hey, Bubs, don’t cry.”

He hasn’t called you Bubs in so long, the childhood nickname growing out as you both got older. There was a bond between you and your brother, other siblings used to say how envious they were.

“I don’t want to speak ill of our mum but she was a bitch tonight. I should have said something.”

Shaking your head, you wipe your tears and look down before speaking, “Mini, it wouldn’t have helped.” Your voice cracks and your throat closes a little, “She’s always like that anyway.”

“It doesn’t make it right.” He says disapprovingly.

Minhee pulls you into a tight hug and you instantly relax. Your brain starts to overthink everything again. The lack of proudness from your mother, the kisses from Sunghoon, and the brotherly affection you’re currently receiving. Could you have it all? Getting to know Sunghoon tonight, you don’t think you can leave it where you did. There was something there between you both, you fit together like skates to ice.

“I am so proud of you, Bubs.” Minhee strokes the back of your head, “and I might not be able to go to your ceremony, but when I beat that prick and come first at Nationals? I’m dedicating that to you. I promise you that.”

That prick…Park Sunghoon.

You couldn’t have it all.

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#enha smut #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #aj writes #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #enha fluff #sunghoon x reader

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mostlysignssomeportents · 6 months

Text

The enshittification of garage-door openers reveals a vast and deadly rot

I'll be at the Studio City branch of the LA Public Library on Monday, November 13 at 1830hPT to launch my new novel, The Lost Cause. There'll be a reading, a talk, a surprise guest (!!) and a signing, with books on sale. Tell your friends! Come on down!

How could this happen? Owners of Chamberlain MyQ automatic garage door openers just woke up to discover that the company had confiscated valuable features overnight, and that there was nothing they could do about it.

Oh, we know what happened, technically speaking. Chamberlain shut off the API for its garage-door openers, which breaks their integration with home automation systems like Home Assistant. The company even announced that it was doing this, calling the integration an "unauthorized usage" of its products, though the "unauthorized" parties in this case are the people who own Chamberlain products:

https://chamberlaingroup.com/press/a-message-about-our-decision-to-prevent-unauthorized-usage-of-myq

We even know why Chamberlain did this. As Ars Technica's Ron Amadeo points out, shutting off the API is a way for Chamberlain to force its customers to use its ad-beshitted, worst-of-breed app, so that it can make a few pennies by nonconsensually monetizing its customers' eyeballs:

https://arstechnica.com/gadgets/2023/11/chamberlain-blocks-smart-garage-door-opener-from-working-with-smart-homes/

But how did this happen? How did a giant company like Chamberlain come to this enshittening juncture, in which it felt empowered to sabotage the products it had already sold to its customers? How can this be legal? How can it be good for business? How can the people who made this decision even look themselves in the mirror?

To answer these questions, we must first consider the forces that discipline companies, acting against the impulse to enshittify their products and services. There are four constraints on corporate conduct:

I. Competition. The fear of losing your business to a rival can stay even the most sociopathic corporate executive's hand.

II. Regulation. The fear of being fined, criminally sanctioned, or banned from doing business can check the greediest of leaders.

III. Capability. Corporate executives can dream up all kinds of awful ways to shift value from your side of the ledger to their own, but they can only do the things that are technically feasible.

IV. Self-help. The possibility of customers modifying, reconfiguring or altering their products to restore lost functionality or neutralize antifeatures carries an implied threat to vendors. If a printer company's anti-generic-ink measures drives a customer to jailbreak their printers, the original manufacturer's connection to that customer is permanently severed, as the customer creates a durable digital connection to a rival.

When companies act in obnoxious, dishonest, shitty ways, they aren't merely yielding to temptation – they are evading these disciplining forces. Thus, the Great Enshittening we are living through doesn't reflect an increase in the wickedness of corporate leadership. Rather, it represents a moment in which each of these disciplining factors have been gutted by specific policies.

This is good news, actually. We used to put down rat poison and we didn't have a rat problem. Then we stopped putting down rat poison and rats are eating us alive. That's not a nice feeling, but at least we know at least one way of addressing it – we can start putting down poison again. That is, we can start enforcing the rules that we stopped enforcing, in living memory. Having a terrible problem is no fun, but the best kind of terrible problem to have is one that you know a solution to.

As it happens, Chamberlain is a neat microcosm for all the bad policy choices that created the Era of Enshittification. Let's go through them:

Competition: Chamberlain doesn't have to worry about competition, because it is owned by a private equity fund that "rolled up" all of Chamberlain's major competitors into a single, giant firm. Most garage-door opener brands are actually Chamberlain, including "LiftMaster, Chamberlain, Merlin, and Grifco":

https://www.lakewoodgaragedoor.biz/blog/the-history-of-garage-door-openers

This is a pretty typical PE rollup, and it exploits a bug in US competition law called "Antitrust's Twilight Zone":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/16/schumpeterian-terrorism/#deliberately-broken

When companies buy each other, they are subject to "merger scrutiny," a set of guidelines that the FTC and DoJ Antitrust Division use to determine whether the outcome is likely to be bad for competition. These rules have been pretty lax since the Reagan administration, but they've currently being revised to make them substantially more strict:

https://www.justice.gov/opa/pr/justice-department-and-ftc-seek-comment-draft-merger-guidelines

One of the blind spots in these merger guidelines is an exemption for mergers valued at less than $101m. Under the Hart-Scott-Rodino Act, these fly under the radar, evading merger scrutiny. That means that canny PE companies can roll up dozens and dozens of standalone businesses, like funeral homes, hospital beds, magic mushrooms, youth addiction treatment centers, mobile home parks, nursing homes, physicians’ practices, local newspapers, or e-commerce sellers:

http://www.economicliberties.us/wp-content/uploads/2022/12/Serial-Acquisitions-Working-Paper-R4-2.pdf

By titrating the purchase prices, PE companies – like Blackstone, owners of Chamberlain and all the other garage-door makers – can acquire a monopoly without ever raising a regulatory red flag.

But antitrust enforcers aren't helpless. Under (the long dormant) Section 7 of the Clayton Act, competition regulators can block mergers that lead to "incipient monopolization." The incipiency standard prevented monopolies from forming from 1914, when the Clayton Act passed, until the Reagan administration. We used to put down rat poison, and we didn't have rats. We stopped, and rats are gnawing our faces off. We still know where the rat poison is – maybe we should start putting it down again.

On to regulation. How is it possible for Chamberlain to sell you a garage-door opener that has an API and works with your chosen home automation system, and then unilaterally confiscate that valuable feature? Shouldn't regulation protect you from this kind of ripoff?

It should, but it doesn't. Instead, we have a bunch of regulations that protect Chamberlain from you. Think of binding arbitration, which allows Chamberlain to force you to click through an "agreement" that takes away your right to sue them or join a class-action suit:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/20/benevolent-dictators/#felony-contempt-of-business-model

But regulation could protect you from Chamberlain. Section 5 of the Federal Trade Commission Act allows the FTC to ban any "unfair and deceptive" conduct. This law has been on the books since 1914, but Section 5 has been dormant, forgotten and unused, for decades. The FTC's new dynamo chair, Lina Khan, has revived it, and is use it like a can-opener to free Americans who've been trapped by abusive conduct:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

Khan's used Section 5 powers to challenge privacy invasions, noncompete clauses, and other corporate abuses – the bait-and-switch tactics of Chamberlain are ripe for a Section 5 case. If you buy a gadget because it has five features and then the vendor takes two of them away, they are clearly engaged in "unfair and deceptive" conduct.

On to capability. Since time immemorial, corporate leaders have fetishized "flexibility" in their business arrangements – like the ability to do "dynamic pricing" that changes how much you pay for something based on their guess about how much you are willing to pay. But this impulse to play shell games runs up against the hard limits of physical reality: grocers just can't send an army of rollerskated teenagers around the store to reprice everything as soon as a wealthy or desperate-looking customer comes through the door. They're stuck with crude tactics like doubling the price of a flight that doesn't include a Saturday stay as a way of gouging business travelers on an expense account.

With any shell-game, the quickness of the hand deceives the eye. Corporate crooks armed with computers aren't smarter or more wicked than their analog forebears, but they are faster. Digital tools allow companies to alter the "business logic" of their services from instant to instant, in highly automated ways:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

The monopoly coalition has successfully argued that this endless "twiddling" should not be constrained by privacy, labor or consumer protection law. Without these constraints, corporate twiddlers can engage in all kinds of ripoffs, like wage theft and algorithmic wage discrimination:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

Twiddling is key to the Darth Vader MBA ("I am altering the deal. Pray I don't alter it further"), in which features are confiscated from moment to moment, without warning or recourse:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/26/hit-with-a-brick/#graceful-failure

There's no reason to accept the premise that violating your privacy, labor rights or consumer rights with a computer is so different from analog ripoffs that existing laws don't apply. The unconstrained twiddling of digital ripoff artists is a plague on billions of peoples' lives, and any enforcer who sticks up for our rights will have an army of supporters behind them.

Finally, there's the fear of self-help measures. All the digital flexibility that tech companies use to take value away can be used to take it back, too. The whole modern history of digital computers is the history of "adversarial interoperability," in which the sleazy antifeatures of established companies are banished through reverse-engineering, scraping, bots and other forms of technological guerrilla warfare:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

Adversarial interoperability represents a serious threat to established business. If you're a printer company gouging on toner, your customers might defect to a rival that jailbreaks your security measures. That's what happened to Lexmark, who lost a case against the toner-refilling company Static Controls, which went on to buy Lexmark:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/felony-contempt-business-model-lexmarks-anti-competitive-legacy

Sure, your customers are busy and inattentive and you can degrade the quality of your product a lot before they start looking for ways out. But once they cross that threshold, you can lose them forever. That's what happened to Microsoft: the company made the tactical decision to produce a substandard version of Office for the Mac in a drive to get Mac users to switch to Windows. Instead, Apple made Iwork (Pages, Numbers and Keynote), which could read and write every Office file, and Mac users threw away Office, the only Microsoft product they owned, permanently severing their relationship to the company:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

Today, companies can operate without worrying about this kind of self-help measure. There' a whole slew of IP rights that Chamberlain can enforce against you if you try to fix your garage-door opener yourself, or look to a competitor to sell you a product that restores the feature they took away:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

Jailbreaking your Chamberlain gadget in order to make it answer to a rival's app involves bypassing a digital lock. Trafficking in a tool to break a digital lock is a felony under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright, carrying a five-year prison sentence and a $500,000 fine.

In other words, it's not just that tech isn't regulated, allowing for endless twiddling against your privacy, consumer rights and labor rights. It's that tech is badly regulated, to permit unlimited twiddling by tech companies to take away your rightsand to prohibit any twiddling by you to take them back. The US government thumbs the scales against you, creating a regime that Jay Freeman aptly dubbed "felony contempt of business model":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/23/how-to-fix-cars-by-breaking-felony-contempt-of-business-model/

All kinds of companies have availed themselves of this government-backed superpower. There's DRM – digital locks, covered by DMCA 1201 – in powered wheelchairs:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2022/06/when-drm-comes-your-wheelchair

In dishwashers:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/03/cassette-rewinder/#disher-bob

In treadmills:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/22/vapescreen/#jane-get-me-off-this-crazy-thing

In tractors:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/05/08/about-those-kill-switched-ukrainian-tractors/

It should come as no surprise to learn that Chamberlain has used DMCA 1201 to block interoperable garage door opener components:

https://scholarship.law.marquette.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1233&context=iplr

That's how we arrived at this juncture, where a company like Chamberlain can break functionality its customers value highly, solely to eke out a minuscule new line of revenue by selling ads on their own app.

Chamberlain bought all its competitors.

Chamberlain operates in a regulatory environment that is extremely tolerant of unfair and deceptive practices. Worse: they can unilaterally take away your right to sue them, which means that if regulators don't bestir themselves to police Chamberlain, you are shit out of luck.

Chamberlain has endless flexibility to unilaterally alter its products' functionality, in fine-grained ways, even after you've purchased them.

Chamberlain can sue you if you try to exercise some of that same flexibility to protect yourself from their bad practices.

Combine all four of those factors, and of course Chamberlain is going to enshittify its products. Every company has had that one weaselly asshole at the product-planning table who suggests a petty grift like breaking every one of the company's customers' property to sell a few ads. But historically, the weasel lost the argument to others, who argued that making every existing customer furious would affect the company's bottom line, costing it sales and/or fines, and prompting customers to permanently sever their relationship with the company by seeking out and installing alternative software. Take away all the constraints on a corporation's worst impulses, and this kind of conduct is inevitable:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/microincentives-and-enshittification/

This isn't limited to Chamberlain. Without the discipline of competition, regulation, self-help measures or technological limitations, every industry in undergoing wholesale enshittification. It's not a coincidence that Chamberlain's grift involves a push to move users into its app. Because apps can't be reverse-engineered and modified without risking DMCA 1201 prosecution, forcing a user into an app is a tidy and reliable way to take away that user's rights.

Think about ad-blocking. One in four web users has installed an ad-blockers ("the biggest boycott in world history" -Doc Searls). Zero app users have installed app-blockers, because they don't exist, because making one is a felony. An app is just a web-page wrapped in enough IP to make it a crime to defend yourself against corporate predation:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/27/an-audacious-plan-to-halt-the-internets-enshittification-and-throw-it-into-reverse/

The temptation to enshitiffy isn't new, but the ability to do so without consequence is a modern phenomenon, the intersection of weak policy enforcement and powerful technology. Your car is autoenshittified, a rolling rent-seeking platform that spies on you and price-gouges you:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

Cars are in an uncontrolled skid over Enshittification Cliff. Honda, Toyota, VW and GM all sell cars with infotainment systems that harvest your connected phone's text-messages and send them to the corporation for data-mining. What's more, a judge in Washington state just ruled that this is legal:

https://therecord.media/class-action-lawsuit-cars-text-messages-privacy

While there's no excuse for this kind of sleazy conduct, we can reasonably anticipate that if our courts would punish companies for engaging in it, they might be able to resist the temptation. No wonder Mozilla's latest Privacy Not Included research report called cars "the worst product category we have ever reviewed":

https://foundation.mozilla.org/en/privacynotincluded/articles/its-official-cars-are-the-worst-product-category-we-have-ever-reviewed-for-privacy/

I mean, Nissan tries to infer facts about your sex life and sells those inferences to marketing companies:

https://foundation.mozilla.org/en/privacynotincluded/nissan/

But the OG digital companies are the masters of enshittification. Microsoft has been at this game for longer than anyone, and every day brings a fresh way that Microsoft has worsened its products without fear of consequence. The latest? You can't delete your OneDrive account until you provide an acceptable explanation for your disloyalty:

https://www.theverge.com/2023/11/8/23952878/microsoft-onedrive-windows-close-app-notification

It's tempting to think that the cruelty is the point, but it isn't. It's almost never the point. The point is power and money. Unscrupulous businesses have found ways to make money by making their products worse since the industrial revolution. Here's Jules Dupuis, writing about 19th century French railroads:

It is not because of the few thousand francs which would have to be spent to put a roof over the third-class carriages or to upholster the third-class seats that some company or other has open carriages with wooden benches. What the company is trying to do is to prevent the passengers who can pay the second class fare from traveling third class; it hits the poor, not because it wants to hurt them, but to frighten the rich. And it is again for the same reason that the companies, having proved almost cruel to the third-class passengers and mean to the second-class ones, become lavish in dealing with first-class passengers. Having refused the poor what is necessary, they give the rich what is superfluous.

https://www.tumblr.com/mostlysignssomeportents/731357317521719296/having-refused-the-poor-what-is-necessary-they

But as bad as all this is, let me remind you about the good part: we know how to stop companies from enshittifying their products. We know what disciplines their conduct: competition, regulation, capability and self-help measures. Yes, rats are gnawing our eyeballs, but we know which rat-poison to use, and where to put it to control those rats.

Competition, regulation, constraint and self-help measures all backstop one another, and while one or a few can make a difference, they are most powerful when they're all mobilized in concert. Think of the failure of the EU's landmark privacy law, the GDPR. While the GDPR proved very effective against bottom-feeding smaller ad-tech companies, the worse offenders, Meta and Google, have thumbed their noses at it.

This was enabled in part by the companies' flying an Irish flag of convenience, maintaining the pretense that they have to be regulated in a notorious corporate crime-haven:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/15/finnegans-snooze/#dirty-old-town

That let them get away with all kinds of shenanigans, like ignoring the GDPR's requirement that you should be able to easily opt out of data-collection without having to go through cumbersome "cookie consent" dialogs or losing access to the service as punishment for declining to be tracked.

As the noose has tightened around these surveillance giants, they're continuing to play games. Meta now says that the only way to opt out of data-collection in the EU is to pay for the service:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/30/markets-remaining-irrational/#steins-law

This is facially illegal under the GDPR. Not only are they prohibited from punishing you for opting out of collection, but the whole scheme ignores the nature of private data collection. If Facebook collects the fact that you and I are friends, but I never opted into data-collection, they have violated the GDPR, even if you were coerced into granting consent:

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2023/11/the-pay-or-consent-challenge-for-platform-regulators.html

The GDPR has been around since 2016 and Google and Meta are still invading 500 million Europeans' privacy. This latest delaying tactic could add years to their crime-spree before they are brought to justice.

But most of this surveillance is only possible because so much of how you interact with Google and Meta is via an app, and an app is just a web-page that's a felony to make an ad-blocker for. If the EU were to legalize breaking DRM – repealing Article 6 of the 2001 Copyright Directive – then we wouldn't have to wait for the European Commission to finally wrestle these two giant companies to the ground. Instead, EU companies could make alternative clients for all of Google and Meta's services that don't spy on you, without suffering the fate of OG App, which tried this last winter and was shut down by "felony contempt of business model":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/05/battery-vampire/#drained

Enshittification is demoralizing. To quote @wilwheaton, every update to the services we use inspires "dread of 'How will this complicate things as I try to maintain privacy and sanity in a world that demands I have this thing to operate?'"

https://wilwheaton.tumblr.com/post/698603648058556416/cory-doctorow-if-you-see-this-and-have-thoughts

But there are huge natural constituencies for the four disciplining forces that keep enshittification at bay.

Remember, Antitrust's Twilight Zone doesn't just allow rollups of garage-door opener companies – it's also poison for funeral homes, hospital beds, magic mushrooms, youth addiction treatment centers, mobile home parks, nursing homes, physicians’ practices, local newspapers, or e-commerce sellers.

The Binding Arbitration scam that stops Chamberlain customers from suing the company also stops Uber drivers from suing over stolen wages, Turbotax customers from suing over fraud, and many other victims of corporate crime from getting a day in court.

The failure to constrain twiddling to protect privacy, labor rights and consumer rights enables a host of abuses, from stalking, doxing and SWATting to wage theft and price gouging:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

And Felony Contempt of Business Model is used to screw you over every time you refill your printer, run your dishwasher, or get your Iphone's screen replaced.

The actions needed to halt and reverse this enshittification are well understood, and the partisans for taking those actions are too numerous to count. It's taken a long time for all those individuals suffering under corporate abuses to crystallize into a movement, but at long last, it's happening.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/09/lead-me-not-into-temptation/#chamberlain

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

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dottores · 11 months

Text

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine.

notes: i forgot it was friday SOBS i got distracted reading a new book so we're a little late but anyway <.< its time also i’m gonna answer asks tomorrow i promise 😭

THE DOCTOR

You sighed softly, smoothing out the cloth draped against you as you took a look in the mirror again. There was nothing left to fix--your hair was done, the jewel of your necklace laid neatly in the middle of your chest and your gown was fitted perfectly. You thought you should be alarmed, you didn’t know how the masked person had all of your measurements. You assumed that they had been the one to drop off the gown at the inn you were staying at in Snezhnaya City so you could be properly dressed for the event at Zapolyarny Palace.

You rose to your feet, gnawing at your bottom lip as you looked into the mirror one last time. They had given you a purple gown to wear--and not just any purple, the color of your family, the exact shade. You didn’t like it. You wondered if it was on purpose or just a coincidence but you figured that nothing about this person was a coincidence. They knew everything about you from who you were to the reason you came to Snezhnaya, a secret that you thought had been kept safely between you and your grandfather.

Your eyes turned to the window, catching a rather fancy looking carriage making its way down the stone road in the direction of the inn you were staying at. You figured that was going to be him--whoever the aristocrat was that the masked person had said would be bringing you to the event.

How?

The events were invite only, strictly moderated, how this person had managed to get you in was a mystery. You didn’t know what to expect--you didn’t know how many people would be there nor did you know if all of the Harbingers would be attending. You assumed that they would so you could prepare for the worst case scenario but you hoped that they didn’t.

You didn’t know much about the Fatui Harbingers, just what your grandfather had learned from one of the few networks of intel he had access to that weaved through Snezhnaya. There were eleven of them, but only ten were active--ranked by strength, they struck fear and awe in the hearts of their subordinates. There were rumors that some of the higher ranked ones could rival even the Archons in power. Your grandfather warned you of a few before you left for the north: the Doctor, the Balladeer, the Fair Lady and the Friar, all brutal and dangerous and unforgiving, should they learn of your plans in the north, you would quickly find yourself a fallen pawn in whatever game of chess they were playing against the rest of Teyvat.

You thought your best bet might lay with the Regrator. Evidently, he was the most recently promoted Harbinger of the active ten and focused more on the economy and politics than anything else… or so was assumed, at least. Snezhnaya had prospered since his promotion--the creation of the Northland Bank and its expansion across Teyvat had catapulted Snezhnaya to match the wealth of Liyue, they were even trying to set one up in Fontaine but were failing miserably. You were sure he was just as cruel and vicious as the rest of them but you thought that at least you wouldn’t be dealing with unfamiliar topics.

How you were going to ensure that you were placed with him… or even placed at all instead of being killed on sight, you didn’t know. You figured that was something important to know before you stepped foot in Zapolyarny Palace but you excused the lack of preparation by telling yourself there was no way for you to prepare for something when you didn’t know what to expect. You would figure out the plan as soon as you got there and knew who was there, what the event was for, and what you could do to ensure your survival and success.

Your head hurt but the carriage had come to a stop at the steps of the inn you were staying at and you knew you had to get moving. You let out another heavy breath as you took one last look in the mirror before making your way out of your room and down the steps of the inn.

You gave a soft smile to the elderly man working the front desk as you made your way through the wide lobby, hesitating only for a second when you saw a tall figure ducking out from inside of the carriage. Swallowing thickly, you pushed the doors open, wincing at brisk air stinging your face as soon as you stepped outside.

A brown head of hair whipped around at the sound of the doors shutting behind you, an awkward smile pulled at the lips of your date for the night, warm brown eyes focusing on you, “Hello,” he said, his voice was a bit hesitant and nervous, holding his hand out toward you. “I’m Artem.”

You placed your hand in his, watching as he bent his head down to press a chaste kiss to your knuckles, “I’m-”

“I know who you are,” Artem interrupted, then flushed in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, they… already told me who you were.”

They, you repeated silently as a particularly harsh wind swept through the city, the streets eerily silent.

“They…” you murmured to yourself but Artem suddenly looked nervous, brown eyes flitting around before he motioned for you to join him in the carriage. You inhaled the bitterly cold air as you stepped forward, taking his hand as he helped you up into the carriage before following you in, shutting the dark door behind the two of you.

“You shouldn’t talk about stuff out in the open,” Artem said quietly. “There are always people listening.”

Great, you thought to yourself, gaze twisting around outside. The streets were barren but even you knew there was something off about this city that you couldn’t quite place. For a moment, you caught sight of a figure standing in the window of one of the apartments across the street. You couldn’t make out their features against the backlight but you knew their eyes were directed toward the carriage.

You’d been in the city for two days now and it felt eerily similar to the streets of Fontaine. You didn’t often leave the palace of the Hydro Archon, everything you needed was within it: food, water, libraries, the gardens, but every once in a while, you would escape to go watch a show at one of the theaters. The Hydro Archon liked to keep the nobles of the nation ignorant to the perils of the rest of the civilians and it worked when you were in the ivory tower of the palace but when you were down in the streets, it was impossible to miss how the civilians were on edge, eyes constantly darting around in an anxious panic. There were eyes everywhere--in every window, in every alley, in every corner and crevice and no matter how aware you were of them, there was no hiding from them.

Snezhnaya City was just like that.

Oppressive. Tense. Heavy. Cold beyond just the air around you. But unlike Fontaine, Snezhnaya was not your home. Your name and title held no weight in this city and the threat of the Fatui and what they could do to you weighed on you like the sky had fallen.

“What is this event?” you finally asked, fingers playing with the fabric of your dress as you watched Artem from the corner of your eye.

“They’re filling the last spot,” Artem responded, staring ahead. He didn’t look excited or pleased and you couldn’t help but wonder what the political climate was like here, the relationship between the Snezhnayan aristocrats and the Cryo Archon and her followers--maybe it was something you could use to your advantage… or maybe it would be something that would just damn you even further, showing up with one of them. “For the Harbingers, they’re promoting someone to fill the Eleventh seat.”

Oh, you realized what exactly he meant by filling the last spot, an intense dread sweeping through you because that meant that yes, all of the other Harbingers would likely be there. Instead of dwelling on the subject, you said, “You don’t seem too happy about that.”

Artem turned his head to look at you, evaluating you carefully before shaking his head, “What’s there to be happy about?” he asked dryly. “The stronger they get, the weaker my family gets.”

They’re not united, you realized, and they’re not afraid to admit it.

That was interesting. Artem’s face didn’t twist in regret after he said that nor did he look ashamed, if anything he looked resentful… but then doubt began to stir. If the Fatui knew about the dissent, why would they invite them to their elite events?

“They let you guys into their events knowing… that?” you asked, side-eyeing Artem, wondering if you had dug yourself a bigger hole by showing up with him.

“They don’t know all of it,” Artem said, “and even if they did, it’s more of an intimidation tactic than anything else. They bring us there to show us their strength, scare us into submission. That’s all it’s about.”

“All of it as in?” you pushed, figuring that if he was going to be so open with information, that you might as well get as much as you can so you knew exactly what you were walking into.

Artem gave you a look as if you should know what he meant. “They think that the Triglav was the only organization we had to fall back on--the Regrator tore it apart a few years ago.”

Why are you telling me all of this? You wanted to ask, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Brown eyes met yours at the silent question, he knew what you were asking.

“They told me who you were,” he said again, except this time, you felt a bit more cold, realizing he knew more than just your name. “I figure they want you to fumble around in the Snezhnayan courts for their amusement but it’ll get you killed--I’m trying to help you.”

“Why?” you questioned. You didn’t know if you could trust him or believe his words and you felt so damn alone and lost that a part of you wanted to jump out of the carriage and flee back to Fontaine--you didn’t know what you were thinking, you were a damn noble girl not some secret agent, super spy who could successfully infiltrate one of the most dangerous organizations in all of Teyvat.

“You want the same thing as I do, don’t you?” was all Artem responded with. “No one knows what they want, what their goal is or anything, but they promised to restore the aristocracy and to do that, the Fatui needs to be weakened… so I figure the more people working for this, the better.”

Your nose wrinkled, “You aligned with these people without even knowing who they are or what they want?” you asked in disbelief.

“Didn’t you?” Artem countered sharply.

You felt hot, called out for your hypocrisy, “That’s not the same. I was desperate.”

“So are we,” Artem said, lips pressed together as he turned away.

The carriage was approaching the palace, as large as the one back home in Fontaine and just as magnificent. Where the one in Fontaine City was lined with gold, stunning beneath the rare show of the sun, Zapolyarny Palace glittered white beneath the moonlight, like a million diamonds coated the surface--beautiful, but possibly the most daunting sight you’d ever come across. The sky that weighed on you tripled in weight, you thought you might throw up.

“What should I expect in there?” you asked quietly, breaking the sudden tension between the two of you. You figured it was not the best idea to antagonize your one ally in this place.

Artem sighed, looking back over at you, “Just stay by me,” he said. “Of all the aristocratic families in Snezhnaya, mine is one that’s heavily aligned with the Fatui… at least in their eyes. We’ll probably have a few of their more important subordinates coming over to talk to us but the Harbingers will be focused on the more antagonistic families to make sure they don’t pull anything. We’ll keep away from them and hopefully, keep their attention off of us. As long as we skate by without having to deal with any of the Harbingers, we’ll be good… I’ll try to find some opportunities for you to slip away and do what you need to do.”

What I need to do, it echoed in your head. The palace was right before you and you still had no idea what you needed to do to prove your stepfather’s hand in your father’s death. You had to find evidence. But how? You figured that there weren’t a lot of Fatui spies in Fontaine--too many would draw too much attention, it would be easier to just have one embedded deep in the courts… which would make it an important, covert operation. They had to have records of that somewhere.

“Do you know what each of the Harbingers do?” you asked.

“Like what they oversee?” Artem questioned, brows furrowed, you nodded. “Vaguely.”

“Intel?”

“Internal intel? I’d say the Regrator or the Rooster. External? The Knave, the Marionette and the Friar all deal with it, as far as I’m aware.”

You went quiet, letting out a shaky breath at his words. Three different Harbingers who could be overseeing your stepfather in Fontaine--the Fourth, the Seventh, or the Tenth. You shut your eyes, trying to calm yourself down. The palace would be crawling with Fatui operatives, how the hell were you supposed to sneak through them all and figure out where the information might be.

Instead of letting yourself become riddled with anxiety, you asked the last question that had been weighing on your mind.

“How don’t the Fatui know about these people?” you asked quietly. “I figured they knew everything that goes on in Snezhnaya, you’d think an organization with this much influence…”

Unless there’s someone hiding it from the inside? But what were the chances of that?

“I don’t know,” Artem admitted. “Maybe they do and we’re all just getting played, or maybe the Harbingers are blind to a rat right beneath their noses.”

“You could do something beyond just standing there,” a cold, dry voice said from behind him.

Dottore didn’t even bother to turn around and face her, instead watching the scene before him carefully. The aristocrats had been steadily arriving for an hour, filling up the ballroom, mingling with one another. Most kept a wide berth from the Fatui who had come out for the event. It was the largest event the Fatui had hosted in decades, twice as big as Pantalone’s promotion because it was signaling the completion of the upper echelon, the start of what would be the final preparations for war.

“I don’t see you rushing to join in the celebrations,” Dottore responded, gaze finally shifting from the wide double doors to Arlecchino, who had come to stand next to him, arms crossed against her chest as she watched Columbina’s fingers fly across the piano.

“I plan to,” Arlecchino told him, “I have a feeling tonight's going to be more interesting than we think.”

Dottore eyed her carefully as he digested the cryptic comment, trying to figure out what exactly she meant, before simply saying, “I hope so, at least then it will be an entertaining waste of my time.”

Arlecchino only let out a huff of laughter, but there was no amusement behind the action, “What do you think of the boy taking the Eleventh Seat?”

“He’s a child.” Dottore waved off the question, he cared not for the boy.

Capitano evidently saw potential in him but Dottore only saw an unpredictability that they shouldn’t be risking this close to the beginning of their real purpose. He only advocated for him because he thought he would get the chance to study him but Pulcinella was being careful to make sure that he was never in the capital long enough for Dottore to get to him. The only boon that came along with promoting him was that he was eager to please, willing to take on the jobs that none of the rest of them wanted to deal with as a means to prove himself.

“Then his moniker is fitting,” this time there was a scathing sort of amusement in her tone, “but even a blind man could make that observation. I asked you for your opinion of him.”

Dottore’s lip twitched in irritation. “That is my opinion of him,” he said coolly. “He is a child. He is immature and foolish, abuses the technique he learned while in the Abyss. He will die soon because of it. I would like to run some tests on him before then but I suppose life isn’t particularly necessary for them anyway… just more convenient.”

Arlecchino scoffed. “All you care about is your research, hm? Not even a hint of concern for those whom you call comrades?”

Dottore leveled his gaze on her. “No,” he said firmly, “and do not pretend as if you do. We both have seen what lies beneath that false face of yours.”

Arlecchino smiled, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the lighting of the ballroom, “Fair enough.”

“Don’t you have something better to do than bother me, Knave?” Dottore asked, a sardonic tone seeping into his words as he continued, “like to go fetch your pet before he makes an embarrassment of us again.”

He turned his attention back to the ballroom floor, pointedly looking in the direction of Brighella, busy trying to woo the daughter of one of the aristocratic families who was giving Pantalone a hard time.

“Speaking of pets,” Arlecchino said, a mocking tone to her voice that Dottore didn’t quite like, “do you plan on getting rid of yours because of his failure to get you the funding you wanted? … I overheard your conversation with the Jester the other day, shame to hear about how poorly all of your projects are going.”

Beneath his mask, Dottore’s eyes hardened, turning his head to the side to look at Arlecchino again. He wasn’t sure what he was more annoyed by: the fact that she had listened in on his conversation with Pierro and he hadn’t even noticed or the fact that she was making a dig at his research.

“Not quite as poorly as the decline of the House of the Hearth. How many of your orphans have gone missing in the past few years again?” Dottore countered lowly, watching as Arlecchino’s eyes flashed with fury for just a moment, needling right through her cold mask.

It wasn’t even like his research was going poorly. It was just the typical pattern of adjusting to failures to find the right set of combinations to perfect the formula. Pierro was just impatient because he did not want to send three of the Eleven out to their missions with delusions that were still sapping their vitality. He had made enough progress so that they were no longer life-threatening with significant use, and as far as he was aware, the Balladeer was going to bring the old, faulty delusions down to Inazuma once Arlecchino’s agents wove their web through the Commissions.

Dottore didn’t even understand why this was all necessary, frowning again as he looked out at the aristocrats. Pantalone had already torn the Triglav apart at its seams and the aristocrats were floundering with no shield to protect them from the Fatui. There was not much consolidation of power left to do in Snezhnaya. If anything, this was just excessive—making sure they knew just how strong the Fatui was so that they didn’t get any bright ideas when they began to focus on obtaining the Gnoses.

“I have the House of the Hearth under control,” Arlecchino said, voice icy. “Can you say the same about your segments?”

Dottore smiled thinly, “Yes.”

Especially now that he had finally made contact with her. If he had known that the barest conversation with her would lead to even the Theta segment doing as he asked with little pushback, maybe he would have reached out sooner.

Maybe.

An odd feeling settled in his chest as his thoughts fell to her again. He didn’t like thinking about her for too long but he hadn’t heard anything from her since that night Rho lost her. He knew she wasn’t dead, the thread still hung from his finger and the mark between his shoulder blades was still a bright purple. He wondered if she was just ignoring him or if there was something else going on. He had tried to look into it but hadn’t been able to find any previous examples of something interfering with a bond… which led him to believe that she was ignoring him, maybe as payback for all of the years he went ignoring her.

Either way, he didn’t like it.

Arlecchino abruptly stepped forward next to him, eyes narrowed. Dottore followed her gaze, eyes falling on the livid expression that Sandrone wore as she spoke to Capitano, standing near the piano Columbina was playing at, motioning in the direction of the double doors of the ballroom. Dottore tried to figure out what had her so angry but nothing stood out--Scaramouche was nowhere to be found and usually he was the one to set her in a foul mood by insulting her automatons, otherwise it wasn’t often that her temper was set off because she simply did not care for anything else.

Arlecchino immediately set off in their direction and Dottore, curiosity piqued and hoping to make the night pass faster but entertaining himself with whatever had Sandrone set off, followed after, watching in amusement as their subordinates and the few aristocrats who had crossed the floor to intermingle scattered at their approach.

Capitano raised his head once he caught sight of the two of them, motioning them over. Sandrone pressed her lips together, staying silent until they were close enough to hear what they were talking about. Columbina’s fingers still flew across the keys of the piano, focused on the sonata, but Dottore knew she was listening too: there was a soft smile gracing her face, one that screamed amusement and not the mere enjoyment that came with playing the instrument. Dottore thought that if Columbina was amused by something, then it might spell trouble for all of them, the eerie comment she made about his soulmate a few months back suddenly ringing through his head.

I would like to meet her when she gets here.

Dottore felt unsettled, raising his head to look out across the ballroom floor to look for something but he didn’t even know what he was looking for. All it took was Sandrone opening her mouth once, and the entire world around him froze and shattered.

“One of the aristocrats brought one of the Hydro Archon’s dogs to our event as his date,” she spat out. “This needs to be handled now.”

There were eyes on you.

You didn’t dare to turn to look so you could figure out who was watching you, the last thing you wanted to do was bring more attention to yourself but you couldn’t smother the growing anxiety. You kept your back to them, feigning interest in whatever conversation Artem was having with one of his cousins so that they didn’t know you were aware of their scrutiny even though every inch of you itched to look behind you.

The ballroom was packed to the brim, you thought that every aristocrat in Snezhnaya must be attending this event. It almost reminded you of the balls back home in Fontaine City. The paintings lining the walls were stunning and the ornaments glittered prettily beneath the dim lighting. No one had made their way to the smooth hardwood floor to dance yet despite the quintet of musicians playing in the corner of the room, a beautiful symphony that was not quite harmonious with the eerie piano being played somewhere behind you.

If you weren’t so nervous, you might be able to appreciate the beauty of it… but Fatui lined the room--agents and mages and captains, they were unarmed as far as you could tell but you had a feeling that could change in a moment’s notice.

You felt trapped, like a cornered animal.

There was no way for you to slip away, not when you were being watched and not when the Fatui seemed to be guarding each and every exit. Everything was crumbling around you and you had only been there for a half hour. You tried to calm yourself down, force yourself to think and figure out a plan but every time you tried to do that, you were interrupted by some Snezhnayan noble who wanted to greet Artem.

What did you expect? You spat at yourself angrily. For the Fatui to leave holes in their defenses right at their heart? For you to just walk right in and be given the information you wanted by your stepfather’s superior?

You would leave empty-handed at this rate--the one opportunity handed to you on a silver platter slipping away like water between your fingers. You had to figure out what to do now because there was nothing you could do if you left the palace without the evidence you needed. Zapolyarny Palace was impenetrable, everyone you had come across had made that clear, you would not get another chance like this. This was your easy way into the palace but what could you do? Even if you managed to slip past the guards into the hall, making an excuse to use the bathroom or freshen up, it didn’t change the fact that somehow, you had already drawn attention to yourself.

How? What had it been?

You had not made any sort of scene. You were not overdressed or underdressed, nor did your colors stand out. There were people dressed in bright red gowns, different shades of purple and blue and green, blacks and whites. Artem was not from a contentious family so there was no reason for him to have drawn attention.

What had done it? Was Artem unaware of some conflict between his family and the Fatui? Or was it something else…

Did someone know who you were?

You felt a bit sick at the thought, smile faltering as your grip on Artem’s forearm tightened. You noticed him cast a brief, worried glance down at you but you were too preoccupied to reassure him that you were okay.

Did someone know who you were?

The question echoed through your head over and over again and you realized, slowly, that it was very, very possible and it was something that you had not even considered could be an issue. Your stepfather shouldn’t know where you were going, you hadn’t even confirmed to your mother that you were leaving for Snezhnaya--you had insisted it was Mondstadt--but if he had taken a picture of you and sent it to his superior in Snezhnaya as intel he was passing along about your family and they recognized you when you walked through those doors with Artem…

Suddenly, the urge to turn around and pinpoint who was watching you skyrocketed because if it were true, then that was how you were going to know which Harbinger was supervising your stepfather’s mission--the first step in finding the evidence.

You let out a quiet breath, about to turn your head to the side just a bit to see if you could catch a glimpse of whoever was staring at you but before you could, a hand brushed your forearm. You masked the irritation you felt as you turned your attention back to Sonia, Artem’s cousin’s wife. She smiled at you, brushing her dark hair over her shoulder as she asked:

“So how did you and Artem meet?”

You smiled, leaning into the man and looking up at him, hoping that the gesture came across more adoring than the brief spike of panic you felt. The two of you had intended on going for a simple story: you had met while on the Snezhnaya-Fontaine border and instantly fell for one another, love at first sight, a classic romance… but now you weren’t sure if admitting that you were from Fontaine was the best course of action. Artem was confused, you could see the glimmer in his eyes as he smiled down at you, and you didn’t know what to do.

The split second that had passed since Sonia’s question felt like eternity and finally you responded with a soft laugh, “We met on the border between Snezhnaya and Fontaine. I had gone a bit north to find a nice present for my siblings, their birthday is coming up. I ran into him while shopping and he helped me find the perfect gift. I thought all of those romance books were exaggerating when they talked about love at first sight but I became a victim of it just like that.”

You were only half listening as Sonia cooed and leaned into Artem’s cousin, talking about how the two of them met at a seaside village in western Snezhnaya. You decided that going with the original story was for the best. If, by chance, the Harbingers did happen to know that you were a noble from Fontaine already then it would only draw more suspicion if it got around to them that you were claiming to be a Snezhnayan commoner or even from another foreign nation.

So many ifs. You hated uncertainty.

Lost in thoughts, you were only drawn back to reality as your forearm stung--the telltale sign that your soulmate was reaching out, again. Your lips pressed together in annoyance.

He had been persistent the past two weeks. Every day, he would ask where you were and what had happened but even if you wanted to, there was no way of telling him where you were--he should know that--but the thing was, you didn’t want to. You thought that he had no right suddenly caring about where you were and if you were okay and you were mad at yourself for giving in and responding when you were hurt. He went twenty years ignoring you when you tried over and over and over again just to get to know him, the person that Celestia had tied you with, and he constantly disregarded and even rebuffed you.

You had never heard of someone being rejected by their soulmate until yours had rejected you. It was humiliating, even if only the two of you were aware of what had been said, but more than that it hurt. You dedicated years to him, your whole life was centered around him from having to hide the fact that you had a soulmate to the years you spent in libraries trying to understand him in hopes that it would somehow make him care about your existence, years that you could have spent with your father.

You looked down as discreetly as you could, reading the scratchy words painted on your forearm:

Where are you?

You barely withheld the roll of your eyes as you turned your gaze back up to Sonia, smiling as she laughed at whatever Artem’s cousin had said.

Artem looked as if he was about to speak up but before he could, there was a sharp rap of metal against glass from the front of the room. Instantly, conversation silenced and all heads turned in the direction of the noise--finally, you could turn to see who was staring at you but it was too late; whoever they were, they had already looked away.

“We are here today to officially announce the occupation of the Eleventh Seat,” a low, male voice announced. Your eyes shifted to him--half of his face was covered by a black mask, white hair long and slicked back--you weren’t sure who he was, you hadn’t been given descriptions of the Harbingers, but you figured he was high ranking if he was making this announcement.

“The Jester,” Artem said under his breath. Your eyes widened just a bit. The Jester, you recognized, the leader. “The rest are…”

All around him, you finished silently, your throat closing up as you caught sight of the daunting figures standing around the stage at the front of the room. You didn’t have to know what they looked like to know who they were, their presence and way they held themselves was evidence enough. An unnerving woman with long black and pink hair leaning on the piano, a man wearing a helmet where the face appeared to be an endless void, a woman with an empty expression, silver hair and a blade strapped to her side and…

“A recruit who has proven himself time and time again: felling our enemies without question when we were faced with the threat of a Natlan tribe on the southern border, protecting our people when the Great Wyvern of the northern caverns awoke from its slumber to terrorize our villages, and defending our integrity when called into question by the former Duke of Costesov…”

The Jester was still talking but your gaze had focused in on a familiar man standing off to the side, a bit aways from the small group at the piano--masked and with wavy blue hair, the Fatui subordinates in the area kept a wide distance from him.

It was him, you realized, a cold feeling settling over you, the man who had attacked the inn you had been staying at.

It was her. His soulmate.

Dottore was barely able to mask the torrent of emotions tearing through him. He had known it even before he reached out to her to confirm it, watching her look down at her forearm as soon as he had asked her where she was, and he didn’t know what to think, or do, for that matter.

Around him, the other Harbingers were still talking amongst each other--Arlecchino making snide comments and Sandrone’s letting loose livid remarks about the sheer audacity the Hydro Archon had to a spy so blatantly to their main base. They were talking about handling her and Dottore knew very well that the only way the Fatui knew how to handle things was by getting rid of them.

Getting rid of her. He couldn’t let that happen--he didn’t know how it would affect him and… Something unfamiliar and uncomfortable tugged hard at his chest as his eyes fell back on the girl in the purple dress, watching as she leaned into a boy from one of the Snezhnayan noble families, listening to Pierro’s speech. This was why he didn’t like thinking about her for too long but now he didn’t really have a choice.

“How are you so sure that she’s a noble from Fontaine?” Dottore asked, cutting off Arlecchino mid-sentence as he looked at Sandrone.

Sandrone’s lip curled up, not even bothering to hide the irritation and disgust as she spared Dottore half a glance. “I’d recognize a member of the five families anywhere,” Sandrone said coldly, nose turned up at him. “I was born into one of them.”

That’s right, Dottore remembered vaguely. Sandrone had come from Fontaine. The Harbingers had long given up their names and old lives, they rarely mentioned their pasts--he wasn’t even sure some of them remembered their pasts, he sent a short look toward Capitano at the thought.

“She’s part of the third family, the one that controls the prisons. You know what her family’s talent is?” Sandrone asked sharply, looking back in the direction of his soulmate. “They learned to utilize their hydro vision in a way that lets them twist up peoples’ insides. They usually use it for interrogation but do you know what else it can be used for?”

The third family. Dottore knew enough about Fontaine’s structure to know what that meant: Fontaine had five aristocratic families that were held above the rest, each one of them controlling one of the five main institutions of the nation. No wonder she had to hide her mark.

“Assassinations,” Capitano finished, voice low.

Dottore scoffed loudly. “Her?” he asked dryly, nodding in the direction of his soulmate, dismissing their deductions instantly. “An assassin? She looks like a newborn deer, not a killer.”

She did, Dottore noted offhandedly, eyes drawing back to her for just a moment. She was trying to hide her anxiety and she was doing a good job at it but every now and then, she slipped up, hands shaking just a bit more than they should, tongue darting out to wet her lips as she looked around. Dottore thought a bit of fondness might’ve been stirring the longer he looked at her so he immediately looked away and quashed it, forcing his attention back to the other Harbingers.

“Appearances can be deceiving, Dottore,” Capitano said quietly.

Not hers, Dottore wanted to spit right back—the girl that spent hours on end trying to talk to him and get to know him, undeterred by his lack of response, was no damn killer but he had no way of explaining that to them without admitting who she was to him and he simply refused to open up that weakness to them.

What should he do? He had to interfere but he didn’t know how to do that without making them question why he was stepping in. Dottore cared for nothing but his research--if this was any other person, Dottore wouldn’t have even bothered to give input into the conversation and he was sure that he was already making them suspicious.

“Whether she’s a threat or not, this has to be handled quickly,” Capitano finally said and Dottore felt cold, mind racing to piece together a plan but nothing was feasible. “We can’t afford to risk anything, not here and not now.”

Dottore’s anxiety began to shift into anger the more he dwelled on it and realized that he was backed into a corner because of her, wondering just how stupid his soulmate was showing up to this event on the arm of some random aristocrat. Livid, his gaze shifted to the side again, watching as she leaned into the man’s arm and smiled up at him.

Betrothed, Dottore suddenly remembered one of the things he had recalled from one of the dreams he had of her life. Is this…

“Who is the man she is with?” he interrupted abruptly, voice tense.

“Artem Melnyk,” a new voice said from behind him, Dottore glanced over his shoulder as Pantalone came to stand next to him. “I take it you all are discussing our unexpected, foreign guest.”

Pantalone looked at Dottore as if he knew exactly who she was--maybe he did, Dottore didn’t know if that was for better or for worse. He felt like a cornered animal, ready to lash out at the first perceived attack.

“He will have to be handled,” Dottore said tightly. “I’ll deal with that.”

Dottore thought he would enjoy having this particular new subject in his labs.

“The more pressing matter is the girl,” Sandrone spat out, her one-track mind stuck on Dottore’s soulmate. “She needs to be taken out.”

Dottore thought this might be it, he was about to lash out, but before he could, Pantalone raised his eyebrows. “A bit rash, no?” he asked, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “How will that make us look? Executing a foreign noble for no good reason besides attending a ball with her lover?”

Lover, Dottore was appalled, turning his head to look at Pantalone. Pantalone, evidently, was incredibly entertained by the situation, smile widening just a bit as Dottore looked at him, making him feel as if he knew exactly what he was doing.

“What do you suggest we do then, Regrator?” Capitano questioned. He did not sound half as amused as Pantalone did.

“Send someone out there to feel her out,” Pantalone said as if it were obvious. His voice took on a more exasperated tone as he continued, “Snezhnaya is in such a poor diplomatic position already specifically because you all tend to kill first, ask questions later. Have we not been trying to rectify that? In what world is killing her the best course of action?”

Sandrone did not look happy, lips pressed together tight, and Pantalone was looking at Dottore, violet eyes expectant as if he was waiting for Dottore to offer to be the one to go talk to her. Dread began to build in his stomach again, realizing that if he went to go talk to her, it would be the end. All of the time he had spent ensuring they would never meet, all of the years he was working severing the bond, it would all be for naught.

“Fine,” Arlecchino said before Dottore could open his mouth. “I’ll do it.”

Dottore didn’t speak as he turned to look at Arlecchino, barely catching the frustrated look in Pantalone’s eyes. Arlecchino was staring right at him, the red x’s in her eyes boring right into him as if she knew something that she shouldn’t, expression cold and unreadable.

Dottore suddenly felt as if he had made a mistake not speaking up immediately.

Just as Arlecchino moved to make her way to his soulmate, Columbina finally spoke up, long, pale fingers wrapping around Arlecchino’s wrist. “No,” she said. “The Doctor will handle it. You promised to play a song with me.”

Dottore thought he liked that even less than Arlecchino’s immediate offer to speak to her but he wasn’t going to give the Knave any time to argue with Columbina, scoffing as he took the opportunity to turn on his heel and walk in the direction of his soulmate and her date.

Pierro’s speech had ended and the musicians were picking up the volume of their piece--soon, couples would make their way out to the ballroom floor to dance but for now, they parted as he crossed the hardwood floor, giving him a wide berth as he walked directly to her.

What was he going to do?

He wondered if this was her plan all along, if she had somehow figured out who he was and what he was a part of so she could throw herself into a dangerous situation and he’d be forced to act. Not for the first time, Dottore felt like he was being played as a puppet except now he didn’t know if it was Celestia holding the strings or her. He had half a mind to let her deal with the consequences of her own actions, let her face one of the other Harbingers and try to convince them she was no threat, but he couldn’t risk letting anything happen to her because it would affect him.

He would have to make sure she knew who he was to her. The last thing he needed was her making a scene if she realized it mid-conversation, assuming she didn’t know already.

She was oblivious to his approach, back turned to him as she talked with Artem Melnyk, but he was not as oblivious. He caught sight of Dottore over her shoulder, expression shifting into one of fear—something that ordinarily would have had him amused but now, just as for the past half an hour, he could only focus on her.

She turned as she noticed Artem’s change in attitude and Dottore wasn’t sure what he was expecting but he wasn’t expecting the anger that followed the confused expression on her face, eyebrows knit together as she stared at him, a hint of anxiety painted in the rage but just that, only a hint.

No recognition and no familiarity--not a type that signaled that she knew she was meeting her soulmate, at least.

Dottore wondered if that meant she had no idea who he was to her and if that was the case, what the hell was she doing there?

For the first time, Dottore’s eyes traced his soulmate’s face. He couldn’t help but notice that even with the anger, her eyes were still gentle and her expression was still soft. You don’t belong here, he wanted to say, not in this place and not with me, but instead, he only held his right hand out to her and watched, waiting for her to take his hand and finally take notice of the thread that connected the two of them.

She hesitated only for a second as she glanced down at his hand, placing her own in it and Dottore watched the double-take, the way her eyes widened just a bit as she looked down at their connected hands, at the thread connected to his thumb that she could see. His grip tightened just enough to force her attention back to his face before she could make a scene.

There was still anger as she looked up at him again but it was diluted beneath a type of astonished adoration that had never before been directed his way. He knew it was just the shock of finally meeting him and that the anger would return when she remembered the years he went ignoring her but it didn't mitigate the unwelcome feeling rising in his gut. He wanted to look away, uncomfortable under the affectionate gaze and uncomfortable even just touching her because he knew deep down that it felt right and he refused to give into this bond.

He refused to play Celestia’s game.

He leaned down to brush his lips against her knuckles, “Dance with me?” he murmured, loud enough just for her to hear.

He figured that once people began to flood the dance floor, he would be able to speak with her without as many unwanted ears able to listen in.

“You’re-” she began, breathless and stunned--distastefully, he noticed that Artem was still holding her arm, as if to protect her from him. The thought itself would have amused him in any other circumstance but now it only irritated him even more.

Dottore cut her off, giving her a thin smile: “The Doctor, Second of the Fatui Harbingers.”

REBLOGS APPRECIATED

#dottore x reader #dottore x you #dottore smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact smut

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thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch · 2 months

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w.count: 1.7k - i am such a pile of mush for this guy

kaeya has always been the type to never admit what he wants. not to the people around him: his friends or family at the winery, not to the wind when he's by himself leaning on the sturdy stone bridge leading into the city, and especially not to himself. or maybe, it's not that he doesn't want to admit he wants something, but more so he firmly believes he deserves less than 'wanting'.

too many things had piled up since he was younger that his conscience had dulled and yearning for things was an action he couldn't bring himself to do. but there are things kaeya alberich wants- yearns for so deeply it makes him anxious.

a stable relationship with his brother. a break from the ever-pressuring uncertainty of his role in this life. a clean break from his homeland he hardly remembers and hardly cares about. hell, sometimes he even wanted to throw his whole surname away. kaeya alberich wants-

"kaeya!"

-you.

kaeya had finished up his tasks for the day and his head was so clouded that some fresh air would do him some good. he found himself leaning over the stone wall of the bridge connecting mondstadt to the wilds of the nation. one of his arms lay across the stone barrier with his hand dangling off the edge. his other propped up to hold his chin as he lazily zones out, shutting his mind off while the wind brushed his hair across his face, and neck, and chest.

then, your voice calling his name zoned him back in, brought him back into the here and now as you jogged up the slope of the bridge. he had to fully twist his body since the obstacle of his eyepatch kept him from giving you his fully brought back attention. his arm still rested on the stone of the bridge, and his back was fully straightened by the time you came to a stop in front of him with your hands on your hips. your lips were pursed, cheeks puffed like a fish. he had to contain his snickering- which he failed at by his twitching mouth you noticed.

"what's with the face, sweetcheeks?" opening your mouth in offense, you swat at his arm. he flinches away, not in fear or in pain but in jesting fun before laughing at your huffing. he could see puffs of smoke with each exhale of your nostrils in his imagination. finally letting go of the bridge, his arms come to rest on his own hips, mirroring you.

"kaeya!" the way you could say his name in all sorts of tones- it all rivals his favorite songs. this one... this one was definitely agitated.

"alright, alright." he relaxes his body and crosses his arms over his chest instead of mimicking you. "what's the urgency about?" kaeya watches you speak with body your body and mouth. he's not entirely focused on what you're saying- something you'll probably scold him for- but more so focused on your whole presence.

"kaeya," you hiss and he blinks before leaning his hip against the side of the sturdy stone. this tone was a warning- a light one. his eyebrows lift before he shuts his eye and nods like he is agreeing with whatever you had just said. "you didn't hear me, did you?" you accuse.

"mm," he tilts his head mockingly before he chuckles with a shake of his head. "not entirely."

"you're unbelievable."

"oh? complimenting me are you?"

with a huff, you take a half step closer to him and miss the quick intake of breath he does at the loss of proximity. reaching up, you shift through the thick, blue hair on the left side of his head and find his ear before pulling on it. jumping away from the wall he was leaning on, his knees instinctively bent- his hands coming up to hover over your grasp- to follow the downward direction his head was taking as you pull.

"owow-!"

"timmie came running into the city gate huffing and puffing that you coming out here and just standing in the middle of the bridge scared off his birds." you nag before releasing his ear. his hand comes up to rub the side of his head, palm cupping the small limb and his hair tangling between his knuckles in the process.

"i don't see how that's my fault," he whines. "those birds would fly away at the faintest gust of wind."

"i know that," you sigh before pinching the bridge of your nose. with your face hidden under your hand, kaeya couldn't see you well. you were still well within his bubble, but he didn't mind. leaning down, he tried to look under your hand to find your eyes again. when he's about what he guesses is eye level, your hand falls away from your face and you're smirking. "i just told timmie i'd scold you for it."

kaeya's stuck in bewilderment for a moment before he starts snickering, snickering that soon evolves into laughing that has him wrapping his arms across his gut. you stand in front of him proud at both your performance and the jolly laugh you pulled from the captain.

calming down, he witnesses you huffing in pride. your hands are on your hips again and although it's the same pose as your irritated expression from before, this version is so very different. you were like a coin of mora that had been flipped from heads to tails.

"oh!" your hands come up in front of you as one of your fists land softly into the palm of your other. "i did come to find you for something though."

"oh?" he mirrors. "curious minds want to know."

digging around in the small pouch you kept slung over your belt- a gift he got you a long time ago- you come to stand beside him. squeezing yourself between his right side and the bridge, your shoulder pushes just lightly into his arm and his body experiences a wave of warmth at the sensation. from your pouch, you provide his one good eye with two small cut-out cards.

"which one do you think klee would like more?" kaeya blinks his eye before looking at you.

"for klee?" his voice cracks lightly in confused and curiousity. "is there a reason... or?"

"no," you shake your head, "not really. getting her a little something from time to time isn't a crime though. kids need enrichment- plus it'll distract her from getting too bored for a while at least." you bring his attention back to the cards. one depicts a pryo and cryo slime stacked on top of one another. the other is a classic dodoco card. they had clearly been hand drawn and kaeaya wonders if you asked lisa for pointers. "now, help me choose."

kaeya crosses his arms again and leans in to get a better look.

"wouldn't it be a no brainer with dodoco in the running?"

"see, i thought that too. but like... isn't that too predictable?"

"sweetcheeks, she's 8."

"okay? and?"

kaeya sighs before taking the slime card from you and moving it up and away from your grasp.

"ah-! hey!"

"just go with that one. trust me, the fact you're thinking of her 'bestest friend' will absolutely thrill her." with an unoriginal sigh, you yield to his words. you gently place the winning card into your pouch again, careful not to wrinkle it. you offer your closest hand palm up towards him and kaeya just stares at it. when you don't feel anything put in your palm, you look at him expectantly.

"the other one, please."

"hmm," his arm moves to bring the card down behind his back. " no, i don't think so. i'll personally take this one as my payment."

"wha-?" your brow wrinkles at him as he pockets the slime card before you can start some sort of counter to get it back.

"my services can't always be free you know," he teases. "the unpicked option has to go to someone after all."

you let out a defeated sigh with a wave of your hand to signal he can have his way this time. flowers could've bloomed around his head at the glee of winning so easily and taking something you had made in the process.

your arm falls back to your side and suddenly your spine freezes your whole body when a weight pushes against your shoulder. twisting your neck, you feel kaeya's hair against your cheek before you see it. straightening up a little against his weight, his head wobbles where his forehead rests on your shoulder.

"kaeya?" that tone was sweet. sweet yet softly wondering what he was doing. hearing it so close to his ear sent a shiver down into his very core. his hand searches for your dangling one and he locks his pinkie with yours.

kaeya can't bring himself to hold your whole hand, but he can make himself lock your promise fingers together in this moment where it was just you and him. he lets a deep breath out of his body that feels like it came from the bottom of his feet all the way up his limbs. it was heavy.

kaeya's eye shuts softly when he feels your pinke link tighter against his a silent permission that what he's doing is okay- even if you don't understand fully. chances are you just think he's exhausted- and in a way, you're correct.

you were too sweet for your own good. god, you were so bad for his fractured conscience and heart.

kaeya has always been the type to never admit what he wants. but just this once, just with you, he can admit wholly to himself that kaeya alberich wants you so badly.

"mx. y/n!" little timmie on the bridge calls for you the next morning. "did you scold captain kaeya like you promised?" his little fists were balled in front of him like he was asking for some sort of secret information. you kneel and look playfully side to side as if looking for overlistening gossipers before waving him closer.

"just between you and me, captain kaeya was properly scolded by yours truly."

"good! he needs to be more careful!" you chuckle and while timmie runs off to feed his pigeons, you stand and feel kaeya's stare on your back before you see him, feel him grabbing onto your pinkie again and bringing your hand up into the air between you both.

"promise to take it easier on me next time, oh-harsh-scolder."

#kaeya alberich #genshin impact kaeya #kaeya x reader #kaeya fluff #kaeya x y/n #kaeya x you #kaeya blurb #kaeya scenarios #genshin impact x reader #kaeya fanfic #kaeya fic #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact scenarios #kaeya #genshin impact kaeya alberich

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pocketseizure · 4 months

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The Two Kings in Tears of the Kingdom

Tears of the Kingdom unearths the roots of Calamity Ganon in an ancient conflict between Rauru, the first king of Hyrule, and Ganondorf, a rival king who attempted to usurp him. In many ways, Rauru is characterized as a good king. He is noble, kind, and self-sacrificing, and he acts for the long-term benefit of the various groups of people living in Hyrule. In contrast to Rauru, the antagonist Ganondorf is an evil king who started a war because of his pride, ego, and greed.

Rauru and Ganondorf represent different styles of authority, both of which are grounded in Japanese fantasies of cultural identity. I’d argue that, in the end, neither king is fit to rule present-day Hyrule, which is why it’s appropriate that the game ends without any call to rebuild Hyrule Castle or the centralized government it symbolizes.

Rauru represents a golden age in Japanese culture when many arts now seen as “traditional” originated. This golden age is closely tied to Nintendo’s home city of Kyoto, which is associated with the culture of the imperial court before it moved to Tokyo in 1868. Because Tears of the Kingdom is a fantasy, the visual metaphors of Rauru’s character design are mixed, but his connection to a bygone golden age is tied to two symbols: the magatama jewels referred to as “secret stones,” and the kare-sansui dry landscape gardens of the Shrines of Light and the Temple of Time.

The “secret stones” that Rauru gives to the six sages have the distinctive comma shape of a magatama jewel, one of the three sacred symbols of Shinto. These three symbols are as follows: a mirror represents clarity of heart, a sword represents the power to protect the weak, and a jewel represents the materiality of divine blessings. These three objects also serve as the regalia of the Japanese emperor, whose role was historically to perform ritual prayers and thereby serve as a symbolic bridge between the world of humans and the world of gods.

There is nothing sacrosanct about magatama jewels; at various street fairs and tourist areas throughout Japan, you can buy inexpensive polished quartz and jade magatama to attach to phone charms or friendship bracelets. As a result of its relative ubiquity, this particular shape of gem has both a historical and a pop culture association with being a magical stone bestowed by the gods on special and worthy individuals such as, most famously, the first Japanese emperor.

Along with his magatama “secret stones,” Rauru is associated with kare-sansui dry landscape gardens of the old imperial capital. Note, for instance, the front courtyard of the Temple of Time that Link visits at the beginning of the game:

The visual motif of raked white gravel punctuated by standing rocks also appears in various permutations within the Shrines of Light established by Rauru and Sonia. To give an example, this is what the player will see if they circle back behind the entrance of the “Rauru’s Blessing” shrines:

This style of dry landscape garden is frequently referred to as a “Zen garden” because of its association with large Buddhist temples in and around Kyoto. The most famous example of this style can be found at Ryōanji, in northwest Kyoto:

The philosophy of these gardens meshes well with the philosophy behind the Zelda series, which Shigeru Miyamoto has described as his attempt to create a tsuboniwa miniature garden for the player to explore. In the same way, dry landscape gardens represent a larger landscape portrayed on a much smaller scale. The rocks in the gravel are meant to represent islands on the ocean, or perhaps mountaintops rising above the clouds. Another common interpretation of these gardens – and one especially pertinent to Tears of the Kingdom – is that the rocks are the dorsal spines of a dragon swimming through the sky.

Although dry landscape gardens have strong ties to Buddhist thought, they were primarily created by wealthy lords residing in Kyoto during the fifteenth century. This was a politically unstable era, and these lords needed to make a show of their wealth and cultural legitimacy. Unlike in China, where Chan Buddhism was largely anti-establishment, Zen Buddhism was the domain of the wealthy educated elite in Japan. Many of the rocks used in Zen-style gardens were imported from China and Korea at great expense, and lords competed to secure the services of celebrity landscape designers. Even today, the late medieval culture represented by dry landscape gardens is associated with the prestige of Japan’s former imperial capital of Kyoto.

Rauru is therefore associated with nobility and a certain air of sophistication. In the original Japanese script, he is unflaggingly polite and addresses everyone – Zelda, Ganondorf, and Link alike – with the sort of “clean” language associated with people of high social standing. To put it simply, Rauru is a perfect gentleman. He is the personification of the aristocratic virtues of the “traditional Japan” of the late fifteenth century, during which the wealthy filled the capital city with gardens while countless wars ravaged the countryside.

In contrast, Ganondorf is a personification of the warrior culture of eastern Japan, especially as it was exemplified by the warlords who competed for territory outside the capital before the establishment of the Tokugawa shogunate at the beginning of the seventeenth century.

Oda Nobunaga was the most notorious of these warlords. He was infamous for being aggressive but effective, and his military prowess and ruthless tactics have been memorialized in a wealth of stories whose lineage stretches to the video games of the present day. I believe that Nobunaga (or, at least, a commonly fictionalized version of him) served as a model for Ganondorf, who seeks to take advantage of the instability of the newly established kingdom of Hyrule in order to expand his own territory.

Like Rauru, Ganondorf’s character design contains mixed visual metaphors, but I think it’s fair to say that his topknot and costume are meant to evoke a samurai who has thrown off the kimono sleeve covering his sword arm as an indication of his readiness for battle. This is a style still worn by practitioners of Japanese fencing and archery, which are common extracurricular activities in many high schools. Appropriately, Ganondorf fights with a tachi katana, a naginata spear, and the body-length longbow used in kyūdō archery – all weapons associated with the martial arts of Japan’s medieval military elite.

As if to cement his connection to Nobunaga, Ganondorf speaks in period-drama “samurai Japanese” that demonstrates neither the elegance nor the poetry of his incarnations in previous games. He seems to lack both regret and awareness of the consequences of his actions, and he is concerned primarily with hierarchy, conquest, and the thrill of battle.

As was arguably the case for Nobunaga himself, there is no endgame for Ganondorf, only scorched earth. Ganondorf has absolute faith in his own power, and he views other people only as subordinates or enemies. According to his value system, there is no merit in compromise; he simply takes it for granted that he will win.

It makes sense that the aggressively bloodthirsty Ganondorf is a villain, but it’s important to understand that Rauru is not a hero. With all his magic and culture and imperial splendor, Rauru failed to understand that the system of power he created could easily be turned against him. A nation politically defined by a central authority whose rule is justified through military conquest and the cultural chauvinism of “ancient tradition” is not sustainable, and the legacy of such a kingdom can only be tears.

This is why Hyrule Castle remains in ruins at the end of Tears of the Kingdom, and this is why the game’s central hub is a research station populated with people from all over the world. This is why Zelda doesn’t attempt to re-establish Hyrule as a kingdom, and this is why it’s so important to her to understand the reality behind the myth of the nation’s history. This is also why the grand mythology of Hyrule’s origin is far less important to the player’s experience of the game than individual acts of community building. The highlights of Tears of the Kingdom are Link’s work in facilitating a local election in Hateno, helping Lurelin recover from a disaster, and volunteering in towns facing environmental issues such as water pollution and climate change.

Both Rauru and Ganondorf are compelling in their own ways, but it’s thematically satisfying that both characters are gone at the end of the game. When Zelda meets with the regional leaders of Hyrule during the closing cutscene, they promise each other that they will work together to ensure a lasting peace that neither of the two kings made possible. The legacy of the past still affects Hyrule, but Tears of the Kingdom suggests that it’s the duty of the younger generation to understand where this legacy came from in order to avoid the mistakes of their ancestors and move forward in a more hopeful direction.

#Legend of Zelda #Tears of the Kingdom #Rauru #Ganondorf #Zelda meta #essays

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thelargefrye · 3 months

Text

NEW JEANS, NEW ME ... one - shot ( 17+ )

pairing : rowdy boy!hongjoong x powerpuff girl!idol!f!reader ; crush!idol!seonghwa x powerpuff girl!idol!f!reader ; fanboy!mingi x powerpuff girl!idol!f!reader x fanboy!san (platonic)

genre : powerpuff girls au, idol au, fluff, comedy, mention of rivals with benefits, mutual pinning

word count : 1.9k

warnings : language, powerpuff girls canon violence, jealous siblings / fighting (but add superpowers to it), sister / girl code and breaking it, talks about relationships / situationships

suffer tag : @sanjoongie

note : ALSO– new header type for this fic because i wanted to try something new!! make sure to let me know what you think about this au

playlist : POWERPUFF GIRLS UNITE

years ago you use to fight crime with your sisters. you all were known as the powerpuff girls to the city of seoul. you have since quit the life of being a superhero and instead chose the path of becoming an idol.

you were furious. you felt nothing but rage and your vision red as you stomped up the stairs and to the room that you knew your sisters would be in. more specifically where your sister haneul would be.

you threw the door open, it reared back and slammed into the wall, startling your three sisters.

"y/n? what's wrong?" julie, the youngest of the four of you, asked as she sat on the bed, flipping through a magazine.

"you fucking bitch! i can't believe you!" you say, pointing at haneul. julie lets out a shocked gasp at your language. the eldest of you all, celine, also looked shocked as she and julie watched you march up to haneul who sat at the vanity.

"you know i like seonghwa, and that i have been talking to him! what gives you the right to try and flirt with him!" you say looking at her, ready to shoot laser eyes through her if you could.

haneul only lets out a laugh before she's turning back to look at herself in the mirror. "gosh, y/n, is that why you came storming in here like a madwoman? because of the nation's boyfriend, park seonghwa?"

"why are you like, haneul?" you ask, hands on your hips as you look at her in the mirror. she seemingly ignores you for a moment, too busy putting her blush on to answer you. this causes you to let out a laugh, and she stops to raise an eyebrow at you. "i know what this is about."

"oh do you know?"

"yeah," you say walking around her, slamming your hand on the vanity and effectively slamming it in half. "you're jealous."

"me? jealous of you? why the hell would i be jealous of you?"

"come on you two, don't fight," julie tries to speak up, but you ignore her.

"because i'm more likable than you, haneul! i'm smarter, prettier, popular, and seonghwa likes me. not you," you can't help the smirk on your face as you watch haneul let out a huff and an eye roll.

"whatever," she says, shoving past you to walk to the closet. "i am not jealous of you, y/n. i'm not the one that quit the group to be a stupid pop idol," she says as she pulls out a top from the closet. more specifically your top.

"and that's my top!" you say, pointing to the pink, sequin top with the heart cut-out that was in her hands. you grimace at her manicured hands touching your things and it only makes you angrier.

"you bought this top months ago, and haven't worn it. what does it matter?"

"it matters because i bought it and don't want your bitchiness all over it," you yell, feeling your fist clench tightly and heating up ready to blast her.

"enough you two!" celine says, getting between the two of you before you could get any closer to each other. "if you both can't say anything nice, then shut up!"

"tell her not to flirt with seonghwa!" you yell, looking at celine hoping she would take your side on this. "it's totally against sister code or something!"

"y/n, i understand what you are saying, but you cannot just come in here and destroy things," she says before turning to haneul who looked bored out of her mind. "haneul, you have been acting like a total bitch lately and it's getting on my nerves. put the top back, i don't care if y/n hasn't worn it yet or not."

"ugh, whatever," haneul says tossing the top haphazardly back into the closet. "i can't believe you need celine to defend you, y/n. what? your stupid singing and dancing made you too weak to defend yourself?"

"i can handle you, don't forget whose stronger than who."

"we're not kids anymore y/n, you not as strong as you think you are anymore. and i'm sure seonghwa knows that too," she pauses, a smirk gracing her lip gloss covered lips. "maybe that's why hongjoong also wants me more than you as well? haven't you wondered why he hasn't called you back in a while?"

"what the fuck did you just say?" you couldn't believe she was now bringing hongjoong into this.

"you heard me, me and joongie have been getting to know each other quite well lately," she says and you watch her pull out her phone, flicking through it with her ugly nails before shoving the screen in your face. and sure enough there was a picture of her and hongjoong hugging, haneul was making a kissing face and hongjoong was grinning his stupid face off as they posed together.

you felt something surge through you the longer you looked at the picture. then before you could think, you snatched the phone from her and chucked it out the window. the phone smashed through the window, sending glass everywhere. julie let out a surprised scream scooting away from the flying glass as if it would actually hurt her.

"you bitch! i just got that new phone!" haneul screamed at you as she reached past celine to grab at you. celine did her best to stop your sister, but it was pointless. not like you wanted her to stop haneul anyways, it had been awhile since you fought anyone anyways.

haneul easily pushed celine away, the eldest and leader of the group stumbled a little before regaining her composure. you could see the rage in celine's eyes, like she was ready to duke it out with haneul as well.

then without another thought, you jump at haneul, your fist coming and landing a harsh punch to her face. the two of you fall to the ground and you can hear julie yelling at you both to stop. you feel haneul landing a punch to your jaw and you know your manager and makeup artist will have a stroke, but right now in this moment you don't care.

you feel someone pull you off of haneul and your sister uses this moment to bring her leg up and kick you. thanks to her super strength – that all four of you have by the way – she sends you flying across the room and through the wall. you are sent outside of the house, rubble flying all around you as you regain your self. hovering in the air, you glare at your sister who stands at the hole in your house before she's now hovering in the sky as well.

then without a second thought the two of you are flying at each other, throwing punches and laser beams at each other. at one point, you grab haneul by her top before throwing her across the city, watching as she zooms further and further away from you. but you quickly fly after her in order to continue your assault on her once she crashes into either the ground or a building. whichever one, you didn't care as long as it hurt.

you easily glide between buildings before you see haneul laying in one of the city intersections. she lets out a groan before she's standing back up, a glare on her face as she looks up at you before jumping back up into the sky.

"wow, i can't believe how low you've become," she says with a smirk on her bruised face. "to come fight your sister over some guys!"

"says you, hannie! you're the one that's desperate to go after boys that i like and you know like me back," you throw back at her. she scowls at you before shooting towards you; however, before the two of you could continue your fight a figure appears in between the two of you.

"fuck off, hongjoong," you say immediately recognizing the figure in front of you. the former villain turned hero lets out a laugh as he turns to look at you. "this doesn't concern you."

"doesn't concern me? pretty girl, i think it does when it comes to destroying the city," he says turning fully to look at you.

"whatever," both you and haneul say in unison with a huff and it reminds you in that moment how you are both sisters. haneul doesn't say anything else before she's flying away, zooming past both you and hongjoong and leaving the two of you alone.

"hey, y/n–

"i gotta go, hongjoong, see ya later," you say, cutting him off, remembering the picture your sister had shown you and her and hongjoong together. you quickly fly in the opposite direction that your sister flew in and now leaving hongjoong by himself.

"well what the hell did i do?" he asks himself.

"and she tried to wear my fucking top!" you say, throwing your hands in as you wrap a bandage around your arm. mingi and san look at you with wide eyes, shocked at the story you had told them.

you had arrived at the two's apartment after your fight with haneul which was now trending on multiple platforms and gossip pages.

you had effectively plopped yourself down on their couch, mingi was the one to run and grab a first-aid kit before sitting next to you. you let out a huff as you began treating your injuries.

"like she broke major sister code, who does she think she is, huh? and stupid hongjoong!"

"rowdy boys' hongjoong?" san says a little surprised that you are bringing the hero up. how did hongjoong fit into this when he thought haneul was trying to steal seonghwa away from you.

"yes, that stupid bastard! we've had an agreement for a while now, and he should know my sister is off limits!" you say, throwing your head back against the couch. your head rests against the back as you look up at the ceiling. their ceiling fan on and humming annoyingly in your ears. you honestly felt like shooting it from the ceiling, but refrained yourself. you couldn't go damaging their apartment when they're nice enough to let you crash here.

you remember when you first met the two males. both of them having been fans for years and it was only when mingi risked his life to help you, that you wanted to know them both to repay the favor. which is how they ended up becoming your best friends and also letting you bum off them when you were too mad at your sisters – mainly haneul – to return home.

"are you saying there's something going on between you and hongjoong?" san asks and you turn to look at him, deadpanned and tired expression.

"its a situationship," you begin to say, "we have this kind of benefits relationship. i go to him to blow off steam and he comes to me for the same thing."

"whoa, who would have thought," mingi said, completely shocked by the news that you just told him. "so what's up with him and haneul?"

"the fuck if i know!" you say, standing up and throwing your arms in the air. "i'm honestly so fucking mad at haneul, i can't even see straight. i need to go lay down, can i stay here tonight?"

"uh, sure," mingi and san say in unison and you thank them before trudging off to their spare bedroom. you close the door behind you before collapsing on the bed, not even bothering to pull the blanket over you.

you let out a sigh before you close your eyes and allow sleep to consume you, knowing you will have to face the consequences of your actions later.

but first a nap.

tag list : @frankenstein852 @watamotee33 @kawennote09 @mixling-blog @marahleiwhen @kpopnightingale @harry-the-pottypus @pyeonghongrie @sanniesbum @marvelahsobx @khjcoo @mysticfire0435 @exfolitae @dementedaly @simeonswhore @moonm1st @nvmbheart @spooo00oky @frgogh @sookacc @seongwin @burnsmepls @ad0rechuu @tunaasan @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @cheesekimchi @confusedmoonchild777 @mjyungi @innieontop @iweirdthingsblog @s0obinluvr @worcesheshestershiresauce @moonlightgrleric @wineyoungie @jeongwangjessmina @lemineso

network : @cultofdionysusnet @cromernet

#cultofdionysusnet #cromernet #kdiarynet #ateez x reader #ateez blurbs #ateez imagines #ateez hongjoong x reader #ateez seonghwa x reader #ateez mingi x reader #ateez san x reader #ateez fluff #ateez humor #ateez superhero au

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klaustozier · 1 year

Text

suckerpunch ; chishiya

SUMMARY: you and chishiya are the leaders of the two rival gangs that control the city, but, one night, when you see chishiya being unfairly harmed, you save him.

this is smut, be aware of what you read!

warnings: chishiya x fem!reader, you're a fucking badass, chishiya's older than you, enemies to fuck buddies, this was a request so here it is (i hope that what i did is okay to the person that asked for a hate fuck, cause i wanted to be a little more rough), drugs (only weed), degradation kink, chishiya has tattoos, choking, spanking

word count: 4,4k

english is not my first language, i'm sorry for any mistakes.

i hope you like it.

Maybe you shouldn't be doing this, but there was no other option. You weren't going to leave him in the hospital, he was going to put him in jail and there was a certain balance in the city with the two gangs and you knew it, it wasn't worth destroying everything over a shitty new gang.

You and Chishiya were the leaders of the gangs that dominated the city's traffic and the two gangs left the city balanced, running normally and it was like that for so many years that it was already part of everyday life, but a third gang had begun to want to take over the city. You were trying to find them to destroy them, but you didn't have much information yet.

That night you were going to a convenience store to get some food when you saw three guys punching and kicking a fourth guy on the floor of an empty parking lot, you thought the fight was unfair and decided you were going to stop it, it got even more personal when you saw who it was the blonde guy on the floor, his face all bruised and bloody from the blows he had taken. You weren't going to let a random gang kill the enemy that was yours even more so in a fight like that.

So you killed the three of them and took Chishiya to your car. He wasn't easy to carry him, but you did it. You wouldn't share your city with people who enjoyed that kind of unfair fighting.

When you noticed you were sitting Chishiya on top of your toilet, inside your bathroom, inside your studio apartment. If there was no way to get Chishiya to a hospital and you didn't know how to contact his gang to get their leader, then you had to take care of him.

“Chishiya?”, you called softly, lightly slapping his face, who woke up startled, ready to punch whoever called him, but you wrapped your hand around his fist, “Calm down, calm down, I won't hurt you .”

Shuntaro's eyes widened and he looked around, "What do you think you're doing?"

“Can you calm down?”, you asked, letting go of his hand, opening the mirror cabinet over the sink to Chishiya’s left and taking out a heavy-duty first-aid kit you had (heavy-duty as it had a needle and thread to sew up wounds, if needed).

“Where am I?”

“Okay, let's go”, you placed the first-aid kit over the sink and opened it taking cotton, alcohol, gauze and plaster from inside and placed them on the sink, doing it while explaining: “I was going to buy…”, and you decided not to say what you were going to specify what you were doing, he didn't deserve to know, “something when I saw three people hitting one in an empty parking lot. I thought the fight was very unfair, it was three against one, the person on the ground was already unconscious and I considered stopping the fight, until I saw that you were the one on the ground and decided that I was definitely going to stop the fight.”

Chishiya listened in silence and watched as you soaked a cotton ball in alcohol, “But why did you save me? You could have let me die.”

You laughed, stood in front of the other and pulled his face up by the chin, still smirking, "If there's anyone in this town who's going to kill you, it's going to be me."

Chishiya's eyes widened a little. That statement was supposed to sound threatening, and it did, so why did he feel his stomach turn over and not with fear? His concluding thoughts were cut short when the alcohol swab touched his cut lip making him shift and move away from the swab.

“No, no, no”, you said holding him by the back of the head, “I'm going to have to clean these wounds so swallow your crying.”

Chishiya should have been offended, but once again his body reacted differently, maybe he hit his head or got hit too hard. What he didn't think about was how strange and different that was, they never had that dynamic, they had already met and talked several times, but it was a strange situation. They had never touched each other before. It felt like where your fingers touched him it burned his body.

You didn't feel different, being silent with the other and taking care of him was strange and you liked it. What your shouldn't, you were just taking care of the enemy that way so you could personally kill him in the future.

“Take off your shirt”, you asked.

Chishiya frowned at you, “Not even a wine? Not even a little vodka just to cheer me up?”

You rolled your eyes and laughed, "Fuck you, just take your fucking shirt off."

“So violent… Jesus, you sound like a criminal… like a gang member.”

“Shut up, Shuntaro, just do what I say.”

Chishiya laughed and pulled his shirt up, his torso hurted a little doing that, but it could be worse. There were some shallow cuts on his chest, that was where the blood on his shirt came from, but luckily nothing that needed sewing up. You just kept cleaning up, not wanting to pay too much attention to the bruised and tattooed chest.

“How did they get to you like that? Alone?”, you asked, trying not to pay attention to his body, it wasn't the moment to be attracted to Chishiya.

“I have a suspicion that someone from my gang told them where I was going”, Chishiya sucked in air between his teeth as alcohol fell into his chest wounds, “I didn't like one of them anyway, now I'm sure that he must have been in on it."

“And why did you let him join the gang if you didn’t like him?”

“He was already in the gang when I became a leader”, he explained, his face contorting as you cleaned his wounds.

“And how do you intend to take care of it? It is not good to have a snitch in the group.”

“First, I'm going to try to see if it really is him”, began the seated man and once again sucked in air between his teeth, “Maybe I should pretend to go somewhere alone and see if they show up again, so I can do some kind of ambush and destroy them all.”

“Would you like some help?”

"What? Do you want to help?"

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend, isn't it?", you shrugged, "And I don't like them, I like them less than I like you."

“Awwwn”, Chishiya placed his hand over his heart and pouted.

“Fuck off", you commanded laughing softly, “And they're messing with my business too, it doesn't hurt to get together and end this little game, there's already two people running the town and that's enough.”

"We can join forces then, princess", Chishiya nodded, "But it will be for a very short time, we'll settle that and each one will go to their corner."

“Deal, Shuntaro.”

You offered your hand and Chishiya shook it briefly, sealing the deal. After that, you continued to clean his wounds and soon started bandaging all the cuts. Silence reigned, the two thinking about many things that did not involve rivalry or what happened. They both thought the same thing, in fact, how attractive the other was. Perhaps all the adrenaline had them a little out of their minds.

“Are you going to put gauze on my wounds and choke me to death?”, asked Chishiya, breaking the silence, making you laugh.

“Not today”, you replied smiling, “You're hurt, it wouldn't be fair. If I ever plan to kill you, it will be a fair fight, with both of you well rested and fed, no firearms, just bladed weapons and our fists and whoever dies, dies.”

The blonde nodded, "And in that case, it's going to be me the one who dies, right?"

You leaned towards his face, getting dangerously close and smirked, "Of course."

“What makes you so sure you'd win, kitten?”, Chishiya challenged, the twinkle in his eyes was making you extremely tempted.

“I'm clearly faster”, you said, smiling.

Chishiya laughed wryly, and quickly fell silent as you took the scissors from the firs-aid kit and pressed the sharp tip against the blonde's Adam's apple, who swallowed hard.

Chishiya's strong, beautiful hand wrapped around your wrist and pushed it away from his neck, "And I'm stronger", he said, you forced your hand back into place, but the older one was stronger anyway, even if he wasn't the best conditions to fight.

You tried to attack using your other hand, but your wrist was also grabbed and Chishiya joined both of his hands and held it using only one of your hands.

“Do you want to keep playing, princess?”, teased the oldest.

You laughed wryly, tried to move your wrists and were unsuccessful, "You're still going to get fuck for crossing my path, Chishiya."

“I honestly think you're the one who's going to get fucked over this, baby girl.”

And the two faced each other. Hearts racing, that kind of talk was releasing too much adrenaline to make them think straight. Your eyes dropped to Chishiya's pretty lips, who mimicked the movement, it wasn't something easy to resist. Neither of them noticed exactly when this had happened, but in a moment one advanced towards the other and they began to kiss.

There was so much anger in that kiss. Chishiya would sometimes let out low whimper of pain, because his still delicate cut lip was being crushed by your lips. Even though you didn't want to admit it, those whimpers were making you so fucking horny. Maybe they shouldn't do anything since Chishiya was hurt, but you were leaving it up to him to say he wanted to stop.

Chishiya finally released his grip and grabbed your thighs pulling you onto his lap and pinned you against the cold tile wall.

“You are so light”, mocked the older one.

“Shut up, motherfucker”, you said, rolling your eyes.

“Wow, you sound like a criminal”, mocked the other again.

You rolled your eyes, "Are you going to do something or are you going to hold me here on the wall and get degraded?"

"There should be fetishes just for that."

“Do you have a fetish with that by any chance?”

The blonde chuckled and clasped your thighs in his hands, “No… not like this anyway…”

Chishiya came out of the bathroom with you in his arms and walked to your bed, where he threw you on the mattress and got on top of you. When he went to try to kiss you again, you grabbed him with your legs and arms and spun you around on the bed, getting on top.

“Are you as strong as you think, Chishiya?”, you teased.

The blonde laughed and leaned on his right elbow while his left hand went to the back of your neck pulling you closer, "Yes, I am", he informed, returning to kiss you.

The hand on the back of your neck that caressed your hair slid to your throat and wrapped it gently at first, wanting to know if it was okay to do what he wanted to do. As there wasn't any kind of displeasure shown, he gently squeezed the sides of your neck, receiving a soft sigh in return.

Chishiya parted their lips and watched the scene for a little while. You took your hand to the other's wrist and held on to it as if you needed help to hold yourself together. Your face was contorted adorably and your lips pretty, red and glossy. Chishiya was so hot with the cuts and bruises, he was already beautiful, but this was another level of attractiveness.

Your hips slowly rocked against Shuntaro's hips, "Kiss me", you ordered through gritted teeth.

“How do you say?”, teased Chishiya, grinning.

“Now, you fucking piece of shit.”

Chishiya laughed and just accepted, how could he say no to that cutie? He let go of your neck, he had choked you enough (for now), the action made you whimper softly, "How cute."

“Shut up, Chishiya", you ordered angrily.

“Make me”, he teased once again.

“I still will punch you until you pass out…”

The older one laughed and the kiss resumed. Chishiya's hand was still on your neck, without squeezing, just caressing the skin with his thumb, it went down your chest, squeezing your breasts.

"Cute", Chishiya said when you moaned as your nipples were pinched over your shirt.

"Fuck you."

"You should be ashamed of yourself for rubbing that pussy on my lap and acting like you're better than me."

"Ah… but I am…"

The blonde smirked, "Fucking bitch."

Your shirt was taken off and Chishiya started sucking your nipples gently, not doing too much, not doing everything you wanted. He was doing it on purpose, he wanted to piss you off and he was succeeding. You wanted more, you wanted to be pinched and squeezed, but nothing came, making you groan.

“I hate you so much", you complained.

“Why?”, Chishiya was a bastard.

“I have little patience.”

The older one chuckled, "Then feel free to take control, baby girl."

You rolled your eyes and pushed him onto the bed. You leaned over to the night stand and picked up a joint and lighter from the top of it, putting the blunt in your mouth.

"Are you really going to smoke? Marijuana? With me here under you?", complained Chishiya pretending to be angry, "I'm going to call the police."

"Don't you ever shut up?", you asked, lighting your cigarette.

Chishiya laughed, he was enjoying making you angry, it was so funny. The fun ended when you sat on the other's legs and started to smoke, it wasn't fun anymore it was just hot.

"Do you want some?", you asked, showing the joint in your hands, noticing that he was very entertained watching you smoke.

Chishiya nodded, you took the joint to your lips again and smoked it taking your hand to his chin, he parted his lips waiting for what you would do. You blew the smoke to the blonde's lips and kissed him, brushing your tongue gently against his.

If it was up to Shuntaro, they would do that for hours. You repeated your act a few more times, smoking and sharing it with the older one with kisses.

"Fuck", cursed Chishiya softly making you laugh.

You returned the two objects to the bedside table and adjusted yourself, hugging Chishiya's neck, kissing him again, the kiss was less nervous now, but that didn't stop you from scratching the other's chest with your nails, being careful not to scratching at the cutted areas, making him moan softly as they kissed.

With a peck, you broke the kiss and pushed the blonde's body back onto the bed, running kisses down his chest, biting the skin from time to time, always being careful with the cuts, but always licking the bruises, because you loved to hear his adorable whimpers. With Chishiya's skin between your teeth, you proceeded to unfasten his belt, making him sigh in anticipation.

"I like you like this… quiet", you commented, licking where you had bitten, eliciting a low whine from him, "It suits you, Shuntaro."

"Fuck…", was the only thing he managed to say when your hand tightened on his cock over his pants.

"How cute", you smiled, "Is your cock so hard because of your enemy, Chishiya?", you laughed at the snort the older one let out, squeezing his still covered cock, "How do you explain that to your friends?"

"Go fuck yourself."

You adjusted yourself over Chishiya's body and took off his jeans, leaving him only in black underwear. Your beautiful lips wrapped around the man's cock over the cloth and licked, eliciting a breathless groan from him.

"Fucking shit", Chishiya cursed, throwing his head back, shuddering when the hot mouth wrapped around the head of his cock covered by the cloth, "Baby girl… don't do that…", he asked softly, looking down at you who was staring at him from under you lashes. Chishiya had dark eyes, the unreadable expression and the bruises on his face, it was all so sensual. Your tongue flattened against his cock, saliva marked the cloth leaving it glistening against the light, pre-cum also marked the tip, "Shit. You have to… you have…", he couldn't talk with you licking him like that, you could feel his blood boil as you felt the pulse against your tongue, so hard and fast.

"If I give you a proper blowjob, will you shut the fuck up?", you asked with an expression of boredom.

"I do not promise anything."

And Chishiya laughed when you rolled your eyes. You could complain, but you were too horny to be against what was going on, so you just removed Shuntaro's underwear and slid your hands down his thighs, his hard cock pulsing gently against his beautiful abdomen. You lay back down, taking his cock in your hands, making him sigh.

You licked the length of the thick cock and moaned softly feeling the pulse directly against your tongue. Chishiya purred and laid his head on the pillows, bringing his hand to your hair, stroking and squeezing the strands tightly as his cock sank completely into your mouth.

Your head began to slowly rise and fall, the rhythm gradually increasing as the other's moans became more desperate.

"Fuck, kitten", moaned Chishiya, he called you that to annoy you, but now it was exciting and you hated it.

One of his hands was in your hair, tightening the strands in his fists, and the other held his cock, helping you to swallow it.

The moan that came out of Chishiya's lips made your eyes roll back in pure pleasure. You moved your head up and down, he could feel saliva sliding down his cock to his thighs. He moaned louder as your delicate hands caressed his balls.

"Shit", growled Chishiya softly, stopping your movements, panting heavily, "Lie down on the bed now… go, come on", he ordered impatiently.

You did as asked, laying down on the bed. Chishiya got on top of you and lay down between your legs, "I should just fuck your pussy and leave, but I can't resist a pretty little pussy like that, all wet and just for me."

And Chishiya began to undress you quickly and began to suck you off, making you moan loudly, making you squirm. The fucker knew what he was doing, he seemed to know how your body worked, he licked just the right place and made the biggest mess, his mouth completely covered with your pleasure.

"Shut the fuck up", Chishiya swore, "The whole building will know you're being eaten."

"Shhh", you silenced, grabbing his long blonde hair and forcing him to go back to licking you, "use your mouth for something worthwhile."

Chishiya laughed, "Slut", his strong hand covered your mouth with ease, "I should gag you, but look how beautiful you look with my hand like that…", his other free hand went to your neck and caressed it gently, fingers enveloped in skin, "So pretty at my mercy, you should think about being like this more often."

"Shut the fuck up", you commanded in a voice muffled by the big hand on your mouth.

Chishiya laughed, taking his hand away from your mouth, "Unbearable bitch", he whispered.

The blonde tightened your neck and went back to eating you out, he thought it would be better to choke you than cover your mouth for now, it made your moans more sly and he liked that.

“Chishiya", you whimpered, rolling your hips, not really wanting to sound that desperate.

And that drew a wry chuckle from him, "Moaning like that? Because of the enemy, princess? What are you going to tell your friends?"

“Shh”, you hushed again, your hands going to the blonde hair and you forced it down once more.

Chishiya laughed and accepted, he ran his tongue up and down the wet pussy, sucking the clit and sank his skillful fingers inside you, loosening you. You moaned softly, your fingers caressed his hair gently, it wasn't your intention, but it felt so good that you thought Shuntaro deserved a reward. The older man's hand didn't stop its back and forth movements, opening you for him.

Chishiya pulled away, brought his thumb to your clit and stroked in circular motions, “I need to fuck you.”

"Please."

It was the first time that had been said that night and it was said so delicately.

Wasting no time, Chishiya grabbed you around the waist and flipped you over on the bed, lifting your hips, leaving you completely exposed for his own benefit.

"What a nice little pussy", said the blonde, observing your wet pussy, spreading your lips with his fingers, "It's already all loose."

“Don't you shut up-”, your sentence was cut off when he spanked your ass.

“What were you going to say, kitten?”, asked the older one ironically, giving you another slap.

You whimpered, “Just fuck me, Shuntaro.”

“Of course, all for you, my sweetie.”

“If I wasn't so horny, I swear I would-”, and a long moan left your lips as Chishiya thrust his cock inside you hard, without giving you time to adjust.

"You swear what, baby?", he asked, his face leaning over your.

"I swear I'd kill you right now, Shuntaro", you stated clutching the sheets as your pussy was fucked mercilessly.

"I think it's funny that you think you could kill me", Chishiya whispered, biting your earlobe.

Chishiya held your waist, thrusting hard, but the pace was still too slow for your liking, "Faster, you motherfucker."

"Of course…"

And he obeyed such a crude request, starting to speed up his movements. Your moans started to get louder and louder, you were too lost in your own pleasure to control yourself.

It wasn't so loud that it would disturb the neighbors in the apartments next door, but Chishiya still chuckled softly and put his hand over your mouth.

"You'll wake up the whole building like that", he warned softly, continuing to thrust.

You just whimpered and grabbed the sheets as you were harshly fucked. Chishiya's hand gripped your hip tightly, squeezing the skin in his fingers, you were sure it would get purple.

"You're so hot", growled the man softly, his lips close to your ear, you shivered with those words, "I think that me talking doesn't bother you anymore, huh?", his hand on your waist slid down your skin down to your ass and squeezed the flesh.

"I'm still going to destroy your entire gang and take care of the entire city by myself", you stated.

"Do you think you can do it, baby girl?"

"I already do that, only you pretend to do something and get in my way."

He straightened his posture and took both of your hands, bringing them behind your back, squeezing your wrists into one hand to keep them there. His free hand went back to squeezing your ass and began to slap the skin.

Neither of them had any sense of time anymore, at that moment, they only knew that they were very close to an orgasm and that they hated each other so fucking much.

“Chishiya”, you purred, “I'm going to cum…”

“Me too", Chishiya stated.

“I- AH!”, you were going to say something, however Chishiya's hand that remained resting on your ass, which was already hot and red with the countless spankings, went down to your pussy and started to masturbate you quickly.

You twisted your arms trying to free yourself, but the blonde man was much stronger than you. It didn't take long for a ragged moan to leave your lips and you came on Chishiya's cock.

The older one chuckled softly and pulled out of you, letting go of your wrists. Shuntaro sat on his legs and jerked off briefly, his free hand gripping your ass, squeezing hard as he reached his climax watching his cum fall over the red skin. When he finally came, he lay down beside you and sighed softly.

“You're not going to sleep here”, you said, making the other open his eyes wide.

Chishiya groaned and got up, "I'm not going to sleep in this shitty place", he informed you as he sat down.

You laughed, "If you say so, I could have sworn I saw you dreaming, and dreaming of me still."

“God have mercy on you", he said as he searched for his clothes, “I'm still going to break both your legs.”

“Why don’t you break it now?”

“Because I got beat up and I just came”, the comment made you laugh putting your hand under your head to support it and be able to observe the other, “I'm not in full mental faculties.”

“If you say so", you said as the other dressed, “I guess I'll have to find a new place to live.”

"I would never attack you in your home, but if it makes you feel safe, it's not a bad idea."

“Do you think it would be viable for us to unite?”, you asked, sitting on the bed after a while of silence, Chishiya crossed his arms, “This third gang can't keep thinking we're accepting their presence.”

“If you're willing, I am too”, the blonde was sincere, “It's better to unite against a common enemy, but that's all it will be, after we get what we want, it's each one to one side, correct, kitten?”

“I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise, Shuntaro.”

“Do you have any plans in mind?”

“I have, I can tell it to you later. Could you give me your phone number?”, you asked.

The eldest smirked, “Are you in love now, kitten?”, you rolled your eyes, “Do you want to send nudes on my personal phone?”

"You don't give a minute of peace, how can you compete with me?", you questioned, rubbing your forehead, "It's so we can talk, fucking piece of shit."

"Oh, yes, of course."

You groaned and threw your phone at Chishiya for him to add his contact, and when he were done, he threw the phone back to you, "Fuck you from the bottom of my heart, Chishiya, see you in hell."

“I’ll wait for you there, princess.”

And with that said, Chishiya unlocked the door and left. Leaving you alone and naked in your bed.

...

i hope you liked it!

please live a like and a comment!

tags: @just-trashs @alisujelly

if you have any requests, make sure to talk to me

see ya next time.

(´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

♡masterlist♡

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mangocustard16 · 6 months

Text

A Shower of Love☔💕

| synopsis: You forgot your umbrella while going to work so your dear boyfriend came to deliver it to you.

| pairing: bf!mingyu x gn!reader

| genre: fluff

| warnings: none

| w.c: 630

| a/n: this is pure fluff, mingyu is Y/N's knight in shining armor.

The day had begun like any other. You were rushing out the door, leaving a quick peck on Mingyu's cheek, and a hurried goodbye as you hurried off to work. The sun was shining, and the forecast predicted clear skies. No umbrella seemed necessary. That was until, all of a sudden, the heavens opened up, and the sky poured down its liquid affection upon the city.

You stood at the entrance of your workplace, cursing your luck for leaving your umbrella at home. With a sigh, you pulled out your phone and sent a text to Mingyu, your ever-reliable boyfriend.

Y/N: "Babe, I forgot my umbrella at home, and it's pouring. Can you bring it to me?"

Mingyu's response came swiftly.

Mingyu: "Of course, love. I'll be there soon."

As you waited, you watched the raindrops dance on the pavement, creating a beautiful mosaic of reflections. The cityscape seemed to soften in the rain, and the world around you became a serene painting of wet streets and glistening buildings. The world seemed to hush, and the city's relentless pace took a temporary pause.

Then, there he was, your knight in shining armor, Mingyu, approaching through the rain-soaked streets. With a smile that rivaled the sun itself, he held your umbrella while getting drenched.

Mingyu looked into your eyes with a playful glint. Instead of opening the umbrella, he closed it and set it aside. He had a different plan in mind. You looked at him, your eyes questioning.

"Why don't we forget about the umbrella and just dance in the rain?" he suggested. You couldn't resist his invitation, and took his hand with a smile.

Together, you stepped out into the rain, feeling the cool drops soak through your clothes. The city transformed into a tranquil harbor, as Mingyu and you began to sway to the natural rhythm of the downpour.

The rain poured down on you, but it didn't matter. You just wanted to be together in that moment. The rain connected you, washing away the stress and endowing you with each other. As you danced together, creating a magical moment that no umbrella could contain.

The raindrops seemed to sing a sweet serenade as you kissed. The buildings shimmered in the rain's embrace, as your faces gleaming with countless water droplets that clung to every surface. The streets became your dance floor, and the rhythm of the rain was the tune that accompanied your impromptu waltz.

Mingyu pulled you close, and you rested your head on his chest, listening to the calming rhythm of his heartbeat. In this tender, rain-soaked moment, your connection deepened, and the world around you faded into the background.

You smiled at Mingyu as you felt the love so strongly that you couldn't help but express it out loud.

"I love you, Mingyu," you said. Your words were filled with sweetness and joy.

Mingyu smiled, his heart filled with love as he looked at you. Your words were music to his ears.

"Y/N," he said, "I love you too, forever."

With the rain as their witness, they shared a passionate kiss that spoke volumes of their love, sealing their promise amidst the watery embrace of the city that had seen their love story unfold.

The city continued to be drenched in the loving rain, mirroring the overflowing love between Y/N and Mingyu as they danced together in the storm. The scenery of their lives was forever changed by the beauty of the unexpected, the kind of beauty that only love, spontaneity and a rainstorm could create.

The city streets were their stage, and they were the stars of this romantic performance. They danced their way through the storm, two souls deeply in love, cherishing every moment, every raindrop, and every smile shared between them.

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itsabouttimex2 · 4 months

Note

Hi hope it’s not to late to request yandere demon bull family , with reader having a crush on MK please 🙏

Bullfam reacts to dating MK

(Alternate Scenario)

Red Son’s reaction closely mirrors MK’s in the Monkiefam scenario, just far more severe and less quick to open up to the idea of his little sibling dating.

As the seasons go on, he’s more and more likely to grudgingly accept your relationship with the filthy, awful, empty-brained, plan-wrecking, noodle-making peasant. By season four, he’ll have a severely vitriolic view of your relationship, but will very unhappily accept that MK not only makes you happy, but also keeps you safe.

In season one? He explodes into a blind rage and temporarily switches his plans from taking over the city/world to outright killing his rival.

You sigh as you step into your room, where your brother is, but has no right to be, in your personal opinion. You feel more of a mild annoyance at him going through your things than anything else, though. He does this regularly, giving his reasons as “keeping you out of trouble” and “making sure you aren’t up to anything”.

Today is the first day after years of relentless searching that he finds something.

Red Son’s hand trembles with an emotion you can’t quite place, holding an item you can’t quite see. You peek closer, shifting to look around his shoulder.

It’s your phone, with your messages open.

And he’s looking through the chats you’ve had with MK.

“Y/N! EXPLAIN YOURSELF RIGHT NOW, YOU- YOU- YOU ABSOLUTE BUFFOON! HOW DARE YOU?! RUNNING AROUND WITH THE DEMON BULL FAMILY’S GREATEST ENEMY?! DO WE MEAN NOTHING TO YOU?! DO YOU NOT LOVE US? DO YOU LOVE HIM MORE THAN US?!”

He throws your phone to the ground, crushing it with a flaming foot. Then that fire begins to spread.

Flames gush freely from his hands, his eyes, his hair, all setting him alight in a brutal display of the power he wields. The fire he spews grows hotter and brighter until almost all of his body is consumed by an eye-searing light. You’re forced to turn your head and cover your eyes. There’s nothing you can do to stop him right now, and you certainly can’t go running to your parents, either.

Even if they did decide to step in and force him to stand down, it would mean revealing to them your relationship with the first and foremost obstacle to their plans and schemes. They might even go so far as to fan his fury, encouraging him as he sets off on a one-man warpath towards Megapolis, and with it, MK.

The best and safest option here is to bite the bullet and desperately apologize and start to beg for him to calm down. Tell him that you’re sorry for keeping secrets, for getting into a relationship without his knowledge or consent, for sneaking around with his rival. Tell him you’ll call the whole thing off and break up with MK if he just calms down and stops burning things, if he promises not to hurt anybody. If you cry and tremble as you make promise after promise, there’s a better chance it’ll work.

And though your pleading does slowly get through to Red Son, his anger is only ever so slightly mitigated. Shaking so fiercely that he threatens to combust once more, he grips your shoulder with just enough strength to leave a bruise and throws you into your closet, locking it behind you before stomping off to speak with his parents about what you’ve been doing.

You’re left alone, sniffling and shaking in the dark, sitting with your legs against your chest in the enclosed space.

Things are bad, already. And then you hear soft footsteps, and you know they’re about to get worse.

Thankfully for you, your mother comes to see you before your father does.

Princess Iron Fan is the calmest and most reasonable of the three, with iron-lined nerves and a perpetually composed demeanor. You’re lucky, really. If it had been your brother again, or; god forbid, your father… at least her coming here gives them both a chance to cool off from the news while she tends to you.

She slowly unlocks and opens the closet, looking down at your huddled form. Whether she looks at you with pity, reproach or disappointment is impossible to distinguish by face and body language alone.

Even when she kneels down in the closet to meet you face-to-face, her emotions are utterly indistinguishable. Your heart pounds frantically, terror mounting inside you. The red-robed demon shakes her head and sighs softly at your panicked expression, opening her arms to you.

“My poor, foolish child. Come to your mother.”

Princess Iron Fan might be evil, might be married to a would-be world conquerer, might be willing to throw children around in a fight… but she adores her family above all else. So she takes pity upon seeing your tears and brings you into a hug, letting you rest your teary eyes on her shoulder.

She’s still mad, of course. But she’ll preserve her image of you being a precious and innocent treasure that she simply must protect by shifting the majority of the blame to MK, deeming him a “bad influence”. You’re still getting locked up nice and tight in the fortress, of course. You’ll be put in a room with a door that’s too heavy for you to push open, trapping you inside even without taking into account that your parents seal it with locks both iron and arcane, just to keep you extra “safe” from someone who never posed any threat to you whatsoever.

“My naive little Y/N,” she coos into your ear with sickly-sweetness, tightening her arms around you. “Was my foolish child led astray by a petty, rebellious mortal? I had thought you were readier for the world, wiser to the tricks of it’s people… but I see now that I was wrong.”

Your heart clenches at her manipulative words, her loving but sharp tongue driving stakes into your quickly diminishing self-esteem. By framing a simple desire to grow up and develop a relationship as a severe personal failing on your end, she justifies locking you away. You can’t call her a bad person if she convinced you that it’s for your own good, after all.

She truly loves you, in spite of her manipulations. Iron Fan will be the one bringing you food and fresh clothing every morning, ensuring that you stay healthy and clean even through the long duration of your imprisonment grounding.

She sets you onto your feet, brushing off your clothes before cupping your cheek with one of her hands. “Come now. Your father wants to speak to you.”

All you can do from there is drag your feet along after her, dreading the inevitable confrontation that awaits you.

She brings you to the master room of the fortress, where the Demon Bull King awaits you, scorn leering from his eyes. She pushes you into the chamber, then shuts the iron door behind you with a powerful gust of wind, trapping you once more.

With leaden feet, you slowly walk forwards, head lowered to the ground so as to not make eye contact with your furious father. Once you stand before his throne, he leans forward.

With a long, clawed finger he reaches out to you. Carefully, he hooks his powerful and sharp nail under the bottom of your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“Child,” he rumbles, his voice dangerously low and gravelly. “You have much to answer for. If I were you, I’d begin explaining… and quickly.”

Just as you did with your elder brother, and your mother soon after him, you take the most peaceful option you can, and try to placate. If it was just Red Son that was angry at you, you could run to your parents for sanctuary. If it was only Demon Bull King, you could seek out your mother and beg her to soothe his rage. Now that all of your family is enraged or upset, you have nowhere to run, no one to turn to.

“I… I’m sorry, father. I have no excuse.”

You do, actually. That excuse being that you’ve lived hundreds of years right beside them and have proven both your strength and maturity time and time again. Still, they treat you like a child and insist on hiding you away from the world and everyone within it.

“Please give me a chance to earn your forgiveness.”

You don’t want his forgiveness. You want your family to understand that you’ve grown up, enough that you have an interest in romantic relationships. You don’t want to have to fight to get them to acknowledge your feelings and desires.

Your father stares down at you with icy eyes, huffing and snarling. You know he wouldn’t truly harm you, of course. None of your family would. The mild bruise Red Son gave you just a short while ago was the worst any of them had ever hurt you , and even that was probably unintentional.

DBK leans back on his throne, unhanding your chin. Still, his eyes never leave yours, boring right through you.

“I see,” he says, his voice heavily guarded. “I see what the problem is.” The giant demon folds his arms as he rises from his throne, towering above you.

“You’ve been given too much room to roam, it seems. I have been gone for so long that you have forgotten the Bull clan’s mission.”

He raises his fist high, then swings it against the wall to sound a brutal clang that echoes through the room and causes your ears to painfully ring as you recoil.

“We are demons! We conquer, destroy, and rule! None stand in our way! We do not lower ourselves to commingle with mortals! We rise above the rabble, and crush them under our heels when they dare to resist!”

“Do you understand, Y/N?”

Swallowing the lump in your throat is painful, but you force yourself to do so anyways. If you want to soothe the anger you’ve inspired throughout your parents and brother, then you have to take the high road and play nice for your own sake.

Not only for your own sake, but for MK’s as well. Their anger is directed between the both of you, after all. Assuaging it is the easiest way to keep him safe. With that in mind, there’s only one thing you can say.

“Yes, father.”

#Platonic Yandere #Yandere Lego Monkie Kid #Yandere LMK #Yandere Red Son #Yandere Princess Iron Fan #Yandere Demon Bull King #Bullfam #Yandere Father #Yandere Mother #Yandere Brother

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babyyhoneyyyyy · 10 days

Text

⋆.˚✮ 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖌𝖎𝖗𝖑 ✮˚.⋆ - One Shot [h.s]

Storyline: After concluding a public relationship on unfavorable terms, singer Madison Moore decides to sever all ties with her boyfriend. However, a year after their separation, she crosses paths with him again at an awards ceremony, where he makes his entrance accompanied by his new girlfriend – the same one Madison once suspected of cheating on her. Nevertheless, she no longer possesses the same docile and soft personality she used to have and when she realizes her ex is attempting to approach her, she chooses to immerse herself in a casual conversation, coincidentally encountering her primary rival in the music industry, Harry Styles. Word count: +9k Smut: 🔞

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|•

Diamonds sparkle around my neck, while pearls delicately rest on my ears. A charming set of jewelry has been carefully chosen for the evening, creating a perfect combination with the black dress I selected for the red carpet.

The fabric hugs my figure precisely, displaying a dark yet radiant shade that reflects tiny glints under the light. The standout features are its pronounced V-neck and the leg slit, adding a revealing touch to the ensemble. My hair complements the look with a lace-up that falls down my back, leaving my forehead exposed.

I glance once again at the small clock showing the time through the mirror's reflection. It's nine fifteen, and there are just a few minutes left until the rest of the team arrives, and we all head to tonight's location in the van.

I close my eyes for a brief moment, letting them open again as my reflection appears before me. In another moment, the red lips might have seemed excessive, but tonight they were more than appropriate if I aimed to make an impact. A long-awaited display of recognition, only possible with suggestive clothing and a mischievous look.

I knew these tricks well; I had been using them for a few months and had become almost an expert. However, I couldn't really complain; they provided me with confidence and a sense of control, as only I knew how far to go and how much to reveal.

I hear my nickname being called by my manager, beckoning me from the other side of the door, signaling that the moment has arrived.

I let out a final sigh, giving one last glance at my reflection in the mirror, and with a small affirmative gesture, I make my way to the door. I unlock the latch and move down the hallway.

"How do I look?" I ask once I see my entire team getting ready to leave my apartment. Their gazes immediately shift to my face and gradually descend to my outfit, creating a subtle interplay between my face and figure in a silence that was beginning to feel almost unsettling.

Then, Allyson, my best friend and the person who would also accompany me to the gala, more at my request, approached me, dropping her hands onto my shoulders and holding me lightly while allowing a cheeky gaze to traverse my body once again.

"Incredibly hot," she replied with a side smile. If I didn't know her better, I would even say she was flirting with me.

"You look like a freaking superstar," Sandy, my agent, joined by my side, commented with a radiant smile that I didn't hesitate to reciprocate.

"A very sexy one," added Allyson.

"Seems like she got the memo," I responded to Sandy, throwing a glance at my friend while I simply watched their interaction with amusement.

"Time's running out. People are already asking if you'll show up, Maddy". I hear the voice of one of the technicians, prompting my manager, my best friend, and me to hurry and exit immediately.

I feel a slight tug on my arm, causing me to turn my head back. I observe Sandy, who looks at me with her typical observant and serene expression before any event, always trying to convey the same message to me.

"You're going to fuck everyone tonight". A smile escapes me due to her choice of words, as I playfully nod, and she takes my arm, finally allowing us to exit the apartment.

The noise of the city intensified as we navigated its streets. The neon signs became more prominent, and some cars honked their horns. Although I would have enjoyed observing the characteristic brightness of Hollywood, the driver's announcement that we had arrived only made my heart beat faster. The once bustling atmosphere provided by the streets was now fueled by fans waiting outside the venue.

The van's polarized windows prevented them from seeing me from the inside, but somehow, magically, some people had already started chanting my name. A smile spread across my face, feeling more confident as we headed towards the location predetermined by the team. I observed the various faces approaching the van, trying unsuccessfully to see beyond, but still shouting random names until they landed on the right one.

I checked my small bag, pulled out my mirror, and refreshed my lips with the lipstick I had specifically chosen for tonight. I took a deep breath a couple of times, practicing a breathing technique I had been taught since my early days in the industry, trying to focus on all the positive things that had happened up to that point. I was about to participate in one of the highlights of my career, not just as a guest but practically as the potential winner and the main star of the night. I was at the top, and no one could stop me.

My nod was enough for the back door to open, allowing my heel to finally touch the red carpet. The noise intensified, ringing loudly in my ears as the choruses of my name created a buzz around me. Camera flashes accompanied my descent as I tilted my head slightly to mark my steps on the pavement.

I stood in the center of the carpet, striking various poses for the photographers, keeping my face with a serene expression, and, on some occasions, with a smile. I began to move away as the pleading shouts for me to stay faded away. Allyson gently took my arm, occasionally smiling at the paparazzi still trying to get our attention as we entered the venue, followed by my team.

As we made our way through the backstage hallways, I could hear the voices of the presenters. I watched different technicians move around us, greeting me as they recognized me. Some even asked me to take a photo, a request to which I gladly agreed.

My heels lost prominence as we approached, overshadowed by the buzz of the show taking place in the main hall.

"Maddy," I hear Sandy's voice behind me, taking a moment to address me while she seems to be immersed in a phone conversation. "You should start getting ready," she informs me.

"Of course" I reply, making her nod before she returns to her phone call. I glance at my best friend, who has let go of my arm and looks at me with a pout. We both knew that her seat was reserved at the assigned table inside the hall, and I had to head to the dressing rooms to change.

"At least you'll wait for me next to Shawn Mendes" I mention, giving her a playful nudge as she regains a smile.

"You're absolutely right," she replies. A smile lights up her face, and before I can leave, she takes my hand, drawing my attention again. Ally is not known for being an especially emotional person; in fact, I used to surpass her in that aspect. However, lately, her emotions have started to emerge, which is saying a lot considering I've known her for more than half of my life. The expression she wears right now is more than enough to make my heart swell. A tenderness that adds sweetness to our friendship and makes me feel grateful for it every day.

"You're going to do wonderfully, although you already know it," she says, gently squeezing my hand. I feel the excitement rise through my body, finally manifesting in the growing moisture in my eyes. I blink a bit as I look up, preventing the tears from actually coming out. "I love you, Maddy. Good luck".

Oh, dear, I hate getting so emotional to the point of crying in these situations.

Unable to contain myself, I move closer to her, releasing our hand grip and enveloping her in an affectionate hug. Finally, I pull away and nod.

"I love you too, thank you". I reply, finally letting her go to continue her way into the hall, where the noise returns once the door leading directly to the entrance opens.

Again, the sound of my heels echoed on the floor, this time as I headed towards the path that led to the dressing rooms. As I advanced, some technicians greeted me until I reached the door with a star bearing my name. Under my hand on the lock, turning the knob as the dressing room materialized in front of me.

Immediately, I was enveloped by the scent of vanilla. Warm lights illuminated the room, matching the furniture in beige tones, including a sofa, a dressing table, and a small table with dried fruits, fresh ones, and bottles of water.

However, my attention focused on the rack beside the furniture. I approached and took off the cover that was suspended on a hook. I placed it on the chair, spreading it out as I unzipped the garment bag, finally revealing the outfit I would wear that night.

My performance would be marked by a yellow ensemble that had been tailored for me some time ago. It consisted of a ruffled top and a matching skirt, providing additional volume to my figure. Although it exposed my abdomen, allowing me the flexibility to dance and move freely on stage thanks to the small shorts I wore under the skirt.

It was a beautiful and practical outfit. It had been in my closet for a long time, and this was the perfect occasion to wear it.

I placed my belongings on the dressing table and secured the dressing room door for more privacy. Dressing was straightforward; however, removing the dress presented some difficulty. Nevertheless, I finally managed to replace it on the dress stand and hang it on the rack.

I turned towards the full-length mirror in the corner of the room, allowing my image to be seen from head to toe, highlighting the combination of yellow that enhances my skin tone and subtly adds volume.

I heard a tapping on the door, and I approached to open it, allowing Sandy's figure to enter the dressing room. I didn't stand up to show her my outfit, as she had witnessed the tailoring process from the beginning. Instead, I sit at the vanity and pull out the makeup I had brought for touch-ups, quickly changing the shade of my lipstick so I can blend in with my outfit and also to mattify my face with powder.

I felt calm until that moment, mentally reviewing the choreographies I would perform. However, when my nickname came out of my manager's lips, I immediately looked at her. I knew Sandy long enough, from my beginnings in this industry, and I could already discern precisely when something was not right.

"What happened?" I immediately ask, although silence persists from Sandy's side. She has chosen to sit on the couch, watching me through the mirror. "Sandy, tell me now, you're making me nervous". I say.

I see a sigh escape her lips as she nods towards me and says, "It's about your performance".

My breathing starts to become uneven as infinite possibilities take shape before me. I remain calmly silent for a moment until I decide to respond.

"Okay..." I affirm, maintaining composure regarding the situation, and wait to get more details. "What happened with that?"

"They said we have to cut it down," she replies at the same time my confusion arises. This time, Sandy doesn't wait for me to ask additional questions and proceeds to explain, "Now, you'll only have time for one song, then you'll have to leave the stage to make way for the next artist".

My eyes narrow in her direction, I turn my back to her, and lean on the back of my seat at the dressing table.

What exactly did she mean by that?

"Next artist?" I ask still confused. "I thought I was the main performance".

"That's right," she replies. "But, apparently, there was a sudden change of plans because they need to add someone else in that slot".

I continue to watch her attentively, examining each of her gestures. She clearly seems nervous, but I feel like she's hiding something more.

"Who?" I venture to ask. The question is enough for Sandy to shake her head repeatedly and get up from her seat on the couch. I watch as she starts pacing around the dressing room, holding her phone and typing at the same time. I call her again, but her response is limited to giving me a look and remaining silent. "Sandy, I was promised a full performance. I've practiced for months to occupy an entire slot, not to be limited to just a few minutes. At the very least, I deserve to know who it is".

Sandy's eyebrows furrow, showing an internal struggle to reveal the truth. Finally, after a sigh that reflects her unease, she utters the name of the responsible party: "It's Harry Styles".

Of all people in this damn industry.

I sigh with frustration and look at myself again in the dressing room mirror. The light illuminates the space, covering my entire face and clearly reflecting my furrowed brow and a pout beginning to form on my lips.

What was originally going to be a complete performance of about ten minutes will now be reduced to only four, with just enough time to present my latest single.

I was upset, or rather, furious. I had dedicated months of effort and rehearsals to this, preparing to occupy an entire slot where I would not only present one but two songs, each with its own set design and choreography. And now, all that work was going to be wasted by having to involuntarily share the spotlight with someone else.

And worst of all, that someone else turned out to be him.

Harry embodied all the negative aspects of my career, being my number one rival since my position began to rise rapidly. There was a time when I considered that his growing popularity along with mine could be seen as a positive boost for my career, but it turned out to be the opposite when I realized he saw it as competition.

At one point, he snatched a venue where I was supposed to give a show. I tried to communicate with his team at that time and eventually with him, thinking it was a mistake. However, when I received a small note on my phone with a headline showing him laughing at the situation and even making sarcastic references to my loss in the middle of his own show, I decided that things needed to change in that regard.

I could tolerate many things, but I wouldn't allow him and his actions to leave my fans and me hanging.

"I'm really sorry, Maddy. I did my best, but they insisted on sharing the space". I hear Sandy's words, feeling her closer and visualizing her behind me, leaning on the chair that still supports my body.

I nod finally, aware that the issue was not in her hands to resolve, as it transcended our team.

I hear three knocks on the door, announcing that it was time to go. I check myself once again, making sure my makeup is still intact, and rise from my seat, also adjusting my skirt.

"Fuck them all. Let's go".

I hear Sandy's laughter beside me, leading the way as the dressing room door opens, allowing me to re-enter the bright light of the hallways. Most of my team is waiting for me. I greet the dancers who will accompany me with a smile and join them as applause fills the space. My team makes the moment more lively, allowing us to perform a small ritual that has become a tradition for us before each performance. We join our hands and raise them with cheers of excitement.

This is how I finally position myself behind the stage, gaining confidence as I turn my back to the audience. With my right hand, I hold the microphone and squeeze it tightly at least three times, inhaling air as I adjust my breathing.

Until I see the stage light up with blue lights, I close my eyes and let the music fill my ears, a chorus of screams chanting my name initiating my performance.

The performance unfolds exceptionally. The dancers beside me don't hesitate to execute strength in their steps, and I, in turn, accompany them beyond necessity. I put into practice all the breathing exercises, holding the high notes perfectly. All the effort is reflected in the applause and screams around me when the music stops and the lights intensify the drama.

I stayed on stage for an additional time, under everyone's gaze, waiting for the team's signal to descend from the platform. I raise my hand and give a small wave to everyone, receiving warm smiles, many of them from faces familiar to me in the industry.

The cue comes through my in-ear monitors, and with the dim lighting present, I descend from the stage at the back.

My team welcomes me with hugs and some applause as we return to the backstage. However, I sense the music resurfacing once again with a sound of trumpets that extends throughout the environment, triggering my inevitable curiosity.

I turn slightly backward, watching the bright light flooding the stage again in a warm tone, this time accompanied by a tall man who exhibits a unique presence that I have had the chance to witness on a few occasions, and he wears a suit that fits perfectly to his body, made of a fabric that seems to be leather.

I make a small grimace as I see him confidently traverse the stage, as if I had never appeared in this one, looking at the people as his own and quickly winning them over with his movements. The audience erupts in cheers when he drops what appears to be a green feather boa, revealing his bare torso, covered only by his leather jacket.

Not wanting to see any more, I turn around and head back to my dressing room, ready to change my clothes and head this time to the new place where the after party would take place.

I opted for a dress in a celestial shade and also fitted to my body, although the fabrics of this one had a subtle dewy effect that I loved.

As I enter the new lounge, I am greeted by upbeat music from a DJ and the dark lights in shades of red and blue become familiar with my dress. I sense greetings from a few industry acquaintances before finally finding my best friend in the crowd. Near a table at the bar, Ally was actively engaged in a conversation with the guy we once talked about, and then I began to doubt whether I should interrupt.

My lips concealed to prevent my smile from being too evident as I approached, but my gaze shifted, and immediately, I regretted it when I felt my steps instinctively stop.

A few feet away, I spotted Joe with his distinctive brown hair, recognizable to me. However, that wasn't all; next to him, a young blonde placed her hand on his shoulder, carelessly approaching his face while smiling at him.

At that moment, I couldn't pinpoint exactly the feeling I was experiencing, except for the paralysis of my heart that prompted me to continue watching their interaction. I mean, it wasn't common to meet my worst ex again, let alone witness his audacity in introducing the woman I discovered was his lover for much of our relationship.

I felt like I could vomit at any moment, and everything seemed to get worse when I sensed that Joe's gaze shifted from the girl beside him to me.

I felt the world crumbling around me, forcing me to blink and look away, although it was already too late when, from the corner of my eye, I saw his figure starting to approach.

Although Ally was still immersed in her conversation with Shawn, I no longer cared about interrupting them. But they were both far enough away that trying to get there in a hurry would be a hopeless endeavor.

So my only option was to turn around and head back to the dressing rooms, which ended only in colliding with another body in the attempt.

"Have you gotten lost all the way to your table now?" I hear Harry's characteristic husky voice, revealing his presence in front of me with a completely revamped outfit, still in dark tones, wearing a suit that seemed to be crafted from a wool-like fabric, though I couldn't pinpoint it due to the dim lighting. What was completely visible was his torso, now covered by a bividi.

A sigh escapes me. This was the last thing I needed.

"I forgot something in my dressing room," I reply.

"Still your dressing room?" he asks mockingly, causing a furrow in my eyebrows. "I thought once your performance was over, your name simply vanished from that door".

"I don't know, what do you think?" I respond sarcastically, hearing his laughter, knowing he expected me to reply with the same tone. "Did your name already vanish?"

"What do you think?" he replies. I roll my eyes, confident that no one would really see my expression due to the lively atmosphere around us. However, I decide to remain subtly cautious and maintain a falsely enthusiastic expression before smiling at him.

"I don't have time for this, Harry. Excuse me". I mutter under my breath, looking down, instantly erasing my smile, and waiting for his body to give me the pass.

Instead, Harry chooses to inquire, "Are you sure?" leaving me again with an inevitable furrowed brow as I realize he's not moving. "Because I see your ex-boyfriend over there with an attractive blonde a few meters from us," he states. Once again, I feel my heart freeze, and a dry cough resonates in my throat. Uncomfortable, I avert my gaze carefully, avoiding meeting anyone's eyes, until the husky voice manifests once again, but this time a bit closer. "And, in case you've forgotten, the dressing rooms are in the opposite direction".

Damn.

"Of course, I remember," I immediately respond, turning my head to address him directly, allowing him to step back a bit as he notices our proximity due to my movement, though I, for my part, don't even react. "I was going to the bathroom first, and then to my dressing room, that's what I meant".

"Sure". he murmurs with another smile. He doesn't hesitate to express his intention to tease me in front of me. His audacity has persisted since I've known him, and the incendiary reaction every time we cross paths only intensifies over time, becoming increasingly unbearable.

I felt a sense of suffocation every time I encountered him. I often watched him from a distance, displaying evident kindness to the public, being friendly, joking, and laughing, letting his dimples adorn his face. Despite all the charming image he projected around him, my perspective on him remained unchanged.

Every close encounter with Harry carried the accumulated tension throughout our career. The thirst for competition lingered silently as we exchanged glances at various events, and at times, even shared cheeky smiles that revealed our triumph when one of us won in our confrontations.

And, on this occasion, that's precisely what he was taking care of.

"Why don't you let me buy you a drink?" he suddenly asks, causing surprise and confusion on my face. I wait a few seconds before he continues, "As a way to congratulate you on your performance".

And there it was. It wasn't a friendly invitation but a celebration of his own triumph.

I feel discomfort rise on my cheeks, turning them reddish and experiencing the spreading warmth in me.

"Do you mean the performance you were about to steal from me?" I respond inquisitively.

"Did I?" he asks, feigning confusion in his words as his eyebrows tilt in sarcasm and his green eyes narrow.

I take the opportunity to get a bit closer to him, leaving us almost at the same distance as he once chose to move away. However, this time, he chooses to remain motionless in his place, making our height difference more evident, though my response is equally close.

"I know perfectly well that all of that was your fault," I murmur, making sure my words stay between us two. His eyebrows slightly arch as he continues to look at me, and I interpret it as a sign to continue, "It was a solo performance, and obviously, you couldn't stand not being the center of attention tonight".

Harry chooses to remain silent, studying my face carefully. I interpret his silence as confirmation, perhaps even something he was ashamed to admit aloud, and rightfully so, because that was what I really expected.

"You seem pretty sure," he finally responds, dropping his head to one side. "Let me discuss it with liquor on me".

"No way". I immediately deny.

"Your ex is still chasing you," he murmurs once again close to me.

I lower my gaze and inhale deeply.

There was no alternative. Either I faced Harry's words, or I faced Joe. One seemed to be worse than the other, although I couldn't decide which was which; but my instinct only urged me to go along with his proposition, and that's exactly what I did.

"Just one," I reply, reaching a conclusion. "No more".

Immediately, a dimple forms on his face, and an almost malicious look accompanies it. Whether I regretted it or not, I had already accepted, and he wouldn't allow me to truly retract.

Finally, this seemed to be my destiny for the night.

"Of course".

Harry turns, indicating for me to follow as the music around us increases as we approach the bar table. Lights flash in a variety of colors, now immersed in a dark violet tone. I grip my small purse firmly as bumps affect my body due to the dancing crowd, possibly drunk, without realizing or anticipating the space they occupy.

I don't pay much attention as I return my gaze forward, realizing that the bar atmosphere is left behind as we move forward.

I furrow my brow and try to match my pace with Harry's, striving to find an explanation. However, he keeps moving with determination and doesn't even turn around, knowing I'm still following him.

I identify the nearest exit door and decide to stop him at that moment. I pull his arm and hold it close to me, causing his pace to halt, and he finally turns to look at me.

"Where are we heading?" I inquire.

"I'll buy you a drink," he simply responds with a shrug, implying that the answer should be obvious.

"But I thought—" my words are interrupted by a sidelong gesture from him as he answers: "Those there aren't good".

My eyes narrow in suspicion. "Did you even try them?" I ask.

"I heard some comments," he says, shrugging his shoulders again.

Harry doesn't wait for me to say more and takes advantage of the grip I still have on his arm to grab my wrist, pulling my body slightly to keep walking.

The door of the lounge is opened by the security personnel guarding it, and the night breeze intensifies around me, leaving the noise of the music behind.

Once the doors close, I can appreciate the difference between the white lights coming from one of the main parking lots of the venue and the various luxury cars parked all over the place. Harry leads us to one of them, specifically a Range Rover that is slightly separated from the other cars. His hand releases my wrist and goes in the opposite direction of the car, letting me pass alone to the other side. I stay there for a few seconds, watching his interaction with the driver until he returns to my side, opens the back door, and lets me go first. I express a "thank you" in response and get into the car.

The journey turned uncomfortably silent, allowing me to settle at one end of the fine leather seat as I watched the city streets materialize around us through the polarized windows. My grip on my bag occasionally intensified, fidgeting with my fingers in an attempt to calm my nervousness.

The moment inside the lounge replayed in my mind, with Joe's brown eyes fixed on me, probably witnessing my exit with Harry. However, all the concern faded, carried away by the same tide to which I was willingly submitting. It's at that moment I hear my companion's voice, alerting me that we have arrived.

Harry steps out of the car first, unexpectedly assuming the role of a chauffeur as he opens the door and takes my hand while helping me descend. I feel his warm touch, contrasting with the multiple rings adorning his fingers. A chill runs down my spine, accentuated by the surrounding breeze.

The environment seems colder than usual, permeated by the salty aroma, and the presence of several yachts parked around the area makes it even more apparent. I furrow my brow, directing my gaze to the man beside me, who seems immune to my gesture and keeps his eyes straight ahead.

What the hell am I doing here?

"Where are we?" I inquire. More out of the need to know, I do it with the desire to get a genuine explanation from him.

It's only then that Harry turns his gaze back to me, revealing a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"I thought it was obvious by the yachts around us," he replies. At that moment, his figure starts to move, and I realize the car has withdrawn. The cool breeze surrounds us as I shift my attention to the majestic yachts practically next to me. One more luxurious than the other, with a shiny appearance, but this only serves to increase my confusion.

"I mean," I begin to say as I follow him down the wooden path, causing my heels to resonate more loudly. "I know where we are, but why are we here?"

Harry instinctively turns, throwing me a brief look before responding, "Because I owe you a drink". My gaze intensely connects with his, and I notice one of his dimples forming again due to his smirk. "What?"

"This is not a bar," I reply, pointing out the obvious at that moment. Our steps are the only response I continue to receive until, after what seems like a few minutes of walking, we stop in front of a particular yacht.

It was almost as extensive as the others, presenting itself with at least three sections from this perspective, equally white and gleaming, illuminated from the outside and showing only a glimpse of its interior. However, this one stood out even more among all, displaying the initials "HS" on the front, which leads me to connect the dots and take a closer look at the owner that I now recognize.

"What better than having a drink in the middle of the ocean, don't you think?"

For some reason, I choose silence as a response and wait for Harry, once again, to help me climb the stairs leading inside the yacht.

Inside, the opulence becomes even more evident. The bow presents itself as an illuminated catwalk, even equipped with spacious sofas for comfort. The interior looks almost like a small apartment, also furnished, with a table and chairs for any meal one might want to enjoy. A carpet covers the entire floor, softening the sound of my heels, while some ornaments decorate the space, highlighting the golden details around.

"Make yourself at home," I suddenly hear Harry say from behind, taking me by surprise. I turn my head instantly, slightly bumping into his face, as I see him enter the space. Finally, I notice that in the background, behind a partition, there is a wide stool that seems to be part of the kitchen and, in turn, the bar with a variety of drinks on display welcomes my presence. Harry's body is disappearing into that area, blending in and leaving me alone at the entrance.

A sigh escapes my lips as I sink into the spacious sofa. I check my bag, opening it to take out my phone and heading straight to Ally's contact. The call doesn't ring until the third tone, by which time I already hear the music hitting my speakers, forcing me to move the phone slightly away from my ear.

"Maddy?" I finally hear my friend say. "Where the hell are you?"

"I'm fine, calm down," I reply. "I came with a— Um," at that moment, I didn't know what to say. I had called to assure her that I was okay, but I hadn't considered the most obvious: what would I tell her if she asked what I was doing? I couldn't just spill the situation, as that would prolong the conversation, and the last thing I wanted was for Harry to hear all the details as if it were a gossip show. I quickly think of a response before Ally starts to suspect. "With a friend I met backstage, and we came for a drink at a... small nearby bar so no one can make assumptions," I conclude. I bite my lower lip as I hear Ally's response materialize on the other side of the line.

"Do I know that friend?"

"Uh," I hesitate for a moment before responding, genuinely trying to stop lying altogether. So I say, "Yes, probably". But before she can ask more questions, I interrupt her. "I'll tell you later".

"That's fine," she replies. I hear the music around her slightly fading, suggesting that she's stepping aside to get more privacy. "But is he at least hot?" she asks. And I have no idea what to answer.

I swallow as I look back into the yacht, watching Harry's broad back and curls from a distance. Even meters away, he appears unperturbed, and curiosity fills my instincts again. I hide my lips and look straight ahead.

"A bit," I reply.

"Alright," she responds. "Let me know if you need me to pick you up or something, I'm here for you".

"I know, there's no need to worry," I reply. "Are you going back with Robert?" I ask, knowing that now only my driver remains to ensure she gets to her own apartment safely.

"Well..." I hear a small laugh from her, and my eyebrows raise as I wait for her response. "I think I'm heading somewhere else too".

"Oh..." A shared laughter joins the conversation. "Okay... I understand," I nod through the call. "I'll wait for the details".

"I'll be waiting for yours too. Goodbye," I hear her slightly dragging the words, so I simply respond with a goodbye and hang up.

It seems I wasn't the only one who had an unexpected encounter.

A few minutes passed as I dedicated myself to look around, putting my phone back in my bag. At that moment, I hear the partition opening, with a subtle but attention-catching sound making my head turn in its direction.

Then, I see Harry holding two glasses in his hands, bringing one towards me and keeping the other.

The liquor has a hue similar to pink, sharpening my curiosity as I bring it to my lips. The sip results in a bittersweet taste, immediately recognizing the mix of vodka and strawberry.

"It's really good, thank you," I comment as I continue to feel the subtle sweetness on my lips. I sense the sofa slightly sinking under the weight of someone else a few meters away, as if they were trying to maintain a distance. Harry leaves his drink on the table in front of us, watching me as I continue to drink.

It truly was delicious, but I no longer knew what else to say besides continuing to sip. So, I decided that the moment might be more bearable if I introduced some alcohol into my system. That would be the only way to stop thinking about the look Harry was giving me at that moment.

"Now we can address what you mentioned in that room," I hear his rough voice through my ears, awakening any instinct as I pay attention. "You seemed very confident in stating that I tried to steal your presentation".

"Wasn't that the case?" I inquire in response, finally placing my glass with the drink less than halfway on the table, right next to his. "It doesn't make sense for you to deny it. And neither do I have any point in remembering it". I tell him. A silence hangs between us, leaving his response in the void as an idea forms in my mind. At this point, the liquor has started to take effect, and although I'm not seeing blurry nor unconscious by any means, my filter disappears. And I really have no objections to that, as it is exactly what I wanted.

"I propose something," I start, capturing his attention with a steady gaze into his green eyes, which seem filled with curiosity, not really anticipating what I'm about to say. "For tonight, I'll leave all that behind, and you won't mention it with the intention of annoying me."

"Do I do it to annoying you?" he asks, laughing, one that highlights his dimples again as he shakes his head expressively and approaches the table to reach for his glass.

"You really have difficulty recognizing what you do, don't you?" I inquire, tilting my head to the right.

"That's all you assume," he responds.

"All you don't admit," I retort.

"Now you're calling me a liar," he comments after taking another sip of his drink. His words are laced with more sarcasm than usual, and his cheeky smile becomes more evident. "After you've had a drink, that's a bit disrespectful".

"Tell me a truth," I suddenly say, catching him completely off guard for a moment. His eyes meet mine directly, squinting slightly and raising his chin a bit. I watch as his tongue passes over his lips, moistening them and giving them a natural shine, before he answers: "I watched your performance".

"Now, a lie,"

A smirk begins to form on him, and then he replies, "I watched your performance".

Unexpectedly, a smile of my own appears on my face.

"I think it's your turn now," he tells me. I nod my head and inhale a bit of air before settling into my seat, allowing my dress to rise slightly and reveal more of my thigh. I don't bother to fix it, noticing Harry's gaze descending before realizing that I'm watching him.

And then another idea crosses my mind.

"Let's make this more interesting," I propose. "The loser will take off an item of clothing".

Harry's eyebrows raise in surprise, but quickly lower, leaving his expression showing only curiosity.

"Are you sure?" he questions.

"Of course," I reply without hesitation, reaffirming my confidence.

Harry responds with a small sigh, settling into the sofa, letting his body sink a bit more into it. He adopts a pose by resting his arm on the backrest and slightly opening his legs for comfort. In the whole process, I can't help but observe him.

"I didn't know that bold side of you, Maddy," he suddenly mentions my nickname, leaving me with a slight frown, wondering how he knew. "Who would've thought".

"On the contrary, I feel like I know a lot about you," I reply in a lower tone.

"Oh, really?" he asks, matching my tone. A playful smile forms on my face as I nod.

"Yes," I start, leaning slightly closer to him. My knees press into the sofa, and my hands sink into it as I slowly approach his body in a crawling position. I focus solely on following Harry's eyes, which darken, taking on the same tone as the night that envelops us, abandoning the green they briefly exhibited. I stop at the level of his knees, not directly colliding with them, and then I also rest my arm on the back of the sofa.

"You're narcissistic," I murmur, allowing silence to settle between us as my words hang in the air. "You enjoy being the center of attention, and when someone doesn't give it to you, you seek it at all costs," I continue. "That's why you brought me here. You can't stand that I won't surrender to you for real".

Silence settles between us again, but this time I feel the atmosphere becoming denser. Despite the breeze, I experience how heat floods my body, reddening my cheeks and forcing the opening of my lips to facilitate the circulation of oxygen. As for Harry, watching each of my movements with his eyes, which still retain their dark color, observing me with precision.

His lips receive another moistening from his tongue before he responds: "Aren't you already doing it?" he asks, his voice deeper than usual.

"You lost," I retort. A look of fake disappointment forms on my face, followed by a smile that I can't hide. "You know what that means".

Harry doesn't say anything for a few more seconds, until I finally notice one of his dimples returning on his cheek as he lowers his gaze. And with a final nod, he replies, "If you insist".

The minutes keep ticking away, and the atmosphere becomes hotter as Harry's clothes disappear. I always trusted my statements, no matter the question, and thanks to my certainty in words, Harry accepted his defeat in most of the rounds.

However, things took a turn; my glass was already empty, and my embarrassment vanished with it. This time, I was more than obvious, allowing the only garment that played against me, my dress, to disappear from my body when I admitted defeat, leaving me in lingerie. Harry simply watches the moment as I stand up from the sofa to make it easier to remove my dress. My lace set is black, with small flowers adorning the edges.

I leave the dress on the sofa and approach to return to my place, but Harry's hand lands on my wrist, stopping me as I look at him.

My breathing starts to become irregular, accentuated by his touch that intensifies it. I watch as Harry rises from his seat, standing in front of me, highlighting once again our height difference, but closing the gap nonetheless. His cool chest impacts against mine, brushing against me in a contact I eagerly await. I feel anxious to experience more, and Harry seems to sense it, patiently waiting to take my neck with his palm, sliding his right thumb over my lips. In an instant, I part them slightly, allowing the gentle touch of his fingertip to meet my mouth and eventually take its place inside.

My lips wrap around his finger, caressing it with my tongue as a circular motion saturates it with saliva, all of this under Harry's watchful gaze from above.

And at that moment, when I feel I can no longer bear the pressure and try to move away to take the next step, Harry tightens his grip on my neck, placing his entire palm around it, leaving me immobile for a moment and allowing my breath to come out with slight difficulty through my mouth. I can feel my heart beating harder, and at this point, I have no doubts that he can hear it too. His palm raises my neck, placing his face inches from mine. My gaze lowers and rises in an expectant rhythm, watching his lips and returning to his eyes, a rhythm that keeps me restless, asking for more, craving more, and only calming when his face takes on the expression I desire. His gaze, changing in the darkness of the night, follows me, and my agony comes to an end when his lips meet mine.

A passionate, desperate, thirsty kiss fills me, complementing my body and intensifying my sensations. My hands become explorers, and he satisfies them as I touch his body, tracing his face, reaching his hair, pressing him more against me, if only it were possible.

Harry, for his part, releases his hold on my neck and descends down my body just as unrestrained, exploring every corner of my body with his touch. He moves across my back with intensity, brushing with delicacy and eliciting a moan from me during our kiss. His rings are still cold, becoming more evident as he descends, exerting pressure on my skin and possibly leaving marks due to their firmness. Although I wouldn't admit it out loud, I wished it to be so, especially on my buttocks, where his pinkie and ring fingers, adorned with his significant initial rings, exerted pressure.

The kiss becomes careless, causing us to separate slightly in search of air. Harry takes advantage of this to grab my hips, and in an unexpected move for me, he turns me, allowing my body to fall and press me forcefully against the table in front of us.

My face and palms are pressed against the glass, adjusting to the space, although I have no complaints about it. My senses intensify, perceiving Harry's body behind me with strength, and even more noticeably, his erection protruding from his boxers, pressing firmly against me.

My eyes begin to close, surrendering to the sensation even when my underwear remains a barrier between us. However, as seconds pass, desperation takes over me again; the dripping of my fluids only increases, and my hips begin to move as a signal. But Harry takes care of putting an end to it, pressing my hips once again and, this time, letting his palm strike forcefully on my buttock.

I can't contain a scream that escapes from me, while my hands desperately search for something to hold onto. I realize that the smoothness of the glass plays against me, and I can only try to hold on firmly to the table.

I feel the tingling on my skin, probably already reddened, but it is soothed by Harry's palm, which moves gently around, in a dangerous massage that approaches and moves away from the area that needs it the most. His fingers intertwine with my underwear, slightly raising the fabric and allowing the breeze from the surroundings to reach that part. Another moan escapes from my lips, and I close my eyes, surrendering to the sensation.

"It looks so good on you," I hear his voice near my ear as he continues exploring the fabric, causing a shiver to run down my spine. "It's a shame that it's getting in the way right now".

It's at that moment when I hear the fabric's crunch, and my eyes open immediately. Harry doesn't give me time to react as I feel his erection finally pressing against me. Touching me, but this time without restrictions, he maintains an ascending and descending rhythm while moistening it with my own fluids. The sensation is pleasurable, so much so that my lips part more, and sounds of satisfaction resonate throughout the bow.

My mind focuses exclusively on the sensation, paying attention to every movement, and I join in with my hips. Harry keeps his firm grip on them until, at one point, I feel him distant. I don't perceive his touch with mine, and a pout forms instantly on my lips. I turn slightly towards him and see that he has a condom package in his hands, already starting to open it.

My pout becomes more evident, emitting a sound that draws his attention back to my face. I know it's the right thing to do, and yet surprisingly I find myself feeling disappointed by this when I should be grateful; but considering that I am free from any disease, perhaps I expect the same from him.

Harry watches me for a few seconds before lowering the condom, half-open, and looking at me attentively.

"I have no doubt that you're safe, but are you taking care of yourself?" he asks. My heart starts to beat rapidly as I nod immediately.

"Should I doubt that you're safe too?" I inquire in response, just to be reasonably sure.

"I can show you my certificate another day if you wish," he says, showing a serious expression that indicates his proposition is genuine. A smile escapes from me.

"Do you come with a pedigree?" I jokingly ask. Then his gaze changes once again, observing me with darkened eyes.

And I feel Harry's response materialize in a smack that elicits a moan of pain and pleasure from me.

"Damn," I mutter through gritted teeth.

"Very funny," he replies in turn.

The moment is brief, with his anger disappearing or maybe intensifying when the first penetration takes place.

A moan escapes from me, intensifying as the thrusts become more frequent. Harry shows no mercy, much less moderates his strokes. He grips my hip with one hand while the other presses into my lower back, pushing me harder against the table with each thrust and leaving me adrift with each impact.

"Fuck, Maddy," his simple voice, mentioning my nickname again, provokes a sigh that escapes my lips, being carried away by his movement. "You feel so good".

My eyes struggle to stay open, wishing to truly absorb the moment in all my senses but becoming increasingly difficult as the intensity builds.

The upper part of my underwear still rested on me, but now the fabric becomes uncomfortable as my body craves the slightest freshness to contrast with the moment. Apparently, I wasn't the only one seeking it, as Harry, as if reading my thoughts, shifts the hand that was on my back to my bra, and in a swift motion, unclasps it, freeing my body.

I feel his torso press against my now exposed back, lifting me slightly and allowing his hand to fit perfectly on my bare chest. I bite my lower lip once again with such force that it anticipates the possibility of blood in my taste.

Harry's caress feels soft on my skin, creating an absolute contrast with his movements inside me. Occasionally, his roughness manifests fully when he lightly squeezes my nipples, making the sounds coming out of my mouth more pronounced as he advances.

"Do you want to tease me again?" his voice emerges as I drop the question and focus on the sensation. "Come on, pretty girl, talk to me," he insists once more, trying to provoke a response. I bite my lip, holding back a smile, aware that I am getting into a small dangerous game at that moment.

Harry's grip intensifies, pressing against my skin, probably realizing the dynamic that was unfolding.

"Or do you prefer me to call you a slut?" the simple suggestion makes my back arch, revealing my immediate response, and I hear a husky laugh from his part. "Is that what you are? A little slut who enjoys my cock filling you?" another moan from me manifests in the space, representing my own thoughts.

"Does it feel good, huh?" Too good, I wanted to respond, but once again, I chose to hide my lips between my teeth. Then, I feel my hair being pulled sharply, lifting my body from the table and leaving me in an arched position. My buttocks rise, and the sound of the collision of our skins becomes more evident.

"I bet that idiot you had as an ex didn't even get close to this," I hear him say, and actually, far from worrying about the mention of my ex, the unspoken response to his statement is more than evident in my body.

Harry personified desire in its purest form, and the longing for more became evident in each of our encounters. I hadn't realized this until this moment when I felt him hitting inside me, holding me firmly, talking dirty to me. This was all I needed.

I hear Harry's breath in my ear, intense enough to reverberate in my senses and take me to experience a deeper level than I thought I could reach in my whole body. The adrenaline keeps rising in me, reflected by the thin layer of sweat on my skin, completely undoing the smoothing I once had.

My hands, full of desperation, try to move backward in an attempt for contact. However, Harry's firm grip on me makes this almost impossible; daring to move on my own would mean losing balance completely.

I have no sense of how much time has passed, with the only sound being the echo of my moans mixed with his in the space, when I feel everything come to a complete stop. I turn my head towards him, seeking his gaze and finding it with an amused expression that he doesn't even try to hide.

"Keep going," I demand in a whimper, but Harry ignores my words, still watching me and still inside me. "Damn it, Harry, continue," I express this time with annoyance. For his part, Harry tilts his head to the side, looking at me expectantly.

"Not even a please?" he asks.

A sigh escapes from me. I don't hesitate to do it. Honestly, at this moment, anything was valid for me; I just wanted to feel him again.

"Please, please," I murmur to him. The plea makes his eyes darken once again more than usual, and his gaze reflects the quickness of the change in his expression. "Continue, please".

I don't even finish speaking when Harry pushes his cock once again into me, with a speed that equals or surpasses the previous one. My grip tightens on the table, holding on with strength and trying to endure as much as I could.

"Tell me a truth, Maddy," I hear him say in my ear. "Tell me how you feel. Tell me you need this as much as I do". His words express an assertion, being confident as always, and if I had been fully conscious, I would have laughed just to tease him. However, now I felt like I was levitating and was willing to follow every order he gave me just to keep feeling him.

It was surprising to admit that his effect really caused this, the nullification of my own reason, yielding to his, and letting myself be carried away by the waves of the same ocean we were in. That was Harry, the whirlpool I willingly submitted to, just to experience another taste.

At least, for this night.

"Tell me, or I'll stop". I hear his threatening voice, and before I can articulate a response, I feel the firm pressure of his hands on my hips, urging me once again.

"Holy shit," I manage to say, gripping the table tightly. My head tilts back, feeling his own chest behind me as he advances in his movements. I can't form a coherent sentence without being interrupted by the pleasant sensation. As his movement continues, I pray for him not to stop; therefore, his name escapes my lips, expressing a single plea that I hope satisfies him, although with Harry, we both know it will never be enough.

"Come on, pretty girl," he repeats that nickname that sends a shiver down my spine once again. "Tell me a truth or you'll lose again".

"It feels so good," I finally utter, albeit still with difficulty. "Don't you dare stop," I warn, hearing a low chuckle in response. "I'm so close".

"Come," he responds immediately, accelerating his pace inside me, causing my eyes to close. "Let me feel how you tighten around me".

"Come with me," I manage to say only.

"You don't have to ask me twice," I hear his response in my ear.

The intensification of his thrusts makes them more rhythmic, marking a strong beat that increases the collision between our naked bodies. My head continues arched backward, but this time it remains immobilized by his arm around my neck, holding firmly in the precise place. The pressure is strong enough to be felt, but still allows me to breathe without too much difficulty. However, this complicates as I feel my movement synchronizing with his, my hips coming to life on their own as I approach the peak of pleasure in my life.

Tears run down my cheeks, leaving a salty taste on my lips, inevitably absorbed while my mouth emits moans or seeks air. The walls of my pussy begin to contract, and I can feel the pulsations inside me from Harry's cock, indicating that he is as close as I am.

I couldn't help but wish that he would come before me, longing to experience his reactions firsthand. However, the inevitable happened.

I felt a sensation of warmth rising through my body, wrapped in an electricity that made me move more restlessly and carelessly. My moans became louder, and finally, I experienced the tension bursting around me. I was unable to feel anything other than my own release and the overwhelming sense of satisfaction that invaded me.

Harry's grip relaxes on my neck, releasing it and allowing my body to fall back onto the table. It is at that moment, when I finally find myself able to regain awareness of my surroundings, that I can feel Harry's body leaning against mine, embracing me gently with his posture and holding me with delicate gestures.

The synchronization of our own breaths takes at least a few minutes, during which we both maintain our positions and experience an immediate sense of relaxation that extends throughout our bodies.

The minutes seem to prolong, and fatigue envelops me, allowing me to perceive only the freshness of the night breeze as Harry pulls away. I feel his touch on my legs, wiping me with what seems to be paper and holding me to prevent me from falling. Finally, I let myself fall on the couch, backed by him, and let myself be carried away by exhaustion, while Harry's green eyes are the last thing I see before everything plunges into darkness.

The whisper of the sea and the movement of the waves wake me up, and I realize that the night has given way to the blue morning sky around the yacht.

My drowsy eyes struggle to accurately perceive the environment until I focus on the table in front of me, which seems to be located farther from its usual position, several meters away from the scattered chairs in the place.

Memories of the previous night assault me at once with this landscape, leading me to look up and meet the serene face of a sleeping Harry beneath me.

I contemplate some of his curls falling onto his forehead, while I realize that his face has small marks from my dark lipstick. A faint smile forms on my lips as I try to move in my position without waking him.

In my attempt, I look around again, noticing that my bag is also scattered on the floor and has started buzzing similar to my notifications, which doesn't cease.

My brow slightly furrows, trying to distance myself carefully from Harry once again until I finally manage to and take my bag in my hands, pulling out my phone.

The time is revealed to me, noticing that it might be due to the various notifications that were coming in. On the screen, I see messages from some friends, numerous missed calls from Ally and Sandy, and a last message from an unknown number.

I access the last message from Ally, finding her response that she is already home and noting a drastic change this morning, or more precisely, since dawn. Her messages started with capital letters and filled the chat with about twenty monosyllables, culminating in a final message begging me to explain what was happening.

I didn't fully understand until I decided to open the link she attached to the message. Then, a note from People magazine opens in my browser, with my profile face and the image of a smiling Harry next to me.

I close my eyes for a moment. I should have anticipated that this would happen.

Inevitably, I continue scrolling down the page, and a big headline appears, accompanied by more photos of me getting into his black car and disappearing with Harry, leaving no trace of us throughout the night.

«CAUGHT IN A SPECIAL NIGHT Has Madison Moore decided to leave behind the melancholic romance and opt for vibrant pop? Discover the latest details about the encounter between the star girl and none other than Harry Styles.»

Shit.

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