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dat-town · 4 months

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you are the knife i turn inside myself (that is love)

Characters: Seunghun & OC (Jieun)

Setting & genre: angst, hurt/comfort, set in the world of Save Me Kill Me MV

Summary: Jieun had always been an enigma. Yet, Seunghun can’t stop loving her.

Warnings: mentions of suicide (Yonghee’s), past attempted suicide (MC), bullying, parents’ divorce and neglectful behaviour (MC’s), deceased parents (Seunghun’s), academic pressure, depression (MC’s), therapy ‒ if any of these topics are triggering for you, please don’t interact with the fic. if you would like to know what to expect under any warning beforehand, feel free to send me an ask

International suicide hotline: https://blog.opencounseling.com/suicide-hotlines/

Words: 6k

Author’s note: it’s a spin-off to in your eyes i see another me, for my convenience I named the previous reader, as Jinah. I don’t think it’s a must to read it but it gives more context. Heavily inspired by the CIX story films and Save Me Kill Me MV, so the boys’ characters resemble that more than their idol personality. This story is heavily Seunghun-centric.

Title taken from Kafka, read the meaning here.

For @restlessmaknae, thank you for always being such a supporter, for introducing me to new music (and groups) and for fangirling with me over fictional characters or real people in general. I hope next year you find a place where they appreciate you the way you deserve it and that it will be a better one health-wise. I wish you more (kpop) concerts, travel experiences and happiness! love you <3

Seunghun couldn't tell when exactly he fell in love with Jieun. Was it love at first sight? The way her fringe had fallen into her dark eyes, the fierce fire in them, the way she had looked at him like everything was a challenge ever since the first day of high school? Or was it much later when she had held his trembling hand during his mother's funeral?

Seunghun wasn't sure but he knew one thing: he didn't remember how it was to not be in love with her. That's why it hurt when he started to notice her building up walls, acting weird and hanging out with Byounggon more. The boy told himself he wasn't jealous, he had nothing against the other guy after all, but lying could only take him that far.

Then his whole world turned upside down when it turned out that Jieun had a twin who pretended to be her while she was in a hospital. In a coma. Because of attempted suicide.

It was like an ice cold shower because Seunghun would rather have Jieun be with somebody else than dead. Or in pain. But Jieun was like a rose with sharp thorns, so to love her was like handing her a knife, ready to be hurt.

The smell of the hospital was the same. Seunghun remembered it all too well. It didn't matter that it wasn't the same building or that months had passed. He had spent too much time beside Yonghee's bed, praying that he wouldn't leave like his mom, to forget. And now here he was, right by the unconscious Jieun's side doing the same.

She looked so vulnerable in the hospital bed, all pale and put on machines that kept her alive. So unlike how she really was: wild and lively like ember among ash. Whenever Seunghun came to visit, his heart sank at the sight and he couldn't help checking the heart monitor just to make sure. Hoping that one of these days it would be different, that she would open her eyes and everything would be okay. What a wishful thinking but it's not like he had anything better to do.

"Your sister comes back from the UK tomorrow. You should see Byounggon, he's like an excited puppy," he recited, sitting on the uncomfortable metal chair next to Jieun's bed. He didn't believe she heard him but the nurses told him it could help, so he did his best. It made it feel less weird too, just being there, silent, watching her sleep. Like this, he could pretend they were gossiping, like she could chuckle anytime soon and call him out on his bullshit when he exaggerated. Not this time though; ever since Jinah notified them that she had finished all her final exams and was heading back to Seoul for the summer, Byounggon was restless. "How long do you think it will take them to get together officially? We all saw how they looked at each other and long distance can't be an excuse now."

Honestly, given Jieun's and Byounggon's arguing history, Seunghun didn't think the girl would have been thrilled to know that her twin got so close with the guy, but he would have rather taken her frustration than her silence at this point. He would have given anything for her to wake up. Maybe he was selfish but he wasn't ready to lose her too. Too many good people had left them last year.

"I miss you," he whispered, toying with a loose thread of her thin duvet. The realization wasn't sudden but his confession was. It tasted bittersweet on his tongue or like sour candy.

Seunghun gulped while watching Jieun's porcelain face, her dark lashes and listened to the rhythmical beeps of the machine beside her. Nothing even stirred. Gently, he reached out to take her hand in his, so cold against his sweaty palms, so still and unlike her. Jieun wasn't fond of public displays of affection after all. He sometimes got away with a brief hug or nudge on the shoulder, but Jieun was often quick to pull away. But she was like that with everybody, so Seunghun didn't take it to heart.

He squeezed her hand softly, suddenly nervous at being so daring, but naively he hoped that maybe the cliché things from dramas would turn out to be true for once. But no, even as he stood up to leave and let go of her pale hands, the heart monitor's beeps remained steady.

With Jinah back in town, they had one more person at those Saturday hang outs Hyunsuk liked to call movie nights in honour of the film club they used to be a part of.

Eventually all of them had graduated, even Byounggon and Jinyoung had managed to do so without having to retake the senior year. Seunghun wasn't sure it would have happened without Jinah. Sure, her lying to them and impersonating her sister had been morally wrong but with her around they had all gotten a new perspective: that they all had something to live for and none of the people who had left them would have wanted them to feel otherwise. At first, Seunghun had thought that it had been naive to think so, so unlike Jieun, but then he had gotten to know about her in the hospital and realized that maybe it had been their pessimistic mindset of theirs all along that had pushed the girl to the edge.

Hyunsuk and Byeol had gotten into the same college, sociology majors – she had wanted to study that and he hadn't known what else to do –, and it was cute how they lived their campus romance. Jinyoung had started working in a coffee shop and whenever they visited him, female customers were making heart eyes at him. Byounggon had gotten a job at a convenience store and often took night shifts because he had always been a night owl (and because with the timezone difference, this way he could talk more with Jinah), but with her back in time, it was most likely up to change.

And Seunghun? He had taken on a few children's dance classes to teach and was studying for the civil worker exam. With house bills to pay he couldn't allow himself to dream big. With all of them pressed up against each other on a couch, watching a movie, he was already paying his dream coins thinking of Jieun – that she would make faces but like this anyway –, wishing she was there.

It was almost the end of the visiting hours when Seunghun woke up. He didn't mean to fall asleep over Jieun's hospital bed, arms folded like a pillow but he was up late learning a new choreography. He loved the lack of crushing thoughts when he was dancing, the soreness in his muscles and the beats of music the only thing he was aware of. No what ifs or guilt or anxiousness, just dance. Except when Jieun had been watching him dance before because then his thoughts had been all about her.

The boy startled and pulled back, scooting back in his chair. He yawned as he rubbed his eyes. Then he froze, eyes widening.

Jieun was watching him.

Her eyes were misty and unfocused but she was awake. Seunghun stood up so vehemently that he almost knocked his chair back. Her name was a prayer of gratitude as he called it. The soft sound made the girl focus on him. Breathing through the plastic mask over her face, heartbeat measured by the wires put on her body, white hospital grown over her pale skin, Jieun seemed like a stranger but her eyes, they were still the same: sad but with fire in them.

Seunghun held his breath while a single drop of tear rolled down Jieun's temple, then she closed her eyes again right before the nurses arrived.

Seunghun was sent out while the doctors and nurses ran a million tests on the girl. He called Jinah and wrote in the group chat but he didn't know what else to do. He was pacing, walking up and down the corridor and while this was what he was waiting for, for her to wake up, it was also nerve-wrecking.

"How is she?" Seunghun ran up to the nurse who just came out of the room.

"Better than expected. But I can't tell you the details. Only family members are entitled to know medical details."

It left a sharp feeling in Seunghun's gut after spending in the hospital hours every week, but he wasn't surprised. He needed the family's permission to be able to visit too, so he didn't push it.

"Can I see her?" He asked instead, but the nurse looked at him uncertainly, with pity.

"I'm sorry but… the patient specifically said she doesn't want you to see her like that. Nobody apart from her family actually," she bobbed her head apologetically before hurrying away, leaving the boy behind.

Disheartened, Seunghun sank down onto the row of uncomfortable plastic chairs in the corridor and tried not to feel hurt. He knew how proud Jieun was, how much she hated to show weakness to others. He should have expected it, but it still stung.

He didn't know how much time had passed by the time the doctors and rest of the nurses left or when Jinah and Byounggon arrived. He just sat there, waiting, waiting. He wasn’t sure what for, not anymore.

Jinah told all of them that according to the doctors Jieun would make full recovery. She had to attend rehabilitation because she just spend months not moving and obligatory therapy due to the attempted suicide. She wasn't particularly happy about either of those nor having to repeat her senior year. But at least she didn't look like she was disappointed that she survived or so Jinah said. Not that they talked about it. Jieun wasn’t quite generous with words, not when it came to topics like this.

After a week of various examinations they would let her out of the hospital and she would spend two weeks in the mountains for recovery. Three weeks until Seunghun could see her again. If she was ready then.

"Seunghun, you are a beat behind. Where's your mind at?" His dance teacher's scolding pulled him out of his running thoughts.

Thoughts around and about her. Always her.

"Sorry," he mumbled and tried not to think of Jieun.

But he saw her even when he closed his eyes.

Jieun was alive and awake yet she had never felt farther. Seunghun's messages went unread on her phone and he only knew what was happening to her from Jinah. It felt wrong. Weren't they supposed to be best friends? When had it all gone wrong?

When she had jumped? Or when Yonghee had done?

Or when he had fallen in love?

Seunghun felt like she was slipping through his fingers like sand. It was almost like he was losing her all over again. For real, this time.

People said that it was natural to drift apart with your friends after school, once you didn't see each other every day, but he couldn't let go. He knew it wasn't about him graduating. Jieun was avoiding him. Seunghun told himself that she must have needed time. She was one of the strongest people he knew and she hated when she was seen as weak or vulnerable, she must have resented that he had been with her in the hospital. But how could he have not? At least he had been close to her that way.

The day after Jieun got back from the mountains, Seunghun got a text in the middle of his teens class. It was one simple message:

Can we meet?

His heart thrummed like a traitor when he saw it. He was sweaty and tired, but he wouldn't have missed out on the opportunity.

They agreed to meet at the park they often hung out later that night. Seunghun was more nervous than he would have liked to admit. His hands got clammy again after taking a quick shower and water droplets were still falling from his hair when he jumped on the bus. He was drumming on his knees to the rhythm of his heart, a jumpy little dance.

He didn't know what to expect. After months of not talking to Jieun, he wasn't sure. After her not wanting him to see her, he got even more uncertain. He kept replaying their last conversation. The one Jinah had confirmed wasn't with her. The way Jieun had smiled at him, nudged him playfully and stolen his fries. It had been painfully normal. He had used to beat himself up over not noticing the signs but all of them had been a mess after what had happened with Yonghee and Seunghun had been busy with his mother's funeral too. There had been a new norm after that, nothing had been the same, so nothing had felt out of the ordinary. Nothing had felt like ‘Yonghee all over again’.

Jieun was already there when he got to the park. She sat on a bench with her long hair falling onto her shoulders, moonlight shining on her fair skin beautifully. She wore her signature eyeliner and black nail polish which reminded Seunghun of times before she got to the hospital where she was pale and bare faced, looking young, innocent and so so fragile. Seeing her again like this knocked the air out of the boy.

"Hey," she looked up, straightening her spine a bit once she was aware of his presence. The small movement didn't sit well with Seunghun. They were closer than to act differently around each other… Or so he thought they were.

"Hey," he echoed and took the seat next to her, his hands gripping on the edge of the bench. It felt unreal, being so close to her again, and she was awake, warm and real. "You… you look better."

It was a clumsy compliment but Seunghun knew Jieun would have never let him get away with calling her pretty or something like that. She didn't like that and the boy never knew why but according to Jinah they were always compared based on their academics and looks too. Early signs of Jieun's rebellion came with her going against what their parents would have liked to see her as: the ideal, well-behaving, perfect little angel.

"Better than half-dead in the hospital? Jeez, thanks," the girl snorted and her tone made Seunghun wince. Joking with her almost dying wasn't funny to him. He didn't say anything though, so silence embraced them for an uncomfortable moment.

"I'm sorry," Jieun sighed eventually and she sounded sincere.

Seunghun wasn't sure why she apologized though. For the insensitive joke? For ignoring his messages? For not letting him visit her in the hospital once she was awake? Or for the reason she had been at the hospital in the first place? Nevertheless, Seunghun shook his head, not wanting her to blame herself.

"Don't be."

"I am," she insisted, her eyes intense when their gazes met. "I never wanted to hurt you."

The boy sucked in a breath.

He was at fault too: he cared too much. But he couldn't say it was okay nor he could say he wasn't hurt. He was so damn confused at the same time as he was just happy to have her back. Because she was back, right? She wouldn't disappear like that again?

He wanted to ask. He wanted to beg even though he didn't have the right to tell her what to do. He wanted her to stay, but they didn't talk about it, about the elephant in the room, since everything was still so fragile.

Instead Seunghun looked into her deep dark night of her eyes and smiled.

"I missed you," he said.

Stay with me, he wished.

"I missed you, too," she said with the smallest of genuine smiles in the corner of her mouth.

For then, it was enough.

Admittedly, Seunghun had feared that Jieun wanted to meet because she would have preferred to cut ties with him, that it would have been a goodbye, maybe her moving away or just trying to start a new life. He was terribly relieved when it turned out that she just didn't want to apologize over messages for being distant ever since she woke up. She just needed time and space and she didn't like the idea of him wasting his time beside her hospital bed like he had done with Yonghee, too. He wouldn't have called it a waste of time though, he'd had nothing better to do and he had wanted to be there for them. Since he hadn’t been able to help, this was something he could have at least done. But convincing Jieun something like this was a lost cause and he didn't want to argue. A part of him just wanted things to go back as they were but another part of him, the one that wasn't a coward, wanted to be mature about it and talk it through. But he was afraid Jieun would put her walls up and shut him out then and he didn't want to lose her. He knew how much she disliked that therapy already that she had to attend for a year.

So Seunghun did the next best thing he could think of: making sure Jieun had reasons to live. He started writing a list, a list that he hoped would never end, of things that he knew she wanted to do, achieve or see. Be it a band concert, a trip to Gangnueng or just a choker she bookmarked on her phone. He knew her well and long enough to easily come up with a dozen list items but the hardest part was being smooth enough at delivering these that Jieun wouldn't call him out on it.

Like when they were out late again one night and he thought using that excuse that he was hungry would be enough to suppress her doubts.

"It's just so random," she grumbled when he told her dinner would be on him. It wasn't even anything fancy, just bibimbap that she always loved.

"I wanted to take you out from my first paycheck but you weren't awake then, so here we are," he echoed the practiced explanation. Technically it wasn't even a lie, he had wanted to do that. But now he had one more reason to.

When they crossed an item off his unwritten list, Seunghun added two more points in its place. With time, it turned into a little bucket list about things he wanted to do with her. Hyunsuk teased him that it was almost like he was planning dates for them and Seunghun had to make him promise not to call them dates out loud in front of Jieun. So what if he wanted to try out the new bingsu place with her or watch falling stars together or discover old record stores? He just wanted to be with her.

He knew it was only a matter of time that Jieun noticed the pattern and actually said something about it and then it would end. Seunghun guessed she kind of already knew, she just entertained him by letting him throw in a new idea for every weekend. Sometimes she asked if he shouldn't have studied instead but eventually let him be after listening to his nonsense excuses like how taking a break would fuel his productivity eventually.

Seunghun thought he could act like nothing had happened. Because it seemed like this was what Jieun wanted.

But sometimes he just couldn't.

"Jinah told us that you went to a psychologist," he said quietly after they visited Yonghee and his steps halted when Jieun fell behind.

"She shouldn't have. She had no right," she snapped, sounding both cold and angry at the same time, brushing past him, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

It was exactly what Seunghun wanted to avoid, but the cat was already out of the bag, so he didn’t want it to be an affair to brush off. He caught up with the girl, grabbing her wrist just temporarily to stop her and slip in front of her vision.

"You could have told me," he added, quiet and gentle, and Jieun's anger seemed to fade. She always seemed to soften just a bit when it came to him. Maybe that was also a reason why he fell for her. Because she made him feel special.

"You were struggling already because of your mom on top of what happened with Yonghee," she reasoned and Seunghun wished that she would have been more selfish than that. How could she have thought that her struggles would have been too much on top of everything as if she mattered less to him?

The boy sighed, shaking his head.

"That's not the only reason," he argued because he knew her and she respected him enough not to deny.

"That's not the only reason," she agreed, keeping eye contact. Brave, brave Jieun, why was she so afraid of showing vulnerability as if it was a weakness? Didn't she know that he wouldn't have thought less of her because of something like that?

"Can you tell me now? What happened? I would have never thought that you…" Seunghun wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence and it was probably the worst timing and not the best location either. But at least the streets were vacant and they were the only people under this alcove. The stars would keep their secrets.

"I wanted to know how Yonghee felt," Jieun shrugged, trying to play it off but Seunghun saw the nervousness in her movements, the way she put her weight from one leg to the other. “Was he scared? Was it fast? Did it hurt? Maybe if it was fast and painless, it would be easier to accept it.”

Seunghun imagined her walking over the bridge, watching the river rush by underneath her and thinking of Yonghee. Of the boy with the gentlest soul and all those bruises on his fair skin. He imagined her screaming and reckless, finding comfort in the dark and the waves. The impact of her jump held magnitudes. It could never be fast and painless, not for those who loved them.

“Do you know what was the last thing I told him?” Jieun asked but Seunghun didn’t answer.

How could he have known when she had never told him? What he knew was that she had gotten into an argument with Yonghee not much before he had left them. But that was nothing new, Jieun had got into her fair share of arguments with all of them, especially Byounggon, because she was like an ember, fierce and restless. Yonghee had known this, he had known that her words were sometimes harsher than she intended.

“I called him a coward. I told him he was weak. That if he wasn’t going to stand up for himself, it’s like he’s letting them kill him,” Jieun’s lips trembled and she looked away, her voice getting breathy. “We were his safe space and I made him feel like he was a disappointment. I…”

A sob escaped her. It was so sudden that Seunghun didn’t see it coming. He had never seen Jieun cry. Not at Yonghee’s funeral, not when she had broken her arm trying a skateboarding trick in their freshman year. Yet, it was like an instinct: winding his arms around her, pulling her into his embrace. He half-expected her to push him away, to build up the walls once again just to prove that she was strong and independent. But maybe, finally she knew that from time to time it was okay to be vulnerable, with the right people it wasn’t a bad thing.

“I… What if that was the last straw? What if it was like I pushed him over the edge?” She sobbed into his shirt and he held her tighter as if he could keep her together as she was spiralling down. He had no idea she held so much guilt and grief inside.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he whispered into her hair and murmured other reassuring words while storing her back. Yes, they were all bystanders and maybe they could have offered help, could have pushed more but Yonghee had loved them and he insisted that he was okay. There was no way they could have known what had been going on behind his smiles.

Jieun cried for a long time. Years worth of tears dried up on Seunghun’s white tee as she pulled back and wiped away the rest from her cheeks.

“Shit. I shouldn’t have dumped all that on you,” she sighed, her voice raspy from all that crying and the boy practically saw her build up her walls level by level as she composed her facial expressions and wiped away her smudged makeup. She was mentally running away, so the boy told her the only words he thought that could stop her.

"Jieun... you are the strongest person I know."

The girl blinked at him in disbelief, his reflection clear in her shiny eyes.

"Do you really still think that?" She asked ironically with the certainty of someone ragged and patched up, scars from her fall still fading into her pale skin. But to him, she had never been broken.

"Yeah, I really do," Seunghun nodded, convinced and genuine.

She had never looked stronger.

Seunghun was hovering over his textbooks in the pleasant warmth the coffee shop where Jinyoung worked provided when somebody stopped by his table. His first thought was the barista boy but the mellow female voice that greeted him proved him wrong. Even after months of knowing Jinah, sometimes the striking similarity of the twins still surprised him. Most likely because he had spent years without knowing about the other girl's existence. But now that he knew and the girl stopped pretending to be Jieun, it was also painfully obvious in just how many subtle ways they were different. It wasn't just about the lack of eyeliner – which Byounggon had noticed since day one –, but the way they styled their hair, the way they dressed or the way they talked. There was that warm smile on Jinah's face too that Jieun so rarely showed. Looking back it was impossible to not tell them apart.

"Hi, how's studying?" She asked, sounding sincerely curious as her fingers intertwined over her iced frappé.

"As okay as it can get," the boy shrugged, straightening his back, using her presence as an excuse to focus on something else other than the material. "And what are you doing here?"

"Just getting coffee while I wait for Gon to finish his shift," she explained and glanced at her watch, checking the time, before pointing at the chair across from Seunghun. "Can I join you until then?"

"Sure," the boy nodded, trying not to show any lingering awkwardness that remained from the time when she had been pretending to be Jieun. He wasn't angry at her anymore, he understood her reason no matter how wild it was but he still couldn't forget the confusion he had felt when he had thought he had been starting to lose Jieun to Byounggon only to realize that it hadn’t been her to begin with.

Small talk with Jinah wasn't as awkward as he thought though. He asked her about how she was holding up in the Korean summer weather and told her about his upcoming civil servant exam. Only when they seemed to run out of easy topics like that did she bring up her sister.

"Did Jieun tell you anything about Gon and me?" She asked, fidgeting with her napkin.

Seunghun furrowed his eyebrows. Why would they have talked about them? Was something up? Should he have known something? He thought things were going well.

"Uhm, no. Why?"

Jinah seemed a bit uncertain at the outright question. She was probably embarrassed to bring it up herself.

"She doesn't really like him, huh?" She whispered, tapping her nails against the glass. "And it's not like I need her approval but... she's still my sister, you know."

Well, Seunghun didn't know. He didn't have any siblings and up until last year he had no idea Jieun had. But after getting to know Jinah and their close bond with her twin despite being separated for years, he thought he understood why she felt that way.

"Jieun doesn't hate Byounggon or anything like that. They are just too similar in a way," he told her eventually, thinking of how vocal they both could be about their opinions, how fierce they could fight for their loved ones or how reckless they could be if they thought it was the right thing to do. They had similar enough personalities to clash because neither of them liked to be proven wrong... or seen vulnerable. They were the lone wolves that could lead packs. "Maybe the same reason why she doesn't think she is fit for happiness is why she would prefer if you stayed away from him."

Jieun was good at holding grudges but the one she forgave the hardest was herself. As if she didn't deserve it just because she made some honest-to-god mistakes.

"The same way she stays away from you?" Jinah asked and Seunghun's eyes widened, his ears on fire.

"Did she–"

"She didn't need to say anything, but I can tell that she is guarded whenever it's about you. She cares about you, a lot, but she doesn't want others to know," Jinah interrupted him before he could have asked and yeah, that sounded very much like Jieun. "While I was pretending to be her, I heard girls whispering that she didn't deserve you. That's also probably why she had 'bitch' written over her locker and who knows what else happened to her that made her think it would be a bad idea to… let you closer, I guess."

Seunghun hummed, more to himself than to her, his hands in fists, knuckles white in his lap. Was he a bad friend for not knowing about it? For thinking that something so petty couldn't get to Jieun?

He wasn't sure he had the right to ask more even if Jinah knew more, so he stayed silent and then watched Jinah's face brighten and following her gaze, he saw Byounggon by the door, with the same, small but happy smile on his face. They were so obviously in love that it made Seunghun wonder when it had stopped hurting for them.

Seunghun made a plan. It wasn’t a very thorough or foolproof plan but summer was ending and he really should have stopped being a coward. Life was short and he didn’t want to live with regrets.

He asked Jieun to meet at the playground in the park where they often hang out. This late it was empty and Seunghun was sitting on one of the two metal swings, enjoying the last of the summer breeze in his face. Jieun arrived with soft steps and a not so soft push on his swing. Her laughter that followed his yelp was a chime of bells in the night.

"So what's the occasion?" She asked, straight to the point, taking a seat next to him, not yet sensing his nervousness, so the boy decided it was better to just tip off the bandage.

"I thought we could get away from the city before you go back to school," he said once he was sitting up straight again. He reached into his backpack and handed her a return train ticket to Gangneung, her favorite beach town. She took it with a frown, her surprise morphing into something akin to embarrassment mixed with frustration. Not a good sign but the boy tried not to lose hope as he waited patiently for her to say something.

"You don't have to do this. You don't have to, I don’t know, trying to convince me that life is beautiful or whatever," Jieun scoffed but her fingers grazed across the paper ticket in her hands like it was something precious. Her addition almost sounded like resignation. "I don't want to die."

The not anymore echoed somewhere between them.

"I know. But I want to do these things with you," Seunghun insisted because it wasn't just about that. What happened to her made him realize that life was fragile and fleeting, he didn't have all the time in the world to wait around for a chance with her. He didn't want to procrastinate these plans anymore.

But it wasn't enough for Jieun, it never was. She liked logic and reasons and the truth.

"Why?" She asked firmly and Seunghun felt like he was held at gunpoint.

Because we are best friends sounded like a lie.

"I want to be the one you do these things with," he admitted and it sounded like a confession. He didn't plan it but his voice softened as he looked at her, his eyes were probably full of the longing he tried to hide so hard all these years because he knew she would reject him for a better or worse reason.

"Seunghun…" Jieun sighed and he thought this was it, she knew and she would reject him. Of course, she knew. He wasn't exactly subtle, even Jinah knew and she knew him for the least amount of time. Jieun looked at him and the boy held his breath, waiting for the blow. The invisible gun, aimed at his heart, fired. "You deserve better. I'm such a mess and a bad influence. You deserve a pretty girl who is kind and patient."

It didn't hurt as much as he expected. Jieun said nothing about her feelings or that his were ridiculous or one-sided. She just said what she thought was true because she had no idea how he saw her, how much he could thank her. She might not have been the conventional idea of pretty but to him, she was the prettiest. And bad influence? When it was her who pushed him to believe in himself and keep trying because he could do anything?

"I don't want anybody else," he said because he knew he couldn't have convinced her of anything else. “I like you.”

Jieun abruptly stood up from her swing and leaned over him, grabbing the metal chains to support herself just above his hands, her hair falling around them like a silk curtain and her warm breath fanning over his skin. Seunghun felt heat rush to his cheeks as he kept eye contact and warmth spread through his whole body from the point where her pinky brushed against his fingers.

"Why me?" Jieun asked and it was the most ridiculous question because the boy couldn't have said why it could not have been her.

The girl who had taken the blame when they had gotten caught being late from school because there had been a long queue for the waffle they had bought before classes. The one who had been there for more of his dance recitals than his own parents. The only one who had told him he could do it even when he hadn’t believed it. His safe place. His first love.

"It could never be anybody else," he whispered. He didn't mean it literally and she knew it. There were girls who had approached him before both in class and at the dance academy but he didn't care. To him, there was only Jieun.

"Idiot," she murmured but there was no edge to her words, only fondness. She sat back down on the swing next to him, feet kicking sand.

Seunghun turned to her, watching her expressions closely before he reached for her hand. First, he just tentatively held it, half-expecting Jieun to pull away, like she always did but when she didn't, he intertwined their fingers. They were both holding on.

What was love if not this? Feeling content just by sharing a space, this kind of closeness between two people? Knowing that by being vulnerable with them, they could hurt you and yet you willingly give them the power because you hope they wouldn't? Why? Because they love you too.

#cix angst #cix scenarios #seunghun angst #seunghun scenarios #cix seunghun #stories

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bluesadansey · 1 year

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top 5 characters with your zodiac sign (stolen from you), top 5 wlw pjo/hoo ships, top 5 tropes that you love and top 5 that you hate

5 characters with my zodiac sign I could only think of three canon Taurus chars I love so the last two I counted headcanons for, and neither of those characters has a canon birth date

canon taureans

•Hope Mikaelson (TVDu) ((I do see the arguments Ares sun fits her better but I think Taurus sun with other fire placements also fits her quite nicely and again I don’t have a lot of favorite characters with my sign let me have this lol)•Dan Wilds (Aftg) and we share a birthday!

•Emily Fields (technically in the Pll books she’s a Taurus and going off her show bday she’s a Scorpio but I do think that Taurus sun fits show Emily better overall too and Ik when we discussed this you agreed with me :))

And then two characters I’ve always seen as Taurus are Blue Sargent (Trc) and Marina Andrieski (The Magicians)

Top 5 wlw pjo/hoo ships

Pipeyna

Pipabeth

Reynabeth

Rueguard

this could be one of a couple ships depending on my mood but I’m going with Thalia x Zoe rn because it’s very underrated imo

Top 5 tropes I love (didn’t want to agonize over ranking these so bullet points again) •enemies to friends to lovers or any iteration on these things (lovers to enemies, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, reluctant allies to friends to lovers etc.) •doppelgängers, shadow selves and dynamics between a hero and their shadow selves can be a romance can be enemies etc. •anything to do with parallel worlds •the overachiever girl from a seemingly perfect (and this mean different things) background who struggles to fulfill familial expectations, is actually very unhinged at times and has some sort of spiral where she ends up off her original path at least for a while, and part of the subtext is usually about her repressed sapphic ness a la Spencer Hastings / Annie Edison / Julia Wicker

•the mean girl character who is originally set against the protagonist but as the story progresses she’s shown to be sympathetic and layered in her own right, and her relationship with the protagonist is allowed to develop into at least respect maybe friendship that’s usually pretty homoerotic. honorable mention to this specific flavor of opposites attract dynamics that’s like ‘on the surface we could not be more different but we can relate/connect/are actually more similar than anyone else when it comes to very specific things that aren’t obvious. And not really a trope which is why I didn’t include them but I love fantasy stories about witches and/or vampires. Also I can’t lie I do love a magical school setting. Codependent relationships in general. Sister stories!!! LOVE those. Bottle episodes and bottle episode adjacent episodes my beloved!! I have a lot of favorite tropes actually Top 5 tropes I hate

insta love I have exceptions and these exceptions are like, reincarnation stories such as dosab where there’s a reason for it and Rue x Jules because they simply had the range/chemistry. But usually I hate it. Also combining this with any fated/pre-destined/other forces or people are always telling the audience this pairing is meant to be without doing the work of showing/developing the relationship to be appealing/seem to work well together

mystical pregnancy, most pregnancy and baby story arcs in general

media concerned with parental/familial issues where all the mothers are demonized while the fathers get to be complicated parents like tm tended to do. Something I found refreshing about watching pll was that it was a total reverse of this with all the fathers being irredeemable monsters and the mothers being more complex

I ranted about this recently re: the va show but I really dislike when a fantasy work has this aspect of metaphorical bigotry as a theme and the characters who voice said bigotry are usually poc

Ik this is solely a fic thing but fucking hate abo lol

Thank you! (Ask me too 5 of anything)

#s speaks #pll #pjo #hoo #legacies #va #the magicians #trc #community #euphoria #dosab #just tagging whatever fandoms I specifically mentioned in the post I was alluding to / referring to others too

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spacey-moocom · 6 months

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⚠️SPOILERS FOR ZELDA OCARINA OF TIME FOR ANYONE PLAYING IT FOR THE FIRST TIME⚠️

Finally beat Ocarina of Time for the first time. (Played on NSO btw) Here’s my thoughts and personal rating:

The game in terms of story is obviously an artistic masterpiece. If you didn’t know that then watch this video: https://youtu.be/GyUcwsjyd8Q?si=nd7AdwU0nIom6UvN

I can’t say more than what’s already been said in that regard except that the only way to enhance your understanding of the story after this video is to play the game. Truly the most tragic Zelda game (imo).

The game is old. It feels old. The camera is ROUGH, the slow dialogue boxes when the only other option is skipping straight to the end are unfortunate, the z-lock combat is occasionally jank (especially when switching between enemies is occasionally prioritized over turning it off), and there’s a sense I have that some of what our “legacy” gamers call “old-school difficulty” is just annoying, unfun bs. Nothing that bad, just mildly frustrating choices, like constantly having to switch boots in the Water Temple. Another example would be in Ganon’s Castle, where, if you’re like me and didn’t get the fire arrows because you’re a silly goose, you literally can’t progress. I never used fire arrows except for two or three rooms in that castle, but the rest of the whole game I managed to avoid them. Especially the Spirit room (I think) though, where you need to shoot a fire arrow into the ceiling. Why? What was the reason? Was it a reference to how you get the fire arrows? Did anyone actually get that without a guide or without trial and error? It’s hard for me to imagine so, and I call bs. But it hardly detracts from the rest of the game.

Obviously the music is fucking iconic. Lost Woods, the Ocarina songs, Sheik’s theme—omfg they popped tf off. Modern recordings in orchestral settings bring out the musicality more imo but that is just a testament to how great the original music is imo.

99% of the dungeon design is undefeated. The puzzles are satisfying, thought-provoking, and creative. Almost every time I needed to google something it turned out that I had just forgotten an option I had or otherwise could’ve come up with the solution myself if I’d thought about it a bit longer. With occasional bs exception, the gameplay in this game is sincerely masterful. I love this game istg

The graphics have that old-school charm and are consistently comprehensible and atmospheric. I never felt confused at what I was looking at in a way that was anything except the camera’s fault. The animations are honestly surprisingly solid for such an old game. Generally, the visual storytelling, style, and aesthetic are just 🤌 I love them

I want to note the final boss fight against Ganon. Dear GOD that fight is INCREDIBLE. The MUSIC. The SETTING. The SOUNDS. The VISUALS. The SCREAM Zelda lets out every time you get hit. There is not a single fight in gaming I’ve had that feels like that fight. The sense of dread Ganon releases just by LOOKING the way it does, the way the SHADOWS cover it’s fucking FACE OH MY GOD. It feels so final. It feels so dramatic. It feels so intense. It feels so animalistically terrifying. I. ADORE. This. Fight.

Overall, my personal rating for OoT is a 23/20. I love the soundtrack, I love the story, and I so, so, SO appreciate what this game did for gaming in years past. The only thing about it is that I just didn’t like the jank. And there is jank. Because it is old. Which made my enjoyment less than it could’ve been. I am desperately praying and hoping for a version of this game made with the game design lessons we learned since the game released. If this game was remade, it would have the potential, to be on par with Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom, in my book. This has been an advertisement for GoodBlood’s Ocarina of Time video.

youtube

#ocarina of time #Youtube

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ladyartemesia · 3 years

Text

All I Want For Christmas is You

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female Reader

Summary: When Park Jimin is unable to escort his precious sister through the gauntlet of corporate holiday galas, he blackmails his best friend Taehyung into being her chaperone. After all, who better to safeguard his headstrong sibling than a man who would never want her for himself? (She and Tae have spent the better part of a decade mutually disliking each other, and that’s putting it mildly.) Yet, even the best laid plans may go awry at Christmas and Kim Taehyung is about to discover that the girl he never wanted has become a temptation he cannot resist...

Genre: Comedy • Fluff • Smut

Tropes: Brother’s Best Friend (Reader is Jimin’s Sister) • Enemies-to-Lovers

Collab: This work is part of the Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tropes Collab featuring original holiday themed works by @ppersonna • @xjoonchildx • @underthejoon • @yeojaa • @untaemedqueen • and @snackhobi

Word Count: 17K (I know—I am shocked too honestly)

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: suggestive photographs • mention of accidentally being hit with a baseball • hints of jealousy and possessiveness • light tit slapping • explicit sexual content • m/f oral sex • consensual unprotected sex (shield it before you yield it y’all) • Viola’s mirror kink makes yet another appearance •

Acknowledgements:

To @ppersonna (Lindy) @underthejoon (Fal) and @xjoonchildx (Ana) you guys are my heart. Your support, willingness to read (and re-read) and give honest feedback made this fic special. Your friendship is my daily dose of awesome. Truly, I love you.

To @untaemedqueen (D) all of the above applies to you, but I owe you a little something extra for the LITERAL HOURS you spent in the doc with me. This fic would not be here without you. You kept me moving. You inspired me. You were amazing. Thank you so very much. This story is lovingly dedicated to you.

To @hobi-gif for being the most thorough and incredible beta reader and for having all the important girl chats with me. I think you learned more about my past than you wanted... Either way you made this story better and I am profoundly grateful for the hours of time you spent. I have removed all the Hope-No-No words in your honor.

To @lemonjoonah as always, you knew EXACTLY what I needed to tweak to make this story work. (Gotta pass that Lemon Litmus Test or no dice lol.) My lovely soul twin. You’re a bloomin’ rockstar.

Please Picture This Taehyung:

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Yes. Because you absolutely owe me.”

“Then send me a bill, not your unmanageable harpy of a sister.”

Jimin raised a single unimpressed brow.

“Kim Taehyung. It was exactly five years ago today that I carried your drunken naked ass two miles in the rain after you set your clothes on fire and sprained your ankle at that Beta Phi party.” He paused dramatically. “Do you remember what you said to me that night? After I deleted several pictures off phones and paid off half the party to keep it out of the papers?”

The man in question shifted uncomfortably.

“That incident is a bit hazy in my memory. I’m not sure I recall—”

“Jiminie—you’re the best and I—I owe… you. I owe you the most, Jiminie. I do—I owe you a favor—one BIG favor—anything you ask… Even though... I actually like being naked. I don’t think we need clothes. We should all be naked. Everyone. Then there would be world peace.”

Taehyung’s jaw dropped.

“You RECORDED IT?!”

Jimin grinned, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“Naturally. And I had it all ready to go—just in case you needed extra convincing.” He crossed his arms and fixed his best friend of nearly fifteen years with a triumphant smirk. “I’m calling in that favor today, Taehyung. Now are you a man of your word or not?”

“He did WHAT?!”

Your mother winced.

“Jimin was... uncomfortable leaving you alone for the holiday season. He normally accompanies you to the galas but this year—”

“This year I was going to go alone and finally build my reputation as an asset to this family!”

Park Soomin sighed as she watched her daughter pace fiercely around the living room of their luxury suite.

“No one doubts that you’re an asset, but… in light of recent events...”

Rage and embarrassment flared up in your chest before you could stop them.

“This is about Milo… isn’t it?”

The silence that greeted your statement was confirmation enough.

“Are you ever going to trust me again?” you whispered.

“Oh sweetheart... it isn’t you we don’t trust...”

Tears burned at the corner of your eyes, but you ruthlessly blinked them back.

You would play along with their humiliating schemes.

For now.

“So which one of Jimin’s Ivy League brat pack did he blackmail into babysitting me?

For the first time in the entirety of the conversation, your mother looked truly nervous.

“Kim Taehyung.”

You tripped over your own feet and face-planted into the sofa.

“Jungkook, I need to look into faking my own death. Nothing too over the top. Just a tasteful disappearance—”

The man in question could barely restrain his grin.

“You don’t pay me nearly enough to deal with your mother in the event of your tragic demise and miraculous resurrection.”

“I could pay you more.”

“Or,” Jungkook replied with a heavy dose of judgment coloring his tone, “you could put on this ridiculous tie and stop trying to weasel out of it.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I pay you at all,” Taehyung growled, yanking the tie from the younger man’s grasp. “Clearly I’m not the one in charge.”

“Your words, sir, not mine. Now shall we go over the details and itinerary?”

If Jeon Jungkook wasn’t the best executive aide in the city (and one of his closest friends) Tae would have drop-kicked him right then and there.

“Could you at least try to look like you’re not enjoying this?”

“I’m sorry, sir. It was insensitive of me to ignore your suffering in this delicate time. The trauma of escorting a beautiful woman to a series of glorified buffets weighs heavily upon you.”

Taehyung tightened the tie so aggressively, he almost strangled himself.

“Beautiful woman?!” he wheezed. “We’re talking about the girl who showed up to our formal graduation party looking like she just escaped from Azkaban.”

Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.

“Tae… how long has it been since you’ve actually seen Ms. Park?”

“Seen? Maybe three—four years.”

The heir-apparent of Kim Holdings avoided the public end of corporate culture like the plague, preferring to leave the requisite schmoozing to his personable cousin, Kim Seokjin.

However, he had crossed paths with his adolescent nemesis in... other ways.

Taehyung was romancing a lovely young socialite who suddenly ghosted him after someone told her that he wanted at least eight naturally-birthed children.

Soon after, your favorite charity received an anonymous 30,000 dollar donation requesting that you be featured in the dunk tank for an upcoming benefit carnival and then the same anonymous patron paid for at least fifteen little league teams to attend.

In retaliation, someone petitioned the National Aviary Society (chaired by a very influential senator’s wife that no one ever refused if they wanted their permits to go through) to make Taehyung the MC at their annual awards ceremony—knowing full well he was allergic to birds (not dangerously allergic—just enough to be miserable).

Taehyung had sniffled and sneezed through approximately one hundred parrots, parakeets, and other assorted fowl until he was ready to commit murder.

The last several years had been littered with similar incidents of the two of you taking thinly veiled potshots at one another.

“I can’t imagine she’s changed very much,” Taehyung bit off absently. His mind was abruptly consumed by how he could get revenge for those demonic birds.

He didn’t notice the smile creeping over Jungkook’s face.

“No, sir. I’m sure she hasn’t changed at all.”

Taehyung had only ever had the wind knocked out of him once before.

He was Dionysia High School’s star pitcher for three seasons and during one particularly tense game against JY Prep, Lim Jaebeom whacked a line drive right into his solar plexus.

That’s how it felt to look up and see you at the top of the stairs.

In his head, you were still the mischievous imp from his childhood. Every prank he played was directed at the fierce little fiend with braids and braces who’d knocked him and his date into the university fountain while experimenting with her friend’s skateboard.

But she was gone… and in her place was something far more dangerous.

A woman.

Silken fabric wrapped tightly over curves you definitely didn’t have four years ago. That wild hair had been tamed into shining waves and pinned elegantly at the nape of your neck. The wicked slit that traveled all the way up your thigh teased a smooth shapely leg that all but demanded the viewer fantasize about running their hand up the length of it.

Suddenly it was very clear why Park Jimin wouldn’t let his sister venture into the corporate cesspool alone.

Because the sight of you could make a man desperate.

Betrayal—of all things—slowly crept over Taehyung as you descended toward him like some sort of angel floating down from the heavens.

His mind went blank. Just watching the seductive shift of your hips as you swayed ever closer felt like a violation of his friendship with Jimin. He could feel the judgmental stares of an imaginary Bro-Code Council boring into him from on high.

“I see you’ve recovered from your memorable tenure as the Aviary Society’s Master of Ceremonies.”

And just like that the brat was back.

Taehyung breathed a hefty sigh of relief, secretly thrilled to be in familiar territory with you.

“Naturally I was delighted to help Senator Mitchell’s wife. In fact, Mitchell’s office just fast tracked all my pending permit requests for the new year.” He tilted forward, coming into your space a bit. “I should really send you a thank you card.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you scowled, breezing past him like an indignant queen.

Tae could practically see the steam pouring out of your ears.

“Of course not,” he chuckled.

The first gala of the holiday season was an extravagant annual affair hosted by Min Corp., a Seoul based investment firm that commanded billions in assets. This year, the theme of the event was the Joseon Dynasty and the entire ballroom had been gloriously transformed into a stunning celebration of the Min family’s royal heritage.

Attendees were gifted their own traditional fan, each uniquely crafted by artisans from Damyang. Taehyung’s was all black with bold silver calligraphy while yours was a beautiful bamboo and silk piece decorated with pomegranate trees.

You had already whacked three people with it by the time dinner was served.

“It really is a pity these fell out of fashion,” you lamented. “They’re quite useful.”

“You are deranged,” Taehyung mumbled, massaging his temples in exasperation.

“Nonsense. I only fanned those who deserved it.”

“Harkins?”

“He was staring at my rack for a solid minute.”

Taehyung could hardly blame the man, it was a battle he himself was losing after all, but Harkins was twice your age and married—therefore his ogling was in especially poor taste.

“Okay... What about Kang?”

“He was verbally abusing one of the waitstaff.”

“Alright, fair enough, but why on earth would you go after sweet old Mrs. O’Malley?”

“She was about to grab your ass.”

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open.

“She’s eighty-five!”

“And still kickin’ apparently.” You shook your head in disgust. “As if I’d whack an eighty-five year-old woman for anything less than non-consensual touching.”

“I- I- mean—surely you must be mistaken,” he coughed.

“Oh, there’s no mistake. That nasty old crone is a serial offender. She likes to play it off as dementia, but she’s as sharp as a tack. Last year she got a whole handful of Jimin. Honestly, I’d call the police on her, but the commissioner is her grandson so I doubt I’d get very far.”

Taehyung turned to the woman in question just in time to see her totter lecherously toward Jung Hoseok, fingers already twitching in anticipation.

“Is nothing sacred?” he mused hollowly.

You shrugged.

“Many people who accumulate as much as our families have start believing that they are entitled to whatever strikes their fancy.” Your eyes met his with a hint of bemusement. “Surely you should be used to this sort of thing by now?”

“Yes, but I was hardly expecting it from little old ladies!”

The remainder of dinner was a terse affair where you pretended he didn’t exist for the entire meal and he in turn pretended that the spunky young heiress seated to his right was the most darling creature to ever walk the earth. By dessert she was ready to get married and you were ready to vomit.

Afterward, Taehyung found himself quickly converted to your views on fan usefulness as you began strolling through the crowd intent on strengthening your family’s corporate ties.

“Kim Taehyung,” you ground out through clenched teeth, “how am I supposed to do business if you keep stabbing everyone I speak to!”

“I don’t know what you’re implying. I’m simply not used to carrying one of these. I may have accidentally grazed a few overzealous individuals—”

“My last three conversations have been rudely disrupted by the blunt end of that accused fan.”

Taehyung crossed his arms smugly.

“And what of it? Jimin sent me along to keep an eye on you and the gentlemen in question were hardly behaving themselves. No one has to put their hand in my back or lean that close to me when they’re talking business.”

“That’s because no one wants to get that close to you,” you replied sweetly. “You’re gross.”

A devastating grin slid slowly over his features as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear.

“I can think of several women who might disagree.”

He just barely caught the hitch in your breath before-

“Like who? Miss Blushes-and-Giggles from dinner?”

“Jealous?” Taehyung drawled cockily.

“Only in your dreams, Kim.” Then, with a deliberate flick of your fan, you turned your back to him. “I’m headed for the ladies room. Do yourself a favor and don’t follow me in.”

It was twenty minutes before Taehyung realized that you slipped out the back entrance of the restroom.

It took another ten for him to locate you on the balcony flirting outrageously with Min Yoongi.

The young heir of Min Corp. was just leaning closer to whisper sweet nothings in your ear when a black fan slid right in between the two of you.

“Lovely weather we’re having,” Taehyung observed cheerfully. His eyes bounced between you and Yoongi with barely concealed fury and you let out a miserable groan.

“Mr. Kim,” Yoongi cleared his throat significantly. “What an… unexpected surprise.”

Frustration clawed at your chest as your overbearing guardian nodded smugly in response.

It was time to teach him—and Jimin—a lesson.

“Yoongi,” you sighed, sliding your hand pointedly through the crook of his arm, “I’m not feeling at all well. Would you perhaps… escort me home?”

Taehyung suddenly looked as if he’d swallowed a live octopus.

Yoongi grinned, clearly thrilled with the prospect of simultaneously spending more time with you and irritating Taehyung.

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Jimin is gonna kill me,” Taehyung grumbled as he watched Min Yoongi help you into the passenger seat of his Aston Martin.

An ugly green feeling he refused to identify twisted sharply in his gut when you smiled coyly at the other man.

“This is ridiculous,” he snarled to no one in particular before yanking his phone out of his pocket.

Jungkook picked up on the second ring.

“Sir?”

“I need you to drive to Ms. Park’s apartment and tell me if she goes in alone or if Min Yoongi goes in with her.”

“You want me to what?!”

“Just do it!” he snapped, downing an entire glass of champagne before signaling his own driver.

Fifteen minutes later his phone vibrated from the car seat next to him.

1 New Message from: Jungkook

Her building has four separate entrances. Which one do I watch?

Taehyung could practically feel the vein pulsing in his forehead as he scrolled through his contacts.

You picked up on the fourth ring.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Oh it’s you… Wait—how did you get this number?”

“Jimin. Obviously. Now please answer the question.”

“Oh a ‘please.’ Who knew you had manners?”

“Answer the question, Park. I’m tired.”

The distinct sound of a zipper unzipping carried through the speaker.

“I’m at home, of course. Where else would I be? I just got here like a minute ago.”

He had a sudden vision of Min Yoongi helping you out of your dress. His grip on the phone tightened.

“Are you alone?”

You snorted.

“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

Taehyung saw red.

“I’m coming over.”

There was a loud crash and several colorful words in at least three different languages.

“Wha- No! I’m trying to go to bed!”

“With who?!”

“With myself, you idiot!”

“Prove it!”

“Fine! I will!”

The line disconnected and Taehyung swore loudly. He was just about to direct the driver to your building when his phone went off again.

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin

He almost choked on his tongue.

You were clearly in the middle of undressing and—in your irritation—probably hadn’t looked too carefully at the picture you sent.

At first glance it was simply a shot of your empty room (presumably “proof” that you were alone) but you neglected to consider the floor-length mirror hanging in the far corner…

A mirror that showed you angrily holding up your phone with your gown pooled deliciously around your waist and the soft round swells of your breasts strapped into lacy red lingerie.

You were exquisite.

A fierce, hot sensation gripped him ruthlessly, and this time there was no mistaking it.

Desire.

Your phone lit up on the bed where you tossed it after snapping a photo for your tightly-wound man nanny.

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch

I didn’t know you liked Van Gogh.

Your head tilted in confusion.

There was a Van Gogh print in your room, but he couldn’t have seen it because it was behind you when-

Oh NO.

You gasped, scrolling back up to confirm what deep down you already knew to be true.

… You just sent Kim Taehyung a topless mirror selfie.

Several miles away, smiling smugly in the backseat of his town car, Taehyung was sure he could almost hear you screaming.

“Good morning, sir. Which would you like first; the bad news or the worse news?”

Taehyung groaned from underneath his covers.

“Don’t you ever knock? I could have a woman up here.”

“You’ve never brought a woman up here.”

“Is that the bad news?” Taehyung yawned.

“No,” Jungkook tossed a small stack of newspapers and printed digital articles into his lap, “this is the bad news.”

Pictures of you, Min Yoongi, and even himself were splashed over the front pages of all of them.

PARK ANGEL TRADES ONE CORPORATE HEIR FOR ANOTHER AT MIN GALA

WHO WILL WIN THE PARK ANGEL’S HEART? KIM TAEHYUNG OR MIN YOONGI? LET US KNOW IN THE COMMENTS

NEW ROMANCE ALERT? PARK ANGEL LEAVES JOSEON BALL WITH MIN SCION

“The Park Angel?”

“That’s what the media calls her... The public is rather fascinated with her actually.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Taehyung mumbled.

“Of course not, sir. It’s a great mystery.”

As usual, Taehyung chose to ignore his aide’s lethal snark and pressed on to the matter at hand.

“This is a flaming disaster.”

“Oh I don’t know. I really appreciated the picture of you staring on forlornly while she and Yoongi climbed into the Aston Martin. Takes a real gift to capture all that drama in a single frame.”

“Which one was that?!”

“It’s right under the MAN DOWN: PARK ANGEL LEAVES KIM TAEHYUNG HEARTBROKEN headline.”

Tae ran his hand down over his face in exasperation.

“I’m surprised my mother hasn’t called.”

“She has. Twice.”

“I don’t suppose that’s the ‘worse news’ is it?”

“No.”

“Of course it isn’t. I’m never that lucky.” He collapsed backwards into his pillows with a beleaguered huff. “Go ahead then. Tell me.”

“Park Jimin is on the line for you right now.”

After a small eternity on the phone with Jimin (assuring him that NO Min Yoongi had not despoiled his precious sister and YES he would definitely do better next time), Taehyung was forced to attend an impromptu brunch with his mother. It took considerable effort, but he was eventually able to convince her that you were neither breaking his heart nor expecting his child.

By the time he arrived to collect you for this evening’s event, Taehyung was already sick of hearing your name (he’d spoken it no less than three hundred times since Jungkook woke him this morning).

You were in much the same boat as Taehyung, having spent most of the afternoon pacifying Jimin and clearing up your own mother’s romantic delusions regarding the Min and Kim heirs respectively.

Tonight’s gala was a Victorian Christmas Ball thrown by the National Literary Fund and the entire venue had been transformed into a Charles Dickens fever dream.

Unlike the Min Gala (whose theme was guarded like a state secret every year) the Literary Fund’s tribute to A Christmas Carol was tradition and you were dressed accordingly in a custom corset gown with gorgeous detailing.

Every second of effort it took to lace yourself into the monstrosity was worth the look on Taehyung’s face the moment you slipped off your cape.

“Something wrong, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung was desperately trying to look literally anywhere but your chest, where said corset was serving up your breasts like a debauched buffet.

Jimin. Think of Jimin. Think of what Jimin will do to you. Think of how much trouble she’s caused-

He peeked again.

I would pay a million dollars to suck those tits.

“Nothing at all,” his voice cracked.

The itinerary for the evening included performances by a local children’s choir, a traditional waltz, and—of course—dinner.

You both managed to get along without snapping at each other during the choral performance, but as two of the largest donors to the Children’s Literacy Initiative, neither of you could escape being drawn into the waltz.

The energetic socialite who Taehyung flirted with over dinner the previous night eventually lured him onto the floor while you graciously accepted an invitation from a lovely older gentleman who chaired the Fund’s event committee.

For the first few movements, you were thoroughly enjoying yourself. Mr. Lee was charming, respectful, and still an excellent dancer despite his advanced age. It wasn’t until a familiar sound caught your attention that the lightness in your chest suddenly felt heavy...

Taehyung was laughing.

You heard him do so many times over the years, and in each instance, the carefree magic of it never failed to make your heart flutter.

But now he was smiling down at the pretty little heiress and laughing for her… and the flutter in your chest was accompanied by something else.

Something that felt an awful lot like longing.

“Does he know you look at him like that?” Mr. Lee asked quietly.

Your eyes flew guiltily to his, but it was too late. The old man had caught a glimpse of the secret you buried deeply for more than a decade; so deeply, in fact, there were times you almost forgot it yourself...

Almost.

“No,” you whispered, “he has no idea.”

Disaster struck at dinner.

Taehyung quite liked dancing with the lovely Miss Something-or-Other. She was sweet and funny and (unlike with you) he wasn’t constantly torn between agitation and raging inappropriate lust in her presence.

The cold shoulder you offered him when he took his seat seemed even more frigid than usual and he spent half the meal wondering what he’d done to earn your amplified disdain when suddenly—

Your hand smacked down on his wrist, seizing it in a vise-like grip.

Taehyung nearly choked on his steak and was about to give you a searing set-down over your spontaneous grabby-ness when he noticed your expression.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, leaning forward in concern.

“I-I need—”

It looked as if you were in some sort of physical pain and Taehyung was rapidly becoming worried.

“I need your help,” you finally managed to whimper and the next thing he knew, you were dragging him away from the table and into one of the secluded alcoves near the main entrance hall.

“Is there anyone around? Can anyone see us?” The look on your face bordered on unhinged.

“No. There’s no one. Park, are you okay? What’s going on I—”

“I need you to unlace my dress,” you hissed frantically.

At that moment, a bomb could have gone off and Taehyung wouldn’t have blinked.

You, however, were completely preoccupied with your own distress and therefore oblivious to his.

“My earring broke during dinner and fell down there and now it’s stabbing me—”

Your eyes were beginning to tear. Taehyung remained frozen, still trying to figure out whether or not this was a lucid dream.

“—it’s definitely pierced the skin and there’s a possibility I’m gonna start bleeding through the fabric—”

The mention of blood snapped him out of his daze somewhat.

“A-Alright. Just turn around—brace yourself on that wall.”

You quickly did as you were told and Taehyung began to tug fruitlessly at the ties cross-crossing your back.

“Why won’t this—”

His fingers fumbled over the knots, desperately trying to loosen them, but they simply wouldn’t budge.

“I can’t—I can’t get it. Whoever helped you into this thing made sure you weren’t getting out of it.”

You whined in frustration and the earring shifted a bit in response.

There was only one other way to fix this (and you would almost rather be in pain).

“Taehyung I—” you turned to face him again, forcing your eyes shut before reluctantly doing what had to be done “... I need you to reach down the front of my dress and get it.”

He blinked. Twice.

“I’m sorry—What did you just—”

“Please, Tae,” you whispered desperately, letting your lip tremble in a way he had never been able to resist, “it hurts…”

He gulped.

His eyes dropped to the matter at hand.

This is fine. Everything’s fine. She’s in pain, right? You’re basically a doctor right now. You’re just going slide your hand in between the most mouthwatering pair of breasts you’ve ever seen and then—

Taehyung’s manic inner monologue was interrupted by the sound of his own moan. He immediately faked a coughing fit to cover it and prayed you hadn’t noticed.

(You hadn’t. You were actively being stabbed.)

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” he muttered, curling his fingers over the scalloped edge of the bodice.

You bit your lip, desperately trying to hold back any reaction, but when his knuckle brushed the pebbled tip of your nipple, you gasped.

Oh.

His hand stuttered, lingering a moment too long over the tight little peak as his gaze suddenly shot up to meet yours. Both of you had been studiously avoiding eye contact, yet now it was as if neither of you could look away.

Taehyung wet his lips reflexively.

“It’s too tight,” he whispered, “I need more leverage.”

Then his arm wrapped over the curve of your lower back and he drew you tightly against him, anchoring your hips just enough to fully slip his hand between your body and the corset.

You were so warm.

So soft...

“I can feel it,” he grunted, “but I can’t get a good grip on it.”

His mouth pressed into a tight line as he leaned forward, bringing your back up against the wall. You let out a little squeak and his eyes darted briefly down to your mouth before he spoke again.

“Hold on to me.”

You nodded and wordlessly slid your arms around his waist.

If you concentrated hard enough, you could almost pretend that this wasn’t one of the most erotic moments of your life.

You could almost pretend that it meant nothing.

Your mind was spinning wildly, wondering what he was thinking, wondering if he noticed how strangely you were breathing or how hard your heart was beating...

“I’ve got it,” he murmured. Shivers shot down your spine at the dark timbre of his voice.

He was so close. You could feel every word he spoke brushing softly against your skin.

“On ‘three’ I’m going to pull it out… Are you ready?”

You drew in a final steadying breath.

“Do it.”

He nodded.

“One… Two… Three—”

Taehyung yanked his hand back and several things happened at once.

Your breasts bounced almost entirely out of the corset.

The decorative clasps on the front of your gown tangled with the buttons on his shirt and when he pulled back, three of them went flying off like stray bullets.

And finally, the corset didn’t relinquish Taehyung’s hand quite quickly enough and, as a result, you toppled forward and crashed down on top of him, smashing your newly bare breasts to his newly bare chest.

It could have been ten seconds or ten hours that passed by while the two of you lay there, breathing heavily in a pile of confused arousal when—

“... Is… everything alright here?”

You both looked up to find a thoroughly scandalized member of the waitstaff standing over you.

Taehyung saw his life flash before his eyes—ending (of course) with Jimin murdering him for this.

He gulped again.

“I can explain.”

It was decided—for the sake of appearances—that you would both leave the venue (immediately) in separate vehicles.

Taehyung dropped a cool three hundred in crisp bills on the unfortunate waiter in order to help him ‘forget’ whatever he may or may not have seen.

Neither of you spoke another word to each other in the ten minutes it took to bribe all the appropriate parties, gather your coats, and call for two separate town cars.

Something had happened when he touched you; a subtle shift in the precarious balance of your relationship that you both felt keenly, but could not possibly begin to define.

Taehyung barely even remembered climbing into the back of a vehicle. His body was firing on auto-pilot after the sensory overload of the last half hour. It wasn’t until he was nearly home that he realized he was still holding onto your earring.

His mind began to wander as he examined the troublesome bauble in his palm. It was a striking piece; deceptively complex and unexpectedly beautiful.

Just like you.

He told himself that the heat pooling low in his belly was anger—that the strange anxiousness to be near you was simply a desire for retribution—that it was merely platonic curiosity that left his hands aching to explore the rest of your curves.

Lies.

… and pitifully transparent ones at that.

Still, he clung to them desperately out of self-preservation.

The gentle hum of his phone suddenly disturbed Taehyung’s silent contemplation.

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin

I made it home safely.

Taehyung’s fingers were typing a reply before he could properly consider the consequence of his actions.

To: Park Gremlin

I require proof… like last time.

He nearly threw the phone the moment he sent it, running his hands down over his face in disbelief.

You’re playing with fire, Kim Taehyung.

And he was burning up already. He had no business sending you texts like that. Maybe you wouldn’t catch it. Maybe he could just-

The phone went off again and it was embarrassing how quickly he scrambled to open your response.

His heart stuttered in his chest. His breathing ceased entirely-

And he knew—he knew—there was no coming back from this.

At first glance the photo was nearly identical to the shot you sent him last night. Same room, same angle…

same mirror.

Yet this time, the reflection was quite different.

The temptress in the glass wore nothing but that sinfully delicious corset and a pair of silky lace thigh highs, each accented with a green satin bow.

He wanted to rip them off with his teeth.

“Oh Taehyung,” he whispered, as a dark wave primitive longing tore through him, “you are in so much trouble.”

Across town (buried beneath a pile of blankets) you were still struggling to process the boldness of your own actions when his response lit up your screen.

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch

Green is my favorite color.

“WHERE IS HE—”

Taehyung awoke to a series of crashes and shouts echoing from the floor below him.

Jungkook was already seated in the corner of the room reading a newspaper.

“Good morning, sir,” he said without looking up. “Would you like the bad news or the worse news?”

Suddenly the french doors of his bedroom slammed open and one very irate Park Jimin stormed through.

“I swear I should have seen this coming. The two of you have always been obsessed with each other, but I never imagined—”

Taehyung’s eyes widened guiltily. He quickly schooled his features into a confused glare.

“Jimin, I’ve only been awake for fifteen seconds. What the hell are you talking about?!”

Another stack of newspapers hit his lap and this time the pictures were mostly of him with his shirt ripped halfway down his chest.

KIM HEIR AND PARK ANGEL CAUSE AN OLD-FASHIONED SCANDAL AT VICTORIAN BALL

FORGET MISTLETOE: KIM TAEHYUNG DISCOVERED UNDER THE PARK ANGEL AT CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION

NAUGHTY NOEL? PARK ANGEL’S STEAMY AFFAIR WITH CORPORATE PRINCE

PARK ANGEL TOPS KIM TAEHYUNG’S CHRISTMAS TREE

He winced a bit at that last one.

“You have ten seconds to explain before I start throwing things.”

Taehyung opened his mouth to do just that, but he was interrupted when his mother marched into the room waving the same articles that Jimin had just thrown at him.

“KIM TAEHYUNG I raised you better than this! How could you!? That poor girl!”

“Mother!” he squeaked, yanking his blanket up over his chest like a frightened debutante.

Jungkook began surreptitiously filming the whole debacle from the corner.

“Indeed,” Jimin added darkly, crossing his arms over his chest, “how could you?”

Taehyung sighed heavily.

“Is anyone else going to come charging into my bedroom?”

“Just answer me once and for all, is she pregnant?”

“WHAT?!”

“NO! Mother! Oh my—”

“Why does your mom think my little sister is pregnant?!”

Taehyung waved his arms wildly in exasperation.

“My mom thinks everyone is pregnant! You know this!”

Jungkook could no longer contain his hysterical cackling. He very nearly fell off the chair trying to hold it all in.

“Mr. Jeon,” Taehyung ground out irritably, “if it’s not too much trouble, could you please escort everyone out of my bedroom so I can get dressed!”

“So you see—I was basically like a doctor,” Taehyung finished emphatically.

He spent the past twenty minutes explaining to the entire table (which now included both you and your mother) why it was necessary to shove his hand down the front of your dress.

Park Soomin had shown up at his door looking for answers (and dragging you behind her like a sacrificial lamb) about three minutes after Jimin.

You had taken one look at Jimin’s murderous expression and insisted that the situation be evaluated over breakfast at the cafe down the street (where there were lots of witnesses).

Which was how you, Taehyung, Jimin, and both your mothers ended up discussing your cleavage over coffee in a public restaurant.

Jimin was the first to break. It was a few snorts at first, but he was basically in tears by the end of it, wheezing about how he never doubted Taehyung for a second and holding on to his sides from laughing too hard.

Taehyung’s gaze met yours for a brief, heated exchange. He conveniently forgot to mention your slightly-less-than-explainable ‘check-in’ texts, but their existence was palpable in the air between you.

“I think I’ll take a walk,” you muttered, excusing yourself from the complicated atmosphere at the table.

Taehyung’s eyes lingered on you a tad too long as you wandered away, a fact that wasn’t missed by either of your mothers.

“Just a few more events and you can go back to not seeing her at all,” Jimin chuckled, patting him on the back.

“Yeah,” Taehyung answered with a tight smile. “That’s… great.”

The cafe had a lovely little balcony area decorated with all sorts of comforting Christmas foliage. It was far more inviting than the awkward conversation and confusing stares you and Taehyung had been trading all morning.

For the first time in the nearly fifteen years of your relationship (such as it was) you didn’t know where you stood with him… and it bothered you more than you cared to admit.

Taehyung had always been important to you, whether you wanted him to be or not. He mattered—effortlessly—from the first moment you met him and continued to do so without regard for your sanity.

Whatever was building between you now would almost certainly bring change… though what kind of change was anyone’s guess.

It was hard to imagine the years ahead without the strange excitement he always brought to your life, but some things were simply out of your control…

“I never thought I’d see you here.”

A profoundly unpleasant feeling (something similar to falling through the ice on a frozen pond) overtook you.

“Milo.” Even saying his name felt gross. You sighed. “What is so strange about seeing me here?”

The man in question blushed in a way you once found irresistible.

“I looked for you everywhere. All your usual places—”

“I avoided them.”

I avoided you.

Milo nodded.

“I—I figured.”

He took a step closer and you instinctively moved back. The hurt in his eyes was unmistakable, but you had long since become immune.

“What are you doing?” you hissed angrily. “I thought I made myself clear the last time we spoke.”

“Yes, but—” his hand reached out to curl over your forearm and you recoiled, “you didn’t give me a chance to explain—”

“Excuse me.”

You both turned to see Kim Taehyung with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Milo like he was a roach that crawled across his dinner plate.

“Your mother sent me to come find you. She wants to leave.”

You nodded and moved to pull away, but Milo’s grip tightened on your arm.

“No—please if you just give me a minute—”

“That is enough,” Taehyung snarled, seizing the other man’s hand and forcibly removing it from your person. He angled his body between the two of you protectively. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

Milo’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re Kim Taehyung. I read all about you in the papers this morning.” His lips twisted into an ugly sneer as he addressed you. “You really think you’re better off with him if that’s the way he treats you?”

Taehyung tensed menacingly beside you, but you laid a gentle hand on his arm to calm him.

“None of that is any of your concern.” Your gaze rose to meet his defiantly. “Nothing about me is your concern anymore.”

Milo’s eyes fell to where your palm rested on the other man’s sleeve, noticing the way you both unconsciously leaned toward one another.

“This isn’t over,” he muttered, storming off.

After he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding.

“Thank you,” you whispered (though you couldn’t resist adding), “I could have handled it myself of course…”

Taehyung laughed.

“Oh I know. I was at that party where you knocked out Tyler Jung for grabbing your ass.”

You grinned.

“I’d forgotten about that.”

“Well I’m sure Tyler hasn’t.”

(He neglected to mention that he split Tyler’s lip behind the library the next day, just to make sure it was extra memorable for him.)

“I wish I could forget about Milo.”

“... Are you still in love with him?”

The words tasted like ash in his mouth.

“No.” You smiled softly. “I’m not sure I was ever in love with him actually. It’s more—” you sighed, “—embarrassment… wounded pride.”

Taehyung tilted his head curiously and you found yourself continuing.

“In the beginning, he was very playful and charming—and obviously handsome. He reminded me so much of—”

you.

You cleared your throat.

“Anyway… I was quite taken with him at first. I didn’t suspect any ulterior motives.” You shrugged, trying to hold back the unpleasant emotions that always threatened to overrun you in moments like this. “I just thought he liked me.”

Taehyung’s eyes filled with sympathy and understanding as you spoke. It felt oddly natural to open up to him this way.

“Jimin is very protective of me—with good reason it turns out. He was suspicious of Milo and hired people to do some discreet digging.”

Your hands wrapped around your body for both warmth and comfort.

“Milo’s family owns several companies, just like ours, but they’re all struggling. His father sent him to me hoping that he would eventually get compromising information… a sex tape or photographs—something of that nature. They intended to blackmail Jimin into doing business with them.”

Taehyung felt his jaw clench painfully. Fury, hot and profound, rolled through him.

“I should kill him.”

You shook your head, amused in spite of yourself.

“That’s exactly what Jimin said.”

“He has good instincts.”

“Scum like Milo aren’t worth it,” you chuckled. “He never got what he wanted… but I was still mortified. I felt like such a fool for believing him.”

“No,” Taehyung’s hands slid up to cup your shoulders, “it’s not foolish to believe that someone cared for you.”

It would be so easy to care for you.

“Besides…” his eyes fell briefly to your lips as he searched for the right words, “I saw the way he looked at you and—even though he’s clearly a terrible person—I believe his feelings may have been genuine.”

You nodded.

“That’s what he keeps trying to tell me—that he did have bad intentions, but ended up falling for me anyway.” You shook your head. “As If I could believe a word he says.”

The silence between you stretched comfortably. Taehyung sensed you had more to say, so he waited until you were ready to voice it.

“I think that’s why I’m so sensitive about handling things on my own lately… and just now even. I want to prove to everyone—to myself—that I’m not a liability.”

“Hey,” he whispered, tipping your chin up till your gazes met, “no one thinks you’re a liability. And even if you are capable, no one should have to fight their own battles all the time—especially when they’re emotionally compromised…” His thumb gently brushed away the small tear that escaped down the curve of your cheek. “That’s the benefit of having people who care about you.”

“... Like you?”

The words left you so softly, you could almost imagine they were still in your head where they likely should have stayed.

Taehyung’s eyes widened in surprise. His gaze became even more intent and you ceased breathing altogether. After a moment his lips parted as if he was about to speak-

“What’s going on, guys?”

You both jerked back at the sound of your brother’s voice. He was standing in the entrance to the balcony, gaze darting suspiciously between the two of you.

Taehyung was a bit dazed, but you were always quicker on your feet.

“I ran into Milo… Tae was calming me down.”

Jimin’s eyes hardened immediately.

“Where is he?”

“Long gone,” you mumbled, ambling over to the familiar warmth of his arms. “I just want to go home.”

The Black and White Ball was one of the most coveted invitations of the holiday season.

The dress code was quite strict (all black or all white—no exceptions) and it was one of the few events where people actually arrived in limousines.

Taehyung loathed limousines. He felt absurdly pretentious pulling up to your building in such a gauche ride, but traditions and appearances meant too much in his world to simply disregard them.

His ensemble for the evening was a beautifully tailored black suit with hand-stitched baroque detailing. Oddly, he found himself wondering what you would think of it...

“You look like a vampire.”

Taehyung turned at the sound of your voice and was struck, yet again, by how incredibly beautiful you were.

You had chosen to wear white, donning an exquisite gown with delicate pearl beading and a daring sweetheart neckline that molded perfectly to your frame.

If he looked like a vampire, you were surely an angel.

Still…

Angel or not, he couldn’t let that comment pass.

“I think I’m offended.”

“I can’t imagine why. After all, loads of women are attracted to Nosferatu.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed.

“There are so many sexy vampires in popular culture, but you just had to lump me in with the creepy bald one...”

You shrugged playfully.

“I wouldn’t want you to think I was going soft.”

A wicked grin danced over your lips as you strolled past him regally—just as you had many times before...

This time, however, he let his eyes linger a little longer on the view.

Lord have mercy.

“Of course not,” he coughed.

“You’re what?!”

You rolled your eyes.

Tonight had been going rather well.

The two of you formed a mutual unspoken agreement to pretend that your last encounter on the balcony (and on the phone) had never happened and (despite the heated glances you occasionally traded) the bickering and playful banter characteristic of your relationship had all but returned to normal...

Until Taehyung learned of your participation in the evening’s main event.

“I told you, I’m part of the date auction this year.”

“Does your brother know about this?!”

“I didn’t see any reason to bother him with it.” You were suddenly preoccupied with your nails.

“Woman,” Taehyung sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “are you trying to make my life difficult?”

“No, I’m just naturally gifted in that respect.”

You turned and began making your way to the front, but Taehyung was hot on your heels and clearly not ready to let the matter rest.

“I cannot believe you’re actually going through with this! It’s not 1810, you know. We shouldn’t just auction off women for dates—”

“You’re absolutely right, Tae Tae.” You brushed a condescending pat over his cheek. “Nowadays we auction off the men too.”

Then you sauntered off to join the rest of the participating women—and men—backstage, leaving Taehyung to stew about the entire situation from the crowd.

“As you know, all proceeds from tonight’s auction go to fight childhood hunger right here in our city. For legal purposes, I must advise all bidders that you are only bidding on the company of the individual in question.”

Taehyung shook his head. “Jimin is probably going to kill me for this.”

“If you place the winning bid, then you and your date will receive two VIP tickets to the Governor's Winter Wonderland Gala which comes with a variety of amenities including; a luxury limousine service, one of the private and famously romantic Winter Wonderland dinner experiences—”

His eyes fluttered shut. “Jimin is definitely gonna kill me for this.”

“—unlimited free drinks, ten complimentary tickets for each of the grand prize raffles, photos with the Governor and his family, along with many more surprises!”

Taehyung grabbed a champagne flute from a nearby waiter and downed it in one go.

“And now for our first date of the evening! Mr. Jackson Wang!”

Jackson went for a cool six grand because no one was brave enough to outbid his girlfriend.

After him, the beautiful Manoban heiress and her handsome cousin Kim Namjoon went for twelve grand each.

Jung Hoseok started a frenzied bidding war between two young socialites and Mrs. O’Malley. He ended up going to the lovely Ms. Ana Fallon for a staggering twenty thousand dollars.

Taehyung’s own cousin, Kim Seokjin, paid a jaw-dropping twenty-one thousand dollars for Lin Yuna, the young CEO of Lin Cosmetics. (Taehyung made a mental note to ask him about that later.)

Then it was your turn.

“The next lady on our list needs no introduction. The lovely Park Angel has graciously agreed to a date with one lucky bidder tonight! Who will it be? Do I hear ten thousand?”

“Ten thousand.”

Taehyung swung his head toward the first bidder and breathed a sigh of relief.

Tam Martin, one of your best friends and very gay.

“Eleven thousand.”

“Twelve thousand.”

“Fifteen.”

“Sixteen thousand dollars.”

“Seventeen thousand.”

“Eighteen.”

Taehyung was having trouble keeping up with all the bidders. His ears were starting to ring again and a strange unpleasant nausea was building in his stomach.

“Twenty thousand.”

“Twenty-five thousand.”

“Thirty thousand!”

At the sound of the last bidder’s voice, you noticeably paled. Your eyes flew to Taehyung’s and immediately he knew exactly who it was.

Milo.

Before he could even react to the new information, another voice joined the fray.

“Forty thousand.”

Min Yoongi smiled smugly from the other side of the room and even had the audacity to throw you a wink.

You smiled shyly at the young heir’s boldness and Taehyung felt something downright unholy rise up in his chest.

No.

Milo was still bidding.

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

Not her.

“Sixty,” Yoongi countered.

She’s mine.

Suddenly Taehyung was on his feet.

“One hundred thousand dollars!”

The silence in the backseat of your limousine was deafening.

Tension charged the air like an electric current as the significance of the last hour weighed heavily between you.

The spacious luxury vehicle allowed you to sit facing one another. Taehyung’s eyes were focused on his hands, but you were looking at him—letting your mind run wild with speculation.

And hope.

Part of you was still there, on the stage, watching him stand up and bid a fortune for the pleasure of your company.

His gaze was so fierce when he spoke, like an ancient emperor calling out his decree for the people to obey.

You dreamed about him bidding on you when you signed up for the auction (even before Jimin bullied him into accompanying you). You let yourself imagine him speaking out again and again till the others stepped back—

Yet you never dared hope for it.

However, the last several days marked an unexpected turning point in your relationship.

For years, you and he were like magnets with a too-similar charge, but something had shifted irrevocably between you, and somehow your stubborn similarities became opposites that could not resist their attraction.

Kim Taehyung was one of the wealthiest men in the city…

But he didn’t need to buy your heart.

It had always been his, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

He had claimed you tonight—and every single soul in that ballroom knew it.

The next move was yours and you intended to make it.

“Mmm,” you hissed a bit, bringing your hand to rest just below your breasts.

Taehyung’s gaze flew up in concern.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, it’s just that scratch from the earring,” your fingers rubbed gingerly at the spot, drawing his focus to it, “it still stings.”

“Oh… I—” he shook his head, “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

“Do you want to see?”

Taehyung’s eyes rose slowly to yours.

You watched the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he considered your words. Anticipation vibrated through your blood like notes struck on a piano—

Then he nodded...

And you both were lost.

Trembling fingers slid the zipper down the side of your gown. The dress itself was a marvel of physics designed to support you without the need for a bra.

Taehyung drew in an impossibly deep breath as the fabric drifted to your waist, baring the perfect mounds of your breasts to him entirely.

“Here,” you whispered, pointing to a small red mark just under the curve of your left one.

He bit back a moan.

“I—I see. That looks… painful.” His fingers dug into the seat beside him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

You nodded.

“Kiss it better.”

Taehyung felt the air knock out of his lungs like a sucker punch.

This must have been how Adam felt when Eve offered him the forbidden fruit all those millennia ago.

He knew he shouldn’t—

but he could never deny you.

“Of course.”

You watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He looked like a man possessed and you reveled in the power of it.

It was for you.

He wanted you.

Your back arched up the slightest bit, beckoning to him—offering him a taste of what he was so desperately craving.

Touch me… please.

Large palms landed on either side of your thighs, bracing him on the seat beneath you. The tip of his nose teased the delicate line of your collar bone and he swore violently under his breath.

Then his lips were on your skin and your mind went blank.

“Taehyung—“ you moaned.

Hot open-mouthed kisses spread over the soft swell of your breast and you gasped— shuddering helplessly as a fierce wave of pleasure tore through you.

Sweet merciful heavens.

Over the years you imagined a moment like this thousands of times in your head—only to discover now that you had pitifully underestimated both his passion and his skill.

You had dreamed of a quiet fire—but he had unleashed an inferno.

The lewd sounds of his mouth nipping and sucking at your tender flesh filled the small space around you as he poured himself into each obscene contact—stopping briefly to flick his tongue over the taunt peak of your nipple. You trembled breathlessly at the sharp snap of sensation, letting your head fall back against the seat as you buried your fingers in his soft curls.

“T-Tae—”

Finally his mouth fastened over the tiny scratch, and the kiss deepened. You knew what he was doing, what the result of his efforts would be—

He was marking you.

And you wanted it.

Oh how you wanted it.

Suddenly the car took a sharp turn, causing Taehyung to lose his grip on the seat. His arms wrapped around your torso for balance, dragging you fully against him.

“Does it feel better, Angel?” he growled.

You nodded frantically and he nipped at the underside of your breast.

“Speak up.”

“Yes, Taehyung,” you whimpered, “it feels so much better.”

“Mmmm,” he hummed, brushing his mouth along the sensitive column of your neck. “Who knew you could be such a good girl?”

Then his hand came up to grip your chin, turning it so your lips were almost against his—

“Madame. We’ve arrived.”

The driver’s voice cut over your senses like a shard of ice.

Taehyung jerked backward and immediately buried his face in his hands.

Your fingers hastily yanked your dress up and you stumbled out of the car in a daze, letting your feet carry you forward until you collapsed on top of your bed.

Did we just...

You hadn’t even begun to collect your thoughts when your phone buzzed from inside your purse.

1 New Message from: Taehyung 🙄🥴🙈

I need to know you made it safely to your room.

You grinned.

Greedy boy.

Back in the limousine, the boy in question was nervously tapping the corner of his phone against his chin as he waited for your reply.

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Oh? But you saw me walk in… and I’m already in bed.

Taehyung growled in frustration.

She would be a tease.

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

I tend to worry. Put my mind at ease.

He shook his head.

I have officially gone insane.

The phone buzzed again.

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Well… We can’t have that can we…

Taehyung literally felt the whine tear out of him as he opened the picture.

Your gorgeous body (the body he’d had his hands and mouth on for one glorious minute) was nestled decadently atop a pile of fluffy blue blankets and wrapped in nothing but a tiny silk robe.

The neck gaped open just enough to show off the pretty red marks he left on the delectable curve of your breast.

He groaned, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

That's all I get after I made the pain go away? Good girls send real proof, Angel

The screen lit up again almost immediately.

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Guess I’m not such a good girl after all...

Jimin came tearing through the Kim Manor front gate at precisely 7 AM—only to find Jungkook camped out at the entrance with several outdoor space heaters and a giant mug of hot chocolate.

“He told you not to let me in, didn’t he?”

Jungkook took a long satisfying sip of his cocoa.

“I hope you don’t feel singled out, sir. I’m not allowed to let his mother in either.”

“I need to talk to him.”

“Of course, Mr. Park, let me just pull up his schedule—”

“I need to talk to him now.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Kim is booked solid for the morning.”

Jimin stomped his foot like a petulant child.

“I know he’s up there.”

Jungkook grinned.

“You’re welcome to climb the trellis and check. I promise not to stop you if you make it all the way up.”

“COME DOWN HERE AND FACE ME YOU COWARD!” Jimin shouted at the top of his lungs.

Jungkook took another long pull of his drink.

“Might I inquire as to the reason for your visit today, sir?”

“The reason for my visit,” Jimin yanked out his phone and angrily began typing into the search bar, “is that your boss paid ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS for my sister at a date auction last night and I want to know what the hell is going on between them!”

The article Jimin pulled up (DEVILISH KIM TAEHYUNG BUYS HIMSELF A $100,000 ANGEL) featured an image of the two of you entering the Black and White Ball. Your head was thrown back in laughter and Taehyung was grinning down at you as if you’d personally hung all the stars in the sky for him.

A genuine smile crept over Jungkook’s face as he studied the photograph.

“That’s quite a headline.” He handed Jimin’s phone back. “Have you asked your sister about it?”

“No, I swung by earlier, but she wasn’t home so—” His eyes widened. “Oh my—is she—”

Jimin suddenly took off running for the trellis, and Jungkook scrambled out of his chair to chase him.

“KIM TAEHYUNG IF MY SISTER IS IN THAT ROOM—”

He was already three feet off the ground when Jungkook yanked him back.

“I thought you said I could climb the trellis!”

“Yes,” Jungkook wheezed, “but I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” That trellis is a hundred years old! A few more feet and I’d be scraping you off the antique brickwork!”

Jimin scowled and crossed his arms.

“Are you by any chance open to bribes?”

“Normally yes, but Tae promised to double my Christmas bonus if I didn’t accept them today.”

Jimin continued to eye the trellis speculatively, clearly willing to take his chances. Jungkook sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Mr. Park, I promise you… He came home alone last night. In fact, they both returned earlier than usual because your sister had a 7 AM finance meeting.” He paused significantly to glance at his watch. “Which is probably where she is right now.”

“Oh… Well.”

Jungkook bit his lip to hold back a snort and Jimin’s eyes narrowed.

“He has to come down eventually.”

“One would think.”

The young Park heir glanced toward Taehyung’s window again just in time to see the man in question dart back behind the curtains.

"I KNOW YOU'RE AWAKE, KIM TAEHYUNG, YOU PHILANDERING SLEAZE BAG!"

Jimin made another jump for the trellis and this time Jungkook caught him in mid-air.

“Sir, I’m sure it was just the maid!”

“It’s not the maid! I’d know that raggedy mop of his anywhere!”

Jungkook was out of breath at this point. Park Jimin might be small, but he was fierce.

“Perhaps it’s best if you took a moment to collect yourself,” he grunted. “There’s a lovely new spa down the street and they sent Taehyung two free deluxe packages.”

Jimin stopped struggling.

“Oh?”

Five minutes later, Jungkook sighed deeply and fished his phone out of his back pocket.

“He’s gone, sir.”

“Excellent work, Jungkook. I never doubted you for a second.”

“However…”

“... However?”

“I had to give him your spa passes.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

“Are you headed for a gala or the guillotine?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes.

“I don’t pay extra for commentary.”

“It’s complimentary, sir.”

The Kim heir tugged absently at the material of his absurdly expensive evening wear.

Why do these events always have to be so uncomfortable?

“Seriously, Tae… you seem,” the young aide searched for the right words, “unusually tense.”

Taehyung’s mind flashed back to three nights ago when he had his mouth wrapped around your breast.

“Not at all,” he coughed, loosening the collar of his shirt.

Jungkook bit his lip.

“Is this about Ms. Park, sir?”

The cufflinks Taehyung was attempting to fasten suddenly went flying across the room and hit a lamp.

Both men winced.

“I think that was your grandmother’s.”

Taehyung sighed.

“I admit there have been… some developments.”

Jungkook nodded nonchalantly, trying to disguise the fact that he was internally frothing at the mouth for details.

“... Such as?”

Taehyung gulped.

“It started out rather innocently I suppose…” he cleared his throat, “but there may have been some suggestive photographs.”

“There may have been? Are you not sure?”

Taehyung colored guiltily.

“Well—”

“Do you need me to check for you, sir? I have an art history degree.”

“Absolutely not.”

Jungkook grinned.

“That’s what I thought.”

Taehyung yanked his tie out of the younger man’s hand.

“Things have… escalated a bit.”

“Escalated how?”

I licked her tit in the back of a limo.

“Physically.”

It was everything Jungkook could do to maintain a straight face.

“That’s… shocking.”

“Then why don’t you seem shocked?” Taehyung grumbled.

A small smile played across Jungkook’s lips as he pointedly ignored the elder man’s observation.

“So what are you going to do, sir?”

Taehyung was silent for a long moment.

“I honestly have no idea.”

Watching you walk toward him was an experience.

Taehyung wondered absently if this was how it would be from now on; if for the rest of his life just the sight of you would be enough to scatter his mind and his pulse and even the way he breathed.

Your dress tonight was deadly.

It was a decadent red satin halter that clung to every curve. The truly wicked detail, however, was a daring slit that ran the entire length of your leg.

Taehyung was certain he was going to trip over his own tongue at some point if he looked directly at you for too long.

Oh help.

Memories of your previous encounter flooded his senses. Every second you were getting closer and he didn’t know what to do—what to say.

So he didn’t say anything at all.

Not a word when you reached the bottom of the stairs. Nothing but silence as he opened the door of the limo for you. More silence and no eye contact as he settled into the seat across from yours—

And you tolerated that for about three minutes.

“I never thought I’d see the day when Kim Taehyung didn’t have a comment about something. Perhaps I should mark this down on my calendar.”

The words were lightly spoken, but you were shaking on the inside. The last time the two of you were alone together he had your dress around your waist and you were moaning his name. Now he wasn’t talking and you were torn between panic and irritation.

Taehyung, however, latched onto your passive barb like a lifeline.

“Is that a hint of sarcasm I hear from the benevolent Park Angel?” He grinned. “Surely not.”

“Red is not a particularly angelic color. Perhaps I’m feeling feisty today.”

Taehyung leaned back in his seat and indulged himself in a thorough examination of your outfit. The urge to run his hands over the satin-covered lines of your body was nearly unbearable. He curled his fingers into fists to keep them from doing just that.

She is definitely trying to kill me.

“Should I be worried?”

Now it was your turn to grin.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

The Governor’s Winter Wonderland Gala was by far the most extravagant event of the holiday season. Tickets cost a small fortune and sold out almost immediately.

But it was well worth the price of admission.

Thousands of lights sparkled overhead as you made your way through the great hall of Governor Kim’s mansion.

It was like stepping into a fairytale.

Taehyung couldn’t take his eyes off you. The sheer wonder in your expression was breathtaking.

You were breathtaking.

“Governor Kim, it is such an honor to finally meet you.”

The Governor was a handsome man in his early fifties with a smile that was every bit as lethal as it had been twenty-five years ago.

“The honor is all mine, Ms. Park. I trust my nephew is treating you well.”

Your eyes widened.

“N-nephew?”

Taehyung shrugged.

“I don’t really talk about it much.”

The Governor chuckled and you cleared your throat to cover your nervousness.

“Yes, he’s been a very capable escort.”

“Is that so?” Governor Kim smiled charmingly. “Well if it doesn’t work out, my son Seokjin is still single—”

“Thank you, Uncle. It was lovely to see you as always.”

You squeaked as Taehyung placed his hand firmly on the curve of your back and practically dragged you away.

The Governor just shook his head and laughed.

“Oh kid, you’ve got it bad.”

Everywhere you looked there was beauty.

Whoever planned the gala this year had truly gone above and beyond. Surrounded on all sides by glittering trees and snowy vignettes, it was easy to be swept away in the festive magic of the evening.

All in all (despite some initial awkwardness), you were having a fantastic time...

Until she showed up.

“Kim Taehyung! Is that you?”

Every single hair on your body stood on end, but before you could determine the source of the shrill squealing, you found yourself being nudged aside by a blinding golden gown and some very high heels.

“Aubrey,” Taehyung grunted as five-and-half feet of gorgeous wrapped herself around him like a clinging vine. “Long time no see.”

“Not since that vacation in Aspen,” she giggled. “We had quite a time, didn’t we Tae Tae!”

Suddenly you had the most unholy urge to slap the spray tan right off this woman.

Instead, you plastered on a vibrant smile and placed your hand on Taehyung’s sleeve.

“Um. Excuse me, Tae Tae, perhaps you could introduce us?”

Taehyung looked as if he’d just been served raw fire ants for dinner.

“Yes. Of course. This is—”

“Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine,” she interrupted with a smug little smirk. “Taehyung and I go way back.” Her expression grew just the slightest bit tighter. “And you are?”

“His date,” you deadpanned.

“Aubrey,” Taehyung cleared his throat, “I’d like you to meet Ms. Park she’s—”

“Oh my goodness! You’re Jimin’s little sister aren't you!” Aubrey slapped her hand over his chest and he winced. “That is so precious of you to take her around like this!”

Your eyebrows raised right up into your hairline and Taehyung groaned.

“Yes, he was kind enough to sign me out of the nursery for the evening.” You offered them both a painfully vacant nod. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I see one of my play-dates near the buffet.”

Then you turned on your heel and sauntered off without another word.

Taehyung moved to follow you, but Aubrey curled her fingers into the crook of his arm and pulled him back.

“Oh let her go, Tae. You and I have so much catching up to do.”

Taehyung pointedly removed her hand from his elbow.

“Some other time perhaps.”

Aubrey pouted prettily.

“You’re not running off after her are you? She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.”

Taehyung crossed his arms and fixed her with a knowing look.

“Funny... that’s not what you were implying a moment ago.”

“A moment ago I didn’t have you all to myself. Now I do.” She had the decency to blush. “Perhaps I got a bit jealous.”

“You don’t say.” His eyes continued to search the crowd for any sign of you.

“It seems I had good reason to be,” she murmured quietly.

“Aubrey... Listen I—”

She cut him off with a finger to his lips.

“Don’t bother Tae Tae. I’m petty, but I’ve never been pathetic.”

He grinned.

“Never.”

The lady sighed and gave him a heated once over.

“What a shame.”

Then she strolled off with a rueful smile.

“You know what I don’t understand?”

You turn to find Min Yoongi leaning casually against a nearby column. He looked absurdly handsome as always, but his grin was just the slightest bit mischievous.

“What don’t you understand, Mr. Min?”

The question was clearly a bait, but you were still fuming from your earlier encounter with Ms. St. Valentine and therefore desperately in need of a distraction.

Yoongi pushed off the column and lazily made his way toward you.

“I don’t understand how a man pays a hundred thousand dollars for an evening with the most beautiful woman in the city, and then leaves her all by herself.” He leaned forward with a playful grin. “Perhaps you could enlighten me?”

Oh he’s good.

You made a show of tapping your chin thoughtfully.

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that one.”

Yoongi sighed and shook his head.

“Couldn’t be me.”

You laughed then. He really was a delightful man. In fact, if you still had your heart, you might have considered letting him take a shot at it.

Alas.

You tilted your head speculatively.

Surely there was no need to brush away good company...

After all, no one else is interested in spending time with me.

“Since my escort is otherwise occupied, perhaps you could join me for dinner?”

Yoongi held out his hand.

“I’d be delighted.”

Taehyung wandered around the mansion for nearly forty-five minutes looking for his date.

Panic was just starting to build in his chest when he finally spotted you

—at his private dining table with Min Yoongi.

It was everything he could do not to storm over and yank the other man out of his seat by the lapels.

Alright, Angel. If this is the game you want to play… then let’s play.

Taehyung felt his anger rise with every step, but he ruthlessly suppressed any sign of it and instead adopted a charming smile.

“Min, I didn’t expect to find you here. What a… delightful surprise.”

Yoongi’s expression was just a shade too satisfied. Taehyung could already feel his blood pressure beginning to skyrocket.

“Yes, Ms. Park believed that you were otherwise occupied and invited me to share the meal with her.”

“I see,” Taehyung practically snarled. “However,” his gaze landed heavily on you, “since I paid for this table, I hope you won’t mind if I join you as well?”

You avoided looking at him up to this point, but now you were choking on your wine

“Easy there, Angel,” Taehyung murmured as he pulled up a seat extremely close to yours—so close that your thighs were nearly touching.

Oh boy.

Over the next several minutes Yoongi continued to flirt openly and you continued to smile prettily and pretend Taehyung wasn’t there (which naturally infuriated him).

You should have known he wouldn’t let you get away with such behavior so easily.

This was Kim Taehyung, after all, and if there was anything that could be counted on when it came to your shared history, it was that one (or both) of you was always ready to escalate.

You had just offered the young Min heir yet another flowery compliment when you felt Taehyung make his move.

Two warm fingers slid under the silken slit of your dress, coming to rest possessively over the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

You squeaked and nearly spat up your drink.

Taehyung leaned forward in fake concern, wrapping his arm around you as if to offer aid.

“Are you alright?”

His hand continued to move significantly beneath your gown, but his face was the picture of innocence.

You glared.

“Just fine, thank you.”

A slow grin crept across his features as he began to trace soft intimate patterns over your skin.

On the other side of the table, Yoongi tilted his head in genuine solicitude. “Are you sure?”

You nodded sharply.

Satisfied, he resumed speaking about whatever it was he’d been saying—though you couldn’t understand a word of it at this point because the torturous strokes Taehyung was leisurely drawing over your thighs were moving closer to your center with each passing second.

Yet you made no move to stop him.

You should have.

You should have slapped his touch away—rebuked him for his boldness—

But you didn’t.

So he just kept nodding and smiling while Yoongi spoke, even as his fingers teased you with the maddening persistence of a man who knew very well what he was doing.

You gasped aloud when he finally brushed the pad of his thumb over the thin cotton of your panties.

“T-Taehyung—”

“Hmm?” he turned to you, seemingly surprised by your attention (it was—after all—the first time you’d addressed him since the beginning of the meal).

“Could you pass me the salt,” you sputtered (hoping to cover the fact that you moaned his name involuntarily). Unfortunately, Taehyung seemed wholly aware of your ruse, offering you the salt shaker with a superior smirk.

You seriously considered stabbing him with a fork.

However, before you could carry out any bloodthirsty plans, he pressed his fingers directly over your clit and your eyes rolled back in your head

“Oh my g—” you bit your lip stubbornly, “this lamb is just so good.”

Sweet mother of macaroons, he is too skilled at this.

You shoveled another bite into your mouth to cover your whine as Taehyung began to rub tight little circles over your sweet spot.

Across the table, Yoongi nodded in blissful unawareness.

“Yes, I agree, the lamb is excellent—very tender.”

Taehyung took advantage of the momentary distraction to slip beneath the fabric of your undergarment.

Your fork clattered to your plate and your hand came up to cover your mouth as he began running his fingers up and down your soaked slit.

It was everything you could do to hold back your depraved whimpering.

“I can’t wait to taste it,” Taehyung replied, flicking your clit in a way that guaranteed he wasn’t referring to the lamb.

At this point Yoongi seemed to notice you were in some sort of distress. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and leaned forward.

“Ms. Park, are you well?”

Taehyung chose that moment to sink his finger into the welcoming heat of your pussy.

“Yes,” you almost sobbed, “I’m-I’m very well—thank you.”

“Excellent,” Yoongi smiled as he rose to his feet. “If you’re feeling up to it, perhaps you could favor me with a dance?”

Several attendees were already making their way to the center of the floor and the orchestra was beginning to play.

Your entire body, however, was vibrating like a plucked harp string and Taehyung was still brushing back and forth against your clit, driving you toward a release that promised to be explosive.

There was no way—simply no way—that you would be capable of hiding it.

“Yes! I would love to dance with you,” you squeaked, grabbing hold of Taehyung’s wrist frantically. The feel of him pulling out of your sopping core was nearly enough to have you coming right there.

Thankfully, Yoongi remained utterly oblivious to the debauchery unfolding beneath the table. He took your hand and helped you to your feet with an eager smile (and it was a good thing too because your legs were still shaking).

When the two of you reached the dance floor, you turned back for the briefest instant—

just long enough to meet Taehyung’s heated gaze as his lips closed over the finger he buried in your cunt.

Emotions were a funny thing.

They impacted your judgement, affected your body, altered your behavior…

And occasionally eroded your common sense.

Sitting alone in the corner of the Governor’s ballroom, Kim Taehyung found himself experiencing a full spectrum of emotional side-effects.

His hands clenched as he watched Min Yoongi spin you around the floor.

His heart pounded every time he caught a flash of your shapely leg peeking through the slit in your gown.

His blood boiled when you threw your head back and laughed at something the other man said.

It was difficult to pinpoint which emotion was to blame for each of these reactions. There were certainly a number of them boiling over in his subconscious.

Frustration—

I didn’t even want to talk to Aubrey! How are you acting like anything she said was my fault?!

Rage—

Why is challenging people to duels illegal? I would fight Min Yoongi at dawn. I would fight Min Yoongi now.

Jealousy—

You asked her to dance while my fingers were in her pussy. We are not the same.

But perhaps the most persistent—the most overwhelming— emotion twisting through him was longing.

You and Taehyung spent nearly four years apart, and he was so desperate to be near you—even then—that he resorted to childish pranks in order to remain a part of your life.

He hadn’t recognized his actions or desires for what they were. He hadn’t realized what you meant to him...

But now, after spending the last several days with your hand on his arm and your laughter in his ear, he could no longer imagine spending another moment without you.

Everything seemed to crystallize as he watched you laughing and dancing in the arms of another man.

Uncertainty became clear. Complications became simple.

And when he saw Min Yoongi’s hand slide dangerously close to the perfect swell of your backside—

Emotion became action.

“Mind if I cut in?”

It wasn’t a question really. Taehyung was already shouldering his rival out of the way and pulling you into his arms.

“Taehyung,” you hissed, shooting the bewildered Yoongi an apologetic look over his shoulder, “what are you doing? This is so rude—”

“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, sweeping you through the couples on the floor with practiced ease. “It is unpardonably rude to steal someone else’s date. He’s lucky all I did was steal you back.”

Your mouth dropped open.

“Oh? So you finally remembered that I was your date?”

Taehyung’s grip on the curve of your waist became a shade rougher as he pulled you through the next turn.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means—” you stepped forward vigorously, nearly smashing your body into his, “—that you spent forty-five minutes with Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine when you were supposed to be having dinner with me!”

Taehyung growled and yanked you flush against him.

“I spent forty-five minutes looking for you while you were giving away my table to Min Yoongi!”

The two of you sailed through the next several movements glaring at one another before you snapped again.

“None of this would have happened if you had just told Aubrey St. Spray Tan that you were with me—”

“I did!”

“Instead, you let her call me a baby!”

“What let? Aubrey is a grown woman!”

“But—”

“And—you stormed off before I could say anything, so how would you know what I let?”

“You didn’t come after me!”

“Yes actually I did—but she grabbed my arm!”

“Really? Well what else did she grab?”

Taehyung abruptly realized how silent everything around you had become.

People were staring—and not even discreetly— just full on staring with their mouths hanging open.

Well that’s great.

Taehyung’s hand closed around yours and you suddenly found yourself being marched across the dance floor at a breakneck pace.

“What are you doing?”

“Continuing this discussion in private.”

“We can’t just go somewhere private in the Governor’s mansion!” you sputtered, struggling to keep up with his larger strides.

“You mean in my uncle’s house? Yes—actually we can—and we will.”

Taehyung proved to be a man of his word, dragging you past two security guards and into the roped off section of the manor with nothing more than a nod.

The residential wing of the Governor’s home was beautifully decorated with traditional Korean artistic touches—all of which you were unable to appreciate while Taehyung was speed walking you through the halls.

After a surprising amount of turns and archways, he yanked open an ornate wooden door with the words Reflection Suite written on a plaque above it in beautiful calligraphy.

You almost giggled when you got a look inside.

On the surface it was a tastefully furnished guest room with a simple cherry wood desk and a cozy double bed set in an elegant matching frame.

However—

The ceiling and one full wall were nothing but massive mirrors.

Reflection suite indeed.

The door slammed shut and Taehyung rounded on you with a stormy expression—though you weren’t waiting on him to fire the first volley.

“This is definitely going to get us in trouble.”

“I told you, I can go wherever I want in this house. It’s fine.”

“Then why did you take us here?”

“Because you were shouting—”

“I was shouting?! You were shouting I just—”

Suddenly your back was against the wall and Taehyung’s mouth was on yours.

He hadn’t brought you here for this. When he grabbed your hand, he was only trying to get away from the crowds. He told himself that he needed privacy so you could talk—so he could clarify things.

But the minute the door closed and you flared up again in all your magnificent rage, he was lost.

He had to kiss you then.

You were so lovely. So fierce. So wildly irresistible and he was too utterly smitten to fight the need to be near you—to be with you in every way that he could—for a single second more.

The shock of Kim Taehyung pressing his lips to yours lasted about two full seconds—and then there was nothing but ravenous insatiable need.

Finally.

Everything was him.

Everything was this—this sweet indescribable ignition of a desire that spanned years. You moaned eagerly against his mouth in wanton delight. After a decade of sparks, you were more than ready to burn.

“Taehyung—”

His name poured out of you like a prayer. You needed him everywhere and miraculously he seemed to understand—

Not that he was prepared to be polite about it.

“Where’s that smart mouth now, Angel?” he growled, tangling his hands in your hair to expose the tender column of your throat. “Nothing to say?”

Your only answer was a desperate whine as he spread hot-open mouthed kisses down the soft skin of your neck all the way to your collarbone.

Now was not the time for patience. He would be tender with you later. You absolutely deserved soft sweet caresses and slow leisurely love making and he was absolutely going to give them to you—every day if you’d let him.

But not today.

The minute his mouth encountered the barrier of your dress, he gripped onto the sides and yanked it down to your waist.

“You knew just what you were doing in the back of that limo, you little brat,” he hissed, taking one swollen nipple into his mouth and tormenting it with his tongue.

“Tae-ahhh!” Your back arched involuntarily in ruthless pleasure.

“I spent hours—days even—wanting to get my hands on these perfect tits.” He licked the other nipple obscenely, squeezing the soft mound till it bulged through his fingers. “And you offered me the barest taste with that coy little grin, knowing it wouldn’t be enough—”

He reared back and landed a firm slap on both breasts and you screamed.

It was so so good.

“Look at them now,” he murmured, “so swollen and needy and mine.”

If any other man had said those words, you would have cut his heart out with a butter knife.

But you had always belonged to this man body and soul, and to hear him acknowledge it so primitively felt like the sweetest vindication.

“Yes!” you sobbed.

The affirmation only inflamed him further. He teased and fondled the tender flesh till you were shaking.

Your fingers curled into the soft waves of his hair as he indulged himself. He looked so ridiculously good sucking your nipple, moaning lewdly with his eyes pressed shut in cathartic bliss.

“This is all your fault, Angel,” he groaned. “You just don’t know how to behave.”

His hands gripped the curve of your backside, lifting you right off the floor and into his arms. Your mouths fused together heatedly as he carried you to the bed, and you giggled against him when his words finally processed.

“You’ve been saying that for years.”

“It’s been true for years,” he muttered, pulling one of your legs up around him so he could grind against your cunt while you kissed.

Your fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt, tearing them off when they didn’t unhook fast enough. You waited too long to be with him like this to care about anything other than the feel of his skin against your own.

“Impatient, are we?” he chuckled, bringing his lips around to nip at your ear.

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, yanking the ruined garment right off his shoulder just so you could sink your teeth into it.

Taehyung moaned loudly, snapping his hips against yours with an involuntary jerk.

“You really are such a brat,” he hissed, fisting his hands in the satin length of your skirt. “Let’s see how fierce you are with my tongue in your pussy—”

His words were so filthy and raw, yet they stoked a frenzied need in your belly like nothing you had ever encountered.

“This dress is evil,” he snarled, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before switching to a more destructive tactic. “It has tormented me all night and now it’s in my way.”

The stitching proved no match for his resolve, and—after a few vigorous tugs—he ripped it apart from the slit on up, leaving you covered in nothing but the thin cotton underwear he had breached earlier that evening.

After disposing of your shredded gown, Taehyung paused for a moment just to take in the sight of you.

“What a perfect little angel,” he taunted playfully, snapping the band of your lingerie against your hips with a cocky grin.

Then he brushed his nose right up against the sopping fabric and inhaled deeply. “You smell just like heaven,” he growled before licking you right through the cloth, “and you taste even better.”

The sensations twisting through your body were merciless. You needed more or you were going to shake apart.

“Taehyung please,” you whined, pressing against him shamelessly.

“Oh a please?” he chuckled, throwing your own words from the first night back at you. “Who knew you had manners?”

You would have screamed in frustration, but he cut you off with an open mouthed kiss right over the wettest part of your panties.

“Perhaps I can make a good girl of you yet,” he chuckled, as you opened yourself wider to encourage him.

You nodded frantically, letting out another moan when he yanked the flimsy little scrap of lace down your legs—smearing a line of arousal over your thighs.

“So messy,” he tsked, tapping his finger right above your knee where the naughty little streak ended. “What am I going to do with you?”

Then he pressed his tongue over the shiny trail of slick and licked it right off.

You gasped loudly and his lascivious smirk was almost beautiful enough to make up for all of the shameless teasing.

Almost.

"You want my mouth, pretty Angel?” he whispered, letting the words brush maddeningly against your folds. “You want me to feed on this sweet little cunt?”

Every cell in your body cried out for release. He already edged you under the table at dinner and now he was determined to unravel you entirely. You would say anything—do anything.

"Please—" you whispered.

"Please who?"

Normally you met his arrogance with a cutting riposte, but an entire evening of methodical torment had left you beyond desperate.

"Please Taehyung,” you begged needily.

He grinned.

“That’s right, Angel. Kim Taehyung. Not Min Yoongi or any other pathetic trust fund prick that’s panting for a taste of this pussy.” His eyes fastened on yours significantly. “You belong to me.”

Then his tongue licked a flat stripe over your glistening slit and you sagged onto the bed in relief—only to be thrown back into oblivion when his lips closed over your clit.

Your body arched involuntarily as a ruthless wave of pleasure tore through you. Your eyes and mouth flew open in a silent scream and it was in that moment you remembered exactly where you were.

Underneath a giant mirror.

The passionate woman staring down at you was nearly unrecognizable. Her body was littered with her lover’s marks. Her hands gripped feverishly into the sheets beneath her—-

And Kim Taehyung was kneeling between her thighs, suckling on her weeping cunt with obscene satisfaction.

It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen in your life.

Your hands reached down to tangle in his hair, using it for leverage as you ground against his face.

Then suddenly his grip on your legs tightened and his tongue plunged roughly into your trembling core.

“Tae—ahh oh my—I can’t—”

The sensation was so intense that your hips bucked violently. You could not keep still. You were charging towards an explosion and your body was shaking itself apart.

The noises tearing from you were incoherent. Everything around you focused in on the juncture of your thighs where Taehyung was licking inside of you again and again until—

You shattered.

And the force of it nearly bent your back in half.

Delirious sobs poured from your lips as he worked you through it, letting the obscene flood of your cum soak his face.

The sight of him slowly lapping at the release between your folds, was unspeakably erotic. He ran his hands in soothing circles over your skin while you twitched and fluttered back down from your high.

Then he was kissing you again.

It was softer this time, but you felt truly depraved—and instantly obsessed—with the taste of yourself in his mouth—on his skin.

You could barely understand this ravenous hunger. You’d just found relief, yet you were already reaching for more.

Your hands snaked down and wrapped around his still covered cock and he hissed in ragged pleasure.

“So eager,” he gasped, as you pushed him back against the headboard—but you didn’t have time to bother with his teasing.

You were gonna blow Kim Taehyung into space.

He bit his lip when you yanked down his pants and boxers together, freeing his arousal with stunning efficiency.

It was almost unfair to discover that his cock was every bit as beautiful as he was.

“Of course,” you muttered.

The sultry smirk he shot you in return had your cunt flooding all over again.

“You think Min Yoongi has a cock like mine?”

“I don’t think about Min Yoongi’s cock,” you retorted, wrapping your hand around his length, “you’ve always been the biggest dick I’ve ever met.”

“I knew you thought about my dick,” he groaned as you began to work up and down the swollen shaft.

After a moment, his hand slid over your chin to grip your hair, drawing you forward till your lips were almost touching.

“I wonder what this pretty mouth can do,” he whispered.

You gasped against him and he smiled.

“Do you know how often I pictured your lips around my cock, Angel?”

You mewled shamelessly and he growled, cupping your cheek as your hands continued to service him.

“Do you know how often I imagined this perfect throat stuffed full of my cum?”

His palm slid down to lightly grip the soft flesh of your neck and you shuddered against him with a needy whimper.

“I know you could suck me so good, Angel. I’ve wanted it for so so long...”

Your mouth actually watered with anticipation.

The desire to be good for him—to give him whatever he asked for—consumed you.

Taehyung let his head fall back against the headboard with a groan at the first brush of your lips along his shaft. His hips rutted involuntarily as your tongue wrapped around the tip and you hummed with pleasure at his enthusiastic response.

After a moment you slid him into the welcoming heat of your mouth, taking him in as far as you could in one stroke. His jaw dropped open and his entire body jerked forward.

“Yes, that’s it, Angel—feels so good.”

His praise was addictive.

You loved that you could bring him to this. You loved to see the haughty Kim Taehyung coming apart as you sucked him.

It made you feel beautiful—powerful even—and you reveled in every second of it.

Your eyes were starting to tear. His length began to throb and pulse against your tongue and you knew he was close—so close you could almost taste him—

Yet suddenly he was pulling you back and you whined pitifully at the loss.

Taehyung chuckled, dragging you toward him till your dripping core slid across his cock.

“I’m not coming before I get inside that pretty little pussy,” he swore, working your hips over his sex till it was drenched in arousal.

The crass words filled you with the fiercest, most incredible want and you clenched reflexively against him in response.

“Is that what you want?” Taehyung whispered as he bore you back into the mattress, pinning both your wrists above your head. “You want me to fill your empty little cunt?”

You did.

You wanted it so so bad.

“Please.”

Taehyung gently lowered himself closer to you, resting his forehead intimately against yours as he lined up his cock at your entrance.

“Are you sure, Angel? Because there’s no going back after this... If you give yourself to me, then you’re mine—and I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you.”

“Taehyung, you idiot,”—a tender smile spread over your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck—“... I’ve always been yours.”

He swore violently—letting the slight tremble in his voice betray just how deeply your words affected him.

Then his fingers tightened on the soft flesh of your hip and he filled you to the hilt with one delicious thrust.

There was a moment—the smallest space in time—where your eyes locked together and everything seemed to suspend; a strange perfect calm before a monumental storm.

Then your world caught fire.

Taehyung drove himself into you with passionate fury, letting years of denial fuel the insatiable rhythm of his strokes.

Every time he told himself no. Every time he held himself back—

Every bit of it burned away as you screamed his name.

The feel of him was indescribable.

You imagined it too many times to count, yet your dreams fell pitifully short of the visceral reality.

He was bloomin’ magnificent.

Your fingers clawed up and down his back, desperate to hold on to something while he pounded into your g-spot like an animal.

“This tiny cunt is the tightest thing I’ve ever had around my cock,” he gasped and you whined needily at his praise. “Like it was made for me—” his hand came up to grip your breast, “like you were made for me.”

“Yes—”

Taehyung’s need seemed to amplify with every whimper and moan that fell from your lips. The feelings you sparked in him were fierce and unapologetically primitive.

He would go to war for you—build a fortress for you—fight a dragon if one dared come close.

You were his.

And he felt like a savage every time you cried out for more.

Suddenly an unexpected movement in his periphery caught his attention.

He’d been so consumed with the extraordinary rush of claiming you that he’d forgotten—

This guest room was thirty-five percent mirrors.

And now… he couldn’t look away.

The sight of your bodies tangling together in headless bliss played out before him like a scene from his most debauched and forbidden fantasies. His reflection grinned back at him in fascinated ecstasy while his beloved nemesis lost herself in the pleasure of his cock.

Something dark and wild began to burn in his chest as he studied the lovers in the glass.

“Look at you, Angel,” he whispered softly, “you really are perfect.”

Then he pulled out of your core and you whined bitterly in protest, chasing his body to rid yourself of the sudden unacceptable emptiness.

“Still so needy,” he taunted, gripping your hips and flipping you on your stomach before you could even think to protest.

“I want you to watch that pretty angel in the mirror come on my cock,” he groaned, plunging back into you from behind.

The new angle was somehow impossibly deeper and your body shook as another wave of pleasure overtook it.

Your fingers clawed into the mattress for purchase as he pistoned into your trembling mound.

Only Kim Taehyung could rail you like a whore while he worshiped you like a queen.

He gave you a moment to adjust before drawing your body back against his chest. His arm wrapped over your stomach as he slowly eased your legs apart, unfolding the lewd tableau of your bodies joined together for the voyeuristic gaze of the glass.

“Look at yourself, Angel,” he growled, mesmerized by the way your breasts bounced with every thrust. “Look at how well you're taking me.”

Then his fingers slid down to rub your clit and you screamed.

“Tae! Ah-ahh!”

The pleasure building within you now was violent. You were coiling too tightly, too fast—

“That’s right Angel. Take it all.”

Your eyes locked with his in the mirror for the briefest instant.

And then you flew apart.

Taehyung threw his head back with a carnal moan as you clamped down around him. His body was hurtling toward its own release with reckless speed.

“I’m close,” he panted, “where can I come?”

“Come inside me please,” you begged, and Taehyung’s eyes widened in frenzied lust.

“That’s what you want? Huh?” his thrusts became rougher as he chased his relief, “You want me to fill this puffy little pussy with my cum?”

“Yes, I want it so bad—“ you sobbed.

“Sweet Angel,” he groaned, gripping at your breasts as he pulled you tighter against him.

Then he met your gaze in the mirror again.

“I want everything with you; a home—a family—your body in my arms every morning when I wake up—” his voice trembled, “I want it all.”

The raw vulnerability in his eyes nearly broke you.

“Tae,” you gasped softly, too overcome with joy to manage anything else.

His mouth pressed hungrily against the curve of your shoulder. You could feel his cock throbbing in your core as he bent you forward, pounding into your sex with exquisite precision.

"Stay with me, Angel,” he whispered. His thrusts became erratic as he neared his high. “I don’t want to live without you anymore.”

The glorious thrill of his words tore over your senses with euphoric brutality. Your walls tightened greedily around his cock and the taunt cord of pleasure finally snapped.

He came with a broken groan, flooding the welcoming heat of your womb with his release.

“KIM TAEHYUNG!”

The sound of his name being shouted by the absolute last person in the world whose voice he wanted to hear woke Taehyung from a dead sleep.

His eyes widened in panic as he began yanking pillows and covers from all over the bed in a frenzied attempt to hide—

The doors to his bedroom flew open with a resounding crash.

“Jimin,” he squeaked, trying to look as casual as possible next to a giant pile of bedding. “What uh—what brings you here at—” his eyes darted to the clock on the wall, “—7:30 in the morning?”

Then he frowned.

“And how the hell did you get past Jungkook?”

Jimin’s murderous expression broke momentarily to allow for a smug grin.

“Kendra.”

Kendra Jackson was Jimin’s executive aide. She was fierce, capable, intelligent—

And insanely gorgeous.

Taehyung groaned.

Poor Jungkookie never stood a chance.

To the surprise of absolutely no one, yet another newspaper landed on Taehyung’s lap.

KIM HEIR BRINGS NAUGHTY ANGEL HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

Underneath the headline was a picture of you and Taehyung (dressed in clothes you stole from Jin’s childhood bedroom) kissing passionately against the side entrance of the Governor’s mansion.

One of your legs was wrapped around his waist and he was clearly grabbing your ass.

“Ah… well you see the camera distorts everything from this angle—and-and the lighting is bad so it’s not really what it looks like—”

“Is that so? Cause it looks like you’ve got your tongue down my baby sister’s throat!”

“Okay—okay,” Taehyung massaged his forehead nervously, “so maybe it’s sort of what it looks like but—”

“I’ll kill you.”

“No wait—” he held up his hands to delay an already advancing Jimin.

“Why should I wait?!”

“Because—”

“—I trusted you with the most important person in the world to me—”

“The situation is just not that simple.”

“—and you grabbed her ass in public!”

“Admittedly not my finest hour.”

“So you tell me right now—”

“But you don’t understand it’s—”

“—Why the hell would I wait?!”

“BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH HER!”

For a moment there was absolute silence.

Then your head popped out from the massive pile of bedding.

“Really?”

Jimin’s mouth fell open.

Taehyung groaned again.

“As usual, your timing is impeccable.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment.

“Are you really in love with me?”

“Of course I’m in love with you! What part of I want you to have my children did you not understand?!”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Jimin choked.

“That’s not the same thing!”

“It is for me!”

A radiant smile lit up your face.

“I’m in love with you too.”

Taehyung’s expression softened.

“Angel I—”

Then you were kissing and Jimin swung around with a horrified shout.

“Oh! No no no—Come on!”

He stumbled out of the room, hands firmly clamped over his eyes.

“This is not over, Kim Taehyung!” the scandalized young Park heir howled in exasperation… but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Back in the bedroom, Taehyung shook his head at Jimin’s ridiculous caterwauling.

“No, it’s not over,” he laughed, pulling you deeper into the comfort of his arms. “It’s only just begun.”

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story.

This baby took FOR-EVER to write. I started it in November and literally worked on it a little every day.

If you enjoyed it— even just a tiny bit—please consider taking a moment to leave me some feedback. It is so incredibly uplifting and rewarding to hear reader thoughts and reactions to my work.

I promise to treasure every word like gold. It took a lot to bring this story to life. Your kind words would mean the world to me.

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liriostigre · 3 years

Note

hey! I wanted to ask what your favorite poetry books are? I have a few but I want to read new and interesting stuff, and I trust your taste :D

hiii ♡

tbh i only started reading poetry collections like,, last year. i'm subscribed to poetryfoundation's newsletter (poem of the day) so i usually just read random poems

anyway, i'm not sure my recs could be considered new (cause i'm gonna start with Mary Oliver ♡) but feel free to message me if you want to know the themes, style, feeling (vibes, if you will) or anything you want to know about these collections. for now, i'm linking my favorite poems in each collection, i hope this helps you choose! ♡

here you go:

Dream Work —Mary Oliver (“Wild Geese.” “Dogfish.”)

Red Bird —Mary Oliver (“Summer Morning.” “Love Sorrow.”)

Blue Horses —Mary Oliver (“To Be Human Is to Sing Your Own Song.” “Loneliness.” “Little Crazy Love Song.”)

The Wild Iris —Louise Glück (“Sunset.” “Retreating Light.”)

Haruko/Love Poems —June Jordan (“On a New Year’s Eve.” “Mendocino Memory.” “Toward a City That Sings.” *under the cut)

Extracting the Stone of Madness —Alejandra Pizarnik (“Primitive Eyes.” “Summer Goodbyes.” *under the cut)

Ariel —Sylvia Plath (“Tulips.” “The Rival.”)

Prelude to Bruise —Saeed Jones (“Postapocalyptic Heartbeat.” *under the cut)

Absolute Trust in the Goodness of the Earth —Alice Walker (“Coming Back from Seeing Your People.” *under the cut)

I Must Be Living Twice —Eileen Myles (“Edward the Confessor.” *under the cut)

Teaching My Mother How To Give Birth —Warsan Shire (“Conversations About Home (at the Deportation Centre.”)

The Black Unicorn —Audre Lorde (“Hanging Fire.” “Sister Outsider.”)

Bright Dead Things —Ada Limón (“The Riveter.” “Glow.”)

Night Sky With Exit Wounds —Ocean Vuong (“Thanksgiving 2006.” “Logophobia.”)

Postcolonial Love Poem —Natalie Diaz (“Manhattan Is a Lenape Word.”)

Crush —Richard Siken (“Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out.”)

Once —Alice Walker (“So We've Come at Last to Freud.”)

“Toward a City That Sings” by June Jordan

Into the topaz the crystalline signals of Manhattan the nightplane lowers my body scintillate with longing to lie positive beside the electric waters of your flesh and I will never tell you the meaning of this poem: Just say, ‘She wrote it and I recognize the reference.’ Please let it go at that. Although it is all the willingness you lend the world as when you picked it up the garbage scattering the cool formalities of Madison Avenue after midnight (where we walked for miles as though we knew the woods well enough to ignore the darkness) although it is all the willingness you lend the world that makes me want to clean up everything in sight (myself included)

for your possible discovery

“Primitive Eyes” by Alejandra Pizarnik

Where fear neither speaks in stories or poems, nor gives shape to terrors or triumphs.

My name, my pronoun — a grey void.

I’m familiar with the full range of fear. I know what it’s like to start singing and to set off slowly through the narrow mountain pass that leads back to the stranger in me, to my own emigrant.

I write to ward off fear and the clawing wind that lodges in my throat.

And in the morning, when you are afraid of finding yourself dead (of there being no more images): the silence of compression, the silence of existence itself. This is how the years fly by. This is how we lost that beautiful animal happiness.

“Summer Goodbyes” by Alejandra Pizarnik

The soft rumor of spreading weeds. The sound of things ruined by the wind. They come to me as if I were the heart of all that exists. I would like to be dead, and also to go inside another heart.

“Postapocalyptic Heartbeat” by Saeed Jones

I. Drugged, I dreamed you a plume of ash, great rush of wrecked air through the towns of my stupor. And when the ocean in your blood went toxic, I thought fire was what we needed: serrated light through the skin, grenade in the chest—pulled linchpin. I saw us breathing on the other side of after. But a blackout is not night; orange-bottled dreams are not sleep. II. I was a cross-legged boy in the third lifetime, empire of blocks in my lap while you walked through the door of your silence, hunting knife in one hand, flask in the other. I waited for you until I forgot to breathe, my want turning me colors only tongues of amaryllis could answer for. It owned me, that hunger, tendriled its way into my name for you. III. In a city made of rain each door, a silence; each lock, a mouth, I walked daily through the spit-slick streets, harbingers on my hands in henna: there will be no after Black-and-blue-garbed strangers, they called me Cassandra. (I had such a body then.) Umbrellas in hand, they listened while they unlistened. there will be no no. after

the world will end no.

you are the reason it no. ends

you no. IV. I didn’t exactly mean to survive myself. Half this life I’ve spent falling out of fourth-story windows. Pigeons for hair, wind for feet. Sometimes I sing “Stormy Weather” on the way down. Today, “Strange Fruit.” Each time, strangers find me drawing my own chalk outline on the sidewalk, cursing with a mouth full of iron, furious at my pulse. V. After ruin, after shards of glass like misplaced stars, after dredge, after the black bite of frost: you are the after, you are the first hour in a life without clocks; the name of whatever falls from the clouds now is you (it is not rain), a song in a dead language, an unlit earth, a coast broken— how was I to know every word was your name?

“Coming Back from Seeing Your People” by Alice Walker

Coming back From seeing your people You were So wonderfully Full Of yourself.

But now You have supped With vampires They have fed Feasted On you.

They arise Bright-eyed Fit.

You alone have lost Not only Your sleep But also Your glow The luster of Affection Heart welcome Your people Sent home With you.

Beloved You must learn To walk alone To hold The precious Silence To bring home And keep the precious Little That is left Of yourself.

“Edward the Confessor” by Eileen Myles

I have a confession to make I wish there were some role in society I could fulfill I could be a confessor I have a confession to make I have this way when I step into the bakery on 2nd Ave. of wanting to be the only really nice person in the store so the harried sales woman with several toned hair will like me. I do this in all kinds of stores, coffee shops xerox shops, everywhere I go. And invariably I leave my keys, xeroxing, my coffee from the last place I am being so nice. I try so hard to make a great impression on these neutral strangers right down to the perfect warm smile I get entirely lost and stagger back out onto the street, bereft of something major. It’s really leaning too hard on the everyday. My mother was the kind of woman who dragging us into stores always seemed to charm the pants off the cashier. She was such a great person, so human though at home she was such a bitch, I mean really distant. I imitate her and I don’t do it well. She didn’t leave her wallet or us in a store. I’m just a pale imitation it is simply not my style to open the hearts of strangers to my true personhood. I hope you accept this tiny confession of what I am currently going through. And if you are experiencing something of a similar nature tell someone, not me, but tell someone. It’s the new human program to be in. It would be nice for at least these final moments if we could sigh with the relief of being in the same program with all the other humans whispering in school. I can’t quite locate the terror, but I am trying to be my mother or Edward the Confessor smiling down on you with up-praying hands. I am looking down at the tips of my boots as I step across the balcony of the church excited to be allowed to say these things. Outside my church is a relationship. On 11th street this guy and this woman are selling the woman so they can get more dope. All their things are there, rags and loaves of bread and make-up. And there was— this was incredible. Two men lying by the door of the church giving each other blow-jobs. They were sort of street guys, one black one white. I said hey you can’t do that here. They jumped up, one spit come out of his mouth. If you don’t get out of here I’ll call the cops. Don’t call the cops we’ll go, we’ll leave. That was a shock. That was more than I expected to see in a day. Something about seeing the guy spit come out of his mouth. He didn’t have to do that. I guess I scared him. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was scared too.

#btw!!!! i'm sorry!!! SO SORRY it took me weeks to reply 🤕#hope you're having good days <3 #💌

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deepdarkdelights · 3 years

Text

Solar Eclipse (Hoseok x Reader)

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Word Count: 16.9k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Stalking, Obsession, Forced Relationships, Fear, Panic/Anxiety, Devious Intentions, Talks about Mental Health, Mentions of Suicide, Dub Con, Forced Implants, Death, The Afterlife, Heights, Jumping from Heights

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals.

Preview: His smile drifted away, it was like watching the moon slip over the sun into a solar eclipse. The Hoseok you were left with was one that had a cold, stricken expression that bled disbelief.

This look on his face, although more genuine than anything else you had seen, was capable of sending your entire body into a panicked frenzy. Something in the back of your mind was telling you, no, begging you to run. The instincts that had been fostered in you from generations before were telling you this man was dangerous, and you were better off fleeing than sticking around to see what would happen.

“I dare you, say that to me one more time baby and you won’t like what happens next.”

A/N: This was supposed to be 10k...how did we get here. This story was heavily inspired by Beautiful Accident and Wonderful Nightmare! Both amazing movies I recommend that never fail to get me in my feels. I hope you enjoy this wild ride! See you in the comments! 💜💜💜

Your hands were hurting again.

The light from your computer screen was blaringly bright, causing you to momentarily cease your endless scrolling and remove your glasses from the bridge of your nose. You pressed your cool fingers against the warm flesh of your eyelids and tilted your head back against your seat, giving yourself a moment to relax.

The once cacophonous tapping of another keyboard suddenly halted as your assistant leaned forward in her seat, sliding her laptop shut.

“You okay, boss?” She asked, her brows pinched together in concern. “Is it a migraine again?”

You exhaled deeply through your nose as you flexed your fingers in an attempt to dispel the ache from them. You were far too young to already be experiencing so many aches and pains.

“No, I’m just tired.” You admitted as you folded your glasses up and pushed them aside.

“That’s because you work too much, honestly do you ever sleep? When was the last time you went home?” She chuckled in amusement.

“Ha ha ha, very funny. I’ll have you know I’m faithful to my sleep number, I come home to him every night.”

“Him? You refer to your mattress as him? Somebody hasn’t gotten laid in a while.” She snorted.

“I could have you fired for that, that’s sexual harassment you know.” You shot back, amused yet annoyed she had hit a little too close to home.

“Please, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you fired me.” She laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Before you could shoot back your response, an abrupt knock on the door stopped the both of you in your tracks. Without saying anything, she rose from her seat and began to cross the room. Knowing she would be able to handle it for you, you reclined deeper into your office chair and slipped your phone out of your desk drawer to sort through your endless amount of notifications.

You didn’t look up as you heard the door click shut, two sets of footsteps approaching your mahogany desk.

You could hear somebody clear their throat, their breaths coming out rapidly as if they were anxious. “Y-your coffee, miss.”

Without looking up you merely held out your hand, the warm cup slotting itself into your waiting fingers. You mumbled out a rough thanks as you continued to scroll through your phone, rolling your eyes at the amount of missed calls you had from your mother who, despite knowing your work schedule, persisted in calling you during your office hours.

You could faintly hear your assistant walking the man to the door, whispering a soft, “Thank you, sweetie,” as the door clicked shut.

“Really?!” She hissed, once she was sure the man was gone. “You didn’t even look at him!”

“Who? The coffee boy? I didn’t think it mattered.” You said with a shrug, taking a sip from your coffee.

“That wasn’t a coffee boy! That was your intern, jackass!”

“He’s just an intern, Jenny, he won’t be here for long. None of them last around here anyways.”

Jenny sighed, flopping down into the seat across from you with a pout. “The poor thing was so nervous, you really should be nicer to him. He has such a sweet smile…”

“Oh no, don’t you start one of your schemes again. I don’t have time for men and the last thing I need is for you to start playing cupid. And didn’t I tell you to stop hiring people just because they're attractive?”

“Sweetie, I don’t know if you’re aware, but you're not as young as you think you are. When are you going to settle down, huh? Find a husband, have some cute kids for me to dote on.”

“Jesus, you’re starting to sound like my mother. I don’t have the time for marriage or for kids, not when I’m busy with this place.” You replied with a stiff tone, this was not the first time the two of you had this conversation.

“I’m just saying you’re hot, rich, and a CEO, you could literally have any man you want.” She pointed out, the tips of her fingers pressing together in the shape of an arrow.

“You literally just called me a Sugar Momma.”

“I mean, they do have websites if you're interested…”

“Okay, you win, I’m leaving early. I can’t deal with your obnoxious ass anymore.” You said, standing up so quickly your chair shot back and turned on its wheels.

“Jenny: 72, You: None.” Your assistant laughed, adding a point to her imaginary scoreboard.

“I was going to say call me if you need anything, but please don’t.” You chuckled, grabbing your blazer from the coat rack and sliding it around your shoulders before picking up your purse.

“Don’t worry boss, I’ll hold down the fort.” She said, giving you a quick salute as she stood and began to gather her things. “Don't let the door hit you on the ass on your way out.”

You pressed your lips together tightly in an attempt to hide the hint of a smile on your mouth as she exited your office. She was the only person you talked to like that, you were a rather antisocial boss. You tended to come off as cold and callous to your employees, but in reality you just really didn’t like talking to others when it wasn’t necessary. It had taken four years for you and Jenny to become as close as you did, in fact she was the only person you could truly call your friend.

You had grown up in an isolated world, one filled with tutors and home schooling as you were groomed to take over one of the branches of your family's business. You had siblings, but you rarely ever saw them. They too were consumed by their work and their families, in fact you were the youngest of them and couldn’t remember a time where all of you lived together in one household. There were four of you in total, you only saw each other at holidays and your parents annual Christmas gala. You were by no means close.

You had grown comfortable being alone and frigid. It was safe and it was efficient.

Your entire life had been one of isolation, the only amount of warmth bleeding into the bleak monotone schemes of your world was Jenny. And the amount you had let in was minimal.

It was better being alone, you told yourself.

You adjusted your purse on your shoulder as your office door swung shut behind you. The building was still fairly active, everyone was in a rush to complete their work before the sun completely dipped below the horizon. That was something you enjoyed about your building. The walls were littered with floor to ceiling windows allowing the ochre tones of sunlight to bleed into the bright white and concrete interior, soft dappled light dancing over hard edges.

You paused for a moment by the windows, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt the warmth of the sun caress your face, its fleeting light still permeable through your closed eyelids creating a golden halo in your vision. You gave yourself two breaths worth of silence and stillness before your eyes snapped open once more and you hastily made your way to the elevator that would send you to your floor of the parking garage.

You waited patiently for the elevator, one of your legs extended in front of you as you rolled your foot from side to side on the precarious talon of your red bottom heels. Once you heard the doors sliding open and the familiar ding of the elevator you raised your chin slowly, your eyes half lidded in boredom as you met the expressions of your employees. There were two of them inside the metal contraption, their eyes wide in alarm at the sight of you. You tilted your head slightly to the side, and like you had cracked a whip they scuttled out of the elevator and hurried past you without a word.

You huffed in annoyance to yourself as you headed inside, you had no idea what their problem was and you pondered if there was any reason to write them up for their bizarre behavior. Perhaps not.

The elevator hummed as it steadily dropped floors, the soft music effectively worsening your mood. You hated elevator music.

As soon as the doors slid open you jetted out of them, your heels tapping noisily in the quiet garage. You slid your bag from your shoulder and busied yourself by trying to find your keys. You hissed to yourself as you tripped and almost went flying, multitasking and heels did not go together. You stopped for a moment, opening your bag wider as you tried to find the little ring of keys buried in the depths of your purse.

The second your fingers brushed the cool metal you released an annoyed breath, throwing your purse back over your shoulder as you flicked through your key ring, grasping the fob that went to your car.

Despite having what you had previously been looking for, you did not move. Instead, you looked around warily, pivoting on your heels as you scanned the area around you.

You could have sworn you heard footsteps.

You waited silently for a few more moments, listening for signs that another person was there with you.

You heard no other breaths, nor the sounds of approaching or retreating footsteps.

You weren’t going to wait around any longer just to find out you were wrong.

You swiftly made your way to your VIP parking spot, unlocked the doors, and threw yourself into the car while making sure to lock the doors as soon as you were seated.

Your mother had begged you for months to get a bodyguard. You were a young woman with lots of money and the heir to a massive enterprise. You should not be walking around as if you were a normal person. It was only now that you were beginning to think that your mother was right.

Not wanting to dwell on dark thoughts any longer, you pushed your key into the ignition, and peeled out of the parking garage a little faster than normal.

As your anxiety slowly drained from your body, you began to feel the effects of lack of sleep. Jenny was not wrong, you were considering the fact that maybe you had a touch of insomnia. Either that or you were simply a workaholic. Honestly, it could be both.

You switched the radio on, picking a classic rock station and dialing the volume up to the point you could feel your leather seats vibrating beneath you with each clash of the drums emanating from the speakers.

But even that was just barely doing its job. Your eyes were still stinging like they had been moments before at your desk. You were undeniably as exhausted as you were a safety hazard. You clenched the steering wheel harder, the flesh of your skin pulling tightly over your knuckles as you attempted to stay awake. It wasn’t that far of a ride, you could make it home.

But that thought didn’t stop your eyelids from drooping shut, it was nearly impossible to keep them open, they were so heavy you were struggling to reopen them every time you blinked.

Your eyes stayed closed much longer now than they had before, and upon opening them again a scream of shock bubbled up your throat.

A flash of black fur shot across your narrow vision as you frantically spun the steering wheel and slammed on your breaks. A band of horns beeped behind and beside you as you swerved dramatically into the next lane.

Your car had been mere inches from swerving right in front of an eighteen wheeler.

Your hand fluttered frantically against your chest, your heart pounding back against it in shock.

You had almost died.

You gathered yourself up before stomping down on the accelerator and speeding away, dodging the massive vehicle you had almost hit in the opposite lane. The shock of adrenaline you were experiencing from that frightening event was more than enough to keep you awake now. You only had one goal in mind and that was to make it home in one piece.

The minute you slid back into your regular parking spot you allowed yourself to slump back into the driver's seat, blinking wildly as you recalled the sight of the headlights and the cacophony of car horns from moments prior. You really need to get your shit together.

~~~~~~~

By the time you made it up to your apartment the exhaustion had returned full force. You toed off your shoes tiredly, stumbling over them with an annoyed grunt as you threw your purse down to the floor. You could really do without your sudden lack of coordination.

Far too tired to even care, you immediately began stripping your clothes off at the front door. You carelessly threw your blazer aside and shimmied off your skirt as you began to walk, leaving a trail of clothes behind you as you headed for your bedroom. The housekeeper would deal with it in the morning anyways, it didn’t matter where they ended up.

Your pajamas from the previous night were waiting for you at the foot of your bed, folded up into a neat little pile contrasting greatly from your current care for your clothing. You happily sighed as you pulled the creamy, cashmere sweater over your head and stepped into a pair of silk sleep shorts. This was what you had been waiting for all day.

That, and the bottle of Cheval Blanc tucked away in your liquor cabinet.

You ran your fingers through your hair tiredly as you made your way to the kitchen, the sound of your bare feet patting against the floor echoed down the long, empty hallway.

You wasted no time, eagerly pulling open your cabinet and retrieving the expensive bottle of wine along with a crystal glass. You eased the cork free from the bottle, allowing it to roll over your granite counter as you poured the wine into your glass, the liquor bubbling as you filled it to the very top. You were a guilty self medicator, that was for damn sure.

You hurried back into your living room, wine glass in one hand and a small tray of macarons in the other. There was one thing you were certain of, you were definitely going to drink your fatigue away and indulge in your favorite cookies until you passed out on your couch. You deserved it, after all you were a CEO, an overworked one at that.

So, there you sat, taking languid sips from your glass and delicate bites from your cookies as you began to catch up on a show you hadn’t had the time to watch in weeks. It was incredibly relaxing, the soft hum of the TV, the feeling of your favorite blanket wrapped around your bare legs, and the soft tapping of rain against your windows. You were set on not moving for the rest of the night. That was of course, until you had to pee.

You groaned in frustration at the thought of having to move, but the call of nature was much stronger than your will to remain sedentary. You leaned forward, setting your food and drink on the coffee table before you violently kicked your legs, fighting your blanket as you attempted to untangle yourself from it.

The second your toes touched the lush carpet beneath you, a shock of lightning suddenly splintered it’s way through the sky, shards of light refracting through your windows and lighting up the dim room. The soft rumble of thunder followed soon after.

You froze at the sight, the light rain still tapped against your windows, a dull contrast to the sudden shock of light you had witnessed.

But, what was even more unexpected, was the sight of dark fur and glowing jade eyes staring back at you. There was a cat sitting on your balcony. That should have been impossible, there was no possible way that cat could have made its way there, your building was pet free.

The sight of its slick coat of black fur tugged at your heart strings. He must be so cold, stuck out in the rain like that. In fact, he looked almost exactly like your childhood cat you had loved to dearly growing up. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to let him in, let him get dry and warm and fill his belly.

With a new goal in mind you carefully made your way to your sliding glass door, not wanting to spook him too badly lest he jump. The drop would not be a survivable one.

Despite your valiant efforts, the minute the door clicked and slid open he jumped up onto the fencing and rails that surrounded your balcony.

“Hey, no, no, no, just stay right there, kitty.” You cooed gently, taking slow and careful steps in his direction.

The cat fixed you with a penetrating gaze, his bright jade eyes trained on you, watching every step you made as his tail flicked from side to side behind him.

“That’s a good boy, just stay right there.” You hummed, your hands held up in a show of no malintent as you carefully approached him. “Come on, I just want to help you.”

Just as you were within grabbing reach, your fingers mere inches from touching his silken fur, he lept away, settling on the ledge against the building. He was dangerously close to falling off, the distance from the ledge to the ground far enough to make your toes and fingers tingle.

“Fuck.” You hissed.

The cat remained there, his gaze still trained on you. Those bright eyes seemed to be beckoning for you to come and join him, to meet him up on the ledge.

You quickly shook out your hands and feet as you stared back, your vision tunneling in on him. You could feel the cold air nipping at your bare flesh, goosebumps raising on the skin of your thighs. You could do it.

You wiped your palms against the fabric of your shorts before grasping the metal railing and carefully lowering yourself over to the other side. You could feel the wind stronger now as it swirled around you, a flash of light overtaking the sky once more as a steady rumble of thunder bounced off of the surrounding buildings.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You mumbled to yourself, taking in a sharp breath through your nose as you attempted to calm yourself. Just don’t look down, for the love of all that is holy do not look down.

You steadily rose up on to your toes, shimming your way over as you held on tightly to the railing. The sliver of stone beneath your toes was slick from rainfall, as was the metal of the railing beneath your tense fingers. The closer you got to the cat, the further away it seemed to be, either that was the truth or the reality of how high up you were was messing with your head.

The thought you had from earlier suddenly came rushing back to you, the drop wouldn’t be survivable. What a sobering thought.

You had come to a point now where you wouldn’t be able to hold onto the railing anymore, not if you needed to be able to reach the cat. So, with a shaky breath you released your grip from the railing one hand at a time and quickly latched onto the stone architecture surrounding the windows. The only thing keeping you from falling was the tiny inches of stone beneath your arched feet, and the architecture you were desperately clinging to.

You slowly turned your head, your gaze meeting the cat’s once more. It’s eyes were almost mesmerizing, there was something about it that was telling you that you needed to get him, that you just needed to pick him up and stay with him. You had no choice but to retrieve him, you felt like you would die if you had to leave him all alone on this ledge. His eyes were drawing you in, causing you to spiral downwards into their hypnotic depths. You needed him.

He was not moving anymore, he was settled down on his back legs, his tail flicking out dangerously over the edge of the building. You were certain that you could reach him if you tried.

You slowly lowered yourself into a crouch, releasing your one hand from the side of the building as you reached out, the other hand still holding onto the stone of the window. You leaned forward as calmly as you could, your arm burning from the stretch as you slid over slightly to grab the cat.

This time the cat did not move away, it remained still, waiting for your touch.

Both of your arms were completely spread out, your fingers just barely holding onto the building as you finally made it within grabbing distance. And then, it all fell apart.

As soon as your fingers brushed his midnight fur, he jerked away from your touch causing your feet to slip out from underneath you, and your weak hold to completely detach from the wall.

And then you were falling.

A violent scream ripped its way free from your throat as you went airborne, the last thing you could see was the penetrating emerald glare of the midnight black cat as you plummeted towards the ground.

No one would know that you had never intended to end your life when you stepped out onto that ledge.

Unwillingly, you had.

~~~~~~~

You never felt the impact of the ground, and when you opened your eyes you did not find your body mangled or feel any pain. In fact you were no longer even in the city.

You were already standing, and you were all alone. You turned frantically, spinning as you tried to find out where you were. There was nothing all around you, just cloudy skies, stretching fields of tall grass, old dilapidated fences, and a dusty road of dirt and rocks beneath your feet.

And then of course, there was the bus stop sign beside you.

You approached the sign in curiosity. The closer you got the more you noticed how strange everything was. Despite there being stones beneath your feet you didn’t feel pain, and the environment wasn’t cold or hot, it was just neutral. And, it was extremely silent. Not a gust of wind blew, no crickets hummed, and there wasn’t a single chirp from a songbird. There was nothing.

You leaned your upper body forward, looking from side to side for any signs of life. Both ways you could barely see anything, the field seemed to disappear into thick clouds of fog that were impermeable to your sight.

You decided in that moment you were better off looking for signs of life than you were waiting for them to come find you. But, to your surprise, the second your foot touched down onto the dirt road a bus came rumbling down the road and screeched to a stop in front of you.

The doors slid open and light flooded the space around you. You squinted as your eyes adjusted to the exposure, your hand creating a visor on your forehead.

“You getting on or what?” A voice called from inside the bus.

“Me?” You asked pointing to yourself.

“Of course you, does it look like I’m talking to anyone else?” The voice huffed in annoyance. “I’m already running late. I'd prefer if you didn’t hold us up any longer.”

“Running late?” You whispered to yourself. “And where will you be taking me?”

There was silence for a moment and then suddenly a raucous laughter that made you jump. “Where am I taking you?! That’s a good one. Come on, let's go.”

You blinked slowly in irritation, the last thing you needed was to be laughed at and dismissed like a child when you had serious questions that you needed answered.

“Come on newbie! Today!” He yelled, causing you to jump in fright before scurrying onto the bus.

Upon entering you were met face to face with the bus driver. He had fair skin and pitch black hair with an amused, gummy smile on his face. Apparently, he thought you were hilarious. He said nothing to you this time, he just merely jerked his head in the direction behind him, signaling for you to find a seat.

Once you turned to face the passengers of the bus you realized it was far longer than it appeared from the outside, in fact it looked like it stretched farther beyond what you could see with copious amounts of passengers.

The passengers themselves were of all sizes, races, and ages. You could see mothers holding infants and elderly couples cuddled up to one another. Some people seemed to know one another, others looked sad and lonely like the little boy a few seats back.

You were incredibly confused.

Unsure as to where you should sit, you finally decided on sitting next to the little boy.

The second you sat down, you felt his gaze train on you and his little body shift closer to you.

“Hi,” He whispered, his fingers curling around the fabric of your cashmere sweater and tugging, “My name is Minho.”

You have him a soft smile in return with a gentle whisper of your name.

“Where’s your mommy, Minho?” You asked, curious as to why this little boy was all alone.

“I’m going to meet her now.” He replied, with an excited smile, his legs kicking out energetically before he suddenly calmed down. “I wish daddy came with me.”

“Why didn’t your daddy come with you?” You asked, your eyebrows pinching together in confusion.

“He said I had to go alone, he can’t come with me for a while. He said I’ll be happy with mommy, that I’ll feel better with her.” He said sadly, his lower lip pouting as he rubbed at his teary eyes.

“You’ll feel better?”

“Mhm, I was sick for a long time. Daddy said it was time for me to see Mommy, he told me it was okay to go to sleep.”

Oh, oh no. Everything was suddenly starting to make sense. You quickly looked over your shoulder and caught sight of the elderly couple you had seen earlier.

“Hey! You two! What were you doing before you got here?!”

The older man looked up at you with a kind smile as he continued to rub his wife’s shoulder. “We were driving down to visit our son, he was never too good about coming up to see us. Some bad weather hit, we couldn’t see out of the windshield very well. Next thing you know we’re rolling over the guard rail and down the side of the hill!”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

“You! Where were you?!” You yelled at the woman seated across from you.

“Hm? I went in for surgery, what’s it to you?” She asked with an annoyed grimace on her face.

“What’s it to me?!” You echoed with a hysterical laugh. You were fucking dead that’s what it was! All of you were!

Your thoughts were racing a hundred miles a minute as you tried to gather yourself, your heart beating frantically as a sick feeling settled in your stomach. You needed to get off the bus, you needed to get far away from all of these people.

Without thinking you lurched to your feet and gripped the cord above your window, yanking it harshly to signal the bus to stop.

The bus halted immediately, sending you stumbling forward into the back of the driver’s seat. The bus driver met your panicked face through the reflection of the mirror, a curious light to his pitch black irises.

“So, we’ve got a challenger? I knew you’d be a stubborn one.” He sighed, hitting the button that sent the doors swishing open. “The guy in charge is out there, you can voice your complaints to him.”

You were far too shocked to vocalize anything, your feet just blindly leading you to the doors. You stopped for a moment, looking over your shoulder to get one quick look at Minho. His little legs were still kicking out in front of him.

“Bye miss!” He called with a little wave and a smile, spurring you off the bus with a quick wave in his direction.

Upon stepping foot off of the bus, you were faced with a dimly lit four way intersection that looked like it had been abandoned for years. You quickly headed towards the center of the road as you caught sight of a tall man waiting for you.

His face was relaxed, a neutral expression taking over his features. He was dressed fairly well for a man standing in the middle of nowhere. You took notice of his crisp three piece suit and the high shine of his shoes. He was obviously someone who was important, if the bus driver had indicated anything by his statements.

You didn’t waste any time to hurl your questions at him. “I’m dead aren’t I?! Who are you?! What is this place?!”

“Relax.” He commanded, his voice immediately sending a wave of calmness crashing down over you.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, before reopening them and waiting in silence for his response.

“My name is Namjoon, this is the crossroads.” He said, gesturing to the four intersecting roads surrounding you.

“That is Life,” He said, pointing to the road behind you, “That is Punishment,” the road to his right, “That is Reward,” the road behind him, “And that is Retrial.” The road to his left.

“Right, that’s fantastic, how do I go back down that road.” You blurted out, pointing to the road behind you.

“Normally, you don’t. But luckily for you, or not so luckily, there was an error made.”

“An error?” You asked.

“Yes, one of our reapers made a mistake. You aren’t scheduled for processing for quite some time, someone by the same name, sixty years of age, was scheduled for processing today.”

A reaper? What reaper? You hadn’t exactly seen the classic skeletal face cloaked all in black with a scythe in hand had you? Your face screwed up in irritation as you flicked backwards through your memories from earlier that day, trying to remember if you had seen anything that remotely resembled a reaper.

And then it hit you.

“That fucking cat!” You screeched, spinning around as you dramatically yelled into the void around you.

Namjoon winced his posture slightly wilting at your realization. “Yes, that was one of our newer reapers, Taehyung.”

“What kind of operation are you running here? Do I look like I’m sixty years old to you?” You yelled, the panic quelling up in your chest. “You’re going to fix this aren’t you?!”

“Of course! I take my job very seriously!” He shot back. “The only issue is, I can’t send you back to your life just yet.”

“And why not?!”

“Time is a very sensitive and precious thing, as a woman of business I am sure you understand. The other woman still needs to pass and be processed, the events that lead to her demise must be tailored perfectly and set up with the correct timing. Only then can you return, once she is passed with the correct timing the two of you will switch. You can live again and she can be sent down the proper road.”

“And how long will that take?”

“A few weeks.” He replied vaguely, his body tensed as he waited for your response.

“Weeks?! And what will I do during that time? Do you expect me to follow you around everywhere?”

“Thankfully, no. In the time being, I will have to put you somewhere else, some other place and time. Are you willing to do that?”

“Yes, I’m more than willing. As long as I get my old life back, I don’t care what it takes. Just make it happen.”

“You will, in due time. But listen to me very carefully, you have to follow every aspect of this other life perfectly. You cannot act out of character, you have to act exactly as everyone expects you to. You cannot have contact with anyone from your previous life as well. Understand? If you can’t do that, then you can’t go back.”

You swallowed harshly, a sense of anxiety creeping up inside of you. You had no choice but to accept, your life and had been wrongfully ended far too soon. If that meant doing whatever Namjoon asked of you, you would do it.

You gave him a swift nod, your hand clenching up into fists.

“Perfect, I’ll have Taehyung escort you down that way.” Namjoon replied, pointing down at the road to his left, Retrial.

Upon hearing his name, Taehyung appeared. He was tall, with honey skin, midnight black curly hair, and bright green eyes.

The fucking cat.

Taehyung met you with a sheepish grin and an embarrassed wave, hesitantly coming to your side. He looked nothing like the reaper you had been anticipating. If anything he was a sad excuse for a reaper with the bashful attitude he was presenting you with.

“Did you really have to use the appearance of my childhood pet to kill me?” You asked, your voice dripping with venom as you crossed your arms over your chest, your bare foot tapping in annoyance. You weren’t exactly the picture of intimidation you normally were.

“I’m sorry.” He replied softly, bowing his head forward in an apologetic manner still refusing to meet your burning gaze.

“I’ll be checking in with you every now and then, please, try to play along with this life.” Namjoon begged, a serious expression evident on his face. Not only did he appear serious, but you could tell he was also stressed. The fuck up Taehyung had made was evidently a big one.

“I’ll try my best.” You replied, you knew you had to, or else there was no going back.

Namjoon gave Taehyung a quick nod, and with that gesture Taehyung grabbed hold of your hand and began to lead you down Retrial. From your perspective, each road was identical, this one too was dusty and littered with stones leading into a seemingly never ending fog.

The reaper beside you was quiet, his gaze pinned ahead as he focused on his task, leading you down the path of Retrial.

If only you had known how much of a trial this life truly would be.

~~~~~~~

You were boiling hot.

You could feel a mattress beneath your back, one that was far softer than you normally liked. Your body was swaddled with thick blankets and sheets that were sticking to your sweaty skin. You groaned in irritation at the feeling and attempted to bat away the blanket and turn onto your side.

A sudden grunt behind you had your heart stuttering to a stop, your entire body frozen as you came to the realization that that was not a blanket you had just smacked, but somebody's arm wrapped around your waist.

Slowly, you turned onto your side to see who was in your bed. The moment you flipped your body over you were met with deep brown eyes that were just barely open and the sight of a lazy smile as your body was suddenly dragged forward and pressed tightly against the strangers.

A sharp scream bubbled up past your lips as you threw yourself backwards, smacking the man’s hand away from your body as you fumbled out of the bed. In your haste your foot was caught in the mess of blankets, sending you tumbling backwards off of the bed, spurring another cry from your mouth.

“Baby?” A voice called, it was raspy and deep from just waking and wrought with concern.

You quickly yanked the sheets off of your sprawled out form and ushered yourself to stand on shaky legs. The man in the bed was propped up on one elbow, the sheet slipping down off of his chest to settle and pool at his waist. He was absolutely shirtless, revealing a stretch of honey skin and a toned abdomen.

Holy shit, what the fuck was going on?

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He asked you again, this time he appeared to be more alert, all signs of sleepiness dissipating from his body.

Worried from your lack of response, he rushed to stand up, the blankets falling away to reveal he was clad in boxers.

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck? It had to be illegal to have thighs like that, right?

“Stay right there!” You yelled, throwing your hand up in fear as he ignored your command and quickly began to approach you. The closer he got the more steps you took backwards, tripping over stray clothes on the floor until the wall at your back stopped you from retreating any further.

The man, clearly ignoring your pleas to be left alone, walked right up to you. He was so close that his bare chest was pressed up against you effectively sandwiching you between him and the wall as heat flooded your cheeks. His hands fluttered around you worriedly, checking you for any signs of injury before he rested his hand on your forehead checking for a temperature.

“Are you sick, hunny? You’re acting...off?” He asked, petting your hair in anxiety as he tried to meet your gaze.

“Don’t touch me.” You finally said, brushing his hands off of you once more as you attempted to slip away from him.

“Why are you acting like this?” He asked, obviously confused before a sudden smile overtook his features. He had a sweet smile, one that made his entire face light up in joy. “It reminds me how you used to act around me all those years ago. Are you trying to get me going this early? We really shouldn’t, you know, I have to be at work soon.”

Holy fuck, what kind of person are you now?

The man in front of you pulled you out of your stupor at the feeling of his hand on your jaw as he leaned down to your height.

Realizing what his intentions were, you let out another scream of fright and shoved him away, darting for the bedroom door. As soon as your hand gripped the doorknob you ripped the door open and slammed it shut behind you.

You leaned your head back against the wall as you rested, you hand over your heart, taking shallow breaths as you attempted to collect yourself.

That didn’t exactly go as planned.

With your eyes closed you didn’t see the incoming form running up to you until it collided with your legs, winding around you tightly in excitement.

“Mommy!” A little voice cried.

Your eyes snapped open in surprise as you looked down at the little child wrapped around your legs. Despite his small and non threatening form, you couldn’t stop the scream of fright that escaped you as you unlatched him from your legs and raced to the first open door you saw, yanking it closed behind you and twisting the lock shut.

You were in the bathroom. Finally, a place where you could gather yourself. You stood at the sink, resting your forearms on the counter and your head in your hands as you breathed in sharply through your nose. You needed to get your shit together and stop panicking.

You couldn’t help but feel cheated, panicked, and pissed all at once. Not only had you died, made a deal with some crossroads entity, but now the life you had been plopped in for the time being was the complete opposite of your previous one and you had not a single clue as to how to navigate it.

You let out a few more huffs before standing back up and raking your fingers through your hair. A sudden sparkle of light caught your attention, causing you to pull your left hand free from your hair. There was an engagement ring and a wedding band on your left ring finger. You hissed at the sight of it, your entire body shuddering.

You were married and a mother.

“Are you fucking serious, Namjoon?!” You whispered to yourself in the bathroom, knocking your head back against the wall three times in frustration. Jenny would be having a field day if she knew about this.

Jenny.

You wondered what her reaction was, when she heard that you had flung yourself from your balcony. You wondered if she blamed herself for sending you home early even though it wasn’t her fault. You wished you could tell her you hadn’t done that to yourself, that it wasn’t her fault. You just hoped that she was okay and that she wasn’t crying over you.

You could get through this, you had no other choice. It was time to get your shit together.

You straightened your spine and shook out your hands with a deep breath before you unlocked the door and swung it open. Standing outside the door was your “son.” He was practically the spitting image of your “husband” who had yet to leave the bedroom. He was staring up at you, with big brown eyes, as he raised his arms up and clenched his hands in a grabbing motion.

You knew what that meant. You plastered on a forced smile as you bent down and picked up the small boy before settling him on your hip. He easily nestled his head into the crook of your neck, his eyes fluttering shut as he basked in your warmth.

At least he was cute, you could manage that.

You curled your arm securely around his back as you walked into the kitchen, your bare feet padded dully against the cool tile of the floor.

“Are you hungry?” You softly asked the little boy. You could feel him nod into your shoulder slowly, his fingers curling around the collar of your sleep shirt.

You carefully unhooked him from your clothes and gently set him down in one of the chairs at the kitchen table. He whined in refusal, reaching out for you once more before becoming distracted by a coloring book that had been left at the table.

Unsure as to what exactly you should make for the young boy, you searched the kitchen cabinets before settling on toast. Simple and easy. As the bread sat toasting, you decided to investigate the new environment you had been put in.

You could tell you were still in the city, just a different section of it. You could see the towering skyscrapers through the windows of the apartment. This apartment was definitely not your own. For one, it was much smaller with a completely different layout. And, it looked to be in disorder with toys scattered everywhere in the living space. It certainly was not to your standards, but you could manage it for a few weeks as Namjoon had instructed. All you had to do was follow this life perfectly, and it couldn’t be that hard. Right?

You pulled yourself away from the windows, the drop off sending a familiar shiver down your spine, and rushed back into the kitchen to finish up the breakfast for the boy coloring away furiously at his book.

Once you had the plate situated in front of him, you caught sight of a wallet on the opposite side of the table. Without hesitation you rounded the table and snatched it up, rifling through the items inside until you caught sight of what you were looking for. An ID.

“Jung Hoseok.” You mumbled, the name tingling on your lips and echoing in your mind. So, this was your temporary husband.

“What are you doing?” A voice asked from behind you causing you to jump in fright.

You pivoted on your heels to face the man, your husband, Hoseok. Despite the fear his voice evoked in your body, he was presenting you with a blinding smile. One that sent chills throughout your body for reasons that were unknown to you.

“Hoseok?” You said, although it sounded more like a question.

“Hoseok?” He chuckled, “What did I do, am I in trouble? What happened to Hobi or hunny?”

Well shit, you were already fucking things up weren’t you?

“You know if you need anything you can always ask me, baby. No need to go sneaking around.” He said, his smile still pinned to his cheeks as he struck you with a penetrating gaze.

He said nothing for a moment, he just stared at you with that smile in absolute silence. It was so quiet you could hear the blood pulsing through your ears and the soft ticking of the clock in the corner of the room as you tried to avoid his gaze. Despite the high position you once held in your previous life, you had never been very good with eye contact. He was really testing you today.

He remained quiet as he grabbed the wallet from your hand and slipped it into his pants pocket before straightening his jacket out.

“Jihoon, you’re going to be late for school. Go get ready.” Hoseok said, his voice and face still appearing cheerful as the little boy shuffled out of his chair and darted down the hallway to his bedroom.

You didn’t know why, but you were struck with the feeling that something was very wrong here.

You remained motionless as Hoseok raised his hand, cupping the side of your face rather gently, much softer than you originally expected.

“You’ll be good for me while I’m gone, won’t you baby?” He whispered, his lips lightly brushing your cheekbone as his fingers gently swiped over the smooth skin of your cheek.

You said nothing, you merely nodded in agreement so that he would finally release you and leave you alone to process what you had gotten yourself into.

Without warning, he pressed his lips to your own in a hard kiss spurring a cry of surprise from you. You attempted to pull away from him only to find his hand at your back, keeping you pressed close to him as he sighed against your mouth, a shudder shaking through his body. His grip was becoming stronger, borderline bruising the more you squirmed against him as he tongue swiped over the flesh of your lower lip.

“Ew! Daddy!” Jihoon yelled as he reentered the room, fully dressed for school with his little backpack slung over his small shoulders.

Hoseok pulled away from you with a laugh, allowing you to stumble away from your supposed husband, your hand cupping your mouth. You took back whatever you had thought about Jihoon before, he was your saving grace.

“Sorry buddy, Daddy just loves Mommy so much!” Hoseok said, his voice full of glee as he gave his son a quick hug before standing up again. “I’ll see you after work.”

Hoseok headed to the door, stopping for a moment to look you over one last time. “I’ll be seeing you later as well.” He said with a wink before exiting the apartment.

Thank fuck he was gone.

Jihoon quickly approached the now closed door, sliding his shoes on and reaching for the door knob.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You asked as you watched the young boy open the door.

“School?” He asked slowly, his little brows furrowed in confusion.

“By yourself? No, give me a minute to get dressed. I'll walk you to the bus.”

“Mommy, you can’t!” He cried, causing you to come to a stop.

“I can’t? And why not?”

“Because, you never do.” He replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

What kind of mother was this person? She didn’t even walk her own kid to the bus to make sure he didn’t get kidnapped? Jihoon was so young, he couldn’t have been older than six by the looks of him. He was practically still a baby.

“Well I am now, wait right there Jihoon.”

You were still dressed in the baggy T-shirt you had woken in, the fabric rumpled and hanging loosely over your shoulders revealed a fraction of your collarbone. It didn’t take a genius to figure out this was Hoseok’s shirt. You hissed in annoyance and ripped the shirt from your body, filing it into a corner of the bedroom.

The closet was filled to the brim with clothes, both yours and your “husband’s.” You swept the various suits and shirts aside until you stopped at your own clothes. You found it strange the amount of formal attire Hoseok possessed and your lack of it. Your side of the closet was filled with comfortable clothes, the only “formal” attire you owned was a wedding dress tucked all the way in the back of the closet and stored away in a plastic case.

You sighed in frustration, settling on a pair of leggings and a large hoodie. One that was, presumably, your husbands as well. Did this woman have no desire to take pride in her appearance? Apparently not.

“Come on, Jihoon!” You called with a clap of your hands as you made your way to the front door where he waited, his small hands wrapped around the straps of his backpack.

Jihoon didn’t say anything in response, he merely held up his hand and slipped it into your own. He was a cute kid, a perfect reflection of Hoseok, but eerily enough you could see your own features reflected in him.

You released a deep breath through your nose, pushing those thoughts to the back of your head. You needed to focus on getting him to school for now.

The door clicked shut behind you as the two of you began making your way out of the building. The weather was still warm, not that much different from what it had been in your past life. It was nice, being able to take in the fresh air for a moment and be able to process what exactly you were going through.

Jihoon had taken the initiative for the both of you, considering you had no idea where the bus picked him up for school everyday. His hand was still clutched in your own, his arm outstretched as he walked quickly in front of you. He was talking a million miles per minute, the most random things leaving his mouth. And, just when he was about to get to the point, he would find something new to distract himself.

“Oh, Mommy! Look at that butterfly!” He was painfully cute.

“Oh, it’s very...pretty.” You said, unsurely. At first glance, the creature was beautiful. It’s wings wide yet delicate, painted with bright colors like paint splatters on a fresh canvas. But, it had a large chunk missing from it’s right wing. The injured wing fluttered every now and then with the gentle breeze. The poor thing was trapped in the flower bed it was lying in, it would never be able to fly again.

You were pulled from your reverie as Jihoon tugged on your arm sharply. He beckoned you to lower yourself down to his height. As soon as you had settled down on your haunches he threw himself against you in a tight hug, squeezing you twice for good measure.

“Bye Mommy, I love you!” He yelled before pressing a kiss to your cheek and turning on his heels, darting towards the school bus.

You stayed there for a moment, your hand frozen on the spot he had left a kiss. So, that was what it was like to have a family. To have someone love you. You had never had that before.

You rose back up to your feet, taking a moment to gather yourself back up again. You could see there was a park nearby, and getting yourself over there seemed like a good enough idea. You didn’t want to go back to the apartment just yet, you still had no idea what you were supposed to do. You didn’t like the thought of just waiting at “home” for Jihoon, or worse, Hoseok to come back.

Jihoon was easy, predictable. But Hoseok, he was uncharted territory. A raging sea you didn’t know how to navigate.

Damn you and your incapability to foster stable relationships.

It was only day one of this temporary life and you were completely out of your depth. A husband? A son? A stay at home mom? You had and were none of these things, but now you had every single one of them. Whether you wanted them or not. Namjoon gave you orders, and if you wanted to survive, you had no choice but to follow them. You had to play along.

You walked slowly, tiredly, through the park. The tips of your sneakers were dragging against the ground, kicking loose stones off to the side. A few weeks he had told you, just how long exactly was that?

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear the incoming footsteps approaching rapidly. It was the feeling of fingers gripping your shoulders and violently spinning you around that finally caught your attention, a cry of shock escaping you.

“What are you doing?!” A voice cried, their hands shaking you to garner your attention.

The sun that had blinded you finally lightened as it slipped behind a thick cover of clouds, disappearing out of sight. You could see now, and the man that was holding you so tightly was none other than Hoseok.

“H-Hoseok?” You stuttered, your hands gripping his wrists as he ceased to lessen his hold on you. What was he doing here? He had left for work no longer than half an hour ago.

“Did you hear me? I said, what are you doing?!”

“I’m going on a walk? I just dropped Jihoon off at the bus.”

“You did what?!” He yelled, his face stricken with panic and a deep, hidden anger. His hold on you was only becoming stronger, near bruising as he shook you once more.

“Hoseok! Stop it, you’re hurting me!” You yelled, taking a step back from him.

That seemed to do the trick, his voice quieted and his hold became much lighter than before. What the fuck was wrong with him? Why was he acting like you had just committed a crime.

His eyes slipped closed as he took a deep, calming breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the motion. “Baby, you don’t leave the apartment. You know this, we’ve been over this.”

“What?” You asked, utterly confused.

This seemed to shock Hoseok, his brows raising and his eyes widening. The both of you were standing there, a gap between the two of you as you stared at one another with equal states of confusion. You not knowing what he meant, and him wondering if you were experiencing some sort of memory loss.

“Come on, I’m taking you home, you need rest.” He finally said with a gentle smile, he was firmly set on the idea that you must be sick from how strange you were acting.

You didn’t trust him or that fake smile he was giving you. Something was going on here, and it was terribly wrong.

“No.” You said firmly, taking a step backward when he tried to grab hold of you again.

His smile drifted away, it was like watching the moon slip over the sun into a solar eclipse. The Hoseok you were left with was one that had a cold, stricken expression that bled disbelief.

“What did you say?” He asked you, slowly.

“I said, no.” You spat back, your voice sharp and firm despite the tingles of fear and anxiety creeping through every muscle in your body.

“I dare you, say that to me one more time baby and you won’t like what happens next.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Hoseok.”

That did it. As soon as he took one step in your direction, you spun around and booked it like a track star. You paid no mind to where you were going, not caring who you had to shove aside to clear a path for you to get away. You were trusting your gut, and it was screaming at you to get as far away as possible. You could hear Hoseok behind you, yelling your name and telling you to come back, but you paid him no mind. You just knew that this was your one and only chance to get away from him before you lost it.

Everything he had said and done had raised red flags in your mind, the way he talked to you and touched you, it was all wrong. It was possessive and dark, whether he intended it to be or not.

What husband doesn’t allow their wife to leave their home? What father lets their six year old child walk themselves to school? What caring man demands you obey his every will? There was something wrong.

You couldn’t hear Hoseok behind you anymore, the crowd had thickened substantially the further away you got from the park and the deeper into the city you were. People were staring at you strangely as you shoved through the crowds, grunting in annoyance as you squeezed yourself through them.

The crosswalk was fairly empty, you could make it through and keep going, you had no time to stop and question how far away Hoseok was. So, you broke through the final band of people and began to sprint through the road, despite the sudden cries and warnings that were being shouted behind you.

Fuck, there was a reason the crosswalk was empty, wasn’t there?

You turned your head to the side as you ran, only to come face to face with an oncoming car, coming in so fast you knew it wouldn’t be able to stop. No matter what you did, it was going to hit you. You threw your arms up in front of your face, blinding yourself as you squeezed your eyes shut and prepared yourself for the impact.

But it never came.

“Day one and you’re already fucking things up, aren’t you?”

The sounds of the city had fallen silent, there were no more car horns, no people talking, nothing. It was dead quiet. You slowly peeled your arms away from your face and opened your eyes.

Namjoon was there, still dressed in that three piece suit of his as he leaned up against the hood of the car that had almost hit you. He looked beyond pissed with you. You looked around, taking notice of your environment. There were people still looking at you, their faces frozen in shock and horror. There was a bird above you, it’s body frozen in midair with its wings spread wide open. And there was a little girl on the corner of the street, her popsicle stuck freefalling a foot above the ground.

Time had been suspended.

“Namjoon! You don’t understand, this life you put me in, I can’t do it! I’m not a wife or a mother, I can’t do it! And my husband? There’s something wrong with him, I don’t know what but he isn’t right in the head.”

Namjoon rolled his head back, a sharp sigh leaving his lips before he righted himself and pressed his fingers to his temples.

“You need to go back.” He simply said, his frustration evident.

“I just told you I can’t -”

“It’s either you go back to him and play house for a few fucking weeks, or I take you back to the crossroads and process you!” He snapped.

You jumped in surprise at the sudden intensity of his voice. When you had first met Namjoon he was calm, collected, even a little embarrassed at the mess up that had occurred. Now, he was frustrated.

“I told you before, you need to follow this life perfectly, you cannot let anyone know that anything is amiss. That means you need to be Jihoon’s mother and Hoseok’s wife. Whether you like it or not, that’s reality. So, you need to decide right now what you are going to do. Are you going to grin and bear it for a few measly weeks, or are we both leaving right now?”

You remained quiet for a moment. You already knew what your answer was going to be before you even opened your mouth. You needed to stop panicking and start thinking efficiently. What was a few weeks of unease and fear in comparison to years of your life you would gain in return. It was a good investment.

“I’ll do it.” You finally said.

“Good,” Namjoon breathed a sigh of relief as he popped off the hood of the car, “No more fuck ups, for my sake and yours.”

And then he was gone, disappeared into thin air.

The world was moving around you again, and you were no longer standing on the crosswalk but instead in the middle of the sidewalk as the crowd of people that were previously waiting to cross the road dissipated and made their way to the other side.

And then, those same hands were on you again, but this time they pulled you into a warm chest, crushing you like a boa constrictor in a desperate hug.

“You scared the shit out of me!” Hoseok cried, his hand settling on the back of your neck as he pulled your head into the space between his neck and shoulder.

How ironic, you had scared him.

~~~~~~~

Hoseok hadn’t even taken the risk of walking you back home, instead he flagged down a taxi and ushered the both of you into the back seat. The ride was spent in silence between the two of you. You sat there, the side of your head pressed against the window as you listened to the music from the radio and the feeling of Hoseok’s hand on your thigh keeping you immobile.

You allowed him to grip your wrist when the cab arrived outside your apartment and when he dragged you back inside. It seemed so much darker now after you had been outside. You really didn’t want to be trapped in that small apartment with just you and him and no Jihoon to protect you.

His hold didn’t lighten until he had dragged you into the bedroom you had woken up in the morning. It was then that he pressed his hand against your shoulders and shoved you backwards on the bed, quickly climbing on top of you as you began to flail your limbs wildly in surprise.

“Calm down, hunny.” He cooed, a genuine, sadistic smile on his face now. All the other smiles before had been so fake now that you had seen this one. This one was beyond thrilled.

You flinched as you felt cold metal encircle your wrist and snap shut. He had you handcuffed to the bed, there was no running away now that was for sure.

Your heart was thumping frantically in your chest, your limbs shaking as the adrenaline that had once faded was flooding through you again. Your instincts had been dead on accurate, you should have kept running when you had the chance.

“Baby, baby, baby,” He laughed, tilting his head to the side as his eyes shone with glee. “I haven’t seen you in so long, I thought you were gone.”

You were shaking beneath him as his eyes traced over every inch on your body, his fingers playing with the loose strands of your hair.

“You’ve been acting so different today, almost like how you were when we first met all those years ago.” He hummed, his face pressing closer to yours as he lightly brushed his lips down the side of your cheek before stopping to press a kiss at the curve of your jaw.

You flinched to the side in discomfort, spurring a delighted giggle from his lips.

“As fun as it is to have you like this again, that doesn’t mean I can let your bad behavior go unpunished. You left without my permission and you said no to me, I can’t have that baby, I just can’t.” He sighed, the puff of air against your flesh spurring goosebumps to rise in response.

“So, be a good little girl for me, and don’t move.” He instructed, pressing a lazy kiss to the bared column of your throat.

“You’re in timeout, a couple hours to yourself should help you think long and hard about what you did today.” He laughed, pulling himself off of you and retreating towards the bedroom door.

“I’d think of a good way to apologize to me if I were you.”

And then he was gone. Once the door shut you could feel your heartbeat steadily falling and returning to normal. “Play house,” Namjoon had said, “Grin and bear it,” he told you. You weren’t so sure if those sentiments applied to your situation anymore.

It was confirmed, you were married to a sadistic sociopath.

Hoseok had left you chained to the bed for hours on end like the asshole that he was. You were rightfully scared of him, like you had previously thought, he was unpredictable. One moment he was kind and gentle and the next he was angry and after that he was filled with a corrosive glee.

How were you supposed to make it through the next few weeks like this? It was impossible.

All you could do was lay there, stewing in anxiety as you were drowning in your never ending stream of thoughts about your fate at the hands of your so-called husband.

By the time you heard the front door unlocking the sunlight had completely shifted in the room. The light was now entering at a different angle casting long, dark shadows over the room. It looked like the light was being chased away by the tendrils of darkness curling at its soft edges.

You could hear a loud thud coming from the main room and the sound of little footsteps approaching the bedroom quickly.

“Mommy!” A voice called before the door was shoved open. Jihoon. “Found you!” He giggled, kicking his shoes off before scrambling up the side of the bed and crawling over to you on all fours.

Jihoon seemed undeterred by the sight of your wrist bound to the headboard behind you as he curled up against your side, his head resting on your shoulder as he wrapped his small arms around you. A chill traced its way up your spine, this wasn’t the first time he had seen his mother like this. No, this was common for him.

Jihoon was already prattling endlessly about his day, much like he had on the way to the school bus that morning. His chatter suddenly came to a stop as he ran out of things to say, instead he let out a little hum and asked you: “Daddy put you in time out?”

“Yeah, Jihoon, Mommy’s in time out.” You replied, your jaw clenched and your eyes pressed shut.

“I told you, you can’t leave. Daddy always finds you.” He said, nodding his head in agreement with himself as he began to play with your hair.

Your eyes snapped open, you head turning to the side to look at Jihoon. That definitely meant something, didn’t it? In fact, how had Hoseok found you at the park in the first place? Or on the sidewalk you had run to?

“Jihoon...how does Daddy find Mommy?” You asked him.

Jihoon continued to play with your hair, his tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration as he twisted and knotted your hair in a sloppy braid. “Your boo boo.”

“My boo boo?”

Jihoon stopped his shaky braiding for a moment, meeting your eyes as he grabbed your free hand and led it to the back of your neck. That was when you felt it.

Right there, at the nape of your neck, was a small bump beneath the flesh. You smoothed your finger over it a few more times in disbelief, making sure that what you were feeling was actually real.

He had microchipped you, like a dog.

A pit settled itself into your stomach as the reality of your situation finally hit you. The life you had been injected in was far more dark and twisted than you had first thought. This went beyond overprotectiveness and time outs, this was a clear show of obsession and possessiveness. In Hoseok’s eyes, you belonged to him.

And, upon having that realization, your husband returned home from work.

The bedroom door had been left wide open, giving you a clear view of Hoseok entering the apartment as he shimmied his jacket off of his shoulders and loosened his tie. Your arm curled around Jihoon tighter, pressing him even closer to your side like he was a life preserver, the only thing keeping you from being dragged down into the dark trenches of the sea. He felt safe to you.

The minute Hoseok looked up and caught sight of the two of you, the bleak and tired look that adorned his features drifted away and was replaced by that same fake smile, the one that never reached his eyes but lit up his entire face.

“There’s my two most favorite people in the world!” He called, pulling a laugh from Jihoon who raised his arms up in a gesture suggesting he wanted Hoseok to hold him.

Traitor.

Hoseok bounded into the room, lifting Jihoon up from underneath his arms and spinning him around before settling himself on the bed beside you with Jihoon on his chest, excited giggles shaking his entire body.

It startled you how normal this would have looked from the outside, minus your hand being cuffed. To anyone else it could have looked like any other family spending time together after a long day. A stay at home mother with her busy husband and their young son. Oh, how far that was from the truth.

“You hungry, buddy?” Hoseok asked, tickling his son's sides. “How about take out tonight?”

“Yeah!” Jihoon agreed enthusiastically.

“What do you think, Mommy?” Hoseok asked you, pivoting his head to the side, his dark eyes fixing you to your spot.

Play along.

“That sounds good.” You nodded, attempting to do some damage control from your actions earlier that day.

“Good answer baby,” Hoseok smiled, popping Jihoon off of him as he slid over to you, fishing the keys to the handcuffs out of his back pocket. His thumb gently stroked the reddened flesh of your bound wrist before freeing it. He held your wrist in his hand for a moment before pressing a long kiss to the irritated flesh.

“Behave.” He whispered into your skin, looking up at you through half lidded eyes before he flipped his switch again and bounced off of the bed in glee. “C’mon Jihoon, you can pick where we order from!”

~~~~~~~

The air had been thick with tension for the rest of the night, unbeknownst to Jihoon who was too excited to be with both of his parents to realize that there was anything wrong.

Jihoon had become a buffer between you and Hoseok, the little boy seating himself between the two of you on the couch with his food in hand while his legs kicked back and forth excitedly. A little hum of happiness left him with each bite of his food, completely oblivious to the dark look Hoseok was sending you over his head.

You had somehow managed to equally piss him off and excite him all in one day. You were scared of what it would be like when Jihoon had to inevitably go to bed, he wouldn’t be there to protect you anymore.

There were few things you had been scared of in your previous life, and they were normal things for a person of your stature. You had been scared of being mugged, being kidnapped for ransom, having someone break into your apartment, or becoming a disappointment to your family.

Most of those things could have been remedied with a bodyguard. Never in your entire life did you ever think you would come to rely on a six year old boy, your “son,” to be your protection. It was strange how much could change, all in the course of one night, one mistake.

Once again, you had found yourself cradling Jihoon to your side, his body relaxing under your touch as he snuggled up against you. He gently guided your hand away from your lap, and onto his head, a sign that he wanted you to play with the short strands of hair.

You pulled your hands away from your legs and allowed your son to lay his head down as you softly stroked his hair in a calming, soothing motion. The light of the television was flickering, casting a blue glow onto his young features. His eyes had fluttered shut, his long lashes casting smooth shadows against the skin beneath his eyes. His breath was coming out slower now beneath your touch, the rise and fall of his chest becoming slower and deeper than before.

Jenny had been right about one thing, you would have had cute children. When you went back, a part of you was certain that you would miss Jihoon. Your little protector.

You jolted at Hoseok’s unexpected touch, his arm sliding behind your shoulders as he moved closer to you on the couch. An annoyed whine sounded from Jihoon at the sudden motion causing him to press his face against your legs in an attempt to escape whatever was disrupting his sleep.

Hoseok leaned closer, his warmth seeping into your side. He joined your hand on Jihoon’s head, lightly smoothing over his hair before speaking. “I think it’s time for bed, little man.”

“Noooo!” Jihoon whined, “I wanna stay with Mommy.”

“Not tonight, buddy. You need to be a big boy and sleep in your own bed.”

“I don’t wanna!” He cried.

Sensing an impending tantrum, Hoseok scooped Jihoon up into his arms and cradled him to his chest. He started rubbing his back in slow motions, bouncing lightly with each step that he took. Miraculously, you could see Jihoon’s eyes begin to droop shut, his fatigue returning in full blast.

Your parents never did that for you.

You watched as Hoseok retreated into Jihoon’s room, presumably to get him ready for bed.

Shit, your bodyguard was falling asleep.

Your body moved before you could think, flinging itself from the couch and sprinting for the bedroom. You couldn’t think of what to do, you knew that as soon as Hoseok was done with Jihoon he was going to come after you and you didn’t know what to expect. So, you did what any other grown woman would do.

You hid under the covers.

Your heart was beating loudly in your chest, the sound echoing through your ears as you squeezed your eyes shut in fright. All you could do what lay there and wait for him, you were doing nothing but delaying the inevitable.

When you heard his footsteps rounding the corner you tried to slow your breathing, forcing your chest to rise and fall slower to make it seem like you had fallen asleep. If he bought it, then maybe he would leave you alone.

Unlikely.

He did the exact opposite. You could hear him close the door behind him, shuffling around the room as he got ready for bed. Your breath hitched in your throat as the lights flickered off, and the mattress dipped beside you from his weight.

It was dead silent in that pitch black room, the only sounds you could hear were the ringing in your ears, your breaths, and his.

You flinched in surprise when he latched onto you, dragging you backwards into the warmth of his bare chest.

You tried your best to remain calm, to breathe lightly, and to not move. But Hoseok was no idiot, and you were daft if you thought you could fool him.

“I know you’re awake.” He whispered, his nose pressing against your hair as he took in a deep breath, sending a sharp chill down your spine.

He remained quiet for a moment, his arms wrapping tighter around your body. The feeling was the same as if a boa constrictor was curling around you. Slowly increasing the pressure, tightening its grasp in an attempt to squeeze the life out of you. Slow, calculating, and intimate.

The arm that had looped around your middle lightly drew backwards, allowing his hand to slide beneath your shirt and rest on the bare skin of your waist.

“I think I know a way you can make it up to me.” He mumbled with his lips pressed against your throat.

His palm smoothed over the skin of your lower abdomen, just above the hem of your underwear as he buried his head into the crook of your neck, lips and tongue tracing over the bared flesh. Like a little lamb you had found yourself caught in the jaws of the predator, one snap away from the clutches of death.

You remained frozen from a blend of shock and fear, all sense of fight or flight leaving you and rendering you immobile. Every nerve in your body was screaming at you to move, to pull away, to throw yourself off of the bed. But your muscles were tense, frozen in a state of pure anxiety and fear, you knew nothing more than the thought of keeping still like a rabbit in the face of danger.

He moved to the side, dragging you onto your back so he could settle himself on top of you. He braced himself with his arms on either side of you, caging you in with no room to escape. He gave you no warning of what he was thinking of doing, he merely swooped down and pressed his lips to your own.

A muffled squeak rattled in your chest, your heart suddenly thudding louder than before like an alarm sounding to wake you up. Your hands moved first, sliding onto his chest and barely applying any force, struggling to push him back. His skin was warm and smooth against your palms, an alluring honey shade that you would have been enamored by like you had been that morning, had you not been exposed to his true nature.

“Hoseok.” You said, finally breaking free of his kiss.

Your call of his name had the exact opposite effect of what you had hoped. A deep groan rumbled in his chest as he pressed his hips against yours, effectively pinning you to the mattress beneath him.

“Hoseok!” You tried again, trying to grab his attention.

“That’s it baby, keep saying my name.” He sighed, expertly rolling his hips against yours.

Oh. Oh no.

The sudden wave of arousal that washed over you was unwelcomed and even more frightening than anything else. You weren’t even in control of yourself anymore, that was what his presence did to you.

“Play along,” The words that Namjoon had told you were suddenly echoing in your mind.

Your breath got caught in your throat as he pressed himself closer to you, you could feel the smooth roll of his hard length pressing against your core, light sparks of pleasure tingling throughout you. Shadows of fear still crept around in the back of your mind, the nape of your neck throbbing in a twisted reminder of the chip that lay beneath the skin.

Hoseok was in his own world, hell bent on teasing you until he grew tired of it. He shifted his weight onto one arm allowing his hand to delicately trace up the length of your body. His fingers just barely brushed your thigh, trailing upwards to trace the hollows of your hips before settling on your waist and rising up over the barrel of your ribcage that was exposed so nicely for him from your arched spine.

You were laying there, helpless for him, frozen from a state of arousal and fear that was blending perfectly into its own dark, tempting cocktail. You pressed your lips together firmly, smothering any whine that tried to force its way free from you when he pulled back, the motion of his hips stilling as he played with the hem of your shirt. You didn’t know if you wanted to yell at him to go away, or scold him for stopping.

Either way, you didn’t have much say on the matter.

He tilted his head from side to side, his dark eyes tracing over your form from head to toe. A small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he watched the heavy rise and fall of your chest, your wrinkled shirt, and the way your thighs and hips jerked from the loss of his touch. You looked adorable to him, he couldn’t deny the powerful feeling it gave him to see you so helpless beneath him. He was sick, and he loved it.

His fingers were still tracing the hem of your shirt, like he was contemplating removing it despite the both of you knowing it was inevitably going to come off. Hoseok was an impatient man, that much you could tell. He firmly gripped the bottom of your shirt and began to roll it up agonizingly slowly, that satisfied smirk still pinned to his handsome features.

“Whaddya say, hunny? Should we give Jihoon a sibling?” He laughed, his tongue flicking out to swipe over his lower lip at the thought of getting to see you full with his child again. He would be a liar if he said the thought didn’t turn him on.

All of the blood rushed to your face, your thighs tensing reflexively against him where he was settled between your legs.

“Is that what you want?” He hummed, hands settling on your hips and roughly pulling you down the mattress against him. “You want me to fill you up again, sweetheart?”

You didn’t get a chance to even consider answering his lewd question, a sudden shock of lighting and a deep roll of thunder caught the two of you off guard. The once pitch black room had been lit up by the blast of light, the windows shaking from the boom of thunder.

And then, there was the sound of crying and little footsteps.

Hoseok hung his head backwards in distress before rolling off of you with an annoyed whine echoing through the room. “God fucking dammit.”

“Mommy! Daddy!” Jihoon yelled before throwing the door open and scampering up over the foot of the bed, his little face wet with tears as he scrambled over the sheets and settled himself in between the two of you.

If you had questioned it before, you weren’t questioning it now. Jihoon was your savior.

“Jihoon, it’s just a little thunder, it’s nothing to be scared of.” Hoseok said, his voice a little sterner than normal, most likely from his case of blue balls.

“It’s scary!” The little boy rebutted, “I wanna sleep with you!”

“Jihoon -”

“It’s okay you can sleep with Mommy and Daddy tonight.” You cut Hoseok off, opening your arms for Jihoon to snuggle into.

The look on Hoseok’s face would have been humorous if you didn’t know you were going to have to pay for it eventually.

Everything came with a price, eventually.

~~~~~~~

Hours melted into days, and days slowly migrated into weeks. You had begun to lose track of how much time you had spent in this other life of yours. But you knew you couldn’t stand it for much longer.

You could handle Jihoon, you liked Jihoon, you could stand even being there because of him. Hoseok...he was another story. He never hid his true intentions from you, that was for sure. But the more time you spent trapped inside that apartment the more you began to feel like you were going to lose yourself.

Sometimes you could forget what Hoseok really was, and other times he made sure to remind you. In this life, whoever this person was before you took over, they had never left the apartment since Jihoon was born. That was six years of their life spent trapped within these walls with no one to talk to except for two people who were only home for a few short hours a day.

It was isolating. It wasn’t unlike the lonely life you had lived before in those regards.

You were trapped, chipped, and alone. Any attempt you had made to leave by yourself, for any reason, had been swiftly thwarted by Hoseok. The knowledge of the tracker embedded in your neck reminded you that there was no point in running anyways, he would always find you.

You tried to remind yourself that this would all be worth it in the end, that you could handle these weeks if it meant getting your old life back. But as each week passed, you weren’t so sure that was true any more.

You were in a cyclical hell that you couldn’t manage.

You had opened the door one day at the sound of someone outside it, it had been a new neighbor, a young man with full lips and an unusual laugh. Your heart had soared at the opportunity of being able to speak to someone other than a six year old or your possessive husband, but that had been quickly thwarted.

Hoseok had pulled you back into the apartment and exited into the hallway, shutting the door behind him with a grim glare.

You never spoke to that neighbor again.

Hoseok had become more needy as each week passed and you had taken to sleeping in Jihoon’s bed with him as often as you could, feeling protected by the boy you called your son. But your distance didn’t help in any manner, Hoseok was becoming more aggressive and more irritable. Not with your son, never with your son, but with you.

He grabbed onto you more, touched you more, kissed you harder, and eventually forced you back into sleeping in your bedroom.

You faked an illness for a few days to keep him at bay. That was how you got to this point. He was desperate.

Hoseok was taking you on a work trip, just you, without your son. It was a city or two over, you would be staying at a hotel and having dinner with his coworkers there that same day. He was a desperate man calling for desperate measures to be alone with his wife. That meant that you had no more excuses and no Jihoon to protect you.

Jihoon had cried when you said you had to go away with Hoseok, he didn’t want to go and stay with Hoseok’s mother, he wanted you two. And that part of your heart that had grown to accommodate him was slowly breaking with each tear that rolled down his cheeks.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t love him.

You knew that you weren’t the best mother, you didn’t know what a good mother was like. Yours was efficient at best. So you dug down deep for what maternal instincts you had, held him close, dried his tears, and kissed his chubby cheeks.

And you told him you loved him. The first person you ever loved.

So, that was how you found yourself here, at a table with a bunch of boring men and their partners talking about their work with Hoseok’s hand gripping your thigh, his finger rubbing circles into the skin beneath the length of your dress.

You were incredibly bored of this ordeal. All of these men were business executives and their concepts of how to run a business were rudimentary at best. It took everything in you to keep your mouth closed to not correct them in front of their higher ups and embarrass them for the everyday mistakes they were making.

“Play along.” Namjoon had said, so that was what you did.

Although you may be a mother now, you would always be a business woman and a successful one at that. They didn’t deserve your expertise.

Your eyes lazily drifted away from the table, zoning out as their voices became reduced to a low rumble. And that was when you saw it, a flash of black fur and glowing jade eyes on the ledge outside the window.

Taehyung. It was time.

Your heart leapt with joy, a smile carving into your once stony expression. You could go home now, you could finally wake up from this nightmare. A sharp squeeze to your thigh grounded you, a pit rolling in your stomach. You had to get away from Hoseok.

He was staring at you, confused by the sudden appearance of your joyful grin.

You leaned close to him, whispering lowly, “I have to use the ladies room.”

“I’ll take you.” He replied, going to scoot his chair away from the table.

You gripped his forearm, bringing him to a halt. “No, this is important for you, I’ll only be a moment.”

He stared at you in silence, assessing you and trying to figure out what you were getting at before he spoke. “Behave.”

You nodded quickly before excusing yourself from the table and rushing down the hallway. You had seen a large balcony on your way to the restaurant on the top floor, it was only a little ways away.

As soon as you stepped foot onto the balcony, you saw him. Taehyung was there, resting on the balcony as the sun slowly drifted away behind a cover of clouds, a gentle rain was beginning to tap the marble floor beneath you.

You approached him quickly, your heart pumping in time with the gentle rumble of thunder above you. Taehyung came to a stand on the railing, the sharp drop off beside him glaring at you.

“We have to do it this way, again?” You asked, your hands wrapping around the railing beside him as you peered over. You were even higher now than you had been the first time, sharp tingles were shooting through your hands and feet as you stared down at the streets below.

Taehyung stared at you in silence, his eyes blinking slowly twice. You would take that as a yes.

So, you carefully sat yourself up on the railing and turned, allowing your feet to dangle over the ledge. You watched in horror as your heels slipped off and went plummeting down to the ground. It took them a long time to meet the pavement, it would be a long fall for you.

“Fuck, are all of you reapers this dramatic?” You hissed at the cat. He looked amused at your predicament.

“Okay, let’s do this thing.” You huffed, reaching your hand out to touch the reapers silky midnight fur.

And that was when you heard the panicked call of your name. You looked over your shoulder, your eyes meeting Hoseok’s. His face was ashen, his hands held up as he attempted to approach you. Your eyes caught sight of his phone held up in one of his hands, a blinking dot on a grid staring back at you. He had accessed your tracker.

“Baby, what are you doing?” He asked you, taking small, slow steps in your direction. “Come here, let’s talk, okay?”

“You can’t stop me,” You replied, “I won’t do this any longer.”

“You don’t know what you're saying, you're just stressed and scared. We can get through this.”

“I know what I’m doing, Hoseok. I’m done, my time is up and I need to go.”

“And what about me? What about Jihoon?”

Jihoon. A chill spread through your body, your eyes suddenly stinging. You didn’t know that would be the last time you would hug him or say goodbye. He didn’t know that was the last day he would have a mother.

“Jihoon will be fine.” You said firmly, Taehyung was creeping closer to you now at the same pace that Hoseok was. Your time was coming to a close, Hoseok was trying to compete with death. It was obvious who was going to win.

“I won’t let you do this.” He snapped back, frustration, desperation and fear taking over him as he flung his phone aside and began to run to you.

“You don’t own me.” You spat back.

And then you grabbed Taehyung and clutched him to your chest before slipping off the edge of the balcony, Hoseok’s fingers just brushing your skin before you plummeted off the side of the building.

Death was easier.

~~~~~~~

First, there was darkness.

And then there was the sound of monitors beeping around you.

Your eyes felt as heavy as lead, refusing to open on your command. And for a small, brief moment, you were afraid that when you opened your eyes he would be there. You were afraid that you had missed the window and you were trapped with him again.

But when you did manage to open your eyes, the person sleeping in the chair beside you was Jenny.

You did it.

Everyone was surprised by your survival and your recovery. The fall you had should have shattered your bones, mashed your brain, drained you of your blood. But you survived with minimal injuries. Some people called it a miracle, others thought you were a medical mystery.

And Jenny though you were stupid.

“What the fuck were you doing on that ledge? Were you that drunk or are you just that fucking stupid!” She yelled through her tears.

“Both.” You answered, your face completely deadpan as she rained down a series of hits to your arms in retaliation.

You laughed through it until she finally calmed down, a huffing mess in her chair beside you. “In all honesty, there was a cat on my balcony and I was trying to save it.”

“Oh my god, you are that fucking stupid aren’t you?” She said, shaking her head. “If you want a cat’s attention you lure it with food you dumbass! You are the dumbest smart person I know.” She sighed into her hands.

The two of you remained quiet for a moment as she collected herself and you took in the room around you. There were no cards, no balloons, and no flowers.

“So, I guess none of my family could clear some time in their busy schedules to come see me.” You said, quietly.

Jenny raised her head, sympathy etched into the features of her face. “Do you want honesty, or do you want me to sugar coat it?”

You bit your lip in thought before making up your mind. “Honesty.”

Jenny took in a deep breath before scooting her plastic chair closer to your gurney. “Your family is...distancing themselves from you for the time being.”

“Distancing?” You echoed in confusion.

“The media hasn’t taken too kindly to your...accident. Every tabloid is talking about the woman who has it all trying to throw it away. The public isn’t very happy with you at the moment.”

“The same wouldn’t be said if I had died.” You mumbled, because that was the truth. Nobody cared until it was far too late, their true intentions hiding beneath their masks of sorrow. It didn’t matter how much money you had, you had never been happy, and had your accident truly been an attempt well, maybe it was only a matter of time.

“And what does my family think?”

“They aren’t too happy with you either. Your mother and father have put on a face for the public, wishing you a speedy recovery, but they left you a memo. They aren’t ready to speak with you yet, not until you do something to find your way back into their good graces. Your siblings, on the other hand, have said nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

You had forgotten how lonely this life was. Thoughts of Jihoon tugged at your heart strings, his little whispers of “I love you’s,” your after school snacks and cuddles, and the soft voice he used when he would wake you up in the morning with a gentle: “Mommy?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you!” Jenny said quickly.

Your brow wrinkled in confusion before you felt it, the cool, wet, glide of a tear rolling down the side of your cheek. You were crying.

“It’s not you, Jenny. I’m just thinking about someone I love.”

~~~~~~~

You had returned to work almost immediately upon being discharged from the hospital. Jenny called you stupid, you called it trying to return to your only family. You knew you shouldn’t care about their opinion, not when they so clearly showed their disappointment in you and their lack of care. But they were all you had, they were your family, your blood. They made you what you were.

Right?

So there you were, back to wearing those red bottom heels, those tailored suits, and those glasses you hadn’t touched in so long, hidden behind your desk in your office.

You had kept your cool and your composure when you entered the office, doing your best to show you were unfazed by the shocked stares and the hushed whispers between your employees. You kept your composure only to throw your office door shut and slump against it with panicked pants for air.

No matter how hard you tried, you knew you were never going to be the same anymore. Not after your fall, not after the crossroads, and not after Hoseok. You were broken in ways you couldn’t even comprehend.

Even now, sitting at your desk, eyes trained on your computer, your finger swept over the skin at the nape of your neck, mindlessly feeling for the bump, the tracker that was once buried there. You were only met with seamless skin and irritation from the constant rubbing. You wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up rubbing the back of your neck raw.

A soft knock to your door had you sighing in relief, you needed some respite from the thoughts that were racing a million miles a minute in your mind. You were mentally exhausted from everything you had gone through. You removed your glasses, pressing your cool fingers to your eyes. Your hands were hurting again.

There was a loud crash as the door clicked shut, the sound of liquid spilling violently all over the floor of your office and the thick, strong odor of coffee. And then, there was the shocked gasp of your name.

A familiar chill traced down your spine at the voice, your heart kicking into overdrive. No, it couldn’t be. You rose from your chair causing it to spin away, your breathing quickening as you began to panic.

It was Hoseok, standing there in your office in a puddle of coffee.

Jenny’s words from all those weeks ago came flooding back into your mind. “The poor thing was so nervous, you really should be nicer to him. He has such a sweet smile…”

You stepped backwards in fear, your world suddenly crashing down on you in one fatal swoop.

He called your name again, a similar panic on his face as he crossed the room in distress. “Please! You, you have to help me! I don’t know what's going on but it feels like my head is being torn apart!”

Tears were rushing down your cheeks in endless rivers now. You had walked so far backwards that you were pinned against the tall windows behind you with nowhere left to go.

“I have two lives, two sets of memories running parallel in my head and I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t!”

You closed your eyes, your body shaking and shutting down the closer he got. And then his hands were on your shoulders, shaking you in his grasp as he began to hyperventilate.

“Where’s Jihoon?! Where did he go?! He cried, his body trembling in tune with your own as he was bombarded with memories he knew and ones he didn’t. He was too close now, his body pressed tightly to your own in that same suffocating manner as he panicked, his mind being torn apart for reasons unknown to him, holding onto you to ground himself.

You were beginning to understand now amidst the haze of panic. Namjoon had said he was putting you in a different place, in a different time. He had never said in a different life. You hadn’t become someone else, you had been moved six years forward in time. Those painful weeks you had lived through with the guise of them being temporary had all been for absolutely nothing. You were doomed to live out the life you had been trapped in.

It was fate.

“Where is our son?!”

#bts #bts hoseok #bts x reader #hoseok #jung hoseok #jhope #hoseok x reader #jung hoseok x reader #jhope x reader #yandere #yandere bts #yandere hoseok #bts fanfic #yandere hoseok x reader #yandere kpop #yandere bts x reader

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maddiwrites · 3 years

Text

The Hybrid (Prologue)

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: The Pogues rekindle their friendship with their old childhood best friend and JJ’s first crush, Y/N. Old feelings resurface for JJ and Y/N, possibly leading to a summer neither one of them could ever forget. Due to past trauma, Y/N is reluctant to let anyone into her heart, but JJ never backs down from a challenge, even if he knows it will come back to haunt him in the end.

Note: So happy to be back with another series!!! I honestly really missed posting. Unlike Secrets of the Shore, updates will be slower because I don’t have them all written out yet. A couple things I wanted to let you know before you read. I based Y/N’s family off of Gilmore Girls. I thought they were the perfect fit for this story and the show in general and I just love their dynamic. (Including Luke who I renamed Steve for obvious reasons). Chapter 1 will explain more obviously but I wanted to give you guys a little snippet of the characters and relationships. So let me know what y'all think!

Word Count: 3.3k

Outer Banks. Paradise on Earth. It's the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island. As you know, the Outer Banks is essentially divided into two groups. If we want to be blunt - it’s the rich and the poor. Figure Eight is home to the rich. Aka the Kooks. With houses bigger than necessary with extra rooms that go untouched, boats the size of homes on the Cut - the other side of the island. Most people who live on Figure Eight are your naturally raised assholes. People who don’t know the value of a dollar and take advantage of people who do most of their dirty work that lets them prance around the island with perfectly manicured fingernails. These hard workers are the Pogues. They live on the south side of the island where most Kooks wouldn’t be found dead. They serve fancy meals at the country club for shitty tips, mow lawns, and work their asses off at any other job for minimum wage. The drastic difference in lifestyles tend to cause many spats and arguments between the two communities. Especially between the teenagers who still don’t know how to control their raging emotions or know when to bite back their tongue. For the Kooks, every fight is a fight for dominance where as the Pogues fight for equality - to put the Kooks in their place. Many of these fights happen at summer parties where the two groups clash to find a good time with their friends filled with alcohol, drugs, and good music.

That’s where they find themselves tonight. The infamous Pogues. John B, JJ, Kie, Pope, and now Sarah Cameron. Although born a natural Kook, she’s earned her spot next to the adventurous teens and her boyfriend. Unlike her brother Rafe who basically is the leader of his notorious group. Topper and Kelce are his best friends who follow him blindly.

The Pogues watch them from their spot surrounding the keg. Kie purses her lips in distaste as the boys cat call for the ladies around them. Somehow most of them finding it flattering. Sarah sips on her beer to hide her embarrassment, often wondering how she and her brother grew up to be so different. Pope and John B stay mostly disinterested, only worried if they try to make a pass at an unwilling girl or fire a degrading comment at their short tempered friend. JJ Maybank is known around the island for his trouble making behavior. Usually if he gets in trouble for fights, no one ever asks who the other people were in the scuffle. Because if JJ Maybank is in the fight, he’s the one who started it, right? Wrong. In fact, JJ usually is never the one to start it. He’s good at keeping his head down and only speaking when spoken to when it comes to the Kooks - the only form of advice worth taking from his father. But his short temper is something the Kooks his age loved to take advantage of because they liked getting a rise out of him. It was like an adrenaline rush.

Luckily, tonight both groups were keeping their distance, either only talking to each other or random Tourons that have found their way to the party. This is usually JJ’s favorite part of a boneyard party. Finding his one fish in a sea of many that he can reel in just for the night and never have to worry about seeing them again.

He has his eyes set on a beautiful blonde making her way to the bonfire when all of a sudden Kie’s voice pulls him out of his trance.

“What’s she doing here?”

JJ follows her line of vision, spotting you walking down the wooden steps that lead to the beach, pulling your best friend behind you by his wrist. He first notices your smile and how it brightens up your entire face. Then of course his eyes scan down your slim but athletically toned body. You’re wearing a pair of jean shorts and a cropped white T shirt that says UNC across the chest. Who knew someone could look so good without even trying?

Well JJ did. He’s known it for a while.

“Careful. I think you’re drooling,” John B whispers in his best friend’s ear.

JJ pushes him away and mutters, “Shut up. No I’m not.”

But maybe he was.

Y/N Y/L/N is a unique resident of the island. Unlike majority of the island, she doesn’t fall in either Kook or Pogue category. She’s what everyone calls the Hybrid.

People who work hard for what they have but haven’t fallen to be Pogue status. Quite literally living in the middle in a place they call the Crest.

Your story is well versed among the gossipers of the island (which tends to be just about everybody). And mainly that’s because of who your grandparents are. Claude and Doris Y/L/N. Two of the riches people on the island, living in a three story house on the beach. Many people fear them, others envy them. Most feel both. Even Ward Cameron walks on egg shells around them, which is quite often, considering he works for Claude. They’re the kind of people who have never heard of Barefoot wine or Walmart. They keep their noses up and turn a blind eye to the suffering communities around them. Thirty four years ago, Doris gave birth to a daughter that couldn’t be more opposite than them. Lorelai Y/L/N was a wild child. A rule breaker. She snuck out at nights, dated boys her parents would never approve of, dabbled in breaking the law here and there. It didn’t matter how many times her parents disciplined her. She always managed to make her parents’ life a living hell.

No one was surprised when word got passed around that Lorelai had gotten pregnant at eighteen. Although it was with another Kook, she brought shame upon her family name when she refused to get an abortion, even when her mom tried dragging her by her hair.

Lorelai risked everything by running away from her parents’ home in the middle of a windy night. With only one suitcase, the baby daddy out of the picture, and less than a grand in her pocket, she managed to make a life for herself on the South side of the island. She worked two jobs, found an affordable apartment for cheap rent, and managed to save some money before her babies were born.

Yes, babies. As in more than one. Five months after running away from home, she gave birth to twin girls and they instantly became her entire life. With the help of her best friend Steve, who she met one month after being on her own, meeting him at his automotive shop when she very much literally rolled her junky car into the garage, she raised you and your sister on the Cut. The two of you are her greatest accomplishment. Every now and then, she mentally throws up a middle finger to everybody who doubted her, proud of who the two of you have become.

Right before you turned ten, your mom took a business risk and opened her own Cafe. The Bikini Beans cafe, very popular amongst both Kooks and Pogues. The business did so well that she was able to move the three of you out of your shitty apartment into a beautiful one story home with three bedrooms in between the Cut and Figure Eight, aka the Crest, the summer going into your freshman year.

You actually used to be best friends with John B Routledge, JJ Maybank, and Pope Heyward. It was easier being friends with them than the girls, finding more joy in sports and rough housing than makeup and gossip.

Doing the same summer that you moved, your mom pulled you out of Kildare County High and placed you in Outer Banks Private Academy. Aka Kook Academy. Around this time, your grandparents had also become more involved in your life, and you wondered if they had somehow bribed your mom into forcing you to transfer schools. You tried asking her during one of your many fights that started with you begging her to keep you at Kildare County High, but she quickly shut you down and told you to be grateful. That was ironic coming from the woman who ran away from the people giving her an expensive high school career.

You had no choice but to do what your grandparents wanted and attend Kook Academy. Making friends was a lot harder there than it was in Kildare County High. You managed to make one friend in your freshman year. Andre Cortez. Due to an incident a couple years back, you built thick walls and Andre was the only one able to break them down. You were grateful for your friendship, but hanging out with him was nothing like hanging out with the Pogues.

When you transferred schools, you lost touch with the Pogues slowly. Your life became busy with school and playing dress up for your grandparents and the boys were starting to work. Eventually all contact was cut and ever since, you’ve felt a void in your heart.

“Look,” You tell Andre. “I told you I would be your wing woman and I’m not backing down from what could possibly be the most important role in my life.”

You didn’t notice the Pogues or any of the stares around you. It’s true you’re not much of a party girl. I mean, you’ll go out here and there, have a drink or two, but you felt more comfortable at places where you weren’t surrounded by drunk and horny teenagers.

“He’s probably not even here,” Andre says. He’s trying to look nonchalant but you notice the way his eyes dance from face to face of the people around him.

“He told you he was going to be here, right?” You ask him with one brow raised. Andre nods. “Then, we’ll find him.”

Sarah and Kie never made any effort to talk to you at school, but to be fair, neither have you. You’ve heard mixed reviews, some people call them spoiled brats, ungrateful...some even go as far as calling them ‘The Cut Sluts.’ Of course you never take any of those things to heart. You can’t judge a book but it's cover. Plus, they’re friends with your old best friends. They can’t be that bad for John B and JJ and Pope to be hanging out with them, right?

“You think she'll come over here?” Kie asks. No one’s ever said it out loud, but her friends wonder if deep down, Kie was a little jealous of you. Because you were their first real girl friend. You were the first girl they ever let in and opened their heart too. That was a tough pill for Kie to swallow when she originally thought she was that girl. Of course the boys don’t like you any more than Kie and vice versa. But sometimes Kie wishes she could have grown up with the boys the same way you had.

“Probably not. Unless she’s drinking,” Pope says and motions towards the keg they’re near.

“I have an idea,” John B says and fills up a red solo cup. He hands it to JJ. “Why don’t you go offer her a cup.”

JJ snags the cup out of John B’s hand and glares at him. “Fuck off, dude.”

“Do you guys ever see her around at school?” Pope asks the girls.

Sarah shrugs. “Not really. She doesn’t really get a long with my old group of friends.”

Kie rolls her eyes. “No one gets along with your old group of friends.”

Sarah playfully shoves Kie by the shoulder and they laugh.

“I heard she turned down Raymond Easterling a couple weeks ago and he didn’t take it very well,” Pope says, remembering the words he heard from the kids in his class roaming the school hallways.

Raymond goes to Kildcare County High with the Pogues. He’s known to be a trouble maker and a class clown. He works with JJ at the country club. The kid can make JJ laugh sometimes, but he wouldn’t necessarily say he likes him all that much. He can be an arrogant asshole with an ego bigger than it should be.

“She turns down everybody,” Sarah says. “Some people at my school call her ‘The Heart Sucker’ because she can pull people in with the snap of her fingers and break their heart just as quickly.”

Something stirred in the pit of JJ’s stomach.

“Hey! Where you going?” John B calls out to JJ who’s making his way deeper into the sea of people on the beach.

“Taking advantage of a good boneyard party, my friend,” JJ calls back and slugs the rest of his beer. Looking left and right, he searches for the blonde he had eyes on earlier. Because right now, he needed a distraction.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The party starts to die down a little after midnight. Some people leave to find another party, some are passed out in the back of their cars, and others had already found what they were looking for - someone to leave with.

The boneyard party wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be. You had found a couple of kids from your school who were nice enough to make small talk with you while Andre left to find a guy named Devon, a Touron he’s been talking to who’s renting for the entire summer.

Now you’re waiting for Andre to come back so the two of you can walk home. You find comfort under a slanted palm tree towards the back of the beach, scrolling through random apps on your phone to pass the time.

“Y/N?” You look up from you phone and smile when you see your former best friend inching closer to you, squinting in the dark to see if it’s really you.

“Maybank? What are you still doing here?” You stand up and pat the sand off your hands on you thighs.

Your heart skips a beat in your chest when you look at him. He’s beautiful. Lucious blonde hair, perfectly tanned skin, piercing blue eyes. You always knew JJ was going to grow up to be gorgeous. He was cute when he was younger. At least you always thought so.

“I was just leaving, but I thought I saw you sitting here and wanted to make sure you were all right.” He knows it’s not like you to stay this late at a party, especially all by yourself. When he first saw you sitting there, he didn’t know if he should say something. Mostly due to nerves of seeing you again. But the other Pogues had already left and he didn’t trust anyone else at the party to be near you alone late at night. It didn’t matter if you were sober or not.

“Aw. Was JJ Maybank worried about me?” You tease. Talking to him felt easy. As if you never stopped being friends. A few years ago, you and JJ had the best banter. Despite constantly bickering back and forth, John B always swore the two of you would get married one day. The two of you just always clicked like a natural connection. And even now, when only seeing each other every now and then for a few minutes at a time, it felt normal. You smirk when JJ rolls his eyes. “I’m kidding. Yeah, I’m okay. Just waiting for my friend to come back from his little rendezvous,” You say.

JJ nods. “Did you have a good time? I feel like I never you see at these things.”

“Yeah. Parties aren’t really my thing. But Andre was nervous to meet this guy he’s been talking to for a little while so I came for moral support.”

“Looks like he didn’t need much of the support.”

You shrug. “It’s better that way, anyway. I don’t mind waiting for him. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Did you have a good time tonight? I hear your quite the ladies’ man at these things.”

“Come on, Sparky. You know better than to believe everything you hear.”

Your face lights up at the mention of your old nickname. You use to always be busting out the seams with energy. On days where the boys just wanted to chill and play video games, you would drag them to the park for a game of kick ball. Or when they wanted to sleep in after a long week, you showed up at 8 am to drag them out of bed to catch the morning waves. So one day JJ started calling you Sparky, and it stuck with the rest of your little gang. You always pretended to hate it, but secretly you loved it.

“Oh I don’t believe everything I hear. I do, however, believe what I see. And your arm around that tall blonde in the little black dress looked quite convincing.”

You first saw JJ at the party when he was making his way to the pretty girl by the water. Your teeth involuntarily clenched and there was a twisted feeling in your stomach you couldn’t shake whenever you looked at them.

In that instant, JJ felt grateful for the dark sky. He felt the rush of heat rise up his neck to his cheeks before he could stop it. He knew the motivation to see that girl was because of you. He just wished you never saw it. But he didn’t know why.

“I walked her home. She wasn’t my type,” JJ plays it off.

“I didn’t realize you had a type,” You giggle, but a small part felt relieved to hear this. “So what is it? Your type?”

Hybrids with a Pogue attitude, bright smile, beautiful eyes, and a mouth that could make any sailor turn around, JJ thought.

“I don’t know. Haven’t figured it out yet.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Well, when you figure it out let me know.”

“Why? So you can transform into my ideal girl?” He teases.

Now you’re the one thankful for the dark sky. “In your dreams, Maybank. But so far, I do have the perfect wing-woman track record, so if you needed help -”

“I don’t think I need any help in that department. Thank you very much.”

You throw your hands up in fake surrender. “Ooo. Touchy subject.”

JJ rolls his eyes at the same time your phone pings with a text message. You pull it out of your shorts pocket and open the text from Andre, telling you to leave without him because he’s gonna stay out late with Devon and won’t know what time he’s going to be done.

“Everything all right?” JJ says, watching you read the message.

You lock your phone and stuff it in your back pocket again. “Like I said. Perfect wing-woman track record.”

“That was Andre?”

“Yeah. He’s most likely not coming home tonight.”

“Lucky bastard.”

“At least one of us is,” You joke.

JJ’s grin slightly falters but you don’t catch it. You have no idea how much he wishes the two of you could be equally as lucky. Together.

“Well, I should probably go,” You say and bend down to grab your flip flops.

“Let me walk you home,” JJ offers.

“Oh no. It’s okay -”

“You’re cute. It’s wasn’t up for debate. I’m not letting you walk back by yourself.”

You scoff lightly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Just humor me.”

You roll your eyes and smirk but choose not to argue. In fact, you’re excited to spend more time with JJ. It’s been so long.

“Fine.”

“And here I thought you might’ve grown out of your stubborn phase by now.”

You shove him playfully by the shoulder. “Shut up!”

And just like that, it felt like old times.

#jj fanfiction #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #obx imagine #obx fic #jj maybank one shot

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ppersonna · 4 years

Text

thunder - ksj | m

your voice was the soundtrack of my summer. do you know you're unlike any other? you'll always be my thunder. - thunder, boys like girls

↳ summary- you allow your best friend Jin to take you backpacking once per year. apparently, this year’s outing would be the wettest yet.

↳ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

↳ pairing- kim seokjin x reader

↳ word count- 6k

↳ genre- fluff, tiny angst, smut, comedy

↳ warnings- penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, light dom!jin, light sub!reader, fucking in tents haha ha ha ha, cum play, cum eating, possessive dirty talk

↳ a/n- wow hello! its been so long since i uploaded a fic i almost forgot how to do it! i would like to give you a fic that i’ve had in my storage since march, and one i’m excited to finally finish. i’d be nowhere without @taetaewonderland @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia for hyping me up to post it in the first place. thank u to @shadowsremedy for being my fav beta ily ily ily. enjoy my babes! pls feel free to message me!

“Kim Seokjin, if you got us lost, I’m going to murder you,” you seethed as your pulled your booted foot out of a slick puddle of mud.

“I didn’t get us lost, dear. The map is wrong,” he replied coolly as he twisted the crumpled map from portrait to landscape, and back again. “I’m an excellent navigator, but when the tools I have are faulty…”.

You grumbled, stopping your walk to sit on a fallen log. You sighed audibly at your best friend, still maneuvering in the small clearing in the forest, trying to match the map to where you were. You chanced a look at the sky as you sought to catch your breath and sate your anger. Dark, heavy clouds were forming, the kind that didn’t just indicate a sprinkle but a torrential downpour.

“Shit, Jin. It’s going to storm soon,” you warned.

He stopped his map seeking and glanced at the sky, frown buried deep in his face.

Instantly, as if it never changed, he returned to his bright and cheery demeanor.

“Well! Looks like we should work faster to make it back to camp, huh?”

Seokjin would be excited for an unexpected kink in your plans. The boy was obsessed with “roughing it”. You agreed to one weekend with minimal hiking. Camping, in your opinion, was meant to be spent drunk around a fire eating s’mores and telling scary stories, not walking for miles through nothing but trees, mud, and probably bears.

Camping had never been your favorite hobby, and you allowed Seokjin to take you off trail backpacking once per year. The man looked forward to it, planned it several months in advance, and counted down the days until he stuffed you in his Jeep down a deserted forest highway to the campsite.

Only, Jin never took the “minimal hiking” thing too seriously.

“It’s an easy hike,” he had promised you that morning as you set up camp. “More of a stroll than anything.”

You kicked at the dirt beneath you now, upset you had listened to the dark-haired man’s empty promises.

“How about we just go back the way we came from?” You suggested as you stood up and brushed the dirt off your backside from the log.

“Nonsense,” he sniffed. “I’ve got it right here. We can take this trail,” he gestured at a clearing through the trees, “for about a mile, turn left at the open valley, and we’ll be back at camp two miles after that!” He proclaimed his findings as if it were so easy, so obvious.

“Great, three miles of hiking. After we’ve already done four, at least.”

“Yes, my ever-positive sunshine, you should be happy I found us a shortcut.” He patted your head and smiled at you as he adjusted your backpack strap that was sliding off your shoulders. He lingered, eyes on you and your lips for just a fraction too long, before he turned and began leading you through the forest.

Your heart was racing, unrelated to the elevation or the hike.

You gave in so easily to Jin not because he was your best friend since childhood, but also because he was the man you were hopelessly in love with.

You’d been smitten with the older boy since your senior year of high school, when he jokingly asked you to prom and you realized you wanted Seokjin courting you to be a regular occurrence.

You stayed by his side through it all, all girlfriends and breakups. It hurt to watch him with another, but maintaining his friendship was more important than anything else and you weren’t about to lose him to a crush that you could easily just avoid.

Seokjin was attached to your hip, a fact your friends never let you live down. They were relentless in encouraging you two to be alone, and for you to admit your feelings to him. They told you they were sure he would reciprocate it.

Unbeknownst to them, you had admitted it.

You and Jin once got messy drunk on the floor of your apartment, where you slithered up into his lap and whispered your secret devotion to your best friend. Seokjin merely laughed and kissed your nose. You were so embarrassed and rejected you never brought it up again. Best to leave it be, rather than bring a 15 year friendship to a screeching halt.

So—you valiantly stood by him as his best friend and confidante. You were there when he excitedly told you about his new girlfriend, or when he called you crying over their breakup. Your heart twinged at both; you wanted to be the reason for his excitement and the balm to his wounded heart.

You allowed Seokjin to take you on all his wild adventures. Like now—traipsing through the forest with no direction in sight, because you would have done nearly anything for the boy.

A crack of thunder shook you from your thoughts and you jumped at the sudden sound.

“Ah, so cute,” he smiled at you, “still afraid of thunder?”

You blushed and pouted. “It just surprised me, is all.”

He smirked as if to say he didn’t believe you and nodded. “We should get a move on, don’t want to get caught in the rain.”

You shivered at the thought. It was already cool in the forest; the trees providing enough coverage it locked out any sun, if there had been any. You quickly moved in step behind your best friend. It only took a few minutes of silence before the telltale pitter patter of droplets on leaves began. A fat raindrop landed on your forehead.

“Fuck,” you groaned. “It’s starting.”

“I know,” Jin suddenly looked worried, his confident demeanor cracking. He looked back at you and tightened the straps on his backpack.

“Let’s run?”

You were powerless to deny any request from him. Plus, you didn’t really feel like getting drenched.

You adjusted your own backpack and took off, running through the quickly dampening forest beside Seokjin.

The rain came in a downpour. It hit you hard, blurring your vision. Seokjin slipped his hand into yours, not wanting to lose you in the storm. You pushed your legs in time with his, jumping around fell logs and rocks and skipping large puddles.

You were drenched as Seokjin pulled you into a makeshift canopy of rocks, a momentary pause from the storm to catch your breath. Your hair was soaking wet, as if freshly showered. Seokjin’s hair stuck to his face, and you smiled as he looked at you with concern. It only took a moment until you were both bursting with laughter, finding humor at the moment.

It was something you loved about Seokjin. He always knew how to make you laugh in times it seemed impossible.

“This sucks,” you spoke through your joyful laughter. He nodded in agreement.

“I think we’re almost back. We need to turn soon, and then we’ve got about two more miles. You ready?”

You agreed and pushed back the slick hair in your eyes, before doing the same for him. His eyes sparkled. You didn’t know what it meant.

In an instant, you were running again. The backpack bounced against your back and rain pounded your body. The things you did for Kim Seokjin. You were whipped, and you knew it.

The trail seemed like it went on forever. You both became so tired of running that you slowed and trudged slowly through mud as rain pelted you, accepting your fate of soaking to the bone. You were sure you had never been this drenched in your life. Your clothes were stuck to your body and dripping down into your shoes and socks. Your teeth chattered in the breeze—it felt as if the wind whipped right through you. The sky rumbled again, as if warning you to hurry lest it dump more rain on you.

Seokjin was always the caring companion. He rubbed your shoulders and arms to warm them up and promised a roaring fire. You hated how much it made your heart burst.

You were very much looking forward to your one-man tent, stocked with a sleeping bag and blankets. You could strip down and dry off and slip into the warmth of your own personal nest.

Seokjin waxed poetic about his own spacious tent—a lofty family sized one, and how he made sure he brought his sleeping bag along with 8 thick blankets, and how he couldn’t wait to snuggle down into his own. Seokjin was the picture of preparedness. He even kept a locking box full of snacks in his tent because the boy was a foodie and couldn’t survive without the treats. It came in handy.

“What would you do if we were stuck out here forever?” You posed to your best friend, curious about his response and desperate to pass the time as you hiked.

“Well,” he thought aloud. “I’d miss the guys. But I’d be happy to be stuck out here with you.”

Your cheeks flushed.

“You wouldn’t miss, ah—what’s her name? Miya?”

Seokjin shrugged. “She’s fun. She’s not you, though.”

You couldn’t help but grumble internally. She was good enough to date, and you weren’t. She was different in some respect.

“Are things not going well with her?” You asked, secretly hoping they weren’t.

“It’s fine. She’s nice and all,” he sighed. “Just, there’s no spark there, you know?”

You knew all too well. Any man you tried to date paled compared to your best friend, and the fireworks behind your every heartbeat when you were near him.

“What about you?” He was peering into your eyes and into what felt like your soul. “You and Jungkook sure seem cozy.” His tone sounded annoyed, sarcastic even.

You couldn’t help but bark a laugh.

“Oh god, no,” you shook your soggy head. “Not my type. We’re good friends and that’s it. Plus, I’m sure he’s into Jimin.”

Seokjin shrugged again. “You sit on his lap and cuddle up to him all the time…”

“Are you jealous?” You smirked, nudging the man. Please, god, please be jealous.

“N-No!” He was sharp. “I’m not.”

Ouch.

You remained silent, eyes downcast at your muddy boots as you walked alongside the man.

“Sorry,” he mumbled after a beat of silence.

“Don’t worry about it, Seokjin. I got it—loud and clear.”

Seokjin looked hurt, a wave of dissatisfaction crossing his features. He wanted to say something, mouth opening to continue his apology. You ignored it wholly. He knew your feelings. There was no way he couldn’t remember that night. You pushed ahead of the man, walking in front of him to avoid his pained gaze and likely hurried apology.

The light of day was leaving. Everything around you was steadily getting darker, and the rain showed no sign of giving up. You silently begged to be back to the safety of your camp soon, lest you become walking mountain lion bait.

“There’s camp!” Seokjin finally pointed and ran through the rain ahead of you.

“Oh thank fuck,” you sighed, feeling as if it lifted a weight from your shoulders. You couldn’t wait to strip out of your soaking clothes and slither into your blankets.

“Oh shit,” Seokjin whispered, stopping where he stood. You followed his gaze, concerned about what stopped the boy so quickly.

Your tent was ripped open, the insides of it exposed to the wind and rain. Everything you owned was soaking wet. You had set it up in a clearing with not too many trees above it, and it appeared the lack of protection against the wind and rain tore the poor fabric to shreds.

A worn-out and distraught sob left your lips.

“No!”

You ran to the tent and nearly cried. Fortunately, beyond just being soaking wet and useless for the night, everything was intact. There was only no warmth to be had. No warm clothes to change into. Nothing.

“What the fuck am I going to do?!”

Seokjin placed a hand on your shoulder.

“You can share with me?” He sounded hopeful. “We can hang your clothes to dry and when the storm passes, we can build a fire and let your tent air out. But you should probably sleep in my tent tonight.”

You bit your lip. You had slept with Seokjin in more beds than you could count, always being forced to share a bed as the designated ‘best friends who don’t care’. And it was never easy for you. You always woke up with the delicious scent of his cologne and shampoo, and your body curled around his. His hardness would always be pressed up against you, and it took all you had not to wrap your mouth around it to wake him up.

“Yeah, thanks Seokjin,” you breathed. “I’m fucking freezing. And I’m tired. I just want to get some sleep.”

Seokjin slipped his backpack off and pulled yours off your frame. He hung them from a sturdy branch, protected by layers of trees overhead, to let them dry.

“I have some towels in my tent, go on in. You can get dry and hand me your wet clothes to hang. Then you can get in the blankets and I’ll make us something to eat.”

You blushed. Seokjin hadn’t seen you fully naked, ever; at least not since you were toddlers.

Slipping into his blankets while stark nude would be a dream. It was something you fantasized about more than you’d care to admit. But, in the current conditions, being naked and clammy in the blankets next to your best friend who didn’t return any feelings for you sounded more like an awkward moment waiting to happen.

If Seokjin noticed anything, he didn’t show it. He acted as if making you strip in his tent was a normal thing, nothing out of the ordinary.

“I’ll wait out here,” he nodded dutifully.

You slipped out of your muddy boots and socks, and into his tent. It was nice and spacious, and the blankets looked incredibly enticing. It was kind of Seokjin to let you stay with him, even kinder that he would remain soaking wet to make you something to eat. Your body felt so worn out and drained, and you were sure he did too.

You peeled the wet clothing off of you, every bit, before sticking your head out the door and handing him the clothes.

“Don’t worry about food, okay? You should get dry too.”

He wrinkled his forehead.

“You sure?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“I’m sure. Plus, we have your snacks.”

“Ah, good thinking,” he shot his finger guns at you. “I’ll be there in a minute, then. Hand me a towel and I’ll get undressed out here.”

You shyly handed him a towel, now very aware that you and Seokjin would be in the same tent—naked. The thought thrilled you as much as it scared you.

It didn’t take long to burrow yourself into his freshly made bed roll, sliding into the neat layers. Seokjin was nearly military in his routine and order. Everything was always tucked, pressed, and laid down perfectly.

Your body wracked with shivers and chills—the blankets and sleeping bag were cold from the ambient air outside. You folded yourself together in a fetal position to maintain some warmth. It felt good to lie down on the soft bed mat, but the blankets were doing nothing to provide warmth.

The sound of the zipper opening the front door flap of the tent made you shake harder. You could feel the wind blow through the opening now. The sound of the storm was loud, and you were grateful for the heavy tarp covering Seokjin’s tent. It provided some respite from the wind and kept all water off the tent. At least Seokjin had been smart in his setup. You ignored the man’s suggestions to set up better, and you were fully regretting it now.

Seokjin had the towel wrapped around his waist and stepped about the tent easily. He dabbed at his upper body with a smaller towel from his suitcase and rubbed his hair dry. The normally perfectly coiffed head was now static-y and sticking up wildly. It would have made you laugh if you weren’t so cold.

Seokjin moved around you and slid into the blankets, leaving a large space between you, before he threw the towel around his waist onto the floor. He was naked now; you noted internally. You both were. A shiver ran down your spine, unrelated to the relentless chill.

It was silent. All you could hear was the beating of the rain on the tarp and your teeth chattering as you shivered.

Seokjin stole a look at you, finally, and noticed your position, holding yourself to build warmth.

“Shit, are you okay?” He asked.

“I’m j-j-just col-l-ld,” you whispered. “And t-t-tired.”

Seokjin didn’t reply, but you heard the scratching sound of a moving sleeping bag and rustling of blankets and suddenly felt a very warm, very naked body pressed against you. It was blissful, and you moaned out loud at the feel of him spooning you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. You didn’t know what for, and couldn’t bring yourself to reply.

You burrowed yourself down into his warmth and felt his arms wrap around you, securing you against him. He radiated heat. He felt like heaven. Your eyes closed—he had you feeling like you had stepped into a delicious sauna.

Seokjin’s muscular arms hadn’t moved an inch since they wrapped around you, but now his hands slowly rubbed at your torso, warming you everywhere his hand dragged. It felt electrifying and your body relaxed easily under his delicate fingertips.

It started out innocent, rubbing along your stomach and side to warm you further. But his hand began straying north, reaching the crest of your breasts. Your breath hitched as he rubbed over the cold swells. Your nipples were hard from the chill and pebbled even further with the touch of his hands. It made a gasp stick in your throat.

His lips touched your neck, lightly. They were warm too. It seemed his entire body was twenty degrees warmer than your own, and every touch felt like a raging flame. His hands continued rubbing along your breasts as he laved and sucked.

at the column of your throat.

As instantly as it began, Seokjin stopped. His hands hovered above your breasts.

He pressed kisses to your neck and face. “We should sleep, babe,” he sighed.

You wanted to protest, to push him further, to take care of what he started, but you couldn’t find the energy. Seokjin’s warmth matched with the comfort of his bedroll, and the soothing rise and fall of his breath was lulling you into sleep. Even though it was still early evening, the hike and the run back to safety took it all out of you.

Seokjin’s arms felt like safety. He secured them around you, slipping just underneath your breasts where his thumb could trace alongside the bottom as you easily succumbed to sleep.

It was still dark when you woke.

The rain was still coming down, light this time. It sounded relaxing, soothing. Seokjin was still spooning you, sleeping soundly behind you. You twisted in his grasp to gaze at him.

His hair was dry now, sticking out randomly about his pillow. You were sure if he saw it he’d panic, normally so precise with his looks. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep, none of his chaotic energy and dramatic charisma.

You loved every facet of Seokjin. You loved the flamboyance, the sensitivity, the deep compassion for his friends.

You turned around, as gently and quietly as you could, and pressed a hand to his cheek—rubbing at the warm and soft flesh. He sighed softly in his sleep, moving against his pillow. An eye cracked open, and he stared at you.

“Why are you awake?” He whispered, his voice gentle. “It’s still dark.”

He was confused, and the look that graced his features was adorable. You wanted to photograph it and frame it, make it the lock screen of your phone.

You shook your head.

“Don’t know.”

Seokjin’s hand rubbed at your shoulder, then up to your face. He tucked your hair behind your ear and smiled at you.

“You look so cute in the moonlight.”

You closed your eyes, letting his compliment wash over you. You couldn’t find the words to reply. You let him continue caressing your cheek, feeling as if you were living a fantasy where Seokjin touched you like a lover.

You were so close to him, chest pressing against his own. Something about the quiet storm, the dark tent, had you disregarding any embarrassment you should have felt pressing your naked tits to the man's chest, but the spell of the forest had you pressing closer. Your lips were inches apart, and you could feel his breath on your lips.

The feel of Seokjin’s lips pressing against yours was light, but felt as if all the fireworks in the world exploded behind your eyes and within your belly. It started sweet, gentle. You kissed him like you always wanted to, full of unrequited love and unwavering desire. Your arms slithered around his neck, pulling him even closer against you.

The kiss turned deeper, mouths opening to allow the passage of tongues. He sought into your mouth, caressing yours with his own, pouring what felt like his very spirit into you. His hand left your back and slid up your sides to press against your breast.

“Seokjin,” you murmured, feeling your brain swirl headily. “Feels good.”

He didn’t reply, only kept kissing at your neck and pinching gently at your hardened nipples. It made you cry out, gaping at the slight pain.

“If you want me to stop, tell me.”

His words were gentle. His hands stilled, stopping all ministrations against you.

Your breath was hard and shaky, matching the erratic beat of your heart in your ribcage. Your unrequited crush of years was now roaming your body, touching you as a lover rather than a friend.

“Please, don’t stop.”

He was on you again, now bloodthirsty for any part of your skin to touch. He tugged at your nipples, suckled up your neck to kiss and lick at the shell of your ears. You pressed against him, gasping at the feel of his now stiff cock. He circled his hips, relishing in the feel of you against him. You wondered how he would feel inside you. He was thick and long—it would be a stretch, and a most delicious and welcome one.

He pressed you back against the pillow, hovering over your body as he kissed down your neck and sucked at the pressure points there. A pleasured sigh passed through your open lips, reveling in the feel of him on your skin. It was something you dreamed about often. It felt unreal to finally have it.

You were on display for him, and his eyes raked over you as if you were a Dalí in the Louvre. His hands slid up to cup your breasts, and you tilted your head back to moan. You didn’t care at all about how you looked, how this might be awkward in the next few hours. You cared only about feeling Seokjin within you, getting him off, succumbing to your own pleasure wrought by his hands and his cock.

“Fuck, babe,” he sighed. “Wanted this for a while.”

“Me too,” you gasped as he slid a finger down to your core, circling faintly over your slick folds.

“Have you?”

“Seokjin, I’ve been in love with you since high school.”

Seokjin closed his eyes and smiled, breathing through his nose in contentment.

“You weren’t just saying that when you were drunk then.”

You shook your head, and Seokjin opened his eyes to peer at you.

“No, Seokjin,” you whispered needily, his finger still so torturously close to your clit. “I meant it.”

He leaned down with a smile and planted gentle kisses on your cheeks, adoring and gentle.

“I’ve been in love with you too. I thought you were just drunk. I never acted on it because I didn’t want to get my heart broken.”

He pulled up and allowed his free hand to cup your cheek.

“I’m going to fuck you now, okay?” He asked. “Like, really fucking hard. You good with that?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. A deep, hearty chuckle passed between both of you, enamored with each other and the situation of being naked and intertwined together, the warmth of your matched confessions surrounding you.

“Fuck me, please,” you begged.

And Seokjin would be loath to deny you.

His teasing finger finally slid into your core, fucking into you with ease from your slick walls. You gasped at the welcome intrusion, eyes fluttering closed as he began a slight pace and watched the way you fell apart.

“So pretty,” he whispered. “So fucking pretty.”

He slipped another finger in, scissoring them open as he worked at you. Your legs trembled, and it made the older man smirk.

“Look at you,” he praised. “So easily turned into a *gushing* puddle for me.”

You nodded pathetically, back arching as he added yet another finger and pressed at the spot inside you that had your mind spinning and thoughts erasing.

“Oh—God, Jin!”

As much as Jin wanted to see you get off around his fingers, he was desperate for more. You were finally all his—something he’s wanted since he could remember. All he’s wanted was for you to be his.

He pulled his fingers from inside you and smiled as they came out slicked up with your own essence. He ensured you made eye contact with him, then popped them into his mouth one-by-one, to suck them clean.

It made your mouth nearly fall to the floor as you watched him suck his fingers clean of you. Your body trembled with a need you hadn’t felt before. It was stronger than anything you’d felt before. It was unadulterated desire for Seokjin.

“Mm,” he sighed happily as he pulled the final digit from his mouth. “Delicious, as I thought.”

“Oh, my god,” you gaped. “Jin…,”

The man merely shook his head and smiled, crowding you down and hovering over your lips.

“You’re mine now, you got that?”

His eyes tracked yours, watching your every movement. It took you a moment to swallow your nerves, to regain any ounce of confidence.

“I’ve always been yours, Seokjin.”

He held you down, watching you with a gleam of wonder in his eye, before surging forward and planting his lips onto yours. His tongue dove in instantly, seeking solace in the warmth of your mouth. Allowing him passage was easy, almost natural. Jin’s tongue swirled around your own as your arms slithered around his neck to bring him closer. Kissing Jin felt like everything you’d imagine it would be, and yet like nothing you could have even dreamed.

Jin didn’t just kiss you—he consumed you. He lapped his tongue into your mouth like he couldn’t get close enough to you. His chest pressed against your body and he groaned into your mouth at the feeling of your perky breasts pushing into his own broad chest.

“Baby,” he whispered as he pulled away.

It sounded like a dream—the pet name fell from Jin’s lips so easily, as if it were always meant to be spoken to you.

“You’ve always been the one I wanted,” he breathed as he pressed his lips down your neck. “Always the girl I wanted and could never have.”

“Jin,” you gasped as your fingers carded through his hair. “Jin, you’ve always had me.”

He lifted his head and peered deep into your eyes again, so deep it felt like he was glimpsing into your soul.

“I only want you. No one else.”

It knocked you breathless, and it took a moment for you to refill your lungs before nodding.

“I’m all yours.”

There was acknowledgement in both your admissions. An understanding that there was no more separation of you, and of Jin. That after tonight, it would be a partnership, and the beginnings of something more, something you’ve only dreamt of with the older man.

“Mine,” he whispered, before pressing his lips back to yours.

The kiss was sweet, nearly cloyingly sweet, as his hands cupped your face. He kissed you with every intention, every desperate plea he’s held in his heart for you.

Jin’s length pressed against you—his hips rutting minutely as he kissed you.

“Jin,” you gasped as you pulled away from his lip locked embrace. “Please, I need you.”

Jin’s charming smile spread across his lips, blooming your heart along with it.

“As you wish,” he whispered as he pressed in for another soft kiss..

Instantly, Jin flipped around and switched positions, guiding you to sit atop his hips while he settled down into the mess of blankets and pillows.

“What?” He asked as he noticed your confusion at the sudden mood change, a smirk rising on his puffy lips. “You think I’m gonna let you lay back and make me do all the work?”

There he was, your Seokjin. Never able to keep a comment to himself, regardless of the situation—always working to make you laugh. It made your heart sing.

His hands slid to grip at your hips while you lifted yourself up to hover over his hardened length, lining up the tip to just graze the wetness there.

“You see what you do to me?” You asked with a coy smile. “You see how badly I want you?”

Jin bit his lip, mesmerized by the way your cunt slicked up the head of his cock, desperate to spear into you but holding back.

“Fuck—,” he breathed. “P-Prove it.”

A smirk crossed your features before you took the plunge and allowed his length to slip inside you as you sank to his hips. The intrusion was welcome, and you gaped at the sensation of him plunging deep.

“Oh, my God!” Jin gasped as you had taken him to the hilt. His eyes bulged for a moment before they closed in bliss. “You feel so fucking good.”

You didn’t need to speak. The feeling of Jin’s thick length inside of you was more than enough agreement. He felt so thick, so long, prodding at the spot inside you that had you weak and stretching you wide to make you gasp at the sizzle of pain. After a moment of adjusting to his size, you let your hands fall to his chest as you began to slowly rise and fall and set a pace on his cock.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he whined—eyes wide open and watching you bounce on him. “Shit, this is where you belong.”

You eagerly pinched at your nipples as your pace quickened, nodding at Jin’s encouraging words. Your mouth felt dry, and you felt unable to even vocalize your pleasure beyond your loud sighs and moans.

“Jin,” you breathed.

He nodded, assisting your pace by gripping your hips. He tugged you down, face to face, to rest on his chest while your hips kept their quick speed of enveloping his cock in your tight heat. He let a hand cup the side of your face, the other moving to grip your ass.

“You’re all fucking mine,” he grunted as he thrusted his cock up into you, matching the rhythm of your rise and fall. “Gonna make you feel so fucking good every day, baby.”

You nodded quickly, heartbeat rising as you quickened each pound. Jin’s lips pressed to yours again, this time messier, hotter. He licked into your mouth, desperate for any more of you he could consume.

“Fuck, you drive me fucking crazy,” he said, cock still thrusting deep inside you. “Let me fuck you from behind?”

You didn’t bother replying, simply removing yourself from his body and assuming the position on your hands and knees. Jin scrambled to line up behind you, hand pumping his slick cock as he marveled at the sight of you presented for him.

“Take me, please,” you whispered, turning your head to peer at him with a desperate smile. “Fuck me until I can’t see straight.”

Jin hissed an expletive, before lining himself up in your sodden folds and plunging in without a second thought. Your eyes widened at the new angle, gasping as you felt it hit different areas inside of you that had you squeaking with each hard thrust of his cock.

Jin’s hands gripped your ass, your hips, anywhere he could leave his brutal fingerprints.

“God, you take my cock like a fucking queen,” he gasped as the sound of skin slapping echoed around the tent. “Look at your pussy, so fucking wet for me.”

He marveled at the way his cock plunged deep inside you, then came out covered in your creamy slick.

“You gonna cum for me, baby? You gonna let me claim this pussy with my cum?”

The pleasure was overwhelming—it felt like every nerve ending was lit on fire, and you were a burning fuse about to detonate into a thousand brilliant explosions. Each thrust of Jin’s thickness had you crying for more, moans echoing off the trees outside. You were suddenly thankful you were in the middle of nowhere, allowing you to be loud and needy.

Jin reveled in your desperate sighs and the way your body pushed back against his to match his pace. He knew his end was coming, knew it was going to be short-lived from the start. He’s wanted your body for as long as he could remember, and wanted you in his life as his lover, his girlfriend, more than just what he had been relegated to for so long.

“Mm, baby, you look so good on your knees for me, fuck,” he gasped as his speed increased. “I can’t wait to make you cum on my cock every fucking day, love. This is my pussy now.”

Jin’s possession of your body made you see stars, vision blurring as your cunt tightened its grip around his cock. Jin gasped at the grip and his hips stuttered.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groaned. “I feel you, baby, fuck. Cum for me, angel. Let me feel this tiny little cunt milk me.”

The coil inside you was tightening, pulling tight and making you gasp and scream at the oncoming rush. Jin’s pounding was relentless, making your entire body shake with the anticipation.

Your hand dipped to circle at your clit, the ultimate piece to your end.

The coil snapped, and your cunt pulsated wildly around his cock, vice-grip tight. It felt as if you had been catapulted off into space, vision blurring and all sound indiscernible from the blood rushing in your ears.

Jin’s climax quickly overtook him at the feeling of your delicious heat gripping at his cock. With just a few strokes inside you, his cock pulsed hot stripes of cum within you and painted your channel. Something primal in Seokjin loved that he was within you now, a piece of him deposited inside.

He allowed a few moments to pass to catch his breath, before slowly easing his spent cock from your dripping walls. He groaned as he watched a bit of his seed drip out, and he was careful to collect it on his fingers.

“Come here,” he whispered as he pressed his chest to your back and lifted you upright, sitting on your knees. He presented his fingers to your lips, dripping with your combined slick, and wrapped his free arm around your stomach.

Obediently, you opened your mouth and allowed the man to swirl his cum-coated digits in your mouth. It made your stomach erupt in butterflies, the taste of you and the man you’ve only dreamt about for years now on your tongue.

A crack of thunder shook you from your silent reverie, and Jin removed his fingers from his mouth before wrapping both arms around you and tugging you down to lie face to face on the mused sleeping bags.

“Now, aren’t you glad we did this?” He asked with a chuckle and a kiss to your nose.

You wrinkled your brow and smiled coyly.

“I would have enjoyed it more if you hadn’t gotten us lost.”

Jin pouted and huffed.

“I didn’t get us lost,” he sniffed with indignation. “The map was wrong.”

#bts smut #kim seokjin #seokjin smut #seokjin x reader #ficswithluv #kim seokjin smut #jin smut #bts fan fic #bts imagines #bts fic #bangtanarmynet

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Murder, He Wrote

Part 1

Co-written with @southerngracela

Summary: You’re sent by your asshole boss to do a review of a Celebrity Host Haunted Mansion, hosted by none-other than the arrogant, wild-eye browed actor Lucas Lee, but you’re worried you’ve missed the boat…that is, until at the last minute, an email arrives to say they can let you in on the last admission that night, which just happens to be Halloween… When you arrive, you’re actually kind of excited and intrigued…but it isn’t long until that excitement and intrigue give way to fear when you find yourself in a helpless situation.

Warnings: A creepy house, bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this is a collaboration between myself and the wonderful @southerngracela for @jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House 2020 challenge…and will be a mini-series, with an as of yet undefined number of chapters.

Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

"Y/L/N," your dick editor poked his head into your office rather gruffly. "I'm gonna need that celebrity haunted mansion review on my desk by tomorrow morning. I want to run it ASAP.”

"I can't even get in, not even with a press pass, I've been trying for two weeks, Mick!” you looked at him, your mouth slightly open. You’d told him this countless times at morning briefings. You hadn't even heard back from the organizers about sneaking around the press pass issue and offering an exclusive on the joint, a small fact you kept Mick in the dark about.

"Make it happen." He said simply, before he turned and left.

You glared at his retreating form. What the fuck did he not understand about the situation? Mind you, what did he understand about anything? There was a reason everyone working for him called him Mick The Prick.

There was also a reason he was being extra prickish to you. Earlier in the spring time of the year you’d run an article on Ransom Drysdale- the stuck up, trust fund asshole who had literally gotten away with murder. He’d confessed to murdering his grandfather’s house keeper, attempting to murder his grandfather and then, in a violent showdown with 2 police officers and a private detective present, he’d attempted to murder his grandfather’s nurse, Marta. And he would have succeeded, except the knife he’d used had been a stage prop. It was like some fucked up Murder, She Wrote plot, and when you’d interviewed the real life Jessica Fletcher (in this case the rather charming PI named Benoit Blanc who’d been a character to say the least) it got even more confusing. Ransom had hired Blanc in some elaborate scheme to frame Marta for Harlan’s death to do her out of the inheritance via the Slayer Rule. That had back fired spectacularly when she had unwittingly switched back the vials of medication Drysdale had tampered with, meaning Harlan had truly committed suicide.

The article was supposed to be done showing his side of the story, a way for him to set the record straight, but the more you’d dug and spoken to people surrounding the case, the more you were absolutely convinced of his guilt, not least because he’d been acquitted on the murder and attempted murder charges on technical grounds due to his confession being, allegedly, obtained under duress and without a brief being present. The only thing they’d managed to pin on him was the arson which had burnt the Chief Medical Examiner’s office to the ground, and when his brief had successfully argued mitigating circumstances- he wasn’t of sound mind given the shock surrounding him being cut from his grandfather’s will- he’d basically ended up being released on license.

It was a joke, and that was basically what your article had said. You’d written a scathing attack on how money could basically render you untouchable by the law, highlighting the failures of the Criminal Justice System. At the time, Mick the Prick had been delighted with it, publishing it under your suggested head line “Murder, He Wrote”- ha, go figure, and copies had flown off the shelves, the article online going viral.

And then money had talked once more, and the Drysdale’s had threatened to sue for defamation. That in itself was a joke, as you knew full well his mother, Linda, was only doing it to salvage her own reputation, the same reason she’d worked so hard to find a lawyer to get him off the charges despite the fact she knew full well he was guilty as sin. Mick The Prick had attempted to throw you under the bus spectacularly when the board had come looking for blood, but as editor the buck stopped with him, and he was given a formal warning whilst you were forced to publish a retraction and offer a written apology much to your utter chagrin.

Which was why he was now making your life as hard as possible, and your Investigative Journalism skills, that you’d honed over the last decade; from high school paper, college tribune and now your current employer, over the last 10 years or so since graduation were now being focussed on covering stories about housewives who found Jesus’ face in a slice of toast, or in this case a fucking Celebrity Host Halloween Haunted House review. Whereas you had dominated the first 2 pages once upon a time, you were now lucky if you made it further up than page 11.

With a groan you banged your head on your desk. Why had you not listened to your dad and become a damned teacher instead of a journalist. Dealing with snotty nosed brats would be easier than this.

By the end of your day, you were burning what felt like the midnight oil however it wasn't very late at all. Dark had settled in but it wasn't late by time. Just before you were to log off and leave for the night, a TV dinner and pint of mint chip waiting for you in your freezer (and probably a job search too seeing as you would no doubt be fired tomorrow morning for failing on your deadline) your email pinged on your desktop. You frowned at it, wondering who could possibly be emailing you this late but then you recognized the sender.

It was the reply you'd been waiting on from the organizers from the Celebrity Host Haunted House. Clicking the email open, your eyes scanned the message. The organizer was setting you up with a private tour, TONIGHT. "9 pm," you finished reading aloud, relief flooding your entire body. It meant a long assed, sleepless night whilst you wrote your article, but it was better than the looming threat of unemployment. Plus, on the upside, as it was a charity gig the organizer had pulled out the big guns and the blurb on the email told you that it was to feature none other than Lucas Lee, a once-upon-a-time famous A-List Movie star, who was possibly just as arrogant as Hugh Ransom Drysdale, but you had to give it to him, in the films you’d seen he was actually damned good, and also pretty hot so…every cloud.

Glancing at your clock, you had just enough time to clock out and grab a quick bite at a drive thru on your way. The location was nearly an hour outside the city so you needed to get gone and fast. A quick reply telling the organizer you were on your way was sent out and you grabbed your coat, pulling it on over your sweater dress and were gone.

It took a good hour like you'd estimated and that was with stopping for a quick meal, to reach the address your GPS brought you to. It was creepy even at its first glance so you could only hope this payed off. With a quick swig of your watered down and flat fountain drink, you grabbed your bag and phone, exiting your vehicle and locking it shut. The cool night air bit at your exposed cheeks and you were glad you'd worn your coat and tights.

As you stood, gazing at the dilapidated house you shivered, as though, ice had replaced you spine. The walkway leading up to house was cracked, blood red roses grew wildly in thick batches by the gate and the moonlight cast a ghoulish glow on the house. Vines formed a twisted maze upon the side of the of the house's walls which showed the black decay of neglect, in between which splotches of original paint hinted at the house’s former prosperity. Cobwebs covered the corners of the doors, tiny black spiders threading towards their prey and you gave another shudder, as far as first impressions went, yeah, it was fitting for a Halloween Haunted House tour.

Pulling out your phone, noticing you had no reception (of course you wouldn’t, wasn’t that the cliché?) you took a few photos to use in the article and then gave a little squeak as the door creaked open on its own. Arching your eyebrow slightly, in a manner very much like the man you were here to meet, you strode forward and into the house. Immediately a musty, dank odour crept into your nose. The house was deadly silent except for the intermittent creaks and moans typically associated with a property that age. Black and brown mold dotted the ceiling of the tall hallway you stood in and the windows that framed the door on either side were covered with grime and dirt meaning the calm moonlight struggled to penetrate the darkness in thin thread rays, the main source of light being the open doorway. Sharp shadows roamed around the room and as your eyes adjusted to the dim light you noticed that there was a bright white envelope almost perched on the wooden table to the side of the hall. It was the newest thing in the room, so was obviously there for you.

You crossed over, the heels of your suede boots clicking loudly out in the silence of the hallway, and gently reached out for the envelope. A single word- Start- was written on the front in cursive, looping scrawl, very fitting for a spooky note. Another detail you committed to memory for your write up. You slid your finger into the crook of the envelope and slid it open. Inside was a small, white card, containing a message written in the same writing.

To ensure that you don’t become tomorrow’s big news, In this envelope you’ll find the first of 6 clues Of your super sleuth skills you should be proud, So make sure that you read your answers out loud. As one by one they lead to your ultimate demise. Which may or may not be a scary surprise…

Okay, now you were interested. This wasn’t just a walk through some scary assed, supposedly haunted house where Lucas Lee was no doubt set to jump out at you in some ridiculous disguise. This was a scavenger hunt, and your natural inquisitiveness was piqued. 'This could be fun', you thought as you reached for the next card that was in the envelope, reading the first clue.

I’m tall when I’m young, and I’m short when I’m old. I also give heat but, not enough to prevent cold

You pondered for a second, heat was leading you to think of a fire, and they certainly grew shorter with time, well eventually when they burnt out…but then again, the longer they went the hotter they got, and they certainly prevented the cold. Scanning the hallway for anything that might fit the description, your eyes flicked up to the ceiling which held an elaborate, but tarnished candelabra style chandelier. And then it hit you. Tall when young, short when old.

“Candle…” you spoke “The answer is Candle…”

At that the door leading to the outside slammed shut behind you, and you gave an involuntary scream as the dominant source of light was sealed off. You spun round to look at it, and then your scream turned in to a laugh as you shook your head, for an Investigative Reporter you prided yourselves on steely nerves but so far that was twice this adventure had caught you off guard.

Turning back round, you then spotted that the door at the end of the hall was open, and you could clearly make out a Jack-o-Lantern looking at you, the candle inside flickering. Its face was creepy, really creepy. The nose and eyes were harsh triangles and the grotesque, twisted smile it sported was constructed of sharp, jagged teeth. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. You may have had no service, but the flashlight was working. Keeping the light held in front of you so you could watch your step on the cracked tiles of the hall, you made your way towards the lantern and found yourself in a large, run down kitchen. The lantern and your flash-light provided the only light in the room as the windows were all overshadowed by gnarly trees, their branches every so often scratching the glass as they swayed slightly in the wind outside. The only other sound to be heard was the drip, drip of the faucet in the porcelain Belfast sink.

A closer look revealed the discoloration of the water, a brownish concoction as it swirled down the plug. There was an envelope on the side of the counter by the lantern and as you crossed towards it, a movement in your peripheral made you spin round only to see a lone mouse scuttling away across the dirty wooden floor. You placed your phone down, flash-light up causing it to light up an area of the Artex plaster ceiling, and picked up the envelope, tearing it open to find your next clue

Mr Jack-o-Lantern lights the night His eerie face is shining bright The ????? that shaped him lies around And holds your next clue safe and sound

“Oh come on…” you muttered, “That’ ones obvious. Knife, the answer is knife…” You picked up your phone and shone it around the various surfaces of the kitchen and your eyes honed in on a wooden knife block containing a solitary knife. You crossed the room towards it and as you closed in on it, you noticed that the handle of the knife was an ornate silver filigree. It was no ordinary kitchen knife and as you pulled it form the block you realised it was in fact a dagger, antique by the looks of things. The blade was curved slightly, reaching a sharp point, the silver tarnished. But the more you looked at it, the more you suddenly became horribly aware that it wasn’t merely a dullness of colour at all. It was blood.

“Dramatic…” you mumbled, and with a sigh you then realised there was no clue attached to it. Was this a distraction? A decoy? You were just about to stat ransacking drawers to find the actual knife you needed, when you glanced back at the block the dagger had been held in and noticed a flash of white peeking from underneath. Picking it up and moving it aside you smiled as you saw the same cursive writing, spelling out the word three. Seeing as you might as well play along, you used the dagger to slit the envelope open, tossing it back down on the counter as you read the next clue.

Many a Child on me they may play Any time be it night or day. My surface is hard, on it you can knock I have many keys, but can’t open a single lock…

“What has keys but doesn't open a lock?" You pondered aloud. Adjusting your cross-body strap, you sigh. Then the answer came to you, "a piano."

You fell silent, your mind racing to how the hell you were going to find a piano in this decrepit and yet enormous house. Then, your ears heard it. The subtle note from deep inside the house. It was a single key. But now that wasn't your concern, no, it wasn't the mice or the bugs or even the brown water. Your heart raced at the notion that someone was in fact in the house with you.

"Alright, Lee, you were always one for a flare of the dramatics, let's see what you've got."

Step by step you followed the note that chimed every few steps and you found yourself beginning to wonder if it was a recording or if someone were really playing it, timing their play with the sound of your boots over the rotting floor. You wound your way through the narrow hall, ancient wall paper peeling from its tack, mastick and plaster falling away to reveal studs in places.

Finally, to your left you heard the key loud and clear. It was in that room. Steeling yourself for a possible encounter, you carefully pushed the sliding door away from its hinge. Your booted feet traipsed across the brittle carpet, dust swirling in the air in front of your face. Cobwebs adorned many of the surfaces and there were dirty white sheets covering the various pieces of furniture in the room. Apart from, that is, the large ornate grand piano that sat in the middle of the room.

The stool in front of it suddenly jolted back and tilted toward you, making you scream at the gracious invitation by an as of yet invisible host.

“Get a grip Y/N” you mumbled to yourself. You were surprised to find just how much this place was starting to set your nerves on edge. You took a deep breath, the pounding of blood in your ears began to quiet and you took a look around the room. There was no one in there with you, you were alone.

With slow, deliberate steps you moved towards the piano, your eyes sweeping over the mahogany surface, searching for an envelope with the next clue, but there was none to be found. The surface of the piano was thick with dust and grime, but as you scanned over it you suddenly stopped. On one of the white keys the dust was disturbed, as if it had been wiped away and you instantly realised that had to be the key that your so far elusive host must have been playing. You paused, biting at the nail on your thumb of you right hand, before you reached out with your left and tapped the key. The melodic note rang around the room, clearly, echoing in the silence and for some reason you were taken back to a part of the article you had been thinking about earlier that day, and how Detective Blanc had told you that he had ‘played a key’ during the various family interviews ‘to make my point without interruption’. It didn’t pass you by how fitting that actually was at that moment but you didn’t have much time to reflect on it, as you heard a creak and a grinding noise and you spun to your left to see a panel in the wall sliding open. It made you jump slightly, but this time you didn’t scream.

Not for the first time, you had to admire the effort Lucas was going to here. It was clear he had a flare for the dramatic, anyone could see that from his films and interviews but this was pretty damned good. It was making you wonder how he was doing it. Was he somewhere watching, pressing buttons to enact the various parts of his show? Instinctively you glanced up, looking for a camera or something you were being monitored by but you found no evidence of anything.

“Well, in for a penny…” you muttered, crossing towards the small hatch. It was just wide enough for you to get your hand into, but you really didn’t want to. You grabbed your torch and shone it into the hole, finding nothing but the envelope so deciding it was safe you reached in and pulled it out.

Sometimes coloured, sometimes plain sometimes frosted, sometimes stain Be you short or thin, or fat or tall, this simple invention, lets you look right through a wall

You pondered for a moment, before the answer came to you. Fairly quickly you might add. Feeling a little smug you smiled and cleared your throat.

“Window. It’s a window.”

Usually, at that point, something happened to point your attention to the place you should be looking but this time, there was nothing. Instinctively you looked out of the one on the wall by the piano, but as you stared at nothing but the darkness outside you realised that was too obvious. Just then your ears picked up a sound you couldn’t quite figure out, but it was familiar all the same. And then it came to you, it was the familiar click and clack of a skateboard, the wheels gliding over the brittle old floor and you span round in the direction it was coming from to see a window you hadn’t noticed before, this one was an ornate, stained glass window which bore some kind of flower design that faced directly out into the hall.

He passed by slower than a flash but just enough to allow you to catch only a glimpse. You audibly gasped, your breath coming in a sharp intake of fright, because until then you had been alone on this chase. But it appeared you dramatic host had finally come out to play. He was merely a shadow, bulky in frame, tall and dressed all in black as he moved past but it was enough to puzzle you. You didn’t remember Lucas being that broad, or tall. With a frown you ran into the hall to catch him but saw nothing, and heard nothing, the only thing to indicate he had been there was a faint smell of the cedar and amber of what you assumed to be cologne.

You paced quickly down the hall in the direction the figure had gone but as you passed the stairwell the light flickered on, instantly attracting your attention. You’d only briefly noticed the ornate staircase before, but with the lack of light you certainly hadn’t noticed the writing on the wall, dripping in fresh paint. Swallowing, as you mouth suddenly felt dry with fear you stepped onto the first stair, and as soon as you did you were plunged into almost complete black. Letting out a shriek as, once again, he’d managed to get the drop on you, you shook your head and reached for your phone, taking another few steps up so you were level with the next clue which you read aloud.

“Tonight is not all fright and fear, a trick or treat is waiting near, the bedroom holds a sweet surprise, there solve the clue to claim your prize.” You bit your lip and looked up at the top of the stairs, wondering when someone was going to jump out at you. Taking a deep breath, you made your way up, cringing at each creak your feet caused on the old warped wood, but it didn’t sway your determination to make it to your destination.

Halfway up, a shadow flickered at the corner of your vision at the top on the landing and you froze, your mouth going dry once more. As you stood there, shining your light into the dark you caught the same scent from moments ago lingering in the air only this time it was stronger, far more powerful and you were able to denote even more of the notes within. Alongside the amber and cedar your heightened senses picked up deep, earthy, sandalwood notes with a hint of citrus in the background. And it was familiar for reasons beyond the fact you’d smelt it down stairs. But, as you’d surmised earlier, it was a cologne. Probably one worn by a few people you knew.

Yes that was it.

“Jesus Christ Y/N what has gotten into you?” You rolled your eyes and continued up the stairs, clearly your ‘Celebrity Host’ was once more nearby.

You cautiously got to the top of the stairs and glanced around. Nothing. So turning to your left you entered the first room you found on the hall. It was empty bar a creepy looking doll that had been separated from its head which lay about a foot to the right. As you looked around the room, the wind intensified outside, the rustling of the leaves and branches became louder, as did the creaking of the house…and then you gulped, as you realised it wasn’t just the house that was creaking. In the corner of the room, the little chair had begun to rock, slowly. Blowing out a breath and shaking your head, you looked around at the thin strips of wallpaper which showed little trucks. Crayon markings scrambled upon the wall where wallpaper used to stick but other than that there was nothing in there bar some pretty good theatrics. You had to hand it to Lee, the creepy feel was fantastic and you were going to give him one hell of a write up for this. You took a while longer to take in the detail, smiling to yourself before you closed the door and headed to the one over the hallway.

This room was a little lighter thanks to a lamp which stood on a nightstand. It wasn’t bright, by any means, but it was enough so that you could clearly see the bed in the middle of the room. And there, placed by the pillows was a thin box. On unsteady legs, you shuffled slowly towards the bed, the box before you making you quiver, your insides churning. A shaky hand tilted the lid open slowly, afraid something would pounce in a sneak attack. You shut your eyes ready to protect them in case a bat or bugs flew at you and when nothing happened, you opened them slowly and inspected the boxes contents. There was no envelope this time, just copy of a newspaper. Your newspaper. And you felt your blood run cold as you recognise the bold headline across the top. Murder, He Wrote: A twisted tale of Inheritance, Crime and Exoneration "Drysdale," you whispered in realization. But now, while you were well aware of what the article meant and who it was referring to, your brain shut down processing how on earth Lucas Lee and Ransom could possibly be connected. Your breathing deepened and you moved to pick up the article, but then the lid to the box caught your eye and you froze, for on the inside of the lid was another clue, only this one was a straight forward question which was spelled out using cut-out letters from the newspaper in question.

I’m light as a feather, yet the strongest person can’t hold me for five minutes. What am I?

You froze, for the answer was simple. Breath. And that was it, you needed to get out. You started to back away from the bed, but before you had so much as made it 3 steps you collided with something hard. A forceful arm across your front pinned you to a firm and broad chest that engulfed your frame while a cloth with a distinct smell and cool moisture covered your airways.

"Surprise" The voice in your ear, calm, deep and known, was all you heard before nothing consumed you.

*****

When Y/N went limp in his arms, Ransom laid her across the bed only leaving the room to hurriedly cover his tracks, blowing out candles and removing any trace of her that had been in the house. His time as his grandfather's research assistant gave him far more experience than it should have. When he returned to the bedroom she was still out cold but light as a feather as he carried her downstairs and out the back door to the awaiting SUV, smug that his plan had gone so well.

But then, didn’t everything for him? He was Ransom Drysdale, and he was fucking untouchable.

He drove away from the scene of his new crime towards the city, driving through the dead of night, on the beltway, and continued twenty minutes outside downtown Boston before pulling into the garage of a large red cedar and quartzite home. He killed the engine and closed the garage door, pulling Y/N from the seat she was slumped in when it was clear to do so.

He couldn't be seen, he wouldn't be seen. He carried her inside the spacious home, his boots tapping heavily against the dark marble floor of the kitchen and finally the lush carpeted staircase that wound down into the basement.

This is where he laid her, in the basement, on a bed, but not just any bed, the one that would now become hers. He adjusted the lighting in the space, low enough not to disturb her, but bright enough to give the room a glow so he could finish what he'd set out to do. In the shock of the struggle in the bedroom, she’d dropped her phone and he’d made sure to smash it long before he left the haunted house, making sure there'd be no device to track her. He'd already disposed of her car while she was playing his little game, every loose end as far as he could see was tied up.

And now she was all his.

He brushed the hair away from Y/N’s face where it had fallen over her eyes. With gloved hands he manoeuvred her undone, black woollen coat off her body, leaving her in the bottle green turtle neck sweater dress and thick tights she was wearing before he tossed it over the chair in the corner of the room and then undid the zips on her brown suede knee high boots. He dropped them to the floor, kicking them towards the same corner with the equal carelessness he’d shown her coat. With a final meticulous movement he rearranged her on the bed, so he’d appear more comfortable and just before he left the room, he wrapped the cool, metallic cuff around the ankle. It locked in place with a clink and with a final glance at her still unconscious form, he turned and exited the room, the door latching shut and with the snap of the deadbolt he locked her in.

*****

Your head pounded, your nose burned and your mouth felt dry with the faintest taste of something foul lingering as you swallowed. The light was low but still your eyes ached. You tried to decipher exactly what the hell had happened to you while you got your bearings. You tried to sit up but your body felt heavy, the soft bed you now realized you were lying on was not your own. Your breathing rapidly increased as you started to move in fear but a clink caused a screech to escape your throat. You felt the weight of the cuff around your ankle and a full panic set it.

Your night flashed quickly through your glutamate and adrenaline flooded brain

You remembered getting the email from the Haunted Mansion supposedly hosted by Lucas Lee. You had arrived and were sent on what you thought was a fun and exhilarating maze littered with clues and riddles and then you remembered the last piece of the puzzle. You gasped as you remembered how his breath felt hot on your skin and how his voice registered in your mind.

"Drysdale," you repeated the last word you had spoken in a shaky, frightful voice. "No."

Rage and fear collided in your chest as you screamed out the only thing you could think of, "HELP!" A strangled sound left your chest followed by another cry out for help, "Please, someone, HELP!"

The door to your room, now coming into focus around you, flew open and there he stood, smug smirk, raging ocean blue eyes, hair neatly in place, dismantling frame clothed in a black sweater and dark denim, heavy footfalls sounding against the thick carpet under his feet.

"Nice to see someone's awake," Ransom deadpanned.

You stared for a brief moment and screamed for help again, louder, and louder, and louder until you felt your voice crack and strain, your cords burning as the sound shattered away.

"Are you done?" He cocked his head to the side and folded his arms across his chest as he stood firm and tall in front of the bed.

"What the hell are you doing? Why am I here?" It hurt to speak but you had to ask.

“Because I want you here, Sweetheart.”

"I...I'm not, don't call me that," you spat defiantly as he moved closer, taking you in, his predatory eyes moving over your body. This was it, you were going to die all because some trust fund prick was a hurt baby about an article (that you forcibly apologized for) revealing the sick and sadistic truth about him, his family, money and the justice system.

"Are you gonna kill me?” You watched him carefully as he crossed the room towards you, trying to keep your voice calm so as not to betray the utter fear that was coursing through your veins at the fact you were trapped, fuck knows where, shackled to a bed with a murderer being your captor. “That's what this is about, right? My apology wasn't enough?"

"Your apology was forced bullshit.” He responded, his voice carried a hint of amusement, because of course, this was all a game to him. “You smeared my name, dragged my reputation though the mud and you expected an apology like that, half assed and full of more crap than your original hatchet piece, to be enough?" He was standing damn near over you now, a hand moving up your leg that was held by the cuff, your body frozen in a confused silent argument of fight or flight.

"You... Killed... Him." You grit out through clenched teeth, and his hand was on your throat before you finished your breath, squeezing just enough to make a point.

"No. I. Didn't." He lied and you had to hand it to him, a lesser person might have bought the garbage he was talking, because he was good at it. Lying must have been enough of a second nature for him that he actually believed everything he said himself. But then again, it wasn't actually a lie was it? Sure, he'd planned on indirectly killing Harlan and that plan had backfired and Harlan had actually slit his own throat. So at most he was indirectly responsible for his death, but none of that had stuck with the prosecution and so now here he was, a free man.

A struggled chuckle came from your tightened throat, "Jesus Christ, you actually believe your own bull shit don't you?"

"You've got a fucking mouth on you," he breathed as his body loomed ominously over the bed and your frame, tiny in comparison to his.

You swallowed, feeling the hard lump strain to pass his grip, "Not really, you just don't like hearing the truth."

His eyes bored into yours and you struggled for breath as his hand constricted around your neck whilst he squeezed a little harder "Oh shut up Y/N."

"Or what, Hugh?" You croaked.

A little flash of anger tore through his ocean blue eyes like lightning in a storm. His eyes bored into yours as you fought to swallow.

"Or I'll shut you up myself."

"Try me, you son of a...." You didn't expect his lips to cover yours but they did. Unexpectedly warm and soft, despite the painfully harsh kiss. You managed to pull away but his hand still gripped at your throat and you felt the fear constricting your chest. But you were damned if you were going to show him a shred of weakness.

“You’re an asshole, Hugh…” It was all you had, the only thing you could use in your arsenal given your situation. You still had your voice. And you’d noticed that for whatever reason he appeared to hate that name.

“Don’t... fucking call me that!” his voice rose to a loud, angry instruction, apoplectic rage seeping from him to you, and it was almost stifling.

“Or what? You'll kill me?” your voice rose in both volume and pitch as your desperation began to show. “We both know you're gonna do that once you've fulfilled whatever sick, twisted little fantasy this is. What are you waiting for, Hugh? Huh?”

Ransom scoffed, "Kill you, no, see I'm gonna teach you a lesson. One about how money and status get you anything you want.”

You frowned, as you looked into his icy blue eyes, utterly confused “Anything you want? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You'll see Princess” was the sole explanation you got as he knelt between your legs.

You stayed stock still as large and surprisingly gentle hands trailed your curves up the outside of your thighs to your hips. As he reached the hem of your sweater dress he paused as you wrapped your hands around his wrists.

"Don't" you squeezed, attempting to stop his wrists and close your legs.

“This will be much easier if you just play-along, sweetheart” he muttered as he pressed his lips to your neck. You let go of his wrists and raised your hands, laying them over the wool of his cable knit, palms flat against the plain of muscle as you attempted to push him off.

“I said no.” you tried to keep your voice stern, despite the fact you were fighting back the fear and sadness at the realization of his task was now at hand. His large hands smoothed over your dress, cupping your breasts and he let out a moan as you bit back the bile in your throat that was threatening to spill from your mouth. You pushed harder trying to force him off of you but it was of no use, his broad frame caged you in, engulfing you under him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.” He ground out, his lips inches from your ear as he nipped at your skin. He was impressively strong and balanced, his weight even through his body as he kept his knees between your legs, a hand against your breast and the other stroking your sides and up your thigh. All the while, his lips sucked at your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point as you turned your head away, tears filling your eyes

"Please, stop," you managed. "Hugh, stop!"

“I told you not to call me that.” He growled against your skin and pulled back, his eyes blazing as they locked on to yours. In sheer desperation, you managed to wrench a free hand from between you and gave him a slap, nails biting at his skin. Instantly you knew you’d pissed him off. His nostrils flared, his jaw set and as his eyes filled with fire and rage.

And you knew then, you were in for it.

“Bitch…” he snarled as he raised his left hand to his face where you had struck him, and then both his hands grabbed yours, yanking your arms up, pinning them above your head. You bucked upwards, violently in an attempt to shake him off, but it was futile. He was far too strong. His grip on your wrists grew tighter and despite yourself you let out a small whimper of fear.

In one hand he had the ability to cuff both of your wrists and he did so while his other grabbed at your dress, shoving it further up your body, fingers curling over the waist of your tights and panties, a handful of the material fisted in his palm. They wouldn't slide down quick enough and you felt your body lift away from the mattress slightly as he ripped away the material, the snap burning your skin. You fought, boy did you fight. You had no control of your hands or arms as he had them easily pinned, but your legs and the rest of your body gave as good as they could. You thrashed from side to side all the time screaming your objections. You drew your knees up to your chest in an attempt to buck him off. You screamed protests, threw every insult you had at him, but it was no use. He was simply too strong.

He didn't even bother with his belt or button, he just unzipped the flies on his jeans, pulled his solid cock free and slid in. You were wetter than you expected to be, but it still burned with friction and ached from the thick stretch against your tight walls. It hurt, definitely hurt.

"You know you want this. I know you want this." He rasped as he pulled out before thrusting back in, his face twisted in a look that was halfway between being smug and satisfied. Just looking at him made you feel sick but for some reason you were unable to look away as he continued his slow assault, before he picked up the pace slightly, his groans of satisfaction filling the room as he bottomed out, balls deep and it was at that point you closed your eyes and tried to block out what he was doing to you. But try as you might to remain mentally detached from the situation, your body was anything but. And the more he moved in and out of you, the more you could feel your physical reactions. You were powerless to stop them and the heat between your legs and in between your belly was spiking with each thrust into you.

It felt good. And you knew it shouldn’t. So you fought it, but eventually, you couldn't fight it anymore, not with the way his thick cock filled you, velvety smooth skin sliding in and out of your defiant core. You didn't want to cum, but your body told your brain it was going to and Ransom nearly puffed his chest as he fucked you into your body's submission.

"You're gonna fucking cum, aren't you, Sweetheart? I can feel it," he ground out, chasing his own release. You remained silent, breathing heavily as your insides coiled and tightened. "Fucking tight ass pussy," he gritted. You refused to cry out, not wanting to give him anything you were able not to, and it took everything you had to remain silent. In desperation, to quell the cry that was rising from your throat, you bit your tongue, tasting the coppery taste of blood in your mouth as you came hard around his cock.

“Fuck, yeah…see…” Ransom’s hips began to move faster, and then with a sudden movement he pulled out of you, making you wince involuntarily at the sting. He shot his load all over your thighs, a growl bubbling from his throat, the warmth of his release trickling down your leg made you feel even more dirty than you already did.

“Not so fucking smart are we now, huh, miss Investigative Reporter…” his snap was snide, and childish, but you knew he couldn’t help himself. Your head remained defiantly in its position on the pillow, turned to the right, eyes focussed on a spot on the wall. “Look at me, bitch.”

When you didn’t do as he asked, he grabbed your chin bruisingly, making you wince as he pulled your face round so he could see you. You knew he would be able to see the tears on your face, and you hated that. Hated that he would see how much he’d hurt you, scared you even,

His hand let go of your face and you stared at him, swallowing, trying to gather your voice in your painfully dry throat.

"That's all you got? You're a fucking child, Drysdale. It's why you’re doing this." You said, your voice trembling and croaking from the fear and exertion of what he had just put you through and you shook your head. “You’re a fucking man child with mommy and daddy issues. A spoilt, little whiney brat who can’t bear to be told no.”

That struck a nerve, you could tell, as his jaw clenched tight and his fists clenched around the sheets by your side to the point they were shaking. He grabbed your chin once more with his right hand and pinned your face still, forcing your eyes to look back at his

“You'll be begging me to accept your apology.” He snarled, his face contorted in rage “You'll see who the whiney child is soon enough. I promise Princess, it's not me”

As you looked at him, you felt your anger starting to simmer. This fucking ass hole had just raped you, and he had the gall to be saying you were going to tell him that you were sorry. No chance in hell. You knew you were screwed, literally and figuratively. Whilst he had you captive behind a bolted door, shackled to a bed you had nowhere to go, he knew that you knew that too and you could see it in his face as a smug smirk flickered on his lips. Well fuck this, if you were going down it was with a fight. With a sudden movement, that caught him off guard you moved your head slightly as much as you could in his painful grip, and spat right in his face.

Ransom blinked, his anger morphing to shock, then back to fury once more as he released your face and with a flash of his hand he back handed you straight across the face. The blow to your right cheek snapped your head to the left, sucking the breath from your lungs and leaving you a little dazed.

“Fuck you.” He sneered as he rose to his feet, wiping his face. Silently he rearranged his pants, tucking his now soft cock back inside them, and swept from the room, locking the door behind him.

***** Ransom stormed up the steps to the kitchen of the house, slamming the top door behind him and bolting that one shut too. He was furious that little bitch had scratched him and no doubt marked his face. He strode over the marble tiles of the room and walked into the large hallway and across into the den. He made his way straight to the bar, poured himself a healthy measure of good scotch, slopping a little on the dark wooden counter, before he glanced up at the large mirrored surface of the bar behind the shelves.

He could make out three vivid red lines down his left cheek where she’d dug her nails into his flesh and his jaw clenched. His hair was out of place, his cheeks flushed and his normally cold eyes were blazing with anger. But as he stood there staring at his dishevelled reflection, he knew it wasn’t the fact she’d scratched or spat at him that was pissing him off so much. It was the fact she had persistently voiced a name he despised, one that was used to control those lower than him in his every-day life. One reserved for The Help, for outsiders. It reminded him of his family, of his mother and father, the two people in his life who should have loved him unconditionally but instead had him out of ‘duty’ and had taken every opportunity to pass him off into the care of others they could. It reminded him of Walt persistently telling him he was a no-one, that he would amount to nothing over than a trust-fund baby.

It reminded him of Harlan. The one person in that entire fucked up patriarchy that had shown him an ounce of care. But who had screwed him over in the end.

The anger that had been simmering inside him boiled over, the blood pumped into his ear and with an angry yell and an almost involuntary action Ransom hurled the glass tumbler straight at the wall where it smashed against the tasteful silver and white wallpaper, the 25 year old single malt trickling down the wall…just like the tears and trickled down Y/N’s cheeks as he’d forced her to look at him whilst he took what was his.

As she’d glared up at him he’d noticed a fierceness in her eyes that he was surprised to find had unnerved him a little, because she clearly wasn’t going to be as easy to break as he thought.

“Fuck it.” He mumbled to himself, grabbing the bottle from the bar before he turned and left the room, taking a large swig as he went, the burn in his throat going someway to settling his nerves.

This would work out, because he was Ransom fucking Drysdale, a man who always got what he wanted in the end, and she was going to be no exception.

**** Part 2

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