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runaway silhouette [jjh]

—summary: no one asks about that polaroid picture of a woman yoonoh keeps in the depths of his wallet.

lace, measurements, models—jung yoonoh has worked for the world of fashion for a little too long, but he’s as unknown as the person next door. with his inspiration dying down and his designs getting cheaper by the day, yoonoh has changed his ways. no longer is he the best lingerie designer in ‘silhouette’, the company he works for, neither is he the playboy he used to be and the dulcet-mouthed man that got his way through success.

bad luck has settled in his life, much like it has done on hers. the manager of a hotel that slipped his fingertips when one night she denied him all—the world, her hold, her smile, and just left him with a picture on his wallet.

only when he has to prepare one of the biggest fashion showcases of his life does he meet her again, and he realizes things could never be easy between them.

why is he, a man of fashion, infatuated with such a lovesick, monotone, blazer-sporting hotel manager? no one will ever know.

a runaway has captured him, and he’s not sure how to get his heart back.

maybe, he should start by forgetting that night.

—title: runaway silhouette —pairing: jung yoonoh x reader —genre: lingerie designer!au ; hotel manager!au ; strangers to lovers to enemies!au ; slowburn!au ; slice of life!au —type: fluff ; angst ; humor ; drama ; suggestive —word count: 19,326 (i said slowburn and i meant it) —warnings: mentions of sex (the act is never on paper or narrative)

Jung Yoonoh is dressed to succeed.

With folded white sleeves and a black vest that becomes a second skin, he merges into the office like it belongs to him. It might, at some point in time; an associate after a few years and then, onto another business that was his own—vision, designs, everything. That’s the plan. His suitcase hangs, paces back and forth in the hook of his fist while all eyes cast on him while walking through the cubicles.

Today, Yoonoh is becoming the one in charge.

Silhouette is the lingerie line everyone wants to have cladding their skin. Expensive, intricate and elegant. It’s one of those things people put on when they need to feel their best while also being comfortable. Garments that enamor the buyer and the people who see them. His home for the past two years, Yoonoh has broken his ass to get to the manager position in the design department.

When settling his suitcase on his cubicle, he shares a smile with his neighbor. Johnny, part of the social media team, with his long-curled hair framing his rounded face. Fixing the collar of his shirt, Johnny interrupts him to say.

“Big day today, aye?”

Redemption, he likes to call this day. The payment for the parties he didn’t go to and the obnoxious nagging he stood from his boss, Mrs. Kang. This tall woman with atrocious so-last-season fluffed out coats in bright pink who screams at the mere sight of beige underwear. As she says, it’s tacky and simple, the kind of clothing you’d want to wear when un-turning someone on.

Yoonoh can’t wait until he can make decisions, organize collections, make bigger and better options for Silhouette to expand.

“You see, John, once I become your boss…I’m making you the leader of the PR and Social Media Team.” This place is a nest of snakes. One bite on his first day and he already became smarter. “Can’t be trusting anyone else with these babies.” With that, he opens his suitcase, sketchbook pressed to his chest just as Johnny claps his hands.

“Better position means better salary.” Johnny conquers, as casual as ever in his baby blue sweater

There are a few rules to Silhouette. To any workplace, really, and Yoonoh thinks about this just as he swings his long legs with Johnny following after him like a dog and his tail.

He had written them down in a portion of his brain that keeps his coffee order and his mom’s birthday. He’ll never forget them.

1) Never trust nobody—never say where you come from in business, where you’re headed, what your dreams and aspirations are. Copycats exist everywhere, and they’ll do anything to follow your track if you’re doing good.

2) Say goodbye to friendships but hello to hypocrisy. A smile is needed, but is it real? Not at all.

3) Differentiate your works from others. Being special is the only way you’ll stand out.

One push of the door spreads a smile on his face, brown hair pushed back to showcase his plush, rosy lips and his gleaming eyes. What’s rule number four, you may ask?

Don’t let them see how tired you are.

Mrs. Kang sits at the very end of the meeting table. Always early, never late. Her face is dense with makeup, each wrinkle becoming more apparent as she applies a third layer of bright pink lipstick. Yoonoh knows Mrs. Kang has been the biggest dictator of all—giving him more work hours, destroying the designs she didn’t like from him, and making him get jittery fingers from how much he had to sew and unsew with the sewing machine to show her what his mind had captured. Now that she had found a way younger boyfriend that is eager to give a trip to the entirety of Asia, he’s over the moon.

Because that means old and grumpy Mrs. Kang will be gone for a while, and whoever becomes manager will be, then, the one in charge.

“Mrs. Kang!” Yoonoh greets in a tone that is much too faux, his dimple becoming apparent by the second. The woman looks up and away from her compact, stopping the conversation he is having with his biggest rival in the office. Not worth even thinking about. “Classic always goes best. You look beautiful today.”

She can barely even move her features in a smile. That’s how obstinate this woman is, but one of her wrinkly hands comes up to hold Yoonoh’s bicep when he leans down to press two kisses on each of her cheeks. The old European greeting. “I know, Yoonoh.” She adds, extending her hand towards him. “May you show me your designs? I got here earlier than expected and I have something to do right now so—”

That makes Yoonoh’s smile falter the slightest, just as he opens his sketchbook and splays it in front of Mrs. Kang. “Well, Mrs. Kang, if you let me have a few of your minutes, I prepared a PowerPoint presentation and a video for the collection I have in mind as my desire to become head of the designing team—”

“Silence, Yoonoh.” Mrs. Kang interrupts, going through his lingerie designs for both men and women. It’s not the kind of job people think about when designing, but there is something about seduction and comfort that just works well for him. “I’m in the midst of planning my engagement and I don’t have the time for whatever extra thing you have in mind.”

The room is silent, but if features could talk, the woman seated next to Mrs. Kang would have burst out in laughter. Siyeon is a 4’11 piece of shit that dared steal one of his designs when in his beginnings in Silhouette. A fuchsia baby-doll that turned viral in the blink of an eye once it appeared in runways. Comfortable, sexy, with the right number of straps and the comfort of wearing it at any occasion, companion or not.

Yoonoh had left his sketch at his desk, only to find it gone the next morning. Mrs. Kang was over the moon, both from the money she got and about the audacity of the design. Siyeon had turned it in as hers.

No wonder her husband doesn’t stand her. She’s the devil reincarnate, and slips in Johnny’s DM’s every once in a while.

Yoonoh can’t say he doesn’t have some screenshots saved on his phone just in case he needs to blackmail her. This is the kind of man he has become.

“Done before.” Mrs. Kang flips onto another one of his designs. “Done before.” And then, she continues with the rest. “Vulgar. Boring. Ugly. Done before. Jesus, Yoonoh, did you even try to do anything?”

Yoonoh is used to praise. He has got it from women, throughout his time in college and even at his previous jobs. As an intern, he was refreshing and a nice sight in the designer area. Now, he is the floor Mrs. Kang steps on with her Louis Vuitton’s.

“I—” The meeting room is silent, everyone in the designer team trying to peek at his sketches. A short laugh leaves his lips, though awkward in tone. “We’ll compete against brands like Savage with designs like this. They’re brave and fitted and—”

“Boring.” Mrs. Kang completes, and Siyeon actually laughs at that moment, playing with one of her curled bright red strands of hair. “Yoonoh, I’m being serious. If the women you’re sleeping with are wearing lingerie like this…I’m worried about your sexual health.”

More laughter, and his jaw finally tightens. He tries to tell himself to smile, but he doesn’t, instead, snatching the sketchbook from her.

Mrs. Kang notices this, pushing her reading glasses down her nose before sighing. “Yoonoh, you need to learn how to take constructive criticism. You’re not perfect and I’m here to make you grow.” Says the woman that steps on him each time she can. At this point, he’s practically plastered on the floor. “I’m sure you’ll get to divert these boring ideas into something creative once Siyeon becomes the head of the department. You two have been so close since the beginning and I am sure she will work magic on you.”

“No.” Yoonoh shakes his head just as he plasters a faux smile on his features. “Ah, I—Well, I won’t—”

Siyeon stands up from her seat, fixing the sleeves of her white dress before clearing her throat. “I’m glad of getting the position and being the one, remotely, in charge of Silhouette as Mrs. Kang goes find true love.” This is not happening. Yoonoh rubs at his eyes in case he is dreaming. He has been preparing for this presentation for five months— “All I have to say is…I wouldn’t have been able to do this without the support of everyone here. My team. My heart. I have grown to have a family with you, not because we’re perfect, but because we’re together and…of course, it’s nice to continue down this path.” She hums. “A woman in charge and then, another woman. Isn’t that the whole point of Silhouette?”

His tongue scalds his palette when he takes a seat next to Mrs. Kang, closing his sketchbook with a harsh slap of his hand. Siyeon’s eyes connect to his own, fluttering her dense mascara-coated lashes before sighing.

“I had the pleasure of seeing Yoonoh in his first few days here and he has lost that spark, but I’m sure we’ll find it again.” Oh, everyone gets roses but he gets a few, too. For his social funeral, that is. He really wants to get out of there as soon as possible. “I’m thankful.”

There go the tears, and Siyeon covering her face with her hand, a smile hidden behind the action.

…Has he ever said he hates working in Silhouette?

“You’re going to make me cry, too.” One of the members of the manufacturing team says in between big sobs and Yoonoh can’t help but roll his eyes.

Fuck this place.

After an elongated meeting with tearful hugs and looks thrown his way, Yoonoh is ready to find somewhere else to work in. Keep to himself until he dares get his curriculum somewhere else and stab this company straight in the back. Not because he didn’t get the job…but…

Let’s be honest, it’s because he didn’t get the job and he lost it to Siyeon.

Johnny slips around a few hours later with some cheeseburgers in a plastic bag, dense in cheese and stinking the two conjoined cubicles before he says:

“She’s the devil.”

“An exorcism wouldn’t be enough for her.” Yoonoh replies, tongue itching to say something when he unleashes the cheeseburgers from their confines. He’s only five minutes away from lunchtime, after all. “I can’t believe they gave it to her. Her designs are…I don’t know, like lace over lace. That’s not elegant, that’s not what Silhouette stands for—”

“Here’s the thing,” Johnny says, smacking his lips as he speaks with a mouthful of burger in his mouth. “You never had a chance.”

A pang rests in the pit of his heart when he scoffs. “Yes, I did.”

“No, you don’t.” His friend replies. “Everyone in this office hates you but me. I believe it is a Freudian theory. The Jung Yoonoh Effect.” Voiced out like a movie trailer, Johnny extends one of his hands in the air.

“Sorry for not caring about anything but business. Everyone here are suck-asses and crybabies. Why should I care?”

“Because people feel disconnected to you. They don’t to Siyeon.” Johnny conquers. “The Jung Yoonoh Effect is simple.”

“Stop it. You don’t even know who Freud is.”

“That one psychologist that compared everything to sex. That’s who he is. Hence, why you’re there.”

Yoonoh quirks an eyebrow, playing with a slice of meat that had gotten out of his burger. “What are you even talking about?”

“Interns always thirst over you. At least, five out of every nine people in this office has had a wet dream about you, liked enough of your Instagram pics to look like a freak, or would have your dick in a second if the second step of your effect wouldn’t come around.”

“…I’m not that bad of a guy.”

“But you’re bland. Work. Work. Work.” Johnny moves his hand as if it’s talking. Now he’s playing marionettes. Great. “We’re selling lingerie, and you are always about competition and work. We need you to be passionate.”

“Passionately suck up to people?” Yoonoh shakes his head, huffing in the process. “No thanks, man. I’m not going to lower myself to Siyeon’s standards. Not sure I want to get pink eye from kissing so much ass.”

“Been there, done that.” Johnny sighs, a smile displayed on his features. “I’m just saying, bro. Maybe, change the game—”

Something Yoonoh is…stubborn. He’d die with that title, and it is only enhanced when he feels a long nail tapping on his shoulder, making him turn around. He expects to see one of those interns that try to stumble out words when asking him for his e-mail to send him the summaries or designs they have worked on, but this time around, he is met with Siyeon’s face.

“No eating until lunchtime.” She tuts, shaking her finger in the air.

This means war.

Yoonoh points at the clock on his wrist, showing it to her. Rolex, maybe, he’s spoiling himself with the benefit of showing her he has also earned some money, designs mediocre or not. “It’s already my lunchtime.”

“Not to me.” Siyeon answers, straightening her back. “Maybe, you’d like to listen to me before I kick you out of the team, don’t you, Yoonoh?”

With that, he pushes the burger onto his desk, covering it just as Siyeon smiles.

“Good boy.” She coos, laughing when she turns around and returns to giving a run-around the office.

“That’s it.” Yoonoh whispers, running his hands through his hair, not caring if he messes it up in the process. “I’m designing the best fucking collection one could ever find and showing everyone in this goddamned office that I have talent.”

“Ooh, and where do you think you’ll get inspiration from?” Johnny tries to gossip, and Siyeon’s soft touch for him is shown when she doesn’t even spare him a glance as he munches on his burger.

“I think I have someone in mind.”

###

She’d color-code her life if she could. Hence, it’s still a mess, and while she is as organized as she could be, her mind is still trying to process how to keep the hotel she works in safe and sound and quiet.

One would think that being the manager of a hotel would be easy. A three-star-hotel, no celebrities, no paparazzi’s, definitely not enough rich people who care about their environment. As long as she made it homely, clean, and nice to stay in, it wouldn’t be much of an issue.

The problem is…everything is a mess.

For one, her boss, Sachiko, has not appeared in the last two days into the hotel. None of her well-prepared summaries, in Times New Roman twelve, with enough punctuation to make it look like a contract, have been read. The maids keep talking amongst themselves, gossiping instead of cleaning. They got a bad review on their restaurant because the head of the cooking team had decided to shout to one of the clients about how ‘they didn’t have an ounce of taste’ because they disliked the taste of his Ratatouille and oh, how to forget? The fact that her duties as a manager transcend to something else.

She rushes through the kitchen, heat and smoke accompanied by the sizzling of veggies and meat. She doesn’t care that there are flames around her, or that she bumps into one of the cooks in the process.

Sachiko has a mini version of herself, gift of a getaway with her ex-husband to try to make her marriage work. Then, came the five-year-old that had slipped her hold as she was attending one of the residents in their hotel at the entrance, granting them information about the type of rooms they offered. Erika, in all her round-faced glory with grabby hands and too much energy, had slipped from her line of sight and her hold.

She has roamed the entire hotel and she can’t find her.

Oh, then, she should change her statement that she hasn’t seen Sachiko in two days. She has. Sachiko’s heels have clicked against the tiles of this hotel. Only to leave Erika with her, spitting out excuses about having to get on another meeting for the expansion of the hotel, before she’s off the hook of being a full-time mother.

She doesn’t even get more payment for this.

“Have you seen Erika?!” She asks out loud, voice strained from so much shouting, only to watch the head chef speak, his moustache moving with each word he says.

“Oh, little Erika?” Well, seems like he has a soft spot for someone. His eyes glimmer, just as he wraps his hand around his mouth, as if to utter a secret. “She’s in one of the tables. She asked for two milkshakes already. Oreo milkshakes. She’s starting to jitter.”

“Mr. Oh!” She whines, throwing her head back with a groan before splaying her hands on her hips. Navy blue uniform as a simple suit giving her the most boring yet comforting outfit she could come up with. “I am the one that has to get her to sleep, and if she has sugar before bed, she won’t even close an eye—”

Mr. Oh shrugs. “What am I supposed to say? She’s my boss’ daughter.”

“I am your boss as well.”

“You’re getting me fired?”

She can’t even answer to him, hearing the Baby Shark song spoken at the top of someone’s little lungs. Her feet are rushing out of the kitchen by the time she notices it, blazer opening up when she gets to the table Erika is in. Red walls and marble tables don’t scare her, playing with the straw of her drink and grabbing someone’s phone to listen to that fucking song again.

“Erika…” She tuts, voice stern, hands spread out on her knees. This cardio routine has been enough to make her burn all she has eaten this month. The little girl’s short hair caresses her cheeks when she turns towards her, a mischievous smile on her face.

“Yes?”

“Let’s go to your room and wait for mommy to get here.”

“Nope.”

“Yes, Erika. I am not playing.” Her voice levels itself, only to have Erika staring back at her. Big brown eyes blinking, playing with the edge of her pretty pink dress before sighing.

“But you won’t let me…let me watch my shows.” She takes in a breath, shuddering it out as a pout splays on her lips. “Y—You…mommy said you’d be with me, but you aren’t with me at all—”

Tears wield her eyes and she has to rush to cage her in her hold, hoisting her up before a big wail left her lips and she lost her job. “I’m sorry, Erika. I’ve been so busy, I hadn’t realized.” She mumbles out, pressing her cheek to the top of her head before sighing. “Do you want to give a walk around the hotel and go back to your room to watch as many shows as you want?”

She has to play good cards here. She’s not raising this child, after all, so if the long hours of TV-watching make her turn out bad when she’s a teen…that’s not her business.

Erika nods continuously, engulfing her arms around her shoulders. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

At least, she has found Erika before Sachiko arrives the next morning, but her body practically glues itself to the floor in tiredness by the time she slips out of the restaurant.

The best part of being a manager is when she gets back home.

###

“So, you’re saying you practically lost your job?”

Yoonoh’s life revolves one thing. Those four walls of his cubicles, the connections he has gotten from his workplace and his elongated list of explanations that always go unheard. In any other occasion, he would have been delighted of being given the benefit of lying. Casual relationships are more of his thing and explaining his every insecurity, recollection of time or worry isn’t part of the plan. Carnalities? Sure thing.

A hook-up turned friend with benefits pushing him by the chest and practically gasping when he sighs? He didn’t think it’d end this way.

“Mia,” His voice rasps out, leaning back on his calves while hovering over her. Her bed is as pristine as always, the rosy satin sheets from last week turned into beige, deep fibers that do sound too elegant for them to do whatever they are thinking of in the bed. “I didn’t lose my job, I just didn’t become the head of my department, okay?”

He’s trying to spell it out, but the model is just as confused. Mia had modelled for Silhouette a bunch of times in the last two years, and that’s how he met her. Fitting one of his designs to her will had led him to be asked out on a date and then, the contract came about. Just sex, nothing more.

Mia scrambles away from underneath him, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as if repulsed. As if she had kissed an ogre itself. “Yoonoh, you’re practically jobless—!”

“I am not.” He sighs out, trying his hardest to concentrate on anything around the room. The tall ceilings, the conversation at hand, anything but the obvious problem in his boxers right now. “I swear, I will just be working for Siyeon but it’s for a period of time. I’m sure I’ll get her position soon enough.”

“Oh my God,” Mia pushes her long brown hair away from her shoulders, widening those innocent eyes of hers, sharp cheekbones lifting in distaste—not even a smile of comprehension. “I can’t believe I almost slept with a good for nothing. You told me you’d get that job and now you didn’t?”

“A good for nothing?” Yoonoh stands up from that bed, hands on his hips when Mia nods, once and then twice.

“Your dick is good, but not that good.”

Is this the day Yoonoh’s ego gets bruised to shattered little pieces that poke at his feet like glass? Perhaps.

Is this the day Yoonoh lets that pang of pain in his chest become visible? Not at all.

“Were you just with me because I was probably going to be a manager?”

“Silhouette is—listen, they are established, but it’s not what I had in mind.” Mia puts on her robe, covering her Goddess-crafted body before picking up a glass of the wine they had been sharing. “If you became manager, I’d have more connections with other teams. I would probably be in better runways and—”

“I’m not your manager or your little linking buddy, Mia.” Yoonoh complains, chest flushed when he seethes, pushing the strands of his dark hair away from his face. “We’re just having fun. I wasn’t going to bring you as my plus one when we had already established—”

“I don’t know if you notice,” She starts, licking her lips in elegance. “But you’re…you’re going to end up alone, Yoonoh. All you do is work, you’re always tense and silent and…a little bit boring, if I’m being honest. I am definitely the closest thing you’ll ever have to a relationship.”

Oh, no. That’s the thing he hates the most. How the world has been divided in romanticists and hard-workers. You’re one of the other, can’t ever be both, and sometimes, he feeds into that stereotype. He knows he doesn’t have time to fully sit down and talk to someone about his interests, let his heart be wandered about like a museum, but somehow…hearing anyone tell him that he’s tense, silent, boring…doesn’t sit well with him.

He shrugs, eager to poke just like done to him. “Good thing I never wanted a relationship with you to start with.”

Mia gasps at that, plush lips parted before she’s opening the window of her one-floor home. Elegant, but still not the grandest thing out there. “Oh, is that so?”

“You happen to be presumptuous, superficial and now, a complete opportunist—” He says, walking behind her until she turns around, her robe falling off one shoulder when she points at the window, crisp air whisking the tension around.

“Then, leave.”

“Okay.” He’s about to turn around and grab his clothing, when he feels her tugging at his taut forearm.

“Not through the door. You don’t get the benefit to do that.” Once again, Mia is pointing at the window and that catches a chuckle out of Yoonoh, that rises and rises in tone.

“I won’t get out through there.”

“I didn’t ask you. I told you to.” With that, she’s pushing at his chest, trying to get him out as he scrambles to get a hold of her.

“Mia! Are you fucking insane?!”

“Tired of your bullshit, Yoonoh. That’s it.”

Mia is, perhaps, not stronger than him, but for someone who walks on runways…she’s mad strong. Maybe, it’s the necessity to get him out of her home or the flying atrocity of her train of thought that has him stumbling backwards in one of those moments. In just his boxers, the prickling of the grass and the flowers in Mia’s garden caress and poke at his skin, tickling in enormous amounts just as he falls into the most embarrassing position he has been in.

The moonlight seeps over his skin, a groan ripping from the depths of his soul at the ache on his back when he hears the window closing, not without a few words from Mia: “And don’t you dare call me again, asshole.” And maybe, he would have laughed at the stupidity of the statement, because throwing someone out of a window is definitely not a reason to call someone back, but now, he’s much too surprised and in pain.

###

She wishes she was back to being a kid.

It’s a thought she has when the days are tough and uncertainty fills her, like a vase that is neither half full or half empty, but just stuck. In this town, with a job that she had wished for years ago, that takes away every ounce of will and thrive that she ever had. Days are tiring, nights even more so, and sometimes, she wishes the lake would stop being so calm. For it to be some movement, some waves, some dance of life that tells her: ‘this is something new and I give it to you because you deserve it’.

Instead, she’s walking alongside Erika, whose little feet in her elegant tiny boots are kicking a rock on the sidewalk. They had decided to walk for another block near the hotel, houses scattered in their glow in this enchanting night. It’s a moment of quiet, and she relishes on it, sending a look to the rock and to the little girl, just in case she’s not warm enough or she’s tired.

Oh, how she wishes she was tired.

Erika calls out her name, soft and through a pout, in a way that makes her sound like her age. Very much little a baby. “…Why do…why do girls your age never like boys?”

“What do you mean?” She questions, a smile on her face when sparing Erika a glance. A shrug is given. “I think boys are cool. Not all boys, but some are.”

“Mom doesn’t like my dad, and he’s a boy.” That must be the way she explains her parents’ divorce, but how she’s involved in that? She has no idea. “You…you don’t have a boy. I never hear you talk about boys.”

You see, she hasn’t dated in a while. A while as in…years. Comes to be, building trust into someone after having another person shatter it for you is not only difficult, but somehow near impossible. A plane ticket had said farewell to her in-person relationship and she had embarked in this immense long-distance relationship with too many tears and too much longing. He was distant after a while, and she blamed it on time differences…

Time differences that were proven to be someone else when she called him to tell him she had saved money for seven months just to visit him, only to hear him with another woman.

Another woman who claimed to be his girlfriend of four years.

Not one. Not two. Not three. Not even three and a half. Four.

“I don’t know.” She starts, trying to find the best way to say this. “We don’t always need a boy, Erika. Us girls, we don’t. The only people we need are our family, our friends and ourselves. Princesses can still be pretty and have a lot of people looking up to them without a prince.”

“Like Moana?”

“And Merida.” She completes, a smile on her face when she tugs the little girl up to scoop her in her hold. “Your mom has a hotel and she takes care of it very well without a boy. That doesn’t mean your daddy is not important, but they are happy even when he doesn’t have a girl and she doesn’t have a boy.”

“Then,” Erika plays with the collar of her white button-down. “We all have to be in pairs?” She stops.

“You mean couples?” Erika nods. “Oh no, honey, not all of us have to be in pairs or be part of a couple.” She chuckles at Erika’s innocence. She must be a bit insufferable, but still a kid. With the nightly air blowing at her face, she sighs. “We can all be with anybody, depending on who we like, girls…boys…your mom has told you that, right?”

Humming, Erika opens her mouth to speak up. “Yep.”

“Good girl.” She coos, smiling in the process. “Do you know what decision means?”

“Yes.” Erika conquers. “Carrots or potatoes, like that.”

“Exactly. What you choose is your decision.” She’s trying to make this easy for her. “Your mom doesn’t have to love a man, because that is her decision. As long as she loves herself and you, she’s already complete.”

“And you?” Erika questions.

She hadn’t thought about it in years. It didn’t feel right to be next to someone else, and she doesn’t know if that falls on her a little bit. Loneliness is inherent, this wandering thought that comes to her when she stops and wonders if there is someone out there. Not to complete her, because she’s already full by being on her own, but to support her.

“I am complete, too.” The answer is simple, tucking a strand of Erika’s hair behind her curved little ear. “So are you.”

“I am complete!”

“Yes, you are.”

Something interrupts them just as they pass by a cream-colored house. A groan comes from the flowers planted in the front-yard, and that has her stopping. Flowers don’t talk, obviously, but if someone is hurt—a dog or a human, she has to check.

More groaning and then, she sees a peak of milky skin under the moonlight, paired with tousled black hair. A man is standing in between the bushes, with his lower half thankfully covered by the plants, a short small nose, decently sized lips and a face that speaks anything but a good time.

And he’s half-naked. Only in boxers.

Her hand comes upwards to cover Erika’s eyes just as a loud gasp leaves her lips and she screeches: “Pervert!”

“No, no, no!” The man in question shushes her, lowering his body until even his taut chest and abdomen are covered. His eyes widen comically, and she has to shut her mouth to hear him speak. “I’m not a pervert, I promise! I know this looks wrong but—”

“You’re hiding in the bushes without clothes on, sir. This is definitely something illegal—”

“I was with a woman,” He sends a look towards Erika, levelling his words just because a kid is there, trying to snatch her hand away, but its grip is tight like iron. “And she threw me out because we had a break-up. Kind of. Not serious enough to call it a break up but…my clothes are inside and she won’t let me in. I’ve tried for such a long time. I was hiding until someone passed by but…no one did.”

Still far away from him, she quirks an eyebrow. This relatively, conventionally handsome man had been kicked out by a woman…almost ass-naked?

Talk about an attitude.

“Well, I’ll call someone over to help you out—” She’s about to move again, not completely trusting the man in the bushes when he calls her over with a hiss from his lips. A mix of ‘psst!’ and ‘hey!’ that obnoxiously makes her stop to turn around, still covering Erika’s eyes. “What?”

His eyes glisten when he says: “Help me.” He must be some kind of boss. The stranger says these two words like she has to do it, and she would have turned around again had it not been for those plush lips saying: “Please.”

“What do you want?” She questions, only to have him smiling.

Oh, there is a dimple there. A very profound and albeit, a bit attractive, dimple.

“Clothes.” The stranger adds. “Can you buy me some clothes? I promise I’ll pay you. I just need to get out of here. I think a cockroach bit me in the ass.”

“Language.” She spits out, just as Erika tries to wiggle away from her hold and repeats:

“Ass!”

“Erika!”

“Sorry.” He says again, bringing his hands together in a plea before sighing out: “I need them right now.”

She fixes Erika’s hold around her body, before rolling her eyes hard enough so she cans see the back of her head. “Fine. I’ll find you some clothes.”

###

Erika won’t take care of the family business. She’ll be a stylist, for sure.

The only thing opened at this hour of the night that doesn’t cost her a big portion of her salary is the thrift store and after endlessly explaining the situation to a very eager Erika, she is watching the little girl moving around the store as if she owns it, grabbing clothes here and there in a hassle.

“Erika, be careful. We can only pick three pieces of clothing!” Not that the teenager by the counter cares, popping his bubblegum in between his thin lips, looking down at his phone and tapping on it with a speed that a piano player would envy.

“We have to make him look cute.” Erika tries to say in her most professional voice, and she has to sigh. She will definitely not become a mother anytime soon.

“Yes, but we also have to make it cheap. I don’t have much money in this suit.”

“Yes, yes.” Somehow, she feels like Erika is not listening, pulling at a t-shirt on a table nearby, only to unfold it and give it to her. Her body is so small that she couldn’t see the imprint on the front. As her babysitter of the night, she expands it over her chest, only to watch something within Erika lighting up. “I like it!”

“Good,” She checks the price after muffling a laugh at the words written at the front. “It’s cheap. We can get it.”

Small steps patter against the tiles of the grand store before she’s tugging at the leg of a pair of pants she found on a rack, too tall for her to grab.

“This, this, this, I want this!”

Those ones are a little bit pricier, but when she gets them out of the rack, a smile finally spreads through her features. She has to get it. “You have a gut for styling, little one.”

Erika straightens her back in pride, fisting her small hands before nodding. “Thank you. Want me to buy one for you?”

She chuckles at her words. Definitely not, but she masks it by saying. “We don’t have enough money tonight. Another time.”

###

Props to the man whom now she knows is called Jung Yoonoh…he doesn’t look half as bad in those clothes as anyone else would.

The milky way spreads on Erika’s pupils when she leans on the table that she had taken up in the hotel’s restaurant a little bit over an hour ago. Her line of sight is filled with none other than Yoonoh, whom she had practically cried to just to invite him to have dinner with the two of them. Erika has practically eaten her weight in Oreo milkshakes, but she can’t quite say she is not starving by the time she slips into the leather seats and she smells the delicious cooking from the kitchen.

Compare that to the bland sandwich she has in her locker.

The little girl talks even out of her elbows. Yoonoh, however, patiently listens, trying to keep up with the grand story she has for the outfit she had picked for him. That explains why people take second-glances towards him. Not that he is not handsome enough; the lighting at that house his girl had kicked him out of did not do justice to his chiseled, quite carved face, but there is something about his clothing that captures most of the attention.

A pair of pink flip flops that Erika had picked up at last after they both forgot about shoes. Tight red leather pants that showcase the strength and curve of his thighs, quite lean, elongated legs that she had taken a second look at when seeing him out of the bushes with some clothes on. And, how to forget the old, quite used black tank top that reads: ‘With a body like this, who needs a personality?’.

She had laughed when she saw him.

Her fingers dip her fries on some ketchup by the time Yoonoh does so, sparing her a glance over Erika’s shoulder when the little girl says:

“My friend doesn’t need boys.” The girl adds, wrapping her hands around her mouth before saying. “But don’t feel offended, she still finds boys cool.”

“Some of them.” She corrects, connecting her gaze with Yoonoh’s just as the man leans back on his seat, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Oh, words from a broken heart. Who hurt you?” He questions, quirking one of his eyebrows before taking a bite of the fried chicken he had insisted on getting. Something about those brown eyes seem to capture her perfectly, as if reading her like a book…and she doesn’t like it.

“I’m just too busy to care.” Her voice wavers the slightest when letting out her excuse and then, she scoffs. “You know, that happens when you’re the manager of a hotel.”

“Understandable.” Yoonoh nods a few times before that dimple appears again. “Too busy to care or too busy to date?”

Her face burns by the time Yoonoh asks that question, pleased with the way she widens her eyes. “When did we decide to make me the subject of our conversation?”

“You saw me half-naked, I get to know something about you other than the pressed suits and the obvious distrust issues.” Yoonoh’s tone is playful, that smile never erased from his features, while her frown deepens. She can’t say he’s not correct, but he’s also poking at her nerves with his words.

“I don’t have trust issues.”

He hums. “Your first reaction is to say no to everything. You deny every word that is thrown your way.”

“Because I happen to think guys like you just feel like they know it all.” She comments, taking the same position as him while crossing one leg over the other. Erika just looks between the two, trying to understand this conversation to no avail. “You read and read people, but I can read you well, Yoonoh.”

He expands his arms, showing that ridiculous shirt. May be half true, his body is great, and his personality may be a little bit insufferable. “Read me.”

“Bachelor with a good job who has that ‘rise and grind’ mentality. Don’t take relationships seriously. Can’t look past what’s in front of him and oh, trust issues, too.” She relishes on leaning over the table, watching as his eyes concern the rest of her face, taking in her every feature before his gaze delves down to the fold of her shirt, no buttons opened, but he’s trying to see something there.

“You want me to look at what’s in front of me?” He questions. “It’s you. Didn’t know that was your way of flirting with me. Guess I really do have to thank you for the…outfit.”

“And me!” Erika raises her hand, waiving it in the air happily.

His tutting tone changes when smiling at her. “Thank you, Erika.”

“Who hurt you, Jung Yoonoh?” She questions, mocking the tone he had used on her and trying to stop a smile from appearing on her lips. So, playing around with him is fun, as it seems.

He stops for a moment, as if thinking. The curve of his mouth falls down the slightest and she hears a breath-in that she overthinks about, noticing that there is pain in even the brightest of people. Instead, he shrugs. “I haven’t gotten my heart broken.” Yoonoh says, playing with the strands of his hair, curves of his arms contorting. “Want to be the first to break it, sweetheart?”

“You wish.” She scoffs, only to have Yoonoh dipping more of his fries in ketchup.

“You wouldn’t even kill an ant.” Yoonoh swats without importance. “I doubt you’d break my heart.”

“I wouldn’t want to break your heart, and that’s what differentiates us.” She points between them. “Good cop, bad cop.”

“Excuse me.” A tender voice cuts through the air around us, a young-looking guy with innocent features and glasses too big for his face waves a Polaroid camera in his hold when nearing them. “May I take a picture of you? I have a photography project for a class I’m taking in college and I need to take pictures that bring nostalgia and warmth. I happened to think your little family could be the perfect subject.”

Before she could fully deny they are a family, Erika is wrapping both her little arms around their shoulders as she settles at the center of the table, smiling at the camera. “Cheese!”

Two pictures are taken before she could fully bring a smile to her face, her eyes connecting to Yoonoh’s over the table in a look that she can’t quite recognize. His smile has erased but still, he’s the one to take the picture when the college student says:

“One for you, one for me.” He says, bowing slightly. “Thank you.”

With that, he is gone, but the effect of his picture lingers when she realizes where she is. A complete stranger sits at the same table as her, trying to figure each other our while she should have put Erika to bed long ago, continue with her job and not even look to the sides to see whose lives are coexisting while she’s just working.

“Sorry.” She stands up, shaking her head at her own antics. Helped him, she had already done, and now she has no business to sit with him, grab a bite and just pretend that she doesn’t have things to do. Yoonoh looks up from the picture, eyebrows furrowed when she grabs Erika by the arms and hoists her up. “I—I have to work. I don’t…I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t be here with you.”

“Why?” Yoonoh questions, voice softened when she shakes her head.

“I just shouldn’t.” She finishes, not knowing quite well what this feels like. Casually flirting with a man like him means trouble. “Goodbye, Yoonoh.”

She says those words with the harshest weight of the world, turning around and rushing out of the restaurant while Erika screams out Yoonoh’s name in need for more fun in the night. Nonetheless, she feels someone’s eyes trailing after her, but she knows one look over her shoulder would only bring more questions to her head.

What was the universe trying to do when putting him on her road?

###

There is a picture in his wallet that doesn’t even begin to answer the questions roaming his head. As confused as in the beginning, Yoonoh remains.

He doesn’t know why he stares at it after finishing his meal during lunchtime, the office emptied out of people, flicking at the corner of the Polaroid he would not show anyone even if they paid him a billion won. He just wouldn’t. That ridiculous shirt and those obnoxiously tight pants that definitely gave him a carpet burn that he’s still feeling two days later, should have been enough of a reason not to wonder about the sudden change of mind the hotel manager had.

Maybe, he had offended her. Though, she had kept on playing his game—and he half meant what he said. People like her are easy to read. Definitely an organization freak, perhaps a bit nerdy, with enough worries in her mind to fill an entire book. She wasn’t wrong about his trust issues either, but as he splays his fingertips on top of her placement in the picture, the only one who is not fully smiling, he ponders…

What’s about this girl that has his mind bringing her back all the time?

He closes his wallet just as he opens his sketchbook. A new one, because in his hassle, he had ripped the other that he had filled with all his dreams and hopes. He had crafted bodies, all in different sizes, to design something…and nothing had come to mind, not until he saw her again. That treasure hidden under baggy suits and clothes that he would have never looked at twice if only he hadn’t been captured by the naïve elegance in her face.

His eyes had tried to look, capture a glimpse of the curves around her body, and his imagination gave him more than what he could actually perceive. Yet, it had been enough. Flipping through his color scheme cards, he compares it to the vision he had inside his brain. Conservative, but still enough to feel powerful…

Violet. He doesn’t know why he picks it, but he does.

His fingers can’t stop sketching over the model he has on his sketchbook. He imagines lace and stain, draped thin pieces of clothing over the shoulders. Enough coverage for a one piece…and it comes to him in the form of a muse he would have never imagined. Someone who did not even show him anything, never gave him a chance to talk or fly, because that’s what he had never tried. What Silhouette had never stood for.

The people who are too shy to wear something like what they design.

Attractiveness is a feeling most people should get used to. Being looked at in an adoring light or have a flower thrown their way in the form of a compliment is desired, but has been lost in the eye of lust. Every word of adoration these days has been related to something—the imminent stoppage of the moment for the promise of sex. Never had Yoonoh thought of his designs as something more than a form of self-seduction, with the portrayal of self-love as a higher force for lust, but now, he sees it again.

Lingerie shouldn’t be seducing. It should be a weapon of beauty; a piece of clothing to be taken into consideration, colors that merge well with one’s personality. Not everyone is ready to fully unveil themselves in the light of the sexualized society we live in. Sometimes, people just want to feel nice fabrics against their skin or a glimmer of gorgeousness without showing everything.

The magic of designing is in delicacy.

The ideas come to him then. What was once a two piece for Yoonoh, now is one. What was once see-through, now makes up for riskiness in designs and curves, fabrics added to give more structure, instead of more nudity. Lingerie doesn’t have to be a thin layer of clothing—it can be beautiful, crafted and built.

His e-mail dings with a new entrance, stopping him on his third design as he envisions what must be under that suit—what would fit her and other working people for needing a boost, without actually showing the clothing to anyone but themselves, but soon enough, his face falls at Siyeon’s e-mail.

Subject: The Boss Wants You to Work.

Greetings, my beloved Yoonoh,

Silhouette has been known for its strong stance in the fashion community, and I have been pleased to land a runway show for us in, specifically, twenty-nine (29) days. In light of this, I send you the list of things you have to do:

1) Design a set for the main male model of the runway, Kim Jungwoo. It has to be a showstopper if you want to keep working with him. I need this to be sent in 6 days.

2) Find a nice and not as expensive place for the publicity photoshoot to take part on. I don’t want simple. I need ravishing visuals.

3) Talk to the newbie models and make sure that said day, the stylists don’t screw up.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

Jeon Siyeon.

Yoonoh rolls his eyes before starting to type a reply. The devil must be in front of her computer.

Subject: [RE]: The Boss Wants You to Work.

Hello,

I had already started working on a female set. I’m a female lingerie designer. I think I am not the one in charge of Jungwoo’s outfit.

Sincerely,

Jung Yoonoh.

The response comes just as he begins scrabbling his ideas into paper once again.

Subject: Who asked?

I want you to work on Jungwoo’s outfit. See if you get better while working on boxers instead of bras.

Not as sincerely,

Jeon Siyeon.

Spreading one hand on top of his sketchbook, he rubs the bridge of his nose before he breathes in deeply. Okay, now it seems like he has to craft something for a model that he doesn’t even know about, as well as finding the place for a photoshoot. An assistant, he seems to be now, and Siyeon’s, nonetheless.

But a place comes to mind, soon enough.

###

Devastation comes short to the wails that leave the kid’s lips. That speaks of pleas and pain.

Over a week of Sachiko coming up with different meetings had led up to an expected, yet somewhat uncalculated, road trip to where she hopes to build her second hotel. That said, she won’t stay for a day or two, but for the entirety of two weeks away from Erika. The daughter that now clings onto Sachiko like a koala, hiding her face in the crook of her neck, black hair matching her own as she cries uncontrollably.

Sachiko is at her apartment’s doorstep, luggage by the side of her elongated legs, as she shushes her daughter with a worried gaze. “You’re going to be okay, baby.” Then, she calls out her name, trying to wipe the tears in her eyes with just one hand. “You’ll be taken care of…and I will be back before you know it.”

“Why do you leave?!” Erika screeches, and Sachiko tries her best to reason with her, but her own whines are stopping her.

So, with her pajamas and tiredness lingering within her, she places a hand on top of Erika’s back. “Because your mom wants you to have a great life, Erika. She wants to buy you all you need and for you to have dreams as big as hers.” Maybe, she won’t get it now, but it’s the best she can do to explain the situation.

It manages to make Erika turn around, blinking her tears onto her cheeks. “I don’t want her to go.”

“We’ll mark the calendar…and she’ll come soon enough.” She whispers out, and it’s at this moment that she regrets saying yes to Sachiko when she asked her to take care of her daughter for a little while longer.

A little while longer shouldn’t mean two weeks.

Still, Erika doesn’t let go of her mom. She’s glued to her.

“I made you some hot chocolate, and I have some pudding that I prepared for me earlier.” Because sugary sweet meals seem to make her feel better in these days of uncertainty. This makes Erika widen her eyes, looking back at her mom before questioning her with a small smile.

“There you go, there’s my smiling baby.” Sachiko finishes, putting her daughter down before looking down at her watch. “My taxi is waiting for me. You can call me tomorrow, Erika, okay?”

“Yes, mommy!” But Erika is already moving towards the kitchen to grab a mug of that sweet, sweet hot chocolate.

She knows sweets are her weak point.

The only weak point she has.

“Make sure she sleeps early, okay?” Sachiko says, and all she can do is nod.

“Sure thing.” I can’t promise a thing, she thinks.

“And that she doesn’t eat too many sweets. I’ll let this one slide.”

“Only veggies.” She says as she grabs her doorframe in between her hold. Only to give her something sweet after she throws the veggies at my face, her mind replies.

“Thank you.” Sachiko adds over her shoulder, a smile to her face. “I know it’s difficult, but I really don’t have any family to take care of her and I really do trust you. I promise to pay you well after all this.”

That’s a nice start.

“Don’t worry. Me and Erika get along well.” That’s not a lie, but taking care of a kid is extremely tiring. “Just get in your taxi. We’ll be fine.”

With that, minutes pass by of complete silence, Erika’s eyes trained on her phone, blasting Peppa Pig, with one or two hiccups escaping here and there as she drinks her first mug of chocolate. She joins her, slicing another bit of cake and shrugging off whatever thought appears inside her brain.

The chocolate merges on the roof of her mouth, warming her to the tip of her toes, each aching muscle after hours of working relaxing, even a bit entranced by the show she’s not watching, but might be brain-washing her just like the rest of the kids.

“Another one, please.” Erika says after finishing her episode, extending her mug of chocolate towards her before she smiles sweetly.

She shakes her head. “Mom said no sweets.”

“Please?” The little girl drags with dulcetness in her tone, but she repeats the previous action.

“Nope.”

Erika places the mug down, head laying low before she repeats: “Chocolate, please!”

“I said nope.”

The kid stops for a moment, thinking as the sound of the dishwasher starting up as she cleans the mugs and the plates, and just then, her small voice is heard again:

“You don’t give me chocolates because you’re sad about Yoonoh?”

That makes her halter all steps. Yoonoh. The man that she had met days ago. Adonis without a shirt on, and then some weird 2011 wannabe that happened to have dinner with her and Erika. The lingering flirtations between the two had not been forgotten, those pair of eyes that somehow seemed to want to strip her of her utmost secrets, only for her to back away.

Yoonoh means trouble.

“I am not sad about Yoonoh.” She adds, turning around with her damp hands ending up over her waist. “Why do you think I’m sad about him?”

“Because he’s your boy!” Erika screeches as if it’s the most obvious thing, and she’s starting to get tired of the kid’s insane romanticism mixed with optimism. Sure, she’s a kid, but Disney should start making less princesses with a prince. “Mommy explained it to me.”

“What did she explain?” Not that she’s understanding a thing, but please, she does need to be enlightened.

“I asked mommy how people acted when they were in pairs.”

“When they are couples.”

“Yep!” The grin on her chubby cheeks is enchanting, but by what she’s saying, she’s about to ask Sachiko to pick her up again. The love talk is not her thing. “And she said boys smile a lot and they speak weirdly, like things I can’t understand.” That is a way to put it. “And the girl looks down a lot…and I don’t remember what else she said, but you did all those things with Yoonoh. He is your boy!”

“Boyfriend, not boy.” She corrects, turning around to continue to wash the dishes. Was he smiling at her? She had seen the dimple, but she hadn’t thought that he had beamed around like a madman. “And he’s not my boyfriend. I don’t have one.”

“But why?” Erika drags her voice.

“We already had the talk of Moana and Merida.”

“I get that. I’m like them. I don’t want to be with boys.” She utters innocently, standing up to tug at her sleeve. “But you are with Yoonoh.”

“Oh, no.” She shakes her head, laughter escaping her lips. “You hit your head, Erika.”

“I didn’t!” The little girl says, scratching her head just in case. “You’re a princess. He’s a prince—”

“Erika!” She stops her, interrupting her with ease before sighing. “I met Yoonoh the day we saw him, and I didn’t like him that way. We aren’t even friends.”

She juts out her lip. “I wasn’t friends with Mina either.” That’s Erika’s best friend from school. “But we became friends in a day. She put a worm in the teacher’s sandwich…” Her voice becomes soft, a blush appearing on her face. “It was awesome.”

“It’s different for adults.” That’s the best way to put it. She shakes the water away from her hands after closing the faucet before patting them dry on a towel. “What would you do if I said I disliked Yoonoh?”

“Nothing.” She adds. “You said you liked cool boys, and he’s a cool boy.”

He’s an overachieving asshole with a nice smile that could potentially enter her heart if she let him, but that should and would never happen. That’s who he is.

“Erika, I’ll tell your mom to ground you if we keep this conversation up.”

That seems to make her stop, grabbing her phone once again—and she knows the password, which is even worse, kids in this generation are geniuses—, before adding: “Does Peppa have a boy?”

“Oh my God, no!”

This will definitely be a long night.

###

His mind is blank. Absolutely blank. Lingerie for men is even more difficult than lingerie for women.

Jungwoo gives another walk on the stage, bleached blonde hair barely moving with each step he takes. He’s in the simple designs, the first launch of Silhouette, as bland as bland can get, and while his strut is fine, he can’t think of anything. Nothing that couldn’t be just a simple pair of boxer briefs thrown on a model. He could do that, but that’s so common, so plastered on paper. He wants to do something else, and yet, in the day of the photoshoot, he can’t think of anything.

“Why are you making me do this?” He met Jungwoo a few days ago, and he was actually quite surprised to recognize who he is. A runway model that has been around the world and all over fashion weeks. His dulcet personality and tall frame have gotten him somewhere, that’s for sure. “I should be already in my clothes and ready to take pictures.”

“I have nothing.” In the middle of the hotel’s ballroom, Jungwoo stops walking at the sound of Yoonoh’s voice. The designer looks down at his sketchbook, where he had made the drawing of a body similar to Jungwoo’s and still, nothing came to mind.

“…You have to have something.”

“A pair of black boxers.” He turns the sketchbook around just as Jungwoo slips a robe over his body and ties it securely. “Better than white boxer briefs, sexier, too. All the women I’ve been with likes them.”

“I won’t model that.” Jungwoo conquers, a lightweight laugh following after. “Those look like plain cotton boxers.”

“Well, I just don’t know what to design. Either I make you look tacky or I make you look bland. There is no in-between.”

“That bad?” Jungwoo questions, taking a seat next to him before grabbing a water bottle. “People are going to be here any minute. Everyone has decorated and I’m not sure my manager will be happy to hear that I came here just for nothing.”

A look is spared to the model, with Yoonoh shaking his head softly. He has to think of something. He can’t give Siyeon the benefit of seeing him tuck with a simple design.

His pencil taps against the drawing for a few seconds before he breathes out a few words: “You’re okay with being more covered?”

Conservative and elegant is more of what he has been aspiring for, with that peek of skin that makes the world go around. It’s what he has been drawing these days, but mostly with a muse in mind.

“Sure. I wasn’t over the moon thinking my ass was going to be out in the world.”

Yoonoh chuckles at that, turning the page around from the plain black boxers before sketching something else. “How about a crop top? With a fabric similar to a bralette, and you look better in red than you do in black.” He draws a diagonal line across the ribcage, making slitted long sleeves to showcase pieces of biceps, filling it up with the color red in a quick hassled manner that he will fix later. “Maybe some chains and garments around that wrap up to your waist.”

“I like that.” Jungwoo announces when looking over his shoulder.

“I’ll keep the black boxers. I still think they are classics, and I can talk to the management team to make them more than just cotton.” Yoonoh announces, soon after looking at the picture before clicking his tongue. “I think there’s something lacking.”

“Dunno. You’re the designer, but I’d wear this out of the runway.”

That’s something good, but Yoonoh is thinking of something else. People in real life transcending into their own confident version. That’s what he wants to portray. He draws a suit jacket draped over his shoulders, falling onto his long legs until it reaches midway through his calves, before sketching a pair of pants on the side. Loose, simple, highlighted in the waist.

“We could connect do something like…like suspenders. Office guy turns into midnight God.” Once again, he’s sketching. “You’d wear this, the crop top underneath but I have no idea how you’d show the boxers.”

“Make them low cut.” Jungwoo suggests, eyes trained on his phone momentarily when he crosses one leg over the other. “That way, the boxer’s band will be showing, and it will have Silhouette’s name there. I’d take off the jacket to show the statement piece.”

Yoonoh thinks about it, erasing the line at the waist before drawing the band, and his eyes glimmer at the image underneath him. Not as bad as he imagined it.

“Your ideas are good.”

“Thanks, I’m not just a pretty face.” Jungwoo jokes around, only standing up when the doors of the ballroom come open.

The theme of the photoshoot is simple. A party at the eighties, with beaming colors and disco balls. Darkened walls, confetti, everything has been added to highlight the idea Yoonoh had come up with. Nonetheless, his team is not the one barging in the room when the doors open, instead, he’s met with another darkened suit and a serious face that stares down at her agenda.

“Morning, people. I’m sorry I’m late. I was figuring out an issue at the penthouse, but I am here to help you with any form of decoration or with any question you may have.” The hotel manager stands there. Not that Yoonoh ever pondered they could not meet each other when he had specifically picked her hotel—he had walked through when entering the restaurant, and the three-stars help with the price, but the decorations are immaculate. Architecture its utmost beauty.

Now that he sees her, a smile spreads across his features. Maybe, a bit too soon—in a way that has him pushing it down because it is not possible to get that reaction out of him when it’s not faux. That woman had stood him up without even much of a reason, in the literal sense of the word, took those pretty legs away from the seat and walked away after they had been having fun.

He wore those leather pants. She owed him not leaving him in the middle of a restaurant with her meal and his to pay.

When she looks up at him, a few sentiments flash before her eyes, but he can’t guess any of them. He breathes out her name, capturing her off guard when she questions:

“You remember me?” Her voice is levelled as she moves forward, with a tinge of curiousness.

Yoonoh shrugs his shoulders in his fitted black sweater, paired with dark ripped jeans. “I wasn’t shitfaced. Just half-naked.”

That makes her frown deeply when she looks up at him again. “Don’t you dare say that out loud in front of anyone.” Soon after, she’s talking to Jungwoo. “I—Don’t listen to him. I’m the manager of this hotel and I have no business with this man.”

Jungwoo lifts his hands in the air. “None of my business, but please, do let me hear.”

He doesn’t know why it surprises him that Jungwoo likes gossip. “Why? You’re embarrassed of helping me out?”

“You’re saying it with double intentions.”

Yoonoh chuckles. “I wasn’t intending on anything the night we met.”

“Oh, come on.” She rolls her eyes, making him raise his eyebrows. That cynic voice in her is not something he expected. “We both know what kind of intentions you have with everyone. It seeps from you.”

“Seeps from me?”

“You had no issue going with some stranger after being kicked out of your…your hook up’s house and you were smiling and using those eyes on me and buddy,” She stops, a short laugh leaving her lips. Her index finger extends to point at him. “I’m not a charity case. I’m not in need of a man. I don’t need you to come around and cause me trouble, okay? If you’re here just to tease me instead of letting me do my job, then we’re off to a bad start.”

Offended is short for what he feels. Sure, he may not make a big deal out of hook ups, but it’s not like he’s the easiest man in the world. And if he was, why does she care?

“You’re the one talking about my eyes. I never made eyes at you.”

That makes her stop, holding her agenda to her chest before patting her ponytail in place. “Okay. Fine.”

“You just think you’re so much better than you, don’t you?” Yoonoh spites, crossing his arms across his chest, never once raising his voice.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, yes, you take care of your boss’ child. You’re so sweet and kind. So in synch with yourself you need no one’s company…” He trails off, pointing them out with the sharpness of his words. “That’s fine, but it’s not fine when you point fingers at people for being with other people. The twenty-first century is calling, they are here to say you can show someone your ankles without losing all sense of rightfulness.”

Scoffing, she shakes her head, a sarcastic smile appearing on her features. “Yoonoh, I know men like you.” She starts. The typical stance people have of him. Men like him. “You’re a…around with a bunch of women, and you use your good looks to your advantage, never care about anybody but you, never take anyone out on a date—”

He gets closer at that moment, lowering his eyes onto her lips before connecting them with hers. “…You wanted me to take you out on a date and that’s why you’re mad about me being a thot?”

“No!”

His hand reaches for one of her ears, laughing when he feels the heat. “Your ears are hot. Have something to tell me?”

“Where’s the person in charge of this photoshoot?” She slaps his hand away, turning to Jungwoo who has the biggest grin on his features.

“Oh, it’s him. The asshole Jung Yoonoh.” Jungwoo conquers with a flick of his finger before he expands his hands in front of them. “But please do continue. I love a good drama.”

“You?!” She gasps that word out as if it’s venom, a sharp intake coming after.

“Me.” Yoonoh retorts, a smirk appearing on his face. “And I happen to have lots of questions about this ballroom.”

He doesn’t, but he enjoys his next thirty minutes, trying to get the offense out of his body by having her carrying boxes—not heavy, but definitely bothersome when ordered by him—and giving her his phone number wrongly three times as she finished up the contract and the bill for the rent of the ballroom. Exasperation is short for what she feels, but as she’s working on that bill, he realizes something.

The shirt underneath her suit is a sunshine yellow, and he may change violet from the position of his desired color on her, because yellow makes her beam like never before. It gives her a powerful stance, standing out even in between seas of models posing around.

Though what she thinks of him has been a repetition of what he has heard before, somehow, he cares a little bit more when it comes from the one woman that has inspired him to do better with his designs. Not that she even cares about his position as a designer.

For her, he’s only another asshole who uses people to his will, and that’s only half correct.

###

“The sexual tension was so thick I had a hard time breathing. Seriously, it was like when I used to steal rated magazines when I was young!”

The maids cheer and giggle to themselves when Blue spits out another version of the story that she and Yoonoh supposedly wrote yesterday afternoon in the ballroom. She has to play with the lettuce of her sandwich, cheek squished against her palm as she watches Erika stare in between the seas of women, following after every reaction even when she doesn’t understand them.

“Blue, don’t say such words in front of Erika.” She tells them, biting on her densely sauce-coated sandwich, before breathing out softly. How could they think of Yoonoh as a dream when he’s obviously a womanizer dressed in sheep’s clothing?

Or the devil. He’s definitely the devil.

“Whatever.” Blue, in her eighties, moves the skirt of her gray uniform before picking up one of the maids. One of the youngest and the tallest, with a long black fringe and moon-bathed features. Chaewon, she thinks her name is. “He told her: ‘Need help with those boxes’?” She lowers her voice to be a faux deep vibrato. “And she said: ‘No, I can do it myself. Thank you.’” That time around, her voice lifts up.

“I don’t speak like that.”

“And then, he retorted by saying: ‘I know, but my arms are waiting to hold something. I think you’d rather it be boxes.’”

More screeches and giggles follow after that statement, and she rolls her eyes because he did say that.

Chaewon ends up being swooped over, rolled around in Blue’s hold before she’s cooing. “I was expecting him to lower her down and give her that kiss that she was definitely asking for with her gaze,” She imitates the actions by looking down at Chaewon. She’s an actress, even at such an old age. “She kept looking at his lips before she cut him off, and you had to say the way his eyes lingered on her…”

“Where was he looking?” One of the maids asks, organizing the towels in their little eating room when Blue lets of Chaewon to let her sit somewhere else.

“He wasn’t looking.” The manager defends, ears heated up…but because of the golden lights here, definitely.

“Everywhere! There was not a portion of her that he simply did not worship with his gaze alone. He wanted to ravish her like—”

More heat, and maybe, summer is coming around earlier than expected. “Blue, stop reading those romance books with naked men on the cover. They’re getting to you.”

Blue laughs at her antics, her curled gray hair jumping around when she takes a seat in front of her. She continues to bite on her sandwich. “Aw, come on, boss. You can’t expect us not to want to see you with that man.” She covers her mouth to lower her voice before whispering: “He’s sexy.”

“Jung Yoonoh is anything but that!” She defends, leaning back on her seat and trashing the last bit that was left of her sandwich. She opens her water bottle and gulps it quickly.

“Look at that heat!” One of the maids adds, and Chaewon nods in return. “How does he look like, Blue? He sounds like a dream.”

“Pecs over pecs over pecs. He had…” The oldest woman curves her hands in the air and the manager has to scoff.

“Stop thirsting over him.”

“His girlfriend over there will get jealous but you had to see that sweater on him. That man is lean and had the sweetest, prince-like face. But not the kind of prince that wants you for his kingdom, having you wearing proper dresses and greeting the crowd.” She stops for a second, thick silence lingering in the air before she adds. “But the kind of prince that sneaks you into the castle to show you ever room—”

“More sexualization, great.” Her knees buckle when she picks Erika up from her spot in between the maids. “I have a meeting with the valet team. You better stop talking about this if you don’t want me to talk with Sachiko about your disrespect towards our clients.”

She opens the door when Erika wraps her arms around her neck, turning around to wave to the maids. “Bye!”

“Bye-bye, honey!” Blue waves back, returning to the crowd to say: “And his hair—”

She has to close the door with a bang as a huff leaves her lips. Everything has been about Jung Yoonoh these days, but what is the sudden obsession to have her paired up with someone who will definitely shatter her to pieces?

Every thought about him shall be erased as soon as possible now that he has finished with his photoshoot. She won’t hear about Jung Yoonoh ever again.

###

“And then, she went on to call me a man-whore or something. Practically drawing me as the biggest scumbag to ever exist.”

It’s way over nine at night when he finally has the time to check over what the manufacturing team had done with the design that he had sketched for Jungwoo. He still needed to take his pictures for the event, asking the graphic design team to help him out with the deadline, but that’s the least of his worries. Johnny is by his side, lost in his phone as he listened to his story, being his support for another all-nighter.

He unfolds the blood red fabric of the crop top and smiles in delight. Fitted, with slits that could pierce well into the subject of edge, and some chains dangling in elegant curves towards the waist, with Swarovski diamonds in between. He continues to look through the pieces, pants and jacket as well, when he hears Johnny speaking up.

“She’s not wrong.” He says, still engraved on his phone. “You’re a bit of an ass and you haven’t been in a serious relationship ever since I met you. Even before that, you have been single and into hook-ups. Why are you bothered?”

“Because I am not like that. I don’t have the time to embark in a relationship, okay?” Yoonoh mutters out, placing the jacket down on the table to look at it more precisely. “She has this…this air of arrogance of thinking she’s better than me. I don’t know, like…she just thinks I am some kind of douchebag that gets to her nerves—”

“Yet, still you sketch her.” That is the moment he hears the pages of his sketchbook being flickered at. Yoonoh widens his eyes, turning around to close it just as he says:

“Let go of that!”

“They’re pretty. Don’t be a nerd about it.” Once again, Johnny has taken the sketchbook, turning around to keep it away from his hold. “Are you into BDSM or something? People talking down on you? Women hating you so badly that they are kinda into you?”

Hate. That word is enormous, and he wouldn’t like to use it when plotting what she feels for him. Strong dislike, let’s go with that. “I’m not.” He denies all allegations. “…You just have to see her.”

“Ass or tits?”

“Not that.” Yoonoh feels his own cheeks heating up as a smile takes over his features. Not that he had gotten to see a lot with how baggy her suits are, but attractive is short for how he would describe her. “It’s in the way she holds herself. She’s the quiet kind of powerful. With everyone, she is kind and understanding, and yet, her action speak louder than she does. She’s independent and doesn’t let anyone else help her, even if she’s over the top with assignments and—”

“And it kind of sounds like you’re paying a little too much attention to her.” Johnny closes the sketchbook at that moment, quirking an eyebrow at his friend. “What’s with you, Yoonoh?”

The man scoffs, shaking his head. “Nothing. Just saying. I’m so angry that she’s like that, I just—”

“No, you’re not angry. Real angry Yoonoh? It’s the kind of Yoonoh we see with Siyeon. Not this one, talking about how he loves someone’s kindness.” His eyes trail over to his sketchbook, then to the design for Jungwoo before he’s ripping one page out and jotting down a message for the manufacturing team. It’s alright, he just wants a few more diamonds. “Come on, man. Talk about it. Mama Seo used to say there are no secrets in this household.”

“What do you want me to say?” Annoyance seeps from his voice when he looks over his shoulder. “Yes, I was interested. Yes, I guess we kind of flirted. Yes, she still ran away and yes, she absolutely despises my guts?”

“…She blew you off.” Johnny says that as if it’s the biggest announcement in the world.

Yoonoh shrugs. “Yeah, so what? It’s not like I asked her or made it known—”

“For the first time in his life, Jung Yoonoh didn’t get blown, he got blown off!”

“Johnny, it’s not funny—”

“I have to see who this woman is.” Johnny gets his phone out of his pocket, opening his Instagram app before he’s lurking for her. “What’s her name?”

Maybe, curiousness got the best of him when he stands behind Johnny, looking over his shoulder when he rasps out her name.

“There we have her.” His friend announces just as he clicks on the first account. “Private. I can’t really see her face in the profile picture.” It’s the silhouette of a woman, most likely her, in a sunset. Her hands are fisted deep in her pockets and she must be looking at the sun. “Should I message her? Something like: ‘Hi, if you don’t want to date Yoonoh, I’m single and the second-best option’?”

He’s joking around, yet, Yoonoh stares longingly at that picture. Something about her is so lukewarm that he finds himself at peace. He has always liked everything scalding hot—his relationships, his hook-ups, his meals, even the days that he spends at the beach, but now, he is interested in silence and tranquilness. In that lukewarm nature that comes within her, never too cold, never too hot.

“No.” His voice sounds unused when he finally speaks up. “Leave her be.”

Johnny’s eyes inspect his features. “Dude…there is really something about her, isn’t it?”

“I’ll never know, I guess.” Yoonoh finalizes, shrugging his shoulders before moving towards the edge of the room and turning off the lights. “Let’s go, I’m starving.”

###

“I won’t take a bath! I don’t want to!”

Five days from Sachiko’s arrival and she already feels like breaking. Breaking down or breaking out of her home, one or the other. Erika screams at the top of her lungs while rushing out of the bathroom, still very much in her pajamas, to sit down in front of her TV and watch another cartoon.

She throws the towel over her shoulder, eyes half-closing from tiredness when she breathes out softly and approaches her again. “Erika, get in the bath. It’ll be quick.”

The little girl shakes her head, hugging her knees to her chest. “I don’t want to.”

“Sometimes, I don’t want to either, but you have to.” She announces, taking a seat next to her to run her fingers through her hair. “Come on, Eri, it’s just a bath.”

“Nope.” The little girl mumbles, growing more annoyed by the second.

“You’ll stink. You don’t want anyone to smell your scent if it’s bad.”

“It’s okay.”

“Someone will come visit us.” She doesn’t know why that’s the first excuse she comes up with. Truth be told, none of her friends live in this city, and her family are nowhere near either. Loneliness is something she is used to, and she doesn’t like being the house’s host all that much, either. “And you really like them, so we need to bathe you before they come.”

Erika raises her eyebrows, a big smile appearing on her face: “Peppa?”

“No, not Peppa.” From the back of her mind, she can’t think of anybody who will come here that Erika really likes. She’s not entirely obsessed with Blue, and the woman is too old to take a taxi here. She is not sure who Erika likes apart from her…and Sachiko is not here. “Ah…” Think, think, think. “Yoonoh, my…uh…my boyfriend. He’s coming over.”

The title makes her cringe, but Erika stands up in her couch, hair wild and little fists connecting to her shirt when she says: “He’s coming! You didn’t tell me!”

“Oh, I was just waiting for you to take a bath first.” She tries to sound smart, but this is the worst idea she could have. Sure, she saved his number when she was making that bill for the rented ballroom, but that has been about it. Never texted him, never planned to, much less to tell him to come over and pretend to be her boyfriend just so Erika takes a goddamned shower.

“I will! Hurray!” Erika moves away from the couch, rushing over to take off her clothes.

“I’ll go fill up the bathtub in a sec, okay?”

“Yes!”

This is the worst idea she has ever had.

By the time she hears the door to the guest room closing, she sighs deeply, going over to the kitchen to unplug her phone and look down at her contact list. Her heart is racing, eyebrows frowned in worry when she sees it in glimmering lights:

Jung Yoonoh (Never Respond. Not Even If You’re Dying).

She’s not dying, but she definitely feels like it.

Whenever she got a cut as a kid and she put a band-aid on it, she took the band-aid off in one harsh tug. It’d rip some hairs apart, but it wouldn’t hurt—it wouldn’t make her hesitate as much as she did. This is one of those decisions that need to be done that way; as if she’s drunk and she needs to call her ex, or as if buying that dress that she’ll never wear sounds like a good idea today.

The phone rings a few times and she paces back and forth in the kitchen, giving a few puffs out and jumping in place before she hears it.

“Hello?”

His voice is to die for. One of those melodies that anyone wants to hear when they are waking up, mumbling sweet nothings, promising whatever the hell sounds great at the time, and it’s so dangerous that it has her closing her eyes, trying to fight a shiver and not exactly of anxiousness.

“Yoonoh, I need your help.”

A bead of silence follows soon after, and it comes as a surprise when he mumbles her name. She hums in return. “Why are you calling me? How do you have my phone?”

“Don’t ask.” She tells him, about to start her rant when Yoonoh cuts her off with a deep chuckle.

“You stole it from my bill.”

Caught, yet, she places a hand on her waist. “I wanted to save it just in case you decided to call me and make my day more difficult.”

“Oh, if I called you, it’d be to ease any kind of stress.” He purrs out, making her groan out loud when a lighter laugh from him comes about. “What can I help you with, ice princess?”

“Stop it with the names.”

“Boss?”

“I said—”

“Stop it with the names, I know. I will.”

When there is another pause, she knows she can speak, so she does. “…Erika believes we are in a relationship.” He doesn’t scream at the idea or laugh straight at her face, so she sighs. “And she’s also like madly connected to you. Seriously, she never stops talking about you and how you were so cool and whatnot. She only agreed to bathing now that I told her my…” She clears her throat. Shit, this is awkward. “My boyfriend is coming to visit, but you’re my supposed boyfriend and you’re nowhere around. I was wondering if you could come over, I don’t know, for like thirty minutes and then leave, just to fulfill that promise.”

Another elongated silence comes soon after, but it’s followed by a hum from Yoonoh.

“You didn’t say we were friends,” He teases, and she rolls her eyes at his antics. “You still went on with the boyfriend thing. Something you want to tell me?”

“Erika thinks we are together.”

“Erika meaning you.”

“I would personally sew my lips if we were to be in a relationship, Yoonoh.”

He chuckles, though she hears some moving. “Why? You’d want to make out with me so badly that you would want to stop yourself?”

“You wish.”

“Kinda.” Yoonoh confesses and it sounds like a pin falling to the floor. It makes her anxious, because the idea of being trapped in his arms, mouths molding into each other, breaths mixing, tongue intertwining is not so bad when in theory. “So, where do you live?”

“You’re coming?”

“Yeah, but in like forty-five.”

With that, she gives him the address, only to hear Yoonoh breathing into the microphone.

“So, my dear girlfriend, my beloved future wife,” Those dramatics that come with him make her want to slice him in half, but she keeps on just for Erika. “…How long have we been together, exactly?”

“…Since my headaches started coming daily.” She responds, hearing pattering in the hallway. “Call me when you’re here, okay?”

Once she hangs up, she sees Erika ready for a bath by the kitchen’s door, waving her hands in the air.

“Let’s go!”

Kids are nightmares.

###

Epoch hats don’t fit him well, Yoonoh realizes as he sits on a little stool that barely can hold his weight, knees practically touching his chest as he plays tea-house with Erika and her babysitter. Or well, her mom’s worker that happens not to know how to say no.

Erika had gone over the top to make this a grand event, the Peppa Pig plushie he had brought with him when entering the apartment seated in front of Erika, while he stares ahead at the woman that has his mind a complete mess. She is wearing a pair of wings on her shoulders, and her clothing is different, still not letting him see much, but the baggy t-shirt and sweatpants still fit her nicely.

The roles are simple. Erika is the princess, and they are their Aunt and Uncle. Peppa Pig is her sister, and that’s about as much as he knows as he sips on the two-point-five milliliters of water with lemon that Erika dares call tea.

“More tea, please.” Yoonoh says when placing the small cup down and looking at the woman ahead of him. She is the one serving the tea, yet, she quirks an eyebrow at him.

“That’s your fourth cup.” She explains, shaking her head when he tries to reach for the tea. “You’ve already had enough. You’re doing it just to see me serving you.”

“While the sight is adorable, beautiful, this cup is the size of my pinky. I can’t even feel it going down my throat.” He waves the little cup in his pinky before trying to reach for the tea again. “I’ll serve myself if it makes you feel better.”

“You’re too sweet-mouthed…” She looks over at Erika, inspecting them with interest. “Sugarplum.”

“Sugarplum?” Yoonoh questions the nickname, pouring himself a cup of tea when snatching it from her hands before leaning his weight forward, taking a sip that has him downing the entire drink. “I’m not sweet, don’t know if you’re noticed.”

“Quite clearly.”

“May change my ways for you if you stop judging me.” His eyes trail over her features, the culprit of his playfulness spreading across his face.

“Oh, I happen to be very judgmental.”

“Get to know me,” He waves his finger on top of the cup, tracing the outline only to see her gulp soon after. “…I promise the last thing you’ll end up doing is hating me.”

Erika stands up in between the two, her little hands spreading on their chests when she says: “Princes and princesses don’t fight.”

“We’re not fighting, Eri.” She tells her, though she sends a glare his way. “Right, sugarplum?”

“Of course, beautiful.” He uses that same nickname, relishing on the way she seems to be seething at the name. Truth be told, he knows that she’s, at least, a bit attracted to him…but whatever is stopping her must be strong enough to have her stopping on her tracks that first night. His lips wrap up in a kiss he sends flying in the air before adding: “We actually love each other. My kingdom is now better because I have found my truest love.”

“Yeah…” She trails, looking over to the side before she takes a sip of her own tea. “How’s the collection going?”

That question surprises him. She must have supposed he was a designer, much more after all he did in her hotel, but he didn’t think she was paying attention from up close.

“It’s not a collection.” Sweetly, he corrects, voice lowered when he puts the cup down. “I—I’m only working on this one fit. An outfit. We design lingerie, as you could see. I’m normally in the women design department, but my boss which is an absolute…” He stops, looking at Erika. “Witch, changed me to the men’s department just to freak up my head.”

A small chuckle trips out of her lips at the choices of his cusses. “So, you were designing Jungwoo’s fit?”

“Precisely.” Yoonoh takes his phone out of his pocket before displaying something only for her to see. “Erika, you can’t see this. It’s…it’s not something you should be seeing, okay?”

And actually, she listens. Yoonoh can’t understand why she says that Erika never listens to anybody. Her eyes trail over to Jungwoo, and the way they scan up and down have something within him tugging his phone away.

“That’s my design.”

“You’re talented.” Those words shouldn’t weight as much as they do, but he hasn’t heard them in a while. Perhaps, in two years. “If only you weren’t so much of a butt-face whenever we speak, I’m sure that part of you would show through.”

“What part of me?”

“The part that doesn’t try to hide that you care.”

That’s the moment Yoonoh backs away, because he shouldn’t care. It’s easier to go through life without caring about the people around you. The small stool falls behind him just as he stands up, clearing his throat after a harsh swallow.

“I have to go.”

Erika stands up as well, eyes widened. “Is it because she called you butt-face?”

Yoonoh chuckles, ruffling her hair with one hand. “No, I—I think I left my stove on at home.”

He hears the sound of her picking up her keys, nodding in the process. “I’ll walk you there. Don’t worry. Erika, stay here.”

The hallway that leads to her door is far too cramped for the two of them, his shoulders brushing with hers as they walk alongside each other. The part of you that doesn’t try to hide that you care; it’s not like he cares about her past the normalcy of two people who happen to be attracted towards each other buy deny it—

He turns around, his chest expanding with each breath that she takes, oxygens mingling when he looks down at her features, those lips that he would have kissed if granted the permission, but instead he asks:

“Is that why you hate me?”

She doesn’t listen, a deer caught in the headlights when she questions: “What?”

“Because you think I don’t care. Is that why you hate me?” He questions, only to have her shaking her head. His fingers hook a strand of her hair behind her ear, feeling the heat of her skin, much like that one time he had touched it.

“I don’t hate you.” She confesses, honest and yet surprising, before she breathes out in a shudder. “…Sometimes, it’s better to not wonder, Yoonoh. Not be curious about people like you. Not because you’re bad, but because you’re not right, either.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Stop looking at my lips, it distracts me.”

Yoonoh trails his eyes up before engulfing the words in his plush lips. “And what about you?” He questions. “If I’m all types of wrong, what are you?”

“All the different types of wrong that aren’t yours.” She says, just as his chest brushes with her own again, her stomach extending, back bending, body molding closer to his just because of electricity and gravity, she opens the door, releasing a breath that feels like a million pounds of weight. “Good night, Yoonoh, and thank you.”

He nods, and while he wants to return the words, he can’t.

###

Four Years Ago.

She never came back.

Sometimes, Yoonoh felt stupid for believing that there was someone in the other side of the computer. That said chatroom that had once started as complete curiousness had now turned into something else, tangible, present in his every day. He was young, his eyes wandered, his mind stopped thinking about the importance of his future and he thought that Dami was it. The woman of his dreams, the picture that he couldn’t take out of his head when he laid still at night and looked at his ceiling.

His friends made fun of him, because this is not the Jung Yoonoh that had gotten secret notes during Valentine’s Day in high school with love confessions and promises of marriage. This was a young man, seated in front of a computer, waiting for an answer. Waiting for the day she returned, after she said that she’d come back. It was only supposed to be a lunch break, but with no contact other than this chatroom, than what they had in social media, how was he supposed to get in touch with her?

JJH1997: Hey, did I do something wrong? (Three weeks ago.)

JJH1997: Hello! How are you doing? Are you okay? (Three weeks ago.)

JJH1997: I bought that one record you told me about. (One day and a half ago.)

JJH1997: [Picture Attached]. (One day and a half ago.)

JJH1997: Are you mad? (Thirteen hours ago.)

JJH1997: I’m sorry if I offended you. (One hour ago.)

The reply he got soon after, as he was studying for one of his finals, had him widening his eyes. She had not answered in weeks, this was the best news he could hear—

DAMISONG96: This is her husband. Who are you? (Just Now).

His hands shook, trying to find the words to say. Husband. All this time, he had been talking about a future with someone with a husband…

DAMISONG96: I’ve just read your messages. Stop talking to my wife, you fucking kid.

[This contact has blocked you].

The worst part was that he could never know if it was a catfish, if the person he talked about was real…or, actually, that he could never apologize, perhaps for ruining a marriage that he never knew of.

Love doesn’t come easy when you don’t know how to trust.

###

The reason why he became a lingerie designer instead of any other kind of designer is because of the subtlety. His friends think that it is because of the obvious love Yoonoh has for the human body, but as he sits on the front row of his own show, staring at the Silhouette designs his team had worked on, with harsh white lights matching the upbeat and bass-boosted songs that have models swinging their hips from side to side, he feels proud and more.

Jungwoo is the next one to come, and all signs of his beam is long forgotten as he struts down that runway. At first, he does it simply, how he’s taught, the buttons of his jacket are done, undoing them as he walks to showcase the crop top underneath, only pulling it down and turning around to throw the jacket aside and show the top and the chains, along with Silhouette’s name on the band of his boxers. It’s perhaps something not seen in the streets, but he can imagine celebrities falling in love with the design.

He’s concentrated on the faces of the people ahead of him, cheers resounding around the air as Jungwoo finishes off his catwalk. The invitees seem to be overjoyed, and just when a smile creeps up his features, fixing his stance in his tailored black suit, he feels a hand spreading on his thigh, a chuckle being breath out in his ear.

“You’ve done a great job, Yoonoh.” Siyeon speaks with certainty, and to anyone, they are just two friends congratulating each other. He does great work in feigning a smile when turning to her, but what he says is not so kind.

“Thank you. I’m known for that.”

“I know…if we don’t compare that to your organization problems and your endless witty mouth.” Siyeon starts clapping when another model comes around before a beam appears on her features.

Something doesn’t feel right.

“…And what about it?”

Siyeon’s long silver earrings move when she turns to him, quirking an eyebrow in the process. “Well, you see, Yoonoh, the reason why I wanted you to craft a showstopper and to leave with a bang is because…” The acids in his stomach go up, nervousness creeping up on him, trying to keep the dimples there to no avail. “You’re no longer going to be part of our team. Out of all the designs you’ve done, this is your best, but you proved yourself right a little too late. Sorry.”

She’s not sorry, and he knows this. The smile that he has fought so hard to keep there is no longer of his interest as he stands up, pointing at her while scowling.

“You can’t do that.”

“Yoonoh, you’re making a scene.” She tries to chuckle through her words.

“I’ve been working for this fucking company for two years and I haven’t slacked once.”

“Says you,” Siyeon shrugs. “I’m in charge, Yoonoh, and I saw you’re slacking.”

“Fuck you.”

“Have heard that before.”

The air around him engulfs him in a way that almost makes him feel like he’s trapped. He’s out of the expensive hotel Siyeon had found in seconds, but yet, he feels like he has run a marathon. His eyes concentrate anywhere, hand coming up to his chest, his dream shattered when trying to give this company another chance—

The night whisks him in the face as he runs, not caring to grab a taxi, not minding that he feels like his life is falling down…because this is stupid. Life is so fucking ironic that he hates it. He trusts people? He ends up losing. He doesn’t trust them? They never believe him.

What’s the realest way to get a happy ending? He’ll never know.

###

Eight hours of sleep feel marvelous once she gets them back.

Not only has she gotten to return her calls, but it doesn’t smell like baby food in her apartment and she gets to take a break from Peppa Pig. Erika had been sad when letting go of her, pressing her face to her stomach in a hug before she was off to holding onto her mother for dear life. Her paycheck came around, life was good, and this night was excellent with the bag of savory chips she had just opened.

The crunch is the only thing that can be heard, mingling with the noise of the romantic movie she is watching, tears wielding her vision and yet, she pushes them away. Tragedies are the best form of romance—when both characters have gone through so much that finding happiness in each other feels a thousand times more personal. Perfect, even. It’s a nice chance for her romantic comedy binge from earlier.

The air is interrupted when she hears someone ringing her doorbell, and that brings a frown to her features. First, she’s not waiting for anybody. Secondly, she had been crying just now. Grabbing a napkin, she taps it against her ears and waltzes over to the door to see who is standing by the door through the peephole.

And if there was a sight that could capture her breath away just as much as it could make her be excited about something, it’s this.

Yoonoh stands outside her door, with the buttons of his shirt half-opened, a peak of his shirt showing, his jacket thrown haphazardly over one forearm, and if only this peephole let her see lower, she would relish on the strength of his thighs. Confusing or not, as well as a bit annoying, one can’t deny that Yoonoh is extremely handsome. Taken out of a magazine, even.

She opens the door softly, unaware of why he is there. Today, the runway for Silhouette should be happening and yet, he’s here, at 10:45 at night, with his hair made a mess and his eyes trailing on her.

“Yoonoh,” He doesn’t stop looking at her eyes, a frown in his features. “Hi…uh…may I help you with something?”

“You’re right.” He starts, entering her house just as she moves to the side. He must be in a rush. The door closes behind her. “I try not to care about things. I don’t take relationships seriously. I’m an asshole at most times. I’m fake and boring and quite clearly, all kinds of wrong.” Well, that is a statement. She knows there is some good for Yoonoh. He’s always one call away, he’s organized, he’s given. He’s strong and rampant and fiery, in that way that have people shuddering in their spots.

“So?”

“So, yes, I’m fucking tired of being that because it doesn’t work.” He stands in front of her now, in that same hallway that had trapped them weeks ago and had managed to make her even more confused. “I just lost my job and I don’t know what the hell I am going to do with my life. I was used and—fuck!”

Her heart weights down when he admits that. “Why would you lose your job? That outfit you designed for Jungwoo is amazing…”

“Because my new boss hates me, just like you do.”

“I said I didn’t hate you.”

“Then why?” Yoonoh questions. “Why did you run away that night? What about me is so repulsive that you can’t even look my way without frowning when all I have been thinking about since that moment I saw you in the restaurant, in nice light, after getting me some clothes, is that you’re the kindest and most humble woman I have ever met and I would do my fucking best to kiss away every fucking insecurity you have about me?”

Silence comes to be awkward around them. Or, well, filled with tension. But this silence is of understanding. Yoonoh’s eyes that night, that had scanned her with such intricacy, had thought about the same things that she did. And yet, she had let it slide—because it’s easier to fear than to try, to run away than to stay.

“Because…you’re difficult, Yoonoh.” She states. “And I don’t mean it in a bad way. I just know…I know I would like you.” That makes her ego blot down the slightest. “And then, when you realize that kissing me is not enough, that waking up to me is not enough, that I won’t give you whatever interesting shit you were doing when I found you outside that house, you’ll leave…and I’m not at an age or time in my life where I want to see you leave without an explanation. I don’t.”

He finally reconnects his gaze with her eyes. “The explanation here is simple,” He conquers. “You’re beautiful. Each part of you I get to see and each part I don’t. Every bit of my imagination can only think about you, so much that everything I design is everything my mind gushes about and can only perceive on you. It’s stupid enough that…” He chuckles at his own antics, leaning his head back on the wall. “That I think about what color fits you best and I am certain it’s not the navy blue you like to use. It’s yellow, because you’re so bright it practically burns my fucking eyes. You’re so smart and given and you don’t even let me tell you that, because you’re always…pushing me away.”

“Yoonoh—” Her heart flutters at his words, but he doesn’t stop talking.

“And you’re your own kind of goddess and it drives me insane, because I was the type of dumbass that didn’t like the chase, but each and every time I hear you speak, I just want to tease you more and…” He stops for a second, finally fixing his position to look at her. “I just wanted you to know, because if I’ll never get a chance, at least I want to say I—”

Silences are what made them. It’s what she likes the most about him, when he’s silent and concentrated, when all his might goes to one thing and one thing only. She doesn’t know what overtakes her at that moment, when her lips clash against his in a dance that it’s much too passionate. She can’t keep up with whatever she wants to do, her hands hooked around his waist to mold him against the wall, his abdomen carved against hers when a groan traps itself on the back of his throat and he grabs the back of her head, taking more of her in, granting himself entrance, rubbing his lips in a tempting touch before he’s diving in for air…and she’s his oxygen.

Yoonoh’s hold is not strong, overly passionate, tumbling. In his own way, Yoonoh is delicate. It’s just when she kisses him that she realizes there is a beautiful thing to Jung Yoonoh. The delicacy he portrays in lingerie, that translate into his utter fears. The pristine glass he is when she caresses his neck with a touch of her mouth and he shudders while grasping the back of her shirt, asking to see her—to be seen.

When heartbreak happens, there is always a dot. That one finalization of a chapter in your heart that aches insufferably. Her dots connected to him, in one way or another, in the moles in his face or the way he begs to connect to her lips again when she pulls away. He’s gravity when she asks to be taken to her room in one simplistic glance and he’s smiling by the time he puts her down on the sheets.

Over all, Yoonoh is a lover of beauty, and maybe, for once in her life, she feels like art, just when he throws her shirt over her head, staring down at small portions of her body being shown before showing that dimple that she had trained herself to hate.

But who is she kidding? She didn’t hate it at all.

“…You were forbidding me of this.” He points at her body, earning laughter from her, ears heated up under his gaze. “And for that, I’ll never forgive you.”

That night, it’s not a promise of love—it’s lust mixed with something else, that fluttering feeling of having a crush, maybe, or the start of something…how he calls it…beautiful.

###

Normally, Yoonoh doesn’t text. He hooks up with someone, leaves it in the air, then moves on to working. Awakening in his lover’s bed, having breakfast with her, arguing in that way that only they know how to do—playfully, of course—and then having to see him himself off just so she can go to work, however, is completely different.

Just as he lays on his bed midway through the day, he looks at her contact. Missing her would be a statement, and it would be absolutely correct. His gut twists, not knowing exactly what to say—new and yet old in this dating thing.

Uh, can he call it that? They haven’t even gotten out on a date.

Yoonoh: We haven’t gotten out on a date.

Yoonoh: Do you want to?

She must be near the phone, because she replies quickly.

Beautiful: If I slept with you, I obviously want to go on a date with you.

Beautiful: Duh.

There is the bite that he likes, enough to bring a smile to his face before he’s biting down on his lip.

Yoonoh: You didn’t sleep with me when I was employed, wearing suits, confident and flirty. Your standards? Very low.

Beautiful: You’re complaining? Because I could not do it again.

Yoonoh: Who said I was complaining? I was trying the whole time and just when I’m a huge loser, I get the girl.

His life seems to be twisted in circles, cycles that he don’t know how to stop, but a text from her gives him hope that he’ll figure it out.

Beautiful: You’re not a loser. I don’t date losers.

Beautiful: Dinner tonight? I brought a sandwich, but that’s bland.

Yoonoh: It’s a date.

A few seconds pass by before he’s typing again.

Yoonoh: Wait, how do you have me saved in your phone?

A screenshot comes soon after, and he doubles over in laughter when he sees ‘Sugarplum (DNI)’.

###

She has forgotten how to say it, and it’s not like it’s another language, but nervousness clads her every pore just as she sits down by a table at Erika’s seventh birthday party.

Five months into this dating thing, and she doesn’t understand most of it. What she knows is that it feels great. Waking up next to Yoonoh—her place or his—, being kissed on the cheeks, on her forehead, only to be ravished by one of those kisses that he only knows how to give. To watch him grow away from his fears and create his own lingerie line, obviously with the support of his model friends that were eager to take pictures with his pieces and make do with what they have.

It’s difficult, but just as Yoonoh lowers Erika after hoisting her up in the air, always charming with her and with anyone, she doesn’t know how to say it. You know, those three words that have captured her ever since Yoonoh smiled at all her baby pictures, or when he spends some extra time in the kitchen making her favorite meal just because he feels like pampering her.

Three words that she has said before, even jokingly, and yet, she’s petrified.

The trees are tall in the backyard of Sachiko’s home, yellows and reds contrasting the feeling in her heart. It’s pure pink, just like the glow on Yoonoh’s cheeks or that set he had once sewed himself just for her, the one that he never gets enough of and still groans at. Childish music and cake should be enough to calm her down, but just as Yoonoh plops himself alongside her, resting his head on his forearm on the picnic table she’s by, all words she had practiced are lost.

How does he have that effect after five months?

“Erika loved the gift.” Even their gifts had been united. From Uncle Prince and Aunt Princess, they had written on the note. A doll that she had been screaming about months ago when they had visited her.

That word, even he is saying it. If Jung Yoonoh is capable of spitting it out, why couldn’t she—?

“You look like you’re sick.”

That makes her sigh. “Thanks. I don’t see you complaining.”

Yoonoh’s smile grows wider at that, rolling a piece of her hair in between his index finger. “I like the sick look.” He replies. “Something about the sight of a girl who wants to throw up on me. So sexy I could take you to a bathroom right now and just—”

“Yoonoh!”

“There it is, not so sick anymore. Now you’re angry.” He has his ways, she has to admit, and even when finds herself laughing when he changes that glimmer of his eyes that always gets him what he wants. “What’s with you?”

She opens her mouth, placing a piece of cake inside of it—just a little bit too big—when she says: “I love you.”

Or whatever can be understood in between a mouthful of cake.

Yoonoh quirks a perfectly styled brow. “You what?”

“I love you.” She utters out, swallowing soon after before giving him a smile. “Okay, alright, I’m done here—”

His hands gravitate to her hips before she could stand up, sitting her down on his thigh and bringing her face to his by her chin before asking, much too close and too softly for her to ever resist him. “You what?” He repeats, much more delicately, and finally, she finds the reason to stop being nervous.

Those brown eyes look from her eyes to her lips, never getting enough of her, never knowing how to battle the thoughts that show on his features. That kind of adoration she has never gotten before, and that is worth trying for.

She hides her face in his neck, breathing in his scent before spitting out: “I love you.”

It brushes against his skin, tickles him in a way that has him tightening his hold before he replies: “Sounds so good when someone means it.” And that confession is only meant for her to be understood, before he’s pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “I love you, too.”

#jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun #nct scenarios #nct #kpop scenarios #writing #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #jaehyun au #nct fluff #nct angst #nct au

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nejibaby · 3 years

Text

Fun

Pairing: Monkey D. Luffy x F!Reader

Summary: With you near-death experience in Dressrosa, you’re craving for a certain type of release.

Warning: NSFW!

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: A certain Luffy fanart has made me think of dirty thoughts about him so here I am posting this filthy thing. I’m so flustered, it’s not even kinky but writing smut really flusters me LOL 🤣 Please let me know your thoughts~

Celebrations are usual occurrences in the Straw Hat crew. Despite only having almost half the crew around, it doesn’t make the party any less lively. In fact, the presence of the new allies formed in Dressrosa makes up for the absence of the other crew members.

The near-death experience makes you crave for a certain type of release. And with the copious amount of alcohol being passed around by everyone, it doesn’t take you too long to gather up courage to find someone to help you.

Soon enough, you’re seated on a random guy’s lap, heavily making out with him, a few meters away from the celebrating people. Because of the alcohol, you’re not entirely sure who he is, but you have to admit he’s skilled at using his lips, his tongue, and his hands.

He’s just about to move you into a more private location, but before he could take you away, an arm wraps itself around your waist and suddenly you’re being pulled back into someone else’s lap.

You look at the person who just interrupted your moment, only to be surprised upon finding out it was your captain. “Luffy, what the hell?!”

“Oi, what were you doing with Torao?”

Torao? Trafalgar Law? You whip your head to where you previously were to confirm if the guy who you were with is truly him. Lo and behold, you find Law glaring at Luffy, and then angrily walking away.

You pout and let out a frustrated huff. “Ah, we were just having fun. I’ll just—” you point towards where Law went, “head back so we can...” you absentmindedly trail off, and then you attempt to get up from Luffy’s lap. Keyword: attempt. Because Luffy grips your legs so you couldn’t leave.

You furrow your brows at his actions. Just as you are to ask him why he’s keeping you there, he asks, “Why don’t you want to have fun with me?”

You swear your brain short circuited the moment his question left his lips. If you’re sober, you’re certain you would’ve taken his question innocently. But with the alcohol fogging up your mind, you aren’t sure if he’s just sulking because he wants you to party with him or if he’s inviting you to continue what you’ve been doing a while ago but with him instead of Law. And so, you want to clarify what he means. “What?”

Luffy giggles at your dumbfounded expression. He thought you didn’t hear him from the noise everyone is making, so he leans in, his lips almost touching your ear as he unconsciously rubs your thighs while saying, “I said, why don’t you want to have fun with me?”

And then he pulls away, waiting for your answer.

It isn’t easy to fluster you, but with Luffy’s proximity, the way his hands are moving, and the fact that you’re still aroused after the interrupted makeout session, you find yourself being affected by his question and it’s underlying meaning.

“I, uhm, I-I…” you stutter, unable to look at him in the eyes. You attempt to look elsewhere but suddenly your eyes land on his lips.

You’ve heard of people before who talked about how Luffy has his way of drawing people in and making them his allies. Right now that’s exactly what he’s doing with you, drawing you in — except, he’s doing it quite literally.

Before you know it, you’re leaning into him, and then your lips are on his. He smiles into the kiss before pulling you impossibly closer.

Luffy’s kisses are rather messy and uncoordinated, but it quickly makes you feel lightheaded and excited.

You’re so caught up with the moment to the point that it didn’t occur to you that you have instinctively started grinding on him. You’re only made aware of your actions when you hear Luffy groaning in pleasure. And that’s when you start wanting more, but you’re both still on the deck and there are still drunk people around, even if you both aren’t near them.

Luffy tries to follow your lips when you pull away. And then he pouts when your lips are out of reach. He whines your name, obviously wanting to continue.

“Luffy, I… we should… uhm…” you clear your throat. “I want you,” you whisper.

But Luffy isn’t even listening. His focus is solely on your lips and when you bite your lip nervously, he almost shivers in anticipation.

You take this opportunity to drag him into his room. Thankfully, he doesn’t object nor ask any questions, he just follows your lead. And when you’ve entered his room, you immediately lock the door and start kissing him once again.

You gently nudge Luffy to his bed, not even daring to break the kiss in the process. For some reason, the kiss turns rougher than before, almost feral.

When Luffy reaches the bed and sits down on it, you immediately climb on his lap. You grab a hold of his calloused hands and guide them under your tank top, towards your breasts. He kneads them instantly and you let out a whimper.

Luffy pulls away from the kiss. He removes his hands from under your tank top, and then the next thing you know, he’s tearing up the offensive garment. You haven’t even asked why he did that but he explains already, “It was in the way! I want to feel you better.”

If that’s the case, you unhook your bra and throw it somewhere in the room before he’d even think about ripping it off as well.

Luffy takes a moment to stare at your half naked form. With the way your boobs are slightly moving with every breath you take, he easily finds himself in a trance.

You snap him out of it by grinding on his bulge. You pull him in again for a kiss and he instantly cups your breasts with his hands again. He kneads your boobs and pinches your nipples, and you let out soft mewls in satisfaction.

You bite his lip and he lets out a sexy grunt. You palm his hardened cock and it instantly makes him breathless. He calls your name with a quiver in his voice.

You grab one of his hands and bring it under your skirt, inside your panties and urge him to touch your cunt. “You’re wet,” he breathlessly comments.

You slip one of his fingers into you, guiding him in and out. When he’s found his rhythm, you let go of his hand and let him do as he pleases. He adds another finger soon enough. The sensation elicits a moan from you.

“Do that again,” Luffy says. “Do that sound again.”

You oblige, resting your head on his shoulder as you moan at his ministrations.

You use this time to unzip his pants and tug his cock from the garments. When you start pumping him, he lets out a lewd groan and temporarily stops his fingers from moving. This goes on for a while and when Luffy starts moving his hips with the motion of your hands, you stop.

You pull away completely from him. And then you start stripping him off of his clothes until Luffy’s naked. You watch as he licks his fingers clean from the wetness of your cunt and he hums in appreciation. When he’s done, you take off your remaining clothes as well.

You grab a hold of his dick once again and kiss him on the lips. Your hand movements are slow as you switch from kissing his lips to his neck. You leave a couple of hickeys on him. Then you slowly make your way down, kissing, sucking, licking, biting his chest, his abs, until you’re on your knees, face directly in front of his dick.

He watches you with half lidded eyes, a look that you’ve never seen before on him. You look directly at him as you make kitten licks on his cock. You watch as he visibly gulps. And then you take him in your mouth and start sucking him off. Luffy pants and grunts at your ministrations. You then grabbed his balls and massaged them.

“That feels so good,” he moans.

Luffy uncontrollably juts his hips, wanting more of the pleasurable sensation you’re making him feel. And you let him.

But when you feel his cock twitching, you pull away.

Luffy whines loudly, but you push him so that he’s laying on the bed. You climb atop him, grab his shaft and coat it with your wetness. And then you slowly sink down until he’s fully inside you.

“T-tight…” Luffy mutters, “you’re so tight.”

You wait until you’ve fully adjusted to his size before you start moving. Luffy stares at you in desire as you move on top of him, your tits bouncing with every motion. He watches your face with fascination as he’s never seen your face contort with pleasure like this before. And for some reason, this makes him harder.

Then his body moves on his own, too lost in lust, his hands start squeezing your breasts, his hips start thrusting into you.

When he notices you tiring down, he easily flips the position so that you’re under him. All that’s going through his head is how good you make him feel.

“Luffy… fuck… so good…” you moan out loudly, unable to even make a proper sentence.

He snaps his hips faster and rougher as time progresses. He’s pounding into you so hard that the bed starts creaking and the headboard slams against the walls.

But those sounds are nothing compared to the noises the both of you are making. You have resorted to repeating his name like a mantra along with profanities here and there, while Luffy grunts and moans to your ears, sometimes telling you how amazing you feel.

All too soon, you’re clenching against him so tightly as you climaxed. This brings out a more brutal pace from Luffy as he starts chasing his own high. And when he releases his load in you, you almost shudder at the feeling.

When Luffy pulls out, he notices your juices leaking out of you. And before you can even comprehend what he’s planning, he starts licking.

Your breath hitches from the stimulation, but Luffy doesn’t stop until you’re completely clean.

And when he’s done, he’s grinning widely at you.

“Luffy, that’s…” you start to say, but you didn’t know what word or words you’re supposed to use. Hot? Sexy? Best fuck you’ve had in a while?

Before you can even come up with what to say however, Luffy tells you, “That was fun! We should do that again!”

#one piece scenario #one piece imagines #one piece x reader #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy x reader #one piece scenarios #one piece luffy #one piece lemon #one piece smut #luffy lemon #monkey d. luffy #monkey d luffy #one piece imagine #op luffy #luffy smut #straw hat luffy #mugiwara no luffy

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years

Note

Hi! First of all, your writing is ASTOUNDING. I adore how you characterize. Secondly, I have a prompt idea:

A Villain who is falling in love with a Hero, but won’t admit it to themself. They stop being able to effectively fight Hero because they don’t want to hurt them. But Supervillain notices, so they capture Hero and use them to lure Villain in.

-Wicky

🥺🥺🥺 Thank you so very much! You just made my day. I thank you for the compliment and the prompt! I sure hope I did it justice, and I hope you enjoy!

CW//Injuries, threats, implied torture

Villain’s world spun as their skull cracked against the rough concrete of the roof. Opening their eyes, their field of vision was filled with only an array of stars.

Everything hurt.

They were convinced, in that moment, that there was not an inch of their flesh that was left unbruised, not a rib left unfractured. Breathing on its own was an ordeal, an ordeal that they endured only out of pure necessity.

Pain rippled through the stocks of jelly they had once called limbs as the villain scrambled first to hands and knees, and finally to their feet, even as unsteady as they were. They could do nothing but gasp as they faced down their opponent.

There was something in Hero’s eyes. Something that even their nemesis, their sworn, life-long foe could not quite name. It was not quite sympathy, no, but it was not quite pity, either. Something inbetween, perhaps, with only the slightest garnishing of regret.

“Come on, Villain.” It was with a pleading tone that the hero spoke, as though attempting to coax a frightened cat down from the top branches of a Redwood tree. “Just stand down! You can’t win this. We have you surrounded. No harm will come to you- No more harm.”

Yet, the villain only shook their head.

For any outsider, the matchup would have looked more like a massacre, waiting to happen. Villain themself was perhaps not the picture of musculature, but what villain was? No, they may not have been the strongest. But everyone knew what power they held in their palms, the lightning they could unleash at will. Enough to topple the building upon which they stood. Enough to topple the whole city, perhaps. The city had yet to so much as see their full potential.

But it was their potential that the villain now refused to use.

Hero, on the other hand, was... well, they weren’t much. As strong as they were, as clever, as smart, superstrength could only do one so much good. Villain could have destroyed them in passing, with the snap of a finger!

Why wasn’t the hero in the nearest emergency room? Even Villain themself wasn’t entirely sure.

“I’m not giving up, asshole!” They snarled, balling their hands to fists. It would be so easy. So very simple to send a torrent of lightning forth, to shock Hero within an inch of their life. Hell, Villain used their powers to make popcorn on the weekends!

But, they couldn’t. They couldn’t imagine Hero, the poor thing, the pitiful little fool, fallen to the ground. The very thought of using their powers against their opponent made them feel sick.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Hero spoke, eyes wide and glimmering with that same mix of sympathy and regret.

“Too bad.”

And, with that, the rooftop once more became a battleground. Villain surged forward, met in the center by their nemesis. A blow to the side of their head sent them stumbling.

They couldn’t go on like this, they knew as their vision clouded once more with stars. Another hit and they would be unconscious, in the custody of the so-called good guys. They couldn’t do that.

They had two choices.

Three. Three choices.

The first? To take the hit. To bite the bullet, to find themself behind bars.

The second? To hurt Hero. To wipe that oh-so-innocent quiver from their lips. To destroy-

No. They had two options. That wasn’t even on the table. Villain could be beaten, or they could flee.

It was with a shivering gasp that they chose the second.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Sidekick placed down their fork with a resounding clack. In the silent room, the sound resembled the ring of a gong.

“Are you absolutely certain you’re alright?” They asked with a quirked brow. With the day turning to evening, they had left their sidekick’s uniform behind, replaced now with a casual set of garments. After all, the restaurant at which they were eating was far from fancy. That wasn’t the type of villain that their mentor was.

“Of course I’m alright. Do I look like some kind of ailing senior citizen?” Villain muttered under their breath as they looked over in displeasure at their sidekick. For someone so young, they certainly had a mouth.

“Not now. But on the battlefield last night-”

“I’m fine. I’m up and walking, aren’t I?”

“It’s not about that.” Sidekick shook their head. “It was in the battle. You could’ve taken out Hero easy-”

“Keep your voice down, we’re in public.”

“Sorry.” They lowered their tone. “But, I’ve seen you take Hero out dozens of times. Recently, though, you’ve been all over the place. You can’t even land a single hit! I’m worried. You’ve lost your edge. Up on that rooftop, it was like you were somewhere else entirely.”

Villain had been somewhere else entirely, not that they would ever dare to admit it. They had been lost, hopelessly lost- Lost in the eyes of their damn nemesis.

“I just wasn’t on the ball. Everyone has off days.” They grumbled, turning their embarrassed gaze away.

“Everyone has off days. But you’ve been having an off month! Don’t think I haven’t noticed that it’s just them. Just Hero.”

“They’re getting better.”

“So are you.”

“Really, I’m fine.”

Sidekick reached across the table, placing their palm upon the back of their mentor’s hand, which had unconsciously been balled into a fist.

“You nearly got captured, last night. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Villain. If you’re sick, if something’s wrong, anything at all, you need to tell me.”

Villain suddenly spotted something very interesting on their shoes, and kept their gaze fixed there.

“It’s stupid.”

“Are you sick? Everyone gets sick sometimes, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Not sick.”

“Then what?”

Villain gritted their teeth.

“Lovesick.”

Sidekick withdrew their hand in shock.

“What?”

“Look, it’s stupid! I don’t know. I shouldn’t be feeling that way about a hero, but- They’re a good person, I swear it. They want to help, and they’re kind, and I just can’t bear the thought of hurting them. What if I changed them? What if I hurt them, and that was what made them lose hope, lose faith? Then that’d be on my shoulders!”

“You’re saying...” Sidekick’s jaw was still ajar in shock. “You’re saying that you can’t fight Hero, because you’re in love with them?”

Villain looked up with a sigh.

“To put it shortly, I suppose.”

The both of them were shocked as a figure appeared next to their table. A sharply-dressed figure with a notepad.

“Are you two ready to order?”

“Yes, my apologies.” Villain cleared their throat. They and their sidekick presented their orders, which the waiter scrawled down with a series of understanding nods.

It was not until that particular waiter disappeared from the dining room that they slipped out of their disguise, and dialed a number into their phone.

“Hey, Boss? You might wanna hear about this.”

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To say Villain was in a bad mood would have been an understatement.

The injuries covering every last inch of their body, too, ached with every step they took. Bruises and beatings rippled, forcing them nearly to limp. Yet, they forced their gait to remain normal, even if it meant pain.

They couldn’t call attention to themself. Not when they were in civilian clothes like this, and not when they were on the streets. Still, they kept their head low and their sweatshirt hoodie up as they went along. No need to stick out in the crowd.

This was the only solace they ever got, after all. When some got frustrated, they would go for a drive in the night. But their vehicle was distinctive enough that that wasn’t an option for the villain.

Instead? They walked, moving along with the crowd as though they were a single fish in a school. Usually, this helped them calm down. Now, however, every step they took only made their thoughts spin more wildly.

First, it was Hero. Hero and their stupid eyes. Then it was Sidekick. It wasn’t that Sidekick had confronted them that made them so worried, it was that they’d noticed at all.

That meant that other people out there might spot their weakness. Might use it as an advantage. Who would it be, though? Hero themself? Or, even-

A gasp rippled through the crowd around them in a wave. Voices shouted and fingers pointed, all in the same direction. Villain wiggled their way out of the crowd in order to see what had caused such fuss.

A billboard. An electronic billboard.

An electronic billboard that no longer housed an advertisement for the latest cellphone or insurance scam. No. Upon the massive thing, multiple stories in height, surely, was broadcasted a video.

“Good evening, and I do apologize for interrupting. But I just had to get my friend’s attention.”

Villain’s breath caught in their throat. They would know that voice even if they had to pick it out of a crowd of thousands.

Most would have expected that two people so similar as Villain and Supervillain would get along, but the reality was just the opposite. Villain couldn’t call themself a good guy, no, but they had ethics. Morals. Real aims to work towards, rather than burning the city down and laughing among the flames.

Supervillain, on the other hand? There was a reason that they were so feared. Their goals were far grander than Villain’s.

To say that they had never been very good friends would be an understatement.

And, now? Now they were enemies. The video projected upon that billboard made that fact certain.

Supervillain themself was not visible in frame-- Perhaps that was lucky for Villain. Seeing that stupid face would have certainly goaded them into destroying the projection outright. Instead, the video displayed a room.

A concrete room, with a chair in the center. A chair that was far from empty.

It was always Hero’s eyes that they could not help but get lost in. Now, that wasn’t a factor. Not when the hero was so tightly blindfolded. Their soothing, calming voice, too, had been eliminated-- the cloth gag in their mouth was already soaked-through with spittle.

Tied to the chair, bound, gagged, and blinded, sat Hero.

“Now, I don’t want a ransom. No, no. I only want to see a dear friend of mine. And it has been oh, so hard to track them down.

So, Villain, dear?”

They shivered at the sound of their name. Their name.

“How about you come to my base, and pick up your little friend, here. Or else, I might just have to do something drastic.”

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For six hours, Villain did not move.

As soon as the broadcast had left the billboard, it had repeated itself upon every news channel that gave half a crap about the metropolis. National news, even international, with subtitles in two dozen languages telling of Supervillain’s threat.

They’d found out. Of course they’d found out.

Villain knew they should have been furious. They should have strangled Supervillain, strangled Hero, strangled themself! After all, this was all their fault. Falling for a hero, how could they have possibly been so stupid?

Now, they stared. Hands balled to fists in their lap as yet another newscaster explained the same events, over and over again.

“Boss?” Sidekick’s voice was soft, nothing like their usual, nosy self. They sat in a chair behind their mentor, who was seated criss-cross on the floor.

There was no answer.

“Boss... What are you going to do?”

“I can’t leave them.”

“Leave who?”

“Leave Hero. You know what Supervillain is like! They’ll destroy them. Destroy the last good hero in the city.”

“You didn’t want to hurt them.”

“And I don’t want to see them hurt, either.”

“I know you don’t. But it’s all Supervillain has over you. You can just... Leave them, right? It’s not like Hero has any real power over you.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I have to.”

“You don’t!”

Villain stood.

“Yes, I do.” They spun around, stalking towards the room that held their costume. “And I need to wipe that damn smile off Supervillain’s face.”

#villain whumpee #hero whumpee #supervillain whumper #whump #whumper #whumpee #whumpblr #hero x villain #hero villain whump #hero villain prompt #whump prompt #whump writing #whump scenario

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Hue and Cry

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; abuse of power, threats, chase.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You notice a sudden change in Lord Barnes.

Note: This is just me being self-indulgent. I start a new job on Monday and yesterday, someone close to me passed. I’m trying to distract myself but I’m too stressed to work on an standing series. This will have at least one other part.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You scattered fresh herbs over the rushes carefully as you backed down the hall. The woven mats would absorb the scent and keep the floors tidy until the next sweep. When you reached the corner, you tied up the sachet and gathered up your bucket and broom. The corridors were already smelling fresher though the task had kept you well past the evening meal.

Your usual chores you assigned to Marjorie. As the years piled on her crooked back, she wasn’t as suited to the more physical tasks. Sweeping would have been too hard on her and you didn’t mind the solitary of the work.

You turned past the kitchens and stopped. Your footsteps seemed to echo behind you. You looked back but saw nothing in the shadows. It was late and most of the castle was asleep already, the torches were snuffed but for a few and you could find you way through the dark easily in the familiar castle.

You went to the rear door of the castle on the lower green, just beside the stables, and dumped the dirt. You heard the horses snoring and nicking as the moon shone down on the wood roofs. You basked for a moment in the silver light and the brisk night air. The harvest season was coming to an end and it would soon be cold.

You dropped the bar as you went back inside and returned your broom and bucket to the cellar. Again you heard a step that did not quite align with your own as you came into the corridor. You spun slowly and glanced around. Some of the younger servants were known to sneak around after hours and there was the odd mouse that skittered over the stone. You saw nothing and went on, more than ready to retire to your straw mattress beside Elsa.

“You sent the old lady,” the voice had your heart in your throat and you stopped short to bow to your liege.

“My lord, I was occupied elsewhere. Harold approved the reassignment,” you said shakily. It was unlike him to traverse the lower floors.

“She spilled wine on my tunic,” Lord Barnes said, “and she can barely see her own crooked nose.”

“My lord, she is old, we did not want her to tax herself--”

“She is a servant. Like you. You have your work and she has hers,” he stepped forward out of the dark shadows though there was no lantern or torch to limn his features, “I bid you to bring my meals and tidy my chambers, no one else. There are far too many covetous servants.”

You were put off by his confrontation. You replaced his former chambermaid several years back but Lord Barnes hardly seemed to warm to the change. He never offered more than an obligatory courtesy and when he was present during your tasks, he rarely spoke at all. Your service had been one of complacency on both sides, so you wondered why he would come to the lower floors to search you out after dark.

“I will be there tomorrow, my lord,” you said, “I apologise for my negligence.”

“And every day thus,” he demanded as he got closer.

“Yes, my lord,” you lowered your chin, “as you wish.”

He stopped only an inch from you and you felt him staring down at you. You didn’t dare look back, that would be an affront to any noble. He let out a long breath and slowly backed away.

“Go, you must be worn out from your hard work,” he retreated, “and there is as much to do on the morrow.”

“My lord,” you bent again and listened to his footsteps fade.

When you dared to look up, he was gone. The man was always particular, even those of his own standing were not guaranteed an audience, even as they visited his estate. He stayed far from court since his injury and on those occasions he did travel to the capital, it was not for more than a fortnight.

You did not take the encounter lightly. He had dismissed labour for less and you did not relish a job outside the castle, there wasn’t much to be had in the village. As dull as the work was, it provided you a place to sleep and comforts not known to many others of your breeding.

🏰

When you went to the lord’s chambers the next morning, he was away. His horse had been saddled for an early ride and you did not expect him until his evening meal. After your tasks, you kept busy until you were due with his supper. When you arrived with the tray, he was not there. You waited but he did not appear. You left the tray covered to keep the food warm and went to attend the last of your nightly duties.

You retired without seeing the lord once. The next day passed in kind, and the next, and the next. You wondered for a moment if it was due to his ire with you but quickly shrugged away the notion. Lord Barnes did not think so much of you and his absence was not so unusual. He was a reticent man even if he was willful.

The first you saw him again was with his supper. He sat at his large carved desk as you entered with the tray and you crossed to the round painted table. He raised a hand and tutted as he didn’t look up from the parchment before him.

“Bring it here,” he ordered.

You went to him and set down the tray on the left flank of his desk. You filled his goblet and he blindly reached over to take it. He gulped and kept his head down as he picked the chicken to pieces and chewed over the inky words.

You retraced your steps to the door, usually he ate alone, as he did most things. You only returned to clear his scraps.

“Do you not see the mess?” he asked without looking up. You turned and followed his sharp point to the shelves along the wall. “It is difficult to focus in the chaos.”

“My lord,” you nodded and went to the oaken shelves. You rearranged the crooked spines and tidied the stack of loose leaves. You took the cloth from your apron and wiped down the line of inkwells. You could hear him chewing quietly behind you as he shifted in his chair.

“And you will ready my bed for the night,” he demanded as you finished up, “pull back the covers, it’s been a tiresome day.”

He lifted the parchment and leaned back as he wiped his fingers on his breeches. You acquiesced with a “yes, my lord,” and went to his bedchamber.

You folded down the heavy blankets and linen and fluffed the pillows. You took the brick from the foot of the bed and set it in the hearth. The fall slipped in through the windows and the chill of the castle was no longer so welcomed.

“I won’t need that,” Barnes said as he entered. He was so quiet, you jumped and stood straight. You spun and bowed your head.

“Will that be all, my lord?” you asked as he unbuttoned his overcoat with one hand.

“My footman has been stricken with an ague after we were caught in the rain,” he said evenly, “you can aid with my wardrobe.”

“My lord?”

“Here,” he pointed in front of him and pulled his jacket free of his left arm, “you will take these,” he handed you the garment as you neared, “to the laundries.”

You kept your eyes on the plain grey fabric as he shoved his boots aside and added his socks to your armful, then lifted his tunic as you peered at the floor. He pulled of the leather glove that hid his iron hand, the metal forged to the mirror of his real extremity. You resisted the yen to look higher up the artificial appendage.

You were unprepared to act as his footman and as he stripped away his layers it made you squirm. He rolled down his breeches and slung them over the rest of his clothes.

He stood in only in his undershorts and bent your head lower, “my lord.” You backed away and he caught your elbow. He stopped you and you hugged the pile of clothes with your other arm.

“Didn’t you miss me?” he asked.

The question struck you. You were unsure how to answer. You were used to the silent, brooding lord, not this pensive, prodding master.

“My lord?” you frowned.

“You didn’t?” he urged, “do you not enjoy your duties?”

“I am only… uncertain of what you mean, my lord. I apologise for my displeasing response but I do not know how to answer.”

You looked at his hand still on your elbow. He squeezed and slowly his palm glided up your sleeve. You shivered as he pushed his hand against your neck and his thumb tickled under your chin.

“I must confess I missed you,” he said, “I did stay away because I was upset at your absence and thought to punish you in kind but it seems, it hasn’t had the same effect.”

“What do-- my lord?” you kept your eyes down as his hand moved higher and he brushed along your lower lip.

“I know I shouldn’t let these… feelings persist but there are many lords who indulge without emotion. I assure you, I do not touch you in a meaningless manner.”

“My lord,” you took a step back and he stopped you again. This time his hand gripped your jaw. He pulled you flush to him.

“Look at me,” he hissed. Your lip trembled and you raised your eyes reluctantly, “you continue to deflect me; your lord.”

You stared at him, searched his deep blue eyes desperately, and shivered, “I only seek to fulfill my duties as your chambermaid.”

“And I offer you more. Offer you… privilege over duty,” he rasped, “I would not mistreat you.”

Your heart raced and you wiggled in his grasp. You peeked down at your armful, “I should get these to the laundries, as you bid, my lord.”

He was silent, just for a moment, then he let go of you and tore his clothes from your arm. “You would deny me?”

You stumbled back and watched him fearfully, “my lord, I only-- I am only a maid--”

“I have a dozen maids,” he growled, “I would have you as more. I would take care of you.”

He bore down on you again and you backed up until you were at the hearth, the mantle jutting out against your head. You turned your head as he loomed over you and his hot breath washed over you. His hand was again at your throat as his lips trailed along your cheek.

“A lord does not ask,” he sneered, “a servant obeys.”

“My lord--”

“Shhh,” he hushed as he turned your head and pressed his lips to yours. He parted, his nose rubbing against yours as his hand stretched over your neck, “I can be kind or I can be cruel. Thus far, I’ve spent most of my patience on you.”

You quivered as he kissed you again. You were too afraid to resist as his hand descended to your bodice and he squeezed. You gasped into his mouth and he smiled against you. He grasped your waist and pressed himself to you.

Your blood went cold as the panic rose up your spine. As he tugged at your skirts, you were blinded by fear. You reached up along the mantle as he dipped his head to kiss your neck. You couldn’t think through your shock, your body seemed to move off instinct.

You grasped the beaten metal vase and swung it down on Lord Barnes’ head. He grunted and stumbled back as he touched his head and tried to shake away the pain of the impact. You tossed the vase and it bounced over the stone as you scurried for the door. You tripped as you reached the receiving chamber and heard him behind you, his steps slowly gaining strength.

“You little bitch,” his tone turned to fire.

You struggled to get the heavy door open and raced into the hall. You lifted your skirts as you barreled ahead of him on the stone. Your thin soles slapped the mats and you hurdled down the stairs as you heard his pants coupled with your own. Down and down and down and down.

You led him through the mazed corridors and flitted out through the lower doors behind the stables. You fell into the dirt and quickly climbed back to your feet. You tore off across the yard as he swore into the air and his steps came to a halt.

“I will find you!” he shouted as you head for the wall, your only hope was the tree winding up the east corner, “You won’t get far!” You reached the trunk of the towering oak and your hands scraped against the bark as you hopped and latched onto the lowest branch. You heard him calling to others, “saddle my horse! Rise and ready my horse, boy!”

You reached the top of the wall, weak and worn and hooked your leg over the stone. You carefully scaled the uneven brickwork and the tangled vines. As your feet met the dirt, you turned and fled towards the tree line, darkened with the myths of vengeful wraiths and wicked witches, driven by the threat of a worse monster behind you, the voices and hooves an omen of his intent.

#Bucky Barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #medieval #medieval au #medieval!au #fic #miniseries #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #au #winter soldier

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angryschnauzer · 3 years

Text

Distraction

Summary: As a junior CIA agent you are added to a mission to help with scientific analysis, but when half the team are hospitalised you have to suddenly become a hands on field agent, alongside August Walker and Will Shaw. When the final part of the mission at a tropical plant glass house has an unexpected side affect, you have to work as a team to survive the night.

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader x Will Shaw Fandoms: Mission Impossible: Fallout (Movie), The Cold Light of Day (Movie), Henry Cavill - Actor.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Sex Pollen, Threesome, Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Sex, Blowjob, Cum Play, Double Penetration, Anal Sex.

A/N: This is my first time writing the Sex Pollen trope, so i hope you like it. Fic is unbeta’d; only the finest free range organic typos for me. I do not run a tag list, but if you follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, you will then get an alert when i post something new.

Back catalogue can be found on AO3 Link Here, or you can follow my facebook page HERE.

Distraction

If there had been someone narrating a movie of this mission, the first line would have been ‘it was a simple mission’. However, they would have been lying. The mission was far from simple, it was convoluted, complicated, and the team fucking hated each other.

The team were scheduled to arrive via two flights, from opposite directions of the globe as not to arouse suspicions that a large team would do if anyone was picked up on facial recognition. You had been brought on board because of your scientific and tech background, and as the team were tasked with retrieving the formula for the most dangerous biological weapon in the world, you were the one that would check they had the right thumb drive before the mission was able to be called a success. There would be multiple extraction points, numerous undercover assignments that would all lead to the final extraction at the gala dinner.

That was the plan. What actually happened was the half of the team coming in from Dallas ended up with severe food poisoning and were currently being hospitalised in a local treatment facility. That left just your half of the team, and the senior agent now in charge was none too happy about it;

“I’ve got a fucking chemistry nerd and a number cruncher for a hands on mission that requires multiple scenes where infiltration and distraction are needed, and neither of you have any fucking field work!”

August Walker hated everyone and made sure he did everything he could so that everyone hated him in return. The other member of the team quietly ground his teeth, Walker never once let him forget that he came into this agency completely by accident following a rogue faction and a situation that started with the death of his CIA Agent father, and resulted in smashing up half of Madrid’s traffic in a 24 hour long series of car chases;

“I was a stockbroker, and i didn’t hear anyone complaining when i discovered the currency discrepancies that found us the targets insider trading”

Will Shaw was so similar yet so different to Walker it was startling, you even thought they looked similar enough to be long lost brothers, but never dared to mention it.

The hotel suite had all the facilities you needed to set up a small command post, with enough counter space to set up the laptops and work-stations, whilst not getting under each other's feet. However it was still small enough for the two men to continually bicker and make snide remarks at each other, and you had to push the earpiece of your surveillance equipment closer to your ear to hear, finally you heard what you needed to, holding your hand up and clicking your fingers at the two men who immediately silenced and crossed the room;

“They’re going to be at the MMA Gym in thirty minutes”

“Okay” Walker huffed; “We need to extract the codes from his device that will give us access for the holding location. You and Shaw take the gym and cause the distraction, i’ll get the codes”

Will shook his head;

“Not gonna work”

“It's not?” you were surprised

“The gym is men only, the only women are administration and janitorial”

“That’s fucking antiquated” August spat out in disgust.

You had to hide the smirk that tugged at the corner of your mouth, that August Walker of all people would be an advocate for equal rights, but nonetheless started to prepare for the first distraction.

Walker and Shaw had entered the building separately but within 5 minutes of each other, signing in under false names and keeping it simple and silent as they started training on the weights and cardio machines in the gym. You had already entered through the basement deliveries door which you’d been able to pick the lock of, finding a staff uniform t-shirt in the storeroom and pulling it on over your top. You could hear both men through their hidden comms, and within a couple of minutes pretending to sort out a cleaning kart that you knew the morning crew had finished with, you heard the code word that the target had entered the weights room.

Seconds later you were tentatively pushing the door to the locker room open, calling out;

“Housekeeping!”

You had no idea if they called themselves housekeeping or janitorial staff or whatever, but when you didn’t get a reply you quickly entered the room and did what needed to be done.

Through your ear piece you could hear the first stage of the distraction starting, with your two fellow agents starting to challenge the other to out lift each other, and from the muffled background noise you could tell that they were drawing a crowd of onlookers.

Tapping your comms you alerted Walker and Shaw that you’d been successful, and that it was time for them to leave. But as you got no response you quickly made your way out of the locker room through the other exit, only to find yourself in a glass walled corridor, the gym on the other side of the glass. What surprised you however was that there was now a huge crowd of spectators as they watched your two agents try to pull out more reps on the bicep curl machine. Scowling you grabbed a cloth and bottle of spray cleaner and squirted the glass, glaring at the two of them before they finally saw you;

“Its time to go, dumbasses. Finish the contest. I’ll be in the car in the street behind the building”

Pushing through the door of the hotel suite you scrunched your nose as Will pushed past you, August not far behind;

“You two need a shower… did you really need to get that sweaty?”

“Well… you wanted the distraction to look convincing, didn’t you?” Will shot back, stripping his t-shirt off, already halfway to the bathroom.

A quiet cough behind you drew your attention away from Will’s sculpted back muscles;

“When you’re done staring at Shaw…”

“I...I wasn’t stare…”

“Whatever sweetheart, either way; you two need to change”

Looking down at your outfit you pulled at the gym t-shirt;

“Yeah, i can just find a utility shirt or something…”

“No, you’re front of house with me. Will’s taking the extraction of the thumb drive”

“But...I didn’t bring an outfit…”

August nodded to a pile of bags in the corner of the room from the agents that hadn’t made it to the mission but their luggage had;

“So check Marianne’s, she is about the same size as you. Either way its you and me sweetheart, now get dolled up, you can’t go to a gala looking like that”

Twenty minutes later you took a deep breath; you’d found Marianne’s bag and had found that although she was a similar size to you, it was one size smaller. She also had a completely different taste and style to makeup and you were now way out of your comfort zone. The red lipstick however seemed to work, a touch of gold bronzing powder across your shoulders and chest made the red silk dress really work for you. Adjusting the straps so they sat over the top of your bra, the pretty floral pattern hopefully not too noticeably jarring against the sultry silk. Taking a deep breath you stepped out of the small dressing room and came face to face with Will;

“Oh hey” he looked you up and down before clearing his throat; “Looks good”

“Yeah?” you smoothed the dress down over your stomach

“I mean… the bra kinda takes away from the look… but yeah, it looks really good”

“I...I didn’t have anything suitable for a gala, this is Marianne’s… from her bag…”

Will stood in front of you, reaching his hand around your back and with a quick snap of his fingers he’d unfastened your bra;

“It really will look better without the bra… trust me…”

Without another word he turned and crossed the room, pulling his tie from his bag, fastening it as August emerged from the other room;

“Agent. Bra off, now”

Shimmying the offending garment down your arms you pulled it out of your dress as he crossed the room;

“I don’t see why…”

“Because the people at this gala have got so much money they flaunt what they’ve got. You’ve got to fit in” He held his finger out and you hooked it over the protruding digit.

“We’d better get going… the gala is about to start”

With a nod August grabbed the keys to the BMW you’d been assigned and tossed them to Will; he was taking on the role of Driver and Bodyguard to your’s and August’s ‘couple’, the three of you filed out of the room and into the elevator.

The ride down the highrise hotel was slow, and you could feel both men’s eyes on you as they stood behind you, before the doors finally opened to the basement parking. You struggled to keep up with them as they strode out with their long legs, the heels of your stiletto sandals clicking on the cement. Finally as you reached the car you were surprised as August opened the door for you, not uttering a word as he watched you climb in before he rounded the car and slid into the back seat beside you.

You’d barely had time to fasten your seatbelt before Will was peeling out of the hotel parking with a squeal of tyres and you were heading to your destination.

“Panties, off” August’s words surprised you

“W-WHAT?!”

“Panties. Take them off”

“Agent Walker…”

“They dig into the meat of your hips and take the attention away from the sexiness of the dress. You need to fit in tonight”

“B-b-but…” you attempted to stall, but without another word August pulled your knees towards him and slid his hands beneath your dress. He grasped the thin elastic straps that ran over your hips and pulled hard, snapping the fragile pieces of fabric and pulling the now ruined undergarments. Glancing at Will he had a brief smirk on his face but quickly looked away, concentrating on the road ahead.

The gala was amazing, and it was hard not to get absorbed into the evening as if you were a real guest. You could hear everything through the hidden comms units in your ears, and apart from the occasional grunt as Will silently passed the guards as he made his way further into the underground chambers that ran below the massive glasshouse the gala was in, it seemed to all be going exactly to plan. The host had announced for everyone to celebrate, and you had found yourselves being swept onto the dancefloor, and suddenly you were in August’s arms as he held you close, the music thankfully loud enough to drown out your conversation from the ears of others;

“Do you think he’s getting on ok?”

“He’d say if he wasn’t” August assured you as he moved in time to the music, his hand on your lower back pulling you closer to his body. At that very moment you both heard a guttural cry through the comms, your eyes wide in panic as he grabbed your hand and you quickly made your way through the crowd;

“Shaw, come in… are you ok?”

You heard gurgling on the comms and watched as August pulled out his phone and activated the trackers that you all wore, the two of you coming up together on screen, but the third - Will’s - showing as on the level below and not moving.

The stairs had been hell in your heels, eventually you’d kicked them off and had run barefoot behind August, chasing him around corners and along corridors, before he’d finally come to a halt in front of a sealed door, his phone showing that Will was in the room behind it.

“Stand back”

You took a couple of steps back and watched as August kicked the door, the deafening bang as it broke from its hinges and splintered in was immediately forgotten as a sudden rush of air came out of the room, covering him in a dusting of strange grey-pinkish powder. He fell to the floor coughing and you rushed to his side;

“Check on Shaw! I’m fine!”

Quickly entering the room you looked around, finally seeing Will laying on the floor, he too was covered in the powder. Kneeling at his side you checked his pulse, relieved to find one as he opened his eyes and groaned.

“What happened? Are you ok?”

“Stop fussing, i’m fine… we gotta get out of here. Security will be on their way…”

At that moment August appeared at your side;

“Did you get it?”

“Yeah, i got it”

Will held out the thumb drive and pushed it into your hand as August pulled him to his feet, and they attempted to dust themselves off as the three of you staggered down the hallway and out of the fire exit.

Pushing into the hotel room, both Will and August had already shed the majority of their clothing, now dressed in just their smart dress pants and under shirts, still coughing from the dust cloud that lingered in their airways. You’d run the briefest of tests with the tiny blood monitor that you’d kept in the car to ensure it wasn’t a known nerve agent or poison before you’d even left the extraction point, thankfully the results being negative, but both men needed to wash off whatever it was as soon as possible. But first, you needed a proper sample;

“Agent Shaw, i need to take some blood, hair and saliva, run it through the test software, to see if whatever it was has synthesised into your bloodstream” you nodded to the small scientific station you’d set up at the end of the table, the case having contained tiny gadgets that amounted to a microscope, a mass spectrometer, and other testing equipment… the whole point of why you in particular had been placed on this mission.

A minute later you’d collected the samples, trying hard not to get flustered as Will had stood in front of you bare chested and in just his underwear, heat radiating from his body;

“So what do you think it is?”

“I have no idea”

“Well i’m burning up, i need to take a shower”

Quickly loading the samples into the rapid mass spectrometer you turned to Agent Walker to check his vitals and let out a tiny squeak of surprise when you saw him sitting on the edge of the bed in just his underwear. His chest was flushed and he had a sheen of sweat over his entire body;

“I guess i’m next?”

Pressing your hand to his forehead you could feel he was burning up;

“I’m going to check your temperature first”

Quickly using the thermal reader you could see that his core temp was heading towards fever;

“I’m going to take the samples then as soon as Will is out of the shower you need to get in there”

“Yes Ma’am” he chuckled, closing his eyes as you pushed your fingers through his hair to pluck a sample strand. The powder had caught in the strands and it was only as you combed your fingers through the dark locks did you realise he had soft curls. As you tried to separate them he let out a groan as you stroked his scalp. He swayed a little even though he was sitting down, and before you could do anything his hands were on your hips to steady himself, the heat almost searing through the silk of your dress.

Finally having got all the samples you needed you reluctantly pulled away, not saying a word as he simply flopped back onto the bed with a smirk on his face. You busied yourself preparing the test samples from Agent Walker, the machine finishing with Shaw’s. You were vaguely aware of the shower being turned off and the men moving around the room, before the shower was on again and you presumed it was August in there.

Peering at the saliva samples through the microscope you frowned, the particles present completely organic and very familiar.

“So what is the diagnosis Doc?”

Will’s voice surprised you, and as you jumped and turned your eyes went wide when you saw he was in just a towel, tied low on his waist as he drank from a bottle of water.

“Y-You don’t want to put some clothes on?”

He looked down at himself, almost surprised to find he was only wearing a towel and shrugged;

“No point, the way i’m burning up i’ll be naked soon” he nodded to the screen; “So?”

Turning your attention back to the screen you swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry;

“Well… it seems organic, spores of some kind. Its hard to tell what they are from, but their chemical make-up is unique. The only time i’ve seen anything similar is in isolated microclimates that are cut off from the rest of nature… there was this one… in a volcano… a pollen from a plant that grew in tropical climates…” you trailed off as you sensed another presence now flanking your other side, glancing away from the microscope, taking in the sight of August in an identical outfit to Will, his broad expanse of chest at eye level as he bent down to look into the microscope.

“Hmmn… so, how’s it gonna affect us? The gala was in a fucking giant greenhouse; you saw the plants they were growing there, some of them were 20ft tall and looked like they’d come from another planet. Do we need to pop an antihistamine or something, what’s it gonna do?”

Standing you quickly slid out from between the two barely dressed men, checking the mass spectrometer and frowning;

“It seems to be elevating your testosterone levels…” you peered at the saliva results; “...and pheromones… your bodies are heating up where your body is fighting against the pollen, its affecting all your hormones...”

“Pheromones…” Will mused; “... that’s the sex hormones, right?”

“Urrr…” you faltered, looking up at the two men who were now looking at you like hungry wolves.

August stepped closer;

“Sweetheart, i think you’d better get yourself tested too…” he paused, his finger hooking beneath the thin strap of your dress, making you acutely aware you were completely naked beneath it; “... cos’ i could smell you from across the room… and you smell so sweet right now…”

You went to take a step back, only to bump into the hard expanse of Will’s naked chest, his hand curling around your arm;

“C’mon, lets get you tested…”

You were suddenly putty in their hands, your head swimming and it was only then that you realised you were burning up. It felt like you had a core of lava within you, and the only thing you could liken it to was a hot flash, your body flushed with heat. You recalled the time you’d overheard a much older agent talking to her friends, unaware you had been in the room and she’d spilled the beans on how she would recover from an episode and calm her hormones down... with the help of her husband.

As your head had been swirling, Will had taken your blood sample and had loaded it into the mass spectrometer, having watched as you’d shown him before the mission. But you could barely concentrate;

“I...I know how to counteract the affects of the pollen…” you panted out, unsteady on your feet as you swayed and August caught you in his arms

“Oh yes?”

“En… Endorphins… they counteract… they burn off the pheromones…”

You felt hot breath on the back of your neck as Will pressed against you;

“I’m not a scientist, but i know how to create endorphins…”

His lips made contact with your neck and you turned to jelly, your head resting against his shoulder and your eyelids drooping, barely open, yet you had enough of your senses to be aware of August in front of you, pulling the straps of your dress down your arms, you pliable in his hands as he stripped you of your only remaining garment, pressing his lips to your over heated skin as went as the silk pooled at your feet;

“So beautiful…”

“Absolutely” Will agreed from behind, his lips grazing over your jawline as his arms reached around you and cupped your tender breasts; “We need to work as a team to get through this… what are the hazards of hot flashes then Doc?”

“Y-Y-You can over heat your brain… your heart could give out…”

“Uh-huh… and endorphins will help stop this?” August enquired, his breath hot on your naked chest

“Y-yeah…”

That was the last word spoken for a very long time. From that point on the only sounds in the room were hums of pleasure combined with the carnal soundtrack of three bodies moving towards the inevitable. By the time you got to the bed both men had lost their towels, hard naked bodies pressed against your soft curves, sculpted hard muscle available everywhere you touched, and oh did you touch… and caress and stroke, the second you’d reciprocated their affections they had softened to your touch, sighs of pleasure as your fingertips gave them just the slightest relief.

You found yourself sandwiched between the two men on the soft covers of the king-size bed, each taking turns to capture your lips for searing kisses, each having their own unique talent and style with their tongues. When you were deep in August’s embrace you felt Will move down the bed, his hands pulling your legs apart before he pressed kisses up your inner thighs and his mouth made contact with your soaked folds. The cry of pleasure that erupted from your mouth broke the kiss, yet August didn’t seem to mind as your hand had found its way to being wrapped around his weeping shaft, tugging him sloppily as you struggled to concentrate;

“That’s it Sweetheart, you don’t need to be gentle… i like it rough…”

You tried to answer, but Will’s tongue had found your soaked entrance as his hand curled around your thigh and sought out your clit, the pleasure he was giving you was too intense to allow you to form coherent words. August claimed your lips again for another searing kiss, humming his appreciation as you worked your hand over his heated flesh.

Before you knew it you were coming hard, your orgasm tearing through your body as you ground your core against Will’s face, his eyes sparkling from between your thighs, and as you were floating on the high of the afterglow you could feel the two men moving you, adjusting you to suit their needs.

On all fours on the bed you were faced with August’s dick, opening your mouth instinctively to take him deep, the heavy weight on your tongue a welcome feeling. Saliva spilled from the corners of your mouth as you struggled to stretch around his girth. At the same time you felt Will’s powerful thighs pressing against the back of your own, the velvet touch of his bulbous crown pressing to your still trembling hole before with a grunt he thrust into your soft body.

There were only grunts and gasps of pleasure, the two men rocking your body between them as they defiled you in the basest of ways, but that you were eager to participate in, the mixing of pheromones in the room removing your inhibitions, knowing that it was an act of survival. You could feel your body climbing again, your orgasm imminent. You felt the first salty tang of August’s seed on your tongue, the tensing of his muscles as his body prepared to release into the welcome warmth of your mouth. His massive hand cupped your chin and pulled your head up to look him in the eye as he finally reached his peak, grunting curses as he pumped thick ropes over your tongue, raining praise upon you as you swallowed everything he gave you.

August fell back onto the pillows, but before you could let gravity take hold of you too Will wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you upright until you were pressed against his chest, his hips thrusting as he filled you so deliciously from behind. Through lust soaked gaze you watched August watching the pair of you as you fucked in front of him, his eyes travelling down your heated body until he was watching where your bodies were joined, how Will’s thick cock stretched you out so well.

“Get your finger on her clit Shaw, i wanna watch you make her come undone”

Doing as the senior agent instructed, Will snaked a hand down your stomach, rubbing tight firm circles against your sensitive bud as he continued to fill you, until you were shaking, hanging onto the precipice of pleasure and that final flick of his finger was enough to set off another orgasm.

The vice-like grip of your velvet walls was the final trigger for Will, and with a sin filled groan he pushed in one last time and you could feel him spilling deep inside you.

Finally he pulled out, carefully setting you down onto the soft bedcovers. Your eyelids felt heavy, but the burning deep in your body seemed to be sated. You felt the men moving around the bed, a large hand cupping the back of your neck before lifting you from the bed a little;

“Drink…”

Opening your eyes, you watched as August lifted a water bottle to your lips, making sure you gulped down the chilled water before pulling away;

“How… how are you guys feeling?”

He turned and sat on the bed beside you, his finger trailing down your neck and between your breasts, and only then could you see the sheen as his skin glistened with sweat, a droplet running down his abdomen to where his cock stood hard and proud from a thatch of dark curls;

“Not… not quite done yet…”

Gently pushing you back down onto the bed he tossed the empty bottle aside before crawling atop of you, capturing your mouth with his as you felt the nudge of his hardened dick breach your body, his wide expanse of chest pressing you to the bed. He didn’t start out gentle and it only got rougher, ploughing into your body as he sought to relieve the effects of the pollen coursing through his veins like fire, burning within him until all that was left was red hot embers of passion. Your body writhed beneath him, begging for more, eagerly taking whatever he could give.

He hit spots you didn’t know existed, your back arching with pleasure as he filled you, your hardened nipples almost too sensitive from his chest hair roughly rubbing against them, the stimulation almost too much until the levy broke and you came hard, your fingers digging into his back to leave dark welts, the pain his trigger for the final thrust as he pumped you full of his seed.

Finally he rolled off you, laying at your side as your chests heaved, struggling to catch your breath when you felt another hand grasp at your wrist;

“Babe… please… i need you…”

Looking to Will you saw a pained look on his face as he sat partially propped up against the pillows, his chest soaked and his dick standing hard and proud;

“Please…” he begged.

Somehow you found the energy to move, your body still shaking but yet you straddled his lap, pushing his sweat soaked curls from his face;

“It’s going to be ok Will, i’ll take care of you… its ok…”

You sank down onto his waiting body, taking him where August had been only a minute before, the comingled seed lubricating you as this new angle found yet more pleasure points that had remained undiscovered until then. Wills hands moved to your hips, his grip tight as he gritted his teeth and moved you on his lap, rocking you to ride him like a rodeo stallion. Sweat dripped down your body, rivulets running between your breasts as you threw your head back and basked in the flood of pleasure chemicals soaking your brain. The haze of lust clouding time and space as you came to another orgasm, Will filling you with another load of his thick cum, your cries of pleasure finally ebbing away as you collapsed on his heaving chest, his hands stroking your back whilst your bodies stayed joined.

A pair of strong arms lifted you off of Will and set you down on the mattress, August’s dark smile haunting over you as he parted your legs and kissed down your thigh, before with a smirk he bit the soft flesh. It wasn’t enough to break the skin but the pleasure pain receptors in your mind were immediately set off again, and you knew that even if you couldn’t see the mark you’d feel it for days to come. He lifted your legs and parted them, his face at your centre, yet where his tongue ended up you let out a squeak of surprise as he circled your back entrance.

“Oh, OH… August…”

“Mmmnnfff” was all that could be heard as he pushed his tongue at your asshole, his thumb pressing against your clit as he worked you open, your body deceiving you as a fierce orgasm washed over you almost immediately. When he pulled away he had a smug look on his face;

“Thought as much… hold tight…”

He quickly disappeared to the bathroom, before returning with a small bottle in his hand. Pouring some of the liquid contained within on his fingers, he worked the oil over your skin before pushing his thick finger into your ass, eagerly praising you as he worked your body until you were ready.

“Walker… hurry up and fuck her… i’m burning up here, i need another round…” Will gasped out as August moved you.

“C’mere then Shaw, we’re never gonna get this out of our systems if we have to wait to take turns…”

Even through the haze of the pollen Will immediately got what August was saying, the pair of them pulling you from the bed before Will took you into his arms;

“Jump…”

With a surprising amount of strength Will pulled you up, your legs hooked over his forearms as he angled his hips to push his dick back into your cum soaked cunt, letting gravity help as he sank deep. Just as you thought you were about to overbalance a hard chest pressed against your back, August stooping behind you as he took his iron hard dick in hand and sought out purchase on your ass;

“Gonna take this as slow as i can Sweetheart…”

Slow didn’t seem slow enough, and you cursed Newton and the laws of physics as the same forces that had pulled you down onto Will did the same with August, leaving you gasping for air as you were filled in both holes. The boys held you up, in place and still whilst they resisted ravaging your body, fighting against the pollen until they could no longer hold back and they unleashed their raw power upon your body. Fucking you in tandem with the thinnest of walls separating themselves inside you, they defiled your body as you begged for more; harder, deeper, faster. It was never enough.

The night ebbed away into the mists of time, each sex act more depraved than the last, the three of you driving the deadly force of the pollen from your bodies in an endless battle of lust.

The last thing you recalled was the sun rising as the two men stood before your kneeling body, spraying your face and breasts with a final load before sleep finally claimed your sated body.

Bright light streamed in the window and you winced as your head pounded. A deep voice could be heard but you weren’t listening. A warm body beside you shifted and a large warm hand pressed to your aching abdomen, soothing the overworked muscles. A soft pair of lips pressed a kiss to your shoulder, and the lack of moustache told you it was Will that was spooning you.

“C’mon Agents, rise and shine” August barked from the bathroom doorway, packing his things; “Got a flight to catch in two hours, debriefing in twelve”

Closing the file you nodded at your superiors, their approval of a good job done ringing praises in your ears as the debriefing ended, people pushing their chairs out and making small talk as they were dismissed for the weekend and a well deserved rest.

Walking to the elevator you didn’t make eye contact, trying hard not to wince as your thighs rubbed together and you felt the bite that August had given you, wanting to avoid any probing questions. You’d skimmed over a lot in your report, mainly the sex-pollen induced orgy that had taken place, but as the thumb drive with the vital data on had been recovered no-one was concentrating on the part between the retrieval and the debriefing.

The elevator dinged as the doors opened, and absentmindedly you stepped in, looking out of the glass windows as you were only partially aware of just a few other passengers. It was only when you realised you were flanked on both sides did you look up and see that August and Will were either side of you.

With a smirk August handed you a file;

“This wasn’t needed for the debriefing”

You flicked it open and saw that it was the mobile test data from the hotel room;

“Yes, probably for the best” you agreed, your throat dry.

As you held the pages Will pointed to a trio of lines towards the bottom. For a moment you stared at the numbers before you recognised what they meant;

“That’s our results…”

You felt August’s breath hot on your ear as he whispered;

“Look at yours…”

You saw the readings of Will and August’s blood count, of the pheromone saturation… then you saw yours;

“But… but that can’t be right…”

“You know that equipment better than anyone else… when has it ever been wrong?”

The elevator reached the Lobby and everyone filed out, August and Will stopping and nodding to the bar across the street;

“We’ll be catching a drink or two… you’re welcome to join us once you’ve taken in the test data…”

You nodded, speechless, staring at the data in black and white. It couldn’t be wrong; it was never wrong. It was clear as day.

You hadn’t been infected by the pollen.

#august walker x reader #will shaw x reader #august walker fanfic #will shaw fanfic #henry cavill

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lemonjoonah · 4 years

Text

Blood Bounty - Part 3 (M) - Finale

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader, Taehyung x Reader, ft. Seokjin x Namjoon Word Count: 15.5K Rating: M Genre: Historical fantasy AU, Vampire AU, Thriller, Drama, Smut Warnings (CONTAINS SPOILERS): Dub-con (consent is freely given but the context is dubious), non-con vampire feeding, non-con kiss, unprotected sex, light bondage, oral sex (f. rec.), cum eating, pain during intercourse (don’t be like the OC here in the beginning and try to conceal it, you should tell your partner if something hurts), somewhat antiquated thoughts on virginity, virgin reader (it’s a flashback and there’s a small amount of blood...), death of major and minor characters, drugging (with vampire blood), murder, violence, blood, gore, sexism, blood slavery, kidnapping, captivity, forced marriage, manipulation, gaslighting, once again it’s some pretty dark shit, consider yourself warned.

| Series Masterlist |

Summary: He’s taken everything from you, your blood, your memories, your life, and after months spent as Taehyung’s own personal feast, you eagerly take your chance to flee. Unfortunately your escape doesn’t go as well as you had hoped, as you are soon caught by another blood thirsty beast. The vampire Yoongi claims to know you, and that he wishes to return you home. But when you can only remember the pain caused by his kind, you find it difficult to trust him, since he too could just be another monster waiting to feed.

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who stuck with me through this mini-series. I truly hope you enjoy the end of this tale (and the hints to another separate series in the works 😉).

...

Your new stead is surprisingly responsive to your commands, possibly desiring to get as far away from the predators as you. Taking you down the road to the kingdom at a startling pace, causing several branches to whip painfully in your direction. When a stinging blow inevitably lands on your brow, enough to draw a spot of blood, you pull back on the speed of your mount. You are not so far now that you worry about making it back before nightfall.

The route home becomes more populated the closer you get. For the first time in years you are among people like you again. Those who see you as just another person passing by, not a temping entree, nor a traveller to rob. Some even nod to you as they cross your path, you respond in kind, but keep your face hidden beneath the hood of your cloak.

Your first few paces inside the town comes as quite a shock. The notable gathering spots are even more vacant than they were during your nighttime strolls. With the stalls of the market bare, and so many businesses closed, the only well occupied space appears to be the mounted boards on the end of every other street. You stop at one littered with official orders for curfews, new regulations, and missing souls. The most notable of all to you is the obituary detailing your brothers passing.

You swallow back your grief, and proceed to examine the document claiming that he had died of a devastating injury and no more. It seems your parents will still not admit to any weakness that might carry in the family's blood. But with each stamped flyer, there’s been an addition made, one that was obviously not approved by the crown.

‘The crown prince is dead, and our princess lost. If we let them rule any longer we will be next!’

You are stunned by the note, fearing how bad the circumstances must have become in your absence. Backing away from the board you prod your stead onward and in the direction of the public stables. Hoping to find the mount it’s own new home, while you return to yours.

“Three pence for a night,” The master grunts, looking up from his work as you dismount near the entrance to the paddock.

“I have no coin, but-”

“No coin, no stall. Don’t waste my time and move along.” He interrupts before returning to shovelling the pungent manure.

You wrinkle your nose at the odour and persist in your efforts. “I was going to offer for you to take ownership of him instead. I have no use for him now.”

“Keep him? Tell me, how did you come to own this stead? Is it truly yours? ” He leers down, placing you beneath his scrutinous glare. “People don’t just give up a worthy horse. How can I know that there is not someone out there who will come looking for it and will blame me for their loss?”

“I can assure you the last owner will not come to retrieve him. Now do you want the horse or should I go find another who is willing to take my offer? Maybe that nice family there.” You point to a couple making their way into a nearby building.

Your bluff calls his, leading the man to grimace and huff, “Fine. I will take it, now be gone with you.”

With the horse now tended to, you start to walk away, passing the entrance to the tavern, the door the mentioned pair just walked into. It’s hard not to take note of its current occupancy, for it is packed with people, all shouting and trying to have their say. With the entryway cracked open an inch you are able to catch several snippets of the debate.

“We can’t wait any longer. They are changing the narrative as we speak! Now stating they hold out hope for the princess’s return.”

“And what if she does?” A familiar man stands in argument. “Would you have us send the kingdom into turmoil when hope still exists? I would not be as I stand before you today without the surgeon she sent to us. A blacksmith cannot work without a hand. My wife and I would have been out on the street before long.”

“Can you not see what they are doing for what it is?” The first speaks again to counter his point. “It’s a convenient ploy! With an heir lost, only the promise of another, with more favour than them will quell our anger. If she was still alive they would have found her by now.” He pauses to pat the smith on the shoulder. “I mourn her loss too my good friend, but we can’t wait for a small sliver of hope when we continue to live the way we do. Taxed within an inch of our livelihoods, while the list of missing continues to grow and those who are in charge hide behind their walls, keeping secrets that affect us all. If she returns we can offer her a good standing among us. But their rule must end.”

You edge closer and closer to the door trying to get a better view of the meeting in progress, when a throat clears and grunts, “Run along lad...” Nearly jumping from the fright you turn around to find the stable master having come up from behind. Bowing your head you comply, thankful that he had not realized the gravity of what you overheard.

What had truly happened in the time you were gone? This isn’t just contempt but a full blown revolution building. Your people think you dead, and understandably so, but if they see that you are alive and well, maybe a better path can be found than one that will surely end in blood.

When considering your options you know there will be no way in through the front gates, your parents have always kept them heavily guarded, and no one will believe you are the child of the king and queen dressed as you are now. Rather than stir up trouble, you proceed to your fastest route in, the trap door hidden on the perimeter.

In your absence it appears to have remained unused. The roots of the hedge have grown over, needing to be tugged out of place until the hinges and wood are freed from their grasp. You drop down into the passage, closing the hatch behind. With no light, nor lantern you are left to navigate the abandoned hall in the dark. The palm of your hand brushes against the damp stone wall, crossing cobwebs and critters on it’s trek to lead you to the portrait door. You try your best not to think of the time spent in this place, and the company you are now left without, but the sound of your steps resonates around you. Tricking your ear into thinking it a whisper of the past, as if his promises still remain locked away down here, echoing off the bedrock for you to claim.

You are grateful when you finally reach the castle's interior, although for the time of day even the palace appears deserted and cold, you slip about the halls feeling like a stranger in your own home. Hoping to return to your old bedroom before you find anyone else, so you can at least reclaim another part of what you once were. But when you find the door and step inside someone is already there, crying at the foot of your bed. It’s too late to back away for they look up, just as startled as you. It’s your former lady’s maid who steps back from shock at your appearance, followed by a baffled stare when she catches a glimpse of your face.

“My word...” She gasps as tears continue to roll down her cheeks, “I never thought I’d see you again. He brought you back, I can’t believe he brought you back.” She runs forward wrapping her arms around you, a blubbering speech follows. “I’m so sorry, your b-brother... he’s gone. After everything that happened, everything you did, he’s still gone. An-and the threats to the crown, ever since his death everyone has been in an uproar. I haven’t dared to leave the grounds out of fear that someone will know I work here.” “It’ll be okay. We will figure this out.” You attempt to calm the maid you can only remember fragments of. She must have thought you had run off with Yoongi that night, but now is not the time to correct her with actual horrors you endured.

“Having you back now will surely pull the king and queen from their stupor. They have been pleading and praying for your return.” She looks down at your clothes with apprehension. “Court is in session right now. They are locked away until a matter is settled, but we can ready you to meet with them once they are finished.” You nod prompting her to seek out your wardrobe. “I’ve been keeping them well looked after in case of your return.” She pulls out a dark dress, a sign of mourning for your brother. “I believe this will still fit. You don’t look to have changed much.”

As she laces you in you can feel the garment tug on your ribs and chest. Maybe a little too small, but it will have to do for the time being. Once finished she escorts you to the dining room, while you continue to marvel at the empty halls. “Where is everyone?”

“Much has changed... your parents' fears have grown in the time you’ve been gone. They feel they can trust far fewer than they have before, and so, many of the staff were let go. If anyone ever even asked about you they too were sent away.” She stops at the set of double doors and urges you inside. “If you remain here and I will go and have the King and Queen informed as soon as the proceedings let out.”

“Wait, don’t leave...” You were going to ask her more questions to address the gaps in your past, hoping you might stir more than a few moments you have of her and your life here, but she has already closed the door and departed.

You are left in the dining hall, waiting only with the excessive spread of your parents forthcoming dinner. The feel of the room compared to the passage below is unfamiliar, unlike the dark narrow tunnel this place is void of memory and the feelings that come with it. You pray that such a disconnect will not last long.

Mounted up on the back wall you find your family’s portrait. Staring at it at the faces and details, you remain so until slivers of the painting's creation surfaces in your mind. You hated that gown, for its rigid seams and heavy fabric took quite a toll as you stood there for hours behind your brother. He was seated due to his condition but you were told to stand and remain still, while the prince takes the forefront of the picture.

It had been made not long before you disappeared from the kingdom. You can recall dwelling on how little blood you had left, while the painter took your likeness. Your parents look so happy in the portrait, thinking their son to be healing and ready to take on the throne, while you spent the whole time daydreaming of Yoongi’s return.

Your anger spikes as you think of him now, it is beyond doubt that he has noticed your absence. You will have to warn your parents and their guard of his possible travel to the kingdom to claim you for his clan. The secret passage will have to be sealed, taking with it your hopes to ever leave again.

Grabbing one of the many decanters and with a shaking hand pour yourself a goblet of wine. Seeking to soothe your trepidation of meeting your parents, you sip on the bitter drink while picking at the food of the central spread.

The hours pass while you take your fill, until finally, when the sky has long been dark your mother hurries first. Looking exactly the same as she once did in your memories, frantic and worried. “Thank heavens you are back. You are safe, we are safe.” She looks down at you, her face unchanged with time, and the skin of the arms which clutch you... you stare at them for a moment, perfect and untouched, but you remember... you recall deep gashes and blood, so much blood pouring down your fingers. Disturbed by the thought you shake yourself from your horrific vision and smile back at her. Expecting her to launch into a flurry of questions but to your surprise, both her and your father pose no queries.

“We knew he would find you again,” your mother cries with happiness. “We knew he would bring you back. The people, they will be so thrilled to hear of your return. The threats, the violence it will all be over soon.”

“You knew him? You asked him to find me?” The facts of her statement confuse you greatly, had they been privy to information your maid had not? For if she thought you were with him... what did your parents believe?

“My dear, are you well? Of course we did.” Your gaze once again focuses on the flesh of her forearms, as if entranced to the spot, while she brushes at your unkempt hair. Upon following your sight she pulls at the shawl of her dress in an awkward fashion, covering the length of her exposed skin. “Think not of what happened at our parting. All is well.” A painted grin plasters your mother's face. “We made all the changes necessary, you my darling, are to be next in line, not your children, but you. Your father had to work so hard to gain the approval of his lords, they thought it pointless to change the law in your absence, but here you are! Once your consort holds up the rest of his bargain your father will sign and you will be heir to the throne.”

This is all too much, you trying to keep hold of all the information while more is poured on to you. Unable to focus on anything other than their knowledge of Yoongi. Did they really meet him and make the request of him to bring you home? But to what bargain are they referring? “He did but I fear his clan has plans to remove me once again. We have to guard the old passage too, it’s already been nightfall for some time and I fear he won’t be far behind.”

“My poor girl... are you sure you are not ill?” Your mother’s head tilts in confusion. “He is already here, he has been for some time... you fled from his estate when he was just about to send for your return.”

You step away from your parents as fear tightens and grips your chest. “No, you can not mean. Not him, please not him-”

But your greatest nightmare returns to join you, with Taehyung waltzing through the double doors as if your parents castle is his own. “Princess, so good of you to join us. You shouldn’t have run off like that, you had your parents worried.” He approaches, inciting you to back into a wall in an attempt to keep your distance. Your parents don’t react with shock or fear at his sudden advancement on you, surely it is just a dream or vision then? One you are bound to wake up from soon. “But I knew you couldn’t run from me... only towards. Isn’t that right my sweet princess?” Though when his breath comes to find your ear you know him to be real. “I would have gone to find you myself, and take you back sooner, but your parents have been a rather large thorn in my side. Refusing to let me go until I-”

“And what of the other part of our bargain?” Your father calls from behind Taehyung, who grimaces and rolls his eyes at the interruption.

“They will be here shortly. My kin are acting on my behalf tonight, for I could wait no longer when I heard news of her arrival.”

“You have short changed us before,” the king admonishes. “I will not sign until I am certain the problem is dealt with.”

Taehyung turns from you entirely, the accusation leading him to snap back in anger. “That was your own doing, not mine, human. I gave you what you asked and you chose to squander it.”

With Taehyung now focused on your father, you are ready to run, to seek anything you might use against him, but your mother catches you before you can take two steps.

Shouting and jeering can be heard from just outside of the room, along with the heavy footfalls of several men, far too loud for what should be expected of the staff and guard. The procession outside bursts into the dinning hall. Your father’s lip curls ever so slightly as several men are pushed to their knees in front of him, muzzled and chained by the vampiric clan that restrains them.

Taehyung introduces them with a proud and theatrical air, as he takes a seat at the head of the table. “As you requested my liege, the leaders of the now failed rebellion.”

You recognize many of them from the tavern earlier, even the blacksmith whose hand Yoongi saved long ago. Your father after taking stock, waves them away, ordering them to be held out of his sight, until a public execution can be arranged.

You open your mouth to argue and condemn such brutal tactics when you are pushed down in the chair beside the monstrous vampire by your own mother. “You will sit still, be quiet, and do your duty for the family.” Despite her insistence your nails claw at her hold trying to free yourself from his side. As blood breaches her skin, so too does the memory of your first meeting with the vampire lord.

...

-Five years ago-

You look through the streets for hours hoping to catch even a glimpse or a whisper of Yoongi. Asking several people who pass you by, but no one knows of his whereabouts, nor has seen the distinguished surgeon in months.

With the sun ready to rise, you retire from town for the night. Stripping from the simple dress, you toss it to the side and return to bed for the hour you have left to sleep. When forced awake by duty, your day ultimately passes with you a hollow shell. Barely able to keep your eyes open from lack of rest, with a gnawing disappointment taking root in your stomach, distracting you from much else. You tell your maid of your plans to venture out again to find him, but she looks concerned by the prospect.

“You can hardly stand! What if, as a result of your current state, you cannot find him tonight? Your brother needs this and if you should fail... maybe we should tell the king and queen and let them put out a search for him?”

“No, I must do this on my own. He would not want them to be aware of his kind.” You go to take the plain gown but your maid grabs it first.

“I understand that you feel you must go. But please take an hour or two to sleep before you journey out. You look dead on your feet.” She does not relent, prodding and scolding until you are between the covers of your bed. “I will wake you once the castle is quiet enough for you to leave without being spotted.”

Nodding in agreement you submit to the coma of slumber rather quickly while she sits in the seat across from your bed. You wake hours later not by the hand of your staff, but from the hammering of rain pelting at your window.

You rise and call out, confused as to why she did not wake you earlier, but no answer responds. Lighting the candle on your bedside you find the chair empty of both her and the dress. You jump from your bed, in only your dressing gown and slippers reach for the door. When she bursts through it first, wearing the dress you intended to wear on the street.

“Where were you? Why didn’t you-”

“Princess, I found him!” Your lady’s maid exclaims happily, despite being absolutely drenched from the weather outside. “I went in your place so you could have more time to rest, and I found your friend, or I should say he found me.”

“You found him?” You breathe a sigh of relief, your brother is now safe and your plans with Yoongi can come to fruition. “Where is he now?”

“He’s with the king and queen.”

“My parents?”

“He wished to see them, mentioned something about desiring their permission. He’s already healed your brother, your mother and father couldn’t believe it.” She grabs hold of your hand and pulls you from the room, not caring that you don only your bed attire. “Come! They are waiting for you.”

Still half asleep and only semi-coherent you allow yourself to be ushered along to your father’s den. There he sits behind a desk quill pen in hand, your mother hanging over his shoulder, and settled across from them both is... someone who is not your vampire, someone who is not Yoongi.

The stranger smiles, showing off his sharp teeth as he gets up from his seat to deliver a sweeping bow. “Lord Kim Taehyung, at your service princess.”

You take a step back upon hearing the name that Yoongi warned you of so many times. “W-why are you here?” With concern immediately drifting to your lost vampire, for if his enemy has found you what could have befallen him.

Your mother scolds your response, “This man has offered his assistance, to aid in your brother's care, you will show him your respect.”

“It’s no matter,” Taehyung shakes his head at your mother. “Though I must ask, why do you look so scared princess? Your maid was looking for one of my kind, were you not seeking my help?”

“Is this true?” Your mother interjects, glaring at you. “You knew of people like him, those who could help your brother and you told us nothing?”

“I was looking for another,” you attempt to explain. “One who had been helping us in the past without your knowledge, he forbade me from revealing his kind to you.”

“What did this other tell you of me?” The lord smiles. “I should like to set my story straight, because you, princess, looked ready to flee the moment you heard my name.”

“What is it that you want?” You ask again. If he refuses to answer your question why should you obey his own. “I thought your kind did not wish to reveal their existence to humans.”

“When the situation is as important as this, exceptions can be made.” The vampire justifies, a crooked grin refusing to leave his mouth. “I am only here to offer my services to your family.”

“We already have the services of another. He was doing so for years before you came here, he will help my brother should he need it in the future.”

“Then where is he now?” Taehyung asks the dreaded question which stabs at your heart.

“He will be back...” You retort, hoping it to be the honest truth. “We do not require your help.”

Your father silences you with the stern call of your name and the hammer of his fist on his desk, before he too jumps into the argument. “I will overlook the concealment of your past acquaintances, along with the fact that you gave your brother treatment without our knowledge and consent. But I will not have you demean this man who just saved his life.”

“He is not a man!” You shout back at your king and father. “He is a monster. I have been told of his misdeeds, of his ethics. We can not trust him-”

“We have no choice! Without an heir the whole kingdom will become a place of ruin, an unclear line of descent will lead to chaos.”

“Then we wait. We wait for the one I can trust. He will be back soon, I know it.” Certain at least in this instance you know better than your parents, you plead for them both to listen.

“This is not a discussion.” Your father clarifies while the vampire takes out a bag, pulling from it two large corked bottles filled with a fluid far thicker than wine. “We called you here merely to inform you that we have accepted his services.”

“This should be enough to keep him healthy for a long span of human life. It will heal most ailments, and injuries, and when enough is consumed will even slow the course of ageing.” You watch as the vampire's attention falls on your mother during his explanation, his lip curls even further when her eyes brighten in interest over the properties of the cure.

You go to her, grabbing her arms so that she will focus on you alone, trying to convince her of the vampire's true nature. “This is a trick it must be. You can’t accept this, he will bring only ruin.”

“All that remains is the payment.” The Lord Taehyung adds, ignoring your plight.

Your gaze snaps back to him, when you hear of his charge. “What payment? What did you ask of them?”

“The cost for such a bounty of blood requires an equal sacrifice on your family's part.” The vampire beams with delight. “The blood needed for his life, in exchange for the blood of yours.”

Your stomach drops when you see your father dip his head in confirmation. They already knew the cost and still they bartered you off without much thought. Your hands continue to grip your mother’s arm. “Please... please listen to me. It doesn’t have to be like this. There’s another way, there has to be.”

“There is no other way.” She responds, her tone cold enough to match her words. “It is time you stop living in your dreams dear girl, those books you cling to, those maps you draw, they will bring us nothing in the end. You have scorned numerous suitors in the past few months alone, leaving your father and I at wits’ end trying to secure a noble future for you. If you will not have that duty, you will take this. Better to have your hands stained with blood than ink if it will at least save our prince.”

As she starts to push you towards your new fate, your fingers dig into the soft flesh of her arm, desperate to try and keep hold of your past life. Taehyung takes you by the waist and pulls you towards him leaving long lacerations down your mother’s skin as you continue to sob and beg for her to stop this. The thumb of your captor crosses your lips, bringing with it a metallic taste to your tongue. There’s a hushed order whispered in your ear to be quiet and complacent, and you do just that. Relaxing into Taehyung's arms while he carries you out and into a waiting carriage in the dark and drenched courtyard.

Once out from the castle walls his slick smile falls. He may have taken your ability to speak, but not your tears will to flow. Pulling out a kerchief, he cleans your hands of your mother's blood. After removing every spot he lifts the fabric to his nose, and winces at the smell. “It is still amazing to me that one like yourself could be born of such soiled stock.” He then tosses the cloth out the window of the carriage. “That’s better.” His hand lifts up to the stream that continues down your cheeks. “Do not weep my princess. They may not see the same value in you that I do, but I promise we will prove it to them soon.”

Angered by his declaration, you look away to the door, not wanting to give Yoongi’s adversary the satisfaction of your gaze. You knew you always weighed less in your parents mind. For you were second in their hearts even before your brother was conceived, second to the mere hope of a son. Swaying their love even a fraction in your favour was and is an impossible feat, a battle you could never win.

“I know you wished to leave them, my kin intercepted a letter addressed to a royal who was willing to abscond with a vampire.” You look back at him with eager eyes. A letter? Yoongi must have sent word and this lord stopped it from reaching you. “I see that I have your attention now do I?” Taehyung scoffs and sits back in the carriage clearly enjoying your regard. “I knew of a woman much like you before I became what I am. I once travelled the land with a troupe. Entertaining both the nobles and the masses, while dressed in simple white garments, with only a tapestry as a backdrop, and the floor as our stage. It was invigorating, the life that came from holding the eye of the courts, and one lady... one princess in particular.”

Taehyung pauses to look back at your castle before continuing his tale. You can do nothing but sit there and listen, his blood and previous demands continuing to hold you in his custody.

“She too was not content with the possible suitors before her, they could not offer her the multitude of lives she wished to live, but through narratives and plays I fulfilled that need. We could become whatever she or I wished ourselves to be. I was sure to see her as often as I could, but when her parents learned of our tryst, my group was banished, and she, to the bed of a neighbouring prince.” The vampire sighs as the story takes a darker turn. “I promised I would return to her when I could offer her a better home, but my cast and I, we ran afoul of a beast one night. When another caught the scent of our tragedy and found only me hanging by a thread, he took pity and made me one of them. I was so fearful to return to her at first, it took me several years to work up the courage and restraint before I could send her a letter begging to call on her again.”

Now engrossed in the tale and the comparison of his story to yours. You stop an attempt to fight his will, too curious of the outcome.

“She agreed to meet, stealing away from the castle at night to find me at a nearby inn. It was my intent to flee with her that evening, to give her not only all the lives she had desired, but an endless supply of existence. What I did not expect was for her to deny my proposal. In the time I had gone she bore the prince a child, and no longer desired to part with her new role. I was not willing to accept her answer... lost in the heat of my anger and hunger for her, I took the princess with me. Draining her of life, I added her blood to mine.”

You stiffen in your seat wondering if this too will be your end, recalling a cautionary tale your mother used to tell you. The story of a noble lady, who was bled dry by the parasitic and sinful world outside. You thought back then it was her way to scare you into not leaving the protection of the castle walls, never did you consider it to be real, nor that she would be the one to give you to the monster of the fable.

“The smell and taste, I have not had anything quite like her since... until this night, when I caught wind of your own scent upon your maid's dress. I was already on my way to see you, but she made it so much easier, for she spoke on my behalf to gain my entrance. Such a sweet girl, and so very much in love with your brother isn’t she? A shame that she will likely feel the same pain as I once did, a love that crosses classes only to end in death.”

Seething with rage at his confession, you wish to fight back and escape from his carriage but your own body will still not comply. You knew it, you knew he never intended to save your brother, he only wanted a bargain that would play in his favour. There is still a catch that remains unseen by you and your family, one that will result in the prince’s demise.

“They’ve hitched their kingdom to a dying horse, keeping it alive by selling off their only hope.” His finger follows the path of a tear down your jaw and falling to your collar. “I can promise you I will have far more roles and lives for you to play, more than you ever would have had with them. And you, you who have so much to give in return.” He opens his mouth, his breathing heavy as he leans towards your throat. “It's been so long since I’ve had someone of your calibre... I plan to savour you for far longer than the last.” Pushing you down, until you lie on the seat of the carriage, his teeth latch on, piercing the skin of your neck.

...

You drop your mother’s arms, leaning back upon remembering the part she had to play in giving you away. “You forced me into his custody? You are the reason I was made to endure his torture.”

“We had no choice. Your brother, he was dying.”

“And where is he now?” You shout back at them, all decorum vanished from the room. “You were given the cure, so why is my brother still dead?”

With that Taehyung smiles bringing light to the answer. “It would seem the temptation was too great for their own vanity. Even your lovely parting gift to her, erased by my remedy.”

The marks that should be on your mother's arms from your own assault, the ageing that should have become apparent since your last moment with them, none of it is there. All wiped away by the blood that would have given your brother a longer span of life. “You-you used it didn’t you... I should have known. It’s always been about appearances with you. Playing the strong hand to keep both me and your people in line. And when you ran out... you asked for more didn’t you?”

“He said he would keep our prince alive!” Your mother replies shaking from the accusation, but not denying it.

“I told you that what I gave you would be enough. It is not my fault that you chose to waste it.” Taehyung counters with a wicked grin, pleased by their faults and presumptions. “They let your brother die, not I.”

“Then why return now? Why come if you already received what you wanted out of the deal?” You question fearing his answer, for what more could he want.

“I promised I would one day make them see the value in you.” Taehyung explains. “And there is always another bargain to be made.”

“With your brother dead and you gone we needed an heir.” Your father sets out his quill and ink on the table along with a rolled document he’s been clinging to. “It is as we feared what might happen. Our rivals at court have been stoking the fires of our people, without any official descendant they grow discontent and worried about the security of the country's future, we need you back.”

“Though you still belong to me as per the first agreement,” Taehyung interjects. “So you will return, the law will be changed, and you will become the next in line instead of any child you might have produced. With me by your side, living as husband and wife, the future rulers of this kingdom.

“I won’t allow this.” You shake your head aghast by the thought of such a deal. “First you give him me, and now your people?”

“Those people are currently rallied against us, they would see the end of us if they could. You witnessed the proof.” The king gestures to the floor where the captured were held just a moment ago. “We need assistance in controlling them.”

“Because you’ve given them nothing to stand behind! Instead your first instinct is to feed them to a beast. Why do you still trust this monster? He will double cross you, my brother, your son is already dead, don’t let him take any more!”

There’s a knock on the door with the return of Taehyung’s vampire kin having stowed away the prisoners. He bids them to enter, while your father looks on somewhat ruffled by the impermanence of the lord’s comfort in his own home. “My part of the deal has already been given, they cannot back out now. Unless they would like those rebels to return to their people?”

The king shakes his head. Dipping the feathered pen he signs the parchment, and hands it off to the vampire lord.

“Thank you for your cooperation my liege...” Taehyung bows his head as he takes the paper, passing it off to one of his clan, before returning his unwanted attention to you again. “Your parents will live out the remainder of their lives as king and queen. As long as I can assure that their people will not revolt while they live. The throne will pass to us, and your people to mine.” He tilts up your chin, his thumb crossing over the small scratch on your forehead from your travels. Dipping his finger in your goblet of wine he touches the cut again. The familiar itch of healing skin crosses the surface of your brow. Your stomach turns with the knowledge of what you unintentionally consumed. “It’s a shame for them though...They won’t live long enough to see the benefits of my work here.” With the brush of his hand he gives the order to his clan, “Kill them.”

Your parents both stand in alarm, attempting to reason with the monster before you. “No, you swore-”

“That I would keep you safe from your people, not that you are protected from myself or my kind.” He addresses his fellow vampires once again, “If you insist on feeding on them do not do it here. I find their smell distasteful and I would rather not lose my appetite.”

His progenies take hold of your parents, dragging them away. They scream for their guards, but when no one comes to their rescue they call for you next. Pleading with you so that you might speak up on their behalf, with all dignity lost while they come to face their own mortality. You remain silent, any words frozen inside out of fear and hate. Your last duty to them would be what they always asked of you, to be quiet and still, until their screaming comes to an abrupt halt as they meet their end.

Now alone Taehyung rises from his chair and lifts you up onto the dining table, locking you in with his arms on either side. “I told you I could give you so much more than them, didn’t I promise you that? Do you remember?”

“I never said I wanted it from you.” Your furry has reached a new level, overwhelmed with contempt towards Taehyung, your parents, and yourself for not remembering sooner. “You believe their deaths will give you the kingdom? You forget that you had them sign it off to me. I will never consent to marrying you, and we both know your blood will not force me into such a binding contract. It's why you had to make deals with my parents is it not? Compulsion will not work when it comes to such bonds in ink, and you have nothing left to play in order to sway me.”

“Such a smart girl,” Taehyung coos, while brushing the side of your face. “However, it is not I who has forgotten but you, for I have already won that battle too. Here...” He takes a swig of the wine, and firmly grasps the back of your neck. Pushing more of the drink between your lips with his, Taehyung forces you to choke it back and drown in your own past. “Let me help you remember, my princess... my bride...”

...

- 4 years ago -

You open your eyes, to be greeted by unfamiliar surroundings. A soft bed beneath you, lying between warmed sheets with a handsome yet concerned looking man sitting at your side.

“Thank heavens you’re awake. You took quite a fall.”

You lift a hand to your head trying to dull a sharp ache in your temple. The man leans in closer without hesitation, an action which surely indicates a close tie with you, but you have no memory of him. His hands are cool yet you welcome them on the side of your face, for they diminish the pain. “I don’t remember-”

“It’s okay my princess. I'm glad you are saved from the trauma of reliving that event.” He comforts you with a boxy smile, that doesn’t quite reach the sadness of his eyes.

“No, not just that, I mean I don’t remember... I don’t remember you, where I am, nor why I am here.” You strain to recall your most recent past, everything seems so long ago. There are glimpses and fragments of moments and people which you manage to pull forth, your parents and their rule, your brother and his suffering, your castle and it’s cold walls that once surrounded you. The loneliness of your past brings a tear to your eye for it is all you can recall. Everything about this man before you seems to have vanished from your mind.

“No, no, no, don’t cry.” His expression falls, as his hand shifts to wipe beneath your eyes, he swallows his shaking breath in clear distress over your loss. “I promised that I would look after you, that I would treat you well. Your parents, what will I tell them? They will rightfully blame me for letting you get hurt like this.”

The fear and sadness strewn across his handsome face is more than you can bear. You reach out a hand to his to comfort him back. “Could you remind me of your name sir?”

“Taehyung, and please don’t be so formal. There’s no need with me.”

“Then our relationship to each other...”

He takes your hand, tracing your fingers with his, before planting a kiss on your fourth digit. “We have been promised to one another. Your parents agreed to let you leave your own kingdom to be with me.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry... I don’t remember, I don’t remember anything. I can’t-”

“It’s okay my princess. It’s not your fault, but mine. You were hurt under my care. I’ll help you to rebuild what we have. We’ll start from the beginning, if we have to. I just can’t endure the thought of losing you entirely. Please just tell me what you need, whatever I can do, it will be done. I will help you to fall for me over and over, if it means I can continue to be with you.”

...

Taehyung spends the nights alongside you tending to your every desire, reciting poetry and plays to keep you entertained while you remain on bed rest for your injury. You feel bound by his kindness, and so guilty for not being able to recall your own past together.

During the day he is forced away from your side. He has a demanding role filled with travel and responsibilities, your only hope is that when he deems you well enough, you will spend that time together too. That you will be able fulfill this building desire within, to go out and journey for his role together.

But the weeks pass with no change in your situation.

Until one night when it all becomes too much to conceal. When left by his caretakers to bathe, you dissolve into sorrow over the fact that your loss of memory is holding you back. Your wedding to him was to be days from now, but he has called it off until you can recover what you lost. Your wracking sobs echo through the empty room as you commiserate alone. Questioning what you could possibly do to dispel this suffering.

You did not expect the sound to summon Taehyung, who comes bursting in without thought to your current state of dress. “Princess I-I...” He stops in his tracks and turns on his heel, shielding his eyes from your nude form. “Forgive me, I was not made aware that you were bathing.”

You press yourself to the side of the tub. Shy at first but when you find him more so, you beckon him over, just as he is about to reach for the door. “No wait, don’t leave. If you go I fear I will only feel more guilt over our situation.”

“Guilt? To what shame are you referring? Have I not made you comfortable here? Do you not have everything you need?” Taehyung abides by your call, joining you beside the tub, and swallowing as he glimpses you in the water.

“I do, and that is the issue. I remember nothing other than your care and kindness. You have given me everything you can, and I have nothing to grant you in return.”

“That’s not true-”

You press a damp finger to his lips, urging him to let you finish. “Despite not having a memory of our past, there is this need inside me... it’s difficult to express, but it calls out for someone like you. I do not wish to continue this cautionary stance, waiting and hoping for something that might not return. I do not want to hold us back. I think we should still marry, for I cannot see my life in any other way.”

Taehyung gives you a small smile along with a kiss to your hand which still lingers near his mouth. While his own reaches into the tub, his fingers twirling in the water just above your leg. “There is still much you don’t know about me.”

“Then I will learn it as it comes. Please, I long to move past this. I cannot and will not remain in this present, with you restraining yourself because of me. I truly believe that moving forward with the original plan is the best course of action.”

“If that is what you desire,” He the tips of his fingers submerge further until they draw against your thigh. “I will resume the plans between you and I.”

...

The ceremony is modest, with only you and Taehyung reciting your vows under the night sky. After signing a document to confirm your ties, he whisks you off to the bedroom to consummate the new promise between you.

The strength of the man before you comes as quite a shock as he rips the laces of your gown in his eager hunt to find the flesh beneath, until your best dress soon lays in tatters on the floor. His hunger for you appears to reach a new level, with his mouth nipping and devouring every inch he has exposed. Your situation has held you both back for so long, but at least now you will both get to revel in the path forward together.

Once bare he flips you on to your stomach and disrobes himself. His taut legs come to straddle your hips, while his hands run up your back and down your arms. Taking your wrists he pins them over top of your head. “Just a precaution my princess,” He chuckles your ear as his leather belt wraps around. Tightening them together before the strap loops the headboard and is once again threaded through the buckle, wittingly securing you to the bed. “For if I am worried over the possibility of you fleeing, I might lose myself, and consume too much of you.”

“I have no plans to run.” You muse, giggling at his passion.“But I will concede to your bondage if it satisfies you.”

“I was hoping you would agree.” He teases his index along your slit, drenching your sensitive skin, and preparing you for his swollen cock. You raise your hips eagerly towards him and he takes the hint. Laying down over top of you he guides himself in with one hand while the other loops your waist.

You gasp from the stretch before gritting your teeth trying to hide the brief moment of pain. Taehyung swears as his forehead comes to rest on your shoulder, his breath shaking as much as yours while he inhales deeply. A growl echoes in his throat which he promptly clears. “Princess, am I... am I your first?” There’s a hint of surprise in his voice, but you can not understand why that would be so.

“If I was promised to you... I can not see why I would have laid with another.” You answer somewhat hurt by the notion that he thinks you would have been unfaithful in the past. Your memories might be limited, but you can not believe that would be the kind of person you are, to be unfaithful to one so kind would make you a monster.

“Yes, of course.” He sighs, “I just, I had not...” He empties his throat again. Hugging you tightly as he pushes his cock in further. “My dear princess, so good to trust me with such a gift.”

You exhale with a confirmation. “I am all yours.”

With Taehyung resting deep inside he pauses for another moment. His fingers trapped between you and the bed shift down to your mound where they press and cause you to buck back onto him. “Forget the pain for now...” He whispers in your ear while the deep circles he rubs shift you from discomfort to pleasure. Your twitching responses beguile him as you clench down on his shaft. The growl in his voice returns and grows deeper, he thrusts along with you. A need inside your start to build, your breathing stutters while he continues on. “...And come for me.” Your nerves reach their peak at his words, holding you in place until the tension inside you finally releases and the warm waves run from head to toe.

As you ride out your climax Taehyung pushes forward with his own. His cock continues to swell, demanding more of you, until he comes to his end and collapses twitching with content. With a groan he wraps his arms around you and nuzzles your back, while you remain trapped beneath him.

You tug on his belt wanting to touch him and hold him as he does to you. But even once he has come himself, he does not appear to be fully parted from his lustful needs. He shifts down so that his face can be found between your thighs. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as you inquire for him. “Taehyung, please-”

“Don’t fret my princess, I just- I just want to- there was some blood drawn in my haste to have you, I would like to kiss it better.” He chuckles before his tongue comes to find your folds. The beastly sounds from him become far greater than before as he laps at the spot. Your hesitation is cast aside as you soon delve into pleasure once again.

His fingers clamp down on your legs as he feeds from your cunt with an even stronger resolve. “I must- I must have more.” He begs of you.

“I am yours to take.” You respond, eager to indulge more from his affectionate appetite.

But as soon as your permission is granted an unimaginable pain pierces the skin and muscle of your thigh. His mouth latches onto the source of such misery, and draws on the wound taking deep drafts. “Taehyung?” You cry out in confusion, pulling the bonds he left you in.

Your lord and husband suspends the act. Rising up to release you from the headboard, he takes your restraints in his hand. Flipping you back over and pinning you back down beneath him. You find your groom smiling while his mouth drips with blood. He chuckles lightly at your horror, taking in your fear. “Did you have a change of heart my princess? I’m sorry to have brought such a swift end to our happy scene, but tomorrow we may start over... once I’ve had my fill.”

...

After the first Taehyung proceeds to push upon you several moments wrought in passion and pain. The concealment of his identity to become your love, and of course the times when he chose purely to torture you as your captor.

You come to understand that your past with Taehyung is a series of tales, with him portraying the villain, or the hero. Going from captor, to suitor, to husband, only to break you by becoming your captor once again. He’s crippled you countless times, in so many different ways, choosing whichever act suits him in the moment, gorging himself off your emotional defeat the same way he feeds your blood, in the most painful way possible.

“A small sample of our time together, but you see princess, you are already bound to me in matrimony. I have what I need for my clan. My followers will have access to any house, any dwelling on our kingdom’s land once I give them my consent to enter.”

“Y-you have no right to do that!” You stutter, trying to push down the past to focus on the present.

“Oh but I do as your husband, as the new king I now have partial claim. My men will be able to feed within the safety of your peoples homes. Hunting them in their beds will be far easier than being restricted to the streets.”

“They are not cattle for you to feed upon!”

“How is that any different than your family's rule?” Taehyung scoffs, looking to the ornate room around you both. “Your parents in their vanity and greed bleed them dry, to the point where they were begging for a change, even if it was the rule of a young man who had barely stepped into adulthood. They will be grateful for the passing of the king and queen, and for the new rule. Remembering the vampires who will now stalk them while they sleep only as a passing nightmare.”

“That does not make what you are doing any better.” You argue, though you know it to be pointless.

“Not in your eyes, but my people will at least benefit from the sacrifice of your own. They trust me to do right by them. Can yours say the same about you? Will you bear the pain of your suffering and theirs? All that’s left is for us to choose which story we should play next. Would you like to forget it all again? To have me return to the role of doting lover and husband? Or would you prefer to recall that which has brought you pain? Your parents, your brother, and myself, knowing that soon my people will feast on yours.”

To remember would be the only chance you have in finding a weakness to him, any attempt to remove him from his position will require your knowledge of what happened in the past and what is happening in the present. Who knows what story he would otherwise weave next, but he will no doubt pull the wool over your eyes if you let him.

“I will give you until the end of this night to choose, if you don’t I will do so for you. But I am so very ready to return to our routine. These past few weeks have been a torment without you to entertain and fulfil me.” His finger traces an x on your neck, marking the spot he intends to bite. “I will never again allow us to be parted for so long.” The point of his teeth make contact with your skin, when the door opens and one of his keepers calls for him. “What?!” Taehyung shouts back in frustration. “What could possibly be so important that you must interrupt my dinner?”

“There is a hunter demanding entrance at the gate.” The vampire informs, looking rather shaken for having displeased his lord. “Says he won’t leave until he sees proof that you received your princess. It seems that he was trying to deliver her when she ran off in the daylight earlier today.”

“So someone did find you... that would explain...” His hands soften on your neck running his fingers over the previously tortured flesh. He then turns to the vampire waiting for his answer. “What is the hunter’s name?”

“Agust, my lord.”

Your head snaps up with your eyes wide. Yoongi is here, and he knew to call himself Agust? That can only mean, the secrets kept from him by his clan, the truth that would break you, it was the knowledge of Taehyung’s presence here.

“Is this the case my princess? Did this Agust find you and intend to bring you here?” You bite your tongue but he pushes his power over you again. “Tell me the truth of this matter.”

“He did.” You can’t be sure of what Yoongi intends to do once inside, but at least your forced honesty did not betray his cover.

“He has my permission to enter. Bring him to me now, I owe him my gratitude for taking such good care of my princess.” The vampire guard leaves to grant the other access.

Taehyung traces his teeth with his tongue. Appearing unusually happy despite the fact that his meal was disturbed. “You will remain seated and quiet, while I reward this hunter for his deeds, is that understood princess?” You reluctantly nod, submitting to his compulsion.

Yoongi, accompanied by four of Taehyung's kin, enters the dinning hall and promptly bows. “My lord.”

“Agust... I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of speaking before have we?”

“No my lord, I’ve dealt only with your keepers. But it was my honour to retrieve your princess as requested.” You meet his eye when they flicker in your direction trying to decipher his plan, but are unable to see a way out that could have possessed him to take such a risk.

“Yes, I must thank you for bringing her most of the way. I am surprised that you knew to find me here though, I thought that was kept confidential from the hunters.”

“It was my lord but I learned of your occupation here only recently, such a large group of vampires in a human city does not go unnoticed for long.”

“Then I commend you, for doing what many of my other hunters could not.” Taehyung smirks at his own kin’s expense. “Tell me who was your maker, from which line do you descend?

“Your caretaker Egan, my lord.” Yoongi offers, his tone flat and even. “Though I don’t know if he would recall me, I am one of many.”

“Egan you say?” Taehyung pauses, with a raised brow and pout, which soon fades into a smile after a moment's hesitation. “He has created a fair few hasn’t he?” He chuckles. “Now you were not able to finish my task to completion, but I will still grant you the reward of becoming a keeper if you can complete just one other challenge.”

“Of course my lord.” Yoongi promises, watching adamantly with his hand twitching at his side.

“There is someone I need you to find, one who has been haunting me for quite some time. Before my princess met me she fell in love with another of our kind. A vampire who works for Lord Hoseok, and goes by the name Min Yoongi. It took me a year to find the full extent of the boundaries in her memory that relate to him, I needed to empty her of love for that fool, and take it for myself. I was successful in the end of course.” He tips your chin with his finger delighting in the pained expression you bear at the thought. “But I would like to see the end of him, and purge anything that might hope to take her from me.”

“I understand...” Yoongi responds through a clenched jaw. Peeking a concerned glance at you when Taehyung's back turns to him.

“I think she might be able to help you start your quest. You know where to find this Yoongi, do you not my princess?”

You dip your head, as a tear slips from your cheek and falls to your lap. You bite your tongue in an attempt to hold back your answer but Taehyung presses again with the compulsion of his blood. “You will answer me, out loud.”

“Yes,” you confirm, your eyes meeting with Yoongi’s again, pleading for him to go now, and escape before you reveal anything else.

“Do you think it will be an easy task for this vampire Agust to find him?”

“I do.” You utter with a reply stolen from your lips.

Taehyung mutters in your ear for his final question. “Is he the one who stands before us now my princess?” Panic instantly seizes you, with every function of your body coming to a halt, wondering how he could have found out. The moment your mouth starts to open, Yoongi launches himself at Taehyung, but his attack is quickly brought to a halt by the vampire lord who draws his own stake. Shoving Yoongi across the room and into the arms of his guard.

“You thought you could fool me after so many of your brethren tried and failed?” The cruel lord chides with a low chuckle. “There have been too many errors on your part, the greatest of which was the name of your false creator.” He approaches his new prisoner dragging the point of the stake along Yoongi’s chest while he is held in place. “A misstep of Egan’s allowed for her to escape, and so I sent the order for him to be disposed of. I knew the deed was done mere hours ago when I watched a progeny of his wither away before my eyes. If you were of his blood you too would have perished.” Taehyung explains before he paces away twirling the stake between his fingers. “What a wicked curse we must endure is it not? Though it does have its advantages... I wonder how many will I wipe out with your death?” Your heart beats wildly in your chest longing to run forward and prevent such an event. “It will come soon, of that there is no question, but not before I take every ounce of information you hold about Hoseok’s current plans.”

“You will get nothing from me unless you let her go,” Yoongi growls.

“Let go of my own bride?” The restrained vampire flinches at the comment as Taehyung grins and prods further. “I suppose you didn’t know. You must forgive her for not informing you, she couldn’t recall it herself until a few minutes ago. Regardless, I have no plans to free her, for I believe the closer I am to your beloved the more I will get from you.” Taehyung joins you at your side again. “What do you think princess? Would you like an admirer for our performance? I’m sure even the steadfast Min Yoongi would bend to my will if he witnesses you in my favourite roles.”

Taehyung’s attention is drawn away from the pair of you when more of his keepers enter the room greeting him with a nod. “Alas the show will have to wait. I have permissions to grant, and a story to feed your staff,” The vampire lord sighs and acquiesces to their needs, grabbing the decanter from which you took a glass. “The rest of your people will come after.”

Taehyung gestures to one of his men. “He will take you to your room, and you will remain there until I return. I look forward to having a more fulfilling reunion between you and I come dawn.” His fingers brush against your cheek one last time before addressing the vampires holding Yoongi. “Keep him locked up along with the revolutionaries for now. I will call upon him later.”

Yoongi continues to lash out as you are both dragged in opposite directions. Barring his fangs at those who hold him, but he is soon subdued with the addition of another clan member and carried out of sight.

Your own escort doesn’t say a word as he takes you through the empty halls, and staircases with one hand grappling your upper arm. Any attempt to pull it from him is met with a snarl and tighter hold. As you pass the rooms of the hall you wonder where Taehyung has the remaining staff kept and despite the lies forced down their throat you hope they will remain untouched.

The guard opens a door and pushes you in, sending you to the ground before locking it behind. The dimly lit room is unfortunately not your own, consisting only of a bed, washstand, and shuttered windows. Rising from the timber floor you find a stain on your hands and dress originating from the spot on which you landed, a spill, red enough to be the remnants of a vampire's meal. You start heaving at the thought, running to the filled basin desperate to remove the sticky scarlet substance. With hands shaking as they are submerged in water, your entirety follows suit, quaking in fear of what has just transpired and what is left to come.

Your parents are lost, they dug their own grave, but your fellow citizens, and Yoongi... you have to find him, before he too is lost and your people are reduced to a mere spattering on the floor.

You pull on the shutters of the window, releasing them to peer out and see if there is any hope to scale out of this one too. The height from the ground might be manageable, but a pair of glowing eyes looking up to you from the garden stops your attempt. The gaze from below continues to watch until you retract and close the space between you again. Taehyung's caretakers and keepers are as eager to keep and feed on you as he is. Visions of past attacks start to flood your mind, making you regret your venture to look out. You tried to escape so many times in your past captivity. Each one with the exception of the last was foiled by his keepers or caretakers, some brought you straight back to your room, while others... others were swiftly intercepted by the lord of the fortress, but only after they landed their first bite.

Retreating to the corner of the room, you set yourself down at the furthest point from the door and window. Left alone to stare at the crimson puddle, as you wait for Taehyung’s return. There is no question that you have to bear the weight of your memories as painful as they are, you can not afford to forget the past. Not now, not with Yoongi nor your people in jeopardy. You wonder if Taehyung will strike such a deal with you. If you promise to abide by his command without his blood, will that be enough to buy at the very least Yoongi’s safety?

The minutes pass while you consider your options, distracted only when there comes a thump from the shutters. You rise from your spot and move closer to the door. The boards made to conceal the daylight shatter inward with another hit, knocking over the solitary candle and casting you into darkness. The shadowy intruder leaps in, their gleaming eyes holding you in their sights.

Figuring it to be one of the Taehyung’s progeny’s come for a taste, you draw breath to scream. Until the vampire collides with you, holding you down, and covering your mouth.

“I told you to stay in the room.” The hushed tones of Yoongi greet you to your immense relief. “Why didn’t you listen to me? Why did you run?” He waits there for a moment, removing his hand only when you finally relax beneath him.

“Yoongi...” You gasp in relief. “I overheard you and Seokjin. When I saw you give into the demands... I-I didn’t know, I didn’t realize-”

There’s a knock interrupting your explanation, the vampiric guard no doubt alarmed by the commotion. You both fall silent, but that does not seem to satisfy the sentry, who proceeds to unlock the door. Yoongi jumps up ready to meet him with a stake. As the barrier opens, the vampire tries to step inside, making it only far enough in for the wooden weapon to reach his heart. Yoongi grabs the enemies throat in the last moments, committing him to silence until death before tossing the corpse to the side. Treating the newly dead as nothing more than a bothersome distraction.

Yoongi turns back to you but keeps his distance, a growl rattling in his throat as he takes deep breaths. “I told you before, I would never take you there. I had no wish to abide by the request from my lord. I could not tell Seokjin of my plans to disobey while we remained in his house. I was going to take you as far away as I could after learning the whole truth behind your capture, but your stunt put everything in jeopardy, including yourself.”

You start to sob upon hearing his deception, you should have guessed that with such a reveal from his own clan he would try to deceive them too, like the others he dealt with on your behalf. He closes the gap between you, pulling you in close, allowing your tears to fall on his chest. “How-how did you escape just now? I thought for certain he had us both in his grasp.”

“I kept hold of the tainted blood, and those holding me were in desperate need of a drink. One sip and they were at my mercy instead.” He lips grace the top of your head with a kiss as you cling to him. “We’re going to get you out of here okay? We’ll go down to the passage. I have already released those he captured, if he has a mob on his hands, we might slip out undetected.”

“I can’t leave, not yet-”

“Why, because he compelled you to stay?” Yoongi questions, attempting to dismiss your concern. “I will carry you out if your own volition fails to do so.”

“It is not that alone... he was not lying when he told you I was his-his-” You stall on the word unable to say it yourself. “In those five years, he played with my mind, he made me forget you and desire him instead, a-and I fell for it. It is because of me he now has a claim to every home in the town. This is my error to fix. I will not leave those who dwell here to feed his own.”

“You are not to blame for his actions.” He counters, his own voice cracking in desperation. “Your remaining here will not change that.”

“I only wish to remain so I can bring an end to him, to kill him.” You promise. “Either way, whether successful or not I will not exist here long.

“No, I am not letting you near him again. If we must do this then let him be mine to kill.”

“He thinks me in here unarmed and broken to his will,” You open Yoongi’s jacket to find another stake that he must have stolen from Taehyung’s followers. “I will have a better chance. It would be better for you to ensure that his clan has not brought harm to anyone else.”

“And leave you here to face him? If he falls so do his own progenies, which includes most if not all of his keepers. There will be no point in my leaving to dispose of them, if your main goal is to defeat him.”

“If he sees you he will be instantly aware. When he is as strong as you say then even you won’t be able to defeat him without catching him off guard.”

“I am not leaving you alone with him even if you are armed, and that is final.” Yoongi takes his firm stance, while grabbing at the stake in your hand. “I will not lose you again...”

You look down at the deceased on your floor, fearing the same fate for Yoongi should he remain here with you. Taehyung has proven time and time again that none can fool him for long, not Yoongi, not his clan members, even those who disobeyed him attempting to draw blood from you were cast aside... with Taehyung throwing himself between you and them. “If you will not leave then... I need you to bite me.”

Yoongi follows your gaze in confusion, “What is it you are plotting your highness?”

“He will no doubt come running if he smells my spilt blood. He has before. If he thinks I am in danger from his own, I will be able to get close with his guard down.” You take the stake back from him while he considers your plan, gripping it in your fist behind your back. “All you have to do is play the threat.”

“Will you not wait for another alternative? My clan could be here in a day to deal with them.”

“He is hungry, and all too confident of victory.” You plead with your vampire. “If we wait-”

“If we wait he will be more likely to catch on...” Yoongi growls confirming your thoughts, as he begrudgingly bends down to take the cloak of the defeated guard. Tying it around he pulls the hood over his head. “This is unbelievably reckless you know. I should just take you from here this instant.”

“But you won’t.” You reply with a sad smile reaching up to touch his cheek with your hand, and press a kiss to his lips. “You long for an end to this as much as I.”

With his back to the door he takes you into his arms. When hunched over you Taehyung should not know who he is until it is too late. Yoongi places his mouth ready to sink into your neck. “Are you sure you want to be the one to-”

“I have to.” You cut him off before he can even try to change your mind again.

With a deep sigh his teeth pierce your skin, the blood starts to flood from the wound and Yoongi lets out a low pained groan as he resists the urge to feed. For the more blood that escapes and is left to the air, the sooner that Taehyung will come running to investigate your situation. After a minute passes, you start to feel light headed and grip your weapon tighter.

“If he doesn't come soon I will have to put a stop to this.”

“He will come,” you gasp. “Just wait.”

Right on cue there comes a shout from down the hall along with the thunder of footsteps. Your door crashes open to reveal the ferocious monster.

Yoongi is thrown to the wall, and promptly disregarded in the moment by Taehyung, whose immediate attention is more occupied with you spilling out before him. “She is mine,” he seethes looking ravenous after not feeding on you for weeks. His hunger distracting him from the arm you have tucked behind your back. While pulling you closer to take a taste himself, you draw your own weapon, stabbing him through his heart with the stake.

He looks down to injury with a sobering disbelief, his words heavy on his lips with a low chuckle as he forces out his final thoughts before his demise. “Well played princess... you had me thinking I was to be your hero again.”

“You were never my hero, only my assailant.” You shove the stake deeper into his chest. “And now my fatality.”

Taehyung gasps and delivers one last cruel smile. “A fitting end, though I can think of one better. Why part here, when you can join me in death.” He launches at your throat ready to strike and bleed you further, when his actions are cut short by another.

With the stake pulled from the other vampire, Yoongi pierces him through the back, and takes hold from behind preventing Taehyung’s last threat. The vampire lord's eyes go wide showing a brief moment of fear before he finally succumbs to death. Pulling yourself from his clutches you take a deep breath and rejoice in the freedom, though the feeling doesn’t last long.

Already dizzy from the loss of blood you are in no way prepared for the surge of memories that flood back. With Taehyung dead his physical hold on you diminished, but the pain of his manipulation, the trauma and loss he has inflicted on you hits as a wave, and pulls you under.

Yoongi is there to heal the wound on your neck, he calls to you repeatedly though his voice along with your vision of him are clouded amongst your thoughts. Your heart pounds and head races as it continues to try and register the influx of everything you lost.

There’s a soft touch to your temple, as a whisper from him finally makes it through. “Be strong my love, you can conquer this too.”

You can feel yourself being lifted as the room moves around you. Clinging to his coat you utter your wish to leave, unwilling to spend another moment in this castle. Fully slipping as he draws you in closer.

...

When the haze lifts you come to find yourself in another bed. Not one of the castle’s no, it seems Yoongi had observed that request, but the location is still worrisome for it is the same room you had shared with him in Seokjin’s house. You immediately sit up, panicking over your last memory of this place, and fearful of Yoongi’s clan’s intent.

Your vampire sleeps on a chair beside you, though his head and chest are slumped over on the mattress and his hand encasing yours. Stirring the second your grip leaves his and you attempt to get from the bed. He grabs at your shoulder pushing you back down with ease, “What do you think you are doing? You are in no state to be running off.”

“Yoongi... why are we here? If Seokjin-”

“This was the only safe place I could think to bring you. You have nothing to fear here now. Seokjin will not do anything, he knows he was in the wrong to suggest such compulsion, and Namjoon has promised retribution on your behalf if he continues such behaviour.” Yoongi briefly smirks at the thought of the pair, though his expression soon darkens as his hand brushes your hair from your face as you relax back into the bed. “I thought- I was worried I lost you back there.”

“I-I couldn’t control it, there was so much that I had lost and most of it difficult to bear again...” You grimace at the pain of it, prompting Yoongi to lean in to kiss your blow and pull a small smile from you again. “I should never have returned. I should have trusted you more, I’m so sorry for putting you in danger like that.”

“It was not your fault. You had every reason to doubt me given your past and what you knew. I can’t imagine what it was like, but...” He looks down avoiding your eyes as he rubs your hands, the words that follow are just as tentative and soft. “If you should- I don’t know if- if you need me to help you discard any memories I will do so. Doesn’t have to be now or ever, but if you ever need me to... don’t feel like you have to carry the weight of it alone.”

You nod your eyes tearing up with gratitude for his offer. “Thank you, there will be some moments that I- that I will be glad to be rid of.” Yoongi’s warm smile comes with his arms to wrap around you in a tight hug. You wince as your muscles stain to return the affection, feeling as though they have seized from lack of use. “How long have I been under?”

“The longest two nights of my existence.”

“Two nights?” You exclaim pulling out of the embrace in shock. “What has happened since? Was anyone else hurt before I-I-”

“No one else, but the castle,” Yoongi sighs looking hesitant to tell you the rest. “The castle was set aflame in an act of defiance. It was sentenced to burn once the staff and resistance had cleared it of everything of value.”

“Good,” you whisper.

“There is more... Seokjin has been keeping a close eye on the situation.” Yoongi discloses. “But, when word spread that you returned only to vanish again, many believed your appearance to be that of an imposter rather than their former princess. They thought you a tool of the mysterious lord attempting to gain power.”

“And their plans to create a new form of rule?” You ask, the focus of your question leading Yoongi to tilt his head in confusion.

“Going forward without much backlash, but-”

“Then they have every right to think so. I am very different from their lost princess.” You smile to Yoongi’s surprise. “I am a threat to them now, a threat to the future governance they plan to install. Any version of me might sow the seeds of discord in progress if I was to return. If this story of me being a deceiver will help them to rebuild, then let them think it. I will make no plans to return.”

Yoongi nods in understanding, though his expression still holds regret. “I am sorry I was not able to deliver you home as promised.”

“That place was not my home for so long, not since you-”

A loud knock comes from the front door of the small home, reaching you all the way in your upstairs room. Yoongi stiffens in the seat next to you as muffled voices are soon heard too. Your vampire stands going to the door where Seokjin appears a moment later with news. “It’s Lord Hoseok. He’s here, and he wants to see you.”

“Don’t you dare let him in.” Yoongi pushes back. “Not with her here, not now.”

“I can’t exactly deny him entrance,” Seokjin scoffs. “This is his house-”

“Fine, then I will.”

Seokjin puts a hand on Yoongi’s chest and prevents him from storming off into a confrontation. “You know you can’t stop him. If he wishes to see her he will, but right now I think his main concern is you. Do not anger him if there is no reason to. See what he wants then come to a judgement.”

The same loud knock you heard below then arrives at your bedroom door, breaking off the disagreement between the two vampires.The guest you know not to require permission, but it seems that he would rather enter on your terms rather than his own.

“Yoongi?” You call to him, witnessing the dread in his face when he turns to look at you. “I should like to speak to him too.”

Yoongi’s reluctant hand turns the lever, letting his lord inside. Your own vampire stands between the two of you preventing you from getting a good look as the first words are exchanged.

“My Lord.”

“Tell me it is so, that it is true. Is Taehyung- ” The vampire lord immediately launches into the heart of the matter. The weight of his tone sends shivers to even you.

“Dead, my lord.”

“Thank you Yoongi, I am in your debt.” The tension in his voice quickly falls away.

“It was not I alone who defeated him sir. The credit also goes to the woman who you thought you would contain to your fortress.” Yoongi mutters with malice.

“I app-” His lord steps further in, allowing him to finally catch a glimpse of you. He pauses for a moment as he takes you in, his mouth hangs open and a single word falls in greeting, “Mansin?”

Though the word is foreign to you Yoongi reacts in an instant, returning to your side, he growls and his superior in defiance while positioned in your defence. “She is not-”

Lord Hoseok seems to catch himself and apologises. “A mistake Yoongi, an honest mistake, I see that she is bound to you. You must forgive me,” He whispers while giving a sad smile in penance. “Something in your expression reminded me of someone I once knew.” He politely touches upon his error, but leaves you with no reason for Yoongi’s reception. “I must give my thanks to you as well then, for you saved me the pain of having to kill my own creation.”

Alarmed by the confession you try to stand but Yoongi’s hand once again comes down to your shoulder. “Then Taehyung was yours? You created that monster?!”

“It was not my intention to have him turn out in such a way.” The vampire lord growls at the censure, causing Yoongi to grow ridged next to you. “I found him as an innocent young man dying, whispering the name of the one he loved, the one he was bound to. I took pity on him, would you not have done the same?” Hoseok raises an eyebrow as he throws his choice back at you.

You swallow and nod in response. “I suppose I would have.” The swift changes in mood of the vampire lord keep you on guard, intimidating in one moment and considerate in the next. It’s easy to see why Yoongi might be wary of him around you.

“I chose to banish him from the clan when he killed his former mate, your ancestor, for I could no longer trust him. He sought revenge on both your family and mine, and it is my fault alone. I knew that Yoongi would prefer to keep you as far away as possible, but Taehyung would likely have tracked you down sooner or later. I wanted to make up for that by offering you a safe place at my fortress but I can see that it was misconstrued.”

“Thankfully your assistance with my residence is no longer required.” You convey, hoping that he has abandoned the notion, since the threat is no longer stalking you.

“Yes... thankfully.” Lord Hoseok reiterates with a weak grin.

“If you are in our debt as you say then I would like to make a request of you.” You ask much to Yoongi’s surprise, resulting in his head snapping in your direction.

“A request?” Hoseok blinks, a grin twitching in his lips. He grabs the chair from the desk, turning it to face you before taking his seat. “What have you to ask of me?”

“My old kingdom, I want to ensure the health of the people. I ask that if your clan goes there to feed they use the tactics that Yoongi has been operating under.” Yoongi finally exhales and relaxes, as you explain your wish, a small smile crosses his lips with what looks to be pride.

“I understand your position, and would agree immediately if there were to be no recourse, but to put such limitations on my clan without any amendments or accommodations to offer in return... many would turn rogue.” Hoseok shakes his head. “No, if I ordered that, we might find ourselves in another situation like before.”

You consider what you have left to give with nothing left from your family to offer, you have only what you may have acquired through matrimonial bonds. “Tell me when a vampire dies, what happens to the ownership of their residences.”

“It will go to whomever they deemed a second who was not created by their own lineage. Yoongi was once my own. I don’t know if Taehyung- ”

“But if they had taken a wife who survived them?” You ask.

“They would be yours...” Yoongi mutters beside you in understanding.

You nod grimacing at the prospect of owning his land. “I want no part of them. But if they will help you to convince your clan to adjust their feedings and continue to help those of my former kingdom they are yours.” You offer to Hoseok. “Every fortress, waypoint and house that belonged to him will all be transferred to your own clan. ”

“Then I accept your terms,” Hoseok nods in agreement. “But where will you go?”

You look to Yoongi to give the answer. Caught off guard he pauses before responding with the simple direction of, “East, we plan to head east.”

...

...Two months later...

Yoongi stops the horse and dismounts beside an overgrown field, looking at the land with a deep contented sigh. “This is it.” He lights a lantern for you before treading into the long grass, in search of the foundation of his old home.

He was right, there is little left, but regardless of that fact you help him by clearing the roughage from any remains you can find. Pausing only when he does, while uncovering what seems to be a rotting wooden board laying on the ground. Upon further inspection you find it to shield a substantial cavern below with steps leading into the darkness.

“If that’s the cellar... Then that must mean.” Yoongi mutters, before taking a few steps away, counting his paces as he goes. Hunching down over a higher patch of ground, he tears away the long weeds, until a stone hearth reveals itself. He takes the rotting wooden board, and breaks it apart into several pieces. Building them up before he sets them alight with the fire of the lantern.

He lowers himself to sit in front of the burning wood and beckons for your hand, kissing you knuckles, raw from the cold wind of your journey as you take a seat next to him. Despite the lack of walls and roof, you are overwhelmed by Yoongi’s peace as he looks into the fire, feeling that same comfort and warmth within yourself. “I never thought I’d see this place again, but now, it feels right to return. Perhaps-” He meets your eye before expressing the rest of his tentative question. “Perhaps we could stay here for a while?”

“I would like that.” You answer with a nod, prompting him to beam back at you.

While Yoongi moves to lay on the grass relaxing in the light of the flame you pull out the new map you’ve been working on since the start of your journey east. The other still remains, not entirely forgotten, but of little use in this region. The fresh start on parchment comes as a much needed reprieve, the chance to begin again.

“You are marking this place down for me?” Yoongi asks as you draw with your quill pen.

“For us,” you correct him.

Looking down at the new point on the map now labelled with your description, he smiles at the sight of the single word you had written. “Have I fulfilled my duty to you then? Should we part ways here?” He jests pushing to rise up until you tug him back down by his long coat.

“You have,” Shaking your head at his joke, you explain your true feelings behind the word. “But if you leave, this place ceases to be so. It only exists as such when I am with you.”

“Then I must stay by your side, or risk breaking another promise?” He continues to tease you, with a twitch to the corner of his lip.

You can’t help but laugh at his attempt to conceal his eagerness. “So it would seem. How long do you think you can keep your vow?”

“For eternity.” Yoongi whispers, leaning in to kiss you over the setting ink of, ‘Home.’

...

-The End-

...

#bts smut #taehyung smut #yandere bts #yoongi smut #taehyung x reader #yoongi x reader #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #bts thriller au #bts fanfic #bts vampire au #yandere taehyung #min yoongi #kim taehyung #bts blood bounty

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byunbaekby · 4 years

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title — the following pairing — demon!haechan x female reader, slight jaemin x reader featuring — jaemin as reader’s roommate and crush word count — 6.9k genres — horror, angst warnings — language, religious concepts in accordance to demons and angels, mentions of murder, psychological and physical torture, elements of haunting, choking, degradation in a nonsexual context (donghyuck often refers to y/n as feeble or unintelligent), minor character death inspiration — monster by red velvet

“under a single light, why are there two shadows?” “i’m a little monster, be scared of me / i’ll bother you by making you only dream of me.” “see i’m just playing, no bad intentions / try to come out of the dream but monster lives forever.”

author’s message — for the #neohalloween event hosted by @nct-writers. this is my first time ever writing something of this genre, so i’m very excited and nervous to put this forward. thank you to @give-seconds for proof reading this and making it 100x better! much love ♡

also, this entire scenario is loosely generated from a superstition in hmong culture that you shouldn’t pick up anything you find laying around in public, for you might bring home something else with you.

“Y/N? Is something wrong? Why are you calling me?”

Your roommate’s voice rings clear on the opposite side of the line. Though you’re shivering as a result of the cold, barren winter air, you try to get a response past your shaking lips. “I-I’m walking home, Jaem. Can you… can you stay on the phone with me?”

“Oh.” He immediately gets it; it’s never safe for a young woman to walk home alone, especially not in your neighborhood. “Of course… Where are you?”

You turn into the shortcut, your feet meeting the soft, pliable ground. The cemetery; it’s probably the worst shortcut you could ever take, but it cuts your walk home in half. “The cemetery…”

“Again? I told you that you should stop cutting through there, it’s not safe.”

You register his words in your ear as you eye a black bird resting atop a gravestone, peering at you with bright eyes. Casting your sight away from it, your teeth bite down on your bottom lip, roseate tier captured beneath the sharp incisor. “Walking down the street at this time isn’t safe either. At least here there’s nobody else around.”

Jaemin sighs on the other side. “Even worse, anyone hanging out in a cemetery at…” He pauses, likely to glance at his watch. “10:28 PM, is probably going to be weirder than someone you find out on the street on a Friday night.”

“Hey!” You tell him, clutching your bag close to you. “I’m a person hanging out in a cemetery at 10:28 PM.”

“My point exactly.”

You roll your eyes, a laugh leaving you, but you’re glad for Jaemin’s teasing. It helps get your mind off the fact that the hill you walk past casts a dark shadow over the path. As you walk past, engulfed in what seems to be the darkest area of the entire graveyard, you attempt to make easy conversation with your roommate to get it off your mind.

“Did you eat dinner already?” You ask him, voice low as if someone were listening. Who knows, someone might be.

Jaemin easily sees through what you’re attempting to do, but he follows along anyway because he’s nice. “I did. I tried to wait for you, but you took too long.”

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “Time passed by me in the library.”

“I know. Like damn, you should really lay off the studying sometimes and have fun.”

“I know, I know. You tell me, Renjun tells me, Professor Kim even—woah!”

You drop to the floor, the air flying out of your chest and dissipating into nothingness as you fall forward onto your chest. All the contents of your bag spill out, along with your phone, which lies a few feet away on the dirt.

Groan escaping your lips, you look down at your white jeans. Completely stained and covered in dirt. Damn.

“Y/N? Hello? Y/N, you there?”

You can hear Jaemin’s muffled worried tone from where you are, but you focus on gathering your things from your bag first before you grab the phone. In the darkness of the night, you can’t even see everything, you just hope you manage to grab everything. It would definitely be your worst nightmare if you lost your Calculus homework due on Monday to the graveyard because you hadn’t grabbed it.

When you finally return everything to your bag, you press the phone to your ear. “Hey, sorry, I tripped.”

“You had me worried there! I was about to run out there myself,” nags Jaemin, and you can see in your mind the way his dark eyebrows must be furrowed in distaste.

“Sorry Jaem,” you apologize to him as you scurry down the path, ready to be free of the cemetery’s unsettling aura as soon as possible. “Please tell me you saved me some food, I’m starving...”

He feels it when you walk in. He senses the irrefutable change in the air, smells your delectable scent with his sharpness. His grave sits at the very top of the largest hill, giving him the perfect place to watch you from. The cemetery becomes alive with your entrance.

Ironic, isn’t it?

Sitting rather stylishly with his thin, gauntly body atop his gravestone, Donghyuck watches you with sharp, focused eyes. You’re so pretty. He smirks, observing the way you flutter through the graveyard, feet barely touching the ground in your feeble attempt to escape the ominous lot as soon as possible.

“Walking down the street at this time isn’t safe either. At least here there’s nobody else around.”

That’s where you’re wrong.

The dark demon can hardly keep the devilish grin off his tiers, watching you. Beautiful, you are.

He’s seen you a few times, in the handful of times you’ve dared to cut through the cemetery on your way home. With an amused, almost teasing shake of his head, he tsks. “Bad decision, little lamb.”

“Did you eat dinner already?” You ask whoever you’re speaking to on the phone. Donghyuck can barely remember what human food tastes like. As a demon, he doesn’t eat humans, let alone get hungry, but if he had a choice, you’d definitely be his first choice.

Your soul is good. He wants it.

If he can’t have you, at least he can play with you a little.

It doesn’t take much. The moment you glide through the path and under the darkness of his hill, all it takes is the slightest snap of his fingers to send you flying forward. He’d love to make you stay down there, perhaps drag you down below with him, but that would be no fun.

Rather, he plucks off one of his rings, one of the many decorating his hands for absolutely no one to see, and tosses it seamlessly into the pile of your things spilled across the path. As he watches the way you carelessly shove everything back into your bag, his Cheshire grin grows even wider. Now, he has a reason to leave.

As you scurry away, Donghyuck jumps off his grave which he had occupied for decades, and lands on his feet. With a wipe of his hands on his jeans, he watches you go.

“Stupid little lamb. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to take things that aren’t yours?”

The rest of the walk home, you can swear there are steps behind you matching yours.

When you get home, you quickly slide into your bedroom amid Jaemin’s nagging sounds and slip off your white (well, brown now) jeans from your legs. After getting on some more comfortable clothes, you grab your dirtied jeans and make your way to the bathroom.

The restroom, however small, still has room for a washer and dryer, which you’re thankful for, seeing as you and Jaemin don’t have to pay a laundromat for your weekly laundry. You toss your jeans in the washer; normally you wouldn’t wash just one garment, but the dirt would likely stain your perfectly white jeans. After pressing start you make your way to the kitchen, where your roommate is reheating dinner for you.

The image of Jaemin’s broad back standing at the stove makes you smile to yourself for just a millisecond, so quick that it’s fleeting. Before you can take another moment to admire your roommate however, he turns to you with his trademark smile. “Hey, pick a movie. Let’s watch something.”

About fifteen minutes later, you’re eating your leftovers on the couch, Jaemin’s arm spread over your shoulders while the beginning scenes of The Conjuring play. You don’t have much, the apartment barely enough for the two of you to inhabit, and Jaemin is only your roommate, but you’ve gotten used to these kinds of nights. Simple, easy, sweet.

The light remainder of Jaemin’s daily cologne mixed in with his gentle cotton scent pervades into your senses, and you lean your head onto his shoulder with a smile. You’ve always wanted to be more with Jaemin, but you could settle for these comfortable nights of movies and platonic cuddling.

It’s something about having a full belly, Jaemin’s warmth, and the everlasting light traces of his scent that has you falling asleep, eyes drooping closed slowly into a peaceful suspension of consciousness.

You wake the first morning.

You don’t even remember falling asleep, but it doesn’t surprise you when you wake up in bed. Recently you’ve developed a habit of falling asleep on movie nights, and Jaemin is always kind enough to place you gently back in your room.

Wiping the sleep from your eyes, you let out an unearthly sound as you sit up and stretch your arms above your head. When you unsheath the blanket from your legs, your unprepared toes meet the cold wooden floor, causing you to flutter across the room quickly and into the living area.

It’s Saturday, but Jaemin volunteers at the hospital on Saturdays, so you only prepare a bowl of cereal for yourself. If your roommate were here, he’d probably scold you for the lack of nutrition, so you toss a couple of berries into your frosted flakes.

After you finish up, washing your bowl at the sink, your eyes widen in realization; you left your jeans in the washer! Falling asleep mid-movie had caused you to completely forget about them, not drying them before you slept like you had told yourself. God, they probably stink by now, sitting wet for hours.

But when you slide open the door to the bathroom, you see your jeans resting atop the drying machine, folded neatly like they had been waiting for you. Perhaps they were.

Ah, you realize, mouth parting just the slightest. Jaemin must have dried them and folded them before he left for the hospital this morning. Another grateful smile spreads across your visage; you really do have the best roommate.

You spend the rest of the day studying, and prepare a nice dinner (which also means going grocery shopping) for Jaemin, as a little thank you for always being so thoughtful. He appreciates it when he comes home to a fully cooked meal, and there’s something about the way he smiles that has you feeling as though you’ve finally done something good to amount to all the times he’s saved your ass as a roommate. When the night ends, you both retire to your rooms.

In your lovesick daze, you fail to recognize that under the single lighting of your room, there are two shadows.

VII.

On the seventh day, Donghyuck’s displeasure is enough to choke him—that is, if he needed to breathe.

He had wanted to tease you, follow you home and play with you a little before revealing himself. But God, you are so dumb; he should have expected as much from a feeble, stupid little sheep anyways.

That first night, testing the waters, he had done your damn laundry for you. It was just a little fun, to get the ball rolling. Any superstitious person would have known. And what did you do? You had thought it to be your roommate. As the days went by, his teasing grew in quantity and intensity; hiding your keys, ripping apart your essays, perhaps all the menial and annoying things that some stupid schoolboy would do to grab the attention of a girl he liked. But your attention is lost, and he is not a stupid schoolboy. No, he is far from it.

Even as his antics have built up throughout the following days, you always found some excuse to play it off; you must be more clever than he thought. No, you weren’t; you were either extremely clumsy and forgetful, or you were simply denying his existence. It’s time to make himself known.

VIII.

It’s the eighth night when he appears in your dreams. No, not he. It.

You can sense it, the moment your suspension of consciousness becomes overtaken by him and you find yourself in a simple black room. It seems to extend in every which direction, as though you could run off in any given direction and never hit a wall. But you feel it watching you.

He’s behind your shoulder, and the moment his low, amused chuckle is heard in your ears you swipe around to face him, eyes wide. He’s beautiful; dark brown hair, smooth skin, a captivating honey color, and dark eyes.

Those eyes.

They pierce into your soul, as though they can see right through you. They probably can. He is not a person, you know. He is… more.

Dark eyes once overtaken with curiosity are now characterized by bleak amusement. Your breath hitches, and his voice comes out low. “Welcome.”

“What is this? Where am I?” Your voice comes out rapidly, shaking. You know nothing of this… thing before you but you can’t help but feel unsafe under its gaze.

“Now, that’s not very nice. I am very much a person, not an it,” he smirks beneath the shadow which casts itself upon his visage. You freeze; he can hear your thoughts.

This realization only further widens the Cheshire grin across his lips, and instinctively you take a step back further into the black nothingness. “G-Get out of my head,” you threaten to no avail.

The same mocking laugh leaves his lips. “Sweetheart, this is your head. This entire place is of your making. If you hate it so much,” he says, and suddenly he’s in front of you. His hand leaves the pockets of his black bottoms, lithe digits suddenly cupping your chin and tilting it upward so you are staring right into his dark empty orbs which come to life with the image of you. His fingers, dressed in various shades of gold rings, grip you. You should feel his warmth on your skin, you should feel the radiating human heat that you so often feel with Jaemin.

“Erase me from it.”

But you don’t feel anything behind his callused skin, and that’s what scares you the most.

Your throat runs dry and when he parts his lips, even his breath is cold. “But you’re scared.” When you fail to respond, he licks his lips, and his next words are characterized by sarcastic rancor. “What’s wrong? There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Unless…” At this point, under his burning gaze that contrasts the ice-cold emptiness against your skin, your knees begin to buckle. The smile which accompanies his next words, revealing his pearly whites and perhaps his intentions, is sinister: “You’re not afraid of demons… are you?”

IX.

You wake in a cold sweat, and you’re more aware of Jaemin’s soothing voice telling you to breathe than the fact that you’re not breathing. Chest heaving and eyes wide, you search for something in Jaemin’s eyes to tether you back to earth, back to reality.

He’s not real, he’s not real. He can’t hurt you.

It was just a dream.

“Hey, hey,” Jaemin calls out to you, hands on your shoulders to steady you from your previous thrashing. You had awoken him with your screaming. “You okay? Breathe, Y/N, just,” he takes a pause to take a deep breath, silently instructing you to follow with him. “Breathe.” In a few moments, when your breathing pattern has begun to return to normal, steady breaths, he asks again, voice dripping with nothing but pure concern for you, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod. It’s the first word you’ve spoken, so your voice comes out scratched and you’re reminded just how much air you need to actually speak coherently. “It was just… a bad dream.”

“Sounded a lot worse than a bad dream…” He responds, taking his respectful hands off of you and tucking them into the loose pockets of his fleece pajama bottoms. An image flashes before your eyes: that… person, hands tucked leisurely into their pockets, ominous smile enough to make you wonder what they were hiding in there.

You blink, closing your eyes tightly and shaking your head, as though it could shake the image from your mind. When you open them once more, Jaemin is still standing next to your bed. “I’m okay, I promise,” you tell him, though it feels more as though you’re speaking to yourself. “Thanks.”

“Any time,” responds your roommate, who offers you a reassuring smile and another worried look before slipping out of your bedroom. When you’re finally alone, you bring a hand up to your forehead, where sweat has made your skin clammy and sticky.

You’re warm. He is not.

XII.

“You’re a demon.”

You say this on the twelfth night, finding yourself once again stranded in the same dark and endless room with the sharp-eyed devil. This time, there are two chairs and the two of you sit facing each other. He sits as though he has all the time in the world, and perhaps he does. Legs crossed leisurely and arms over his chest with his head tilted at you, he stares.

With your tense posture in your own chair, you wonder fleetingly how enough light exists in this black room that you can never seem to avoid staring at his mocking facial expression. You gulp, gripping onto nothing as you tighten your fists to prevent them from trembling. He’s not real, you have to remind yourself.

“When did you figure that out, little lamb? When I told you, probably?” His tone is insulting, as though you were stupid. You narrow your eyes, biting the flesh inside your cheek.

“Aw,” he coos, grinning at you with dark beguilement. “You’re frustrated.”

“Duh, I’m frustrated,” you huff, blowing some air from your mouth to push away a strand of hair that has fallen into your face. “You keep bringing me here with no jurisdiction or knowledge of who you are.”

“Fine,” he acquiesces. “Three questions. Don’t make them stupid, though I know that’s hard for an incompetent human like yourself.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I haven’t quite figured that out yet. Next question. I’ll even be nice enough to abstain that as a question,” he responds, as though he’s doing you a favor.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Being a demon is rather boring, you see. Not here, not there.” He waves his hand around, as though pointing to heaven and its counterpart. “I found you, and you intrigued me.”

He leans forward, resting his chin in his palm. “Or rather, you found me. You invited me in.”

“I never did that,” you reply, indignant.

“But you did.” A dark eyebrow raises at you, and you bite down on your lip to prevent your anger from rising. “You never checked your bag, did you? Never found a gold ring, maybe?” He lifts his chin off of his palm, stretching out his fingers as though they were cramped. “Maybe one with DH engraved in it.”

You had. You had found the ring in your bag on Saturday and had figured it to be one of your own negligible accessories, tossing it into your jewelry box. Had there been letters engraved on it?

At the look on your face, a smile spreads across his features. “So you do remember.”

Despite the umbrage bubbling in your stomach, perhaps more feisty than you should be in the presence of a self-proclaimed demon, you have another question. Leaning forward just the slightest you ask, “Why haven’t you hurt me? Isn’t that what demons do?”

There’s a glint in his eye, and the easy-going expression on his face is quickly replaced by a darkened simper. “Do you want me to hurt you?”

Your fists tighten again. “N-No…”

“Don’t tempt me.” His voice is dark now, his earlier lilted tone now descending into a deep pit. It’s almost demanding, as though he’s daring you to push his buttons and send him plummeting into a torturous rage. At the look of fear that swipes across your face, he chuckles once more. “Relax, little lamb. I’m just playing, no bad intentions here.”

You don’t believe him, not even for a second. If he’s really what he says he is… why does he torture you in this way, making you only dream of him? You push the thoughts from your mind, knowing that he has full access to your brain. “What’s your name?”

“Now you’re asking the good questions. You may call me…”

The corner of his lips tug upward into a smirk.

“Donghyuck.”

XIII.

The titles should shock you more than they do.

University Student Pleads Guilty to Murder of Three Female Students

College Killer: More Murders Revealed In Trial of Lee Donghyuck

Lee Donghyuck, Murderer of At Least Thirteen Victims, Sentenced To Death Penalty

He’s real.

It’s Friday night again, and you find yourself back at the library. Except this time, it’s not calculus nor world history that you are pondering. It’s not your psychology textbook that you are poured over.

No, the archives are open, and all it took was a little keyword into the filter to find just what you’re searching for. The only word you needed: Donghyuck.

He hadn’t been lying. Not about his identity or his demonic status.

When you read over the headlines and their accompanying stories, you don’t realize the way your pupils begin to shake, or the way that your heartbeat begins to accelerate as the truth dawns upon you.

He is real, he is dangerous, and he is haunting you.

XIV.

“So you know who I am.” It’s less of a question, more of a statement. Tonight, there is only one chair and you are sitting in it as Donghyuck walks circles around you. There are no chains, no straps to hold you down to the chair but you cannot move. Despite what he had told you the first night, that this is all your dream and that you have the ability to change anything, the opposite seems true.

He disappears behind you, and suddenly his voice is in your ear. Your breath hitches at the sudden gust of cold air on your sensitive skin as he speaks. “Are you afraid?”

“No.”

“You forget I’m in your head, sweetheart. I know everything, so don’t lie to me.”

He’s caught you.

You say nothing, and so he stands straight and makes himself present in your vision again. “It’s okay to be scared. It’s in your feeble nature.” His finger starts at your hand, bringing a chill down your spine. As he drags it slowly up the scope of your exposed arm, you hardly resist the instinct to shiver. “I just want to know, what are you afraid of?”

“Is it…” he speaks softly, teasingly throwing each word in your ear, like tossing small bites to a starved dog. “That I know each of your thoughts the moment you think it, and you only know my name? That I’m a dark spirit and can bring you enough pain to make you forget your name with just a snap of my fingers?”

His trailing hand, once tracing over the curve of your clavicle, suddenly grips your neck. Though only a light pressure is applied, you feel the wind knocked out of you by his sudden, unforeseen movement. “Or is it that because of me, sixteen women died and you might end up the same?”

With the little air you have left, you manage to squeeze out, “They said thirteen.”

Amusement shows on his visage before he finally lets your throat go, and you heave as you attempt to refill your lungs with air. “No,” he corrects, moving back to his original space, circling you like a shark locking its prey in uncharted waters. “They said at least thirteen. They never found the other three.”

The thought is enough to make you sick, but before you can manage to swallow down the bile attempting to rise up your throat, he speaks. “Don’t worry about them too much, my little lamb. You’ll join them soon.”

“You’re lying,” you spit out. “You keep threatening me, but you’re all talk and no proof. You can’t do anything to me, that’s why you only bother me in my dreams.”

Your sudden and unexpected quip seems to, rather than upset him, entertain him. “You think I can’t do anything to you outside of this box? Funny,” he scoffs, though he still maintains that grin on his lips. “Humans are so cocky, I learned that after they killed me.”

He stops pacing, and instead kneels before you, his face placed before yours. “I’ve done things, sweetheart. Remember the pants? The essay you spent five hours on torn up the morning after you printed it out? How about the dress you bought that I cut up until there was nothing left but shreds? You got really mad at your friend for quote-unquote, ‘pranking’ you.”

But Donghyuck is nothing if not honest. You’ve learned this.

“But on some level, you’re right.” His hand reaches up once more, but instead of resting it on your shoulder again, he gently caresses your cheek. It would be soft, romantic in any other case. But no, his touch makes your skin crawl. “I can’t hurt you, and I don’t know why. Don’t worry, I want to, but outside this dream…” His hand stops, and grips your chin instead. “I physically can’t. Tell me why?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“You have a cross on you somewhere, little lamb? Or, a guardian angel?”

“I said I don’t know,” you repeat, voice louder as you turn your head sharply, ripping your chin from his grasp. In your ear, he tsks.

Now you’ve done it.

“Getting too comfortable, aren’t we? You’re forgetting who’s in charge here,” he says, voice dipping into dangerous territory as he reaches forward, gripping your throat once more. But this time, he digs his nails into the softness of your skin, and your choked scream is caught in your throat by his hands before it can ever leave.

“Y/N! Y/N, wake up!”

Jaemin’s voice is the only thing carrying you back to sanity, and when you finally force your eyes open he’s before you, gripping your arms once again to prevent you from thrashing about. “It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream,” he coos out in worry as you finally come to.

Your hand immediately flies to your neck which is, to your relief, not at all sore. The moment your eyes fall on him and you realize that the hand around your neck is no more, you fall into a bout of tears. Instinctively, your roommate holds you to his chest in a protective hug whilst you sob into his chest.

It’s not real, it’s not real. You keep telling yourself this like a mantra in your head as Jaemin rubs your head soothingly. But why does it feel so real?

“It’s okay,” Jaemin continues telling you, voice soft as his sweet familiar scent pervades your senses once again and your tense muscles begin to relax.

Minutes pass before you’ve calmed down, outright sobs now quiet whimpers. Jaemin begins to set you down back into bed, but you grab at his wrist before he can set you down. “What, what is it?” He asks, eyes immediately scanning your body for any sign of distress.

“Can you… can you stay with me?” It’s a large request, perhaps much too intrusive for someone who is supposed to just be your roommate. But lately, Jaemin feels… much more. Every night as you’ve been plagued by Donghyuck’s presence in your haunting nightmares, he has come to save you when you’re falling apart in screams.

He feels like a friend, and a… a protector.

Not at all fazed by your sudden request, Jaemin wears an abiding smile and nods. “Of course,” he says, sliding into your bed whilst you move over to make room for him. You feel much safer with him around, and now with him in your bed, your personal dreamcatcher, you naturally find yourself in his arms once more while you drift away into sleep, Donghyuck’s presence no longer occupying your dreams.

Neither of you take the time or attention to look, for if you had you would have seen, in the corner of the room furthest from the window, where the darkened corner seems to extend into an infinite world of black, Donghyuck looking less than pleased.

Your roommate needs to be handled.

XXI.

Something seemed to have changed that night when Jaemin first slipped into your bed. You have since not dreamed of Donghyuck even once, and you definitely do not miss him. Perhaps he is gone for good.

How stupid of you to think so, even knowing what Donghyuck is capable of. Perhaps you never truly knew, not before now, just how powerful he is, or just what kind of chaos he can incite.

It’s 3 PM on the twenty-first day when you finally find out just how evil he is.

Jaemin is in the hospital.

You had gotten the call on the bus ride home from campus; your roommate, jokes and boyish smiles for all the time you’ve known him, had been hit by a car just outside your apartment building. Now, he is in the hospital with broken ribs and a herniated disk, barely holding on for his life in a coma.

You’re not allowed in his room, but you do catch a glimpse of your roommate when his physician enters, and just the sliver of him that you see is enough to make you turn your head away.

You know who is responsible for this.

The door to your bedroom is thrown open, and before you can recognize the emptiness of the apartment without Jaemin’s presence around, you’re screaming into the void.

“I know you’re listening, you dick! Show yourself, fucking coward!”

The obscenities that leave your mouth seem to do the trick because before you can register it, you’re on the floor. As though the carpet is pulled out from under you, you go flying forward and the wind is knocked out of you as you meet the ground chest first.

You don’t have any time to breathe or recover, as immediately there is a force pulling you up by the shirt, and suddenly you’re no longer standing on the ground.

You see him.

You’ve seen him before, of course. He’s appeared in your dreams enough to have his sinister expression sewed in your thoughts at all hours of the day. But now… now he looks stronger. Less pale and more colorful. Even the aura which exudes from him… is more dangerous than ever.

Yet, he still wears that shit-eating smile on his lips as he watches you float in the air, collar squeezing at your throat and looking completely powerless. “Now, little lamb, those are not very nice words,” Donghyuck chastises as he approaches you. When he’s finally before you once more, he twitches his eyebrow upward just the slightest. “Missed me?”

“Not at all,” you manage, gathering the spit in your mouth to chuck it out at him.

Not even fazed, he simply wipes at the spit on his face, flicking it off in a negligible direction. “I’m not feeling welcomed,” he comments.

“Because you’re not,” you retort, thrashing about to no avail. “What did you do to Jaemin?”

The mention of your now critical roommate only makes his grin grow wider. “You see, sweetheart, I thought you’d be pretty proud of me. I found out what was keeping me from being able to inflict any real damage on you,” he says whilst his cold hand comes out to squeeze at your cheeks. “Your guardian angel has been taken care of.”

Wait, what? Then it dawns on you.

Jaemin is… your guardian angel.

“You look surprised. That’s okay, I didn’t know either.” Donghyuck releases your face, instead choosing to pace left and right before you, though he never lets his eyes leave you. “But then he started sleeping with you, and I couldn’t get into your mind. I put two and two together. With him around, I’d never be able to touch you.”

The glint in his eyes turns feral. “And you have an embarrassing school girl crush on him, so I was able to kill two birds with one stone. With every second that passes, his life is draining away, and I’m only getting stronger.”

“Why are you doing this?” You cry out once again, though your voice is more desperate than it had been the first time around. “What do you want?”

“You see, I figured that out too.” His mocking tone begins to seep away and is instead replaced by that familiar dark timbre of his as he approaches you once more, gripping your chin again in his fingers. Tilting your head up harshly, he stares endlessly into you and whispers, “I thought I was done with those petty murders, that the sight of women begging at my knees like dirt for mercy wouldn’t excite me as much anymore. But no… I want you to suffer. I want to destroy you, take away your happiness, and break you piece by piece, until you’re just begging for me to take you out of your misery.” The semblance of a smirk quirks at his lips. “Just like those other girls. Except this time, there’s no limit to what I can do. And when you do die, I’ll be right here to welcome you back.”

Tears sting your eyes at the horrible things he whispers to you, but you refuse to capitulate to him. “I’d rather die than do anything you say.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be dead just as soon. The fun hasn’t even started yet,” he teases. Suddenly, it’s as if the paranormal restraints on your limbs are cut free, as your body immediately falls to the floor, collecting in a pile. You hardly have the energy to lift your head, but you register the sound of Donghyuck’s voice as he walks away from you. “Rest up tonight, little lamb. You’ve got a long eternity ahead of you.”

Then he’s gone. You swear you will make use of the last twelve hours of your life.

First, you visit Jaemin again. You know you’re not allowed in, but you know his room number and there’s no one coming in to check up on him, you hope.

You don’t know if he really is your guardian angel, but above that, he is your friend.

“Hey,” you say softly, making your presence known as you sit down in the chair beside his hospital bed. It’s arbitrary… you know Jaemin doesn’t have parents around, and perhaps that only lends to the possibility that he really is someone sent here to protect you.

“How are you?” You scoff at yourself. “That’s stupid of me to ask, you’re in a coma. I don’t know if you can hear me, or if you really are an angel, but thank you, Jaemin. For always… always being there for me, protecting me. Walking me through the cemetery, making dinner for me, chasing my nightmares away.”

Sitting there, staring at your friend’s lifeless body laying on the bed looking gray as a sheet, tears begin to sting your eyes. “I’m sorry for bringing you into this, I should have listened to you when you told me to be careful. And if I have to lose someone as amazing and… pure-hearted as you, I don’t think I can live with myself. So please, even if you don’t make it out of here, please… stay by my side.”

As your first tear breaks the barrier and begins to coast down your cheek, you reach out and grab his hand. It’s cold.

XXII.

It’s a little past midnight and though your fingers shake from the cold, you throw everything of yours that he’s touched into the bucket.

Even the things you weren’t completely sure of, you toss away anything that could have been influenced by his dark magic; the leftover shreds of your essay that you had recovered from the recycle, the pieces of fabric that he had obliterated your dress to, the white jeans you had worn that first night, and more. Finally, you throw in that godforsaken ring that had started it all.

You swore that you would never return to the cemetery again, but here you are. This time, you really can see everything at the top of the hill. You turn your head back to glower at the tombstone before you.

Lee Donghyuck.

What a piece of shit.

Though your fingers shake, you light the match without trouble. When you toss it into the basket of forsaken belongings, it is only a matter of seconds before Donghyuck appears, tethered to his tombstone once more.

Gripping at his body, he snarls out at you, “What the hell are you doing?”

That, you hardly even know. Following only the speculations found on the internet, you had unknowingly lured your monstrous demon back to his home.

It seems to work, as the greater the fire grows, the more pained Donghyuck’s expression seems to become.

Your voice finds its strength as you announce your intentions. “Erasing you.”

“You can’t do that to me, you don’t get to win!” Donghyuck yells in growing anger, reaching out to you but failing. With this inability of his to touch you, you tilt your chin higher, the orange tint of the flames reflecting off your strengthened pride.

“I believed you all this time, I let you scare me into thinking that you could overpower me. That you could hurt me,” you muse, staring without remorse at his pained form. “But I was wrong. You only exist as long as I let you. You can only hurt me as long as I believe you can.”

“I’ll be back,” declares Donghyuck as the fire roars, only sending him further into a realm of pain. Whilst he grips his limbs in pure fury, you shake your head.

“No, you won’t. Because you were right, this is my world. I’m the one with the power here: I have blood flowing through me, I have oxygen in my lungs, and I have a soul. You have none of those.” With your anger bursting at the seams, you kick over the metal bucket burning from the inside, instead tossing the trash over the dirt of Donghyuck’s grave. “And because of that, I’m not scared of you.”

As the fire burns out at the final thread, and the spirit which had infested your mind for twenty-two days begins to fade away in a fit of rage, you offer him the same powerful, mocking smile he had tattooed into your mind.

“Goodbye, Donghyuck. Rest in hell.”

CCCLXV.

“Hey, did you do the notes from the last lecture?”

Flipping through your binder, you nod and pull out the said notes, handing them over to the student sitting next to you. At this point, you’ve learned enough about her to know that on Mondays, she always asks for the notes. You’ve started printing extra copies for her.

It’s been a year.

You had taken a year off of university to return home. After everything that had happened and Jaemin’s death, you simply couldn’t bear to even step into your old apartment anymore. Over time, you’ve found that you’ve healed and you are no longer afraid.

Not afraid to return to school, at least.

“Here you go,” you tell her as you hand over the notes. “You can keep that copy.”

The look she wears is grateful. “Thanks!”

“Hey,” calls a voice on your right. “Do you have a pen?”

“Sure, I—” You start, reaching into your pencil bag, but stop when your gaze falls upon the owner of the voice.

No, it can’t be. It just can’t.

Before you is Donghyuck. Except it’s not. He’s… different.

His hair is no longer brown, but rather a light shade of blonde that accentuates his honey olive skin tone. Rather than all black, he is dressed in a cream-colored sweater and a pair of light washed ripped jeans. Most strikingly of all, his signature sharp eyes are no longer clouded by dark evil, but are light with the sweet smile that he wears on his lips.

No… it’s not Donghyuck. After your return home, you had begun to see his face everywhere, and have since learned to distinguish between reality and trauma. When the stranger catches you staring, he tilts his head, smile growing further. “I’m Haechan.”

Shaking your head slightly to clear the thoughts, you go back to searching for a pen in your bag. “Uh, hi Haechan. Here you go,” you say as you hand the pen over to him.

When your fingers brush just the slightest, he’s cold.

You pull your hand back quickly, as though you had been burned. No, you tell yourself. It’s cold in here, the air conditioning is always on in the lecture hall. Turning back to face forward in your seat, you try to calm your breathing, pulling your cardigan closer to cover you. The stranger next to you pulls out a notebook from his bag, and in full view, begins to write in the corner.

Your professor is speaking, clicking on his projector, when Haechan slides his notebook over to you. There, written in perfect handwriting…

I told you I’d be back.

#NCT-WRITERS #neowritingsnet #dreamwritersnet #mlznet #neothestars #haechan angst #haechan fanfic #haechan scenarios #nct angst #haechan x reader #nct fanfic #haechan horror #neohalloween

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bokutoslittlebird · 3 years

Text

As The Sun Sets

King!Oikawa x assassin!prisonser!reader

Warnings — implied noncon, implied smut, trauma and traumatic pasts, Bokuto’s back, Kuroo x Alisa ship, Ushijima x Yachi ship, chains, collar, leash, not pet play, I wrote this and haven’t looked over it since I wrote it so read at your own risk, implied past abuse, alcohol (champagne), arguments, cheating.. kind of

The loud noises around you never stopped; the switching of guards at every 6th hour, the occasional thief thrown into a cell near you and leaving within the same day after Kyōtani disciplined them, it never stopped. Each and every day, you’d sit down in the cell and wish Oikawa would instead cut off your arms and legs instead of his harsh touches and never ending conversation. Time had passed to the point, you weren’t sure if your own kingdom was waiting for your arrival back home, perhaps Bokuto actually spent time with his own queen.

Your thoughts were cut off by the familiar click of heels on the marble stairs. The time of arrival of Oikawa was sooner than expected, your dead eyes looking up to meet his bright and cheery ones. “How’s my favorite captive?”

“You seem awfully chipper. Is it time for my daily lashings?”

“Someone’s masochistic,” he shoots back, his grin turning to a smirk, before it washes off. “No lashings tonight.. if you’re good. I have a special dinner planned and you’ll be accompanying me as a plus one. It’s just me and my court, no one special,” he’s cut off by Hanamaki slapping his shoulder. “Okay, mostly nobody special. Just a dinner and then we can explore the castle. If you’re bad, however,”

“I’m sure Iwaizumi and Hanamaki would have me dead before I dared to lay a hand upon your precious skin,” you quickly reply. Oikawa seems to smile at that, enjoying your awareness of the situation. “That or I’ll be forced back into my place with an audience, which is it?”

“I’d rather have your blood staining my garments and splattered on my dish than have anyone have a glance of your skin, my darling,”

“That’s gross,” Hanamaki cuts in. Oikawa gives him a look, but he just shrugs. “I’m sorry, but you’re kind of weird. Do I need Iwaizumi to smack some sense into your head?”

“Can he even handle a smack from Iwaizumi? That guys had biceps the size of my head,” you interject, reveling in the pout on Oikawa’s face.

“If he holds back, yeah Oikawa can handle it. Then again—”

“Both of you, quit it! Formal invitation to a dinner with me, I’ll pick you up before the dinner. And Makki,”

“Yes, my king?”

“No cream puffs for you!”

“Now you’re just being mean.”

Oikawa and Hanamaki left right after, but their retreating footsteps made your chest ache. It’s better to be with someone, even if it’s the people you hate, you conclude. Hanamaki makes you laugh occasionally, usually with his quick retorts to Oikawa. Even when Kindaichi comes down, he’s actually talking to you when he delivers your food. Kunimi disapproves of it, but he doesn’t do anything. Kyōtani and Yahaba are still distant, but that’s expected when they have a stick up their asses. Matsukawa and Iwaizumi are hardly down here, but Iwaizumi is usually accompanying Oikawa for his late night activities. He never looks at you, turning to stare at the other side of the dungeon or leaving the dungeon completely while you suffer. Although he left the dungeons in the beginning, now he mostly stayed back to stare at the wall.

You wonder if it’s because his moral compass wants to help you. Oikawa invited him to join, but it was quickly turned down, claiming there was no joy in torturing prisoners more than necessary. Although he was always there and never talked to you, he was close to Oikawa. He didn’t stay down in the cells to hear your screams, but his hand on his sword said he was ready to move had Oikawa’s screams joined yours. Your restraints prevented your hands from doing damage, but he’s well aware your legs and mouth are able to do a bit of damage.

Laying in the cell, you watched as the guards switched. Kunimi and Yahaba were switched to Kindaichi and Kyōtani, complete opposites. Kyōtani was more animalistic than you originally thought, going off instincts first and he had sensitive hearing, eyes glancing to your form whenever you shifted. Kindaichi was there to make sure Kyōtani didn’t do anything he’d regret, that’s all. But you wouldn’t make any unnecessary movements.

Though the wait eats you up inside.

It is what feel like hours before the Oikawa comes down, the sun lowering itself in the sky as orange rays lay across your face. Oikawa clears his throat, disturbing your peaceful nap. “Time to get dressed. Hope you can walk.” Two handmaidens enter the cell, one holding a gorgeous aqua blue dress and the other holding silver accessories. Hanamaki is down there with him, ready to attack should you make a move. The diamond shackles come off, you releasing a sigh once your wrists are freed from the heavy confines.

Oikawa doesn’t seem scared, even as he stands beside you while his handmaidens strip you and dress you up. Your wrists ache and your legs are unstable, finding the lack of shoes to be a blessing in this state. The blue gown is not too elegant, but it’s strange to be in such a formal gown when your position in the kingdom is below a commoner. Silver accents line the bodice and litter the skirt, with some being simple sparkles while others shape into different flowers. Fabric is simple, mostly tulle as it feels lightweight and easy for your weakened body to handle. Oikawa himself places the remaining silver accessories to complete the outfit — the chains. Shackles are clasped to your wrists, leading to a silver collar that is secured into place. There’s another chain leading from the collar, but the end of it is a sapphire gem, secured in a diamond crystal. Extravagant and unnecessary, but Oikawa drops the crystal and you fall down with it, unable to hold your body weight up.

“Fantastic, everything’s in order,” he says. You growl as you try to get up, but the crystal keeps you from going too far. Oikawa picks it up and gently ushers you out of the cell, dismissing the handmaidens. He walks beside you, making sure you’re able to walk comfortably, with Hanamaki trailing behind. Supporting your weight as he guides you up the stairs and lets you go at your own pace. The cold marble on your bare feet is almost burning, but the ache in your legs is from not using them for so long. The chains don’t help, adding weight to your body while Oikawa holds the end of the metal leash in his hand. It’s a struggle to get up the stairs.

Making it above the dungeons, you’re practically hissing at the brightly lit corridor. Every nook and cranny is well lit, with soldiers standing guard few in between. One soldier gets your attention, however, who has a familiar frown you’re usually only blessed to see under glimmering crystal light. Iwaizumi comes over and nods, sending Hanamaki away and down the corridor, leaving the three of you alone. “I’m sure you remember Iwa-chan,”

“Yeah, he’s always down with you. I remember him,”

“Well, this time, you’re seeing him in a new light. He’s my guard and my best friend, so enjoy the new side of him while you can,” Oikawa speaks as if he’s talking to an old friend, waving his hands around as he leads you down the corridor. The aqua colored curtains and silver items seem to bring more light into the castle than before, even as the sun takes its final breath over the horizon and plunges the world into darkness. “You should take this opportunity to ask questions, my dear,”

“Iwaizumi, will you kill me?”

��Not unless Oikawa commands it,” he’s quick to reply, as if he was expecting it. You sigh and shrug.

“Okay, fair. Why do you stick with Oikawa?”

“We grew up together. Our fathers were friends, so it was only common sense for us to be so close. I’ve seen him in every kind of situation you can imagine. He’s usually crying over a girl, though,”

“Iwa-chan! You can’t be mean to me when we have a guest!” Oikawa immediately whines, covering your ears as if you can’t hear them still. “I’m the king, I don’t cry!”

“No offense, my Lord, but you cried when you tried to drink coffee in front of Lady Kiyoko, only to then sputter and cough because it was too bitter. She downed hers black and you requested hot chocolate. With extra milk.”

“Iwa-chan!”

“Oh, we starting early?” Another familiar voice spoke. Oikawa’s hands fell from your ears and you looked at Matsukawa. He’s as tall and imposing as the day he caught you running from the throne room. “Nice to see you’re still thriving. How are you?”

“I’d be better if I wasn’t caught by a horse,” you smirk, moving to cross your arms when the chains clink and stop you. “Suffering by the hands of your king, but still alive,”

“I’m sorry, but that’s a precaution,” he finishes, patting your cheek before turning to Oikawa. You have half a mind to try and punch him but Iwaizumi’s hand falls on your shoulder. “Everyone else is seated, my Lord. Is there anything you request?”

“Have Watari sitting next to [Y/N]. She should be close to someone nice,” Oikawa commands. The doors open after he speaks, Matsukawa holding the door open as he urges the group inside. Oikawa tugs you forward, with Iwaizumi following right behind you. Watari stands from his chair, bowing to you in a brisk meeting before pulling out your chair.

“Oh, thank you, Watari,” you bow to him. Oikawa seems to have his eyes fixated on you as you settle into the table. Looking around, you seem to notice how everyone seems stunned by your arrival, but their eyes seem to be trailed to the chains and collar.

Oikawa settles down next to you, clearing his throat. Holding up his glass, full of a shimmering golden liquid, he encourages everyone to do the same. The chains clink together, but you manage a weak hold on the glass, getting Oikawa to smile. “Tonight, let us toast to those who have lost their lives and those who have joined us. With that, we shall discuss the topic of the evening: the impending threat from Nekoma and Fukurōdani.”

“Eh?” You squeak out, drowned out in the cheers from the men around you. Oikawa gently clinks his glass against yours, putting your hand down after. You lean closer to him to whisper in his ear, “should I leave? This shouldn’t involve me,”

“Oh, don’t worry. Any news spoken of will never reach their walls. You’re stuck with me,” he chirps, patting your head before turning to Iwaizumi. “Any updates, Captain?”

“A group of ten went into the forest and only two came back. They’re being treated for trauma, but they won’t speak of much besides the ‘monsters in the forest’ and ‘they’re gonna die soon’, so we don’t have much.”

“I didn’t know Oikawa’s face was in the Dark Forest. Guess Lady Kiyoko showed it around town,” Matsukawa snickers at Hanamaki’s comment, who is grinning at a glaring Oikawa. “Speaking the truth, my liege,”

“We should decree a law where you don’t say the truth unless asked, Makki. You’re much to comfortable with loose lips,”

“Well, then who’s going to tell you you’re being weird or annoying? Matsukawa, would you?” He turns to the man sitting next to him, who has a large piece of meat stuffed in his mouth. He bites down and drops it, in a rather inelegant manner.

“I could never come up with good things like you. How ever would the castle live in Oikawa was unrestrained in his rule, never to be stopped?” He dramatically sighs, an eye opened to glance at a fuming Oikawa.

“You make me sound like a tyrant! I’m a good king! [Y/N], am I a good king?” With eyes on you, you pause in your eating of the mashed potatoes. Looking at him with no emotion whatsoever, you reply.

“You tie me up and force me in chains. Do you really want my opinion? If you’re looking to a prisoner to be on your side, I have a feeling you’re below a-” yet you stop, seeing Iwaizumi’s eyes boring into yours. “Below a tyrant, but not quite the kings I’ve come across.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he nods, sitting back down. “Anyways, Nekoma and Fukurōdani will be hard pressed to reach if we can’t bypass the Dark Forest,”

“Kuroo and Bokuto.. they’re strong, but are they smart enough to know we’re infiltrating?” Yahaba asks, downing the last of his champagne.

“We could ask Ushiwaka,” Matsukawa suggests, but it’s quickly overruled by Oikawa’s firm ‘no’. “With all due respect, you’re allies with Shiratorizawa. Use it to your advantage?”

“Ushiwaka bested Oikawa’s army and they signed a treaty to be allies so Aoba Johsai wouldn’t fall,” Kunimi interjects. “Why would Oikawa-sama want to call on him for help?”

“Because we keep losing soldiers? Let’s have the Shiratorizawa soldiers die at the hands of forest ‘monsters’ instead of our own,” Matsukawa said as if it was obvious. The talk of the allegiance between the kingdoms was good news. News you could take and run with. Not only that, Oikawa confirmed that he is looking to go to Fukurōdani and is going into the Dark Forest. This is vital information.

Now only if you could leave.

The bitterness of those words evaporates your appetite, you setting your cutlery down as you stare at the unfinished food. It’s the first real food you’ve gotten since coming here, yet you no longer want it. Oikawa seems to notice you’ve stopped eating, ignoring the remarks from his court as he scoots his chair back. The action has you turning to him, only to have your body moving into his lap as you squeak. Your noises have attention on you as Oikawa cages you in his arms. “You need to eat, you know,”

“I’m.. I’m not hungry,”

“Lies. Your stomach is growling,” he puts potatoes on his spoon and holds it up. “Say ‘ah’.”

“I’m not a—” he shoves the spoon in your mouth, humming in satisfaction as his hand holds over your mouth. If you had an ounce of common sense, you’d swallow and not spit. Risking a beating or worse over eating isn’t worth it.

“Good girl, look at you,” he coos, giving you another spoonful. “Eating so much,”

“He got weirder,” Hanamaki chimes in. “Remember you have an audience, Oikawa,”

“Makki, hush. She’s enjoying it, aren’t you?” You don’t respond, simply looking at him. “That look says yes,”

“Actually, how-” he cuts you off with more food in your mouth. He seems so happy, stuffing your face with food. It’s almost the only thing you’re focusing on, had it not been for the chains and the men talking around you.

Matsukawa’s voice, once more, catches your attention. “Wish that was you, huh? Need someone taking care of our big, strong captain?” He makes a heart with his fingers, with Hanamaki doing the same beside him.

“As if. If anything, Oikawa needs to be fed properly because he’s always off doing something weird,” Iwaizumi retorts. His eyes occasionally glance at the two of you, his eyes catching yours.

“Oh yeah, earlier Oikawa was fixing his hair in the mirror before going down to the dungeons. Making strange poses, like this,” Hanamaki tries to demonstrate, puckering his lips and winking while pointing at you. You giggle at his pose, although Oikawa seems to be fuming. “Or like this,” he winks and holds up a peace sign, putting the other hand on his hip. “It’s quite disturbing, actually.”

“Oh, did he do the kissy face?” Matsukawa then winks and blows a kiss to you, who’s now fully laughing at their actions while Oikawa puts his face in your hair.

“I don’t do weird poses! I have to make sure I look elegant and kingly!”

“You act like a woman who’s never seen themself in a mirror, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi interjects. Oikawa then pouts, but you pat his arm. He seems hopeful when you do, but his eyes fall as you grin at him.

“You always look at yourself in the diamond bars, too. You love yourself that much? Narcissistic king,” you snicker. Oikawa’s jaw drops as Hanamaki and Matsukawa start to howl, as if you said the funniest thing ever. Iwaizumi sports a small smile, but he hides it by chewing on his food.

“Well, someone’s comfortable,” Oikawa pouts, but he keeps you on his lap. You’re no longer being fed by his hand, but he does take care to check if you’re still eating.

The dinner is mostly uneventful after that, turning into a mostly political discussion that involves Aoba Johsai’s army and possible future cooperation with Shiratorizawa. Oikawa keeps you secured, perfectly perched on his lap the entire time. Eventually, a guard comes in to interject, telling Iwaizumi that there’s a problem he needs to go oversee. Matsukawa and Iwaizumi leave, with the rest of everyone eventually being dismissed.

Oikawa takes you on a walk of his castle. With no other guards, you find yourself more open to talk and Oikawa opens more to you, encouraging your own tale in exchange for his. He takes you to his throne room, the place you two technically first met. He tells you about his father, how he brought him into the throne room for the first time to watch a petty thief beg for his life. A horrible story, one that makes you feel like you have to give him another story of your own. Torn between telling him your secrets and telling him nothing at all, you tell him your parents abandoned you at a young age.

“Both of them?” He asks. You nod, but his eyes show the sorrow you don’t feel. “You’ve been on your own for so long, not even a childhood friend?”

“One. We were close, but things changed as we got older. He.. changed. His mission was to protect and mine was to attack. Opposing sides, yet you’d think our friendship would outweigh that.” The tale is true, but elements are missing. Oikawa doesn’t pry, moving onto another topic. The trail down the corridor is familiar — back to the dungeons.

Oikawa comes and visits you at random times of the day, now. He offers his hand to take a walk around his castle and orders his handmaidens to dress you in some gown of his own choosing. Each walk breaks down more and more walls, soon enough you’re looking forward to talking to someone. Oikawa doesn’t pry more than he needs to, but he does encourage you to vent all you want. He’s there for you and your secrets are sealed behind tightly shut lips.

Your secrets are brisk, hardly showing too much vulnerability and brushing over the kingdom you’re from, or even what king you work for. Oikawa has an idea, but he doesn’t ask for you to go into any details. Oikawa tells you of his father and how he was cruel, saying only those who carried out his orders without questions were loyal. The ripe age of 16 wasn’t kind to Oikawa, having to wake up and find that the captain of the guard had poisoned the king, then himself. Iwaizumi was almost tried for treason, but he had been out on a mission with other soldiers and was pardoned per Oikawa’s request. They grew up together and Oikawa trusts Iwaizumi with his life, even if Iwaizumi shall turn on him one day.

It isn’t until the last walk do you spill the secrets and the names. Aoba Johsai’s garden is gorgeous, with blooming white and blue flowers, white marble fountains that hosts swans and other living creatures, frolicking in the crystal clear water. Oikawa makes it unbelievably awkward, with his constant closeness as he journeys with you around his garden. He brings up that his mother was beheaded before his eyes and his father told him that women are only meant for childbearing and are cruel creatures, only because she didn’t love his father. Oikawa has no Queen because he focused on growing and securing his kingdom, yet now he is expected to marry and have an heir by the end of the month. It isn’t harsh, it shouldn’t have broken you, but him settling on a bench in front of a red rose bush and crying has your walls shattering like glass.

“It was my mother’s favorite flower. That’s why I made so many blue and white flower bushes. This was the last thing she gave to me,” he had said, through his sobs. It was heartbreaking to see a prideful man cry in front of you, so you hugged him and told him the truth.

Your mission was to kill him under King Bokuto’s orders, sent as his personal assassin. You’re under his rule because you failed a previous mission. Finding comfort in Oikawa’s tragic past, finding it to be something nobody should carry alone, you console him. An assassin and a royal mistress for Bokuto, you abide by each one of his orders lest you find your own blade turned on you. Oikawa turns to hug you, letting you cry into his own chest and just sit in the garden, under the setting sun, ranting about anything and everything.

“Bottling things up isn’t good, you know. That’s why I have Iwa-chan. He seems mean, but he’s never once attempted to hurt me,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Bokuto seems like a tyrant,”

“He’s a good guy, he’s just... he’s the best warrior in the kingdom and prides himself on being the best king to live. He used to be cruel and merciless, but he has his moments. He can be soft and has his down moments, he just hides them behind closed doors. He was cruel to me, but he’s changed,” you try to reason, but Oikawa looks at you. “Really.”

“What would you get if you killed me? Let me guess, freedom? He would let you go? After you killed the king with security tighter than his? If you managed to kill me, you wouldn’t make it past the entrance of my castle,” the confirmation of accepting a doomed mission is bitter in your mouth. “You’re valuable. Bokuto wouldn’t just let you go like that. He’s not planning to give you freedom,”

“No, that’s— that’s wrong, he promised-”

“But I can offer you salvation. It’s not freedom, you’ll be stuck here, but you’ll be able to be free of Bokuto’s clutches. Will you take my hand?” Oikawa leans back, showing you his hand. Looking st you, you don’t move.

“What.. what is it?”

“Be my queen, [Y/N]. Bokuto can’t reach you if you’re here with me. Can you honestly tell me you want to go back?”

The thing is, you can’t. Taking his gloved hand, he brings you into his embrace and presses his lips to yours. For the first time, your hands clutch his shirt and you kiss him back.

It’s only a promise in the garden, yet the next morning, you find yourself in Oikawa’s bed, laying next to the naked king. It’s a strange thing to wake up to, but Hanamaki is entering the room shortly, quickly covering his eyes. “I saw nothing,”

“Hanamaki, not to be rude but, you’ve seen me change like 20 times. Why the hell are you turning away?”

“I’m a respectful man! I wouldn’t look at a lady and my future queen with such indecency,” he says, only go and try to wake up Oikawa with closed eyes. His words stun you, having the previous night really settle in and Oikawa actually asking for your permission before indulging in your body. Then the questions pops into your head, remembering Oikawa’s offer. A look at your hands — chains are gone and a silver ring with sapphire is on your finger. That settles that dilemma.

“I’m up, I’m up! What is it?!” Oikawa shouts, popping up from his cocoon. Hanamaki sighs, eyes still closed.

“I know you had a busy night, seeing as we could hear you, but you have responsibilities. Tonight is the banquet with the other kings. News of you getting a queen spread like wildfire, so they’ll probably want to deal with that before anything else,” Hanamaki explains. Then he points in your direction, though it’s at the wall. “And you need to be ready for their onslaught of questions. These kings prefer political marriages over marriages of love, so you need to know how to defend yourself.”

“No need. They wouldn’t dare ask her any questions if I’m taking care of them. I’ll be down shortly, let me dress.” Hanamaki bows and leaves, letting you heave a sigh as the door clicks shut. “Don’t worry, my dear. Bokuto won’t be able to lay a finger on you.”

“Bokuto’s going to be there?! He probably thinks I’m dead, Oikawa!” You panic, getting out of the bed to dress yourself. “I can’t— Kaori will be there too, yes? I can’t do that,”

“You’re untouchable, completely safe in my arms,” he’s behind you, hugging you close. “I’ll have you seated beside me and put Ushiwaka’s queen next to you. She’s harmless and sweet, you’ll be fine. Bokuto will look, but not touch. Trust me.”

Trust him, you do. As the day passes, you’re thrown into different outfits and putting on heels that make your feet hurt. Your hair is done elegantly, as if you haven’t been living in a dungeon for almost two months. Make up is done to make your face look a bit more lively, compared to the dead inside look you normally have. By the time Oikawa sees you again, it’s time for the dinner. You’re brought to the doors of the dining hall, listening to the chatter from inside. Bokuto’s voice is loud and clear, making your insides churn. But Oikawa is right next to you, smiling and letting your hand rest of his arm. Iwaizumi announces the two of you and lets you both walk in.

Avoiding Bokuto’s eyes, you settle down in the chair, but you feel him staring at you. Kaori has a small gasp that is quickly overlooked, but you’re sure it’s because of you. Ushijima and Kuroo seem to be on edge, but another king you don’t know of seems at ease. Oikawa settles down and clears his throat, requesting the food to be served.

“Oikawa, what is this?” Bokuto speaks through gritted teeth, yet his eyes are on you. Oikawa grins, holding your hand for him to see. “She doesn’t look like anybody we know about.”

“Well, to tell you the truth, Bokuto-san,” Oikawa begins, ready to spin the tale of your meeting together. “We met as she was tending to my garden. She would offer me an ear and listen, then I would listen to her troubles. Soon enough, we were both falling in love. She told me her family is going to have to move soon and I offered her a reason to not leave. Her position is but a commoner, yet I love her as if she was royalty,”

“Oikawa, shouldn’t you focus on expanding territory or a political gain over love?” Ushijima interjects. His booming voice startles his queen, which prompts him to lay his hand on her head and apologize. “If you want love, there are mistresses you can take up,”

“Yeah, Oikawa, love isn’t the reasons we get married. You have options, you know? Some nobody gardener isn’t worth it,” Bokuto’s words cut deep, even if they’re based on the lie spun. Kuroo interjects, before Oikawa can say anything.

“I don’t see a problem. I married my queen for love, so it shouldn’t be a big deal?” He tries to ease the tension, smiling warmly. Bokuto’s quick to create more tension.

“Kuroo, you married Lady Alisa because you expanded your territory to the Northern continent and gained three new ports. Love or not, she came with political advantages,”

“Ushiwaka, didn’t you marry for love, too? Yacchan didn’t have much political gain, the Princess of a kingdom in the southern isles. You got a port and some handful of new citizens, not that great,” Oikawa says, folding his hands and smiling at Ushijima. Yachi mumbles to herself and twiddles her thumbs, but doesn’t do much else. You pay her arm and smile, trying to make her less uncomfortable.

“To be fair, unless you go to another continent, there aren’t any women who can stand up to the challenge of being a queen,” the strange king says, then gestures to his queen. “Mai was given to us as an offering by the previous Dateko tribe,”

“Futakuchi, I don’t think that counts as either political nor romantic reasons for marriage,” Oikawa says, but quickly dismisses it. “The point is, I’ll marry who I want to marry and I chose to marry this woman. She will be my bride and give me an heir. That is final.”

Nobody speaks against him, but the seriousness of the situation has you feel queasy. Leaning over to Oikawa, you tell him you’re not feeling good. “Iwa-chan, take my queen-to-be to her room, she isn’t feeling well,”

“Yes, your majesty,” he bows and helps you out of the chair. Guiding you out of the room, you take a quick glance to Bokuto, seeing him still watching you. It makes you feel even worse. The doors shut behind you and Iwaizumi leans down to whisper to you. “Do I need to walk you to your room or do you need fresh air?”

“Some fresh air, please. I don’t really want to go back,” You mutter. Iwaizumi nods, then gives you directions to the garden. “Thank you, Iwa-chan,”

“Don’t push your buttons,” he growls out, waiting for you to leave before entering the room again. Seeing as you’re mostly alone, you sigh and take in shaky breaths. You’ve never felt so helpless before, unable to do anything or save your pride. Kaori and Bokuto expected you to be dead, not sleeping with Oikawa. But now they— no, he knows. He will find you and use honeyed words to bring you back, but you must be strong.

A throat cleared behind you has you whirling around. Expecting someone you’re familiar with is a given, but you didn’t expect to see Bokuto standing at the entrance. “Hello, my little bird,”

“Go away, Bokuto. I don’t want to deal with you,”

“I told you to kill Oikawa, not sleep with him. Now you’ll be his queen? Do you not want your freedom? Or is this an elaborate plan?” His arms are wide as he moves towards you. You back up, watching his face drop and pout. “Not a plan, is it?”

The lack of care in his words make you think he’s gotten rid of any guards nearby. Deciding your life is better than telling the truth, you lie. “I’ll come back. I got caught my first day, so I need to wait for an opportunity.”

“That’s my girl,” he’s close enough to hug you, pressing your body close against his. “I’ve missed this. You next to me. Me inside of you,”

“That’s vulgar and very gross, sir,” you cringe. He laughs, but it’s short. Then, he’s tilting your head up by your chin. “Boku-” he cuts you off with a kiss, pressing his tongue against your lips. Wanting him to leave you alone as soon as possible, you let him kiss you and bury your fingers into his sleeves. His grip on you tightens, a growl from his throat as he lets his hands brush against your ass. Feeling his intentions go beyond a simple kiss, you retreat and look away so he doesn’t pout. “Not here. Not now. You have to wait.”

“Then I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you to be with me once more and I await the news of King Oikawa’s lifeless body. Remember what I can give you. Oikawa wouldn’t grant you freedom, only I can,” he murmurs the last bit in your ear, pressing a kiss against the shell before leaving. The wind blows as you retreat further into the garden, feeling your cheeks wet with tears.

With only the sun setting as your companion, you find yourself wondering if you made the right choice.

#haikyuu x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa x you #king Oikawa series #tw.alcohol #tw.noncon #tw.abuse #Mr. Tōru #tw.cheating #Oikawa.Angst

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gr0vndz3ro · 4 years

Text

Object of Desire

Demon!Bakugou x Reader (NSFW)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Dub-con, public, barely plot??, swearing, dirty talk, degradation, choking, mentions/use of alcohol, semi public?, oral, unprotected sex

Word count: 2,459

A/N: im soRRY but ya girl is i n s p i r e d. I started writing this at 5 am and im convinced that is when I get my best writing done, and that's on a fucked up sleep schedule. If you want the same effect I had when I wrote this listen to Leviathan by G-Easy. Art is not mine, if you know the artist let me know pls.

It was late and you were way to drunk to be walking the streets by yourself. Your friends had begged you to come out with them to go partying, you knew you would come to regret it in the morning. You and your friends slammed drinks after drinks without a care in the world, it was Halloween night after all, what else were a bunch of single ladies suppose to do. So this is how you were now carrying a pair of heels by your side, in a dress that was just a little to short, and a headband with fuzzy black ears now digging into your head because you can’t go out without a costume according to your friends.

Your feet patter against the rough concrete, the only thing protecting you from the ground is the pantyhose you threw on earlier in some attempt to be modest. The street lights in your neighbor hood shine a dim yellow light across the street, the only other light coming from decorations from houses you pass. No body was out on the street except for the other occasional drunks, seeing as it was some ungodly hour in the morning.

You would have called a cab if you had any clue what had happened to your phone, you faintly remember your friend taking at the beginning of the night so you couldn’t ditch them. Smart, because you NEVER did stuff like this. You’re considered the “mom” friend of your group. At this point you just wanted to plop down in your bed and forget about tonight.

Suddenly you’re taken out of your thoughts by the sound of foot steps behind you. You end up ignoring it, assuming it’s just another person trying to get home after a long night of partying, like yourself. You keep your pace and decide to take a short cut wanting to get out of your ridiculous “costume”, dipping into an alley you were very familiar with, never realizing how poorly lit it was, seeing as you were never out this late.

Red eyes, unknown to you, watch your every move. A smirk growing on his face as he enters the alley.

Walking down the road, you suddenly start feeling like you’re being watched so you quickly turn around to calm your nerve. Not seeing anyone behind you, you continue on your walk. You make the turn around the corner and confusion takes over as you face to face with a wall. Did I take a wrong turn? I could have sworn this was the right street.. You shrug your shoulders turning around to exit the dead end when you feel your heart stop. The only light in the alley was the moons glow, but that was all you needed to see those vermilion eyes staring into you. You go to let out a scream but are stopped as a hand covers your mouth.

“Hey, hey, we wouldn’t anyone to hear you and think something is wrong...” The man infront of you pauses, breaking your eye contact to let his eyes roam over you. A smirk takes over his face and you can see sharp canines peek out from his lip. He tilts his head to the side and reaches to your head fixing your ears “...now would we kitten”.

Your eyes dart behind him to see if there was any way someone could see what was happening and come help, but you knew deep down, no one was going to make the same mistake you did and walk into an empty dead end. The man infront takes a step toward you slowly closing the gap.

“So what’s a pretty girl like you doing out here all alone huh? Don’t you know there are bad men out walking the street at this hour.” He voice sending chills down your spine as you do everything in you power to keep your eyes off of him. Looking all around you for something, anything to get you out of that alley. You let out a gasp as you feel a hand make its way into your hair, “I asked you a question, you going to answer me?” His eye brow quirked as he waits.

“I was heading home from a party my friends invited me to, we all ended up getting really drunk. I was going to call a cab but I think one of my friends took my phone and she went home with some guy, even though she told me the reason she was taking me out was to get laid.” The truth spilling from you mouth without missing a bet. You hadn’t meant to say a that to the stranger but between the alcohol and his enchanting gaze, you couldn’t stop yourself. Your mouth drops open as you slam a hand to your lips, mortified at what you had just said. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“You meant it though. Here I thought you were a good girl but all you want is some dick, such a dirty little slut.” His head dipping into your neck, licking a wet strip from your collarbone to just under you ear, stopping to nibble on your ear lobe. “I can make you feel so good you just got to say the word and I’ll make it happen.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the mans lewd words. All you could think of was to push him off of you but the growing heat in-between your legs prevented you. You felt as his hands traveled you body lightly, sending all types of chills down your spine and into your core. Quickly, you grab his wrists when they dip under your dress to your outer thighs.

“Oh what do have here, are you going to stop me princess. Go ahead tell me to stop, I dare you to try.” You open your mouth but no words come out. You were frozen between the wall and his gaze. You couldn’t find the words to make him stop. But honestly you didn’t want to. The burning trails his fingertips left as they dug into the sensitive skin on your legs was enough to make shiver in anticipation. “That’s what I had thought, now your going to be a good little girl for me now aren’t you? Going to do everything I tell you too”.

“But I-I don’t even know your name” you let out as a feeble attempt to get him to stop.

“It’s Katsuki and you can bet it’ll be the only name you remember when I done with you.”

He shakes his hands from your grasp and moves them to inner thigh, nudging your legs apart. Your leg open without you even thinking and a warm jolt gets sent to your core as you feel him rip open your pantyhose. He moves his head from his assault on your neck down your torso until he is met with your lacey underwear now on view. A blush crosses you face as you watch him lick his lips when he sees how wet you are from how little he has done to you.

“You’re soaked and I haven’t even touched you yet. You really are just a dirty little slut aren’t you.” Now on his knees he brings your legs further apart as he brings his face to your heated core. Locking his eyes with yours, he runs a long strip with his tongue against your clothed core. A wine escapes your lips at the action causing your already damp underwear to now be soaked. His teeth catch hold at the top and rips the garment off of you, you gasp as the cold air hits your newly exposed area. His warm breath fans across you as he sticks out his tongue again. You soon realized the situation you were in and how dirty it made you feel.

“I..I never do stuff like this” trying desperately to clear your image. You look down at the blond between your legs and notice two horns that stick out of each side of his head. Your eyes travel down his body taking in his large build and to the large black and red wings that come out form his back. “W-wait are you supposed to be the devil or something?” His eyes light up underneath you and he smirks

“Oh you have no idea” A load moan rips from your mouth as he plunges his tongue past your lips deep into you. You squirm as you feel it travel up inside of you, what the fuck no normal tongue can do this, but you are taken out of your thoughts as it brushes against your soft spongey wall. Just as quickly as the overwhelming sensation had came it left, his tongue retreating out of you as you let out a whine at lose of contact. “Quiet now, you don't want anyone to hear how desperate you are now do you?”

You nodded your head and bit down on your lip as the familiar feeling sends warm surges to your core. His tongue was going to be the death of you. The things you’d sign away to feel like this forever. The way it moved inside of you like no other, pressing against all the right spots perfectly. With how hard you were biting down on your lip you were sure you would draw blood but it was to good for you to handle. If this is just his tongue imagine if...the dirty thought causes you to clench around him. His moan vibrates against your clit at the feeling making you roll back your eyes at the sensation. The warm knot growing bigger as you felt yourself coming closer by this stranger.

“I-I’m so close” You barely manage to get out, not able to think due to the pure pleasure seeping through you. He lets out a groan against you, giving you permission to come undone. And that final vibration was all you needed to release that building pressure in your core. You bit down most of your moan but a small whimper still manages to make its way out. You feel his tongue leave and lick up every drop that may have escaped.

“You taste so good angel, wouldn’t want any of this to go to waste.” He moves to your thigh leaving light kisses that soon turn into harsh attacks, his sharp teeth grazing your skin. Finally he manages to peel himself away and moves back up to your face, just inches away you can see his once bright red eyes darken with lust. “Now I am going to fuck you so hard you wont be able to walk the rest of the way home.” His hand finds its way around you neck lightly giving it a squeeze “But I bet a little slut like you would love that huh?”

You feel your airway constricting, not only from his hand but the words that he said, a throb surging through your already sensitive core. You hear him shuffle and then move his hand from your neck to the back of your thighs, giving them a squeeze making you jump. He lifts you up with that momentum and you instinctively wrap your legs around his hips. A whimper leaves your lips as you feel his head slide against your folds, coating in your slick.

Suddenly he drops you onto him, as he plunges fully into you. You throw your head onto his shoulder, biting at the fabric of his shirt as he stretches you out. You weren’t expecting him to be that big, but he filled you up perfectly. You can feel his smirk against your skin as he lets you adjust to his size. The cold feeling of rough brick against your back as you try to get used to it.

“Pleease… move” you let out, barely louder than a whisper.

“Oh with pleasure” He moves out of you completely, with just his tip at your entrance before slamming back into you. A groan escapes his lips at how tight your walls hug him. “For such a slutty girl you’re so fucking tight kitten”

His movements speed up sending you into a state of euphoria. His dick hitting your g-spot with every rut. He dips his head into your neck, searching for your sensitive spot. As a moan rips from you mouth he knew he had found it, and starts his attacking, earning all kind of noises from you.

His speed was starting to pick up even faster and you don’t know how much longer you’ll be able to with stand this. His dick moving in and out of you at an inhuman speed. Sensitive to every move he made, you could feel the way his thick veins rubbed against your walls causing your toes to curl as you felt a burning sensation start to build back up.

“I-I don’t think I c-can last much longer” was all you can say as he slams into you.

“Let everyone know who is making you feel this good, let them know who you belong to now.” He growls against your neck, teeth drawing blood due to his bit.

“You! God, you Katsuki. I’m all yours!” You scream out, pleasure starting to completely take over you, note even caring about your volume. A devilish smirk takes over his face.

“Then cum for me.” His says as he slams deep into you. His words making you come undone for the second time that night. This was so much more intense then the first one, your legs squeezing around him hard as you loose all control. His pace starts to falter as he watches you come apart in front of him causing him to reach his own high. He twitches within you, hot ropes filling you up as he moans at his release.

Your breathing rough as you try to regain your senses. He hold you in place against him and the wall as you catch you breath, as he does the same. Eventually he pulls out of you and lowers you to the ground, your knees wanting to instantly give out but they don’t. You eyes meet his as you realize what has just happened.

“Am I ever going to see you again?” You feel dumb even asking the question, until you hear him chuckle infront front of you.

“You’ll be seeing lots of me” His gaze drops down and you follow it to your wrist. Gasping as you seeing a binding mark on your wrist with a red glow to it. You quickly look and lock eyes with him, the same red glow meeting you. He lowers his head back to your ear once again as his next words send chills down your spine.

“You’re mine now.”

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darkheart-brightsmile · 3 years

Text

The Eye of The Storm

This was meant to be a drabble and y'know, I got carried away so I introduce part one of my Barson mini-series. Using a prompt from my beautiful Barson Babes on Twitter where Olivia ends up wearing Rafael's clothes.

WC: 2927

Warnings: Mentions of the William Lewis story arc but nothing explicit. Hurt/comfort, mild angst.

Happy reading peeps.

***

He looked up suddenly at the sound of his office door slamming open violently.

“’Liv?”

“There’s a thunderstorm going on outside if you didn’t already know.” she snapped.

Rafael took a second to take in her appearance, she was soaked through to the skin. Her hair was wild and untamed around her shoulders, wisps clinging to her face. Her suit pants were stuck to her legs (he tried not to notice their pleasing shape but failed), her blouse was clinging to her breasts and stomach and her jacket was hanging over her arm, dripping all over his office floor. Despite the fact she looked uncomfortable, cold, and bewildered she still looked as beautiful as she ever did.

“And you decided to take a stroll in it?”

“Not initially.” she smirked, “I was halfway over here when the heavens opened, and I decided to run for it.”

“And the rain clearly beat you.”

“Indeed.” she laughed.

“Well first, you need coffee. Secondly you need to change out of those clothes. You’re not going to get warm and dry if you stay in those.” he gave her a pointed look, spinning on his heel to retrieve a fresh jug of coffee from the machine he kept in his office and pouring them both a cup.

“Oh yes, let me just pull my emergency change of clothes from my bag.” she replied grumpily, taking her cup from him, and gripping it tightly to warm her numb hands.

“I have something you can wear if you want.” he replied, moving behind his desk to the cabinet in the corner and opening the door. He crouched down, obviously looking for something. She watched him curiously wondering what an earth he was going to whip out when she heard an ‘aha’ and a split-second later noticed his grinning face and what looked to be a gym bag held out in one hand.

“I doubt you’d treat your suits like that so what’s in the bag, Counsellor?”

“Gym kit, there’s sweatpants, a t-shirt, I think a hoody and maybe some clean socks?” he replied, looking pleased with himself at being able to save the day.

“I can’t wear your clothes, Rafael.” she replied, frowning, and shaking her head.

“Why on earth not?” he asked aghast, surely, she just wanted to be dry and warm was his first thought.

“You seriously don’t mind?” she replied quietly, looking up to watch his face carefully, knowing immediately if his offer was truly sincere.

“I really don’t. You’re soaking wet and starting to ruin my carpet.” he replied with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood and noted her slight smile at his remark. “At least change into these for now, we can dry your stuff the best we can until the rain stops and you can get home.”

She nodded slowly. “I think that’s a half decent idea. What I mean is, thank you. Where can I, uh, you know?”

“Oh. Yeah, in here. I’ll step out and guard the door.” he cleared his throat and avoided looking at her again, that blouse really was rather transparent when wet, he noted.

Olivia blushed as Rafael moved to hand her the bag, now acutely aware how her wet clothes were clinging to her curves and how, bizarre, it would feel to be wearing his clothes instead. They were friends, close friends, but wearing Rafael’s clothes? She shook that thought off as the door closed behind him and she set about changing.

She knew he wouldn’t barge in; she knew she was in relative privacy, but it didn’t stop her constantly glancing to the door and window (he had closed the blinds before he left) expecting someone to come bursting in or peeking through the glass.

Moving behind his desk felt like the safest option so tugging her boots and socks off first, she unzipped his bag to find sweatpants with a tie waist and breathed a sigh of relief that at least she could make them fit decently.

She stripped off her pants, wincing as the damp fabric now freezing cold, slithered down her legs, her underwear was wet too but that was staying firmly put – one step too far she thought.

Sweatpants on and adjusted at the waist she started unbuttoning her blouse, struggling to peel it from her arms, the rain having saturated the entire garment. She hung it carefully over his desk chair, before yanking off her tank top and placing that over the top. She rummaged around in the bag, finding a plain white t-shirt, and pulled that on quickly, if only to avoid standing in his office in only her bra any longer.

The t-shirt was faded and well-loved and even though she knew it was freshly laundered, it still smelled of him.She breathed it in for a second before pulling the Harvard hoody over her head. She fell back into his desk chair with the socks in hand, when she heard a knock on the door, her head shooting up.

“’Liv? You decent?”

“Yeah! Yeah, come in!” she called out, watching as the door opened and his head hesitantly peeking around, as if he was still worried, she was half naked.

“There you go! You look much better.”

“God, I feel better already.” she sighed, tugging one sock on then the other, “you really are a lifesaver, Rafael.”

“My pleasure.” he replied smoothly, shutting the door, and coming further into the room. “Even if I don’t get to the gym often enough, the clothes have served their purpose today.” he laughed.

She picked up her mug of coffee, waving it in his direction. “Cheers to your clothes saving my ass.”

He laughed whole heartedly at that, picking up his own coffee and taking a sip, trying to steady himself at the sight of her in his clothes – of course she made them look good. The woman could wear a trash bag and look sexy. He smiled gently coming around to perch on the corner of her desk.

“We should hang those up to dry.” he pointed at her things flung across the back of his chair and swallowed deeply at the thought that only moments ago she had been stripping them off.

She stood up to gather her things and he moved past her to retrieve a coat hanger from the same cabinet.

“Really?” she laughed seeing him holding it out to her.

“Like you said, my suits need tender love and care, I keep spares here just in case and always have a spare hanger if I have to send something out to the dry cleaners before I go home.”

“If you send your suit out what do you wear home?” she asked innocently.

His eyes raked over her body, and he gave her a pointed look.

“Oh right.” she laughed, suddenly feeling rather self-conscious.

“That’s when I go to the gym.” he laughed, “if I’m already dressed for it, I’m more likely to actually go.”

“Very savvy.” she laughed in response, manoeuvring her tank top and blouse onto the hanger.

He took it from her, before holding out his other hand for the pants which she frowned out but passed over. She watched him as he crossed the room and opened a small cupboard, she had assumed was storage. He leant forward hanging the hanger up on a rail in the top and laying the pants over what looked like a pipe running through and upwards into the ceiling.

“Dare I ask?” she chuckled.

“The heating pipes for the floor above cut through here, so I basically have a drying cupboard at my disposal. An hour or so and your clothes will be toasty and dry. Very handy for when I’ve been caught in the occasional downpour coming from court too.” he chuckled, shutting the door and refilling his coffee mug.

“I always thought that was just storage.” she replied incredulously.

“The best kept secret about this office.” he smiled, taking a seat on his couch, “Don’t tell anyone else otherwise I’ll be forced to share.”

“You shared the secret with me, not to mention your clothes – I won’t tell anyone, cross my heart.” she replied gently, still grateful that he had come to her rescue.

“You’re not just anyone, ‘Liv.” he said smoothly, shaking his head ever so slightly.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” she smiled, blushing again under his intense gaze, something about the look he was giving her turning her insides to jelly.

“It was intended as one.” he murmured softly, patting the space on the couch next to him, hoping that she would join him for a little while. His office always feeling that much brighter when she was in it.

She sighed when she sank into the couch, resting her head back and closing her eyes for a second, and he watched her closely, relishing in the tranquillity of them sitting side by side, not a word uttered between them, just savouring the company.

“Feel better?” he whispered, almost fearful of disturbing her meditative state.

“Mmmm.” she hummed, “not quite dry but much better, thank you.”

“How are you still wet?” he asked, not having thought his question through properly.

She blushed heavily before replying. “Well, I wasn’t taking my underwear off too, Rafael.”

He choked on his coffee, and she covered her mouth to stifle her laughter as he spluttered and used a handkerchief to dab at his shirt and face.

“Sorry.” she said, tilting her head to watch him as he settled back into the couch and started sipping what was left of his now lukewarm beverage.

“No, it’s my fault, shouldn’t have asked. Besides, it’s not like I’ve got anything suitable for you to wear instead.” he smirked.

“I would hope not.” she laughed. “If I had found a bra and women’s underwear in your gym bag there would be some serious questions.”

“I can safely say, in my office and my apartment, there’s not a single item fitting that description.” he knew he didn’t need to add that in about his apartment, but something made him want to tell her, albeit, indirectly, that he wasn’t seeing anyone.

“Really?” she asked, blushing again, and looking down at her feet curled up underneath her knees.

“Yep.” he nodded.

“Okay.” she flashed him the most brilliant smile, before sipping her coffee, her eyes fixed on anything except his face, and he was secretly thrilled that she was so happy he was obviously single. It made his heart leap ever so slightly, just enough to be hopeful.

“Okay then.” he grinned back. Well, that was something.

The rain was still pounding against the windows, the noise echoing through his office as they sat comfortably together on the couch, sipping the last dregs of their coffee. Rafael knew he should be getting back to his work but somehow, he couldn’t find it in him to move away from her.

Olivia for the most part was content thinking her own thoughts, the swell of the storm was ironically relaxing, she actually loved the rain, the smell of the air afterwards, the hypnotic noise as the drops pelted the windows at a steady pace – getting caught in it, not so much, but warm and dry she found herself almost ready to drift off to sleep.

“Hey, you still with me?” he asked quietly, his voice floating across her consciousness. God, she loved his voice.

“Just about.” she groaned, tucking her head further into the cushions of his couch, keeping her eyes closed.

“This couch is surprisingly comfortable to sleep on.” he replied.

“You mean to say the great Rafael Barba occasionally naps whilst at work?” she teased, opening one eye to peer at him and seeing him smirk at her question.

“More like collapsed in exhaustion and woken up the next morning.” he chuckled.

“You really are committed to your work aren’t you!” she laughed.

“I can count on one hand the number of times it’s happened, but it’s only been when your squad has been in crisis.”

“That’s strangely comforting. When was the last time?” she asked quietly, now curious what would constitute him needing to kip in his office rather than trudge home.

He cleared his throat and glanced at her quickly before he spoke. “Uh, William Lewis.”

“Oh.” She replied quietly, desperately pushing those memories back down to the dark depths they were surfacing from, the gun, Russian roulette, having to hold the trigger to her temple, his eyes burning into hers, then the blood after he pulled the trigger – no. She gritted her teeth and swallowed back the tears. She would not let him ruin her day. She spent too much time focussing on staying calm and rational, he would not be allowed to ruin this evening for her.

“I’m sorry, ‘Liv, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t. It happened, there’s nothing either of us can do about that. And he’s dead. Living with the memories is the hardest part but that’s why I have a good therapist.” she finished with a small smile and shrug, but he could feel the mixed emotions and tension radiating from her body.

He tentatively stretched out his hand to hold hers that was tugging at the knees of his sweatpants, clasping his fingers in his warm palm. She sighed again, looking up him slowly from under her eyelashes and he was heartbroken to see tears prickling in the corner of hers.

“You amaze me sometimes, Olivia.”

She sniffed and swiped at her eyes. “How?” she chuckled.

“Because despite the horrors you’ve seen and experienced, the pure terror you’ve seen in your life, you keep going, you’ve never given up. And I don’t know how many people that would be able to do that in your position. They would lock themselves away and let it tear them apart from the inside, and you never have done. And that is incredible, Olivia. You are incredible.”

It was the most heartfelt thing he had ever said to her, and her heart thumped wildly in her chest as he smiled gently at her and squeezed her hand tighter.

“I thought you didn’t want me to cry.” she choked out, the tears now falling down her face at his passionate speech and he shrugged and looked sheepish.

“Depends on whether they’re happy tears or sad tears.” he smiled, handing her his handkerchief.

“They’re ‘that was a lovely thing to say’ tears.” she laughed through her sobs as she dabbed at her eyes and wiped her nose. She thought she looked awful now, her mascara was probably running down her face and her eyes were sure to be puffy and red. He still thought she looked as beautiful as ever.

She moved onto her knees and suddenly without warning threw herself around his neck and squeezed him into a huge hug. He was shocked for a second before he realised, she was obviously okay with him touching her, so his arms came around her waist and he tucked her closer into his body, her face curled into his neck.

“Thank you.” she whispered into his skin, and he felt another tingle run down his back. He breathed in deeply, surrounding himself with her scent, something flowery, and subtle but so alluring.

“You’re welcome.” he murmured into her neck, pulling back to press a delicate kiss to her temple as she slid to curl into his side for a few more moments.

“The rain’s stopped.” he murmured into her hair as she tucked herself closer, her arms wrapped around herself, and his one arm around her shoulders, holding her into his body.

Later, once she had changed clothes again, he was struck but just how special she really was. She never let anyone see her like that, he knew that well enough – she projected calm, certainty and control. So, the fact she had broken down in tears and thrown herself into his arms was a sign that their friendship was one that she valued, that she embraced, that really meant something to her. He was touched by that.

He had stepped out for her to change and returned when she had said it was safe to do so. She had put her own pants and shoes back on but had kept his socks on, his t-shirt and hoody on at his insistence that it was warmer, and she could return them whenever she liked. She folded up her own things carefully and tucked them into his gym bag which she had decided she was going to take with her. Gathering up her bag and phone.

“Well, thank you for my coffee, and the loan of your clothes, and the pep talk.” she smiled, as she reached his door and he grabbed the handle, to keep it open for her.

“I would never leave a damsel in distress.” he smirked.

“So, what does that make you? Prince Charming?”

“Charming is one thing I can definitely be.” he murmured quietly, as if he was letting her in on a secret. He tilted his head slightly just enough to kiss her cheek and let his lips graze her skin as he pulled away. “Goodnight, ‘Liv.”

She squeezed his hand one last time. “Night, Rafa.”

She could feel his eyes on her back all the way to the elevator, but she refused to turn around. If she turned around, she wasn’t sure what would have happened, what she would have done, and that thought stayed with her all night and trailed into her dreams.

***

@igreg04 @mhargitay64 @tinyboxxtink @lauchasstuff @nippow @chasingeverybreakingwave @i-run-with-scissors39 @barsonlover2021 @michael-rooker @alwaysachorusgirl @storiesofsvu @chunex @klk1618 @simpforbarba @dubuforeveralone @zizzlekwum @tinyboxxtink@human––tragedy @a-queen-of-chaos @raulesparza4eva @thatesqcrush

#barson fanfic #barson fanfiction #Rafael Barba fanfiction #Olivia Benson fanfiction #svu fanfic #svu fanfiction #barson drabble #barson fic #svu drabble #svu mini series #Rafael barba #Olivia benson

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mimssides · 3 years

Text

Nerver Met You

Chapter 2: First Steps

The hardest steps to take are the first ones. The ones which will take us away from our past, away from our pain but also our love.

“You may stop,” Janus said as the man fell back into a defensive stance to fight off yet another soldier.

The soldiers retreated and the man looked over to Janus, his gaze filled with anticipation and a considerable amount of exhaustion. Janus had had him fight for a good hour after letting him unload the flour carriage, cleaning the stables and run the training course of the military recruits. He had been up since five in the morning and between the chores he had questioned him about his past.

The man, he still had not given him his name, not even an initial, was in his early thirties, born and lived all his life in Theana and knew far too much about their political situation for a usual commoner. Janus had also let his men run a background check over the stranger but there was no one who seemed to know or even recognize him in the slightest. Which was very weird considering how memorable and eccentric the man spoke and presented himself after Janus had gotten him to talk a little more.

With a wave of his hand Janus motioned him to come closer. With light steps, not showing how much his legs must be aching and the straightest posture Janus had ever seen, the man walked towards him and halted right before him with a curious look.

“Yes, you may speak,” Janus said without thinking why he knew that the man wanted to say something.

He wiggled his eyebrows, shimmied his shoulders and said: “What’s next, chief? Wanna see me sweat and bleed some more? I can lose some layers if you'd like.”

“Yes, because you have so many layers to lose,” Janus deadpanned looking at the tunic with no signs of an undershirt beneath it and the loose pants the man was wearing.

The man snickered and let the wooden staff he had been fighting with rest on the ground as he held himself upright with it. The view was oddly endearing even though Janus was a little annoyed.

The mysteries around this odd man really intrigued him at this point but he had no way to find out more. It was not that the man did not want to cooperate, he simply couldn’t. Several times Janus had asked him personal things and he had tried to answer just to begin to cough and hold his throat again. Which most likely meant that this man was cursed.

Which should have been enough. Which should have meant that Janus would send him on his way and not truly consider Logan’s silly request of making this man the king’s personal guard. And yet Janus was looking at this odd man once more and let himself consider it.

The picture of Patton cradled in the man’s arms reappeared in Janus’s mind and he decided to dig one last time in the man’s past for now.

“You were well-versed in calming the boy. Did you work with children in the past or how does it come that you knew exactly what to do with him?” Janus asked hoping that this was vague enough so the man could answer it.

The man’s grin disappeared and he straightened up again. Alerted Janus watched as he for the first time didn’t meet his gaze and looked down to the side. He was biting his lips and clenching and unclenching his fist before he stretched his fingers and looked back at Janus again.

His voice was rather raw as he said: “I didn’t work with children but I was a kid once too and – I've seen some shit as a kid. I’ve been through trauma and I remember how hard it was a s a kid to deal with it, so I tried to help him the way I wished someone would have helped me.”

Janus gulped. Something twisted in his stomach as he forced his expression to remain neutral and told him: “I apologize that I had you revisit those memories. And for the record, I am sorry you had to go through this alone. You might not know it but despite my untrusting nature I do believe that every person deserves support in their times of need.”

The man faintly smiled.

“I did know. And thank you for your compassion but I wasn’t alone. I had my -”

***

Today was a mournful anniversary for Theana. It had been a year since the assassination of the king and queen and Janus was walking towards Crown Prince Roman’s quarters, since he had rung the bell for him. He needed to get there quickly; Roman was not one to send for him or anybody for the matter.

The Crown Prince had been reclusive and antisocial during the year of mourning and had not spoken a single word with anybody since that day. Janus had tried to get him help, had asked █████ to help him with it but █████ had denied him. He insisted to give Roman space and leave him be despite it breaking his heart.

Janus frowned. █████ was suffering under his ███████’s silence. Roman was the only blood family had been left and his previously so sunny and loud personality was lacking immensely within the castle walls. As the Royal Advisor, Janus knew he had to get Roman back to health again, since █████’s psyche would otherwise decline even more. This first year as a child ████ had been so hard on him and he needed some semblance of hope. And he needed it soon.

Janus forced a neutral expression on his face before he knocked on the door and waited for the small bell to chime once which meant one could enter. The bell chimed and Janus entered.

On the cushions on the bay window Roman sat and stared outside. As Janus approached, he turned his face towards him, without meeting his eyes, and slowly got up. Just like █████ he had had a growth spurt and no longer looked like a child but like an adolescent. He was tall for a thirteen-year-old, rather slim and was wearing a black tunic and pants, as every day since his parents’ death.

Patiently, Janus waited. It usually took some time until Roman made known what he wanted and Janus dared to wait as long as needed. Then Roman lifted his hand and brought it up towards his lips with a small gesture. Janus nodded and asked to confirm: “You wish for some water, Your Royal Highness?”

Roman nodded and Janus got the water carafe from the tray in corner of the room. Quietly, he filled it with water and gave it a short once over with his eye of truth to make sure it wasn’t poisoned and then handed it Roman.

Graciously, Roman took it and sipped a few tiny sips as Janus stepped back and watched him intently. The work he did here was not the one of the Royal Advisor but one of a guardian or a servant. But then again, Janus was still a child himself, many of his more complex duties were still taken care of by his father.

Because Janus still had a father to take care of the complicated and dangerous tasks the court had in stall for him. And while Janus felt grateful for it, he also felt guilty the longer he looked at █████ and Roman in their his position. Especially on a day like this. And thinking of the many things he still had to do, he was about to bow in front of his Crown Prince and excuse himself to leave when Roman raised his hand as a sign for him to wait.

And so, Janus waited. He watched as Roman opened his mouth, quietly cleared his throat and took again a sip of water before he at once looked up and for the first time in a year met Janus’s eyes.

A shiver ran down Janus’s spine. There was a force and might behind the gesture that was inexplicable to him.

“I will attend to the speech and the mourning festivities. Tell my ███████ I will stand by his side,” Roman spoke with a voice far stronger and slightly deeper than Janus had remembered him speaking before.

Never had Janus thought that on this terrible day something good, no something so wonderful, could happen. He didn’t even care that tears were rolling over his cheeks and that his whole body was shaking in front of a member of the Royal Family. He especially didn’t care as Roman’s pulled his brows slightly upwards and a faint smile decorated his lips.

Quietly, Roman walked up to Janus and put his hand on his shoulder. A gentle squeeze and a deep breath.

“Am I understood?” Roman said ever so softly.

Eagerly, Janus bowed his head and excused himself as Roman turned towards the window again. The moment Janus had left the room, he began sprinting down the hall towards █████’s quarters. With tears of joy still dripping of his cheeks he passed by the guards and ignored their calls to stop and stormed into █████’s room, where he was preparing his garments for the festivities.

With furrowed brows █████ eyed Janus and stepped away from the tailor who had been making the last adjustments for his outfit. He waited for Janus to catch his breath and the young Royal Advisor sloppily wiped his face and tried to compose himself.

As Janus took his time, █████ grew antsy and eventually asked him before he could stop himself: “What happened?”

Janus looked up. There stood his ████ in a black tunic and black pants just like Roman had worn this morning as well. His hair was just as curly, the eyes just as green, even the face was just the same. And yet Janus had never mistaken him for Roman.

“Your ███████-” Janus panted and saw █████’s face fall and added hastily - “He spoke! He said he would attend to the festivities and be by your side.”

Janus did not complain as █████ simply stormed out of the room. He followed despite his burning lungs and more guards shouting. And he knew it was all worth it when he watched █████ reaching Roman’s room and enter without knocking. He knew it would be alright when █████ flung himself in Roman’s arms and cried into the nape of his neck as Roman quietly told him that it was okay.

***

A coughing fit, far worse than those before overcame the man and Janus stepped to his side to stroke his back in a calming manner. The man quickly put on hand on Janus’s shoulder to steady himself as the coughs slowly subsided and he found himself breathing normally again. As he finally had finished, Janus let one of the guards bring him some water and the two of them walked to the edge of the training ring and sat down on a bench.

The man was breathing heavily and his hands were shaking from the coughing fit. Almost Janus reached over to him and help him drink from the glass so he would not spill the water but stopped himself in the last moment. This was ridiculous. He didn’t know this man, he was a stranger and a potential threat. He was not supposed to care about him and help him out on a whim, Janus reminded himself and shook his head.

“I think this is enough for now,” Janus said and stood up.

The man wanted to follow suit and but Janus stopped with the words: “You have deserved a break after the assessment. I will talk with the king about your position and will let you know what we decided soon after. You may now return to your quarter and wait there for the next orders.”

The man gaped. Janus could imagine why; he was not known to be merciful or kind. He had always been harsh and demanding unlike Roman, who he had supported during all of his life and had always been warm-hearted and forgiving despite the lessons life had taught him. Janus had needed to protect the too pure man and it had made him cynical and cautious. But there was something in this stranger that awoke just the same protective instinct which usually kicked in when Roman was around.

“Seize this moment of my sentimentality, stranger,” Janus said sharply under his breath knowing fully well that his left eye was glowing golden, “for it will not come upon you again. Enjoy your break and make sure that I won’t have to regret this. Otherwise, you will pay for it.”

A nod followed and Janus left the training grounds. The man watched as he instructed a few guards to bring him back to his quarters and he followed as the led him back there. Not that he needed their guidance to find the place.

Quarters was a generous name for a square room with a kitchenette, a table with a chair, a closet and a bed. There was a small bathroom with a toilet and a water faucet where he had freshened up last night. Judging his sweat drenched clothes, he would need to go to the baths for the soldiers which would be an interesting experience for him.

With a sigh he sat down on his chair and ruffled through his curly hair. What was he doing? Why did he come back to the castle? This was torture to him and it wouldn’t do him any good to stick around here any longer. He should leave. He really should leave before the prince would come to the castle. After that he would be hopelessly lost.

Tock, tock.

The man listened up. With furrowed brows he stared at the door.

Tock, tock.

Now it sounded like a question somehow and the man decided to answer and got up.

“Yes?” he asked and opened the door to not see anybody stand in front of it.

A tiny cough sent the man’s eyes looking downwards and there he found Patton standing in front of his door. The little boy looked up at him with a shy smile and before the man knew it, he crouched down to his eye level and returned the smile brightly.

“Hello Patton! It’s so nice to see you again,” the man said softly and Patton giggled a little.

“It’s nice to see you too! I was looking for you in the whooooole outer courtyard! It’s very big, and my legs aren’t very long so it took me a while to search it all,” Patton whispered quickly and leaned forward as if he was telling a secret.

“I see,” the man stage whispered back to Patton’s amusement. “How did you find me?”

“I asked one of the guards! She was very nice and said it was very nice of me to come and thank you for saving me.”

The man’s expression shifted. He looked surprised and Patton furrowed his little brows at that. Why was his saviour surprised? Was it that unusual to ask guards for help? Didn’t grownups ask for directions as well? How did they not get lost all the time?

“You want to thank me?”

Patton was very confused now. Why was this grownup so confused that someone would thank him for helping them? That didn’t make any sense!

“You don’t make any sense! Of course, I want to thank you!” Patton said and put his hands on the man’s knees causing him to look at him with big eyes. “You were very nice to me and saved me and are very cool and I didn’t thank you and you’re supposed to thank people for helping you and I forgot because Sir Will Suffice told Ms Anouilh that we can go and I was still a little scared from suddenly being no longer on the street and that’s why I came now to make it right!”

The man still looked a little surprised but now he seemed more relaxed and he was smiling and Patton really like this man’s smile. He really, really liked him.

“That is very kind of you, Patton. I feel honoured that you came all the way to my tiny quarters just to thank me,” the man said and Patton beamed at him.

Happily, Patton jumped on the spot and told the man: “It’s no problem! And I didn’t even thank you yet!”

The man chuckled as Patton stepped back and bowed before him and said: “Thank you very much for saving me yesterday, Mr …”

Patton looked up and frowned. The man tilted his head in question until he suddenly got what was most likely the problem.

“I have not even asked for your name! That’s very not polite of me!” Patton whined tears forming in his eyes.

Reacting quickly, the man shot forward and put his hand on Patton’s shoulder. He smiled at him and wrecked his brain of how to console him most efficiently and how he would explain to him that he was unable to tell him his name without upsetting the emotional kid any further.

Eventually the man settled: “It’s alright, Patton. I’m not hurt that you didn’t ask for my name. You had other very scary things in your mind and if I was you, I might have forgotten to ask something like that as well.”

Patton calmed a little and rubbed his eyes dry. He didn’t see it but the man gave him a proud look for calming down so quickly. Patiently, he waited for Patton to finish collecting himself until he was ready to finally ask: “So, can you tell me your name now, mister?”

The man bit his bottom lip. He could not lie to this child. He simply couldn’t give him a fake name.

“I really want to,” the man said a bit shaky, “but I can. Like I really, really can’t.”

Patton frowned adorably and shook his head.

“Do you not know your name then?”

“I do know my name.”

“But you cannot say it?”

“No, I cannot say it.”

Patton mused for a second.

“Can you write it down?”

The man thought for a moment as well.

“I don’t think so. Can you already read?”

“Not well, but I can read the letters of my name! There is a P, an A, two T’s, an O and an N! That's six letters because there are two T’s!” Patton explained excitedly and the man giggled.

And as the man giggled Patton had an idea.

“We could make up a name for you! Because everyone should have a name and making up things if fun!” Patton exclaimed and the man’s expression grew even softer.

“That’s a great idea, Patton. What name would you think should I have?”

Patton pressed his pointer finger against his forehead to make the thoughts come faster. With a serious expression he looked all over the man to find his first clue.

“You’ve got curly hair like me but it’s brown, which isn’t super rare though. So, we can’t call you Curly or Brown, I think.”

“Very well deducted.”

“Mhm. Soooo -” Patton looked into the man’s eyes and for the first time noticed their colour - “green! You’ve got very pretty green eyes! I like green second best after pink, so that would be a very good name, I think!”

A smile spread on the grownup’s face and at once he pulled Patton into his arms and quickly jumped to his feet, eliciting a joyful shout from the boy. With a big smile he tickled Patton’s belly and the boy giggled hysterically. Eventually, the man stopped torturing Patton and safely placed his arm under his butt and the other over the little boys back to hold him securely, as Patton slung his legs around the man’s waist and his arms around his neck.

“I really, really like that name, Patton. Thank you so much for giving me such a pretty name,” Green said and watched Patton look at him with stars in his eyes.

“You are welcome,” Patton said proudly. “And thank you for saving me yesterday Mr Green.”

Green pushed some of Patton’s curls out of his face and simply smiled. Something about this little kid in his arms made him inexplicably weak and he wanted nothing more than hold him tight in his arms.

“You don’t smell very nice.”

Green could not help but chuckle as he looked in Patton’s displeased little face and ruffled his hair. With a playful brow wiggle Green shook the boy before he put him back down on the floor.

“Well, apparently you were saved by a stinky old man, huh? What a bad luck you’ve got, kid!” Green joked but Patton did not look very amused.

In fact, Patton looked almost like he was going to chide Green any second now. And then he actually did chide him: “This is not funny Mr Green! You want to smell nice and look nice! It’s very important! You need to look after yourself!”

“Oh, it’s very important?” Green gently said and Patton nodded intently.

“Yes, it is! Mrs Rose, she takes care of us in the orphanage, always says that! It’s because people will like us better when we look proper and take care of ourselves and then we get a new home and maybe a softer bed and maybe, maybe goodnight kisses and hugs, so you need to go to the baths and clean yourself! It’s super important!”

Green blinked. He pressed his lips into a firm line, brows furrowing and inhaled slowly. Then his face relaxed again and he let himself sit down in the door frame while still looking down at Patton. At once Green was very tired and it took a toll on him to keep smiling but he did it anyway.

“I see, but I’m not supposed to leave this room, kid. Also, I haven’t been to a – the bathhouse here, so I don’t know where it is and what rules to follow,” Green explained patiently.

That statement did not seem to satisfy Patton. Before Green could ask what he was thinking, the little boy had turned around and ran towards one of the guards close to the stables and talked with them as he pointed towards Green. And just moments later Patton turned back around and ran to Green with very determined look in those little eyes.

“Get some spare clothes and your towel! Mrs Guard has allowed me to show you the baths because you are stinky and need a bath and because she trusts me because I am very reliable,” Patton announced.

Green gaped. He simply gaped at the audacity from little Patton. From this boy that was looking at him with the biggest eyes and more certainty than Green had felt in the last 48 hours combined. And in his surprise, he went to grab some clothes he had been given, a towel and then took Patton’s hand, who led him happily towards the baths. Idly chattering Patton talked to him and greeted whomever was passing them until they reached the bathhouse.

Green stopped. He didn’t know what to do next. He had seen this place many times from the outside but never from within. Everything was a lot right now and he felt overwhelmingly lonely and clueless in this moment.

“I can come with you if you want.”

The voice he heard came from his side and finally Green remembered Patton who was still holding his hand and looking up at him with these trustworthy eyes. This most likely should be the point where Green should have told Patton that it was fine and that he should go back to Ms Anouilh in the weaving mill. But he didn’t.

Instead, he squeezed Patton’s hand and said quietly: “That would be very nice of you, kid. I’m - I’m a bit lost on my own right now. But you don’t have to if you don’t want.”

Patton smiled and pulled Green behind himself while he answered and led them to the dressing room before the baths.

“Oh, I don’t like bath time a lot, but it’s always much funnier with others around and you are fun and I like to help, so this is fun too!”

The bath was mostly empty as it was early afternoon and most soldiers didn’t shower during that time, so Green and Patton could take their time. And they needed that as Patton explained exactly how Green needed to get in line, when many people wanted a bath and how to put away his dry clothes in one of the lockers so they didn’t get wet. He did all of it with much passion and Green had a good time as the kid and he undressed and went inside. Quietly, he made sure that Patton washed all the soap out of his hair when they had finished and helped him dry himself once they got back to put on their clothes.

Not once Patton stopped talking and not once Green felt alone again. It was no surprise to him anymore, when he asked Patton if he wanted a snack after helping him out, that the little boy agreed with a bright smile. And so, they went back into his little quarter and he found some eggs, salt, milk and pepper in his kitchenette to make them some scrambled eggs. Patton at first insisted that this was only breakfast food but came around quickly, when Green allowed him to turn on the stove and help him make sure that the frying pan got hot enough before they put the eggs inside the pan.

A couple of minutes later Patton and Green could sit down and eat their meal. Patton talked the whole way through, Green not thinking of reminding him to close his mouth when he was chewing. This kid seemed to have so much to talk about and he was more than willing to listen. And Green liked how his words filled the room and his head and his heart. He liked how he didn’t feel so forlorn with Patton around and he hoped that he did a good job of taking care of him in return. He did not want him to get used by him. He just wanted to see this tiny face be happy and the boy being save. It’s all he wanted. At least in that very moment.

As they finished, Green put their plates away and then went to wipe Patton’s face with a napkin he found in one of the drawers. Patton wasn’t that happy about it but soon forgave him, when he scooped him up from his chair and let him sit on the table as he hugged him tightly. For a moment Green was close to cry but it passed and he relished in the embrace Patton clearly enjoyed as well.

Tock, tock.

Green frowned and softly pulled out of their hug which caused Patton to whine a little. He shot him an apologizing look and went to the door. Subconsciously, he fixed his posture and opened it to meet the gaze with the guard, who had let Patton bring him to the bathhouse. He bowed his head and kept his mouth shut waiting for her words.

“I was sent by the Royal Advisor. I am here to inform you that you have passed your evaluation and will be instructed to your new duties first thing in the morning, if you wish to pursue the position,” she said firmly but not unkindly.

It took a moment for the information to settle. Janus and Logan had spoken and agreed to keep him around. It left him feeling so many things at once yet his face remained blank. He licked his lips slowly and nodded his head.

“Thank you for this chance. I will be ready in the morning to receive my instructions,” Green answered dutifully.

The guard raised her eyebrows and angled her head slightly. He mirrored her not quite knowing what her in thoughts were in the hopes he might maybe understand her through mimicking.

But it didn’t help him to anticipate the next thing she said: “So, you accept?”

“I- I don’t have much choice, do I? With no permit in a time where King Gerogy is a real bitch I have to accept any leniency that is shown to me.”

Green’s hand shot in front of his mouth. That was too direct. He shouldn’t have said that. Jan was right, he really needed to watch his words better, this would cost his head. This would mark the end of him.

And then it didn’t.

The guard laughed and she shook her head.

“You were given a choice without any attachments. You can deny or accept and will not face any form of punishment. It’s the king’s will.”

The king’s will.

How had Green ever doubted Logan?

Green bowed his head and felt Patton hold onto his leg as he came from behind. There was so much he needed to protect. So much that meant the world to him.

“Then I will be honoured to accept this position,” Green said and bowed deeply.

___

Link for AO3, Taglist, Masterlist, and next Chapters are in my first reblog!

#intrulogical #romantic roceit #remus sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #Never Met You #fantasy au #eir writes #please reblog

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hongism · 4 years

Text

mists of celeste ➻ twenty-three

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 6.2k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

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act three ➻ part five

Everything feels almost too calm. There is a sense of serenity surrounding the lake tonight, and you can’t place it, but you imagine it must have something to do with the man sitting cross-legged across from you. He bears white garments like you, soaked through on the bottoms, and you keep cracking an eye open to gauge his expression. His eyelids are pressed shut, but there’s no tension in his brow. Peace. He’s at peace. That’s not something you have felt all too often while here, so it’s strange to see Seonghwa that way. The stillness of his face gives you a chance to drag your gaze over his features; the sharp curve of his jaw, gentle slope of his nose and lips, and the long eyelashes that nearly brush against his cheeks.

“Close your eyes.” He catches you off-guard, mostly because his eyes are still shut when he says the words. You press your lips into a small frown, lower lip pouting out, but squeeze your eyes shut anyway. “There’s no reason to make a face.”

You dare to crack an eye open, finding Seonghwa’s gaze on you now.

“I’ve told you to focus four times now. You keep getting distracted. Do I need to wear a mask? Is my face that distracting?” Seonghwa teases. He lifts his chin a little as he blinks at you. His gaze is innocent, but you know he’s well aware of what he’s doing.

“What’s the point of all this again? Isn’t it taking away from our sleep?”

Seonghwa clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shakes his head ever so slightly.

“It’s the Dreamscape for a reason. Your body is resting even if your mind is awake in here, so technically, you’re still sleeping.”

You really wish there was some way to kick him in the real world. Maybe if you glare at him hard enough it’ll work—just a quick kick.

“Why are you giving me that face?”

“Hm?” You purse your lips and lift your brows, desperately trying to hide your growing smile. Seonghwa just huffs a sigh out in response, followed by another order to focus more.

You’re still smiling when you press your palms against the bed of the shallow lake. The pebbles underneath are smooth against your skin, and you almost lose yourself in the sensation when Seonghwa’s voice cuts through the air again.

“Imagine the water being pushed away from your hands. Don’t think of it as you doing the pushing, let the water do the work.”

Seonghwa makes it sound so easy, but the longer you sit there, the more you realize that absolutely nothing is going to happen. You only try for a couple of minutes before giving up and tugging your hands back out of the water.

“Maybe I’m not a Siren after all.”

Seonghwa releases a loud laugh, head falling back as he snorts towards the sky.

“Nice try. Don’t play coy, and try again. Most Sirens have the ability to do this.”

“Emphasis on most.”

“You seem to be above average. I mean, you’re above average in other… departments, so I’m sure it carries over.”

“Above average? Excuse you, I would like to think that I am far above average in other departments!”

“I was talking about sparring, princess. Where is your mind headed?”

“I hate you.”

“Sure you do. Now, come on. I just want to see how strong you are mentally because that’s what these abilities are based upon. It’s all psychic, not physical.”

“I’ve done it before… used whatever these abilities are. Changing something about my body, I don’t know what, but making bullets pass through me without hitting me? Only when my life is being threatened though.”

Seonghwa squints a bit at you. He is suspiciously quiet, and you’re about to question him when he stands up all of a sudden. He closes the distance between the two of you in an instant, fingers latching onto your throat. You choke at the impact and fall back to the rocks.

“Th-This isn’t as s-sexy as you think it is,” you mutter as you bring a hand up to grip Seonghwa’s wrist. Seonghwa lets another laugh loose, this one much quieter than the last, and his fingers tighten a tad.

“If your life has to be threatened just to see the extent of your powers, then I can do that.”

“G-God, you’re insufferable.” You aren’t sure why he would think that choking you is the best way to get you to focus, because all you can think about is how damn hard it is to breathe instead. Still, you press your palms flat against the rocks once more and desperately try to push the water away. It hits in that moment, a sense of familiarity and deja vu, and your mind slips back into a memory rather than the pull of the water on your fingertips.

The breath leaves your lungs, and you gasp for air, cradling your bleeding nose with careful fingers. Her knees drop onto your abdomen while her hands go for your throat. You try to swat her hands away from you with the bloodied hand, but she seems to have even more strength than before. You stretch a hand out to her sternum, trying to reach for the cloak over her skin. The lack of air is making your head spin though, and you can’t focus enough to use your abilities on her. Your fingers tremble and shake against her clothes.

Fucking… work. Come on. Just fucking phase.

Spots dance on the edge of your vision, and your hand falls to your side limply.

The last time you were in this position, you weren’t able to do anything. You couldn’t defend yourself. Your fingers tighten on the pebbles. Then the pressure of Seonghwa’s grip dissipates, and you jerk upwards, gasping for air.

“Good job!” His tone is bright and cheerful, like he didn’t just try to choke you into unconsciousness. You would laugh if you weren’t still attempting to catch your breath.

“Are you congratulating me on almost dying?”

“Oh hush, you’re fine. I barely choked you. You pushed the water away though. It didn’t last a long time, but that isn’t as important. You still managed to do it, which means you at least have the ability. Now we can move onto tr–”

“Hey! Hello, Y/N, are you there? Did I lose your brain somewhere?”

“Huh?” You speak before your brain catches up, the vivid memory of the previous night dissipating bit by bit until you remember that you are in fact awake and not still in the Dreamscape with Seonghwa. Long fingers snap in front of your face. You jolt a little and turn to the man at your side, his peach hair blending in a bit with the sky around his head.

“You’ve been off in la-la land for a while now,” Yunho chuckles. His smile is soft as he looks down at you, and you can almost sense a cheeky comment coming, so you speak before he has the chance.

“I was lost in thought and thinking of other things, that’s all,” you say through a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“That much is obvious, but there’s no need to be sorry.”

You pull your stare off Yunho and glance around the little marketplace again. San isn’t with the two of you today – something about staying back to help Jongho and Mingi run some maintenance checks on the ship – but you aren’t alone. Wooyoung and Yeosang came along today, and you can only be grateful that Yeosang is too preoccupied with Wooyoung to sling insults your way. The pair keeps a significant distance from you and Yunho; they walk along the row of stalls on the other side of the street, Wooyoung’s arm linked through Yeosang’s. He has something in his hand, though you can’t tell what it is from this distance. All you can see is Wooyoung wrapping said item around Yeosang’s wrist, then a clear and bright laugh falls from his lips, one you can hear from across the road. Yeosang smiles down at the action, teeth flashing, and the action looks so foreign on Yeosang’s features that you glare at the man a little.

“Damn, I’ve never seen someone look so bitter at the sight of happiness,” Yunho snorts, drawing your attention back to him. A scoff slips past your lips.

“It’s not like that. I just don’t understand Yeosang.” Yunho seems to understand what you mean, nodding slightly as he hums in response. His gaze trails over to where Wooyoung and Yeosang stand.

“Yeosang is complicated and hard to understand. You shouldn’t take it personally. He hates everyone at first, then he continues to act like he hates them to save face and seem tough. Plus, he’s bitter that you’re a better shot than he is. His pride is weak in that regard. Besides, no one is as close as Yeosang and Wooyoung are. They’re basically family at this point, had no one but each other for a long time before joining the crew. They bring out the best in each other, so of course, Wooyoung will bring out the softer side of Yeosang.”

You don’t respond, just letting a sigh slip through, and Yunho smiles a bit at your reply or lack thereof. He comes to a sudden halt and releases a noise of surprise. For a moment, you think that something has happened to either Yeosang or Wooyoung, but Yunho is faced in the opposite direction, towards a small stall.

“Y/N, Y/N, come here!” He ushers you closer to the stall, hand around your bicep, and points down at something that looks like a plant. “They have hyacinth root! It’s extremely rare. I’m surprised that they have it. Excuse me – could we have a handful of your hyacinth roots?”

“What’s so important about a root?” You inquire as the person behind the stall begins to pick out a few of the plants.

“You can crush them up with peppermint leaves to create a paste that, when consumed, will slow your heart rate but keep you alive. It makes you seem dead when in actuality, you aren’t. It typically lasts between seven and ten minutes. Good for getaways or dupes.”

“Have you ever used it before?”

“Once, yeah. Hongjoong had a mission somewhere in the Yuki system, but it was so long ago that I can’t really remember where we were. Not too long after I joined the crew actually. Hongjoong came to me with the root and told me to make the concoction. That was the first I’d heard of it. It’s always handy to keep a few around in case of emergencies, especially since they’re hard to come by, but I haven’t been able to find any for quite some time now.” You watch Yunho quietly exchange money with the vendor and take the bag of roots. He pulls away from the stall after a few moments and softly spoken thanks.

The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable in any sense, but your thoughts won’t quiet down enough to let you relax. Every lingering stare from the townspeople makes you second-guess yourself, and they aren’t exactly shy about looking at you or Yunho as they walk past.

“Hey, I have a question,” you say after a few minutes. “I talked with Jongho about it before, but I wanted to ask about Mingi. From your perspective, is it… is it possible to undo the mental conditioning he went through?” Part of you is genuinely curious about Mingi’s condition and what Yunho thinks about it, but you’re also asking for yourself. If it were up to you, you would erase every lingering touch of the military and push it all out of your mind. If Yunho knows of a way to do that, then you want it.

“It’s very possible,” Yunho hums. “Just like undoing what the military did to you.” You open your mouth to protest, but there’s no use because Yunho just shifts and smiles at you. The smile is knowing and understanding, like he’s picked your brain apart in seconds. “Everything is reversible except for death, right? Mingi is just a tough nut to crack. He wants to learn and understand emotions, but he doesn’t want to let go of what tethers him to the part of him that misunderstands and can’t process emotions like you or me. He wants to abandon his title as the Brute of Kebos, but he doesn’t want to completely lose that part of him. It’s a hard dichotomy to dissect. Hating yourself but clinging to what makes you the thing you hate. Not once have I ever heard him call himself the Brute of Kebos. So… I think that the only way to break him loose of those chains is to have something like a rebirth. A rebirth of the Brute of Kebos, a new version, one different than the last.”

“Why isn’t he allowed off the ship? Is it because we’re on Kebos? Is Hongjoong worried that there will be another incident?”

Yunho freezes, head snapping towards you so fast that it looks painful. His lips part, but no sound comes out for several seconds.

“How do you know about that?”

“I-I – uh, Jongho just m-mentioned it. He didn’t tell me anything, only that there was an incident.” Yunho’s hand closes tight around your arm again, this time much more painful than the last. It almost burns, and you had no idea that Yunho was this strong until now.

“You shouldn’t ask about it,” he hisses out through gritted teeth. You’ve never seen this expression on his face, this gleam in his eyes. He doesn’t seem angry in the slightest, and that’s what sends your thoughts into a scramble. Merely sad. “That’s between you and Hongjoong if you want to talk about it, and it’s on him to tell you about it.”

“O-Okay, yeah, um, I’ll drop it,” you stammer out, averting your eyes, so you don’t have to see Yunho’s pained expression any longer. “We can… we can try to confront a bit of my trauma now like – like you’d wanted to do.” Yunho’s hand falls away from your arm, but the ache continues to reside, and you bring your other hand up to rub at the skin there. Yunho notices your movements, expression falling into guilt. “Yunho?” You press, desperate to just change the damn subject now.

“Y-Yeah, sorry, let’s get started. First, can you tell me some things that comfort you? Things to think about if you’re feeling panicked or anxious? A sight, smell, taste, sound, feel.”

A soft-sided grin, rounded cheeks, and bright eyes. You don’t even ask for the image to come to mind, yet it does as soon as Yunho mentions comfort. You’re frantic as you try to push the thought away and replace it with something else that comforts you, but everything you think of surrounds Jisung.

“Um, the stars on a clear night.”

Jisung.

“The smell of cherry wood and sugar.”

Jisung.

“Sound of fire crackling.”

Jisung.

“The feel of a-a rough hand in – in mine.”

Jisung.

“The taste of honey… and vanilla on soft lips.”

Jisung.

Your voice trails off and dies in a whisper. The heat of Yunho’s stare is on you. Out the corner of your eye, you spot the barest hint of a smile on his lips, but it disappears when he speaks again, tone quieter to match yours.

“Think about the last time you were here. Do you remember it?”

Vague. It’s vague and foggy. A cold night. Stars. Warm fire. Even warmer next to him.

“Y-Yes.” You nod.

“Can you recall it for me? It doesn’t have to be detailed; you can only tell me if you want. Whatever you want to tell me and are comfortable telling me.”

“I last came here with a friend on business. One of my teammates, someone in my unit. Just the two of us.”

“Three constellations. The ones I taught you last time. Come on! If you name them all, I’ll give you something.” Jisung’s laugh is clear as it rings through the air, so loud and bright that it could dispel every cloud in the sky.

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna give me?” You roll your eyes ever so slightly. Only enough for Jisung to see it and scoff at your gesture, and he sits up to hit your arm with the back of his hand. You laugh, hair sprawled out across the ground. Jisung hesitates there. His expression melts, and his gaze is so gentle and full of emotion that you feel a deep pang in your chest. “S-Stop looking at me like that. It’s weird.”

Jisung doesn’t respond right away; instead, he leans down over you and blocks your view of the sky. All you see in that moment is him. You exhale, breath fogging in the air between you, and Jisung dips in to press his lips against yours. Soft lips. The taste of honey and vanilla. Stars hanging high in the sky. Jisung’s calloused hand reaching out and finding yours. Cherry wood and sugar on your nose. A fire crackling behind you.

“I decided to betray the military on that trip. I thought it would protect him. That I was doing it for him. He hated the military more than anything, but it was the only thing he – we had. I thought I could dismantle them on my own. I was so stupid and foolish to think that I could.”

“Has this all been for him then? The papers as well?”

“No. No, the papers were for someone else. The friend I came here with is still alive, at least I think he is. I haven’t – haven’t seen him or heard from him in three years.”

“Who are the papers for then?” Yunho’s tone isn’t pressing; it’s hesitant and cautious, yet it somehow still urges you to answer.

“I lost someone the night I killed the king. That’s who the papers are for.” You dare to glance up at Yunho. Maybe it’s an attempt to see if there’s disgust or hatred on his face, but his brows are furrowed and sloped with concern instead. His lips part to say something in response. A loud shout interrupts him before he gets the chance though. The two of you whip around to find the source of the sound. It’s Wooyoung, hand raised high in the air as he drags Yeosang along with him and approaches you and Yunho.

“Hey! We need to go!” Wooyoung says, tone loud even when he gets close to you. “Lieutenant just called me over the comms. He said we need to get back to the ship as fast as possible.”

“Did something happen?” Yunho asks, but Wooyoung merely shakes his head.

“Don’t know. He didn’t say. He sounded mad though.”

“Shit, let’s go then.” Yunho is quick to spin on his heel and start walking back the way you came. To your surprise, Yeosang pulls away from Wooyoung to fall into step with Yunho instead, and you stay back with Wooyoung.

“He really didn’t explain anything?” You ask, tilting your head to look at the dark-haired man. Wooyoung purses his lips.

“No, he didn’t. But if he’s upset, then that means Captain is going to be a nightmare to deal with.”

“You think?”

“I know it. When Seonghwa is this mad, Hongjoong is always ten times worse.” Wooyoung turns away, bringing a hand up to rub at the skin under his collar, and you watch the movements with nervous eyes.

“H-Has he–”

“No.” Wooyoung doesn’t let you finish the thought, but he seems to know what’s on your mind. He drops his hand to his side again. “He’s never hurt me, and he never will. It just reminds me of my previous own–captains. My previous captains. I don’t do well when any of the crew gets upset or angry because of that.”

“O-Oh,” you exhale. It almost sounds like a noise of relief. Wooyoung doesn’t push the conversation further, and neither do you, so the two of you trail after Yeosang and Yunho in silence until you reach the hangar where the ship resides.

Seonghwa is waiting for you there, just outside the airlock. Wooyoung was correct – he looks upset based upon the way the muscles in his face are tightened and drawn together, but also because of his rigid posture.

“You all need to go to the bridge immediately,” he says, not waiting for you to get close before speaking.

“Can’t I drop this off first?” Yunho asks as he lifts his satchel off his hip.

“It wasn’t a recommendation, Yunho. It was a command. Bridge, now.”

Yunho doesn’t even try to argue. He dips his head and follows Yeosang onto the ship. You and Wooyoung move to do the same, but Seonghwa catches Wooyuong by the arm as he’s climbing the stairs to the airlock.

“Are you alright? Did anyone bother you in the town?” Seonghwa’s tone slips back to its regular warmth and soft concern.

“Yeah, I’m okay. No one bothered me.”

Seonghwa offers a small nod, tongue darting out to moisten his lips before he lets Wooyoung continue onto the ship. The lieutenant falls into step with you as you climb the stairs behind Wooyoung, but he doesn’t speak at all.

“What? You’re not gonna ask me if I’m okay?” You inquire, tone teasing and light. Seonghwa doesn’t respond with his regular mirth or teasing though.

“I know you can handle yourself just fine,” he mutters back.

“What’s going on?”

“Hongjoong is upset.”

“Why?” Wooyoung asks, turning around to face the two of you. Seonghwa clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, shaking his head back and forth a bit.

“Eavesdropping is bad.”

“Have I ever really been good though?” Wooyoung lets out a quiet laugh and rubs the back of his neck. It’s meant to be a lighthearted joke, probably to get Seonghwa to loosen up a little, but Seonghwa doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest.

“The lead died.”

“Did the trail die or the Siren?” Wooyoung asks, hand falling away from his neck as his expression grows more serious. A sigh slips past Seonghwa’s lips.

“The lead who was supposed to be here has been dead for thirty years. It was bad information and a dupe to cover tracks.”

“Oh…” Wooyoung’s mood deflates before your eyes. His shoulders slump forward a little, and he faces forward again. Seonghwa frowns at his back before continuing to speak to you.

“Hongjoong is furious. It would be best if we all just bite our tongues no matter what so he doesn’t lash out.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Wooyoung murmurs. Something about the whole situation doesn’t feel quite right though, nor does it sit well with you. You harden your gaze on Seonghwa.

“Is it really true? About the Siren?”

“Why do you think I would lie to Wooyoung?” Seonghwa barely shifts to look at you, a sharp glare that makes his face almost unrecognizable landing on you. His eyes and tone are colder than they’ve ever been with you, and it’s enough to make you regret even opening your mouth. You near the bridge feeling worse than before, Seonghwa’s angered presence lingering at your side as he continues to walk alongside you.

Actually stepping onto the bridge somehow makes your heart plummet further. The air is tenser than you can imagine, and you’re bringing up the rear with Seonghwa apparently, because everyone else already stands in front of the captain’s chair looking both uncomfortable and nervous. You round the edge of the chair to find Hongjoong sitting there. He seems calm more than anything else, hair a new shade of blue and laying loosely over his forehead. It makes him seem younger and more innocent, but the gleam in his eyes shows how furious he truly is. Seonghwa moves to stand beside him, whereas you hurry to stand alongside Wooyoung.

“During one of our meetings today, a captain of one of our allied crews showed us some obituaries and news reports concerning the Siren we were led to believe was here. That Siren has apparently been dead for nearly thirty years. The lead I was given was a dupe, which means that my information broker is a traitor and working for someone else.” Hongjoong somehow manages to maintain a steady and flat tone. His nostrils flare a bit with each word, so it’s evident that he’s on the brink of letting the anger slip through.

You glance down the line of the crew to find Jongho and Mingi, gauging their reactions to Hongjoong’s spike in anger. Jongho seems to be just fine; his expression is blank, and he looks at Hongjoong like nothing is wrong. Mingi, on the other hand, can’t stop shifting his weight from foot to foot. His brows are so closely knit that you can barely see the skin between them, and he won’t look up from the floor. You aren’t the only one who notices the discomfort Mingi is going through. Seonghwa tilts his head towards Hongjoong, speaking quietly, but thanks to the silence lingering over the rest of the bridge, you all can hear his words loud and clear.

“Calm down.”

It’s the wrong thing to say apparently, because Hongjoong pushes up from his seat and stares Seonghwa down like the man just shot him.

“Why should I calm down when we’re running out of fucking time?” Hongjoong yells, voice booming through the room in a shocking way. “When we’ve been wasting time on a damn false lead because we were betrayed yet again? What part of me should be fucking calm then? How long until someone fucking sells us out?” He expects an answer from Seonghwa, but the man doesn’t provide one. Instead, he huffs air through his teeth and steps closer to Hongjoong. His fingers close around the collar of Hongjoong’s long brown coat, tugging him forward just enough to hiss his next words in the captain’s face.

“You should be calm because Mingi is present.” Seonghwa pushes Hongjoong away from him, and the shorter man falls back to his chair with little to no reaction. He looks down at the floor, avoiding everyone’s wide-eyed stares while Seonghwa turns to address the crew.

“Everyone is dismissed,” he states, tone as flat as he can manage. Yunho is the first to move, then Yeosang, who places a hand on Wooyoung’s hip and guides him off the bridge. Jongho follows without a word, yet Mingi doesn’t move. He hasn’t budged one bit, still in the same position he was in before. “Everyone is dismissed, Mingi. That includes you.”

The sharply spoken command spurs Mingi to move. He nods once, but the movement is stilted and awkward, before following Jongho off the bridge. You find yourself in a similar position to the one Mingi was just in. Your feet don’t want to move, and you can’t get yourself to even turn your head away from Seonghwa and Hongjoong. The lieutenant shifts to look at you. Your heart pounds against the confines of your ribcage. A hand brushes your lower back, and you nearly jump out of your skin because you hadn’t seen anyone come up behind you. San blinks back at you, nudging you forward a little. You take the hint and let him guide you off the bridge.

“You looked scared shitless,” he mutters once you’re out of earshot of Hongjoong and Seonghwa.

“Just a bit surprised,” you whisper back.

“We don’t see Hongjoong like that often. In fact, it’s been well over a year since he seemed that angry.” San doesn’t elaborate past that. You don’t ask him too either, too caught up in the thought of Hongjoong’s unprecedented anger. San’s hand stays on your back throughout the walk back to your rooms, but you don’t speak. It leaves you alone with your thoughts, which are a jumbled mess of confusion at this point between all that’s happened today.

And at the forefront of it all? Jisung.

You just want to pour your heart out to someone and get it all off your chest, everything you remember starting from the minute you joined the military up until the assassination of the king. You want to get it off your chest; you’re sick of bottling it up and not being able to talk about it. You don’t know why you’re thinking that way all of a sudden. You’ve spent so long thinking about yourself and how you can’t be vulnerable or weak in front of anyone. The hand on your back remains. The slightest pressure against your skin, guiding you and pushing you forward. It’s merely driving you down the corridor, yet it feels like more than that. San could’ve moved his hand at any point, but he didn’t, and you only realize why when you reach the door to your room.

He wants to comfort you. To show you that he is here for you even if you fail to realize it.

As his hand slips away from your back, you twist and catch his wrist between your fingers. San blinks at you with wide eyes.

“I t-think – I think I’m ready to tell you about my past in the military,” you spit out in a rush. It’s a miracle you only stuttered a couple of times because your heart is pounding and making your heart rate accelerate.

“You don’t have to,” San whispers, obviously caught off-guard. “I don’t want you to feel like I expect that from you. Because I don’t. I meant what I said yesterday.”

“I know, I know. I just – I want to trust you. I mean, I trust you. I do. I trust you, and I want to trust you with this as well.”

San’s face melts into a soft smile. “Okay. Is it alright if I come in?” He motions towards your door, and you nod quickly, tapping at the keypad to let him in. He waits for you to step through the door first then follows you to the bed. He sits as far away from you as he can without falling off the mattress, hand pressed to the comforter between you. You expected some level of awkwardness or tension to come from this conversation. While you’re panicked and nervous about exposing this part of you, San’s warm and intense gaze does nothing but ease your worries.

“You… you don’t really know much about me aside from the fact that I killed the King of Eros, and that I’m trying to pardon someone.” You bring your hands into your lap, tugging at the skin around your thumbnail to avoid looking at San. “I joined the military at 14.”

“Recruit number seventeen. Name and age?” A cold tone that tears through your skin and confidence with its iciness, and yet you pull your shoulders back and stand up a little straighter.

“L/N Y/N, age 14.”

“I think th-that something happened then because I can’t remember my life before going to the recruitment office. I don’t know if they… if they did something to me or – I just don’t know, but I wasn’t fit to be a recruit. They took me anyway because they needed recruits. I was small and weak. I got injured more often than other people, and no one ever tried to help me because I was a runt. I was thrown into a small unit of only six people. All of us were young and misfits, kids who didn’t fit the military mold, and they never expected much from us.”

“Alright, we’re the mess of recruits, okay? They lumped us together because they think we’ll fail, but we won’t! So we gotta prove them wrong, little lady. Understood?” The boy jabs his thumb at his chest as he says the words, smile falling to emphasize his serious tone. You nod several times in response.

“The only thing I was ever good at was shooting. So… I dedicated everything I had to being the best at shooting. It paid off, of course. They never moved me from my team though, because no other commander wanted me in their unit, but I shot up in ranks and quickly became known for being the best sniper in the division. Somehow that turned into being the best shooter in the military of Eros. I never wanted that title, and I never wanted them to like me. I don’t know why I joined in all honesty. They must’ve taken that away from me when I joined, but eventually it became a desire to protect my team. They became my family. Then I ruined it. I stole some classified documents that could’ve destroyed the military from the inside out, but I got caught. Branded a traitor and stuck in jail for what I did. They weren’t going to kill me then though. One of my friends came to visit me in jail and promised to fix things.”

“Jisung.” You glance at the man, his face slightly shrouded by the steel bars between you. “Jisung, I–”

“I thought we were gonna work through this together, Y/N.” The stinging of his disappointment almost hurts worse than the brand on the inside of your wrist. If you could twist them, you would, but the cuffs around your wrists prevent you from doing so.

“I know…” You can’t finish your train of thought.

“I, uh, I don’t know what I was going to say. I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m sorry, Jisung.”

“Four years. I don’t want it to end like this.” Jisung shakes his head a little bit.

“They aren’t going to kill me. Just – just the brand a-and being kicked out of the military.”

“I’m going to fix this, Y/N. They can’t – this isn’t right. I won’t let them do this.”

“Jisung, you can’t – they – the damage is already done.”

“Then they’ll have to kill me. I won’t let them do this. Not to you, Y/N. You can’t ask me to sit on the sidelines this time.”

“Once I was let out, they expected me to leave and never come back. That’s what I was planning to do, but I found out that one of my teammates told the king that he had organized everything. The theft, the plans to dismantle the military, even claimed that he plotted to kill the king. It wasn’t true at the time, but it didn’t matter. He earned a public execution sentence for it. Because of me. Because I thought I could fix things and make it better for my team. Instead, I got our leader killed. They all blamed me except for one, and that was almost worse. I would’ve rather had them all hate me than have one defend me. They all left Eros as soon as they could. Didn’t even wait for the execution. I stayed and went back to the palace where the execution was being held with the intention of stopping it. I was going to shoot the king before they killed my friend. I thought it was meant to be penance for what I caused. To take away the guilt I was feeling and redeem myself. Then they killed him, and I was too late. I hesitated. He died. So I killed the king and left. I should’ve taken my gun with me, but I left it. I was t-too emotional to remember to grab it. They picked up the traces of my fingerprints and traced it back to me. So yeah… there’s my sob story.”

You exhale shakily. Now that it’s all out there, you feel light and airy. Almost like you’re floating, but not in a good or happy way. Next thing you know, San is pulling you against his chest, and your face collides with his shoulder as he wraps a hand around the back of your head. The action causes a choked sob to slip out. Neither of you were expecting the sound, and you didn’t even feel the tears in your eyes until San pulled you against him. Shaky hands move to grip the back of his shirt.

“I know you still blame yourself,” he murmurs against your hair. “I can tell. At some point, you have to face the truth though, Y/N. And the truth is that you did not make those choices for whoever your friend was. He made those choices, and he alone made them. It sounds like he made them because he cared about you as much as you cared about him. Enough to die for you.”

“B-But I… I didn’t – I didn’t die for him. I should’ve told the truth. I should’ve sacrificed myself. I d-didn’t,” you cry, blinking against San’s shoulder.

“You did sacrifice for him. That’s not something that you should blame yourself for because it’s not your fault. I’ll remind you of that every single day if I have to. Until you believe it.”

“W-Why?”

“Because it’s what you deserve, Y/N. It’s what you deserve.”

✧✧✧ a/n: ahahsdfjkhaskjdfs im late but here oh my god i didn’t expect it to take so long i even cut 1k out of the outline and moved it to shorten yet aslfidjiosdfj here we are welp anyway i hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think of this one 🤧

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ithebookhoarder · 3 years

Text

Chapter 19: In Sickness and in Health (The Gangster’s Daughter)

Description: Life for Tommy Shelby was pretty ordinary; all he ever had to worry about were his family, their business and the Blinders. Nothing more, nothing less. Well, that was until his ‘daughter’, a twelve-year-old girl called Evelyn Westmore, was thrown into his life, dredging up feelings and things from the past he’d done very well to forget.

Also available on AO3:

Warnings: Original Character(s), Canon-Typical Violence, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Explicit Language, Gangsters, Period Typical Attitudes, Parent Tommy Shelby, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent.

Masterlist:

----

The next morning was when Evie finally learned the definition of a hangover. A real hangover. Like, Arthur after a night at the Garrison hangover.

She had barely been conscious a minute before she realised her head was pounding. It was as if someone was driving a hammer into her skull over and over again.

She didn’t dare open her eyes, knowing instantly the pain was going to be too much.

“Fuck,” she whined, pushing her face into her pillow, wondering if by some miracle she could go back to sleep. Of course, it was clear that wasn’t going to happen. Not when she also currently felt like she was suffering from the worst case of sea sickness known to human kind. It made her stomach churn uneasily, and she could feel her whole body shaking.

Evie groaned, weakly turning over to try and sit up in bed. She knew for a fact that her hair was most likely a hell of mess, and the fact her breath felt like acid left her heavily confused.

She honestly had no idea what the hell had happened to her, or why the hell she felt the way she did. It was as if someone had scrubbed her mind so clean it was raw. There was a huge chunk of time missing from her mind from the night before.

What the hell happened?

With a sigh, she peeled back the covers and began to brave her way down to the kitchen below.

Tommy, needless to say, was waiting in the main room, a paper spread out in front of him and a cup of tea in hand. John was also in the kitchen, Arthur beside him as they scoffed their way through the food in front of them - courtesy of Polly.

The woman truly was an angel.

Her father glanced up as he heard Evie enter, only to start laughing at her miserable face. He was enjoying this; she could tell. If she’d had any strength she’d probably have tried to wipe that smile off his face. But she didn’t. She merely shuffled in, sat in the nearest chair and let out a small moan at the fresh smell of food in the air.

“Why do I have bulls stamping on my brain?”

“Because you thought it was a smart idea to challenge Johnny boy here, to a pissing contest,” Tommy remarked calmly, hiding his grin behind his paper. It was clear from his windswept hair and the smell of soot about him he’d been up sometime, already venturing out into the city. How he got the resilience, Evie could never explain.

“What?”

“Which I won, by the way,” John protested, looking unfairly healthy as he helped himself to his breakfast. The smell alone was enough to make Evie want to empty her stomach everywhere.

“But she gave an admirable attempt,” Arthur heckled. “Worthy of the Shelby name I’d say. Almost drank a bottle of her own before she keeled over. Not bad for a slip of a thing.”

Evie groaned, dropping her face down into her hands. “I hate you all.”

“So you don’t want some hot coffee then?” Polly chuckled, placing the cup down in front of her. “Drink that. It’ll help.”

Evie took her at her word, all but downing the steaming drink, praying it helped in some way. “Why do you all drink so much if this how you feel afterwards?”

“You learn your limits,” her father chided. “You build up an immunity too.”

“Clearly I didn’t inherit your Shelby skill.”

“No, but you have determination,” Tommy chuckled. “Clearly you’ve had good teachers.”

“Or bad influences,” Polly countered, turning to glare at her nephews.

“One day, she’ll look back on this and laugh.”

“Not anytime soon, by the looks of her.”

Evie groaned all over again. “I’m right here. You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not - actually, better yet, why doesn’t everyone whisper?”

“PARDON?”

Evie was half way out of her seat and ready to murder Arthur in a heartbeat. It was only Polly’s warning glare that stopped her. That, and the sudden nausea caused by moving so fast.

“Sit down,” her aunt scoffed, placing a plain piece of buttered toast in front of her. “Eat that and then go back to bed. You’ll feel better. I promise. This lot will be gone soon.”

“Sooner the better,” Evie grumbled half heartedly, even though she didn’t mean it. Still, John clearly got the hint and took that as his cue to excuse himself from the meal.

“Right,” John grinned, donning his cap. “I’m off to the garage. Be back in a bit, yeah? Meeting Lizzie so she can cook.” The others nodded, murmuring various acknowledgements as he slipped out into the street.

“I have business too,” Arthur grinned, rising from his seat and patting Evie’s shoulder as he did so. “Just sleep it off, ey? And don’t drink anything Polly gives you. You’d rather die on your own terms than have one of her miracle cures.”

“Oi!”

Arthur sniggered, leaping out of the doorway as Polly rose to slap the smile off of his face. Still, Evie took his word for it. She loved her aunt but she had a suspicion Arthur knew what he was on about. Especially judging by the slightly queazy look on her father’s face.

“The bloody cheek.”

“Leave him, Pol,” Tommy soothed. “He isn’t worth it."

“I wish I’d let Evie rip his throat out now.”

“Oh, there’s still time. Maybe later.”

Evie chuckled under breath. She’d hold him to that. For now, though, she was content to simply make her way through the plate of buttered toast and endless mugs of coffee Polly put before her. “Thank you,” she beamed, watching as Polly kissed her head before helping herself to her own breakfast.

That was how they stayed for the next half hour or so. Once they’d finished, Evie took the plates and went to wash up as a gesture of her gratitude. It also left her father and Polly alone, both of whom had been shooting odd looks at one another to the point where Evie almost wanted to call them out on it.

If they had something to say, they should just say it… unless they didn’t want her to hear?

So, she gave them space, washing dishes and listening to their soft voices echoing through the open doorway.

Evie didn’t need to hear more than the words ‘talk’ and ‘Lizzie’ to know what this was about. It had only been days since John had told her he was thinking of asking Lizzie to marry him. Evie still didn’t know how she felt about it, even though she wanted John happy and she liked Lizzie well enough. However, by the sounds of it, she didn’t have to worry about it any longer.

“Fuck,” Pol muttered. “You gonna tell him? Or am I?”

“I will.”

“Tell him what?” Evie asked slowly.

She couldn’t help it any longer. Her curiosity was greater than her fear of being scolded for eavesdropping. Besides, it was hardly like this conversation was that private. Else, they’d have taken it to the offices on the other side of the shop floor if they hadn’t want to be overheard.

She simply stepped into the doorway and waited for an answer.

Tommy sighed. He blew out a thin stream of smoke and looked at Pol. The look between them was enough for them to understand one another.

Polly blinked. “That leopards never change their spots.”

Just like that, Evie felt even sicker - something she hadn’t thought possible. It didn’t take a genius to work out what Polly was referring to. Part of her hoped she was wrong though, that her father and aunt hadn’t conspired to break John’s heart.

She watched her father go and turned back towards the stairs. All she wanted now was to crawl into bed and sleep the remainder of the headache away. “Fuck.”

It appeared she wasn’t the only one who would be suffering that day.

--------

Thankfully, after a hot bath, plenty of coffee and a long sleep, Evie felt almost as good as new. She didn’t even mind the fact her father decided to wake her the following morning, ripping open the curtains and letting the morning sunshine burst into the room.

“Rise and shine, Evelyn.”

Evie groaned, pulling the pillow over her head in a vain attempt to block his voice out. “What’s the smile for?”

“Get dressed and you’ll find out.”

As if the shock of seeing her father in her room wasn’t enough to peak her interest, his proposition definitely did the trick. Evie was alert instantly. She couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d woken her up, let alone in such an odd mood.

She tried not to laugh as he tugged the covers off of her, doing his best as she clung on for dear life. Playful Tommy was rare. She half expected a cold bucket of water over the head or for him to be banging pans together instead.

“Dad,” Evie whined, surrendering and sitting upright. “What the hell is going on?”

“As I say, get dressed and come downstairs. We’ve got somewhere to be,” her father explained, gesturing to the dresser in the corner of the room.

To her utter surprise, a dress was already laid out and waiting for her - a beautiful sky blue dress, but one she’d never seen before.

Had he bought it for her?

“Polly picked it our for you so don’t keep her waiting,” he continued, as if sensing her questions. However, he gave her no more opportunities to ask them as he turned and left her to get ready for the absurd day ahead of them.

Evie couldn’t even begin to process it all. What had just happened? Was she still dreaming?

She managed to pry herself from her bed and wander over towards the dress. A single touch of the silky fabric was enough to prove this wasn’t a dream. This was very very real… and very expensive.

“Damn it, Pol,” she sniggered, reminding herself to talk to her aunt about wasting money on her like this. Whilst she absolutely adored the garment in front of her, she also knew they couldn’t really afford it.

Nevertheless, she’d learned a long time ago when to pick a battle with the Shelby family and when to simply go along with their wishes. This was definitely one of those times to go with the latter option. So, she stripped herself of her nightclothes and began to get ready for the day, washing away the sleep from her eyes in the washbasin and tidying her hair as best she could.

A few minutes more and she was ready. One final look in the mirror confirmed as much.

She slipped on her shoes and grabbed her coat, hurrying downstairs as fast as she was able. If her father was as excited as he’d seemed about today then she knew better than to keep him waiting. Even if she was nervous about what lay ahead, Evie couldn’t help but be a little excited too. However, as she hurried into the parlour, she was surprised to see it empty.

Her father was no where to be seen.

“What the hell?” she whispered.

That was when the door opened. That was when the last two people she’d expected to come strolling through together, did just that, grinning ear to ear.

“Polly what on earth is going o-” Evie began. She stopped, however, the moment she laid eyes on the woman next to her. “Ada?”

Like that, she was upon her, hurling herself at her aunt in disbelief. The heavily pregnant woman didn’t mind though, laughing as she cradled her back, peppering kisses to her cheeks.

“Oh my god. I’m glad to see you.”

“I missed you too,” Ada whispered. “It’s been too long.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Tommy invited her,” Polly smirked, visibly touched by the scene. “Family should be together on days like this one. We have a one day truce, thank god. I love a good wedding.”

“A wedding?”

She wasn’t the only one confused. Ada looked as bewildered as she felt. However, Evie finally took a moment to properly examine the moment. It was then she realised they were all dressed impeccably, with fine dresses and coats. Polly even had a hat on, something she saved for church or special occasions. How Evie had missed it was beyond her. Clearly, she was getting rusty.

“Apparently.”

“Whose?”

“I thought it was obvious,” Polly chuckled. “So, shall we go? Otherwise we’ll miss the bloody thing… I never thought I’d see the day John Shelby re-married. To a Lee of all things.”

Wait.

John.

This was John’s wedding?

To a Lee girl?

Not Lizzie?

Evie blinked. She froze and stared at the woman in disbelief. “You’re fucking joking? Right?”

Both Ada and Polly shook their heads. “It was your father’s idea,” Polly explained, adjusting her hat in the mirror before opening the door and ushering them towards the car. “It was a deal proposed by the Lees. Tommy agreed on John’s behalf. Kill two birds with one stone.”

Evie had a suspicion someone would be killed if that really was the case. “Does John know?”

“They’ll have told him by now.”

“Fuck. Now I see why they all left together.”

It took an army to make a Shelby do something they didn’t want to do. John especially. Evie felt bad at the thought. What if he didn’t want this? Why was her family forcing him into this? Was it too late to stop it?

Then again, her father loved his family more than life itself. He wouldn’t do it if he didn’t have John’s approval or hadn’t meticulously thought this whole thing out. Had he even met the bride to be?

Evie sighed. Why were Shelby weddings always so complicated? At least this one wasn’t in secret, a fact she was grateful for as she turned to her aunt and took her hand. The fact she was here beside her already made her feel ten times better.

“Freddie not with you?”

Ada shook her head. “No, but it’s alright. I’m… I’m glad to see everyone.”

“We’re glad to see you too,” Polly hummed, kissing both Ada and Evie’s cheeks. “Now. Stop nattering and get in. We have a wedding to get to and I don’t want to miss this for the world.”

The girls didn’t need to be told twice. They knew an order when they heard it. They had a wedding to get to after all. John’s wedding… God help them all.

---------

The ceremony was brief but pleasant. Even her father and Ada seemed to be getting on, grinning and teasing one another as Jonny completed the ritual, standing in front of the crowd gathered in the shipping yard the Lees currently called home.

Evie had never been to a gypsy wedding before. Not one like this, with so much colour and excitement for what was usually quite a somber ceremony according to the church she was used to. Yes, Esme - her newest relative - was wearing white as she made her way down the aisle, but that was pretty much where the resemblance ended. After all, when had church ever involved the use of a knife before? … or real blood?

Evie had clearly been going to the wrong services.

“That’s the mingling of the two bloods. Where two families become one family,” Jonny explained, grinning ear to ear as Esme and John clasped hands together. The look on their faces said it all. “I now pronounce you, man and wife! Go on John, kiss the bride, will you?”

The cheer was instantaneous, as were the celebrations that followed.

Evie was quick to hug and congratulate John and his new bride. To her relief, he seemed happy - excited even, and who could blame him? Esme was gorgeous. After a few moments of talking, Evie had also deduced that she was wild and almost as much of a true gypsy as Polly. She was also kind, witty and clever - she had to be if Tommy had accepted her to join their family, their side of this now resolved conflict. He wouldn’t have accepted just anyone and yet again, they were all forced to have faith he knew what he was doing.

That didn’t mean Evie had to hold it against Esme. No matter how she’d joined the Shelby clan, she was a Shelby nonetheless and Evie knew better than most how daunting it was to join such a clan as this.

“Congratulations,” she smiled once more, kissing John’s cheek and nodding at his bride. “Be good to one another.”

“We will be.”

“And welcome to the family, Esme.”

“Thank you,” she nodded, grinning as John slid his arm about her waist and held her close.

Evie took that as her cue to leave the newly weds to it. As it was, one of the younger Lee boys had decided to take advantage of the fact she was currently by herself, lingering by the now raging dance floor.

He was quick to stand beside her, taking her hand and shoot her a teasing grin. “Fancy a dance?”

Evie automatically went to decline, but changed her mind. He was handsome and the night was young. “Why not?” she shrugged. It was a night of peace and celebration after all. “Just don’t blame me if I stand on your toes.”

With that, she let him grab her other hand and spin her into the crowd. She didn’t know the steps, if there even were any, nor did she know the song the band were singing. All she knew, was that she felt weightless, skipping about with her partner.

“I’m Antony,” he grinned, bellowing to be heard over the violin and drumbeats.

“Evelyn!”

“Pleasure to meet you, Evelyn Shelby!”

Give it five more minutes, and several broken toes, and she’d see if he still felt that way after all.

------

Just because the light soon disappeared, didn’t mean the celebrations did. In fact, as candles and lanterns were lit, so too were everyones spirits; There were drinks being poured, games of cards being won, and at one point - gunshots and fireworks.

It was official, Evie loved weddings. Particularly, Shelby weddings.

She also liked dancing and was not looking to stop anytime soon. She’d danced with multiple partners, making her way around the floor before finally ending up beside her aunt. For a pregnant woman, Ada was doing rather well at keeping up.

To be honest, if Evie was having fun, then Ada was on a whole other level. It was almost hysterical watching as her aunt spun and cheered and staggered about the place. After weeks, months even, without her, she was glad to have her back and making mischief with her.

“Fuck. I missed dancing!”

“That’s not dancing!”

“It is!” she protested, snagging Evie’s arm and spinning her around and around. “I should know. I taught you, didn’t I?”

Evie erupted into laughter at the memory. “I think we broke Polly’s vase when you tried to dip me!”

“And her clock with that lift!”

Both girls erupted into further laughter, tears trickling down their cheeks. All Evie could see was the memory of her aunt Polly’s face as she’d come into the kitchen to find Ada lifting Evie over her head, surrounded by broken china and glass.

“God! I’ve missed you,” Evie whined, hugging Ada close as her emotions over took her for a second. Her aunt didn’t seem to mind though as she hugged her back tightly.

“I’ve missed you too. We should never go this long without speaking ever again.”

“Fine by me. After the baby’s born, we should go dancing together.”

“Fuck yes!”

As if proving her enthusiasm for the idea, Ada began to twirl all over again, faster and more manically than before. Apparently it was enough to worry her family. Arthur was by their side in an instant.

“Come on, Ada. Enough now. Enough,” he tried, to no avail. He went to reach for her, only for her to spin away faster. “Ada.”

Even Tommy was coming over from his seat, sighing as he approached. That was enough to knock the smile from Evie’s face, especially as she noticed Polly’s concerned expression. What did they expect? Ada had always enjoyed living vicariously and she’d been locked away for weeks.

“Ada,” her father coaxed, addressing her like some spooked animal. “Come on, have a rest. Sit down now.”

“Come and look, Esme! Look at the family you’ve joined!” Ada bellowed in reply. “Come look at the man who runs it, who picks his brother’s wives for them!”

Evie turned, an apology already on her lips as John and Esme were startled from their own celebrations. She could see John was about to say something less than nice to his drunk, pregnant sister.

“He hunts his own sister down like a rat, and tried to kill his own brother-in-law!”

“Ada, that’s enough!” Arthur urged, as both Polly and Tommy closed in.

“Now, he won’t even let me have a fucking dance!-”

“Ada!”

“-Not even at a fucking wedding,” she seethed, glaring at Tommy whilst Polly tried to wrap her arms around her niece and guide her to a chair.

“Sit her down,” John pleaded.

Jesus. Every Shelby was involved now. Only Finn appeared to be missing and he was too busy playing with the Lee children to care. Else, he’d have found it hilarious.

“Calm down, Ada. Calm down.”

However, Ada’s face was anything but calm. In fact, it looked horrified. Polly only had to glance down to know why.

“Holy shit.” She sighed. “Water. Right.”

“Bloody hell Ada,” Arthur groaned. “You do pick your times.”

“Her water’s broke!”

“I didn’t plan this!”

“Right we need to move.”

“Get off me, Tom.”

Everyone erupted into chaos. Evie lost track of who was talking or even in charge of the scene. She simply followed, excitement and panic coursing through her as she took Ada’s hand and squeezed.

“Evie?”

“I’m right here,” she promised, helping towards the waiting car. “I swore it at the beginning and I meant it. You’ll always have me. I’m not going anywhere. Not until we have a screaming baby in your arms.”

-----------

Screaming.

So much screaming.

It was official - Evie was never having a baby.

“It hurts!”

“I know,” Polly cooed, manoeuvring the sheets about as she peered up from her position between Ada’s parted legs. “If it didn’t it wouldn’t be called labour.”

“I want Freddie!”

“Ada-”

“Please!” she sobbed, laying her sweaty head back against Evie’s chest. Despite Polly’s warning Evie had chosen to stay. She wasn’t going anywhere. Even if she knew nothing about delivering a baby, she knew all about loving and supporting her family. She and Ada had been there for each other time and time again.

Nothing had changed, just because Ada was married.

“You can do this,” Evie whispered, kissing her aunt’s damp brow. “Freddie’s on his way. You heard Polly. Dad’s given his word. Freddie can come. He’ll be here any second.”

“So will this little one,” Polly urged as Ada yelped again, a contraction cutting off the conversation. “Keep going. That’s right. Push.”

And to her credit, she did. Ada pushed, screaming and crushing Evie’s hand in the process. Yet, Evie wouldn’t have had it any other way. Her heart was racing as within the span of mere minutes she heard the soft cries of a baby.

Ada’s baby.

“Oh my god,” she whimpered, hugging Ada tightly as she tried to catch her breath. Polly and Esme were doing their part, cleaning and tidying everything below before presenting the baby to its mother. “You did it, Ada. You did it.” “I did,” she giggled, almost deliriously. She looked like she could have slept for weeks.

“Ada. Congratulations, darling. It’s a boy.” Polly’s voice broke them from their celebration as they turned their eyes downward to the cloth wrapped bundle now being passed their way. Soft, tiny fingers poking out were all Evie could see as she gaped at her new cousin.

She wanted to cry. Damn it, Ada and Polly actually were crying, as was the baby. It was a room of crying people. All shedding happy tears though.

“A baby boy,” Ada whispered, staring at the bundle in her arms.

Then they heard it.

The door banging below.

“Ada! Come on! Open up!”

“Freddie,” Ada whimpered, exhausted eyes turning to the hall. She didn’t even have to ask. Polly was already half way down the stairs. The already perfect moment would now be complete, as would their family now that the father had arrived. Just in time too.

He would get to meet his son.

Evie couldn’t have been happier for Ada, grinning as she heard Freddie’s frantic footsteps approaching. The look on his face as he burst into the room was awestruck.

Then again, seeing his wife, beaming ear to ear, cradling their newborn in her arms tended to have that affect on a person.

“It’s a boy, Freddie,” Ada whispered.

Freddie simply blinked. His smile grew as he took the invitation, approaching slowly before perching on the stool next to them. Evie was quick to move aside, allowing him to take her place as he reached over and took the bundle for himself.

One look was all it took.

He was in love.

“It’s a beautiful baby boy,” he gaped, much to everyone’s amusement. Polly even wiped her eyes hastily, as if trying to hide her tears of joy. “There you go. Welcome to the world, son. Welcome to the world.”

His tone was of wonder and of euphoria as he stared down at the boy in his arms. Who knew what he was thinking.

Was that how her father would have looked, had he been there for her birth? Would he have stared at her like she was his entire world? Evie gulped at the thought. It was stupid to think of such things, but she couldn’t help it. A small part was jealous as she witnessed the tender tableau before her.

The truth was, her mother had probably been alone. Who had she had as a friend to hold her hand or assist with the birth? Maybe their neighbours? They were always kind to them, looking out for the small family. Still, it wouldn’t have been like this, that much Evie was sure of. Not full of love and support.

Her mother had had her reasons, Evie knew that. It just didn’t make witnessing what they could have had any less painful.

“What are you going to call him?”

“Karl,” Ada grinned, answering Esme’s question. “After Karl Marx.”

“Who?”

“Bloody hell,” Polly sniggered. “Karl’s a lovely name, Ada.”

A lovely name for a lovely boy. Evie was about to say as much when there was yet another knock at the door. Well, knock probably wasn’t the right word, not when the door rattled under the weight of their visitor’s fist.

“Police! Open up!”

Everyone froze. No one knew what to do.

The Police? The Police were here? Why? How?

“Oh god,” Evie choked, reaching instinctively for Ada and taking her hand. She also watched as Polly was quick to snatch Karl out of his father’s arms and placed him securely back with his mother.

That was all they had time for as the door burst open down below. Everything that followed for the next five minutes was pure pandemonium. Evie didn’t even know where to look. She lost track with the sudden surge of bodies in the house, all arguing and brawling, dragging Freddie outside with them.

Esme was vicious in her attempts to defend her new family. Polly too, was screaming blue murder as she tried and failed to stop them. She was also gone, storming out mere moments after the Police had left.

No one needed to ask to know where she was headed, or whom she intended to see. “I’m gonna set this right,” she’d rambled, kissing a now hysterical Ada as she left.

How? How could anyone make this right? Evie didn’t know how it could have gone wrong. No one knew Freddie was here. Her father had given his word. He wouldn’t have lied to them… not today… not even he was that callous.

Right?

Evie wished she could be sure. However, she had bigger concerns than her father’s integrity to worry about; Ada was already pushing herself up, onto her feet, and trying to reach for her forgotten coat and shoes.

“I need to go home.”

“No,” Esme pleaded, trying to force her to sit back down by the fire. “You just gave birth. You need to rest.”

“What I need is my husband,” Ada sobbed. “I need to be out of this house!”

Evie took that as her cue to intervene, before her aunt did any damage to herself or anyone else in the room. “I’ll take you home, ok?” she offered, reaching for her arm. “We’ll take the car. Save you walking.”

“But-”

Whilst well intentioned, the look Evie passed Esme told her it was hopeless. She’d soon learn Shelby women did only what they wanted, when they wanted. Everyone else could be damned. Right now, Ada cared about one thing and one thing only: keeping herself and her baby safe. That meant getting as far from Shelby territory as possible.

“Tell Polly where we’ve gone if she comes back, ok?” Evie stated, nodding at Esme.

To her credit, Esme didn’t argue. She hurried to gather Ada’s things, helping Evie to assist her aunt and new-born cousin into the back of the waiting car. She even offered to accompany them.

“I know about babies and what needs doing now,” she explained, hopping into the passenger’s seat. “I’ll be more use to you there than sitting on my ass here.”

Evie and Ada were visibly grateful for her company; They were going to need all the help they could get.

-------------

It was hours before either Evie or Esme returned. In fact, the sun was already beginning to rise as Evie rounded the corner of Watery Lane, the engine humming as it bounced across the cobbles. Whilst she much preferred riding to driving, she’d learned all the same during the war. When there hadn’t been any men to drive anywhere.

Like riding, she loved the solitude and freedom driving offered. She only wished she could turn the car around and drive away from it all… anywhere else… anywhere but here would have been good enough for her.

Her rage had been steadily building with every moment that had passed since Freddie had been taken. By now, she was shaking as she controlled the urge to march inside her house and shoot the lot of them.

Instead, she ground to a halt, slamming the car door harder than necessary and barging her way into Watery Lane.

She’d hardly made it in the door before Polly was upon her, wide eyed and panicked.

“Is she-?”

“She’s alright, Pol,” Evie soothed, glad to see the immediate relief in Polly’s eyes. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t be hurrying back to Ada the moment she could, to check on her for herself. “She’s sleeping. I made sure she ate and kept an eye on her. Esme did too. She’s there to help with feeding and stuff when the baby wakes. Ada just needs sleep.”

Her aunt’s face relaxed at the news, but her skin was still too pale. “She shouldn’t be alone. Not now.”

“She didn’t have much choice,” Evie spat, her eyes following to the guilty party. The one who had made this divide. “Isn’t that right, Dad?”

She hadn’t even acknowledged the others in the room until that point, but now her stare was ice cold as she focused on them.

She snapped.

She grabbed the nearest item - a teapot of all things - and hurled it at his head. Luckily, Tommy dodged, meaning it shattered harmlessly against the wall. But the look of disbelief on his face was accurate enough.

“Oi!” he warned, hurrying to reach her before she could throw something else. Had John not wrapped his arms around her, she probably would have. There were several teacups she had always hated in particular, lying within reach in an open invitation. “Listen to me! I didn’t do this.”

“Then who did?” Evie bellowed.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t-? Bullshit.”

Evie spat at him, breaking free of John and pushing him off of her.

“Pack it in!” he begged, rolling his eyes. “Tommy wouldn’t do this.”

Whether they believed him or not didn’t matter. Evie knew in her heart they’d been betrayed. If not by her father then who was it? Who was she supposed to believe had this kind of information, other than family?

“First you dictated John’s life. Now theirs? Is there anyone you won’t control?”

“Evie-”

“Don’t,” she seethed, panting from the exertion. “Don’t touch me. If you had anything to do with this,” she warned, “then I’ll never speak to you again. Ever.”

“It wasn’t me!”

“Promise?”

“Promise! On your mother’s life.”

A stray tear escaped Evie’s eye as she turned and stormed back across to Polly. Such an oath had to be honoured until it was proven otherwise. But that didn’t mean Evie had to like it. So, she choose to leave her father where he stood: on shaky ground.

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