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#this stupid first season was great and what is left. hate this

lisired · 2 months

Text

pretty little weapon

pairing: undercover cop!mark x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, organized crime, cop x criminal, graphic depictions of blood and violence, mentions of death, smut, choking, oral (f receiving), biting, a pinch of angst, mentions of pregnancy-related death, unprotected sex (dont b silly, wrap ur willy!), vague mentions of sexual assault

summary: A lifetime worth of adversity had brought you to Bloodlust. You joined them to escape your history, but with Mark Lee - an undercover narcotics agent with a secret to keep - comes the threat of being forced to confront your past. Old wounds are opened, but scars heal.

word count: 25.7k (…i have nothing to say for myself.)

a/n: inspired by PLW by leon thomas, bad news by kehlani, and perfect crime by tinashe! bon appetite! I did this on a whim. read this with the 2 baddies styling concept in mind. as always, feedback is appreciated!

You were going to be absolutely livid if Yuta didn’t up your pay.

After a long night of work, you anticipated crawling into your sheets. Then waking up to a large sum of money deposited into your account in the morning as courtesy of your hard work.

That never happened.

“This was not in the job description,” you complained to your boss. Though there was technically never a clock for you to be on, you had already firmly clocked out. And when he invited you on this escapade, you were inclined to deny. But he was nothing if not unrelenting.

Yuta smirked and brushed you off. “You do stone cold murder for a living, baby. This is what you signed yourself up for the moment you killed somebody.”

God, you hated when he was right. Sometimes all you ever wanted to do was argue with whatever he said. Moments like this when he began cutting down on your downtime.

Soaring through flocks of people, you kept very close to Yuta’s side, his arm firm around you. People knew not to mess with him, and thus anyone considered his associate. That was one of the beauties of working for Bloodlust, you supposed. As long as you were loyal and faithful to them, you were guaranteed total protection and discretion against anyone.

The tale of how you secured a job of this nature in the first place was relatively simple. You were scouting the streets as usual, given it was the only home you’d known. Violence was absolutely nothing new to you as you had been in your fair share of street gangs prior to Bloodlust. But one thing led to another and you had blood on your hands in an act of self defense. Specifically the blood of your own fellow gangster.

Just your luck, Yuta witnessed the scene. He was a stranger at the time, some shady man offering help that looked like nothing short of trouble. You found yourself surprised that you even took his deal, but you weren’t left with any alternatives. Going back to the gang was not an option; there was no telling how the leader would respond to the blood of your superior being on your very hands. There was no mercy there.

Yuta vowed to cover for you, but you would perpetually owe him in return. You were expecting something more lewd when he informed you that you would be working for him, though you did nothing of the sort. Yuta took you under his wing and handed you a job as a contract killer.

And the rest was history.

You hurdled closer to his chest, pursuing warmth. Given the hour and the season, the outdoors were becoming frostier. You exhaled and saw your breath condensing in the air.

“Stay put,” Yuta said. As if you would run off anywhere. You were tempted, though you weren’t stupid. And though you would never admit it to his face, you loved the street races.

After you nodded, Yuta parted without having to worm his way through the crowd. They respected him, though most of it was out of pure fear. They made way for him whenever they saw him approaching.

You eyed the roads while you waited. The street races were one of your favorite aspects of the gang. They were orchestrated by Yuta and were a great source of profit overall. But watching them was the part you were fond of.

One of the cars before you caught your eye - a neon green Porsche. You had barely laid a finger on the exterior before you were forcibly knocked backwards, your face slung to the other side.

You held your cheek in your palm, adrenaline pumping through your veins. There was no immediate pain. You didn’t even feel like you were in your body. You could only stumble as you grasped to process what happened.

A visibly upset man - one of the racers - was waving his fist at you, screaming this profanity and that, but from the looks of it you hadn’t left as much as a scratch on his car. And if he thought he was going to intimidate you, he had another thing coming. Brutal adrenaline came over you and you socked him square in the jaw. Harder.

The racer was knocked to the ground by the force. “You’re gonna regret that,” he growled. You merely laughed. It was comical and you almost took pity on him. This guy clearly had no idea what forces were on your side. Not until he noticed Yuta and Johnny beginning to rush in his direction and he bolted.

The gang had very simple rules and even simpler consequences. If you disobeyed, you died. They were so simple that if you violated them, they read it as an act of defiance. The most obvious rule was to respect the high-ranks and their associates. The second was to comply, or your punishment would be fatal.

Another man came to your side and lowered you to the ground for inspection. This one you didn’t recognize at all. “Yo, are you okay?”

“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” you said, moving your fingers from your cheek to your lips. When you glanced down at them, you saw blood.

The stranger handed you a napkin. “Here.”

You took it and wiped your mouth, and thus the blood at the corner of your lips. That was one hell of a punch. Rather than feeling pain, you were in a state of immobilizing shock.

“Thanks, uh…,” you squinted your eyes, running his face through the facial recognition system installed in your memory. But you came short. Which was surprising, because you always remembered the faces of the regulars.

“Mark,” the stranger finished. Then he flashed you a smile. “It’s nothing. You should get that checked out, though. Make sure nothing’s broken or fractured.”

You nodded. As a result of uttering any speech, you noticed that your jaw slightly ached when you spoke. For fuck’s sake. None of this would have happened if you were in your bed.

Then Mark disappeared. And you had no time to think before you heard a piercing noise.

Gunshots rang in the distance and you weren’t at all surprised to see Yuta and Johnny return with sinister looks on their faces. Yuta helped you to your feet and asked, “You good, Scar?”

Scar was the alias you’d been granted after Yuta noticed the scar on your stomach. Rather than finding it odd, he was astonished by it. Which was so utterly Yuta of him. The alias served no other purpose than maintaining your confidentiality, but Yuta always thought it had a nice ring to it.

“Not the first time I’ve been punched. I think I’m gonna be fine,” you assured him. The gods had blessed you with an unholy pain tolerance, which all your tattoos were a testament to. You remembered the matching one you got with Yuta and subconsciously smiled.

Friends like Yuta were, needless to say, rare.

All of the evil melted from Yuta’s face and he chuckled. “You’re a tough woman.”

“You love it.”

“I do.” Yuta curled his arm around you again. You were certain he was going to cuff one of your hands to his arm and never let you out of his sight again. “I was surprised that you didn’t finish that guy then and there. You took a pretty mean punch, babe. Must’ve been too shocked.”

That you were. But he was taking a nice load of bullets to the head before you even got the chance.

After the races were over and the roads were cleared out, you followed Yuta to his car. You suddenly had a thought once you hit the road.

“Yuta, do you know someone named Mark?”

Yuta furrowed his brows. “Nah. Why?”

Your heart sank. “Fuck.”

He glanced at you for a split second before returning his eyes to the road, but asked, “What’s wrong?”

“There was this guy at the race. He helped me and gave me a napkin to wipe the blood off of my face, but I didn’t recognize him. He told me his name was Mark.”

Yuta was alarmed. Just as you expected. It was one thing if you didn’t recognize a person at one of the gang’s events, but not Yuta. He had to ensure the attendee’s identities were closely monitored for everyone’s sake.

“Fucking hell?” Yuta handed you his phone and said, “Call Jaemin for me and tell him to look into the records. Maybe it slipped my mind. Let’s not jump to any conclusions, okay?”

You nodded your head and did as told, pressing his phone to your ear. Jaemin told you that he was AFK but would run a search as soon as he got back to the headquarters. Yuta dropped you off promptly and assured you that he’d call you with an update first thing in the morning.

Which only left you to wait.

In the morning, Yuta called you into his office, and you were immensely surprised to see not only him but Ten and Taeyong waiting for you in the room. Technically, you didn’t work for Bloodlust as a whole. There was a team of hitmen that worked specifically under one high-rank, though you were Yuta’s subordinate. Thus, encounters with other high-ranks were rare. Especially the leader.

Taeyong was the leader and the one at the helm of the entire gang. He inherited the title by succession to the metaphorical throne through descent. Yuta was his right-hand man, though given Taeyong rarely stepped out of the shadows unless absolutely necessary, Yuta being perceived as the leader was a popular misconception to outsiders and law enforcement. Which was completely deliberate. The less law enforcement knew, the better. It also made the task of differentiating interlopers from legitimates much lighter.

Ten was the gang’s personal spy. Their eyes to the other world. Just like any other high-rank, he directly supervised an entire branch of people pertaining to his title. Essentially, he was the leader of a team of criminal agents.

None of that explained why they were here, though.

As it was in your best interest, you greeted the three of them very politely. Though Yuta had a threatening position, you were close enough to be informal. Those freedoms didn’t apply to Ten and the leader. They might have been as good as strangers, but considering their influence in the underworld, they could have ended your life and career in an instant if they so pleased.

Glancing at Yuta, you said, “You called me, Boss?”

Yuta resisted a smirk at your attempts to be formal. You never called him ‘Boss’. “I did. I had Jaemin follow up on the Mark guy. We found something recent about him in our records.”

Ten interjected, “But I had a buy-off of mine’s confirm his real identity. He’s a Lee Minhyung. An undercover narcotics agent once tasked with tracking down a drug empire, and now that he shut them down we believe he’s moved on to attempting to infiltrate our ranks.”

Your blood ran cold. Frozen over in your veins. Forever grateful were you that you were excellent at maintaining your composure. Otherwise you would have panicked.

Taeyong stood at the far end of the pair. You had heard numerous things about him, but you were left gasping for air every time you saw him in person. If looks could kill, you would’ve been six feet under. Taeyong continued, “I’m sure you can guess why this is an urgent problem for us. It is my direct responsibility to protect the identities of those that put their faith in this gang and ensure their confidentiality. Now that we have a cop meddling in our affairs, that complicates things.”

That was to put it simply. The police infiltrating their territory was a direct threat imposed to the future of the empire. The moment the diplomacy was dismantled, so was the entire gang. Bloodlust in itself was intended to be an enigma. The purpose of hiring hitmen and establishing them by individual aliases was to deliberately make it difficult to link crimes to the gang. In return, your genuine identities were concealed. There was too much at stake to remain idle.

You supposed it made sense that Mark was kind to you. That made it easier to gain people’s trust. Though in the underworld, it made you look suspicious. Which led you to another question; if he was benevolent to you, did that mean you were specifically targeted?

You leaned forward in your chair and asked, “What does he know about the gang?”

“That’s where we hit a dead end,” said Ten, frustrated thoroughly. Whatever information they were relaying to you was everything they knew themselves. “Since he engaged with you, we considered that he might have a lead on you. If that’s true, most likely he’ll interact with you again given the opportunity.”

That didn’t alarm you. For most of your life, you’d lived on the edge, and that was especially true when you were a member of those prior street gangs. If your old friends sold you out, you wouldn’t be surprised. Yuta informed you early on that Bloodlust could keep your future under lock and key, though not your past.

But you were very suspicious. They wanted something out of you, that much was clear. Something significant. There was no other reason why the leader himself was before you. Though what?

“With all due respect, I don’t understand my involvement in this.”

Taeyong was straightforward. “We want you to play along.”

You nearly gawked. “Excuse me?”

He wasn’t the least bit bothered by you and continued, “The best way to fight fire is with fire. If Lee Minhyung wants to use you as his means of conveying intel, then let him, but lead him astray while doing so.”

In short, they wanted you to give Mark false information. Which steered far from your line of work. Why they chose you for the job in spite of having people actually equipped for the task was a mystery. Yuta was not kidding when he said that you signed yourself up for additional labor the moment you killed somebody.

Frowning, you tried to stave them off. “You’re just gonna send a girl with no prior experience into the wild?”

“Must I remind you that we have full access and authority to all of your history stored in our records?” Ten sneered in amusement. “Think of it as a resume. It’s been a few years, but yours was very memorable. This wouldn’t be your first mole job.”

That was true. Anyone recruited to work for the gang was required to give a complete rundown of their history. Even recruits like you that didn’t respond to them directly. They made it very clear that lying would have put you in an early grave; Bloodlust had eyes everywhere.

“And you wouldn’t be uncompensated. I’ll triple your pay,” Yuta added.

That had your undivided attention. “I’m listening.”

Yuta fought a snicker. He expected nothing less. “We know that this isn’t what you usually do, but the job is very simple. It’s expected that he’ll try to extract information from you, so give him the wrong info. At the same time, try to figure out what he knows and what he wants. There’s a motive behind him targeting you and until we can confirm otherwise, we have to assume you’re his prey and he has valuable intel in his possession.”

“Why not just kill him upfront?”

“He might be valuable,” came Ten’s reply. “Whatever he knows, it’s safe to assume that he isn’t the only one.”

“We will be closely monitoring the entire empire for any turncoats, but he’s not alone. He has a partner,” warned Taeyong with a hefty stare. “So you have to be cautious about what you say to him.”

Ten began to get impatient and said, “So, do we have a deal?”

Tapping the arms of the office chair, you pretended to mull the proposition over although you had already made your decision. If their motive in collectively ganging up against you was to make you feel pressured into agreeing, you were almost inclined to decline the offer out of pure spite. But the genuine interest you had in the assignment discouraged you. There was too much at stake to play games.

There’s no good reason to decline, you decided halfway through the offer. Exposing yourself to law enforcement might’ve seemed too risky, but law enforcement potentially exposing you was even riskier. And you were no stranger to games of deception. Devising devious stratagems was one of the first skills you acquired.

You feigned indifference and replied, “Fine. I’ll play make-believe with the boy with a death wish.”

Yuta failed to resist his snicker this time, but it was true. Bloodlust gained its name for a special reason. For over a decade they had climbed their way to the top and were successful because they had no mercy for those that crossed them. You had faith that this was going to end with Mark having a bullet put through his brain.

After all, he wouldn’t be the first. Just another casualty.

Ten smiled, satisfied. His smile was alluring though likely deceptive, although you expected nothing less from the head of Bloodlust’s criminal agents himself. You had a feeling he was the one that suggested cornering you. “Good. You’re probably already aware that I administrate the spy squad. You won’t be working for me per se, but Jaemin and I will serve as your resources.”

Jaemin was another high-rank, the hacker and leader of their general technology team. If you ever thought you had hid a file or record from him; think again. In all your years of working for Yuta, you had never even caught a glimpse of the man’s face in person. He could only be spotted somewhere with a signal yet caved away.

You left that room with a mission. Jaemin had ID’d Mark’s partner and sent you a full report on them. Lee Minhyung, twenty-three, one of the youngest in his division and yet one of the most accomplished. He had spent merely three months undercover to overthrow a drug empire, and now he was scouting the big shots. Lee Jeno, twenty-two, and fresh out of the training program. There wasn’t much on him, obviously, but according to his evaluations, he had ambitions and was following in Mark’s footsteps.

Frankly, you were impressed. The reason neither of them had been detected until now was because they signed up the rightful way. No one suspected anything was amiss because their department created fake ID’s and hid their authentic ones. Nothing that Jaemin couldn’t find, though.

Needless to say, you had your work cut out for you.

The next time you saw Mark Lee was at another street race event. According to Jaemin, Mark and his partner were fresh recruits and had only been present for a few days at best, though he had quickly decided that the races were his favorite hunting grounds.

For a cop, Mark was remarkably easy to spot in a crowd, but he was playing the criminal role well enough. He had red hair that burned brightly and dressed the flashy part. You had yet to see him without a Cuban link.

You approached him and greeted, “‘Sup, Markie.”

Mark raised a brow. “Markie?”

“Do you not like it?” you asked, smiling innocently. You inched in on him, but left a safe distance between you two. The last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable by invading his personal space. “How about Marco? Or Markus? Even better - Little Red Riding Hood.”

Mark snickered. “Markie is fine. Thank you, Tony Stark,” he quipped.

“MCU fan?”

“You bet.”

He genuinely piqued your interest at that. Maybe pretending to like him wouldn’t be so hard. You breathed, “I love you already.”

He laughed. Then concern washed over his face. “Hey, your face okay?”

“Yup,” you replied, giving him a thumbs up. “I got it checked out like you said. Nothing broken or fractured. It’s a little sore, but I’ll be good as new in a couple days.”

“You’re a tough cookie,” he complimented.

You chortled. “So I’ve heard.”

With a broad smile, Mark continued, “That was one hell of a punch you landed on that dude, though. Knocked the guy flat on the ground. Where’d you learn how to fight like that?”

Here came the invasiveness. You decided to be as vague as possible about your past - and current - gang affiliations. You shrugged. “The streets. Polished my skills in the fighting ring, though.”

“There’s a fighting ring?”

“Oh, no wonder I’ve never seen you around these parts before. You’re a total newbie,” you laughed, shaking your head.

“It’s only my fourth day out here,” Mark told you. Which was the truth. You were very unsurprised to find he was taken under the drug trafficking operation, which was ran by Jisung. “Yo, I never caught your name.”

You gave Mark your name, although you had a feeling he already knew. Jaemin and Ten were actively working together to uncover everything the unit had on you and the gang.

“I can show you the ropes,” you offered. Given where he stood, you knew those words alone had him hooked on you. It was safe to assume the drug empire was his primary, but offering him the gang’s additional means of money-making on a silver platter would have any officer’s mouth watering. “Take you on a tour. The gang has plenty of places to kill time while simultaneously making hella cash off of them.”

Mark’s eyes gleamed with intrigue. “Smart business. I might just take you up on that.”

“Bloodlust is all about smart business,” you remarked. Then, you began to do some prying of your own. It wasn’t all that risky to give up some of their territory, but everything came with a price. “Say - who did Boss put you under?”

“The Jisung guy. Drugs.” Mark shrugged. “Nothing major. They don’t trust newbies directly with the hardcore shit, and for good reason. But he told me that it’ll pay well, and if I stick around long enough, I can work my way up.”

Of course, it paid very well. No matter how low-ranking the position. They were trafficking illegal drugs and substances. It was one of their most lucrative branches.

You also hadn’t failed to notice how Mark mentioned that if he stayed long enough, he could work his way higher. That was common knowledge, though you doubted he was unaware of how problematic leaving a gang was. He had the prior experience, and even on his last mission he didn’t vacate the syndicate until he successfully seized the ranks. In other words, he wasn’t withdrawing until he had shot the entire gang down by its very heart and core.

Which was the inner circle.

That was a pressing reminder to keep your guard up. Though Mark seemed likable, it was very intentional. You knew he wouldn’t hesitate to persecute you to the highest extent of the law and you would maintain that same lack of mercy.

You played along, bobbing your head. “Met the boss yet?”

Mark shot you a wince. “Not formally. And I’ve heard around that the less I see of Lee Taeyong, the better. What’s up with that?”

“Taeyong likes to deliver his messages up close and personal,” you cautioned. “He only comes out if absolutely necessary. Getting a personal message from the big boss only happens if you’re going around wreaking havoc.”

“No warning?”

You smiled, but the sinister undertone in your voice was very evident, “If he sends anyone else but himself, that is a warning.”

You didn’t feel pressured to make your insinuations very subtle, because you were Mark’s only hope. The gangsters weren’t exactly inviting. They were very cynical, tight-lipped, and kept small circles because another one of the most important rules was confidentiality and they dreaded facing exposure.

For the most part, people who received direct messages from Taeyong didn’t make it out alive. For that reason, you did not underestimate Mark, but you were certain he had underestimated the gang. Even if you hadn’t discovered him yourself, they would have in approximately the same amount of time.

Mark showed no fear and kept the conversation light-hearted, but the glimmer in his eyes suggested he took that as a challenge. “Then, I’ll make sure to be on my best behavior.”

Liar, you scoffed. He was very much going to wreak havoc. He already had.

“You better. I’d hate to see a face like yours gone so soon,” you flirted, to which Mark grinned and cocked an intrigued brow. He was handsome, you had to give him that. Then, you decided to change the topic. “You like cars, Markie?”

He pretended to frown. “Is it obvious?”

“As far as I know, you’ve spent at least half your nights at these races. There has to be a reason,” you said, then resorted back to flirting, “Unless, you just come to look at me all night.”

“You are quite the extravaganza,” Mark played along, matching your energy. Much to your amusement. “I’m more of a bike guy, but I like anything shiny and nice.”

“We’re gonna get along just fine,” you quipped. “Wanna race?”

“For real?”

“For real,” you repeated, smiling. “They start in a little bit. You strike me as the type of guy that likes all things thrill and exhilaration.”

Mark broke into a tiny snicker. “Lucky guess. You any good?”

You shrugged. “Dunno. Guess that’s for you to figure out,” you teased. Then, began to make your escape. Granted, you knew he wouldn’t let you slip away so easily.

Mark, tantalized, trailed behind you. Hopping in a speeding car with someone as good as a stranger seemed rash, but he had a feeling that you knew what you were doing. Absolutely none of this was foreign to you.

Boy with a death wish was an apt description for Mark.

Upon your last-minute entry, you took him to the garage to pick up your ride. To say the least, Mark nearly dropped dead. The sight of your bright red Bugatti Chiron positively made him gape. “Holy shit,” he exhaled.

You giggled. “She’s hot, isn’t she?”

“Like hellfire. Aren’t these like, hella expensive?”

You bobbed your head. “She’s hell to repair. But my baby deserves the best.”

Mark continued to marvel. “Dude, you gotta let me drive one day.”

You laughed, amused, but for a completely different reason. Like hell you would let a cop take your car for a spin. It was outrageous enough that you permitted him to take the passenger seat.

Eventually you both went to line up for the races. Mark was still completely astonished, glancing around your two-seater with total awe and wonder. If you knew that you didn’t have to kill him, you would have found it very cute.

Yuta came by and stuck his head through the window aperture. Which were each rolled down as a safety measure. “You’re racing?”

“Yup,” you sang, smiling wildly. It had been a minute. And you figured that you needed some thrill in your life (unbeknownst to you, Mark was exactly that). “Meet my partner. Mark, meet this guy.”

Yuta rolled his eyes, then droned, “You two have fun.”

“Oh, trust me. Fun is guaranteed with me,” you replied with a wink.

Yuta glanced at Mark and quipped, “Run while you still can.” Then, he ran off.

“You can’t run now,” you said, making eye contact with Mark through the rear-view mirror. “We have a race to win.”

Mark grinned mischievously.

The flagger came into vision, preparing to launch the first race of the evening. You and Mark fastened your seatbelts, then you braced your hand on the steering wheel.

“Ready?” you asked, glancing to your side.

Mark bobbed his head. He seemed relatively relaxed for a first-timer. Honestly, you were beginning to wonder what all he had done in the name of the law. “Born ready.”

You revved the engine, watching the flagger count down with bated breath. Everything felt light. Adrenaline made your blood pump faster, your heart threatening to leap out your chest. This was it. That feeling that made life worth living.

Three, you muttered under your breath. Two, one. You gripped the wheel tighter. Then every nerve in your body chanted, Go, go, go!

And you slammed on the gas, bolting the car forward like lightning.

You sped like the devil. You were going nearly two-hundred miles per hour in a matter of ten seconds. The car roared underneath your fingertips and you knew you were driving a beast, one that had risen from the dead.

“Goddamn,” Mark raised his voice, speaking over the vicious winds that tousled your heads of hair. He was smiling, clinging to his seatbelt for dear life.

You shouted, “Hang on!” And you both accelerated.

You laughed, so carefree. Nothing else mattered when you were on the road and you quickly lost grip of everything that wasn’t the steering wheel clenched firmly between your fist. The road was the only thing capable of holding your attention, and you even occasionally forgot that Mark was beside you until you heard his exhilarated laugh. Every single thought you had left as quickly as it came. Moments were exactly that - moments. No fears, no worries, no nightmares. Just making it across that sweet finish line.

The feeling surging through your veins was inexplicable, but you knew that you weren’t alone in it. Mark could feel it, too. The rush overpowered any sense of threat and adrenaline made you forget what it felt like to breathe. At that moment, it was like breathing on the moon. Almost as if you didn’t need any air.

You wedged past this car and that, until you had made a great distance in front of them all. They were left in the dust.

“You feel that, Markie?” you asked, chest heaving out of pure, unadulterated fever. You could see that typical untamed gleam in his eyes, but heightened.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. And then he began to crack into a fit of hysterical laughter himself. “Yeah. I can feel it.”

The corners of your lips were in an unfaltering curve. “Let’s win this damn thing.”

Mark was grinning from ear to ear. Never had he ever felt so alive.

The climax of the race was your very favorite. Time lost its meaning and speed became inexhaustible. Air became scarce, as if there was no more left on earth. The tension throttled you and swallowed you whole. And heat reduced you to sweat and fighting breaths.

All you had was momentum, but that was of little threat to you. And Mark.

The distance between the car and the finish line decreased more and more and more. There was practically no one around you, but that didn’t ease your resolve. Resting was not an option until victory was yours.

Mark chanted, “Come on, come on.”

He wanted it as badly as you. If not more. There was nothing for him to gain out of this except experience and yet he seemed immensely content with that.

From the moment you crossed the finish line, time became a blur. All you knew was that you had won and you could feel the achievement in your veins. You only noticed that you were panting when you stepped out of the car, and the crowd flocked towards your vehicle.

“So, what do you think?” you asked Mark, sitting on the hood of your car. “Am I any good, Markie?”

Mark wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, then replied through thick breath, “I think you just gave me the time of my life. Thank you.”

You chortled. Damn right. “The pleasure is all mine.”

Someone cleared their throat and you turned to make eye contact with Lee Jeno. He looked directly at you without hiding his scorn when he spoke, “Sorry to interrupt, but Markie has to go now.”

You didn’t break eye contact with the boy, either, retorting, “Tell your dad that you don’t wanna go, Mark.”

Mark stifled a laugh. “I’m sorry, but I have to,” he said and hopped off the hood of your car. “Thank you for tonight, though. I’m holding you to your word from earlier.”

“I’ve never broken a promise,” you said. Then, you waved. “See’ya.”

Mark hugged you briefly, then bid you goodnight and faded in the crowd with his more than obvious partner.

And you went to pay yours a visit.

Given the hour, Ten was not pleased when you barged into his office, but before he could run his mouth, you shushed him with your finger.

Ten mouthed, “Did you just shush me…”

You removed an object out of your pocket and rested the item flat on his desk. It was a tiny, black wiretapping device. Clearly, somebody thought he was slick, though even in your fit of ecstasy, you were not off-guard.

From the expression he sported, Ten was highly amused by the flagrant audacity of this boy. There seemed to be a telepathic communication between you two, but just to be safe, he mouthed, “Play along.”

Ten said your name and began, “You’re late. Did you hear the news?”

You almost rolled your eyes, but very audibly pulled in the opposing chair to give the impression that you were here for a long, scheduled conversation. Then, you blew out a sigh and replied, “Yeah. Yuta told me Taeyong is considering shifting the gang to China. Damn feds too close on our tail.”

“Don’t fret. It’ll be a walk in the park. China makes up our secondary income - the ascendancy we have there is enough to start fresh.”

The little tale made you smirk. Bloodlust hadn’t branched out in China very much yet.

“I know, but Korea is the only home I’ve known,” you groaned.

Ten was very good at playing along with your bullshit and told you, “That was how I felt when I came to Korea from the States. Listen, you’re gonna be homesick as a bitch. But you won’t be alone and that’s what matters.”

If this was a genuine conversation, you would have been touched. “Thanks, Ten.”

Ten drummed his fist against the wall to mimic the sound of someone knocking on a door, then rose and said, “That must be him. Come on.”

The two of you stepped into the corridor. Where, obviously enough, nobody awaited either of you. Ten shut the door and moved a great distance away from his office before he decided you were both in the clear.

As soon as you were in private, both of you began to giggle. Ten quipped, “Sure you don’t wanna work for me?”

You snickered. “I’m more than content with Yuta, thank you.”

“I have to commend you for your performance back there,” Ten told you, sincere. “Most people wouldn’t have even caught that they were bugged. That could’ve been bad. It’s impressive.”

“Likewise,” you replied. It was in your best interest to steer Mark’s team off course, if possible. They’d learn one way or another to mind the business that paid them.

Ten grabbed a tiny stick-like item from his pocket and pressed a red button at the bottom end of the device.

You furrowed your brows. “What’s that?”

“Bug detector. Jaemin made it for me,” he told you. Then, a red light beamed from the device, and Ten scanned you from head to toe. After a brief moment, he said, “You’re in the clear. I’ll take care of the bug. Did you learn anything else tonight?”

You nodded. “He knows Taeyong is the leader. I let him ask most of the questions tonight, but I’ll have my turn later. I’m posing as a friend that’s going to show him around.”

“Take him where you want.” Ten glanced at his watch. “I expect more from you by the end of the week.”

“Yes, sir,” you replied. Obviously, he had somewhere to be. “Goodnight.”

Throughout the week, you and Ten continued to use the wiretapping bug to your advantage. Faking conversations, making up false plans about the future of the gang. It was, more or less, a taunt.

Just as Ten expected of you, you had additional information to deliver by Saturday morning. Mark was no easy task, but where his partner was concerned, you learned things easily. For one, most of your identities were definitely known. Jeno was not sparing with his disdainful glares whenever he came across high-ranks.

Much less you, for that matter. Which made you wonder exactly what role you played in this situation, but that was still inconclusive. You assumed it was because you had direct ties to the second-in-command, but you merely did his bidding. Which had nothing to do with the trafficking of illegal drugs.

And Yuta never let you in on the affairs of the gang. It simply never came up. It was none of your business and you didn’t care. As long as they protected you.

Either they had no clue what they were doing, or they were looking to make a very big bust.

The following Monday, you marched straight into housing clad in dolphin shorts and a white t-shirt and knocked on Mark’s door. Very relentlessly given it was two in the morning.

Mark yelled, “I’m coming!” from somewhere across the apartment. When he opened the door, he squinted, half-awake. But positive that he was dreaming. “How the hell…”

You snickered. “You aren’t very hard to find, Markie. This is where the newbies that don’t have their own place live - I would know. Boss gave me access to the housing info.”

“Stalker,” he snarled insincerely, voice husky. It did something to you, but you would never admit it.

Instead, you rolled your eyes. It was very ironic, all things considered. He was going out of his way to investigate you and your boss’ friends. “Yeah, yeah,” you said, inviting yourself in. “Hurry up and get ready. We’re going to the ring.”

Mark’s eyes widened. “Shit, right now?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Shit. Let me go brush my teeth and change.”

Glancing around the apartment, there was nothing immediately suspicious or out of the ordinary. Just slightly messy. It looked very lived in.

Less than fifteen minutes later, you and Mark were out the door and on the road. The late night and early morning breeze was very comforting. Just traveling lightly on the road while the sun was still down was one of your favorite things to do.

Mark spoke teasingly over the radio, “Do you barge into people’s houses and homes to go fight very often?”

Unabashedly, you giggled. “No, actually. But I am very notorious for walking around like I own the place. You’re lucky enough that I had no choice but to knock.”

“You mean, beat the door in.”

“Did not,” you countered.

“No, you did,” he said. “You probably woke up everybody else on the same floor.”

You smarted and retorted, “Please. They should come watch me kick your ass.”

Mark was very amused by your confidence. “I’m gonna make you eat those words, doll.”

“Hit me with your best shot.”

He took the challenge. “Loser buys breakfast?”

You grinned smugly. “You’re on.”

The road led you to some bar with an enormous flickering neon light that displayed the name of the establishment. Despite the late hour - and how shady the exterior of the building appeared - the parking lot wasn’t empty.

With your finger, you signaled for Mark to follow behind you and entered the bar. Much to Mark’s surprise, your attire fitted right in with the lack of crowd. Most were sweaty and gulping glasses of water at the bar.

Mark cocked a brow and said, “I thought we were going to the ring.”

“We are,” you responded, fighting a smile. The bartender didn’t spare either of you a glimpse when you led him behind the counter and through the double doors.

You were met with a tiny hallway. There was a kitchen door on one end, but you brought him towards the other. It seemed much more exclusive than the others, no double doors or easy access. You placed your finger on the biometric lock and it clicked open.

“Woah,” Mark gasped.

You giggled and went into the empty room with a ring in its center. In contrast to the others, it was dimly lit by beams of neon red lights. There was another bar at one end and chairs and tables arranged elsewhere. “The private fighting room,” you announced. “It’s only used by higher-ups and their associates.”

“I just thought of at least eight Fight Club jokes I could make right now and half of them have something to do with Tyler Durden.”

You shook your head. “You’re insufferable. You’d lose your mind if we owned a movie theater.”

Mark smiled bashfully. “Can I talk about this place?”

You glared. But ultimately couldn’t resist bursting into laughter.

“Come on,” you gestured, stepping inside the ring. And he followed suit.

After you both warmed up, you asked, “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Mark replied without hesitation, eyes burning with sheer confidence. “Gotta warn you, though - I have a blackbelt in taekwondo.”

He wasn’t lying. You remembered seeing something like that in his profile.

“Good for you. I have a blackbelt in kicking Mark Lee’s ass.”

Mark taunted, “I would like to see you try.”

You got into position, holding your arms in a prepared stance. “Don’t go easy on me, Markie. If you couldn’t tell, I like things rough.”

As usual, Mark merely gave you a grin of unadulterated mischief.

The first round played in your favor. It ran more like a practice round if anything - Mark was more focused on becoming accustomed with how you fought than winning. As a result, you knocked him clean out.

Though Mark decided in the next round that he wasn’t playing any games. He had taken mercy upon you before, going easy on you in spite of what you told him, but you knew by now that Mark had a penchant for challenges and loathed losing. You thought that you had him right where you wanted him, but by the end of the match, he had you right where he wanted you.

“I was wrong about you, Markie,” you gasped after tapping out and accepting defeat. “You striked me as a Mama’s boy. The ‘I’d never hit a girl’ type.”

“I love my mama,” Mark grinned. “And of course, I’d never. But you asked for it.”

Mark helped you to your feet and you lightheartedly threatened, “I’m snitching.”

“Whatever you say,” he taunted. “I see why they call you Scar and not Punch.”

In a flash of anger, you lunged at him, but Mark caught you by your wrist promptly. He cocked his head and said smugly, “Cheater. The final round hasn’t started yet.”

The way he stared down your soul unnerved you. It wasn’t typical of you to show fear - and you didn’t - but saying that you were unaffected by his every move would be a blatant lie. Though there was absolutely nothing sinister about Mark. Maybe it wasn’t him that you were scared of. Maybe it was how he made you feel.

That was more dangerous than any threat.

When the next round initiated, you fought like a beast that had emerged right out of hell. There was no way in hell that you would go down without a fight.

This final round was all the more intense. You were convinced that if you had any spectators, they’d be completely exasperated by the suspense. The both of you kept bouncing shy of one another.

It was akin to a seesaw of action. When Mark landed a hit, you landed one harder. When you were above, suddenly Mark knocked you back down again.

“This isn’t over until one of us taps out,” Mark said.

You shrugged. “I can go all night.”

“So can I.”

Neither of you were backing down, that much was clear. It seemed preposterous - getting worked up over an unofficial game - but you were competitive and Mark was ambitious. The most minuscule of things were still another bridge to be crossed to people like you, no matter the size.

You either won or you lost. It was one to one. This was the tiebreaker; the round that made or broke the game. You didn’t mind buying him breakfast, but there was also a part of Mark that was so goddamn insufferable and you would rather not satisfy that insatiable desire of his.

“If you want your victory, come and get it,” you taunted.

“Say less,” Mark said. Then swung.

Courtesy of your agility, you were able to move out of the way. It was better than giving him the opportunity to lay his hands on you, even if you blocked the hit. You learned very quickly that Mark could make you think he was doing one thing and wound up doing another.

You took your chances, not permitting him the chance to realize what you were up to before you danced around his figure and tackled him to the ground.

You straddled him and smirked, pinning his arms firmly above his head. You were very aware of what kind of position you were in, but you weren’t complaining. It felt like you were at your throne at the very top of the world from above Mark.

Mark eyed you down. “Someone’s been doing her homework.”

You clutched even tighter around his wrist the more he spoke. To which Mark grimaced and quipped, “Are you trying to crush my bones or jump them?”

You teased, “Is that what you were dreaming about before I woke you up, Markie?”

“Not quite,” he replied with a chuckle, then switched on a dime. He flipped you over, hovering over you as you lay flat on your back. Instead of pinning your hands above your head like you’d done to him, he went for your throat.

His grip was strong. It wasn’t tight enough to cause you any genuine harm, as if he didn’t intend to hurt you, but you felt as if he could have bruised your throat.

The worst part? You didn’t thoroughly despise the feeling.

Mark leaned directly into your ear, then growled, “Tap out and I’ll let go.”

Resisting, you brought your fingers to his arm, though you swore his grip became firmer the longer you stood your ground. Mark merely stared into your eyes as you began to gasp for air, holding onto breath for dear life.

The way he looked into them, it was almost as if he was searching for something. You supposed Mark wallowed in the look of vulnerability in your eyes, or the life leaving them, but it couldn’t have been as prominent as the bliss etched onto your face. “You’re enjoying this,” he remarked, showing even less mercy with his palms.

When you were on the verge of unconsciousness, you tapped Mark’s arm with your fingers. And only then did his grip loosen.

Mark shook his head when you began to laugh. “You’re fucking crazy.”

Chest heaving, you replied, “I’ve heard that one before. Try harder.”

“You’re a fucking minx,” Mark taunted, voice dropping another octave. “But you know that too - don’t you?”

A provocative smile crept across your face. “I swear I don’t do it on purpose, Markie.”

There was a whirlwind of thoughts rippling around your brain as Mark leaned dangerously close to you. Heat flared through your body in place of your typical cold blood. You seemed to internally debate yourself, but it wasn’t as if you ever had very much of a conscience.

“Do it, Mark. Do it,” you chanted. From the pensive expression he sported, you were confident that half the thoughts in his head were temptingly screaming the same thing.

Mark steered out of his tiny reverie and began, “That guy - Yuta. He’s not your boyfriend?”

You burst into laughter that was on the brink of hysterical. “You’re kidding,” you said. But when Mark showed you no sign of toying, instead stern, you added, “Please. I love Yuta and I’m forever indebted to him, but I’d rather choke on my own blood than date him.”

That was all Mark needed to hear. “Say less.”

In the time that it took for him to close the tiny gap between the two of you, the last of Mark’s reluctance met its end. His mouth crashed against yours in haste, and you moved in a heated sync, swallowing each other’s tongues.

The taste of him drowned out the rest of the world. You forgot that Mark was a predator and you were his prey. You forgot that you were supposed to hunt him down. Each of your limbs tensed tautly with want and your will for pleasure made light work of your senses. You were enthralled by how well of a kisser he was.

Someone you used to know once told you that sex was a tool, love was a poison; combining the two was a one-way ticket to death. All of which slipped your mind completely as you involuntarily began to rasp your hips against his.

Mark grunted so lowly that you were at the brink of succumbing to insanity right then and there.

It was like Mark existed solely to tease the living hell out of you. Being a thorn in your side was what he thrived on. He kept slithering his hand up your thigh, just shy of where you needed him, and you did not miss the smug little grin on his face when you groaned in complaint.

You pulled away from his lips and warned, “Don’t tease me.”

Predictably, Mark was not alarmed. Your threats were of little substance to him. “Dunno, doll. It’s kinda fun to watch you get all worked up.”

Deciding to take matters into your own hands, you grabbed Mark’s wrist and slipped it down your shorts. You made a tiny noise when his fingers brushed over your clothed cunt, then purred, “Feel that, baby? Could be all yours if you stopped playing games.”

And with that, Mark was sold.

The both of you ran suspiciously out of the bar. You willed yourselves not to touch each other in front of anyone’s prying eyes, but the way you rushed out said enough.

You decided on going to Mark’s place. There was nothing to hide at yours because you refused to bring work home with you, but your address was sensitive information. Sleeping with someone never prevented them from betraying you and nor did it invoke an unbendable bond to be broken in the first place.

But the moment you stepped inside Mark’s apartment, it was game over. You couldn’t stay away from one another, stumbling over his belongings as you made out while stripping along the way to his bedroom and leaving a trail of clothes in your wake.

You wondered exactly how long this desire had been pent up. Maybe you suppressed it out of priority for your jobs, but it had expanded into something unignorable now. The tiny sparks became a full-fledged forest fire.

Mark pushed your naked figure against his mattress and gave your now-naked body a once-over. “I never realized how many tattoos you have,” he rasped.

There was also a huge scar on your stomach. He had caught glimpses of it during your fight, but the full sight made him curious. Alas, now wasn’t the time to ask questions.

“Mm,” you hummed, stifling a giggle. “If you do a good enough job, I might tell you the stories behind them.”

“Then, I hope you’re ready to talk,” he said confidently.

You arched a brow. “You talk a big game, but aren’t showing me what you’re made of.”

Mark gripped your thighs apart and at the sight of your dripping cunt, he growled, “Just watch. You’re going to be a mess by the time I’m done with you.”

Before you could offer another retort, Mark pushed his head between your legs and began to have at it.

A little sigh eased past your throat when you felt his tongue lap at your folds. His mouth was warm against the flesh, heat spreading in waves throughout your body and core. You willed yourself to keep your reactions to a minimum, not wanting to give Mark the satisfaction of seeing you at your very worst.

Eyeing him from the bed, you basked in the sight of him devouring you like a five-star meal. Your arms were propped by his pillows very comfortably. You watched him swallow you whole, his veins becoming taut as his grip on your upper legs became ruthless and his wavy red hair tickled your plush thighs.

You were in heaven, needlessly to say. Mark sucked at you without a shred of mercy. No matter how much you liked a boy, you never tended to keep your expectations as high as your standards when it came to bedroom performance and going down on you, but Mark was full of surprises. True to his word, you were somewhat certain that at this rate, you would be a mess by the time that he was finished with you.

“Fuck,” you mewled when he started to lick and suck at your clit.

Mark smirked against your folds. He was going to be the death of you.

Each of your attempts to remain quiet were defiled by your more than loud moans, though you couldn’t bring yourself to be bothered. It was as if Mark knew exactly how to push your buttons (and which buttons to press).

Meanwhile, Mark’s mind was ablaze with thoughts of you. The sight of your body would be indefinitely etched behind his eyelids. Your intricate tattoos that told various tales across your perfect skin, and your plush thighs that tensed whenever he brushed your clit.

You could feel your pulse throbbing in your core. Your thighs trembled, your hips involuntarily moving against Mark’s mouth to derive as much pleasure as possible. It seemed desperate, but you were reduced to fire and bones in no time at all. All you knew how to do was ravage everything in your course to feed your flame. And Mark was hellbent on ravaging you.

You clutched Mark’s hair and cried out, “Mark.”

He seemed to rejoice in how utterly responsive and reactive you’d become, unable to defy your body’s demanding urges. It was impossible. And your reactions only fed him, spurring him on to milk you completely dry.

You swore you felt nothing but sheer thrill. It was comparable to the high you received from racing. The way nothing else mattered, and all your focus was so centered on one particular thing that you couldn’t think of anything else. You were enticed by danger and entrusting Mark with power over your body was a great enough threat.

Mark was way too attracted to everything about you. Tasting you and watching you lose your grip of control on his tongue only amplified that allure with the addition of arousal. To hell with his job if it meant that he could spend one more moment with you in his mouth.

Maybe he was attracted to danger, too. You and danger tended to go hand in hand, but so did danger and his lifestyle. There was a reason why he wasn’t afraid of you.

“Just like that, baby. Oh my god,” you moaned, angling your head back. For the sake of your pride, you tried to desperately cling to whatever remained of your sanity, but Mark was resolved on unraveling you.

Your sounds became louder and Mark discerned that you were on the verge of release. If you hadn’t awakened his neighbors when you gave his door hell earlier, they were certainly now contemplating filing noise complaints.

Mark separated himself from you ever so briefly and growled, “Come on, doll. Do it for me.”

The little pet name never invoked much thought from you. You assumed he wanted compensation for the nickname you’d dropped on him, and thus let it slide. But in that moment, it made you weak - and you loathed pet names.

This was going to bring it home. Every nerve in your body was tense and uptight. Your fingers and toes tingled with the threat of release, heat spasming in your core and the palms of your hands.

You climaxed in a fit of unadulterated pleasure, tightening your grip on Mark’s red locks and convulsing by reflex. You practically curled in on yourself, every bit of you clenching emptily as fervor shot through your body. Mark didn’t grant you the mercy of letting you ease through your climax, unrelenting as he continued to suck and lick at your pussy ruthlessly.

Mark brought you to a second orgasm in half the amount of time it took to achieve the first one, and only then did he crawl away and let you breathe. You heaved shallow breaths, blinking through the rise and fall of your chest. Never had you felt anything so intensely. You were milked completely dry.

Mark didn’t comment, but his words were heavy through the signature glimmer in his eyes. And smile tugging the corners of his lips. “So, am I getting that bedtime story?”

You replied through heavy breaths, “Take your pick.”

He snickered.

Mark licked his lips and thus your arousal from his mouth. You shot up and straddled him, wasting little time in sucking at his neck. Mark shook his head. “Jesus, woman. Do you rest?”

Stifling a laugh, you purred, “I regenerate quickly.”

That didn’t surprise Mark in the slightest. He could have guessed. “Good to know.”

Pressing kisses to his neck, you began to rock against his hips, feeling his hard cock through the confines of his underwear. You anchored yourself on his shoulders and teased, “Shouldn’t we do something about this problem of yours?”

Mark angled his head back. “Fuck, yeah,” he groaned.

You pushed his chest down in a successful attempt to knock him backwards and his back met the mattress. But the kisses never ended, and you found it nearly impossible to tear yourself from his skin. Until you felt him involuntarily thrust against your hips, needy.

“Patience,” you sang. Granted, you didn’t have much of your own, either. The way he brought you to another world and back only moments ago had you desperate to recreate the feeling.

You lifted your purse off of the nightstand not too out of reach from you and retrieved a condom. For good reason, you figured Mark wouldn’t have any.

Mark cocked a brow. “You keep those on you?”

Of course, you did. You preferred to be safe over sorry. Not to mention that your hookup who shall not be named tended to forget them. Deliberately. You subconsciously smirked. “Mind the business that pays you,” you murmured, dragging his underwear down his ankles. And fitting the condom over the head of his cock.

You and Mark let out a simultaneous noise of bliss as you rolled onto him. His hands found purchase at your hips while yours pressed featherly against his stomach. You took him inch by inch, leisurely making your way down as your cunt opted to easily swallow him whole.

Mark nearly lost his mind being engulfed by your heat. His fingertips dug almost painfully into your waist for mental anchor, supporting himself with all his might. For goodness sake, you were so tight. It didn’t help that you still leaked with arousal from your previous two orgasms, even more sensitive from them. The moment you were snug around his cock, he felt you clench.

“Mm, Mark,” you moaned, rocking against him at your own pace. You took the lead, following your own rhythm and Mark didn’t have it in him to stop you. Hell, not that he wanted to.

This was, for lack of a better word, a very bad idea. But neither of you seemed to care. It felt forbidden - doing as much as even thinking about each other so lecherously, but that was half the fun. Neither of you could restrain the lascivious thoughts that ran rampant through your minds when you caught a glimpse of your naked bodies or heard a lewd noise.

The other half, of course, was the actual fucking.

And when Mark heard you call out his name, it took all his willpower to not finish himself right then and there. Not Markie - Mark. He steered dangerously close to release at the mere sound of your honey-like voice.

Mark found it in himself to tease, “Enjoying yourself up there?”

“Like a queen on her throne,” you retorted.

He certainly made you feel like royalty, that was for sure. You felt worshiped by his tongue. Now, you were at reign over his body. And all Mark could do was lie there and behold you as if you were a royal immortal deity.

There was a moment that passed where he considered throwing it all away for you without a second thought. You were a lethal weapon of temptation; that Mark knew, yet he was disposed to capitulate to you. As if you’d lulled him into a fatal trance with the very grace of your body alone.

Though your every move was unpredictable, Mark didn’t know what to expect when you leaned closely to his neck. But it certainly wasn’t for you to bite at the skin. He let out an embarrassing whine at the feeling of your teeth leaving marks and tiny remnants of you on his throat.

You arched a brow. Then, teased, “Whine for me again, Mark.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled.

Your lips brushed ever so gently against his and you tauntingly whispered, “Make. Me.”

As aforementioned, Mark was comprised of surprises. His hands rose from your waist to your bouncing tits and he thrusted up, achieving a whimper of surprise from you.

He smirked at the way your face tensed with pleasure and your fingers grasped his biceps for dear life. “Holy fuck,” you cried, clinging to him as if you’d sink into the pits of the earth otherwise. He kept fucking you from below, watching you intently as he admired his handiwork with complacency.

He sneered, “Whine for me again, doll.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed.

Mark snickered. Now where had he heard that before?

The softest of moans parted your lips as Mark fondled with your breast and his hands eventually rose, fingers clawing around your throat. He missed seeing that look in your eyes. The one of air depleting itself from your lungs and the blood circulation ceasing to flow and the pleasure sparkling a tiny gleam.

You satisfied his urges, face blanching the longer he held his grip. And the tighter. Mark very much could have done as he pleased with you, but you knew he’d never let this go too far. Just enough to have you at the verge of blacking out.

Although you were remotely dizzy when he released you from his clutch, you liked it. You never quite noticed it before, but there was a fiery gleam in Mark’s eyes when he choked you. Something sinister. There was an animal in him that had gone dormant for far too long and you’d finally aroused the beast.

And you were the only one to date that had seen it and didn’t flee.

The two of you were dangerously close to climax. With how close in proximity your bodies were - combined by every thrust and grind - there was no way on earth either of you couldn’t tell. You began to rasp your hips against his cock in a vigorously synchronized motion, desperate for the heat of the friction that made you tingle. Piece by piece, you were breaking into rupture.

Mark was no better. Just looking at you had him dangling over the edge. Dangerously. It would only take one little slip before he fell depthlessly into a pit of you that seemingly had no top and no bottom. Just you, only you.

“Let go for me, doll,” Mark ordered softly, trying to coax you into an orgasm. “You’ve been doing so good for me.”

His mouth and hands knew no boundaries when it came to your body. They roamed you, his tongue slithering around your nipple and his hands roughly finding purchase on your ass. You were also very sensitive in areas where your tattoos lived, he learned, and used that knowledge to his advantage. Mark was single-handedly going to destroy you.

“Let go,” he sang again, gentle and tempting.

You began to tighten around him involuntarily. It was coming. “I’m…”

Mark held you firmly. “Cum for me, baby. I’ve got you.”

You saw stars when you came for the third time, orgasm hitting you in full force. It was nothing short of intense. You clamped around Mark, walls tight around him as well as your grip on his biceps. Your thighs shuddered with climax, and a shrill cry erupted from your lips.

Mark grunted, “Fuck.” The feeling of you pulsing around him undoubtedly sent him down a similar fate. His hands fell to your hips and held them to the point of bruising.

After you rode out the rest of your high, you slacked. You lied against his warm chest, feeling him breathe rapidly as you desperately clung to your own breath.

“Do you feel okay?”

“I feel great,” you heaved. “Do you wanna stop?”

Mark faintly smiled at how much endurance you had. “Nope.”

You rode Mark until sunrise.

When both of you roused again, the clock had already ticked past noon. You made room for another, much lazier round, and settled for brunch instead of breakfast.

Then you split and went your own separate ways. You waltzed straight into Bloodlust’s headquarters. Given you were channeling all of your focus into this Mark mission, your schedule was indefinitely clear of all else. Which left you with leeway to choose someone to vex.

You stepped into Yuta’s office without knocking, yet before you could get a word out, he barked, “Did you come here to tell me that you’re sleeping with the enemy?”

Blinking, you resisted a frown. And said nonchalantly, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Lying to a high-rank. Wrong move. And also impossible to get away with.

Yuta shook his head, scowling. “Jisung said that he saw you both running out of The Lion’s Den. Disorderly. And something told him it wasn’t because of a fight.”

Park Jisung, when I get my hands on you, you bristled inwardly. You never did get along with that boy. On more than one occasion, you had to be separated so that you wouldn’t kill each other.

You rolled your eyes and sat across from your boss. With light humor, you replied, “Please. If anything, I have Mark right where I want him.”

“Don’t walk into a trap,” Yuta warned.

Traps were laid by people like you, not the opposite. You were many things and stupid was not one of them. Just another casualty, you told yourself. That’s all Mark was. You refused to allow him to become anything more. “If you’re done, I have something. Mark thought that I was your girlfriend - what if that’s the connection? He’s using me to get to you.”

“That’s possible,” Yuta sobered. “But he would have to know that you wouldn’t snitch on your lover. I’d kill both you and him with my bare hands.”

“Terrifying,” you deadpanned. “Has Ten or Jaemin been able to get in?”

Yuta gave a shake of his head and drawled, “Nope. They’ve got that unit on lock. Apparently drugs are super sensitive information.”

Blowing out a breath, you turned pensive. They were hiding something, obviously. You were half-tempted to march up to Mark and demand he tell you everything he knew, but it was too risky of a move. Though it wasn’t like he had gotten many leads through you, and there had to be something keeping him joined at your hip.

But what?

At first, you considered that maybe you’d given away more than you realized, yet nothing you told him was incriminating enough to arrest anyone with a drug trafficking charge. Hell, if that was the case, Jisung would have led you all to demise already.

“I can hear your gears turning. Stop thinking,” Yuta quipped, steering you out of your reverie. He could never stay mad at you - or serious - for very long. “Listen, babe. Just keep him at bay. If we make no progress, we’ll bring out the extremes. Everything will be perfectly fine.”

You nodded. “Perfectly fine,” you repeated.

Everything was not perfectly fline.

During the past couple of weeks, things had taken a sharp turn between you and Mark. You intended to leave him for dead after that first hookup, yet the more time you spent together, the more each of you burned with lust.

And so it happened again. And again. And you lost track of how many times you’d slipped away to fuck Mark and suck on his tongue.

Of course, the quality of the sex never declined. You were both pleased and enraged at the fact that Mark had range. Every time you both hooked up, the only thing that stayed consistent was the want that shot through your core. For fuck’s sake, he just had to be a man of variety.

In a nutshell, you were completely fucked.

There was an event at the gang’s casino and you snagged Mark as your date. As if anyone else would risk it. You were the only one crazy enough to personally involve yourself with a cop.

Which, you tried to erase from your memory. There would come a day where he’d try to send you away in cuffs. And you’d have to kill him before he got the chance.

You shivered at the thought.

“You clean up nice,” you commented when you came to pick him up.

Mark was dressed very pleasantly. The red hair was a stark contrast to the fancy black suit and trousers he sported, though given the semi formal occasion, he abandoned the frivolous style and opted for a neater hairdo. You were approximately three seconds away from forgetting about the goddamn casino altogether.

Similarly, you wore a red gown that flowed down your legs, hair styled elegantly and your face beat. Casinos were very much not your scene, and underneath the dress you kept an armed and poised gun resting ungrudgingly inside of the leather holster at your thigh.

“Thank you, m’lady. You’re very beautiful,” Mark replied, taking hold of your fingers and kissing the back of your hand gently.

You grinned. Then began to snicker when you noticed your heels gave you a couple more inches of height on him.

Mark cocked a brow. “What’cha laughing at?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Obviously, Mark didn’t believe you in the slightest. Though he said nothing, instead leading you to the elevator. “I’m driving,” he told you, leaving absolutely no room for argument.

You furrowed your brows when you saw your keys in his palm. “When the hell did you get those?”

Mark grinned smugly and jiggled the keys. “You should pay more attention.”

You were absolutely affronted. There was no way in hell Mark Lee had caught you off-guard. You folded your arms across your chest and Mark snickered, then pressed a little kiss to your neck to placate you.

As you slipped out of the elevator and into the lobby, you quipped, “Make sure to drive the speed limit and not the speedometer limit.”

Mark opened the door for you, yet retaliated, “You’d know a lot about driving over the speed limit, wouldn’t you?”

“Shush,” you mumbled, fighting a smile.

“I believe the correct answer is ‘Thank you, gentleman.’”

You hardly leaned off of your heels when you swayed towards Mark, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips and purring, “Thank you, gentleman.”

Mark clamped his arm around your waist and said, “Much better.”

There was a grand casino connected to the hotel that the gang owned. They never invested in anything unprofitable. The building was sky-scraping and vivid in the dimming indigo night, its gold exterior oriented to attract the attention of men and women of means. Courtesy of the supplementing hotel, it had valet parking.

As expected, the sight was nothing short of breathtaking. A large glimmering chandelier hung at the front entrance. There were even tinier ones the further you voyaged across the long red carpet, hanging on the sunken ceiling. You were surrounded by tall pillars and arrays of staircases and even the air felt different inside the casino. It was more or less a very marvelous labyrinth of money.

Mark whistled. “Snazzy. You know what this reminds me of?”

“What?”

“Vegas, baby. Vegas!”

You narrowed your eyes. You didn’t want to know what his Letterboxd account looked like. Or introduce him to one, for that matter. Leaning into his chest, you asked, “Ever been?”

“Once. It’s very beautiful.” Just like you, he was tempted to add, but he didn’t want to come off cheesy. “I should take you there one day.”

Mark was a little too good at toying with your heart for your liking. Both of you knew very well that a future with you together did not exist.

And yet your mind blinked with images of you and Mark in Las Vegas. Him showing you around the sin city. Wandering the streets in each other’s arms, laughing and marveling at its beauty with heartfelt awe. You saw his dumb face and his stupid smile and knew that you were over.

After a bit of walking, the two of you finally found yourselves amongst the rest of the gang. The occasion was nothing special; for the most part, they were discussing deals with other groups and further things you didn’t get paid enough to be concerned about. You saw Qian Kun and knew to make a run for it. He saw everything from a business perspective, which was great for the gang - and your paycheck - but agonizingly boring.

And then, you ran into Park Jisung and instantly knew that you should have stayed home.

Sternly, you greeted, “Jisung.”

“You,” Jisung icily greeted, less than pleased to see you.

“I have a name, you know,” you reminded with a scowl.

Jisung didn’t hesitate and shot, “And I’d rather not stain my tongue by saying it.”

“You son of a…”

Mark growled in your ear, “Behave.”

Jisung raised his brow when you switched on a dime and rather quickly composed yourself. Where was this guy when he was having a heated quarrel with you for the umpteenth time? Shutting you up on command? He doubted even Yuta had that kind of power over you.

Worst of all, he didn’t know if that was a blessing or a curse.

“I have to speak with her,” Jisung said, refusing to say your name. Then added, “Alone.”

Mark angled towards you. “Will you be okay?”

Absolutely not. The last time you had a one on one conversation with Jisung, one of you nearly died. It was certainly not a great idea to leave you alone together.

But something told you to nod.

Mark, skeptical, pressed, “You’re going to be good, right?”

“Very classy,” you retorted, despite wanting to be literally anywhere else. You hoped whatever Jisung had to say was of significant value. For him to willingly speak to you, it had to be life-threatening. “I’m going to have a civil conversation with my peer like the two adults that we are.”

“Okay,” Mark replied with scrunched brows, still hesitant. “I’ll be over there with Jeno.”

Throwing both you and your less than lovely coworker another glance, Mark parted and left you to fend for yourself.

As soon as Mark was a safe distance away, Jisung immediately said, “I wouldn’t trust him if I were you.”

Your face immediately puzzled. “What makes you think I trust him?”

Jisung laughed in your face. “Are you for real? For one, you’re fucking. Don’t deny it because I saw you running out of The Lion’s Den, and I know what people who eagerly want to fuck each other look like. I see the way you look at him.”

“Are you worried about me, Jisung?” you quipped. You refused to pay any heed to what he was insinuating. Let alone accept it.

Jisung scoffed, “No. I’m worried about you jeopardizing the future of this gang.”

“That’s rich,” you said, crossing your arms. And trying to identify the cleanest way to insult him. “It wouldn’t be a singlehanded error. You’re literally incriminating us by having him under the drug branch in the first place. You guys let two cops in and didn’t even notice. The only words I should be hearing from you are ‘thank you.’”

“Stop. You’re deflecting, as usual,” he sighed. “Just like the brat mouth you are.”

Instead of giving him a seething response, you gritted your teeth. And bit your tongue. Literally. At some point, you decided he was no longer worth your wasted breath.

Which Jisung noticed and added, “See? I can tell he has a heavy grip on you. This is the first time you’ve ever held your tongue talking to me.”

You had an argument ready to fire, but stopped dead in your tracks when you realized that he was right. Why hadn’t you told Jisung off in vulgar terms yet?

No. It didn’t mean a thing. There was absolutely nothing to it other than you coming to your senses and realizing that bickering with Jisung was - and always had been - utterly pointless. He was obstinate and even after hours of debate, you wouldn’t be anywhere much further than where you started.

Never had you answered to anyone. In spite of working for other people, they knew that you marched to beat of your own drum. There were some traits of yours that were nonnegotiable and they’d either have to accept it or cut you loose.

Ever since you were an infant, you’d carried a reputation. Hell, maybe even before then. You had been called many things in such a short lifetime and an untamable lost cause was likely the least hurtful of them all. Nobody ever believed that anyone as wild as you could be salvaged from the destruction you’d inflicted upon yourself. And hence you began to believe it yourself.

This was the only life that you’d known. It was one where you had no option but to fend for yourself and isolate yourself from the world out of self-preservation. How the hell were you supposed to know how to react to someone sneaking their way inside and making you see life through a different lense?

You had seen so much in your years that you falsely believed that you were numb to fear. But you had never been so scared of something before; change.

You forced yourself to say, “Have a good night, Jisung.” And made a beeline for Mark. The walls of the enormous building were suddenly beginning to close in on you and you felt as if there was no air in a room full of space.

“I need a breather,” you said to Mark, interrupting his conversation.

Mark gave Jeno a glance, then took your fingers in his and asked, “Where to?”

“The rooftop,” you replied lightly, feeling drained and you’d only just got here.

The two of you stopped by the bar and downed a glass of hard liquor before you made your way to the rooftop. There was an elevator with calming music that brought you to the very top of the building.

You decided that you preferred the rooftop as soon as you stepped onto the terrace. It was lit by purple neon lights and void of people, and the air felt fresh and inhalable. Like a breath of fresh air. There were sofas with tiny tables crammed in between scattered about the floor and even further were glass railings that overlooked the entire shining city.

Even at night, the city was never dead, busy with bustling roads and brightly lit structures. You were certain that that was when it came to life.

Mark embraced you in a back hug and you swore time slowed down. But did your heart always beat this fast when he touched you?

“Talk to me,” Mark exhaled, breathing tickling the back of your neck.

You let his touch warm you. It was a great contrast against the chill breeze that swept over the roof at this elevation. “About what?”

“Anything. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

I like you, you said to yourself. And I’m scared because I don’t know what to do.

You shook your head. “How about I kiss you instead?”

“You could have just said that you want to kiss me,” Mark murmured.

Lightheartedly, you admitted, “I want to kiss you so bad, Mark Lee.”

Mark laughed and whirled you around, pinning you against the nearby wall and meeting his lips to yours. It all happened so fast - just like everything else between you two. Everything lasted both for a second and in perpetuity.

He kissed you until you were stripped bare and empty of every last thought. It felt like magic. How he gained the remedy to instantly put you at ease was a mystery, but you didn’t wonder. You just kept sipping from his poison and inhaling the toxins. There was no hope for you anymore. Mark was withering you away and you were simply letting him.

This was wrong on so many levels and yet you never let that stop you. There were no boundaries. You both took what you wanted and you took what you needed without giving any fucks about who didn’t like it. Desperately did you want to believe that nothing would come between you two.

You bit Mark’s lip and he groaned, nails digging into your waist. Which then prompted a tiny noise to part from your own lips. You were a parallel set of actions. It was strange; you didn’t fight for superiority, you fought to be even and equal.

There was something different in the kiss after you bit Mark. As if he’d been injected with an animalistic venom. The tempo increased and you fought to keep up with his every move, moaning into his lips as his tongue let loose inside of your mouth. His grip got even tighter, as if he was holding you to keep you to himself and himself only. There was no where else that you would run. As ironic as it was, you felt safest in Mark’s arms. He was the haven you never had.

Then, you heard a noise. You discerned that Mark heard it too, because he pulled away instantly and caged you behind him defensively. And your heart warmed at the gesture, though you needed no savior.

You sighed and pulled your gun from your holster, calling out, “You’ve got until the count of five to come out because if I have to find you my goddamn self, I’ll blow your brains. One. Two. Three…,”

At the third count, Jeno emerged from behind one of the chairs, gun drawn.

You began to snicker and waved him off. “Oh, put that damn thing down. Hit the road, Jack. And don’t let me catch you again.”

Jeno begrudgingly made a move for the door, not failing to cast you an ugly glare before his glance shifted to Mark, who started at his partner bemusedly. He left without a word.

You glanced up at Mark. “Why was your friend spying on us?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” Mark said, tone full of genuine perplexity.

You furrowed your brows. If Jeno was spying on you and Mark without either of your knowledge, what did that mean?

Maybe he didn’t know what was happening between you and Mark.

With a shake of your head, you grabbed Mark’s hand and led him to the glass railing. And he followed you like a moth to light. You propped your arms against the cool glass and called out, “Mark.”

“Hm?” came Mark’s response from right beside you.

You reluctantly tasted the words on your tongue before you asked, “What was your childhood like?”

“I was born under a bridge,” Mark deadpanned. To which you snorted and nudged his side. “But nah. I didn’t have much growing up. My mom got hooked on drugs real bad and she couldn’t take care of me and my brothers, so we moved in with our aunt. She did the best she could to make ends meet, but you know how that shit works. Whole time, my cousin was on the streets. Made a gang. I followed in his footsteps close enough.”

“What happened for you to wind up here?” you asked, listening with interest.

Mark’s face was impassive. “He’d kill me if he saw me right now.”

As vague as that answer was, you understood perfectly.

There was irony in his story. He was a gang member, then became a cop? Though you were aware that he could have legally lied to you as much as he so pleased, you believed that he was sincere. You learned by now that Mark’s eyes said more than his words ever could.

“What about you?” Mark asked. He wasn’t looking at you, eyes trained to the big city before him, but you knew his ears were ready. “How’d you get here?”

“Fasten your seatbelt,” you joked. Mark had already heard bits and pieces of your life via the stories of some of your tattoos, but this was full screen. “I think I’ve been a demon from hell before I even walked the earth. According to what I’ve heard, my family was against my mother having me. There was a huge stigma that came with having a baby at a young age and without a present father figure. She died during the delivery.”

“I’m sorry,” Mark said sullenly.

You shook your head and continued, “Water under the bridge. It doesn’t get better. I’ve been called a killer since the day I was born. It only made sense that I became one. They said that’s all I was, so I ran and turned to the streets and found a new home. I was in and out of gangs and had several sketchy jobs.”

Mark bobbed his head, listening intently.

“There was one gang I thought I would last in. The one I was in before I joined Bloodlust. I even dated one of the members, but he got violent on me one day. I killed him out of self defense. And I got scared, because I knew I couldn’t come back to the gang after that. The leader would kill me.”

“Is that when you joined Bloodlust?”

You bobbed your head. “Remember when I told you that I’m forever indebted to Yuta? That’s because he saved my life. Took me under his wing and gave me another job and somewhere safe to stay. That’s why we’re so close.”

“Jesus Christ,” Mark said, taking it all in. “You’ve been through hell and back.”

“You’re telling me,” you groaned.

Peace was not a word of any value to you. You’d never known what it felt like. The only thing you knew was survival. It was kill or be killed; hunt or be hunted. Life, in your definition, was a series of bad options and choosing the one that was the least loathsome.

After all, you did what you could to live another day. It was never easy, but you learned everything you knew about survival through those everyday choices. You fought for your life every goddamn day and knew nothing different.

It was a battle of strength that required all of your willpower to not succumb.

You blinked when Mark pulled you into a hug. He enjoyed talking to you. Life as either of you’d known it was a bitch, but getting to know you and all you’d been through brought you closer. And all he wanted to do was hold you underneath the moonlight and ease the pain of your scars.

For the most part, the inner circle knew your history, though not from an emotional perspective. The only people you’d ever given an emotional account to were Yuta and now Mark. Yuta was firm on assuring you that yesterday would no longer matter if you worked for him, but Mark made you feel less alone.

Mark was clawing you out of your armor and defenses. You were stripped bare and vulnerable. There was still so much left unseen and for you to explore in this life.

The two of you chatted the night away below the depthlessly starry sky and above the bustling city. You talked about everything under the sun and moon while being sure to share a kiss or two in between. It made you realize that in such a large world, you and Mark were simply two people with a story to share.

But as the time ticked away, the kisses became more frequent and more passionate. You became less interested in the casino and more enamored with Mark. Somewhere along the line your self-restraint snapped into two, and you found yourselves calling it a night and reserving a room at the hotel.

It wasn’t any less lavish than the casino. Especially not the suite you booked. There was a hot tub in the room and a balcony extended out the side with yet another picturesque view of the city.

Plus, it was a one-bedroom with a single bed.

Mark sat at the edge of the mattress and you wasted no time in straddling his lap and meeting your lips to his. It felt like an adventure. The wild and reckless and lethal type.

You could savor him on you even after. And it was the burning longing to taste Mark again that ultimately brought you three steps forwards and two steps back.

Mark pulled away, guilt-ridden, and reminded, “I’m a cop.”

He didn’t know how he expected you to respond, but you didn’t flinch. Like you already knew and you couldn’t care less. You offhandedly replied, “I know,” and endeavored to kiss him again.

Mark held you in place. His expression turned stern and you blew out an exasperated sigh. You were lightyears away from being ready to have this conversation. “So, you’re sleeping with the enemy.”

“I know. But so are you.”

“I know,” Mark said. Lord, did he know.

“Then,” you began, moving for his neck instead and uttering your words in between tiny pecks and nibbles. “We have nothing to talk about.”

Mark angled your bodies and pinned you down - as if that would stop you - and countered, “We have a lot to talk about.”

Frustrated, you incredulously groaned, “You want to talk about how I’m gonna have to put a round of bullets in your brain in the near future while I’m trying to fuck you?”

Mark scoffed, “You mean, I’m gonna have to hand you in cuffs to the police.”

“I’d like to see you try,” you taunted. It would have been in your best interest to be very careful about what you wished for, though you knew Mark would never. You refused to believe that.

Mark shook his head, laughing. As if he’d read your mind and wholeheartedly agreed that the thought was absurd. “You know I’m crazy about you, right?”

“Prove it.”

Mark leaned down to kiss you for a half of a second, then whispered in your ear, “I will.”

Then, he switched on a dime, and all of the heat and passion of his desire overcame him again.

You were fucking with a Leo; you should have known that you were in for the most wild ride of your life.

Void of patience, Mark clawed at your clothes roughly. You had the whole night, but he stripped you away as if you had only minutes to spare. The whole time, your lips locked in an impassioned kiss as you tried intensely to keep up with the other’s rhythm.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Mark growled. He spoke his mind. It was the first thing he thought every time he laid eyes on you.

The tone of his voice had you seeping with arousal, and to hide your desperation, you flirted, “Fuck me then, handsome.”

Mark grunted. He couldn’t wait anymore. “Do you have a condom?”

“Yes, but I have an IUD,” you added, hoping he’d catch your drift.

Mark blinked in realization. “Fuck. You want me to…”

“Yes,” you groaned, growing more impatient by the minute. “You’re clean, right?”

“Squeaky.”

“Then, hurry up.”

So much for not seeming desperate.

Mark shed his remaining layers of clothing and you licked your lips at the sight of his cock standing at full height against his stomach. Making out with you always got him hard like nothing else on this planet.

You eyed his movements with anticipation. Your body was burning for him to fill the void that he’d created. Like you weren’t complete until he was buried deeply inside you.

Your heart sped as he neared your hole. Mark was nothing if not a tease. He damped himself in your arousal and only pushed in when he heard you whimper, smiling smugly to himself. The first thrust was agonizingly slow. Mark took his sweet time to fit his cock into you, watching your face twist and your breath slow as you took him inch by inch.

There was something about the first thrust that was inexplicably magical to you. Being filled to the hilt with thick heat for the very first time. You held your breath every time.

Then, Mark pulled back out altogether and on cue, you let out an immediate noise of displeasure. “Mark…”

The man in question was firm on reducing you to ash and bones. “Beg,” he growled, leaning low into your ear.

You laughed. As if to tell him he sounded insane. “I don’t beg.”

Mark didn’t blink when he told you, “You do today.” His face was void of all humor and he glanced at you expectantly. He dragged his length on top of your pussy, steering just shy of where you needed him. And it was very intentional.

God, did you try to resist, but Mark had grown familiar with your weaknesses in such a short span of time. Every bone in your body ached for him to fill you. To make you complete once more. It begged to be unabridged and tell him your body’s every secret story. And your pride was a fair compensation.

You stifled a groan and said faintly, “Please.”

“C’mon, doll. You can do better than that,” Mark chided playfully, evidently dissatisfied.

You exhaled a sigh and inhaled your pride. “Please, fuck me, Mark. I can’t wait anymore. I need you.”

Mark teased, “Now, was that so hard?” And before you could provide any commentary, he was burying himself inside you yet again.

It wasn’t very long before you were content again. You let out a sigh of relief when Mark filled you once more, and another when he thrusted out and pushed back inside. His rough hands gripped your hips and he watched the way your cunt swallowed him whole, as if you simply couldn’t get enough of him.

Fuck, you felt like heaven. The way you clamped around him - warm and wet and tight - always set off something animalistic inside of him, but bareback? There was no way in hell he would last.

Mark was only slow to tease you. The moment he exhausted his self-control, he set an uptempo pace. He eyed you like a preying hawk, thinking about how beautiful you were. It was an unshakable thought; you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Eagerly taking his cock like you were made for it or not.

Everything felt so natural with Mark. Nothing was learned nor taught, it was simply second nature for your body to respond to him with ardency and abidance. It came naturally.

“You feel so good,” Mark groaned, giving your thigh a little slap as if to punish you for bringing him to ecstasy. And smirking a little when you let out a tiny cry. “Why do you feel so good?”

You playfully retorted, “‘Cause I’m a goddess.”

Mark nodded. “I believe you.” He brought one of his hands from your hips and ventured your perfect body. Perfect in his eyes. Every spot and curve and scar. And the bruises he’d left, of course. “My Aphrodite.”

You lifted your head a little to clench your teeth into his neck and Mark leaned into you, biting at your shoulder to smother his sounds. Which made you giggle. It always amused you that he was so sensitive to your every touch.

Gosh, you were so goddamn close; skin on skin. Fire wafted over your body, fueled by the flames of his sweltering skin. Sweat beaded at your skin and heat shot through every muscle of your body. The way Mark was pounding into you mercilessly only made you scorch even more. It was impossible to breathe and you loved it. There was no greater feeling than being suffocated by pleasure and arousal.

You locked eyes with Mark and swore you couldn’t feel your pulse. Missionary wasn’t something you did with Mark very often, but you loved to watch his face tense with pleasure. And making prolonged eye contact caused your heart to swell with something unfamiliar. Something vicious and strong that made your entire body ignite with warmth.

The sex was rough and fast, yet intimate. Mark was just the right amount of all three.

Mark loosely gripped your throat and growled, “Tell me you love it.”

You bowed your body into him, moaning, “I love it so much.”

That was the right answer. Mark continued to love you all over. His body never neglected any part of yours, showering you with warmth and pleasure. Like he had nothing but depthless appreciation for you.

The longer Mark fucked you, the less you could think of anything other than him. You forgot about the huge city right outside the balcony. Everyone and everything else melted away and it was only you and Mark chasing the satisfaction of each other’s bodies and love.

Love. You were beginning to accept it. There was nowhere to run and no escape; not when Mark was overwhelming you with heated fervor and passion. He was suffocating you with that forbidden four-letter word.

You were beginning to fall in love with Mark.

If love was a poison, you were sipping to your demise and savoring the taste on your tongue. If combining sex with love was a one-way ticket to death, you’d die in Mark’s arms. There was no place else you’d rather be.

“All mine,” Mark growled, pressing kisses down your collarbone and breast to your stomach. All you could feel were tingles that refused to vacate you. They’d found a new home.

Softly, you replied, “All yours.”

There was no arguing with that. The way your body responded to his touch, it was as if you were carefully crafted for Mark and Mark only. Which, the way he fit perfectly inside of you was a testament to.

Mark made you feel rupture and rapture. They were practically indistinguishable. He broke you into a billion tiny pieces that were held together by unfaltering desire.

Just listening to the mess that you’d both created set you ablaze. The wet, resounding clap of Mark slamming his hips into yours as well as your moans and heavy breaths filled the empty air. Your eyes rolled back at the lewd noises. “Mark, Mark,” you cried out his name, sensing you were only moments away from the edge.

Mark knew that you were close without asking and he was trailing right behind you by nearly nothing at all. His pace was vigorous, positively trying to fuck your brains out.

You only got closer and closer. His thrusts felt sharper and the pressure continued to build in your gut at a rate quicker than you could handle and far beyond your control. Any moment now, you would be at your breaking point.

“Don’t pull out,” you demanded, knowing he wasn’t far behind you. It was written all over his face.

Mark grunted at the mere thought of coming inside of you. Needless to say, he had dreamed of letting his release flood you. “Want me to fill you up?”

“Yes,” you moaned, craving him more than anything ever. “Please.”

Mark clamped his fingers around your throat, knowing it would bring you to finish quicker than anything else. “Let go for me, baby,” he said lustfully.

Just like that, you were convulsing with climax. As if he single-handedly controlled every muscle and nerve in your body. The room reeled as you came, voice as loud as it could be with his hand denying you the privilege of breath. Your nails dug harshly into the flesh of his back as your whole body shuddered uncontrollably with release.

You and Mark stared each other in the eyes as you both came. You watched his lips split in a grunt and his orgasm knocked the wind out of him, flaring down his spine. His fingers dug tighter around your throat and his cum filled you all at once. “Take it all,” he ordered, body coming to a halt. “Every last drop.”

Your body obeyed, still eagerly clinging around his cock. It was like you wanted to bleed each other dry. Him of all of his cum and you of your willpower.

Then, you slowly yet steadily both came to a stop. Mark took his precious time to pull out of you, but watched his seed trickle out of your sweet cunt with adoration. His grip around your neck slackened, and you both settled down to finally breathe for what felt like the first time ever.

It wasn’t like you to be so exhausted after a single round, but that night, you were completely spent. You cleaned up a little, then drifted into sleep within the comfort of Mark’s embrace.

Mark held your sleeping figure closely, taking all of your warmth and replacing it with his. I love you, he thought gently. And I’m sorry.

You fell asleep in Mark’s arms, and after a long night of dreaming about him in your sleep, woke up in them, too. And you had the biggest smile on your face when you realized that some time between when you fell asleep and when you woke up, Mark had removed your makeup.

You were beginning to love Mark so much that you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

Last night was mind-blowing. And not only that, it gave you an epiphany. You wanted Mark in your life. You wanted to wake up in his arms and feel his body on yours. You wanted to kiss him while cuddling beneath the moonlight. You wanted to take over the world with him.

But by doing so, you would have broken one of Bloodlust’s most important rules; disobeying direct orders. The cost? Your life.

All of the warmth of loving Mark you felt for him only moments ago suddenly dissipated into cold unadulterated fear.

You stared at his sleeping face and felt a tear slide down your face. I’m sorry.

Mark’s eyes fluttered open. He wiped your tears with his thumb and asked in his gruff morning voice, “Why are you crying?”

You smiled and shook your head. “It’s nothing,” you lied.

Though in reality, you were so overwhelmed. And borderline terrified. The last time you loved someone, they tried to violate you. Not to mention you knew the inner circle would never approve of your relationship with Mark.

If you didn’t kill him, then they would. And then you’d be next.

“Don’t lie to me,” Mark said. He could see that this whole predicament was doing a large number on you. Even the strongest soldiers had their weak points.

You sighed faintly. Then said, “I’ll tell you later.”

Mark’s hand found yours and squeezed it tightly. “Promise?”

“I promise.” You glanced at his neck, and failed to hide your grin of pride as you saw the pattern of marks you’d left there. Little traces of you flooded his whole body. As traces of him did yours. “Mm, did I do that?”

He shifted his glance down and snickered. “You did.”

You hummed. “I didn’t mean to go that far.”

“For some reason, I don’t believe you.”

You gasped in faux offense. Then, broke into a fit of giggles. The sight tugged at Mark’s heartstrings and the corners of his lips.

That smile was what made your heart beat. You brought your lips to Mark’s in a peck. Or three. Insatiably craving more, Mark held your face and kissed you even longer and harder.

One thing led to another. One second your lips were to his and the next he was lazily fucking you into pieces, moans echoing inside the room in between kisses and giggles.

You were so far gone that there was no redemption.

The weeks flew by at the speed of lightning and in no time at all, you were months deep into Mark. He gave you everything that the narcotics unit had on you thus far, and you were pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn’t much at all. They had most of the inner circle identified save for Jaemin (not surprisingly), but the relationships were either vague, inaccurate or a combination thereof.

The only reason Jaemin and Ten hadn’t cracked their unit open yet was because of the tight lock they had on all gang-related cases. And they kept their information on physical files. Granted, it was very scarce.

Begrudgingly, of course, you had to give Jisung credit there. Neither Mark or Jeno had caught a glimpse of those imported drugs before in their lives.

Given that you made no attempts to hide your affection, it was broadly known that there was a bond between both you and Mark. You played it off as baiting him; luring him into your trap in order to milk him for everything he knew. Your emotions were kept under wraps when he was the topic of discussion and you fought smiles whenever you heard someone say Mark’s name. They fell hook, line, and sinker.

“They had a hunch that you were Yuta’s girlfriend,” Mark had told you. Now that he was confidently aware that it wasn’t the case, he found it laughable. “I was supposed to use you to move in proximity with the inner circle. The best way to take down any organization is to remove the heart, but obviously I never got far.”

Apparently, their source of rationale were photographs of you and Yuta together discreetly taken. It was a lie you fed into, providing Mark fake intel to feed his dangerously nosy co-workers. As always, the less law enforcement knew, the better.

Your shoulders shook with laughter. “You used to be such a pain in the ass, y’know? I can’t believe you bugged me.”

Mark furrowed his brows. “Huh?”

“Didn’t you put a bug in my pocket?” you asked, arching your brows. “After the race. You know, when you hugged me?”

“My hands were on your back,” Mark reminded, confused. As were you. “That was probably Jeno. But he hasn’t mentioned anything to me about it. I never bugged you, baby - I genuinely just wanted a hug.”

You barked, “The hell is his problem with me? I mean, for an undercover cop he’s obvious as hell. Why send somebody with no prior experience to the danger zone?”

Mark shrugged. He had very little say on the matter. Not that he fought it, either. “They decided that he was ‘the second-most equipped.’ Verbatim.”

“I can’t imagine why. That night on the rooftop,” you trailed off, shaking your head. “I don’t think he trusts you.”

Mark laughed. That was to put it simply. “Yeah, me neither. I told him I was fooling around with you to gain your trust - and at first, I was. But not anymore.”

That went without saying. But you still retorted, “If you’re fucking with me, Mark, I’ll kill you.”

Mark snorted. “I’m sure.”

He wasn’t afraid of you. Like you were a puppy posing as a wolf waving your paws at him with puppy eyes. Mark, threatened by you? As if. You were his fucking baby.

Long nights of feeding Bloodlust intel on the narcotics unit, then coming home to Mark passed by. You’d eventually given him your address and permitted him to go inside. He quite liked your home. It looked and smelled like you. He never knew what to imagine when it came to the interior of your house, but upon seeing, it made perfect sense.

Pictures of you and your friends scattered around the house. None of you by yourself and none with your family. Little plants growing healthily. You mentioned that they were high-maintenance. Your favorite blankets in a heap on the sofa. And a bookshelf brimming with novels. Mark was pleasantly surprised to learn that you were a major bookworm. And a closeted romantic.

It was close to midnight when you heard someone behind you. Very swiftly, you were endeavoring to arrive safely to the garage where your car waited, though you knew that there was no chance of making it in one piece without confrontation. You turned a corner and patiently drew your gun; it wasn’t very often that you ventured into the night alone past sunset, but you damn sure made certain that your gun was tucked to yourself.

There was a familiar negative energy all around you. It was impossible to ignore - far too suffocating and too distinguishable to be neglected.

Not surprising in the slightest, it was Jeno who rounded the corner. With his usual scowl, and an aimed gun.

Narrowing your eyes, you snapped, “What do you want?”

Jeno smiled. It was the first time you’d seen his lips form anything other than a crooked frown, but it still exuded that same level of cold grimness. “I think you know what I want.”

You studied Jeno for a moment. For someone who believed you were the second-in-command’s girlfriend, he showed you no fear, grip on his gun firm as he aimed it squarely at your chest. Apparently, you were a woman that was loyal to no one but herself in the eyes of the law. Which made you all the more unpredictable. “I know that you’re not who you say you are,” you began levelly, inching closer. “I know everything there is to know about you, Jeno.”

“Because Mark told you, right?” Jeno snarled. “I know a lot about you, too - like how you’ve been whoring yourself out to Mark because you know that he’s easy. He was ripe for the picking and that’s why they stuck me with him; because they knew he needed grounding.”

That made you bristle with anger, but you kept a lid over your temper and retorted, “That sounds like a nice little fairy tale. Is that what you’re going to tell the big boss?”

Ignoring you, Jeno continued, “The world will know the truth about you and this whole gang. You’re more than the bitch they pay to secretly do their bidding. Before you were Scar, you were a gang-hopper.”

Seething, you lunged at Jeno with the gun. He blocked the attack - courtesy of your blindness from the rage that ran down your spine - and cocked his gun at you.

And then there was a loud, piercing gunshot.

But you were never shot. Jeno’s grip on his gun slackened and fell to the ground with him. He lay there gaping, a hand over his stomach that bled profusely. And glancing not at you; behind you. When you turned around, Mark emerged from the corner around you and stepped out of the shadows to approach you.

“You should be more careful,” Mark chided. “What if it wasn’t me behind you?”

Though you wanted to smile, you couldn’t. There was a tormenting question on your brain. How does Jeno know about my past?

“Mark,” Jeno choked out, nearly coughing up blood. He raised his arm with all of his strength and pointed with a trembling finger. “Mark is…,”

Mark didn’t let him finish, cutting Jeno off with a bullet to the head. Whatever he was going to say died with him.

Rather than feeling relieved, you were unnerved. Mark killed Jeno to protect you. Love made people do crazy things - that you knew better than anyone else, but Mark seemed colder than you’d ever seen him before. He didn’t waver; unhesitating and unremorseful.

As if this wasn’t his first rodeo.

“You never mentioned telling the team about my past.”

Mark cast you a glance. “That’s because I didn’t.”

You narrowed your eyes and whispered, “Then, how did Jeno know?”

Mark caught onto what you were hinting at and his face swiftly softened. There was no way in hell that he would do anything to hurt you. And he needed you to know that. “I never said a word about your past to him, baby. I swear. I don’t know how he found out, but you need to know that I’d never air out any of your business.”

There were other possibilities, too. Your past wasn’t exactly private - that you knew. He could have contacted your old friends, or heard the gossip of the low-ranks. Any of those roads were open, but it meant more if Mark himself exposed you. That was unacceptable.

You blew out a sigh and reminded yourself that Mark had been in gangs before - he most likely had bodies. As always, you were just paranoid. You believed that everyone was out to get you because the people that were meant to embrace you released you into the cold.

Hiding your gun, you pulled Mark into your embrace and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Mark murmured. “Just tell me that you trust me.”

“I trust you,” you told him. No reluctance, no shame. And I love you.

You knew that Mark loved you too. In your heart and bones. He had killed for you.

You called someone to discard Jeno's corpse and went home with Mark. The two of you talked and fell asleep by each other’s side. It was more or less a routine.

But when you woke up, Mark wasn’t there. You called out his name; no response. You looked inside the bathroom and he wasn’t there. The living room, kitchen, and all of his favorite spots inside your house were almost void of life.

Mark wasn’t there and it was downright laughable that that frightened you to your very core, but he never left without telling you. You scanned your memories of last night for any warning and ultimately came short.

It wasn’t the first time that you’d woken up alone, but more often than not, you woke up in each other’s arms. Occasionally, one of you would be in the bathroom or kitchen, but you never left the house without mentioning it the night before or leaving some form of text or note.

Though when you checked your phone, it was empty.

And so, you began to do the one thing you very seldom did; panic. There was no indication that Mark had been forced out of your house, but the depthless list of possibilities unnerved you. You prayed that he was somewhere safe. That at most, maybe he’d simply forgotten. You would have scolded him for getting you wound up over nothing, but at least he would be out of harm’s way.

There was a knock at your front door and hoping it was Mark, you rushed to open it, but you frowned when you were met with the face of a man that you’d never seen before.

The stranger said, “Hi. I’m Huang Renjun and I know you don’t know me, but you’ve got to get the fuck out of here. Right now.”

You blinked. Then, shut the door on him. It was too goddamn early for this foolishness.

Undeterred, Renjun opened the door again and welcomed himself inside. This town wasn’t big enough for two stubborn assholes.

You screeched, “The hell, man?”

Renjun exclaimed, “Do you want to die?”

“I literally do not know who the fuck you are!”

“Yes. I thought I made that very clear,” Renjun hissed, gritting his teeth. “But you do know Alexander Lee.”

In an instant, you were rendered gorgonized like a gargoyle. That name never failed to put you in a borderline unresponsive stupor. Anything regarding Alexander “Lex” Lee plagued your heart and body with crisp fear.

“I don’t want anything that has to do with Lex,” you replied, shaking your head and backing away.

This game of hide-and-seek had kept you on your toes for ages now. You’d spent the last years of your life off the grid to take cover from him and now this? Hell no.

Renjun briefly studied you. For someone rumored to have looked death in the face and blown him a kiss, it was not at all lost on him how terrified you’d suddenly become at the mere mention of Lex’s name. It was a warranted fear - the one that made you tick. “I’m sure. But if you don’t leave this place as soon as possible, he’s going to kill you.”

“And I’m supposed to just trust you?” you whispered, all the bite in your voice demolished by terror.

“Mark sent me.”

You blinked. “What?”

Renjun groaned, though didn’t elaborate. It was no mystery how you and Mark got along. For one, you were both a pain in ass and a thorn in his side. Instead, he drew his phone from his pocket and dialed a number. And put the phone on speaker.

“Do you have her?” came Mark’s voice.

Renjun said exasperatedly, “Let’s try ‘Hello, Renjun.’ Or ‘Hi.’ Most people say that when they pick up the phone, you know.”

“Mark,” you breathed, relieved to hear his voice. He was somewhere out there. But you were hurt that he left you.

Ignoring Renjun, Mark greeted, “Hi, doll.”

Renjun only wished he had time to argue. He would have burned your lover alive for greeting you instead of him, but the clock was ticking. He already had too many irons in the fire. “Hurry up and talk some sense into your girl, Mark. She doesn’t believe me.”

Your girl, he had said. Mark’s girl. For a split second, your heart brimmed with warmth.

Mark began from across the line, “Listen to me, baby. I know this is sudden and I’ll explain everything as soon as I get the chance, but you need to trust me and listen to Renjun. Okay?”

Your heart sank. “What’s going on?”

“No time to explain,” Mark told you curtly. “Just do this for me. Please.”

You blew out a sigh. This was too much too soon. Ultimately, you decided to trust Mark. “Okay.”

Mark blurted, “I love you.”

A pained smile curled your lips. “I love you more.”

“Alright, fun’s over,” Renjun interjected. He would not stick around for your lovey-dovey mess. Especially not when lives were on the line and in jeopardy. “We’ll talk to you later, Mark. You go get dressed and come on.”

Begrudgingly, you did as told, rushing upstairs to throw on an appropriate outfit before you headed back down and got inside a car with a man that you’d known for less than fifteen minutes.

As soon as you were on the road, you reminded yourself that you had no idea what was happening and where you were going, and asked, “Where are we going?”

Renjun replied, “Somewhere safe.”

Vague. You didn’t like that. “Are you a cop?”

“No.”

“Do you work with Mark?”

“Not in the way that you think,” Renjun responded, patiently quickly evaporating into thin air.

You pressed, “Then, in what way?”

Gosh, you were aggravating. In his mind, Renjun was likening you to a child that persistently asked their parents, ‘Are we there yet?’ during long road trips. “Jesus, woman! Would you stop badgering me?”

You narrowed your eyes and faced the window so that you wouldn’t lunge at him. “I just want to know what’s going on. You mention Lex Lee - the man that’s been indirectly making my life hell for the last years of my life - and expect me to not have questions?”

You had him there. Alexander was the devil himself and anyone that had known him for five minutes could most likely back you up. His goons were lightly compensated and offered little leeway, and the worst part was the hierarchy system.

Everyone was inferior to someone save for Lex, and the designated high-ranks were equally crooked. They schemed to get away with stepping out of line directly under his nose, often pinning the blame on low-ranking members to avoid lethal retribution.

That was why you were scared shitless to return that day. Lex and your ex-boyfriend were like brothers. It didn’t matter what you told him happened to you - you’d be lucky if he cared. Let alone believed you.

Renjun heaved a breath. You had a very fair argument. “Lex is looking for you. He’s attacked Bloodlust’s headquarters. That’s why Mark wants me to keep you safe.”

“What?” you shrieked in terror. “I have to go back there!”

Renjun turned onto another street and shook his head, eyeing the roads for Lex’s hounds. “It’s not safe. Do you hear me? It’s not safe. You were scared shitless of anything involving Lex three seconds ago.”

“I don’t care,” you hissed. “This is my battle. I’ll be damned if I let anyone else fight it for me. Yuta saved my life - now it’s my turn.”

Renjun balked, “No, it’s not. I know about Bloodlust. They protect you as long as you do their bidding. So let them do their goddamn job.”

Gritting your teeth, you crossed your arms and stared out the window, watching buildings and signs whirl by in a blur. It was clear that Renjun would not be wooed by you, but you refused to sit and do nothing. Especially when his connection - or Mark’s - to Lex was unknown. There had to be another way.

Recognizing the road you turned onto, you had an idea. It was reckless and extremely dangerous, but you wouldn’t let that deter you. Not when the better half of your life consisted of making life-threatening choices. There was the option to take the hard way or the easy way out.

And you’d be damned if you took the easy way.

Calculating, you counted down the seconds in your head until you could make your move. The moment you were down to one, you moved at the speed of light and swung the car door open, launching yourself out and rolling into an area of enclosed grass.

You grabbed your gun from your purse and aimed squarely at Renjun’s tires, sending him swerving somewhere. He screamed in the distance, “You sick psychopathic bitch!”

I’ve heard that before, too, you thought to yourself with levity. And then, like your life depended on it, you bolted.

Dusting away dirt and twigs, you sprinted and sprinted and sprinted. The street was close to the garages. Obviously, your car wasn’t there, but there were plenty that were.

You bust through the garage and scanned each of the open slots for your unlucky victim. There were several people, most polishing up their cars before tonight’s race. And you swiftly made your pick, not having time to linger.

You snatched one of the racer’s keys and asked breathlessly, “Can I borrow these? Thanks, you’re the best!”

Screams of protest were your less than pleased response, but you had already made a distance on the garage by the time anyone thought to react. The moment you were on a road, you let out a thick, heavy breath.

Forget crazy. You were out of your goddamn mind.

You sped as fast as you could without going over the limit, given you had already committed two crimes in broad daylight. The last thing you needed was a high-speed police chase.

The east side of the headquarters was the closest and you drove like the devil. The closer you neared, the faster your heart echoed in your chest. You hoped Mark wasn’t there, but with his knowledge of Lex, you had aching questions numb you to your love. And you prayed your boss decided to take an off day.

Alas, the building was - metaphorically speaking - ablaze when you arrived there. A grating dissonance of screams and gunshots filled the distant air. Lex had called war on Bloodlust via this ambush, but not knowing who was winning completely unnerved you.

You got out of the car and approached the building through the rear side. Conveniently, there were emergency exits installed in scatters around the headquarters designed for similar occasions. Discreetly, you entered through one, and steered clear of the noise as you stealthily made your way upstairs. It was in your best interest to remain undetected. For all they knew, you weren’t here.

Creeping around corners, you held your breath. As if the slightest sound would have you killed on the spot. The loud halls that echoed with gunshots terrified you, but the eerily silent ones were too quiet to be relieving.

Whirling around the corner, you parted your lips to scream when you bumped into someone, and they clamped their palm over your mouth. “Shut the fuck up,” Jisung growled, looking both ways like a civilian crossing the street. When he deemed the close clear, he released you. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Heaving, you asked, “Have you seen Yuta or Mark?”

Jisung answered you with complete disinterest and disdain, and said, “Yuta’s been unresponsive. As for loverboy, he’s the reason you’re in this mess.”

You realized that you’d blown your cover the second you mentioned Mark, but you didn’t care. For the sake of your heart and mind, you needed to trust and believe that he was safe. You wouldn’t know how to go on without him. How to unlearn everything you’d gotten so accustomed to in his presence.

“What do you mean, unresponsive?” you repeated, lost for words. “And the reason? What the hell are you talking about?”

Jisung pinched his nose and shook his head. “Forget it. Figure that shit out yourself.”

He turned around and walked away, Part of you was tempted to scream after him, though the sight of a man emerging from the shadows behind Jisung - armed with murder on his mind - silenced you. For some reason, everything in your body told you to pick up your gun and shoot. You complied, and shot fire.

Jisung whirled back around in time to watch the man hit the ground, gone without knowing what hit him. He rooted to the spot, gaze rising to your figure and noticing the gun in your grasp. “Did you just…”

“Save your life?” you finished. “Yeah. You’re welcome.”

Jisung blew out a sigh. He was many things, including your mortal enemy, but he had a moral compass and in that moment he owed you his life. He glanced around once more, then told you, “Mark is a member of The Basilisks.”

You wanted to laugh. “What?”

Jisung made his tone as menacing as possible and added, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. But your loverboy isn’t who you think he is. Jaemin followed up on him today. Mark’s cousin is Alexander Lee and he’s been in that gang since a little after you started working for Yuta.”

Your heart sank. You wanted to deny it with everything you had, but it made sense. How else would Mark know Lex? He even mentioned that his cousin made a gang. Stupid, you told yourself. You’re so fucking stupid.

God, you wished the ground would swallow you whole. You wanted to isolate yourself from the rest of the world and rot to bones. Mark had gotten under your skin, reduced you to your true, bare self. He had seen all of the good and bad; the beautiful and ugly. You felt comfortable enough to be more vulnerable with him than you ever had anyone else. Was all of that in vain?

The Basilisk Biker’s. It hurt so goddamn much. You felt so used and betrayed. And empty. Like you had poured your mind, body, heart and soul into loving Mark and had nothing left to spare.

Maybe you did.

Jisung saw the sadness in your eyes and felt a pang of something he had never felt for you before. It didn’t feel right. Your eyes always gleamed with fire, but your flame was demolished. He wanted to hug you, but it wasn’t his embrace that you needed at the moment. He doubted you would want it in the first place.

Instead, he said, “You have to get out of here.”

“I have to find Yuta,” you argued, gritting your teeth.

“What if he’s safe?”

Without missing a beat, you shot, “What if he’s not?”

Jisung had argued with you enough in his lifetime to know that you were headstrong and demanded your way. If you wanted something enough, there was absolutely nothing on this earth that could stop you from chasing it. But he also knew that the moment something happened to you once he left you alone, your blood would be on his hands. “I’m going with you.”

You shrugged and replied, “Suit yourself.” Then, began to make your way up the stairs. The elevators were too risky.

You fought tears and focused yourself on your boss. You’d be damned if you cried while anyone was watching. You had taken a bullet tougher than this. Toughen up, you hissed inwardly.

The long staircase had made you realize just how large the headquarters was. In your head, you had always thought of it as a second home. Now, it was being destroyed by your first one.

When you reached the floor of Yuta’s office, you stepped onto the ground, peeking around and spotting Basilisks. Jisung whispered, “I’ll distract them. You go check his office.”

You nodded. Jisung did exactly what he said that he would, and you set out for Yuta’s office. Just from standing outside the door, you could tell that it was empty. But you needed to see for yourself. You counted down from three, attempting to soothe your rapidly moving mind, and barged inside.

The sight unnerved you. Yuta was nowhere to be found, but the room was completely wrecked. Like he was blitzed and fought like hell against his attacker.

There was little trace of him. No sign of where he was or where he’d gone. Not even traces of blood. Just his belongings toppled over in a heap and his window completely open, curtains blustering.

“Find something interesting here?”

Fear riveted you in place. You took your time to turn around, met face to face with a man straight out of a nightmare.

“Lex,” you exhaled thickly, the wind knocked out of you.

Lex smiled wickedly. There was a gun in his hand. “Long time no see, old friend.”

You shook your head viciously and screamed, “Where the hell is my boss?”

Lex inched closer, closing in on you as if he was going to make you walk off of a plank. You took steps backwards, colliding with Yuta’s desk. “Well, I could tell you, but where’s the fun in that?”

“You son of a bitch,” you hissed.

As if he didn’t hear you, Lex continued, “It wounded me real bad when you left, y’know. Word on the street is that this Yuta fool had you sold in less than a day. Then, I find out you killed Riley,” Lex laughed. “Whew, I was livid!”

“You were going to kill me,” you said, moving around the desk as swiftly as possible. You never wanted to leave. There were people in that gang that you considered family and you missed them everyday of your life. You never wanted to leave them behind.

“Damn right, I was!” Lex shouted. He didn’t sound angry - he sounded insane. That was arguably worse. “With my bare goddamn hands!”

You shook your head, fighting to remain calm. Lex’s weakness was his anger, but so was yours. If you stayed rational, you had a fighting chance at survival. “I didn’t want to kill Riley. You have to trust me on that, Lex. He was trying to push me into things I wasn’t ready for. I didn’t have a choice.”

Pretending to care, Lex crooned, “You have a choice now. Come back home. Let’s be a family again. The girls missed you the worst.”

Or else what? You knew your other unspoken choice was gruesome as they always had been, but you also knew that Lex was full of shit. There was no way in hell that he would let you off that easily.

Or alive, for that matter.

You knew what your options were, because you knew Alexander Lee better than anyone else alive. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. A narcissist if you knew one, blind to his flaws. He was manipulative and deceptive, but worst of all, he had not a shred of mercy.

If anyone was going to take your life from you, it wouldn’t be Lex. You refused to grant him that pleasure. And you knew very well that the only reason you were still alive and breathing was because he wanted to kill you with his own bare hands. Nobody would be given the satisfaction of taking your life if not you.

You shook your head and swore, “Over my dead body.”

Then, you leapt out of the window.

And crash landed onto the balcony on the floor below you. You struck the deep trenches of your memory, reminding yourself that Yuta once mentioned that he refused to get a balcony like the rest of the members. He claimed that in times of crisis, he wouldn’t regret his decision. And you chose to believe that that was how he escaped. It was a graceless fall. It hurt like a bitch, but what mattered was that you were still alive. Somehow.

You raced through the floor in case Lex was crazy enough to follow you.

You ran and you ran and you ran for your life. Your legs ached from all of the reckless stunts you’d pulled today, but you never stopped running. The thoughts seeped into your mind, going miles per minute, trying to outmatch the speed of your feet. You thought of your family and felt pain. You thought of Lex and felt fear. You thought of your old friends and felt regret. You thought of Yuta and felt dread. You thought of Mark and felt stone-cold betrayal.

But you also felt love. Your heart hammered like it was trying to wreck its way through your chest. You wanted some kind of explanation for this, one that would make all of the pain fade, but you knew that there was none.

How could Mark tell you that he loved you but work aside the same man that made your life a living hell? Your heart was crying blood. It bled and beat for him all at once.

Adrenaline made you numb to the pain of everything except for your wounded heart. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe there was someone else that would be granted the satisfaction of taking your life. Giving Mark the key to your heart was like handing him a gun and telling him to shoot. Your heart begged for the one person that you were forbidden to have.

Speak of the devil, they say. And he shall appear.

Somewhere in the run for your life, you bumped directly into Mark. He looked relieved and displeased to see you all at once.

Mark grabbed you and whispered, “Baby…”

You swatted his hands away and cried, “Don’t call me that!”

Mark reached for your hand, squeezing tightly. There was no levity in his tone when he said, “I’m not doing any of this to hurt you. I swear on my life. You just need to trust me.”

“No,” you shouted, fighting like hell to keep your tears at bay. They stung your eyes, but he didn’t deserve to see them fall. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time and expect me to trust you? That’s not how that works, Mark.”

“I know,” Mark agreed. “And you have every right to be pissed at me for what I’m about to do.”

Before you had the chance to ask questions, Mark pulled you to his chest and clamped his palm over your mouth, then shouted, “Over here - I’ve got her!”

Basilisks began to fill your vision. They circled you like a shark to its prey, guns aimed. You noticed familiar faces around you, and you couldn’t blame them for any vengeful feelings they felt for you. Mark shoved you in the middle by yourself, like he was presenting his artwork to them, proud of his product.

Lex spoke to Mark, but you tuned in and out, their words being reduced to white noise. You felt so much pain and fear that your body began to numb your senses in self-preservation. It was too much to bear.

This is it, you thought somberly. This is my end. Part of you was satisfied with that. You were so tired. You had worked your whole life and experienced loss to loss with no breaks in between. No breathing room. If you weren’t a sinner, you would have believed that you would finally meet your mother.

Then again, depending on who you asked, she was a sinner too.

“Thought you could run from me,” Lex taunted, clearly amused. “I thought you would have learned by now. No one escapes me. No one escapes their fate.”

He was right. After all, you had nowhere to run this time. Not with over a dozen guns pointed squarely at your head.

All you wanted was for him to make this quick. To put you out of your misery already. Add one more scar to your body in completion.

Lex tilted his head. “Any last words?”

Without hesitation, you spat, “Fuck you.”

Lex burst into laughter. Then, much to your surprise, said, “Mark, finish her.”

You stayed still and held your breath, knowing this was the inevitable end. But you couldn’t look at Mark. It would hurt you too much.

Then, The Basilisks switched on a dime and aimed their guns at Lex - including Mark. Stupidly, you stood there blinking. Lisa - one of your old friends - had to pull you out of harm’s way. She whispered, “You’re safe. Everything’s gonna be okay now.”

Too stunned to speak, you stood gawking.

Lex blurted, “What the hell do you all think you’re doing?”

“This has to end, Alexander. And it ends with you,” Mark began, casting his cousin an unsympathetic glance. “For the past decade, you’ve been making everyone here's life a living hell. How much longer did you think we were going to put up with that bullshit?”

Lex began to stumble backwards, reaching for escape, but one of the Basilisks named Yangyang pushed him back into the circle, then said, “Woah, woah, woah - where do you think you’re going, big guy?”

Realizing he was cornered, Lex turned to stare at his cousin in disbelief. “Really? Your own flesh and blood, Mark?”

Mark let out a remorseless chuckle. “Don’t pretend to have a moral compass now. Here’s the thing, Lex. Everyone here considers each other family and you’ve fucked every last one of us over. You don’t give a flying fuck about blood and flesh; all you care about is power. You like that you can kill whoever - whenever - and our fate lies in your hands.”

“It used to,” Yangyang corrected from the sidelines. “Now, the tables have turned. You get to feel what’s like to be on the other side of torture.”

Another Basilisk - Seulgi - spoke up from the crowd, voice dripping with the bite of venom, “You pay us less than we’re worth to do your bidding and you let those sons of bitches get away with framing us - but impose the death rule so that we can’t leave. We’re fed the hell up, Lex.”

The death rule was simply that. Nobody was allowed to leave. Your only escape was the dark void of death. It was more or less a pre-prison for gangsters.

Unless, you ran away. In Basilisk history, you were the only successful runaway.

You simply watched in amusement, feeling a wound in you healed. Never in a million years would you have imagined a dream like this come true. It was better than anything you’d ever hoped for. It’s over.

“I don’t do last words,” Mark mocked, cocking his gun. “Goodbye, cousin.”

The sound of a gunshot resonated throughout the hall, and Alexander dropped to the floor in vanquish.

“It really is over,” Lisa repeated. Until then, you hadn’t realized that you’d said those words aloud. You were out of your body.

You grabbed her hand. “Let’s get out of here?”

Lisa cocked a brow. “What about lover boy?”

You gaped. “You know?”

“Oh, please. Mark tells us a lot about you. He acts like we’ve never met you before. It’s hard to get him to shut up sometimes,” Lisa scoffed.

Mark talks about me. That made your heart swell with emotion, but you pushed them aside. “I’m still mad at him. Let’s go before he makes me change my mind.”

Giggling, Lisa told you, “Lead the way.”

You did as told, leading her outside. For now, you pushed your worries away. They would return, but you were simply glad to connect with an old friend for the meantime. A very special one at that.

Hand in hand, you brought Lisa to one of the balconies. The wind whipped through her hair as you both faced the city. The memories were a mixture of pained and blissful. They stung your heart, yet filled you with impalpable joy.

After a moment of silence, Lisa whispered, “You never said goodbye.”

“I know.”

She whirled around to face you, a pained expression on her face. “That hurt.”

“I know,” you said, frowning. “And I’m sorry.”

Lisa faced the early morning city again. Like looking at you would be her breaking point. “You did what you had to do. I can’t hold that against you. I was just scared that you’d forget me.”

You called her name austerely and slightly rolled up your shirt, then spoke like you were delivering a speech, “I carry a piece of you with me everyday. Every time I look in the mirror, I think of you. Pain is temporary, but this scar is forever. It is a constant reminder of you and what our friendship means to me. I can’t forget that.”

Lisa gazed at your scar fondly. She remembered how you got it like it was yesterday. You jumped in front of a bullet to save her life. You were so goddamn stupid, but damn did she love you for it.

She pulled you into a hug. And you smiled.

“I moved on,” Lisa mentioned once she pulled away. “I found someone.”

Your eyes widened, your smile broadened. “Who is she?”

Lisa smiled involuntarily at the thought of her mystery woman. Once upon a time, she smiled at you like that. “Jennie.”

“No way,” you said, jaw dropping.

“Yes, way,” Lisa smirked. “Love always finds a way. Sometimes the one meant for you is the person you’d least expect. It’s ironic, isn't it?”

You groaned, “You’re telling me.”

Lisa studied you. Never in a million years would she have imagined that the two of you would be having a conversation like this, but she was content to hear your voice again. At one point, she thought she’d lost you forever. “You love him.”

It was clear who ‘him’ was. You sighed out, “I do. So much. I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Lisa snickered, but suddenly became stern and said, “Mark didn’t do any of this to hurt you. He would never. He was scared half to death when Renjun called and said you’d jumped out of a car to come here. As crazy as that sounds, I’m not surprised. You’re full of crazy.”

You laughed lightheartedly. “I’ve done worse.”

“I know. Like, jumped in front of a bullet,” Lisa retorted, then continued. “Listen, that boy is head over heels in love with you. I would know. What he did back there wasn’t a part of the initial plan, but he’s in control of this whole scheme and we urged him to do what he thought was best. He knew you would hate him for this, but he wanted to protect you from Lex for good.”

The tears were coming back and you blinked them away. “Really?”

“It was hard to keep him from socking Lex in the jaw for talking down on you sometimes. He was ready to risk it all for you. That’s how much he loves you. Don’t punish him for that,” Lisa said, smiling ruefully. Then, she presented you with some levity. “Not for too long.”

You laughed like the two old friends you were. You never forgot what those days were like. To be together with people you considered family, you were happy. And now you were no longer forbidden to see each other.

Lisa patted your back. “Go get him.”

“Right now?” you asked, gaping in disbelief.

“Right now,” she repeated, memories of a morose Mark returning. “Any longer and I think he’ll fling himself off one of these balconies.”

“Oh, brother,” you sighed. “Will you be okay?”

“As long as you don’t leave me for another six years.”

You smiled and held out your pinky finger for her to intertwine with hers. “I won’t. I promise.”

Lisa locked pinkies with you. Then, she let you go for the second time and set you free.

You found Mark somberly glancing into the distance. His mood seemed to instantly lighten when the sound of you slumping beside him steered him from his reverie.

“Hi.”

Mark rubbed his neck. “Hey.”

“I’m sorry,” you told him apologetically. “I should have trusted you.”

Mark blurted, “What? No. I’m the one that should be sorry. I’ve been keeping secrets from you this whole time. I should have told you.”

“You’re right,” you replied. You switched on a dime, beginning to knock at his chest fiercely. “What were you thinking?”

He was hardly thinking. It was difficult - he couldn’t function knowing that your life was on the line. You being there meant he had to change his plans entirely because he refused to let anything happen to you. His heart was screaming when Renjun told him about the stunt you’d pulled. Above all else, all he wanted was for you to let him protect you. “I’m sorry, doll. Will a kiss make it better?”

You paused. Then, sang, “Not sure. Kiss me and find out.”

Mark shook his head in delight. “With pleasure.”

Mark enveloped your lips in a kiss. He kissed you like he’d never get the chance again. As if this was his last day to love and hold you, but also as if he hadn’t felt your touch in years. It was so indescribably passionate. The only way you could explain was that it felt like love. Until you met Mark, you thought that you’d been cursed with the inability to fall for someone else again.

When you’d both had your fill, you pulled away for good and asked, “But I am curious - you’re a cop and a gang member at the same time?”

Mark had been waiting for that one. He cradled you in his arms and replied smoothly, “My job in the gang is to be their eyes in law enforcement. Alongside the biking, we became heavily involved in drug trafficking. It’s my job to steer the police off course and ensure they don’t go looking into The Basilisks.”

“And that’s how you got here,” you added, the pieces coming together to form one big picture.

“Yup. I was assigned to look into Bloodlust. It’s no secret that this is where you hid and Lex wanted me to use this case to lure you out. At first, I intended to follow orders. But then I fell for you, baby. And I knew that only over my dead body would I let anything happen to you.”

“Romantic,” you purred. Then, you remembered something and your eyes filled with worry. “Have you seen Yuta?”

“He’s fine,” Mark assured. “They all are. They know this building well. That’s their advantage.”

You blew out a sigh of semi-relief. ”We have to come clean.”

Mark blinked. “Now?”

“Now or never.”

Mark slipped his fingers through yours and brought you to your feet. “Okay. Let’s tell them.”

You smiled. You didn’t want to hide Mark anymore. You wanted to profess your love for him from the rooftops. And you knew in your heart that he wanted to do the very same.

That was how you found yourself in Taeyong’s much larger office. Yet again, he stood alongside Yuta and Ten. It was a little frightening, but you wouldn’t let them unnerve you. You were bold in your love.

Lightheartedly, Yuta tried to lighten the mood with levity, “This is the infamous Markie.”

Mark shook his hand. “Dom Toretto.”

You cleared your throat. “Don’t mind him - he watches a lot of movies.”

Taeyong cut to the chase. “You disobeyed direct orders.”

You stiffened, knowing he was talking directly to you. You met his gaze and didn’t falter. “Yes.”

“And you were aware that you were disobeying direct orders - and of the punishment that shall follow.”

“That is correct.”

Taeyong arched his brow, amused by your boldness. It took guts to disobey the king of the empire. He sat and reclined in his seat and told you sternly, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill both of you right now.”

The gun resting patiently on his desk did not go unnoticed by you, but you dug into your heels and held Mark’s arm firmly. You were honest. “I have none. I’ve disobeyed and deceived you while aware of the consequences. I apologize for that, but I won’t apologize for loving him and I won’t let you kill him without killing me first.”

Ten heaved a breath and took off his glasses, massaging his temple. Then, Yuta leapt up and shouted, “Yes! Run me my money!”

You blinked, only able to watch as Taeyong and Ten exasperatedly drew money from their pockets. Then, it hit you and you shrieked, “You bet money on me?”

“Damn right I did,” Yuta replied, not sparing you a glance as he counted his money.

Noticing the ridiculously perplexed looks on you and Mark’s faces, Ten explained, “Yuta’s had a sneaking suspicion that you were lying about the severity of your relationship with Mark. Jisung tried to tell us, but Taeyong and I thought he was biased because of how much you argue. Clearly not.”

Taeyong deadpanned, “Remind me not to make any more deals with either of you where money is concerned.”

Mark pulled you to his chest, smiling. Some things you just couldn’t hide. His love for you was one of them. “So, we’re off the hook?”

“I usually don't hesitate to punish people for defiance, but I’ll make an exception just this once,” Taeyong replied, smiling wryly. “I take it that your cousin’s gang is in your hands now. Don’t cause any trouble and you’re fine in my book.”

Mark nodded. He glanced down at you and knew that that wouldn’t be a problem. “Deal.”

That night, you and Mark danced in each other's arms, refusing to let go. It was like nothing could come in between you. You knew now that your love was worth the battle and the war. Love always finds a way, a dear friend had told you.

You asked over the music, “Wanna do something really crazy?”

Mark looked at you, eye’s screaming, “Yes!” He would do anything for you - give you the world if you wanted it. Instead of borderline professing his love for you and telling you things that you already knew, he asked, “Like what?”

“Let’s go to Vegas.”

Mark chortled. “That is kinda crazy.”

You argued, “Think about it - no one knows us there. It’ll just be me and you in a city full of people. Doesn’t that sound romantic?”

Mark hushed you and said, “Baby, please. I was already buying the plane tickets.”

You snickered. You knew you had Mark right where you wanted him. And it felt so goddamn good.

You and Mark stumbled out of the tattoo parlor. Given the long flight, you were utterly spent when you arrived, but the second you recharged you knew exactly what you wanted to do.

Get matching tattoos.

Initially, you thought it would have been difficult to convince Mark to get a tattoo with you. After all, they were permanent. But he was surprisingly willing and pleased with the results.

“To a lifetime and a half with you,” Mark told you, mounting the bike you’d left at the curbside of the parlor. You wanted to see how well he could drive one.

Grabbing the pink helmet he handed you, you beamed. Happiness made your heart beat and your blood circulate. “To a lifetime and a half with my Markie pooh,” you teased.

Mark rolled his eyes and wrapped your arms around his waist. “Hold on tight.”

You yelped when the motorbike jerked to life beneath you, and then you were soaring down the roads of Las Vegas, carefree and in love. Nobody could tell you anything when you were with the love of your life.

Love was the greatest weapon of all.

#mark smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #mark lee x reader #nct imagines #mark lee imagines #mark lee smut #nct x reader #nct #nct scenarios

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woso-dreamzzz · 7 months

Text

Nothing But Net II

Leah Williamson x Netballer!Reader

Summary: You've got one of the biggest games of your life and your girlfriend comes to support you

Your foot tapped on unsteady rhythm on the floor of the locker room.

Your throat bobbed uncomfortably.

"y/n...you feeling okay?"

You looked up in shock at being addressed before slowly letting out a long breath.

Funmi, your club and national teammate, was looking down at you, brow raised.

"Yeah." You coughed. "Yeah, I'm feeling good. Why...Do I not look good?"

She winced. "You look a little...green?"

You chuckled awkwardly. "I...I'm just gonna grab a bit of air. How long have we got?"

"Half an hour...maybe a bit less."

"Cool."

You left the locker room quickly, pacing up and down the hall like your life depended on it. With Metcalf out on injury, you were left to fill the role of Captain.

It's not that you didn't want it - you did, desperately - but you thought that your first game as captain would come at London Pulse during a first game of the season.

Not during a final.

Certainly, not during a final for the Netball World Cup.

"You're certainly looking sorry for yourself."

You rolled your eyes as Natalie Metcalf joined you, leaning against a wall with a grin. "Is it that obvious?"

She shrugged. "I saw your football bird turning up. She really likes her netball, huh? I saw her watching when we played Pulse as well. Is she at all your games?"

The barest hint of a smile pulled at your lips. "Yeah," You said," She tries to, at least. I didn't know if she was going to make this one. She had media stuff to do."

"Tough life." Nat blew out a breath. "Being captain of the national team. You'll find out when you lead us to victory."

The pit in your stomach was back with a vengeance.

"We're against Australia," You were practically whimpering," They've been beating us for a while now."

"Then turn it around," Nat replied," Hell, give your pretty bird a show."

You rolled your eyes. "She doesn't like it when you call her 'bird'. She's got a thing against it."

"Then it's a good thing she's not here. Get out on the court, l/n, and get us this win."

●～●～●～●～

The first quarter had you feeling confident.

Plenty of shots came and went but every time the ball was in your hands, it found home in the net, equalising the score at the very last second.

The second quarter came quickly after that but you had just enough time to grab some water and search the court for Leah - finding her the row behind the coaches, relaxed back in her seat with a cap on and a stupid pair of sunglasses on her face that she knew you hated.

She noticed you looking and grinned, tapping the stupid frames and you sneered at her - though both of you recognised the smile poking through.

By the time the second quarter ended though, you were trailing by four points.

"Listen," You said as the group huddled together tightly, feeling the weight of captaincy on your back," It could have gone worse. This is Australia. It could be going a lot worse but...It could be going better. Keep your heads up. Don't let them get that ball and for heaven's sake, don't forget who you're marking!"

Your optimism faded quickly as the third quarter turned to utter carnage.

Australia shut down every option you had, intercepting and blocking at every turn.

You were getting annoyed.

Your team were getting annoyed.

From the corner of your eye, you could tell Leah was getting annoyed - finally sitting up properly, elbows on her knees as she leaned closer to the court.

"Hey, hey, my girl," She said when the break before the fourth quarter began.

"You're not supposed to be down here," You reminded her quickly, your throat closing up like you were about to start sobbing.

"Don't care," She said dismissively, holding your arms tightly," Listen to me, my girl, you're doing great. You're doing amazing. Don't be so hard on yourself."

You scoffed. "Easy for you to say. You captained the Lionesses to Euros victory. What exactly am I captaining the Roses to? Another Australia defeat."

"Enough," She said firmly, her own 'captain voice' appearing immediately," Don't belittle yourself like that. You're captain material, my girl, both for the Roses and Pulse. Go to your team, knock some sense into them and get them to get you that ball no matter the cost. Got it?"

Her hand reached up to cradle your cheek and her eyes were half wild, refusing to move from your face before you nodded.

"Got it."

●～●～●～●～

Leah watched you walk away from her, glancing at the clock to tell you that you had a minute and a half left before the fourth quarter started.

You grabbed Housby and Cardwell on the way, tugging them into a hastily made huddle.

She couldn't hear exactly what you were saying, but you looked serious - face set in a hard line before you all broke away when the buzzer sounded.

It was the tightest of matches.

Every shot Australia took, the Roses missed.

Every shot the Roses took, Australia missed.

The final minute was counting down and Leah shifted in her seat uncomfortably.

Australia - 56

England - 55

An interception is converted quickly at the beginning of the last minute and you shoot effortlessly - equalising the score with ease.

The game resets.

A fake to the right.

Pass into Australia's third.

Intercepted.

Recovered by England.

Passed into the shooting circle.

Into your hands.

Shot lined up.

Shot taken.

Buzzer sounded.

The ball sinks into the net seconds before the buzzer sounds.

Australia - 56

England - 57

●～●～●～●～

You collapsed to the ground, unable to believe it as the team dog pile you - something incredibly violent when compared to the more restrained way that netballers usually celebrate.

You let out a shaky gasp of air as your teammates are pulled from your body and Leah crashed into you. She held you tight, bouncing you up and down before kissing you soundly on the lips like nobody was watching.

"Told you, my girl. You're captain material."

"Means a lot," You said, adrenaline pumping through your body," From the Euro winner."

"Euro winning hardly compares to World Cup," Leah replied, kissing you again," Gonna put your trophy and medal in the cabinet, my girl. Can't wait to tell Keira and G that we've got more world cups at home than they do."

You rolled your eyes fondly, relaxing into Leah's body as she rained the kisses down onto your head.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" She teased," Winning for your country. Looks good on you."

"Looks good on you too," You replied.

She grinned rakishly. "Yeah? We should do it more often."

#woso x reader #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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thatsdemko · 9 months

Text

to live, to learn, and to love - d.ricciardo

masterlist

pairings: Daniel ricciardo x athlete!reader

warnings: time jump + talks of Covid + some depression talks + some inaccuracies of Daniels career

a/n: hope this cheers everyone up xx

2018 - to live

“so what do you guys have planned this summer?” you ask. the tiny microphone clipped to your shirt is finally off for good. for the first time in a year, cameras would no longer follow your ever move, microphones would no longer hover of your head, you could go back to a normal life of training and relaxing. freedom at last.

“we are actually filming a new docuseries, ever heard of formula one?”

you shake your head, puzzle look on your face creates a little laughter from everyone’s lips as they agreed to never hearing about it until Daniel. whoever Daniel was, he seemed to be quite popular to the crew.

“I guess I haven’t, but hey I’m all about growing sports.”

“well you wouldn’t believe where we get to go next weekend— you should come! it’ll be so much fun.”

the film crew talks of Monaco and the infamous track that they’ve learned can be brutal but kind. their invitation lingers around the room for a couple more minutes as crew begins to clean up the scene.

“so? you coming or what?”

“when’s the plane leave?”

—

Monaco roars with noise you’ve never heard. so much so, the noise canceling headphones can’t even drown out the cheers for the drivers. you spend all mid-afternoon shaking hands and learning names of the drivers you’re sure you’ll forget by the night. but Daniel sticks out.

you knew right away who he was. by the laughter and his smile, he had a way with the crew that nobody on your team had. the smile on all the crew members for not only Netflix, but his own team were contagious. he had you smiling within minutes.

“congratulations on your season and Netflix series! I’ve got it downloaded for the plane ride.” he engulfs you into a tight hug for a brief second before showing you his car. the mighty Red Bull car, sleek in its red and blue stripes under the Monaco sun, his pride is contagious, you can’t help but grow confidence in his racing skills.

“how’s Monaco treating you?” you look up at him, his tan skin kissed by the sun and genetics, his beautiful brown curls make your fingers itch to run through them. it’s not only his smile that makes your stomach twirl, it’s all of him.

“just about alright, I’ve got a good spot on the grid and I’m ready to kick ass.” he claps his hands mischievously making a laugh escape your body.

“you’ll do great! I believe in you!”

you like to think your words of encouragement solidified his win in Monaco, but that would be a selfish reason. you’d like to hate Monaco for all the reasons why you left completely enamored by Daniel ricciardo.

2020 - to learn

boredom struck. your legs, mind, and rest of your body itch to train while you’re copped up in your parents house; a tragedy as nobody else lives here. you sit alone in the basement that once had become your personal gym, but now only has a treadmill that you’ve become bored of.

you huff out a sigh, looking around the room there’s not one object heavy enough for you to lift. you curse your parents for taking all the things you needed to their stupid summer home, and you curse them for not wanting to spend time with you.

loneliness was at an all time high. you’d become so exhausted of it, that talking to yourself became the only answer. it was the only thing you had left.

you moved from the big city where all your teammates stayed put. you didn’t bother to look back once restrictions were set in place, you needed to be somewhere sane, but rather that was the opposite. you were going insane.

an alert on your phone pulls you away from the five pound weights in your hand. you look down on the floor to see an Instagram notification which was awfully unusual.

danielricciardo: if I show up on a horse in Austin, would that get me laid?

yourusername: depends. who are you trying to get with?

you can’t help but laugh. you hadn’t heard from him in four years. you’d occasional check his instagram, see what he was doing, and even become friends on LinkedIn, but the boredom must’ve been at an all time high for him to message you.

danielricciardo: you.

—

“I’d kiss the chef.” he says almost immediately once your face comes up on the screen. the apron you’re wearing was to prevent spilling or messes to your clothes, it was definitely not an attractive sight. but to Daniel it was.

“you can kiss me right here.” you point to your ass, hearing his laugh erupt on the other side of the screen. it was morning time in Perth, and by morning, you meant way to fucking early in the morning for anyone but him to be awake.

“what are you making?”

“none of your business.”

“well it’s my business when you call me.” he says watching you prop up the cook book that lay beside your phone. you point to the page that had flour, sugar, and all other ingredients across the page.

“ah a birthday cake, and who’s this for?”

“my neighbor. he turns ninety tomorrow so it’s a big deal! it has to be good!”

“and you need my help why?” he reminds you of why you called. you stick out your tongue and your middle finger earning a laugh. you want more of that laughter, you’d do anything to hear it in person again.

“because what do men like? I need to get him a gift.”

“y/n, I’m thirty. I’m not even close to ninety are you insinuating I’m old?”

a blush creeps into your cheeks that’s noticeable on the screen, “I’m kidding! I get why you called, you don’t have to close off.”

in the minimal amount of time knowing Daniel, he calls you out on all of your shit. like how he knows you missed garbage day based off the way your bathroom looks, or how he judges you for not taking the chance to run faster. he’s far worse than personal trainer, but you’d keep him around for his honesty and his kindness.

“I have to go to the store early tomorrow, so what do you think he’d like?”

“you didn’t buy toilet paper again?”

“people don’t listen to the two per person rule! I swear!”

he tsks you so much you can’t even put in a single word. your nervous laughter fills his ears and warms his chest. why did you have to live thousands of miles away? he’s praying they find a cure for Covid fast, he doesn’t think he can live another second without you.

2021 - to learn

a new year, a new set of restrictions, oh and you.

you, in the silly 2021 plastic glasses, sit on the couch in the mixed of his friends and family in his Monaco home. he couldn’t believe the sight, it was a winter miracle you’d made it out alive of the winter storm to his side.

after months of talking, you’d considered yourselves dating. it was different—with not being physically intimate or even having real dates—but the attraction and energy that flowed through you two was undeniable. you couldn’t stay friends, not after every phone call, text message, and filthy instagram dm, Daniel ricciardo wove his way right into your heart.

“what’s your wish for new years?”

“wish? isn’t it a resolution?” you give him a pointed look watching his hands fly up in defense, “we do things differently here. we don’t set goals, we set wishes. so what do you wish for?”

you think long and hard for a moment staring at the man in front of you. his brown eyes full of life and beauty stare into yours. his family and friends wait patiently as you think to yourself.

“I wish for love.”

he scoffs in response almost instantly. he couldn’t help it, to wish for love felt stupid, but Daniels hand clasping against yours makes your heart flutter and skin warm to his touch, “well your wish came true, because I’m here to show you just how much I love you.”

2022 - to love

pregnant.

it’s no wonder doing mundane activities were killing you, and getting up any time before 6am was a threat to your immune system. little did you know it didn’t matter when you woke up, you’d still be pregnant and with a heavy case of morning sickness.

and while 2022 is looking awful to different from the past two years of your relationship, Daniel was changing. you’d noticed how physically unfit he was for training, and it wasn’t because he lost his touch, he looked more sick than you did.

the smile that once reached his eyes and infected a dozen or more individuals, was fading. the light in his eyes barely shined anymore, and while he should be happy his girlfriend is pregnant, the glow on his face doesn’t reflect his words.

you’d talked with zak, asked him how Daniel had been doing and to monitor his health, but little did you know the same man you trusted was the reason for his depression.

“Danny,” you whisper slightly hoping to god he doesn’t answer, but he hardly sleeps anymore.

your touch sinks his body further into the mattress. you mold your body and growing belly against him, fingers drawing all sorts of relaxing shapes, “I love you,” you whisper trying to your best to hold in the sob desperately trying to escape, “but I hate how sad you are. I miss you, I miss us.”

your sudden words ache his heart. he hears your pain, it makes him lift his hand and clasp his hand on top of yours allowing your silent sob to increase in volume, “what’s happening to you, it’s not right.“

“I know,” he whispers back. his words hang in the room for a little longer before he turns to face you, his fingers quickly wipe your tears, “I’m going to get better. for you, for us, and for her. okay?”

“okay.”

—

“can you keep a secret?”

“depends,” lando responds turning on his heel, his adorable smile turning his lips upward, “what’s my reward?”

“a kiss on the cheek?”

he nods in approval, “kiss first, secret later.” he taps his cheek, watching you roll your eyes before you quickly press your lips to his skin and pull away.

“I’m pregnant.”

“old news, what else?” he shrugs it off.

“Daniels leaving.”

“what?” you watch lando’s shoulders fall as he collapses into the chair below him, “please tell me it’s because of the baby and not anything else?”

your hesitation earns a permanent frown on his lips, “I thought I could save him.” he lets out a deep sigh allowing you wrap him into your arms, “I think it’s what’s best.”

“I agree, but you’ll still have cool uncle rights.”

“yes! oh, that’s the best news ever! I have to tell max!”

Daniels foot steps echo throughout the hallway of the private room you were in with lando. not another soul is in the McLaren hospitality, as everyone had seemed to vanish once practice rounds were over, but you’d stayed waiting despite longing for a warm shower and Daniels hands against your belly. god, how much more love sick could you be? it was evident Daniel didn’t feel much of the same right now, and you tried your best to put on a big smile and positive attitude.

“there he is.” you move over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck pulling him downward so you can press a kiss to his lips.

“I have to stay a little later.” he mumbles before pressing another kiss to your lips, “why don’t you head back with lando?”

“but I want to stay.” you frown pulling away from his body. it gives you a chance to look him in the eyes, the dark circles are much more evident, the glimmer of hope and love have seemed to vanish his eyes replaced with sadness. why did this have to happen to him? it’s just not right, you think to yourself.

“will you at least eat dinner with me?”

he shakes his head, “I really have to get back to the car.” he pushes a strand of your hair behind your shoulder, “why don’t you order room service? it’s on me, get whatever you’re craving.”

“I’m craving you, but you’re making yourself unavailable—again, might I add.”

his eyes close for a brief moment. his fingers play with the hem of his bright orange shirt, you can feel the anxiety radiating off of him. it terrifies you what’s next. “y/n, they are terminating my contract. can you just go home with lando?”

the grit of his words are like nails on a chalkboard. you swear you could feel yourself becoming lightheaded you don’t even realize lando was the one to catch you from falling backward. terminate? they were done with him? you feel a sob take over your body, it takes ten minutes for lando to calm you down, as Daniel was nowhere to be seen.

the car ride to the hotel was silent. with lando taping away on his phone, and you staring out the window in a daze there was nothing that could pull you away. well, maybe there was.

danielricciardo: if I do ridiculous side burns would you still sleep with me?

a snort escapes your lips. he knows how to turn a bad day into a good one.

yourusername: depends. how ridiculous are they?

danielricciardo: so ridiculous you might wish I didn’t get you pregnant.

yourusername: now I would never wish on that. we love you Danny.

love. it’s a strange feeling that’s settling into his chest right now as he stares at zak brown, the man he’d been warned about years ago, but he never listened. now hearing it from you, he knew love conquered all of his fears and anxiety about leaving. because in the end, your love made him feel whole again.

to live, to learn, and to love.

[BONUS SCENE]

2023 - living, learning, and loving

“oh my, you’re so big now! what are they feeding you?” lando’s gasp earns a ripple of head turns. he’s rushing his way over to you and your new born daughter, mila.

“whatever it is, it’s clearly working on you too. what’s this you’ve got going on? is it a beard?” you carefully run your fingers over the hair on his chin making him pull away, a blush creeping onto his cheeks, “fine I’ll shave it.”

“take it from me, the minute I got home from Austin I wasn’t allowed in the bed until I shaved it all off.” Daniel rubs his fingers over the stubby hairs against his cheeks, “some women don’t like that down there—“

“Daniel!” you hiss, hands placed against his chest you give him a hard shove.

the roar of his laughter echoes throughout the paddock. it brings a flock of his friends and former colleagues together surrounding you both and your daughter, mila.

she was a happy blessing out of a horrible year. her arrival was earlier than expected, but seeing Daniels smile finally reach his eyes, it was like she knew he needed that.

“I can’t decide what’s cuter, her curls or her rolls. how do you sleep at night with such a difficult question?” Charles looks between you two and watches the devilish smirk lift upon Daniels lips, “actually don’t answer that, I see where your mind is taking you.”

“it’s good to have you back.” the Ferrari driver smiles. before he walks away he says one more thing to brighten your days, “and I mean that. it’s good to have the you we all love back.”

you lived, you learned, and you’re still loving.

tags: @oconso @xcicix @imsorare @weasleyswizardwheezes-blog @monzabee @lpab @frreyaa @motorsp0rt @lovelytsunoda @smoothopz @jaehyunluvcult @iloveyou3000morgan @lunnnix @leclerc13

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dangermousie · 6 months

Text

2023 End of Year Post - kdrama edition

Yes, we have a some of December left, and I want to check out Death's Game but whatever. I got time for this now and not sure if I will have later so here goes.

This is only going to cover kdramas that aired in 2023; if I watched it but it was made in a different year, it’s not on the list. This was an excellent kdrama year, the likes of which we hadn't had in a long time.

DRAMAS WATCHED

In order of liking from least to most as opposed to pure quality so pls don't come for me, fans of some popular dramas that are on my nope list. Also, I am including if I’ve seen enough to make up my mind; yes I realize that’s inaccurate, but that’s my list.

33. The Escape of the Seven - this is so aggressively stupid and mean that it feels like the makers are playing a practical joke seeing how much their audience will take. This has a season 2 coming, so the answer is a lot.

32. Behind Your Touch - the FL gets superpowers by touching people's and animals' butts. Yes, you read this right. Do I really need to add anything?

31. King the Land - yes, it was a hit. Yes, it stars popular actors. I HATED IT LIKE IT TOUCHED MY BUTT TO GET SUPERPOWERS!!! Plastic people in paint by the numbers story, with about as much genuineness or retability as a barbie aisle in walmart. I never expect much from Yoona so whatever, but to have LJH go from The Red Sleeve to this boggles the mind.

30. Mrs Durian - this is so dumb that I think I lost a few IQ points watching this, but its insanity becomes entertaining - I mean what kdrama can you name where a daughter in law declares her love and lust for her mother in law at a family dinner?

29. The Matchmakers - there is nothing offensive about this drama at all. But there is nothing in the least interesting either. If elevator music took drama shape, it would be this show.

28. Destined with You - sorry, Rowoon, I am still fond of you, but you are two for two in drama duds department this year. This is a drama where I loved ep 1, liked ep 2, was indifferent to 3 and...you get the point. Each ep was worse than the one before, and I bailed before I was dragged into a cosmic singularity.

27. Oasis - great first two episodes. Unfortunately it was not a two ep show. The performances are solid but the story is just not there - the effect is like a fancy chef making an amazing sauce to put on pig slop.

26. Boyhood - it's not you, it's me in action. I can see why people would like it but a 34-year old playing a high schooler in a Weak Hero Class 1 Slapstick Edition is no go for me.

25. Castaway Diva - it's so precious and kooky in the most annoying ways, with the most well-adjusted abused castaway in history. I like magic realism when done by Jorge Amado, but this ain't Amado.

24. Island - it had a good concept, good cast and fun visuals but the execution deserved one of ML's swords through the neck.

23. The Worst of Evil - if I wanted an American show, I'd watch one. Very solid performances though.

22. Song of the Bandits - period edition of what I said about The Worst of Evil.

21. Welcome to Samdalri - and goodbye to any hope of emotional involvement.

20. Joseon Attorney - I have yet to like a single sageuk centered around a profession and this was not an exception. I guess it could be worse but it also could have been so much better.

19. Twinkling Watermelon - everyone loved this drama. Everyone except for me. It's the kind of precious that sets my teeth on edge and I couldn't stand half the main characters we were supposed to root for. I guess I like my fruits to shine steadily.

18. Our Blooming Youth - probably the biggest disappointment on this list. This is not a bad drama by any means, but with that cast and that story (I loved the novel), I was hoping for a memorable sageuk not merely all right.

17. Vigilante - it has the emotional complexity and nuance of a punch to the throat but it gives us quasi-gay openly-murderous dudes going after psychos and Yoo Ji Tae holding feral Nam Joo Hyuk by his hoodie at his feet.

16. The Forbidden Marriage - expected nothing but it was a surprisingly enjoyable trifle of a costume drama that was also quite pretty.

15. Arthdal Chronicles: Sword of Aramun - a hot mess but such an entertaining epic one. And it gave us TWO Lee Jun Kis in period gear and who am I to cavil at the bounty of God?

14. The Story of Park's Marriage - it's a trifle, a souffle, so light it might blow away, but it keeps my attention and is so fun and sweet.

13. My Lovely Liar - a huge surprise, that manages to mix a murder mystery and a romcom, and shocked me by showing Hwang Minhyun can act.

12. Tale of the Nine Tailed 1938 - the original ToNT was my fave drama of its year and I did not think it needed a sequel. But this is not a sequel but more of a side-quel and is such a total delight with brotherly love, adventures, romance and hijinks. It's a joy.

11. Perfect Marriage Revenge - it's actually very hard to do a soap right but this slim 12 ep drama managed. So fun, so crazy, such a good ship!

10. My Lovely Boxer - not really about sports, but about two broken people finding salvation because of and in each other. Also, if you like age gap romances, this is delicious. Sort of loses steam by the end but c’est la vie.

9. The Secret Romantic Guesthouse - this was a sageuk that was not on my radar with a bunch of actors I was not familiar with but it took my heart away. A good plot that was perfectly paced, characters and ships I adored, a logical ending. This is one of the biggest positive surprises of the year for me.

8. Tell Me That You Love Me - a slice of life remake (sort of, it's more "inspired by") of my favorite jdrama of all time. It's not as good as the jdrama because nothing could be, but it's an aching lovely story with some incredible performances.

7. See You In My 19th Life - funny and romantic and haunting and hopeful and odd. This was one of my favorites of the year.

6. Alchemy of Souls: Light and Shadow - it's rare for me to like a (1) sequel (2) with FL actress change (3) that is a Hong Sisters drama. But this was such a gorgeous, surprisingly achy story of love and loss and love regained with some cool monster fighting in the middle. Between the two seasons, this is the first Hong Sisters' drama I enjoyed from beginning to end in well over a decade.

5. My Demon - so tropey (chaebols, supernaturals) but it proves that these tropes are popular for a reason. The chemistry is fire, the story is unpredictable and the whole thing is an addictive delight. A rare drama where I like each new ep more than the last one.

4. Goryeo Khitan War - an old school sageuk in every meaning of the term (no romance, no eye candy, lots of bearded men, battles and politics), this feels like watching an epic movie more than a drama. The vast cast all earns their place and the performances (mainly from character actors given a chance to shine) are incredible.

3. Call It Love - two very very damaged people finding love and healing with each other. This is a narrative very hard to do to my satisfaction but when it's done well, as here, there are few things that can hold a candle to it.

2. My Dearest - a masterpiece of cinematography, narrative, performances. This is an old-school epic romance in the best sense of the term. If it doesn't make you swoon or break your heart, there is something wrong with you. A story of two untraditional, strong-willed, flawed people who fall in love in the middle of the horrifying Qing invasion of Korea and have to deal with all that the world throws at them, this is a bona fide masterpiece.

1 - Moon in the Day - who knew my favorite kdrama of the year will star a store brand Domyoji from Extraordinary You and an actress I was never familiar with. But this part period/part modern fantasy tale of doomed cursed lovers is everything I knew I wanted and everything I didn't know I wanted but did. Two lovers where their love did not save them and in modern day it might not again, has got me obsessed the way I haven't been in years.

FAVORITE DRAMA

Moon in the Day - if there is such a thing as a drama made perfectly for me, this gorgeous, emotionally haunting, utterly romantic, twisty tale is it.

WORST DRAMA

The Escape of the Seven. This drama is proof that demons exist and not sexy ones like Song Kang but horrible nasty ones who delight in the torment this hot mess inflicted on its viewers.

FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER

Do Ha, Moon in the Day - a Silla general and a consummate killer who committed atrocities on the orders of his monster father and yearned to die for them, who found the meaning in life in loving his enemy but it did not make him better, a man so obsessed he literally was around for 1500 years of horrifying ghostly existence and still went "worth it" for a woman who killed him as long as he knew she loved him while she did it. He's intense and competent and beyond fucked up and has never had a normal day and I love him so so so very much from a safe distance.

FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER

Gil Chae, My Dearest - she starts out as vain and spoiled but the horrors that break so many others bring out all her fierce survivor potential and she becomes such a force of nature - capable of incredible love but also sacrifice and strength and compassion.

Runner Up: Shin Hye Sun's reincarnator in See You In My 19th Life - quirky, damaged, strong, so odd and so vulnerable at once.

NEEDS TO BE MURDERED

There are a lot of characters who fit that category (King Injo in My Dearest? My God) but the crown belongs to So Ri Bu from Moon in the Day. You think you've seen abusive parents but until you've seen a man abuse his son his whole life and then continue for 1500 years after his death, you ain't seen nothing!

FAVORITE SHIP

The doomed by the narrative OTP of Moon in The Day. Only thing that's better than enemies to lovers is enemies while lovers and their impossible relationship where her killing him is a supreme act of love and his refusing to let go is so strong that he stays around for 1500 years watching her, helpless as she dies over and over again, is everything you ever want.

Runner up: Jang Hyun/Gil Chae, My Dearest. They are so strong and so damaged and it takes them so long to figure out what they feel and what the other person feels but their love and sacrifice and complexities are perfect.

FAVORITE SECONDARY OTP

Kim Shi Yeol/Hong Joo, The Secret Romantic Guesthouse - an assassin bodyguard pretending to be a carefree scholar and a widow of the man he killed to protect his king (and whose life was destroyed as a result.) I enjoyed the main OTP of this drama but I was utterly and completely unhinged for the secondary couple.

I'd have probably picked Rang and his mermaid from TotNT 1938 even over them, but they really were the main OTP of that drama.

NOTP

King the Land couple seems like an easy target but honestly, they are both so terribly bland and antiseptic and marketing by committee, they kinda deserve each other. So I am gonna go with Destined with You, one half of which thinks supernaturally roofying someone into loving them is cute and the other half thinks dating one woman while wooing another is totally a-ok. Ugh.

FAVORITE SCENE

There is no competition for the scene in the slave market in My Dearest, where Jang Hyun finds Gil Chae - the way he screams and tries to clutch the hem of her skirt will live in my head forever.

And the scene where he 'wins' that horrifying bet, or the scene where she finds him in a pile of bodies - they are as good also. Or when he fights off a squad to protect her even though he's sick. That whole drama is perfect.

Runner up: the scene of Do Ha executing Ri Ta's family, covered in blood, as she looks at him from the crowd in Moon in the Day.

Or the scene where he talks about how he cannot live as a person but at least maybe she will kill him and he will die as one. Or when her confession in the past intercuts with his walking in the present, or when he comes home in his bloodied armor and she finds he has a fever and it's the first tender touch he's probably ever known. Her murdering So Ri Bu saying she knows she's going against filial piety in loving her parents' murderer, the way they hug, both bloody, as he says "let's live." The way she says she can't go on as she's hit rock bottom and he replies she cannot quit because she must accompany him to his rock bottom now. Honestly, the drama is a font of amazingness.

Also, the opening scene of Goryeo Khitan War or the scene of Yang Gyu ordering to shoot the captives and having to do so himself.

The OTP meeting again at the intersection at the end of ep 1 of Tell Me That You Love Me. SHS comforting ABH as he's having a traumatic breakdown in 19th Life. The love-making scene in Call It Love. There were a lot of great scenes this year.

BIGGEST CRUSH

Lee Jang Hyun, My Dearest - is that even a competition? He's flawed - vain, often emotionally closed off, not great at processing emotions, lashing out when hurt. He is also incredibly heroic in a real, knows the cost but bears it, kind of way. Whatever he does, he commits utterly but it's never without understanding the cost. He felt both larger than life and utterly real. He went through hell and maintained his soul and the way he loved Gil Chae was breath-taking to behold.

Runner Up: Yang Gyu, Goryeo Khitan War - an experienced military commander who wins an impossible victory even as it ravages his soul. Competence is sexy as fuck.

BEST SCENE STEALER CHARACTER

Rang, Tale of the Nine Tailed 1938 - 1938 really was Rang's chance to shine and he took it. For a character I started out disliking in the original, he really stole my entire heart in this drama. I am so glad he got his happy ending with his brother and his girl.

Runner Up: Crown Prince, My Dearest. He started out as a sheltered, spoiled aristocrat, convinced the world owed him for existing. He grew up slowly and painfully into an amazing man. And then was murdered for it and I cried.

NEEDS A SEQUEL

Arthdal - it leaves the story at a good stopping point but it's very much a "world in flux, adventures and conflicts continue" ending and I would love to see more of these characters. I know we won't but it would have been nice.

NEEDS SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

Behind Your Touch - should have been snipped at birth.

TOO MANY SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

Vigilante - I don't mean it had scissors taken to it because it's not cdrama and there is no NRTA, but this drama would have benefitted from being longer. I mean, I love fights and gay polycules as much as the next tumblr person but a bit more character development would not have come amiss. (ahaha - I said come. Leave me alone.)

TROPE THAT NEEDS TO DIE

I don't care about cops/doctors/trash collectors/whoever - workplace drama centering on their "cases" needs to die. I hate procedurals from any country and Korea is no exception.

FAVORITE TROPE WE’VE SEEN A LOT OF

Supernatural critter devoted to their OTP with all the power of their long life.

BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENT

Our Blooming Youth - it was far from terrible but it was a giant meh. I was so excited to see Park Hyung Sik in a sageuk (that wasn't the hot mess that was Hwarang) and I adored the source novel. It actually started well and then...it's like Revenge of the Beige!

BIGGEST GOOD SURPRISE

I want to say Moon in the Day but to be honest, I was excited by posters and trailers so it wasn't wholly a surprise despite not having much of an opinion on the actors before I saw them. So I am going to say My Demon. I was bored by the trailers, I can't remember the last time I enjoyed a Kim Yoo Jung drama and before this year I would have said Song Kang was an incredibly limited actor in everything I've seen him in and not appealing to me at all. And here I am rabidly rabiding for this drama!

If I am not limiting myself to dramas but can use this for actors - Hwang Minhyun in My Lovely Liar. I genuinely did not think the man could act and then he gave such a pitch-perfect, nuanced performance out of nowhere!

2023 DRAMAS I HAVEN’T SEEN THAT I MOST WANT TO WATCH

I have actually watched all the kdramas that aired this year that I wanted to check out except for Evilive. I am saving this for when I have time.

BEST NON-2023 DRAMA I’VE WATCHED IN 2023

I don't know if I'd say it's the best but Say You Love Me (2004) with Kim Rae Won as a quasi monk seduced away from his true love by an evil older woman was a hell of a ride.

MOST ANTICIPATED

Love Song for Illusion (Lady assassin falls for her royal target who has two personalities), Captivating the King (lady spy falls for her royal target who is tormented) - notice a theme? Also Flower that Blooms at Night because Honey Lee in a sageuk, The Life of Mrs Ock (Lim Ji Yeon in a sageuk), The Love Story of Chun Hwa (an "erotic" sageuk, hmmmm, what?!), Hong Rang (Lee Jae Wook in a super angst sageuk), Queen Woo (that cast and set in Goguryeo!), Wong Kyung (about Lee Bang Won's wife and I love the cast.) Basically, if it's period, I am there with bells on.

#kdrama #year in review #my dearest #moon in the day #call it love #tell me that you love me #goryeo khitan war #tale of the nine tailed 1938 #tale of the nine tailed: 1938 #The Secret Romantic Guesthouse #my demon #the story of park's marriage contract #perfect marriage revenge #Alchemy of Souls: Light and Shadow #see you in my 19th life #my lovely boxer

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bugs1nmybrain · 6 months

Text

Crusty Kitty~Neko!Shigaraki x Reader Smut 🩵✨️

Notes: I hate myself

Summary: Tomura and his girlfriend end up in quite the predicament after a job gone wrong.

Reader is Described as: having fluffy hair, curvy body, short, female, she/her pronouns, reader wears a skirt, grey/black colored ears and tail.

Warnings: Explicit pet play, 18+ (MDNI), fem reader, breeding, kitty boy Shigaraki AND kitty girl reader, BITING, furry themes?, biting, unprotected sex, dom Shigaraki, unapologetically horny and clingy Tomura, titty sucking, reader is resistant to Tomura's quirk, mention of murder, cringe use of "nya" and other variations of it, mommy kink, cunnilingus, Tomura has white ears and tail, Tomura calls reader a slut, season 5ish Shigaraki (blue hair), shiggy has a noncon-ish thought at one point but the sex itself is entirely consensual, not proofread yet

Fuuuuck...

This was bad.

It wasn't uncommon for Tomura and his crew to run into some people with crazy quirks. Sometimes they'd do the strangest things to their bodies. This one though, it was about to kill Tomura. His newfound tail would not stop wagging and curling itself around his leg, trying his hardest from not grabbing you as you stood in front of him, brushing your hair.

Yesterday, you and Tomura had gone to a little interview to see if this mid-level criminal you two had heard of was willing to join the League. They were well-known in the underworld and had great connections. Tomura hoped to have gotten something good out of the encounter, but he soon discovered what he usually did. Another tryhard who was looking to steal his spot as the ruler of all things evil. So, there was a little tastle, to say the least.

In attempt to protect you, Shigaraki had gone after the villain with physical force. Before he knew it, you and he had been sprayed with some nasty smelling odor, left coughing up a storm. Tomura had managed to snatch ahold of the cocksucker, crumbling him away.

"Achew!" perfumes or anything like that always made Tomura's sinuses act up. "Good riddance. Let's go."

The next morning, you and him woke up to a surprise.

Both of you were decorated in ears, tails, claws, fangs, the whole nine yards. You still looked like people, but...catlike. Like a neko that you'd see in hentai. Tomura couldn't begin to describe the shock that washed over him when he saw you laying next to him with greyish-black ears and a tail of the same color. At first he thought it was just you, but when he felt something fuzzy hit the black of his legs, an instant "oh no" shot through his thoughts.

You two tried acting as if everything was still the same. Okay, so you guys were like this. Didn't mean that operations had to cease, right? Even though the looks that the League gave Tomura made him want to knock each one of them on their asses.

Ujiko said that the effects of the quirk should wear off in maybe a week. That's a long time to have these fuzzy ears and stupid fucking fangs that bit Tomura's tongue when he was least expecting it. Oh yea, his tongue was rough now too. What the fuck.

You. Were NOT helping. Actually, you were adorable. He'd watch as your tail would swerve along around your ass and when your ears would perk up when he asked you a question. Your figure was as breedable as it always was, but something about having the accents of catlike features made him leak. He could smell you now, too. This kitty boy transformation was embarrassing. Not only because of the way he looked but also because he was unbearably horny.

Tomura was horny as fuck already, but this little predicament had him fidgeting so bad and sweating as he looked at you. Your breasts seemed fuller than normal, and your ass was always bucking outwards. You must've been feeling it, too, huh?

It didn't really occur to him that you were both young adults, at prime "mating" time. And it wasn't like you and him were going to get spayed or neutered. It was also super convenient that this had happened right as you were at a high chance of pregnancy within your reproductive cycle. If that didn't make you horny enough, you sure as hell were now.

He watched you brush your fluffy hair, trying to avoid hurting your ears. He wondered if you'd tingle if he touched them. "Let's see..." he thought.

When Tomura stepped toward you, his tail immediately started wagging eagerly. Your eyes darted at him and you noticed how much taller he was than you, making you tingle. You wanted him to dominate you so bad.

"Do you know how bad your cunt smells right now?" Tomura husks, nuzzling his face into your hair. He breathes in your lady musk and grinds his groin against your back.

"I'm sorry..nyuahh..."

"Are you serious? Hehehe!"

"Sorry!"

"Shhh..mmm...back your ass up again..."

So you did. You rubbed your ass up on his crotch, tail flicking in his face. God, you made him throb so baaad. You looked up to his face while you coated the crotch of his pants in your soaked cunt, seeing his dilated red eyes that screamed "I'm gonna breed you so bad."

"You're such a sexy kittyyy,,,nyah.." he teased. You couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but the way he rutted against you gave you the impression that he was yearning. He teased his fingers on your ears, scratching behind them while you mewled. The way you reacted made him snicker. He bit your neck without warning, eliciting a yelp from you.

"Mmm! Tomuraawwhh~ what are you doing??

"I need you mommy...let me fill you with my kittens..nnyeow..."

Your cunt arched back on instinct. Tomura hiked up your skirt, showcasing your ass and cunt. It was dripping wet, begging for him to stuff you. He swore he could even see your clit twitch. Oh he wanted to fuck you silly, but he'd feel bad leaving you hanging. And he always got so sleepy after he came, and his catboy transformation made him need naps all the time. His white tail raised up as his cock leaked more at the thought of tasting your pussy.

"Get in bed," he commanded. Without hesitation, you nodded vigorously with a beaming "mhm!" and got in bed. You lie down on your back with your legs spread. You still had panties, but they were perfectly drenched, and there was glossy fluid glazing your thighs. Tomura took their handles and yanked them down, admiring the sight your puffy clit.

It didn't take any time before his mouth was latched onto your hot, wet cunt. Your smell was driving him feral, making his cock leak and twitch with vigor.

"Nyaahh...~!" you screamed. Your cunt was insanely sensitive and Tomura's rough tongue was relentless on your clit. The texture against your cunt drove you crazy as you rolled your hips. But Tomura held your thighs and devoured you, determined to have you cumming in minutes. You went to tug at his thick blue locks, petting his white ears as you did so. His teeth clamped down, though he tried to keep his mouth away from your pussy as he did. Even he respected that a bite to your pussy wouldn't feel very nice.

He mixed in some finger action, too, though he hadn't even thought that his claws may hurt you. He scratched your thighs gently while he continued attacking your cunt with his mouth. He looked up, seeing how full your tits looked underneath your tight tanktop. "Change of plans", he thought.

Tomura came up to your neck, licking and covering you in love bites while he pulled your shirt below your tits. Your nipples were flushed and incredibly sensitive, as you trembled at the slightest touch of his fingers. He cackles a bit and then latches his mouth onto your breast, sucking as if he was feeding on you. He made sure to rub your clit while he did it, hoping to have you cumming while he sucked your titties.

Bingo. With just a few precise motions and his rough mouth, you spasmed on his fingers and cried out in agonizing arousal, creating the most animal-like noises. Fuckkk...

"MMww...Tomuraahh~"

"Ehehehh..what is it? Does my kitty slut need to be stuffed..rrr~..."

He was purring! fhzjdijfas

"Mhm!"

"C'mere, then..."

Tomura manhandled you and flipped you onto your stomach. The sight of your supple ass made him buck, freeing his cock from his painfully tight jeans. His cock was pulsing and almost red from how pent up and horny he was, tip leaking with plenty of pre. He slapped his cock over your hole a couple of times and then proceeded to sink himself inside of you deeply.

"Awh!~"

FUckk...was he drooling? Your pussy felt SOOO wet and hotter than the Sahara. And yet, you were still suffocating him and unbearably tight. He plunged his cock in and out of you, making you scream underneath him. You sounded so gooey and wet and his cock kept thrusting in and out of your soaked cunt, and the added bonus of his hips smacking against your ass made it evident to the whole League that you were getting a good serving of Shigaraki right now.

Your mouth hung open for your cute fangs to show. Tomura shoved his fingers into your mouth, feeling around your sandpaper tongue. You bite his finger on accident, making him shout.

"OW! You bitch!"

He wasn't mad, though. He just cackled and growled to himself with his sore finger rubbing your lips as he pounded your cunt relentlessly. You were so small underneath him, making his dominant instincts fuck you even rougher, knowing that if you wanted to leave he had all the power to keep you under him. Your pussy fluids were leaking your your thighs onto the sheets. Fuck, you two smelled AWFUL, too. "This will need much needed cleanup," Tomura thought.

"Mmm!~ Nywah~ you love my kitty cock filling you up, huh??~"

"Yeaaawh~"

He sounded just as loud as you right now, crying and mewling out and in desperate need to pump you full of his cum. He bit your sensitive ear while he tugged on your tail, causing your ass to lift higher. His cock shoved itself into your core repeatedly and his balls slapped your ass. He bruised your cervix while he rammed you and he was going to cum soon, you could tell by how rough he was getting.

"T-rr-t-tomura!"

He didn't respond with words, instead driving himself in your body a few more times before eventually slamming deep into your cunt with a final yowling groan...Tomura rocked his cock into you even after he came, his sensitive cock aching terribly. When he pulled out he watched as his cum dripped out of your cunt, making him cry.

"Rrrr-hr-hrrr....mawhmmmy~"

"Mmm?"

"I loveee yew~"

"Eheheee...really??"

"rrrr..yeaa. Cuddle me."

It wasn't a request, but rather a demand, as Tomura wrapped his arms around you and practically trapped you in his grasp. He purred in your ear while he smothered you in his embrace, nipping at your ear and neck.

"Hey!"

"Mhmhm what?"

"That hurts."

"But I love you~" his raspy voice mewls.

"rrrr whatever..."

"Say it back."

"I love yeww Tomura~ you know I do."

What a wild turn of events, he thought. Your smell was still driving him crazy, but now that he made you his little cumdump he was ready to nap, and he wasn't going to allow you to leave. Both you and Tomura drifted off into slumber, purring in each other's arms, snuggled as close as humanly (..) possible.

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura smut #shigaraki smut #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shiggy x reader #neko shigaraki

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basketprutas · 3 months

Text

I can't stop feeling, I want her love ♡

Prompt: Childe, captain of your rival school's soccer team, helps you clear out the soccer field and closes it up with you. Will he stop being an asshole? Probably not.

Characters: SoccerPlayer! Childe x Fem reader

Genre: Modern High School Sports AU, school rivals to something more?

Notes: This prompt was in my mind and I couldn't help but bring it to life. I hope y'all like this!

Now playing... She wants me (to be loved) by The Happy Fits!

Soccer practice was always fun but sometimes sharing the field with your rival team isn’t the best idea. You had no choice though, both your team and Childe’s booked the same field for the same time slot and now you had no choice but to practice with their team.

You’re not complaining, with the start of the season coming up next week, having a rough practice with his team can prep you and your team for what’s to come. It was a great match, with both teams doing their best until the very end. Though it ended with a tie, you and Childe were fine with the outcome. With both of your teams being the best out of all the other teams, you were expected to meet in the finals anyway.

Now late at night, the cold breeze blows through the field as both you and Childe pick up the balls all over the place. He was moving the cart for the soccer balls while you picked them up. Childe, of course, was being a piece of shit by teasing you as you went around the field.

“You wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.” He laughs as you pick up the balls. “Projecting now, are we?” You replied, not backing down from his usual antics. “Just admit it, you have a stupid little crush on me. You should just leave me alone, you know.” He nudges your shoulder. “While I would love to do so, you and I are unfortunately stuck together while we’re still in season.” You groan.

“You’re annoying, you know that right?” “I’m doing nothing but helping you clear out the field, Jesus.” “Whatever, you just wanna stare at my eyes all night long.” He teases, and your face turns more sour as he continues talking. “It’s funny how you always get upset so easily.” He added.

“And it’s frustrating how you sound like a fucking frat boy that’s desperate.” “Says the girl who can’t take a joke?” He stopped rolling the cart and when you picked up a ball, you threw a ball in his direction, a little harder than you anticipated. Childe grunts as the soccer ball hits his stomach, and you laugh it off.

“You trying to get me hurt or something?” He complains and you can’t help but feel bad. “Sorry, got caught up.” You say as you pick up more balls and shoot them to the cart. “God I hate you,” He replies. “Yeah of course you do.”

Once you and Childe gather all the soccer balls, both of you sigh in relief. All that’s left to do is to clear out the locker rooms and you can leave the field soon enough. The locker room was a mess, with scattered equipment here and there and some water bottles too. You start clearing the mess by starting with the trash.

“How the hell does everyone, even my own team, leave this place a mess.” You complain as you clean up. “Because we’re tired after training, is what it is,” Childe replies as he sees you struggle a little bit. “Need any help?”

“Just clear out the equipment over there.” You point at the scattered equipment and he nods as he starts to do what you asked. Feeling a little bit of awkwardness, Childe tries to stir up a conversation. “So uh, you going to the game of the other teams?” He asks hesitantly. “The others? I mean, they could never compete against us. Contrary to popular belief, I do believe you and your team are good.” You reply nonchalantly.

“Cocky, but seriously- you’re going?” He says as he puts back the last of the equipment. “Probably. Still need to look out for that one guy from Inazuma, looks promising.” “He is good, though he won’t have a chance to play considering he’s up against me and my team.” He laughs.

“Not unless my team wins first.” You say as you tie the last garbage bag. “Like you’ll actually win. I don’t know why you bother to try, honestly.” He rolls his eyes. “We may have lost last year but I swear this year is promising.” You reply as you remember last year’s finals.

“And how will things be different this year?” He teases. “You know what, let's make a bet. If your team wins, I’ll do whatever you want.” He adds, and you turn to face him. “I gain nothing from that. No thanks.” You grab your bags and lock up with him beside you.

“Psh you’re such a coward,” he laughs. “Who’s to say I don’t want something too? Let's just bet, come on captain.” Both of you were now walking out of the soccer field. “Excuse me?” You reply, staring at him in disbelief. “Did I stutter? If I win, have dinner with me. What’s so bad about that?” He smirks.

“You’re unbelievable, fine! If my team wins you’ll do whatever I want and if you win I'll eat dinner with you.” You say, defeated. He just never seemed to back down even in things as foolish as this. Childe does a little victory dance and you scowl and cringe as you watch him do so. “Oh, you are SOOO on. If you lose, prepare for the best dinner of your life.” “Whatever you say, Ajax. Have a good night.” You reply as you reach the exit of the field. “Goodnight captain!” He says as he runs over to his car.

The night may be over, but things just got interesting.

As you drive back home, you can’t help but laugh off everything that just happened.

Childe was always a tease, and even in previous games you would notice his tenacious energy. Your casual banter with him before and after games was always a pain in the ass, but no one can complain, after all, you and his teams were the best out there. You’d eventually see each other and be the finalists every season. Now with a little bet placed, you can’t help but feel a little motivation to do better than before.

Why did Childe make the bet in the first place? You could only guess.

END.

Notes: TEEHEE I felt so giddy writing this and I may or may not have another part already in the works... so if you guys actually want me to continue this ill post the next part soon enough >:) (also none of this is probably true to what soccer is but shhh for the sake of the story lets just say soccer does have equipment LMAO)

I recently started writing again; click here to learn more about me ^-^

Inbox is always open for suggestions and comments.

-Clara

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #ajax genshin #childe x reader #childe imagines #tartaglia #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia genshin imagines #childe genshin imagines #childe #genshin #genshin x reader #basketprutas

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taylorkellyreporting · 5 months

Text

i hope no one minds if i inconsistently liveblog this bitch: doctor who season one from 1x04

1x04

HELLO??

A WHOLE YEAR???

shit

“you’re 900 years old?” “yeah.” “my mum was right, that is one hell of an age gap.” lmfaooo

“i’m the only person who knows it exists.” spoke too soon

damn, he left her. i wonder if the key he gave her was even real.

it was a pig 😭

OH NOOOO

every time they get separated, shit goes off the rails

IS HE GONNA KILL HER MOM?!

1x05

girl, FUCK the emergency protocols

“sorry.” 😭

that shit was intense

“my mother’s cooking.” “good, put her on a slow heat and let her simmer.” CACKLING

i feel so bad for her mom :(

1x06

this episode really is…something.

why the fuck is the doctor just offering up all of this information???

he really should have seen this coming

*pretends to be shocked*

their cockiness is gonna get them killed

i never want rose and the doctor to be separated EVER again

“what use are emotions if you won’t save the woman that you love?” damn

don’t know how i feel about this dude joining them

1x07

“he’s your boyfriend.” “not anymore.” did i miss something???

something’s wrong…

is that guy dead?

i don’t trust adam at all

rose is so stupid. i could understand if it was mickey she was trusting but she doesn’t even know this man

huh, that was unexpected.

what the actual fuck

1x08

this ep’s gonna be so sad

the doctor never should’ve taken her to that day

“alright, i’ll tell him you’re not my boyfriend.” obsessed with her thinking that was the issue 😭

not important but jackie looks really good with her hair like that

well. that was heartbreaking.

1x09

sorry, but if a kid wearing a fucking plague mask was repeatedly saying “mummy” in an eerie voice, i would have turned and walked the other way. r.i.p. to rose but i’m different

what part of “don’t answer it.” is hard to understand? lmao

“excellent bottom.” gross.

i know i sound like a broken record but what the fuck?!

this is one creepy ass episode

this dude is coming on so strong dkgjgks

“finally, a professional.” rose, be serious.

“they’re not dead.” okay.

girl, what the fuck?

1x10

i can’t believe that worked lmfaooo

“those would’ve been terrible last words.” 😭

“half this street thinks your missus must be messing about with mr haverstock, the butcher. but she’s not, is she? you are.” SCREAMING

“i sent it to its room. this is its room.”

that’s fucking terrifying

“the first day i met him, he blew my job up. that’s practically how he communicates.” pls

“okay, so he’s vanished into thin air. why is it always the great- looking ones who do that?” “i’m making an effort to not be insulted.” “i mean…men.” “okay, thanks, that really helped.” fkfhhgdj

i hate jack for interrupting their dance. IT WAS JUST GETTING GOOD.

“carry on with whatever you were…doing.” “we were talking about dancing.” “it didn’t look like talking.” “didn’t feel like dancing.” 😭

these episodes are so fucking creepy but they’re definitely the best of the season

oh my God, he’s her son

THEY’RE DANCING 🥹

1x11

i can’t wait for mickey’s reaction to jack

“trust me, safest place in the universe.” famous last words

i hope the doctor doesn’t trust her

poor mickey

“it’s always the doctor, it’s never me.” buddy you should’ve known you weren’t first choice when she left you in the beginning

she’s an egg 😭

1x12

i almost don’t want to press play.

lmao, what the hell

it always comes back to floor 500

oh shit, the doctor cause all of that?

WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK

rose can’t be dead

THANK GOD

i can’t believe the daleks actually survived

1x13

i’m not ready to say goodbye to nine

rose is getting a taste of her own medicine with the doctor and lynda djfjgjs

HE KISSED THEM BOTH 😭 I LOVE JACK

i can feel my heart breaking

who the fuck is bad wolf if it isn’t the daleks???

mickey’s really getting on my nerves this ep

HELLO

“there’s nothing left for me here.” ‘nothing?” “no.” she’s RUTHLESS 😭 but honestly he shouldn’t be surprised at this point

JACK ☹️

“i am the bad wolf.” BITCH???? WHAT????

i got my kiss but at what cost

OH SHIT THEY LEFT JACK

all i feel is pain

that’s it??? how am i ever going to move on from eccleston? how the hell are you guys strong enough do this every season? cause i’ll tell you how i’m doing: not well, bitch!!

#long post #doctor who lb #doctor who #doctor x rose #ninerose #rose tyler #mickey smith #jackie tyler #jack harkness #rose x nine #nine x rose

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muxshwriting · 2 months

Text

first time

George Weasley x reader

summary: a surprise meeting in the library spawns a new nickname, baby || words: 841 || masterlist

You were in the library, trying to get your potions homework done and out of the way. You wanted to get some practise in for the quidditch try-outs happening in less than a month. Unfortunately for you, the book that you needed was on a shelf that you couldn't quite reach. You glance around, wondering if there was anyone you could ask to help. When you saw no one there, you sigh and try once again to reach the book.

A red-haired boy wandered into her section and began browsing for a title on one of the lower shelves. He plucked a book from the shelf and tucked it under his arm. As he turned to leave, he seemed to notice that you needed some help reaching her book. He walked over to you and reached an arm up to the book shelf you couldn't reach.

"Which one do you need?"

You point it out to him. "The Secrets of Potion Ingredients and Properties. I need to get an essay done for Snape by Monday."

The boy pulled down the book and handed it to her. "Ouch. Snape's essays are always the worst."

He let out a small laugh as you reply. "Yeah. I think you Gryffindor's have it harder than the rest of us. He really seems to hate all of you."

"Yeah, maybe. You a Ravenclaw then?" He took note of your tie.

"Yes. Thank you for getting my book."

"No problem, mystery Ravenclaw girl."

"Y/N."

"No problem Y/N." He smiled.

The boy walked away from her, a small sway in his step that wasn’t there earlier.

"Wait!" You said after him, louder than you should in a library. "What’s your name?"

The boy turned back to her. "I’d love to tell you, but watching you try to find out would be better, bye baby."

You were left standing in the library, completely distracted from your work, staring after the ginger boy as he ran away. He looked familiar to you but you couldn't place a finger on where you knew him from.

It was two weeks later that he passed you in the halls and caught your eye. Then he winked. He fucking winked at you and then continued walking as if nothing had happened.

It took another week until you realised where you knew him from. He was one of the Weasley twins, the beaters for the Gryffindor quidditch team. That day, you quite literally ran into him in the hallway and he knocked you to the floor.

Before he could even speak, you started the conversation. "Which one are you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Which twin? I figured that out but not which one you are."

The boy smiles wryly. "Alright you caught me, I'm George."

"It's nice to meet you George."

He smiles even brighter, if that's possible. "I'm glad to hear it baby."

He's running off before you can reply, once again leaving you standing and watching him leave.

The weeks change everything and you find yourself seeking out George in your free time. He finds your eyes from across the great hall and will pull you aside in hallways, trying to persaude you to skip so you can hang out.

Breathing is easier with him, living is easier with him. But you can't get him to stop using that stupid nickname, 'Baby'. It annoys you everytime he uses it but there's a stupid lovesick look on his face whenever he says it.

But then things get serious. Quidditch season begins and as players for rival teams, your Captains would grill you if you were friends with the rivals. George could tell something was wrong as soon as you joined him that afternoon, discomfort written all over your face.

"What's wrong baby?"

You frown at the nickname, once again. "Don't call me that."

"What's wrong?" He's still smiling, trying to cheer you up.

"I can't hang out with you anymore. Quidditch season is starting and if I'm friends with other players, my Captain's gonna start asking questions."

George laughed under his breath. "You're worried about quidditch."

"I was worried about losing this, and now I am. I know you care a lot about quidditch and I don't want to-"

Now it was George's turn to be serious. "Y/N, I couldn't care less about a stupid game!"

"What?"

"I don't give a shit about quidditch. Especially if it's making you worry this much."

"Then what do you care about?"

"You!"

Silence filled the room.

"Me?"

"You."

"Me?" You ask again.

George laughed slightly. "Yes, you. I care about you baby, you're a cool girl. I don't care what Wood has to say about it. I want to spend time with that cool girl."

You laugh. "Alright. Me and you Weasley. Screw the Captains."

"Screw the Captains." He agrees. "Who are they to tell us who we can be friends with?"

"Yeah! Me and you, friends except during quidditch."

He winked again. "Maybe even more than friends baby..."

"Sure thing, lovebug." You tease back.

"Lovebug? I like it."

taglist: @aoi-targaryen

#george weasley #george wealsey x reader #harry potter #wizarding world #muxsh #muxshwriting #first time

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heleeanthea · 7 months

Text

There is only one thing that I feel having watched last episode and it's disappointment. Not even sadness, not even anger, im just disappointed.

Izzy Hands deserved better.

We all, as the audience, deserved better.

You know, when the first season came out I was one of those people who really did not like Izzy at all. I almost couldn't believe that his fans even existed. Then, before second season I thought, well, Im sure that they will give him a redemption arc but Im going to hate him anyway as there is nothing that can redeem him in my eyes. I was so very sure of it.

Wrong, I was wrong. I admit it.

I loved his arc in second season, I loved every second of it. Truly. It has done what seemed utterly improbable to me - made me Izzy Hand's nr. 1 fan. It was just such a great piece of writing. From his initial first disobedience towards Blackbeard and then his finding himself and his worth outside of Blackbeard. His singing (he's great), doing drag (so beautiful), helping Stede, being a friend to him, helping Lucius, finding a family within the crew and finally, finally achieving what - as he said himself - piracy is about: belonging. He found his place, became the new unicorn. He begun to accept himself, to finally let go of all that bitterness that he had inside him in the first season. He allowed himself to be true to himself, to show his more vulnerable parts to the world. He was starting to feel better.

And then they killed him. And what makes it even worse, they did it in such a stupid, useless and anticlimactic way.

You see, Im generally against killing Izzy. I find it to be an utterly disappointing conclusion of his arc. The guy changed so much for the better during this season, becoming a better person as well as becoming more mentally stable and I believe that his arc deserved to have a much brighter and more optimistic conclusion. Where is a scene where he becomes a captain on The Revenge and finally is at peace? Free from Blackbeard, with his found family next to him?

Where is a promise to all lost, young, queer people that thing will get better even though now you may feel no hope?

We didn't get it. What we got was a rushed sequence that was directed more toward serving Ed's arc than Izzy's.

Why did he get shot? No reason, it was just random; it wasn't in a fight, it wasn't the unicorn protecting someone from his crew (which would make his death slightly less bad). The sole reason of him getting shot was to kill him off.

Was it needed for his arc? Well, it could have been done better and make more sense, yes. But wouldn't it make a more satisfying ending to give poor guy some happiness? When the whole season was focused on him earning it and allowing himself to feel it? It would turn out much better to acknowledge his growth and give him space to grow even more.

I don't even feel like Izzy's death was necessary for Ed's growth; not when both their arcs focused on finding themselves outside of constituting Blackbeard.

That's why I hate how Izzy's actual death moment is played out. The scene isn't about Izzy, it's about Ed. It's so focused on him that it almost hurts. Why is Ed the only one who's close to Izzy? Why is the crew so far away? Izzy loved them, they loved him, why don't they come closer and show it, he deserved it. And even Izzy's words, they are so focused on him telling Ed thing's that he needs to hear to grow further but... he doesn't need to hear it from him? It doesn't have to be Izzy who tells him that the crew loves him (which, arguably, is not really true as they are still wary of him after all that happened in the beggining of the season??), especially not when it's the last chance for Izzy to be told that he is loved, he is a part of the community, to be forgiven and apologised to.

And then they get over him so so fast? Just seconds after the funeral Stede is standing there and... trying to boast what great piece of pirat he is? Trying to make Zheng compliment him?

Also, why shoot him in his left side, missing all the important bits, and then have him die anyway?

#izzy hands #our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd s2 #omfd spoilers #omfd s2 spoilers #edward teach #con o'neill

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letstrythisout4 · 2 months

Text

Chapter 3: Blaise Zabini and his increasing exasperating day

Series Masterlist

By the third week of school Blaise had a schedule set up. Wake up at 7am and take a run around the Quidditch pitch. (And when Quidditch season starts he has already decided he’s just going to wake up even earlier). Take a shower, get ready and make it to the Great Hall early enough to be the first person to sit down at the Slytherin table.

The schedule is perfect. He gets to dodge his roommates, release some energy on his run, take his time getting ready to make sure he feels prepared for the day; all with enough time to make sure he gets access to all the food first so he isn’t just eating everyones leftovers.

It’s great.

It also allows him plenty of room to switch up his schedule. Nothing major, getting up at 7 and being first at the table are non negotiable. But everything in between can be subject to change.

Which leads to situations like today, where Blaise is heading to the kitchens for the first time in his Hogwarts career. After reading through Hogwarts : A History Blaise has come to the conclusion that the best way to get an audience with the Hogwarts elves is through the kitchen. As he approaches the infamous painting with a bowl of fruit which is said to lead to his destination, Blaise stops and for the first time wonders, “What the hell am I going to say?”.

This leads to Blaise pacing in front of the portrait for a good few minutes having an internal debate with himself.

Ok, what’s my end goal?

I want to be in their good graces.

Why?

Because they do so much for the castle and everyone is ungrateful.

…cute. What else?

…It would be nice if they would drop off my clothes when I’m there so I can organize them. How I like it, to keep it in perfect condition.

That sound so fucking pretentious.

Well I am pretentious so what of it?

Fair.

But how am I going to word that?

I don’t know, it's probably best to just be honest and get it over wi-

“Can we help you sir?” squeaked a voice to his left.

Blaise, stiffly, turned towards the voice to find an elf poking her head out from behind the portrait. All that could be seen was her bat-like ears and large blue eyes.

“Yes, actually I was wondering if I could speak to an elf about some…request I have concerning my clothing?” Blaise choked out.

I hate this, is all Blaise could think as he watched the elf process what he just said. How could I be so stupid as to not plan this out? I always plan out my conversations, that’s what I do, I plan.

“Would you like to discuss it now or shall I find you later, sir?”

“Now works just fine.” said Blaise doing his best to hold in his frown at the formal way she addresses him.

“Oh well,” she muttered, clearly unprepared to have someone actually want to speak to her “ please come inside so that we can figure something out.”

Bliase followed her through the portrait and took a breath just to absorb all the wonderful smells he was suddenly surrounded by. He did his best not to stare at the way the elves were so focused and coordinated in their movements in preparation for the children they were about to serve.

The little elf sat him down at a small table against the wall, out of the way of the mass operation commencing at the same time that Blaise came to beg for them to take special care in delivering his laundry.

I don’t like this.

“So what I can I help you with?” she practically whispered, refusing to make eye contact.

I don’t like this.

“I’m sorry I’d just prefer if instead of putting my clothes away for me, if we could set up a time where I can take the clothes from you personally, so I can put them away myself.”

She did a slow absent blink.

“I just am really particular about how I have my personal items set up, I have systems etc. So I’d really just appreciate it if you could give me my clothes directly.”

Another blink.

I don’t like this.

You’re too deep now, you must commit.

“I’ve noticed you all tend to clean the rooms and put away the clothes between 11pm-12am every Tuesday while I’m at astronomy with the other Slytherins of my year.”

Another blink.

“So if instead you could meet me just before or after astronomy so that I can take care of it myself, that would be perfect.”

Another blink.

Blaise whipped his palms on his slacks as covertly as he could under the table.

Why won’t she say something?

“You don’t want us to put away your clothes for you?” she mumbles with a shaky breath.

“Yes…” Blaise is starting to become incredibly worried with the condition that the elf is in.

“But everyone prefers it when we do it for them.” She now has a tone of confusion that does nothing to aid Blaise’s stress levels.

“Well I am weird in that sense, I have a bit of an obsession with organization so-” he trails off trying to find the right words “- I really appreciate all that you all do for us but if I could do this one thing for myself I would be infinitely happier.”

Another blink.

Blaise sends her his most disarming smile.

“Okay.” she agrees as if she was winded.

“Okay?”

“Okay, what’s your name sir?”

“Blaise Zabini.”

“Well Mr. Zabini, I shall ensure to arrive 30 minutes before your astronomy class with your clothes.” she promises with wringing her hands together.

“Thank you so much…”

“Daisy.” she stammered.

“What a lovely name, thank you so much Daisy. I’ll see you then.” Blaise said quickly.

Eager to be finished with that conversation and out of the kitchens, he walks as quickly as possible without looking rushed out of the kitchens and to the Great Hall.

I hated that.

I hated that so much.

Why the hell didn’t I plan that conversation out.

The things I do for organization, is the last thought Blaise allows himself to have before he stares at all the food before him losing his appetite entirely only being able to force down two pieces of bread with jam and a chalice of apple juice.

--------------------------------------

He sets off to History Of Magic the second he convinces himself that he’s eaten enough. He arrives beyond early, not even Binn’s is here yet. The classroom is set up the same as a muggle ‘Lecture’ classroom he visited for an abroad program in the States- though he’d never voice the comparison outloud. He takes his usual seat- he far back against the right wall to give him a perfect view of the entire classroom. Pulling out his textbook, parchment and his quills and sets himself up for today's lecture.

Blaise loves History of Magic.

He might be the only person to have ever sat in this classroom and to have thought that unironically. And he’s fine with that. There’s something about history that has always consumed Blaise. And it seems not even Binn’s monotone voice can kill his love for the stories of the past.

And so by the time Blaise has perfected his setup, students begin to trickle in. First is a Hufflepuff girl. Blaise has seen her around before; it's practically impossible not to, considering they share 3 classes together a week, but it's more than that. She seems to not exist outside of these classes. Everyone else Blaise catches a glimpse of in the hallway or at dinner or lunch or just somewhere. But she seems to disappear the second she walks out of the classroom.

And it pisses Blaise off.

Blaise likes to think of himself as observant. He knows things about people. He can tell that despite having met only in the beginning of the year two Ravenclaw boys are already squabbling with each other. He can tell that ever since she’s demonstrated her brilliance Hermione Granger has been isolated from her house. He can tell when Flitwick is having a bad day. He can tell Pansy is getting an irritating letter from home. He can tell when Susan Bones is talking down to Anthony Goldstein despite her sweet tone.

What he can’t tell is who the hell this Hufflepuff is. All he has is a name and information gathered from his eavesdropping. Name: “Isabella Reyes”. Isabella is apparently Black and Latino, which tracks with her light brown skin and curly black hair constantly pulled into a messy ponytail. She’s a Hufflepuff. Blaise had to stop himself from exclaiming, “No shit we all wear house robes.” when he heard someone whispering it to their friend group like it was the juiciest piece of gossip ever heard. And that’s it.

That is all Blaise has gathered in the weeks since starting school.

And it keeps him up at night.

And what is most upsetting is, there is no real way to fix this.

Blaise refuses to become a stalker, eavesdropping hasn’t gained him any information, and he will not speak to her directly.

Not even an option.

This plagues him. Far more than it should considering he’s never spoken to her.

But just as he starts to gain momentum in his frustration Binns begins the class…and at what point everyone filled in the seats Blaise couldn't tell you.

An hour and half later, Blaise has been sufficiently distracted with information about Emeric the Evil.

That is until he runs right into the problem he needed to be distracted from, knocking her right to the floor.

Damn. Two unplanned conversations and one bad meal in a day. What have I done to deserve this? Blaise asks the Universe as he puts out his hand to help Isabella up.

“Thanks.” she says shortly as he takes his hand.

A short “a”. She pronounced “Thanks” with a short “a” sound.

“You’re American.” Blaise states plainly, pulling her up.

All this time and the first thing and that's the first thing I say? I don’t know what I did, but Universe I am sorry.

She looks at him like he's an idiot. “Yes, thanks for pointing that out for me.”

They both start collecting her books and papers from the floor. Why have a school bag if you're just going to carry everything in your hands?

Blaise hovers with tense shoulders as he hands her her things to put away. Finished, she turns to leave and makes it four steps before turning back around and asking, “Can I ask you a weird question?”

“You just did.”

She was not amused with this response.

“I’m going to take that as a yes. What were you doing pacing outside the Hufflepuff common room?”

Daisy must have rubbed off on Blaise because all he could think to do was blink.

“This morning~” she taunts.

“I wasn’t pacing outside of your common room, I was pacing outside of the kitchens.”

She was quick, “Why?”

“I needed to ask for a favor from the elves?”

“Why?”

“Because I need their help.”

“Why?”

“None of your business.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I’ve seen you people watching. I’ve seen you blend into the background and listen in on people’s conversations.”

There’s a beat.

“Incorrect, try again.”

Another beat.

“Excuse me?”

“What you are implying is factually incorrect, I don’t do any of those things on purpose. They just happen.” Blaise said confidently.

Blaise Zabini is a bold-faced liar to everyone but his mother. He has mastered the art of spouting false information with expressions varying from a straight face to the most dazzling smile anyone has ever seen. The only one who has ever seen through this is his mother, hence why he doesn’t like to lie to her.

It's pointless to even attempt to.

The second the sentence leaves his mouth, Isabella is striding towards him. Blaise resists the urge to take a step back when she stops right in front of him.

And then she stares. She stares right into his eyes and suddenly Blaise feels compelled to tell the truth.

Before he can even think of something to say in response to her actions she takes another step forward and this time he can’t stop himself from taking a step back.

“I know that you don’t know me yet so I’m going to let that lie slide. But for the record, I do not appreciate being lied to. I will clock any lies you tell me whether it is in the moment or after digging, but I will find out. So I strongly suggest, for the sake of your health and sanity, that going forward you are just honest to me. Either tell me the truth, or that you aren’t comfortable to talk about it or whatever logic you have behind not wanting to tell me something but do not lie. Because from now on I will not accept you looking me in my face and lying to me.”

She takes a moment to breathe “ Okay?”

“Definitely, I’m sor-”

“Don’t apologize, just don’t do it again.”

And with that threat (?) she turns around, makes a left and is gone.

…Blaise has even more questions than he did before.

Starting with, what the hell does she mean “yet”?

Author's notes: thanks for reading

#blaise zabini #draco malfoy #harry potter #slytherin #slytherin boys #pansy parkinson #theodore nott #blaise x oc

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gryficowa · 6 months

Text

Something pisses me off that people in the fandom reduce all the criticism of the episode with Marinette's trauma to the fact that people in the fandom are stupid or love Chloe too much and hate Marinette

No, people don't like this episode because it has no respect for the viewer and it has many problems that are revealed later in the same season, on top of that, I question whether Adrien's trauma was addressed at all in a respectful way, or whether they justified everything by that he is a senti monster? Exactly

By the way, defenders of this episode, I hope you were going after Felix like you were going after Chloe? Oh no, wait, he was a victim of domestic violence and he was rich, so like Chloe, but he was a boy, so his trauma is more important

But coming back, this episode with Marinette's trauma is problematic on many levels, mainly because it fucks with the logic even more than in the first season when in the episode "Origins" when they rescued Chloe, and then in "Lady Wi-Fi", the chat noir suspects that Chloe it's a ladybug and don't ask about logic, because there is none

Not only does Kim and Chloe make so much sense that Chat Noir from the episode "Lady Wi-Fi" could give a high five on this topic, but calling it "Feature Sharpening" is an understatement, it's more like Thomas had too much to drink before writing the entire script for the episode, and like a typical kid, he created the episode like one of the "Scooby-Doo" movies, where Scrappy-Doo was an out-of-character character in order to be antagonized (Because the fandom didn't like him, so it's better to kill off the whole character this way)

What's the best way to end the story of a father who abuses his child? Give him a statue, the fandom will 100% love it

Seriously, Thomas, we all know you didn't write this episode for traumatized people, but just to go the way people did to kill Scrappy-Doo, which was to kill Chloe herself so that the fandom would hate her and Kim in the process suffered, because why not?

And by the way, to explain your imaginary daughter with your ex…

The standards of this series also contributed to the reception of this episode, and I would also like to remind you that Zag wanted redemption for Chloe, but Thomas himself did not want it, so when Zag left to create the film, Thomas went to destroy the whole Chloe, because like a child he cannot reconcile with this, that a fictional character can have any development and tried his hardest to kill Chloe like a Scappy-Doo movie, seriously Thomas, I understand a lot, but as a creator you should use it to your advantage and not kill her off because you hate your character so much (Like a child what creates illustrations of cartoon characters dying because he hates them)

Seriously, this show has 00's to 2010 vibes, but today? Such productions are more annoying than entertaining (And I say this as a 01-year-old)

This writing by Chloe and Kim seriously has Scrappy-Doo movie vibes to me

So the episode with Marinette's trauma is even more irritating, because anyone sensitive will notice what Thomas did here and it is a seriously conscious murder of his characters.

The context of this episode makes you feel offended rather than understood by the creator, because it's not about empathy towards people with trauma like Marinette, but about killing off the characters of Chloe and Kim

No matter how much I love the trope of the main character who, over time, turns out to have a trauma that the viewer doesn't know about, this show fucked it up and resulted in a not-so-good taste

It's just the context of this episode that causes it, I'm seriously sensitive to this way of writing and it has irritated me since I was a child, I was hoping that the newer the cartoons, the more it would disappear, but then Thomas appeared and did my hated trope, but turned it up to the max

Sometimes I wonder why many great creators get as few seasons as possible, while Thomas gets more

Because no matter how much I liked this show, after Chloe's arc fell apart and the writing fell apart because killing Chloe is more important than everything else in this show, it made me fed up

And because of creators like Thomas, many people consider animations as worthless and only entertainment for small children, because Thomas' writing style is effortless (And even productions for preschoolers can handle it, yes, I'm talking about "Bluey"), just as little as possible, and the fact that the fandom swallows everything has a simple task in this topic

Thomas had a good idea, but Miracolous's greatest enemy was Thomas himself

Damn, it's hard for me to come back to the series, but "Ladybug PV" is awesome, so Thomas himself has gone backwards in the development of his work, literally.

Ok, Felix was still problematic (It was chat noir back then, for those who don't know the history of the miracolous creation process)

But if Thomas could develop the character… Oh no, wait, he can't, that's why Felix became Adrien

By the way, Mr. Pigeon and the mime from the first season appeared in this version, just an interesting fact

I also have the impression that the characters had a better design than in the current series

There was another 3D version, which also looked amazing, so the version we got is the worst and this thought kills me, because this series could have been something more, but Thomas himself killed it, i.e. the creator killed his creation before showing it in its entirety to the world (Congratulations, Thomas)

Yes, I had to let go of all my frustration with the show and the fandom, because it's fucked up that when you criticize the bad writing of Marinette's trauma, people come up with their theories on why you do it, not why you do it and why you don't like it

#cartoon #cartoonist #ml critical #ml fandom salt #ml ladybug #ml salt #ml writers salt #ml writing salt #miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #chloe bourgeois #thomas why?#thomas astruc #thomas astruc salt #miraculous ladybug salt #ml writing critical #anti thomas astruc

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dirtytransmasc · 9 months

Note

hey there, cool blog <3 I love reading your takes on things

so I wanted to ask your take on larycent and what you think we’ll see in season 2

(wrote this whole thing out and then my computer died before I could post it. my first attempt at this was much better. this is cruel and unusual punishment, this whole thing is now infused with anger. not towards you, just in general.)

I should first start off by saying, thank you, I'm so happy you like reading my stuff, second off, I'll say I may be one of the worst people to ask, cause Larys is one of those characters I hate so much, plot be damned, he could choke on one of his stupid flowers within the first 5 minutes of season 2 and I couldn't give less of a shit. I'm not typically like that with characters, I tend to try and give a character enough grace to care about their place in plot, but Larys just makes me that angry. despite this, I will try to be appropriately opinionated and give you a proper answer lol.

from a story point of view their dynamic is fascinating. here's this guy with such little standing (compared to her as queen) who wields so much power against her. it starts out when she is young and alone, he spots this weakness and befriends her, giving her information, gives her company she so longs for, slowly spinning this web around her. then as she gets older, he becomes a sort of confidant, biding his time, until he finds the right moment to strike. he bends her words, given in great trust and secrecy, most likely not the first dangerous secret they've shared, and uses it to 'justify' (he didn't need her command to do it, he just waited to do it in a way that he could hold her accountable for it) killing his father and brother. this gives him power, he can use this against her, to keep her close. he's piled up blackmail at this point, he's got her bound in his web of secrets, she can't leave.

she knows he's dangerous now, she has to keep him close, or he could hurt her, her kids, her image, the people around her.

the other thing is, he gets off on it all. he gets off on bringing her to his level, by stripping her of her agency as queen so that way they are equals.

then by some means, he gets her to give herself up in a sexual manner. he had already been doing this, in a way; I vaguely remember some sort of statement or interview from Matthew Needham about how Larys gets off on bringing her down, on filling her with shame and guilt, on making her feel dirty. so getting her to truthfully give herself up to him for whether it be to keep him satisfied (I'll come back to this point in a second) or for information, gives him the ultimate gratification.

he was like a parasite, taking and taking and taking from her until he was satisfied. she couldn't get rid of him, as he posed a threat to her and others, she couldn't ignore him because then he would act out and be a threat. he had to be kept satisfied. she had to give him a purpose, a use, an outlet to feel like he had power. like a dog, if he was left to himself, he would grow bored and unruly, she had to offer herself to keep him entertained.

both Olivia and Matthew played this dynamic out so well. Matthew played Larys so slimey and gross and just irksome, I was uncomfortable whenever he was on screen. Olivia played Alicent's discomfort and forced compliance so well, I just felt insanely bad the whole time.

it really built Larys up as this thinly veiled evil, he could be... well behaved and friendly, he could be useful, he could be an ally of sorts, all for a price, and if that price went unpaid or he felt undervalued, he could quickly become something so downright awful. he could be something downright evil if he wanted to really, that he was willing to bend words and step on toes (ironically) to get what he wanted and show off his power.

it also built up Alicent, adding onto her list of horrors in life, and putting her in this power limbo. she was queen, yet she was felled by this nobleman, brought down to his level if not lower. while some (*ahem* team black stans *cough cough*) saught to demonize her for her suffering, it really led me to sympathize with her more than before. she had suffered this mans sick and twisted game since she was a child, and he shows no signs of stopping. she's always stepping around fear, knowing the monster she let into her chambers, unable to get him out.

so, outside of the fact that I hate to see my girl suffering so horrible, I can't say I love their dynamic, but I don't hate it... its like, so horrible but so interesting, and I hate it not because it's poorly done or unnecessary, it just makes me feel gross and horrible. 10/10 characterization, 10/10 portrayal, 10/10 plot building -100/10 making me feel nice lmao.

onto predictions: I think she's going to attempt to stand up to him and fail. at the end of season 1 we see her lose Viserys (abuser number 1) and stand up to Otto (abuser number 2) finally putting him in his place after years of biting her tongue to him, acting against him (ordering Aegon be brought to her, that the crowning of aegon/treatment of Rhaenyra be under her command, etc,). I think she'll attempt to continue this pattern and stand up to Larys, who has been nothing but an aching wound in her side.

its only then that he will truly show how evil he can be. he will show his anger, his wrath, the power he holds over her head. he has years of blackmail against her, he will make this evident. it wouldn't surprise me if we get a scene paralleling Daemon and Rhaenyra and the choking scene, if even if only slightly. he will do something to make her keep him at her side. I think he will be the first to bring true horror to our girl. we have seen fear, strife, anxiety, worry, and disbelief, but we have not seen horror. truthfully, I think he's the only one I believe capable of doing that to her.

he is happy to remain sat loyally at her feet (again, the irony) so long as she respects him and lets him use her to get off when he pleases, so after his little show of power, when he instills fear into her once more, he will lie back down like a good little parasitic inside man, while she waits in fear, forever caught in his web. it brings this new air of sick and twisted to it all; his true self has been revealed, he can no longer be looked at with any level of incapacity or harmlessness (not that he really could before, but I don't really know how to describe what I'm thinking of in any other way), yet he reverts back to his normal self. he may be more assertive of his power over her, his word may have a sharper edge to them, but he will still play his role as her obedient servant, while she suffers the stresses of it all.

its this forced 'trust' Alicent is forced to reenter that will keep him at her side up until the end of it (I believe they separate when he is to smuggle Maelor out of the city, but I'm not sure if/when Maelor will be brought into the city, so we'll see how that goes) and I think that dynamic will be equally awful as it is interesting to watch play out.

#important note: I have only skimmed the book so all I really know about Larys is from the show #he's just such a vile monstrous person to me #I can barely get myself to like him form a character/plot aspect #I just hate him and want him dead #the dynamic he has with my girl destroys me #but I will concede that they are portrayed on a godly level #its so well done #props to #matthew needham #and #olivia cooke #but yeah #I think she's gonna try and stand up to him and he is not going to take it well at all #he's gonna sink his teeth deeper into her and she's not gonna be able to really do anything about it #and then he's gonna be this source of terror for her as she tries to navigate the war #knowing very intimately on multiple levels what he's capable and just having to accept that as her new reality #just like she had when he killed his father/brother #evil evil man doing evil evil things #he's gonna be scary #larys strong #alicent hightower #pro alicent hightower #pro team green #anti larys strong #house of the dragon #hotd #trying to give Larys my due diligence for analysis and discourse purposes is going to be the death of me #but I tried my best for you <3

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waynes-multiverse · 1 year

Text

On The Beach

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: A few moons ago, on a hunt like any other, Dean unexpectedly met a girl who not only spun his head around in the blink of a literal eye but also made the brave hunter face some of his biggest fears to date.

Warnings: light language (very tame for me), a bit of emotional angst & grumpy Dean, fluff ❄️

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: Another day, another fic to a Swift song 🙃 The first draft had a very dark, unhappy ending, but I couldn’t bring myself to hurt those two precious babes, so enjoy some pure fluff, my loves! 💚🌌 Inspired by: Snow On The Beach by Taylor Swift ft. Lana Del Rey

Dean Winchester Masterlist || Main Masterlist

It’s a night like any other as Y/N closes down her flower shop in the small coastal town. She stores away a few leftover arrangements, counts the cash in the register, organizes the ribbons by color and width, and waters and prunes all the remaining plants in the greenhouse.

The winter weather ravages outside, bringing freezing December winds with the usual salty sea breeze as she smells the arriving snow in the air, the first one this season, and wraps her coat a little tighter around her body, snuggling her cheeks into her cozy wool scarf. It’s already black as night, the crescent moon standing high above the ocean, when she locks the shop behind her and starts her usual walk home, her house only four blocks up the road.

The street lamps pale in comparison to the cheerily decorated yards and roofs of her neighbors before the headlights of a classic black car blind her periphery as it passes by her, soon disappearing with a rumble around the corner again.

“Brrr, it’s freezing cold, man,” Dean grumbles into his jacket and removes his palms from the steering wheel for a second. He cups them around his mouth to warm them with his hot breath before turning the heat up in the Impala even more.

“I’m fine,” Sam nonchalantly shrugs next to him in a fucking t-shirt. He removed the flannel an hour ago and discarded it on the backseat.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re not human. Freak,” Dean scoffs under his breath and shakes his head, making the younger Winchester chuckle. “Why did you drag me all the way to Rhode Island in the middle of December, man? We could be at home in the bunker, slurping egg nog and watching Die Hard instead of freezing our asses off. Stupid haunted lighthouse…”

“Dude! Can you stop complaining for five seconds, maybe? You’ve been grumpy since we passed Philly. What’s up with you?” Sam throws him a concerned puppy dog look, which only annoys Dean more.

“Nothing, I’m fine. I just hate the beach and the cold and lighthouses–,” Dean mutters, his fingers turning blue around the steering wheel.

Sam’s head snaps to him with a creased brow, “Lighthouses?”

“–and the ocean…”

“Yeah, uh, that usually comes with the beach and the lighthouses, Dean,” the younger Winchester laughs, amused.

“Yeah, whatever, man,” Dean lets out a deep sigh, his brow woven into a permanent scowl at this point. “What’s the address of the girl that witnessed the last death again?”

“Uh, Y/N Y/L/N. Lives at 302 Maplewood Street,” Sam reads from the neatly organized files in his lap. “Just take a left at the next corner.”

“Great,” Dean mumbles dreadfully and makes a left turn onto the target street.

No matter how hard he rummages through the depths of his soul, the hunter can’t quite pin down his recent moodiness. It’s a feeling of dread, sadness, and anger that just bubbles up in his chest at random times and overtakes his whole body and mind before it disintegrates into thin air again like the ghosts he hunts. And maybe after all this time and all the wars and all the pain, it should be no surprise that he feels a little haunted, too.

Well, let’s be honest. He’s fucking cursed.

The melancholy comes and goes like the ocean waves. It almost seems natural. The ebb and flow of a restless life on the road, the possibility of dying every goddamn day, or worse, the fear of ending up completely alone. I Am Legend is his goddamn nightmare.

A hunter’s life is emotionally abusive, so no wonder he constantly feels down on his luck. Especially on holidays like Christmas, when it’s supposed to be all about joy, love, and family. Not even the jolly twinkling lights of the merrily decorated houses around him can cheer up his gloom as he taps his calloused and beaten knuckles on yet another front door to ruin someone’s life. What is his job even?

Hi, Dean Winchester – professional life-ruiner, cold-blooded killer, and ghostbuster extraordinaire. Pleased to meet you. May I interest you in something horrifying that most likely will cost your life or at least give you intense nightmares you never wished you had?

As the red door of the small stone house, adorned with a beautiful pine wreath, opens, however, a stunning young woman greets him with a blinding smile. Dean’s breath hitches as he stops in his tracks, heart, sense, and time halting with him.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, which for sure as hell is too long, his lips unfreeze and curl into a genuine smile, warmth filling and replacing the empty coldness in his ribcage that has dwelled there for a lifetime.

Y/N watches her boot prints in the sand fade away with the next wave, a pocketful of stars twinkling above her head. She closes her eyes and makes a wish upon the next shooting star, her heart filling with a longing that wraps around her soul like the emerald northern lights she used to see on fishing trips with her father. Green is the color of hope, and green is all she sees, even on dark nights with her eyes closed.

The phone in her coat pocket vibrates and disturbs her trance. Her eyelids flutter open with a smile and a heartbeat full of faith. Sometimes wishes do come true.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean chimes through the speaker as soon as she presses the phone to her cold ear under the beanie, the warm, familiar timbre of his deep voice melting her heart like the wax of a burning candle.

“Hey, I miss you. How’s the hunt? Are you and Sam okay?“

Whenever he calls, it’s always the same first question – “Are you alright?”. Because whenever he leaves, she’s always worried, can’t sleep and eat until she knows the answer. So, she takes midnight walks up and down the beach until the phone rings again and soothes the ache in her chest. The impossibility of wanting him right next to her each and every day until her dying breath rips her apart at the seams sometimes, her heart needing more stitches than it should.

Right around a year ago, the Winchester brothers stood on her doorstep like the Christmas present she didn’t ask for. They changed her life in a blink of an eye, made it more magical and simultaneously more horrifying, too. She helped them with a ghost case in town, an old local myth surrounding the rundown lighthouse. Dean heroically saved her life. Then, she moronically saved his and Sam’s. The older hunter yelled at her until he didn’t. Until she kissed him. Until she clasped his freezing palm and led him to the beach. Until she held him till his breathing calmed with the ocean, and they talked till the morning sun came with the first fall of snow.

She hasn’t been the same ever since that night. Neither has he.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” he assures her with a warm chuckle, causing her heart to leap across states in search of him. “Hunt is over. Sam’s finishing up. What are you up to? Are you out for a walk?”

“Yeah, I’m down at the beach like usual,” she sighs, drawing a pouting line in the sand with the tip of her shoe.

“Figured. It’s a nice night out,” he says, and hearing the casual smile in his voice, she has a hard time keeping the scowl on her face alive as she imagines his cute freckle-dusted dimples.

“Would be nicer if you were here,” she notes hopelessly hopeful before her gaze lifts to the moon over the horizon, her brow furrowing. “Wait… How do you know that? Did you check the weather?”

“Sure did,” it sounds behind her as clear as the star-filled sky above her. Her heart drops, jolts, rejoices at the sight of the hunter that so shamelessly stole it as he stands before her – tall, strong, and gorgeous smile included, like a scene from a romantic movie.

“Oh my God, Dean!”

The beam that lights up her face when she recognizes him reminds the hunter of the picture that hangs on her living room wall – the one that shows her winning smile at her eighth-grade baking contest. A blazing warmth spreads through his chest, his chapped lips not able to deny her a smile, albeit his torn heart and broken mind still don’t fully understand how a gorgeous girl like her could even miss him at all.

The phone in her hand then drops into the wet sand as she falls into his embrace, almost taking both of them down before Dean’s strong arms catch her and steady their feet on the forgiving ground. As soon as she lifts her face from his chest, her sparkling eyes bore into his as her arms unravel from his neck, hands traveling to his scruffy cheeks. Needily, she clasps them and feels their blushed warmth, fingernails denting his skin as she drags his lips to hers in a breathtaking kiss, tongues mingling between teeth.

“Air,” Dean chokes out with a chuckling cough as he pulls back from her, his hot breath still ghosting over her swollen lips as his palms grip her waist tightly and keep her locked in his arms. “I’ve missed you, too, sweetheart,” he assures her with a gentle peck on her forehead and lifts his hand to her face, caressing the soft flush in her cheek as a warm smile curves on his lips. “It’s been too long.”

“Forty-two days,” she reminds him, and Dean loves and hates it all at once that she misses him so goddamn much she always counts the days since she’s last seen him. And while Y/N surely misses him to the moon and back, Dean can guarantee that he misses her infinitely more. “How did you get here so fast? This morning you said you were still in New Mexico.”

“Yeah, well, couldn’t wait a whole day’s drive to see you, so I flew here,” he shrugs coolly but can’t help the grin rising on his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, you what? You took an actual plane? But you hate flying,” she points out with an adorably knitted brow. Dean never technically admitted he was afraid of flying, always told her he didn’t particularly care for it, not wanting to seem like a wuss. “Sam even once said it scares the bejeezus out of you.”

That little…

“Yup, flight was awful, thanks for asking,” Dean quips with an insecurity-overshadowing, too-cool-for-his-own-good grin while he mentally notes down to hit his younger brother over the head later. And as his pine-green eyes soak up her sunshine with a greedy need for happiness, his heart relishes in her love.

Until it doesn’t. Until it feels too goddamn selfish.

The last time he saw Y/N, she told him that she loved him. Loved him. Him. Even after forty-two days, it still hasn’t sunk in. How could it? It sounds insane. More insane than monsters and God’s plan. More insane than his entire life story itself.

Naturally, the hunter couldn’t say anything back. It felt surreal, like a dream he wasn’t supposed to have. It didn’t feel like it was his to take. She didn’t feel like she was his. The shock took his whole body hostage, afraid admitting it would curse her love for him and twist it somehow. Not that she even wanted or expected an answer from him. She already knew everything there was to know – about him, about his life. So, she simply said she wanted him to know that there was someone out there in this big, wide world that loved him and thought of him every day. That’s it.

What’s he supposed to do with that, huh?

But when the hunter left her for the millionth time this year, the real torture began. He could deal with physical pain easily, even thrived in it. He could be torn apart and ripped to shreds a billion times, and he still wouldn’t care. Emotional torture, however, was a different story. He couldn’t take the overthinking, the sleepless nights, the helplessness, the anxiety in his heart, or the choked air in his lungs whenever he thought about her, which was always. She was a constant in his soul, a complex math equation that allowed no variables. She never went anywhere.

She was there when he snuck with Sam through the halls of yet another abandoned warehouse on the hunt for a few vamps. She was there when he thought about doing something stupid and reckless to play the hero instead of doing the smart and right thing. She was there when he washed off the blood in the motel room shower, thinking how he didn’t want to break her heart by not answering her next phone call. She was there when he couldn’t close his eyes at night and stared at the ceiling, imagining how his little brother would have to break the news of his death to her.

And eventually, after forty-two days of torture, of heartache, of longing, the hunter broke. He couldn’t do it anymore.

It gnawed on his heart that he never said it back. Because she deserves to hear it. Because living and breathing without her seem useless. Because having hopes and dreams is worthless if she’s not in any of them. Because she’s the best fucking thing that ever happened to him. Because what the hell is he even fighting for if it’s not all for her. Because all the pros outweigh the biggest con. Because it’s goddamn true.

Dean loves her, too.

As he holds tightly onto her, he breathes into the feeling of having her in his arms, of her head buried deep in his chest, of her arms securely wrapped around his torso. He feels the love for him radiating from her body, feels the safety she offers him, and feels their hearts melting into one through layers of fabric, skin, flesh, and bones. Embracing her is the most magical and otherworldly experience. It’s mind-blowing that he now has someone that he can touch, someone he can drive towards, someone he can see with his own eyes while he’s goddamn awake.

Perhaps, love is not supposed to feel real. It’s intangible, indescribable, and inexplicable, and if you applied all the criteria of reality, love shouldn’t exist at all. But as the first snowflake grazes his cheek, he opens his eyes and watches more white stars falling from the sky and covering the sandy beach under a soft blanket. And suddenly, love comes down all around him like the snow itself.

It’s not some weird, beautiful, unobtainable, and unmaintainable dream. It’s here. It’s now. And it’s her.

“I love you.”

His confession comes out in a blurb that almost could be mistaken for a glitch in his impenetrable matrix. On top of that, he also mumbled it into her hair, but who cares? It has left his heart and definitely reached her ears as Y/N lifts her head from his warm chest, gaze wandering up till it meets his own. He swallows, nerves getting the best of him, which wasn’t a lot, to begin with. And then, her pink lips curve into an amused smile.

“I know.”

He stumps, his eyebrows quirking together so much it almost provokes a headache, which causes her to giggle. “How?”

She locks her arms around his neck and grins, “Guess your actions speak louder than your words, Winchester. Besides, you took a plane for me, even though you almost pooped your pants.”

“I did not almost p–”

His protest is left unfinished, stopped by her lips crashing against his, and he can’t help but toss every clever comeback out the window and kiss her back. There’s another giggle when he hesitantly draws back from her mouth, his thumb caressing the glow in her dimple as he places another peck on her hairline.

“Sweetheart, you know what happens when you kiss me like that.” Well, maybe he still had one clever comeback in reserve.

“Uh-huh,” she laughs cheekily and tip-toes up enough for another kiss on his lips. “I love you, too.”

Dean playfully rolls his eyes and pecks the tip of her cold nose. As if being cute is going to save her tonight. “So what you’re saying is, I worried and went nuts for nothin’ over the last few weeks?”

Y/N shrugs her shoulders, and he would’ve almost bought into her innocence if it weren’t for that little mischievous smile on her lips. “I told you back then you didn’t have to say it.”

He nods and purses his lips. “Yeah, well, some things shouldn’t be left unsaid, y’know?”

And when she gives him another heartwarming smile, it sends him to another planet. His fluster returns because what else is there left to say? He hasn’t exactly planned past this moment, hasn’t even dreamed he’d get this far.

“So, uhm, what’s next? I figured we could go to that maple farm in Vermont you’re always telling me about. Or, uhm, maybe drive north till we see the-, uh, the aurora bor-, uh, thingy.”

“Borealis,” she helps him along, biting her lips very hard to suppress the grin.

“Yup, that. We could see that,” he suggests with the eagerness and excitement of a little boy who found a Lego set under the tree.

“Slow down, tiger,” she chuckles, her fingers playing with the lapels of his jacket. “First, tell me how long I get you for this time before you plan all our time in bed away.”

“Well, uh…” He clears the lump in his throat, and she must’ve noticed his nervousness, because not even a second later, she interlaces her fingers with his and gives him the reassurance he needs to continue. “For-, uhm, forever.”

“What?” His reply has even taken Little-Miss-Know-It-All by surprise as she shakes her confused head for clarity and blinks at him.

“Yeah, uhm, we can talk about the details later, but… I’m all yours now,” Dean smiles and is relieved when she mirrors it before his hand reaches back to scratch his neck. “I mean, for as long as you’ll have me and let me stay with you at least.”

“Well, guess it’s forever then,” Y/N replies, tongue-in-cheek. “How about some hot cocoa and cheesy Christmas movies first before we make vacation plans over a super greasy breakfast tomorrow, huh?”

“A woman after my own heart,” the hunter beams and preciously kisses her temple. He interlaces his fingers with hers before leading them home through the glistening white sand, the snow falling down around them.

To think I almost killed her... 🤣 --> ALTERNATE ENDING

Everything Jensen Tag: @extraterrestriali @this-is-me19 @writercole @awkward-and-indecisive @eevvvaa @imherefordeanandbones @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @jassackles @maggiegirl17 @perpetualabsurdity @deandreamernp @roseblue373 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @deanwithscissors @flamencodiva @chriszgirl92 @lhymer1995 @wittyboldsoul @djs8891 @snowlovespie @b3autyfuldisast3r @recoveringpastaaddict @ladysparkles78 @muhahaha303 @mimaria420

Dean Tag: @parinarain @hobby27

#dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester angst #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #dean winchester reader insert

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brittle-doughie · 1 year

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Ayy, it's 🥀 anon here with some angst: y/n cookie, time and time again, seems to wander off into the woods and leave flowers, trinkets, and food near a seemingly plainrock every year during the specifically cold seasons, sometimes singing sad, bittersweet love songs to it. When asked by other cookies, they say very little and seemingly become sadder. When later -stalked- followed by concerned cookies, they learn about the rock: it's the unmarked grave of y/n cookies late spouse and that same day was their anniversary

(P.s. thanks so much for adding me into the anon cult, I hope your doing great and taking breaks: you deserve it♡)

The Flipside

Letting go can be hard…

It always seemed that it was this time of year that made the usually bright Y/N Cookie to have their mood dampened. For one day in particular would they go missing for the entirety of that day, it left your fellow cookies wondering where you were during that time missing. Some folks tried taking you out to cheer you up during these colder months, doing your favorite activities, just letting you do whatever you want together.

But…nothing works in the end.

Your mood would go back to being more mellow and dull. You’d excuse yourself especially when it came to cookies taking you out to perceived dates, leaving them confused and worried. Well this time, they would follow you the day before the one where you usually vanished, they wanted to know what’s gotten you into a dour mood.

You were carrying a bouquet of flowers and some other items as you made your way deeper into the woods. At first, your hidden audience thought you were seeing someone in secret, but they kept all thoughts as guesses until they actually see it. They see you go further and further…

Until you stopped at a headstone within the snow, you placed down the flowers and items as you now start to whistle a tune from long ago, to you at least. You swayed your body from side to side as you did so as the snow fell around you.

Y/N Cookie: “I’m here now, my special cookie…today marks another year without you…it hurts not sharing it with you, you’ve shown me how to really be myself and now look where it got me. Surrounded by many cookies who consider me their bestest friend! I know you would’ve wanted me to move on..but if you’re here right now, listening to me…know that I’ll forever cherish you and the time we’ve spent together. My dearest….”

You knelt down in front of the now known grave of your lost loved one as you silently cried to yourself…meanwhile in the bushes far from you…

Mint Choco Cookie tried everything he can to comfort a sobbing Cocoa Cookie, who just wanted to come out from the bushes to give you hugs and kisses. She hated seeing you there all alone and crying to yourself, with no one there to comfort you. She would quietly plead to Mint Choco to let her go to you, but despite him also wanting to go comfort you too, he knew that this was a moment you needed to yourself and told Cocoa this, who ultimately agreed with him, but it still pained her heart to see you like this. She and Mint are so coming over tomorrow to spend the day with you..

How did Croissant Cookie not know about this!? She was your bestest pal! Pals know a whole lot about each other! If she had known your disappearances were for a cookie you loved long ago, she would’ve backed off to allow you to grieve. She felt stupid for not coming to this conclusion sooner, she wanted to make it up to you later for misunderstanding your disappearances. She was going to help you feel better. Together.

Kumiho Cookie now felt absolutely terrible. That confession long ago was your attempt at a second chance at love and she treated it so carelessly, it actually made her heart ache. She wished she took it seriously rather then it just being her charm again, if this was how much you held a past relationship so dearly to you. It made her more determined to capture your heart again and she’s not giving it up this time..

Lilac Cookie…he should’ve known. He knew better. He should’ve just let your business be your own, but he was immensely curious as to what you were up to in these woods and now felt great shame in knowing that it was to mourn a former flame. Seeing your sadden form, it ached his heart. He takes your feelings much more seriously after this and cookies who try to toy with them will be dealt with…

She can’t imagine the pain you feel when you visit something of your past that you cared so deeply for. She’s fortunate that DE is still around to keep her going, but seeing you in pain at this moment or anything involving your plight never fails to lighten her expression from the usual scowl she gives others minus Poison Mushroom. This only encourages Pomegranate Cookie’s efforts to have you join the CoD, they will care for and love you so much if you give them the chance and take their hands.

Caramel Arrow Cookie grew worried of your sudden disappearances during this day in particular and decided it was time to follow after you to make sure you were safe from any dangers that came for you. Unlike Pomegranate, she knows how it feels to lose cookies close to you, the Altar can attest to that. She wanted to gently approach from the wilderness to comfort you in your time of need, but this was your former partner you’re mourning for, a cookie that was close to you specifically, it was for the best that she just kept watching from a distance. She’s a lot more gentle with her mannerisms with you during the winter seasons from then on.

The cookie(s) keeping tabs on you had to hide as you finished grieving and started to make your way back home. A long look towards the grave.

With this revelation known, during the winter seasons, competition becomes more tame and passive to allow you more space to remember the time you’ve spent together with your former love. When the time was right, maybe you could get back into the game, and the cookies hope they’ll become your choice.

#brittle answers #cookie run x reader #cookie run x you #cr x reader #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run angst #cocoa cookie #mint choco cookie #pomegranate cookie #caramel arrow cookie #lilac cookie #kumiho cookie #croissant cookie

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