#can’t open the wind bag when there’s your boss standing over it with blood shot eyes and a disassociative glance in your direction

[apollosbisexualass]

Rip Odysseus, you would’ve loved coffee

[jooniyah]

Poison Apple : The Finale

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Fem Reader ; Min Yoongi x Fem Reader

AU: Yandere!au, Moneylender!Taehyung

Genre: Angst, Mature, Smut rated R

Warnings: NON CON, Violence, Hard Yandere behavior, implied forced pregnancy, childbirth, emotional abuse, blackmail, kidnapping, child maltreatment, vehicle crash, surgery, hospitals, character death, degradation and physical abuse, slapping, cum play, choking, spanking, manipulation, heavy profanity, smut, blood, knives, guns, assassins, and murder.

Word count: 37.1 K

Cover edit: @dameleia ᵗʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ˡᵒᵛᵉˡʸ ᵖˡᵘᵐᵎ

Disclaimer:  This is a work of fiction and I do not condone any of the actions of the characters in this fiction. This is to be treated as pure fantasy, and should not be misconstrued to be demeaning the idols in any way. If any of the above warnings cause you discomfort, kindly refrain from reading.

This is a non-consensual setting, please proceed only if you are not triggered by the warnings. All warnings for Chapter 1 and 2 apply. I repeat, please be sure to read all the warnings carefully.

Author’s note:  This is the final chapter of the Poison Apple Trilogy. Please make sure to read Part 1 and Part 2 before proceeding.

Chapter 1�� |   Chapter 2

The vapor from the milk swirled up Taehyung’s nostrils. He slowly withdrew his lips from the cup.

“I’m ready to die if that’s what you really want, Y/N.” He looked at the cup, gently twirling it in his hand.  He crinkled his nose and raised his eyes to yours.

“Will you kiss me goodbye?” He hesitated briefly. “Kiss me like you mean it. Will you?”

Heavy salty drops streamed down your face. Dipping your head, you slowly pressed your lips against his. He deepened the kiss, lapping at your mouth like a man dying of thirst. You closed your eyes, fighting your instinct to flinch and step back. He sighed into your mouth, moaning something that clearly resembled your name.

His fingers tightened around the cup. When you broke the kiss, he looked up with teary eyes.

“I’m ready, Y/N.”

He raised the cup to his meet his lips again. Something snapped inside you, and you instinctively reached out to stop him.

“I am not a killer,” you whispered, voice breaking. “I am not you.”

His features became gloomier. He shook his head, not letting his grip slacken.

“You only want to know about where he is buried.” He dropped his gaze. “Before you try to kill me again.”

Hot blood rose to your cheeks. You did want to go to your husband’s grave. Taehyung was a monster. Undoubtably so. But killing him wasn’t going to bring back all that you had lost.

“No. I-” You had nothing to say. You had all the reasons in the world to want Kim Taehyung dead. But you could not find a reason to want him alive.

“I just- I don’t- you could just let me go, Taehyung.” The words came out in a whisper, sounding like a prayer.

A bitter wince shot through his features. Before you could react, he swatted your arm away and tipped the cup over his mouth in one quick flash.

You watched in stunned horror as he downed all the poisoned milk, witnessing his throat bob around the liquid. He wiped his mouth, setting the cup down.

“I’d rather die, Y/N.” He licked his lips slowly. “Like I just did.” A tired smile stretched over his lips.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Taehyung? Taehyung!”

His body was convulsing, froth trickling down the side of his chin. His eyes were fixed on you, but there was no emotion in them. They were devoid of animation. Like the eyes of a ghost.

You crouched down, trying to hold him still.

“Ambulance!” you shouted, trying to get up from the floor. His arm wildly slashed at the air, finding purchase on your ankle.

“No…” he croaked, his face twisting with agony. “Don’t, Y/N.”

You shook him off, running to fish your phone out of your bag. Just as your finger circled the call button, a cold wave of realization hit you. You couldn’t call anyone but Taehyung on your phone.

Spinning around, you caught sight of the man convulsing on the floor.

“I’ll be back. Just- just stay here,” you whispered, making haste to rush out of the kitchen.

You flew like the wind to the brigade of guards patrolling the mansion.

“Help!” you screamed, waving your hands above your head. “Get an ambulance!”

The men turned and looked at you weirdly. It was as if your screams had simply vanished into thin air before falling on their ears. They made no move, there was no sign of acknowledgement.

“Can’t you hear me?” your voice grew even louder. “Taehyung is dying in there!”

Still, no one moved.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Are you a bunch of morons?”

They lowered their weapons, holding them so the muzzles were facing the ground. A guard jogged over to you, removing his Aviators as he did so.

“We know what’s happening, Mrs. Kim. We were ordered to stay out of anything that happened this evening.”

“What?!” Time was ticking on like a time bomb over your head. “What the hell? Get the ambulance this instant!”

The guard’s face flinched. “You don’t understand, Mrs. Kim.”

You bit your quivering lips. “Who had the nerve to give such an order?”

“It was Mr. Kim, ma’am.”

Your gaped in stunned surprise.

The guard went on. “He talked to us before stepping into the house. His instructions were clear. He ordered us not to intervene or stop you in any way.”

“Not to stop me? But I’m trying to save him! Help me!”

The man shook his head, his face betraying the pain he was going through.

“Fuck you! Fuck all of you!” You thrust your hand at him. “Hand me the damn car keys!” He placed them on your palm, and you ran back into the mansion.

Taehyung was writhing on the floor, and his dull eyes lit up when he saw your outline.

“…..came back…” he mumbled, still foaming at the mouth.

“You’re a stupid bitch, Taehyung!” you spat, latching your hands under his arms, and pulling him up.

He was so damn heavy, and you wheezed as you dragged him to the door. Adrenaline gave you inhuman strength - strength you never knew you had possessed. Huffing and wheezing, you reached the porch with Taehyung clinging onto you like a withered leaf.

The guards were huddled by the car, visibly distressed. They didn’t, however, make any attempt to help you lug Taehyung into the vehicle. The guard from earlier stepped forward, blocking you when you tried to hop into the driver’s seat.

“Ma’am- I was instructed to ask in case… “ He quickly glanced at his boss, “… you know what you’re giving up by saving Mr. Kim, don’t you?”

You glared at the man and turned to see Taehyung collapsed in the backseat. He had passed out. Turning back, you shook your head helplessly before pushing the guard away.

Strapping on the seat belt, you sneered at him.

“I know.”

The tires screeched loudly, the smell of hot rubber on gravel filling your nose as you tore out of the gates in full speed.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Kim Namjoon was watching the blue skyline out of his penthouse suite when his phone buzzed. He didn’t like loud ringtones. Naturally, it wasn’t a surprise that his phone was on vibrate mode. The glass coffee table vibrated, humming along with the phone. He didn’t hear it. Nor did he see the way his phone slightly moved with each ring.

“Um, Excuse me? My phone- can I have it back?”

You bit your lips, resisting the urge to dissolve into a puddle of tears. Handing the phone back to the stranger, you sniffed and retreated to the sofa.

Hoseok’s phone had been switched off. Calls to Bo Na and the Jung house didn’t go through either. You had hoped to run back into Hoseok’s arms, away from all the horrible tangles you were ensnared in.

But you were left alone. Your best friend wasn’t around to hold you. What had happened to him? The deafening loneliness had driven you to do the unthinkable – calling Kim Namjoon.

And he hadn’t picked up either. What were you supposed to do? Were you free to leave? What about the man in the ER? You couldn’t leave him to die. Or could you?

Breathing deeply, you rose from the sofa, making your way through the corridors in a daze. Your legs felt incredibly heavy with each step. You had expected to feel relieved. Joyous even. But why then was it so hard to turn your back? You stopped midtrack as if you were shot. Monster or not, you weren’t leaving a dying man alone. Turning on your heel, you slowly retraced your steps to the sofa.

Right on cue, a nurse opened the door and called out “Who’s here with Mr. Kim Taehyung?”

There was only a split second to make your choice. Would you regret it? You didn’t know.

You raised your hand.

“I am.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung was unconscious and he remained so for hours on end. You found yourself internally struggling during the whole time. You kept walking to the door, turning back, sighing, and sitting down again. It was a hell of a torture to reason with yourself. Weren’t you a better human being? Shouldn’t you stay at least till he woke up? But what would happen then? Would you still get to leave him after?

It was the twelfth time that your hand was on the doorknob, ready to turn it, when his groggy voice called out.

“You… still here?”

Spinning around, you stared at him with wide eyes. He wasn’t fully aware of his surroundings. The dazed look on his face confirmed that.

“Y/N… where am I?”

He looked at the IV cannula hooked to his arm. It came flooding back to him. You had poisoned him. He remembered drinking the milk. He had vague memories of feeling incredibly lonely for a while. But then you had returned. You had helped him up to stand on his feet. But he didn’t know what had happened after that.

He saw your shocked face, his mind still buzzing.

“Y/N, who brought me here?” Speaking made his throat burn. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to tide over the pounding headache. “I left clear instructions.”

You remained by the door, looking at him warily. “I did.”

He raised his eyebrows in shock. “You?” A sudden bout of coughing interrupted him. “You brought me? How- why?”

Good question. Why indeed? Because you were a fool? That was probably right. You hadn’t expected to feel so guilty when you had planned to poison him. Who poisoned a monster and then drove him to the hospital without fleeing for their lives? Fools did.

“Y/N,” he repeated, his eyes latched onto yours. “You didn’t leave.”

The statement hung in the air like a smothering wet cloud. You stared back at him, finally finding your voice.

“I am now.”

When you turned again, the question whipped on your back like a hot rod.

“Why didn’t you let me die?”

The words rolled into a tight ball in your throat. What were you supposed to tell him?

“I- I’m not a cold-blooded killer like you, Kim Taehyung. I can’t live with that.”

He strained his burning throat to whisper hoarsely:

“Stay with me then. Come here.” He patted the side of his bed.

You scoffed in mock surprise. Folding your arms in defiance, you gave him your toughest glare.

“I’m leaving now.” You took a step forward and hissed “I let you live. And now I’m going.”

He chuckled, and then coughed before smirking at you. “I have your passport. You don’t have a penny to your name. Hoseok isn’t here to bail you out either.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Hoseok? Did Taehyung do something to him?

“H-Hoseok? Where is he? What did you do to him, you bastard?”

He beckoned to you with his finger. “Come here and I’ll tell you.”

You sidled closer, worrying your lip so much that you could taste the blood. His hand shot to your face, the back of his fingers caressing your cheeks before his thumb traced the tiny bitemark on your lip. With a firm tug, he pulled you so that you were sitting haphazardly on the bed. His hand resumed brushing your face.

“Now- where was I?” he purred, a gentle smile tugging the corners of his lips.

“Hobi- where’s-?”

He hummed, nodding. “Oh, yes. Well, I got him on the run. He won’t be coming back in a hurry.”

“What did you do to him?” Your voice was lower than a whisper.

His finger continued drawing lazy circles, slowly working its way down your arm. “Pass me that glass of water, honey,” he said, unmindful of your agitation. You didn’t move, too stunned to react.

“Honey? The water?” His voice grew deeper, the slight stern note kicking you into action.

You passed it to him with shaking fingers, and he grinned happily, like a child who had won his first race. Each second dragged on, as you watched his mouth sip the water in agonizing slowness. He enjoyed tormenting you for a while longer, before giving in to the painful suspense on your face.

“I set him up for tax fraud, baby. He decided he’d rather exile himself than stay and get his ass thrown in jail.”

“Where-”

He shook his head prettily. “Oh, I wouldn’t ask that question, honey. He can’t contact you or he’d be dragged back into the country through call tracing.”

He loved the shocked look on your face. He had begun to miss the surprised wide eyes of older days. These days, it was increasingly difficult for him to catch you off guard.

You shook your head, fighting back the angry tears.

“You’re like mold, Kim Taehyung. You destroy everything you touch. I despise you.”

He stared at you, bringing your palm up to his lips and dropping a kiss in it.

“I love you.” He stopped himself before saying out loud : “You saved me. You love me too.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

It was a warm and toasty day, with crisp blue waves lapping at the beach in serenity. Hoseok propped his legs up on the deck chair, rubbing his feet together and shaking the grainy sand off his soles. He looked at Bo Na who was approaching with two martini glasses.

“Baby?” she asked, concerned. “Are you okay?”

He sighed, blowing out his cheeks.

“I just- Y/N…  I feel so goddamn guilty for leaving her.” He shook his head sadly. “I’m a coward, aren’t I?”

She set the glasses down, reaching over to pat his head over the brown straw hat.

“We had no choice, Hobi-yah,” she said, taking his hand in hers. “That asshole completely ruined all of our lives.”

Hoseok looked straight ahead at the kids surfing along the waves.

“Poor Y/N,” he said, heart dropping. “She’s chained to a monster. Poor girl. She’s pregnant too.” He clenched and unclenched his fists. “I feel like crap, Bo Na.”

Hoseok’s wife patted his hand soothingly.

“We’ll go back as soon as we sort this out, Hobi. We will.”

He shook his head in resignation. He knew that Taehyung had completely fucked him over. The guy was like a damned viper. He would find some way or the other to keep throwing Hoseok out of your reach. The only way he could go back was after he killed that bastard.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

When she pushed the door open, Taehyung was doubled over his desk, passed out.

“Mr. Kim?”

She reached out to touch him, feeling his weak breath ghost her fingers. She leaned over the table, picking up the phone to call emergency. A weak hand grasped her forearm, and Taehyung slowly raised his head.

“Y/N,” his lids were half-shut, skin cold and clammy to touch. “Y/N, don’t leave me.”

“Let me call emerg-“

He pulled her closer, pressing his forehead into the warmth of her hips.

“No, just stay.”

Soft hands combed through his hair, and gently brushed the long strands away from his eyebrows. He was definitely in heaven. The fingers traced his earlobe, drawing lines along the side of his neck.

“Sit on my lap,” he croaked, gripping the hips tight.

And then he felt the heavenly weight sink on his thighs. You were being so compliant.

“Kim,” the voice drew him in, sending jolts of delight throughout his body. “You need to rest.”

He shook his head, the sudden action making his delirious brain go into overdrive.

“No, you’ll disappear if I do.”

The hand cradled his jaw, and a wet kiss spread a lovely warmth over his clammy forehead.

“I promise I won’t.”

“I feel so tired, Y/N.” His lids fluttered closed, a cold silence blocking his ears. He could feel you panting and struggling to hoist him up. His mind started losing focus. The last thing he heard before passing out cold was:

“I love you, Kim.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“How much longer, Se Jong?” the man asked, irritation evident on his features. He was in a bad temper, and the cheap wine had served to infuriate him even further.

“Patience, man,” Se Jong said, leaning back in his chair. The bulb above their head was covered in grime, and it flickered like a dying candle.

“Let me do something. Anything. You’re making me sit on my ass all day every day for months now.”

Se Jong tsked. “You don’t know how dangerous Kim Taehyung is. One wrong move could cost us our lives, man. Why else do you think I’m stuck with you instead of all those hitmen I could have hired?”

The room was silent, the stale smell of cigarettes lingering in the air like unsaid words.

“No one is ready to cross Taehyung,” Se Jong continued. “I’m having such a hard time finding guys to join us without blowing my cover.” The chill running up his spine was very real. “Taehyung’s men would empty their guns inside my head if they even smelled our plots.”

The man opposite him shook his head dejectedly. “What if- what if we change the target? Can’t we do something to his wife- what’s her name? You said he follows her like a blind puppy.”

Se Jong straightened up, looking at his mate carefully. “It’s a bit risky, he drives her around wherever she goes… But that’s certainly an idea…”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

When Taehyung opened his eyes, bright light was streaming in through the windows. His neck was sore. The headache was a terrible bitch, throbbing and making his temples hurt. What puzzled him the most though, was the fact that he was lying on the couch in his office. He didn’t remember going over to the couch.

What he definitely remembered was the warm crook of your hips against his face. But- he looked around- you never visited him in his office. The throbbing resumed with renewed vigor. Had he been dreaming?

“Mr. Kim? Sir?”

His secretary hesitated at the door, hand on the doorknob. He shook himself, sitting upright.

“Yeah?” His eyes were groggy and took a second to focus on the woman.

She worried her lip, unsure.

“Are you alright?”

He didn’t know. “Did you see my wife? I thought she was…” He looked beyond her, expecting to see you around the corner. He swung his eyes back at his secretary. Her blank face told him the answer. No one could bypass Na Yeon and reach his office. He nodded to himself.

“…Never mind.”

“Sir, do you want me to call the doctor?”

“What? No. I’m fine. I just-” He looked around, still uncertain. “-did you come in earlier?”

Confusion spread on her face like ink on parchment.

“I have been with HR all day, going over this quarter’s staffing plans. I came back just now.”

He took a deep breath, coughing immediately after.

“Let me fetch you some water, sir.”

She left, leaving behind a very concerned Taehyung.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Throughout the day, Taehyung’s thoughts kept returning you. He was sure it had been you. He didn’t remember a lot of details, but the words “I love you, Kim” came back to him, your sultry voice calling his name.

He was agitated on the drive home. He had called his guards just to make sure. The head guard at home had confirmed that you had in fact never left home.

Who then had uttered those words to him?

“Bin-ah,” he called out.

“Yes, boss?”

The man was seated on the front passenger seat.

Taehyung told him where he wanted to go, and Wo Bin nodded. The car changed course, making a full U turn.

── ⋆✩⋆ ──

“I assume you don’t have an appointment?” the psychiatrist asked.

Taehyung shrugged. He wasn’t a man who made appointments. He was a man of very little patience, except when it came to matters concerning you.

“So, how can I help you, Mr. Kim?”

It wasn’t easy to exactly define what he needed help with. In fact, it was obnoxious that the doctor thought he even needed help.

“I only came because I…I was confused.”

“Alright. What are you confused about?”

Taehyung pursed his lips. He didn’t really know. He felt like the doctor wouldn’t truly ever understand it either. Nevertheless, he hazarded a try.

“My wife- I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“I see. It’s only natural to-“

Taehyung clucked his tongue in exasperation. “No, you don’t understand. I keep seeing her. Hearing her. I feel like I might hurt her.”

The doctor considered the statement for a second.

“Let’s talk about the first part. You keep seeing her? Could you explain that?”

It would probably sound crazy. Maybe there was nothing wrong with him. He might have just been tired. Taehyung sighed.

“I- I saw her at my office today.” He ran a finger over his brow. “I faintly remember her touching me and talking to me. She helped me lie on the couch.” His brows creased, internalizing the words as he said them. “But when I woke up, she wasn’t there, she had never left home today, in fact.”

The doctor nodded his head softly, as if he heard stories like this all the time.

“Has this happened before?”

The times he had conjured up fantasies about you were innumerable. How many times had he imagined your plush lips around his cock? How many times had he almost felt your breath on his neck? Too many.

“No.”

“You talked about feeling like hurting her. How exactly do you mean?”

Apart from the fact that he had killed your husband before your eyes?

“She…” Taehyung swallowed thickly. “… she’s pregnant. With her first husband’s child.”

“Does it bother you?”

Well, he did want to fucking rip it out of you. It made him tremble in revulsion to see the bastard growing inside you, flourishing and mocking him every day.

“Sometimes, yes.”

“How does it make you feel?”

Like a fucking loser.

“I love her. I want her all to myself. I can’t share her.”

“Sharing her love with the baby irks you?”

Fuck yes. You couldn’t and shouldn’t love anyone or anything that didn’t involve him.

“I guess.”

“Could I suggest getting a pet, Mr. Kim?”

Why a pet? So that you could hand an even bigger slice of your love to it and ignore him?

“What good would that do?”

“See, Mr. Kim, you have a problem adjusting to the fact that your wife is pregnant, and that you’ve been left out of a significant part of her life-“

This guy seems to be getting somewhere

“-So, adopting a pet could help you bond with her more. It’s like having a baby too, you both would get to participate in raising the pet. It might help you get closer and feel less bothered by the baby.”

What kind of logic works that way?

“I guess I can try getting one.”

“Well, I would suggest adopting one after making sure you’re both not allergic.”

You weren’t allergic to dogs. Or cats. You used to love walking your neighbor’s dogs when you were single.

“Fine.”

“Right, Mr. Kim. Would you like to come back for another session to discuss further? You might have some issues I’d like to help you with.”

Like hell he would.

“We’ll see.”

“You see, Mr. Kim, you seem to be carrying a lot of emotional baggage. We could talk more over another session….”

Taehyung stood up, giving the doctor a firm nod that was supposed to convey his thanks. Without another word, he stepped out and left.

Once outside, the car again changed course towards an animal shelter. Taehyung had no trouble choosing the pet he wanted. You loved dogs. He had seen you eagerly asking your neighbor if she wanted help with her dog. He even knew which breeds you liked.

“Do you have Golden Retrievers? Corgis? Pomeranians?”

The attendant nodded. Leading Taehyung to the kennel, he said “We have a Golden puppy. He’s a great little guy.”

The puppy in question was curled up in a corner, his silky coat littered with burrs. He looked up at Taehyung, cute eyes shining in expectation. There were other pups with him, but he seemed to seriously miss human interaction. His leg was bandaged, and he whined at the human looking at him through the bars.

“The bandage?”

The attendant clicked his tongue.

“They get into fights, and another pup nipped at his leg. But he has had his shots, no worries.”

A lone puppy. Picked on by other pups.

A couple hours later, Taehyung walked out of the shelter, carrying the Golden pup in his arms, all cleaned and spruced up, with a huge red bow around his neck.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You were cursing in frustration at the needles. The old school sentimental mom in you had wanted to knit your baby a warm fuzzy sweater. But the damned stitches kept falling apart. It was bizarre, considering you were very good with needles. You had even embroidered Yoongi’s initials in all his pocket squares with seamless finish.

“Damn it!”

You threw the ball of yarn over your shoulder, cross at the stupid thread. Sighing in frustration, you were trying to calm yourself when something butted your elbow. It was wet. Was it him licking you? You shuddered and turned slowly.

A wet nose was against your elbow, yes, but the owner of the nose wasn’t Taehyung. It was a handsome puppy. The ball of yarn was securely nestled in his mouth, and he wagged his tail at you, shaking his pretty bow in the process.

“Hey…” You crooned, smiling down at him. “Who are you, boy?”

Taehyung stood at the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms folded.

“We adopted him.”

You stood up, all the messed-up yarn falling to the floor.

“We did what?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“We have a puppy together.”

You looked down at the puppy in disbelief. His starry eyes were bright as they looked up at you. You knelt down and patted his head, happiness filling up your heart.

“And I don’t get a say? You should have asked me.”

“Well, you love him. So why bother picking a fight with me?” He found your pouting attractive. “Of course, you get a say, you get to name him.”

You never thought anything Taehyung did could ever delight you. But fate had its way, and you were grinning as you booped the pup’s nose, saying:

“Almond. You’re Almond.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Namjoonah?”

The younger Kim stopped outside his father’s study, popping his head in at the door.

“Yeah, dad?”

“Your mother didn’t say you were coming tonight.”

“Ah, I wanted to drop by before I headed to Ha Ni’s.”

“Give your girlfriend my love.”

Namjoon nodded. He saw his father’s face twist in uncertainty.

“What is it, dad?”

His father wiped his glasses, signaling Namjoon to close the door and grab a seat.

“I can’t say much, boy, but Kim Taehyung showed up at my office today.”

Namjoon did a double take.

“What?” His mouth went dry. “What did he want?”

His father rubbed his temples, deep in thought.

“He came for help. Saying he feared harming his wife.”

Namjoon’s jaw clenched. “Y/N?”

“Yes. He apparently doesn’t enjoy Min’s baby disrupting his life. Do you- Do you think he would hurt her? Or the baby?”

The hooded eyes burned with anger. Exhaling sharply, Namjoon’s thick voice growled:

“Well, she would deserve it then. I don’t give a shit about that bitch.” He rose, clenching his fist tight. “I don’t even think it’s Min’s baby anyway.”

He stormed out, leaving his dad staring at the doorway, worry creasing his features.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung was grabbing his coat and keys when he heard the voice. He raised his eyebrows at his secretary.

“Mr. Jinyoung is waiting to meet you.”

Na Yeon’s boss looked at her in confusion. “Isn’t he supposed to be here at 3 pm?”

“No, Mr. Kim, his appointment was at 11 am.”

He didn’t believe her. He had carefully scheduled his appointments around your ultrasound. He wanted to go with you.

“Let me see the appointments journal.”

Sure enough, his secretary had jotted down Jinyoung’s name for a 11 am appointment. But he remembered saying 3 pm so clearly

“Tell him to come back at another date. I am leaving.”

“But, sir –“

He flashed her a warning look. Kim Taehyung was never contradicted. Except, of course, by you.

“I am taking my wife for her sonogram. Don’t call me unless it’s urgent.”

── ⋆✩⋆ ──-

At the doctor’s, he held your hand, squeezing it gently. Your attempts to shrug his hand off were futile. Besides, it was an expensive clinic that only the elite could afford. It was a given that everyone knew who you both were. The social eyebrows would frown on you if something awkward happened.

The gel was cold on your belly. It made your toes curl. The transducer wand moving all over your belly produced images of your baby on the monitor. Involuntary tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you watched, spellbound. A deep ache in your heart reminded you that Yoongi wasn’t present to see his child’s sonogram.

In his place, however, was another man, his murderer, holding your hand and blowing on your knuckles as he too silently watched the child’s images.

Taehyung couldn’t understand what he was feeling. There was a tiny version of you, getting ready to come out to the world, trusting him and you to be loving parents. His mind screamed at him that it was part Min too, but his heart wanted to focus on the part Y/N at that moment.

“You have a very healthy baby, Mrs. and Mr. Kim,” the doctor said, smiling down at you. While you wiped yourself clean, Taehyung thanked the doctor and murmured some questions which you didn’t quite catch.

“Very well, then.” You saw her nod in enthusiasm.

As he steered you out the door, you hissed at him, asking what he had been up to.

“Nothing.” His face was sincere. “I told her that we didn’t want a gender reveal.”

You spun around.

“We? You fucking impose your ideas on me all the time, Taehyung.” You hadn’t wanted to know the gender either. But it was rude of him to take all decisions on his own, tying it up with the ‘we’ bow.

“I know what you want, love.”

You faced away, fuming. It was maddening how he seemed to read you so well.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung was at a loss for words. He had missed eight appointments, each one just as important as the other. Just because he seemed to have his schedules mixed up. Each time his schedule clashed with plans to take you out, he chose you over his own appointments. He couldn’t understand how his time got so muddled however much he tried to keep his professional appointments away from personal time.

Na Yeon was standing before him, worrying her lip, looking meek.

“Sir, if you don’t mind, can I suggest something?”

A sharp sigh gave her the permission she sought.

“Can I arrange Mrs. Kim a personal chauffeur?”

“What?”

She took a step back instinctively, scared at his tone.

“I just think… that it would be easier for you.” She looked like she would faint with fear. “I mean, she could have the chauffeur to take her to her appointments. And- and he can keep tabs on her whereabouts.”

Taehyung was about to deny the idea. But then, he remembered the eight missed meetings, and the deals that hadn’t gone through because of them. He grudgingly admitted that it would perhaps be better to get you a chauffeur of your own.

“Well, tell Wo Bin to arrange for one of the guards to-“

He was interrupted by a file, which she extended to him meekly.

“I have already chosen very skilled people to shortlist from, sir. Using our guards might make Mrs. Kim feel uneasy.”

He thought about it. Hiring one of his own men to drive you around was safer. But you would feel on edge. As if having dozens of men around you at the house wasn’t enough. Na Yeon was right.

He skimmed through the file. There were five shortlisted candidates.

“The best out of these five?”

She drew nearer, leaning to turn the pages. Her perfume reached his nostrils. The smell brought some vague memories back. Weird, faded ones.

“This man,” she pointed at a picture, and then turned the page over to point at another.

“And this one. These two are contenders, very skilled and trustable.”

Taehyung nodded.

“Hire whichever one is the best.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Jinyoung was deep in discussion with Taehyung, talking over the nuances of their deal. The water in the crystal glasses started to ripple, and Jinyoung scowled at his counterpart, pissed. The source of the vibration was Taehyung’s phone-and it flashed your name on the caller ID.

Taehyung didn’t hesitate.

“Yes, love.”

“Stop calling me that, asshole.”

“Tell me, my sweet.”

“Blueberries.” Taehyung reached for his notepad, jotting down. “Chocolate ice cream. Apricots. No, Dragon fruit. Oh, and Hershey’s kisses. Get me the almond ones.”

Taehyung subconsciously nodded his head, writing all your demands down.

“Anything else, honey?”

“Fuck you.”

“I love you too. I’ll get them to you.”

Taehyung grinned when you cut the call abruptly. He was still grinning when Jinyoung glared at him.

“What the fuck, man?” He was peeved. “In the middle of a business meeting?”

Replacing the phone on the table, Taehyung glided his hand to the file he was reading.

“It was my wife.”

Jinyoung scoffed. “You ditched my appointment once already. And now this? I can’t deal with you.”

He got up, nose flaring. “Fuck you. And your dumb cunt. You’re pathetic, running after a pussy who already got knocked up for fuck’s sake.”

Jinyoung’s head made contact with the glass tabletop, smashing it to bits, blood pooling on the sharp shards. The collision had a heavy impact, shattering everything and leaving only the steel frame intact.

“What the hell did you say, motherfucker?” Taehyung grabbed the man’s head by his hair, driving him into the steel frame. “How dare you insult my Y/N?” He kept banging the man’s head against the metal, not satisfied until he passed out and went limp.

“Fucking piece of shit.”

He spat on the unconscious figure, kicking his midriff with violent force. He was heaving with the exertion, sweat wetting his collar and trickling down his neck. His eyes landed on his phone and his face slowly lit up again.

You had called him and ordered him to get you the things you craved. You wanted him. You had thought of him. His smile radiated in his eyes, and his heart smiled too.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

It was the seventh month of your pregnancy. Fuck the calculation of weeks. It made you crazy if people asked in which week you were. The hormones were completely off balance. You snapped at anything and everything under the sun. Almond was the only living creature you didn’t snap at.

Taehyung received a fair dose of kicks and bites, mostly when he tried initiating kisses and make-out sessions. He couldn’t bear to have sex with you, not when your belly was swollen with Yoongi’s child. But he couldn’t stop himself from trying to kiss you.

He got angry when you pushed him away. He was scared that your baby was quickly becoming the center of your attention. It felt threatening that a weak bundle of muscle inside you was challenging his position in your life.

It was one similarly exasperating day when he saw you knitting a scarf, you had given up on a sweater because it was too puzzling, and Almond was lying contentedly at your feet. He sneaked behind the couch, trying to put his hand around your neck so he could kiss you. But a harsh jab of the knitting needle poked his ribs, leaving him gasping in pain.

“Y/N, what the hell?” He clutched his chest in agony.

“Keep your hands to yourself, you bastard.” You spat at him in anger, already irritated by your hot flashes and frequent need to pee.

Almond whined at the sudden raise in voices, and you instinctively bent to soothe him, rubbing his nose.

Watching the fucking dog getting better treatment than him led Taehyung to fly off his handle. Mouth curling, he grabbed Almond by the collar, dragging him out of the room. You shouted at him to stop, swearing angrily, but he pushed you away. He was muttering at the dog in anger as he pulled and tugged, slamming the door shut on him.

You could hear the whines and soft scratching of paws against the door.

“What the hell are you doing, Taehyung?” Your voice was a scream.

“Showing you who is in charge.” He ground his teeth, anger lending a murderous flash to his visage.

He pushed you carelessly, sending you flying to land on the couch. The sudden push made your head throb.

Unbuckling his belt, he pulled it free from the loops, throwing it away, the metal buckle hitting the floor with a clang.

Your voice caught, and you half choked out: “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Reaching his hand out, he pulled the straps of your dress down, exposing your breasts to him. Pregnancy had led to swollen breasts, so you were usually braless.

The only good side of the pregnancy, to him, was that your breasts had become bigger and hence he had more soft flesh to rub his face into.

He didn’t lay a finger on you. His attention was focused on your breasts, and he took his already hard member out, stroking himself. The pre-cum glided on his thick shaft, generously coating him and making lewd noises.

“Eyes on me,” he breathed, seeing you attempt to close them.

“You are a shitbag, Taehyung.” Anger made your face feel feverishly hot.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Y/N Kim.”

You flinched at the surname, and his devilish smile flashed at you.

“You’re a Kim, my Y/N Kim. Remember that, sweetie.”

He stroked himself, an intent gaze fixating on your breasts, watching the way they heaved with each breath. The sight made him go wild, and he stroked harder, hand working in a frenzy. Before he knew it, he was panting your name out, taking strangled breaths and shooting his cum on your breasts. He licked his lips as he witnessed his essence dripping in globs onto the cloth bunched over your belly.

He was shaking, and he squatted down, his breaths labored and heavy.

Almond whined again, and he snapped his head towards the door, shouting in rage:

“SHUT UP!”

He turned back to face you, a blissed out look on his face. An adoring smile stretched his lips wide.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Almond was banished from the house. He was put in a kennel outside, and he wasn’t allowed to go near the main house unless the master desired. You weren’t allowed near him either.

“Why are you doing this?” you had asked, and he had shrugged simply.

“Nothing is more important to you than me. Remember that Y/N. It’s a lesson.”

He dropped his gaze to your bump, and grinned when you put your hands on your belly protectively.

“Cute. But you can’t protect your baby unless you listen to me.”

“Why are you this way, Taehyung? Haven’t you tormented me enough?”

His heart felt stabbed. He had done everything for you. Everything he had done was out of love. Why couldn’t you understand? You were so ready to give your whole heart on a platter to that fucker Yoongi. But why weren’t you throwing even one morsel of love his way?

You put your hands on your hips.

“If you love me as you say, let me go. Let me live my life.”

He was looking down.

“Taehyung?” You sighed in pain. “Do you really love me?”

He looked up directly into your eyes.

“Do you?”

You stood motionless, the heavy silence smothering him.

“Yeah. I thought so.”

He scoffed and got up. You had to learn to love him. It would take time. But he would wait. He almost turned, but stopped when he remembered something.

“I want you to embroider my initials in my pocket squares. They’re all on the dresser. The maid will bring the needles and thread.”

He advanced towards you with a disarming smile.

“Remember, it’s KTH. I’ll let you take Almond on a walk after you finish doing it, my dearest.”

He pecked your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I’ll see you in the evening, love.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung was in hot water. You were dangling his pocket square in your left hand, holding his tie with the right.

“What is this stain, bitch?” you growled, leering at him.

The lipstick stain was bright red, the lip prints visible clearly on the white fabric, right above the embroidered KTH. You had found it on him as soon as he walked in.

He had been taken aback when you had jumped on him, pulling his tie in anger.

“You fucking kill my husband, lock me up in this goddamn house and go get a whore’s lips on you? Who do you think you are?”

His face was ghastly, shocked at the accusation. He didn’t know how the lipstick stain had got on the fabric. He always wore suits, and he always wore his pocket squares to show off the beautiful KTH embroidered by your pretty fingers.

What angered him more than your being mad at him was the fact that someone had ruined his precious monogrammed pocket square. He had no idea how it had happened.

“Is this a trick, you sick fuck?” you spat, “Did you make me embroider that just to insult me like this?”

“Y/N, no, I would never,” his tone was panicked. “I have no idea, I swear. I don’t know how it got on me.”

Your bitter stare sliced through his heart. Who had played such a sick prank on him? Who had the fucking nerve to? He couldn’t think of anyone other than you having the balls to mess with him. Balls. He scoffed. More like boobs. And a fucking baby.

You let go of his tie with a spiteful tug.

“Bitch. You are a bitch, Kim Taehyung.”

He controlled his urge to slap you. He had refrained from hitting you as much as he could. But your favorite swear word was making his blood boil. You kept calling him a bitch. Maybe he was, but you were the real bitch. The bitch who just wouldn’t let him love you.

“Wash the stain yourself. Don’t touch me, I loathe you.”

You were about to move when he tugged on your elbow.

“Don’t be a bitch, Y/N. I won’t cheat on you. You are my wife.”

“Yeah. And the mistress of this fucking house. Watch me, I’ll come with a man’s cum on my kerchief one day, and-“

The slap was incredibly harsh, leaving a hot red print of his entire hand on your cheek. Your hand flew to cup your smarting cheek, but he slapped again, and again. The force made your head lurch left and right. The tears washed down your cheeks, staining them and burning the sore skin.

His hand found the nape of your neck, cradling it. His blank manic eyes stared deep into yours.

“I will snap you in two if I smell another man on you.”

The tone was cold as ice, making your gut churn. He stared for a long time, unblinking and stern. Finally, as if he were out of a trance, he let go of your neck and pushed you away with unnecessary force.

You didn’t say a word, moving away from him with flaming hot cheeks.

He didn’t argue when you slept on the couch that night. But when you woke up at midnight to pee, you saw him lying on the floor, just adjacent to the couch, fast asleep.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung brought his work home in the last trimester of your pregnancy. He wanted to be near you, soothing you and making sure you were alright. Besides, he found that he was having zero productivity at his office while you were at home. He didn’t want one of his guards helping you up the stairs or fetching you hot chocolate. It had to be him.

He would be dictating to his secretary in his study and you would shout out to him.

“Grapefruit. I fucking want grapefruit.” If he didn’t respond, you would punctuate with a “Can you hear me, asshole?”

He learned to get on his feet as soon you called. It was amusing to watch his secretary squirm in her seat when he got shouted at. He didn’t really feel ashamed. Rather, he felt happy that you wanted him.

It was hard to watch you struggle at night. He couldn’t sleep, not when he knew you were wide awake. Even if you did doze off, you would awaken screaming, drenched in sweat. He would ball his fists; hands itching to cuddle you and provide comfort. But he suspected he was probably the reason for your nightmares in the first place.

So, night after night, you both lay awake in your beds, pretending to sleep, trying to fool each other. He would assist you to get up and turn to lie on your side. But the rest of the time, the bedroom was filled with heavy sighs and muffled sobs.

Na Yeon once tried commenting on his dark puffy eyebags.

“Mr. Kim, your eyes-“

“Huh? What about them?”

She shuffled her feet nervously.

“You don’t seem to be sleeping enough.”

Just then, you yelled out:

“Kim Taehyung, black currant ice cream.”

He bolted out the door, returning only after a good thirty minutes. When he came back, Na Yeon risked another comment.

“Sir, she is being really… “

Taehyung had looked at her sternly, cutting her short.

“Say a word against my wife and I’ll fucking fire your ass.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

It was a fine spring day. Taehyung had made sure to check on you before making his way to the study. You had looked ripe. He was sure it was coming soon. The half bastard – half angel was coming soon.

He was talking about a drug deal with another drug lord. The door was closed because the man had demanded it.

Na Yeon was outside, waiting for the meeting to end. She rummaged in her bag to find something. Her hand made contact with the slender wire of her earphones. She started blasting a song, turning the volume up and pressing the buds hard into her ears.

The phone in the study rang, and Taehyung picked it up whilst he was still talking to the man, not noticing the caller ID.

“Taeh-I-I aarghh” The line disconnected.

In a second, he was on his feet, running to the bedroom and throwing the door open. You were lying on the floor, unconscious and out cold. The phone had dropped and switched off on impact with the floor.

“God, Y/N!” he dialed emergency, simultaneously checking your pulse. It felt very weak. “Stay, stay, stay with me,” he muttered, ears ringing in anxiety.

── ⋆✩⋆ ──-

A couple hours later, he was prancing outside the ER, unable to breathe. He didn’t care about the baby. He really didn’t. But you had looked shockingly ill. Your lips had been blue. Dangerously low blood pressure, the nurse had said. He swore he wouldn’t forgive himself if something happened to you.

“Mrs. Kim’s attendant?” The nurse called out, peeking her head out.

“Yeah?” His voice came out dry and raspy. “I’m her… husband.”

“We’re taking her to the labor room, she’s stable and prepped.”

He wiped the sweat off his forehead in relief. He felt like he had just run a marathon. Taking deep breaths, he went off to go wash his face and join you in the labor room.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Ah, shit shit,” he was cursing, the hard squeeze almost breaking his palm. “It’s okay baby, you’re doing great.”

The contractions were fucking painful, and you took great joy in squeezing his hand to death. You were 10 already centimeters dilated, so what was keeping the baby so long?

Taehyung was going crazy by your side, and it didn’t help that at every painful contraction, he screamed at the doctor:

“Get it out, get it the fuck out!”

The pushing started, and you squeezed even harder, inflicting as much pain on him as you could. He took it like a champ, though he swore till his mouth was dry.

“I can see the head, Mrs. Kim! Great job, keep pushing!” the doctor’s voice sounded from between your legs.

“Just a bit more, just a bit more, honey,” he cooed, biting his lips to contain his cussing. He was sure you had broken a few bones in his hand.

With one blood curling scream, you gave one final push, and the room was filled with a hearty cry of an infant.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Kim, it’s a beautiful baby girl.”

The doctor held up the beautiful bundle you and Yoongi had lovingly created, and tears wouldn’t stop trickling down your cheeks at the thought of him missing his daughter’s birth.

“Mr. Kim, do you want to cut the umbilical cord?”

Taehyung went to the foot of the bed. The man who had ruined the father of the baby you had just birthed. His hands were shaking when he snipped the cord. A killer, witnessing the miracle of life. Fucking ironic.

He had the skin-to-skin, as you watched bleary eyed. It was so unfair. Yoongi was supposed to be holding your baby. He was supposed to be crying tears of joy. He was supposed to have the first skin-to-skin

After being cleaned, she was given to you, and the brilliant black eyes made you gasp in happiness. They were exactly Yoongi’s shining ones.

“Do we have a name yet?” the midwife asked mildly, smiling at you.

Taehyung clenched his teeth. It had been the deal, after all. You did get to name the baby if you took his name.

Looking out the window, you smiled at the blue sky. You had chosen the name with great care.

“Ha Neul.” You looked down at the mini Yoongi in your arms. “Min Ha Neul.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Sure, it was a fact that babies needed to be near their mother and stuff, but Taehyung was quickly losing all his patience. Considering your health, the doctor had advised you to stay back for a couple days to monitor the hypotension. And to Taehyung’s annoyance, almost ninety percent of your time was dedicated to rocking, crooning, and- he shuddered- breastfeeding the little tyke.

He hated it when you nursed the baby. It took all his self-control to prevent plucking the little bastard from your arms and throwing her away. You had seen his face a few times, and you had ordered him to get out whenever Ha Neul needed feeding. It only served to make him resent the child more.

He had asked his secretary to send news of the baby being born to the circle. He didn’t want to, but some traditions were traditions, and he couldn’t change them.

A steady stream of visitors came and left, bringing the little one a lot of gifts and clothes. To them, the child was a descendant of the Min family. And that in itself warranted their inclusion in the celebrations of her birth.

Namjoon’s father had called him.

“Joonah, Y/N has given birth to a daughter.”

There were mixed feelings crashing inside Namjoon’s heart when he heard the news. When he didn’t reply, his father pressed.

“Your mother and I have already seen her. She’s just like Min Yoongi.” There was a pause. “You go too, son.”

It was a very confused Namjoon who arrived at the hospital, carrying flowers and a Penguin plushie. He was an uncle. His best friend’s daughter had been born. He remembered how Yoongi had smiled his gummy smile, confiding in him that he wanted his first born to be a daughter. Namjoon’s small fond smile evaporated. Because Yoongi had wanted a mini version of you. You, the bitch who married fucking Kim Taehyung as soon as Yoongi died.

Part of him believed that the child wasn’t Yoongi’s. He told himself that you had probably been screwing Taehyung behind Yoongi’s back, and the girl was possibly Taehyung’s.

You had just burped Ha Neul and laid her down, when Taehyung was hot on your tail.

“You don’t remember Almond, do you?” he hissed.

You turned incredulously. “What is that supposed to mean?”

His lips trembled as he shot a murderous look at your daughter.

“Do you want her to be locked away like he is?”

You leered at him. “The fuck do you want? Don’t you dare threaten me.”

He scoffed in derision. “Kiss me.”

“Fuck off, Taehyung.”

He reached his hand down to the giggling infant. “Well, in that case…”

You threw a punch at his ribs, screaming at him. “Fuck you, bitch.”

He smiled. “So that’s a yes?”

Namjoon raised his hand to knock at the already open door, stopping when he saw Taehyung lean down to kiss you. He gritted his teeth when he saw you kissing him back.

“My tongue, lick my tongue,” Taehyung moaned, and Namjoon’s face crumpled in disgust when you complied. Bitch.

He rapped on the door loudly, making you jump and withdraw back to the propped cushions. Clearing his throat, he spoke tonelessly:

“I- uh, I came to see the baby.”

Taehyung and Namjoon exchanged murderous stares, and your husband stepped away to let the man see the baby.

Namjoon’s doubts vanished as soon as he saw the lovely eyes of your daughter. Just like Min. The little lips were like orange pulp, delicate and soft. He placed his gifts on the bedside table and bent down, crooning at her.

“Hey, little Min, it’s uncle Kim!”

He didn’t bother looking at you, throwing the question at no one in particular.

“Her name?”

You whispered softly, chest puffing up with pride.

“Min Ha Neul.”

He nodded, smiling down at the child, touching her nose gently. If only his best friend had lived to see his fine daughter.

When Namjoon left, he was not sure if he simply disliked you or abhorred you. True, the baby had been Min’s, but he had witnessed you kissing the slimy Kim bastard as if you were eating his face. He called his father after he reached his apartment.

“I saw her, dad, she’s exactly like Yoongi.” His tone changed. “You don’t have to worry about Y/N being unsafe, she is in fact very comfortable with Kim.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Your days were spent changing poop diapers and chasing after your daughter when she crawled near guards with guns. Having the baby and raising her all alone, with zero help from Taehyung, was hard. He was a diva, he wouldn’t even go near a soiled diaper, let alone touch it.

“You made her, you take care of her,” was always the reply when you demanded him to pitch in.

One day though, you had left her in the nursery and gone to take a shower. The water was running, muffling all the sounds from outside your room. You were halfway through your shower, shower gel suds all over your palms and shampoo dripping down your eyebrows, when a piercing squeal almost stopped your heart.

There were a few more squeals, and then Ha Neul’s bawls filled the whole mansion. Wrapping a towel around your soapy body, you dashed out towards the nursery. The cries were still loud, and you tumbled at full speed in her direction.

The door was open, and when you slid to a halt before her crib, Taehyung was there, holding her with a disgusted expression.

“Little piece of-“ he was muttering, shaking her like a ragdoll. When he saw you, he stuffed her into your arms, crinkling his nose up.

“Ger it to stop! Get it to stop! God, I’m going crazy!”

You shushed her, letting her nestle into the safety of your arms.

“What were you doing to her?” you snapped, glaring at him.

He scowled at you, showcasing his arms.

“That dratted bastard- shat all over my hands. Ugh.” He shuddered. “Where the fuck were you? I tried to change her but she wouldn’t fucking shut up.”

A smile threatened to pry your lips open.

He ground his teeth, glaring at the now-calm baby.

“Fucking screams like a hyena,” he said, turning away and stomping off to wash his hands.

When you returned to the bathroom to finish your shower, he was holding the bottle of shampoo, reading the label.

“Funny,” he said, glancing at you as you entered the bathroom. “This label doesn’t mention any fragrance.”

“Huh?”

He squeezed a dollop of shampoo onto his palm and sniffed at it. “I was right, it has no scent.”

“Get out, Kim Taehyung. I need to shower.”

He grabbed the towel and pulled you closer, turning the shower on. The water ran down your damp hair, letting all the bubbles wash away. The wet towel dropped to the floor, bunching around your feet. His hands were all over your shoulders and back, gently kneading your muscles.

You tried to rebel, but his grasp just grew tighter. Deciding to get it over with, you let him caress you. Much to his joy, he pulled you closer and kissed you sweetly. Usually he was aggressive and went for your tongue. But this time it was soft and almost romantic.

He moaned softly into your mouth, cupping the supple flesh of your butt as he thrust his lower body against yours. His eyes were closed when he broke the kiss and roamed down to your neck. There was a sharp prick on the side of your neck, and it vanished just as suddenly when he bent to suckle on the mark.

“God, Y/N,” he murmured, kissing the hickey fervently. “You make me go wild.”

He grabbed your wet locks, sniffing at them like he always did. When he opened his eyes, he was smiling, realization dawning on him.

“It’s not the shampoo. It’s you. You smell like berries.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“It’s time, Se Jong,” the caller said, breathing into the phone conspiratorially. “Her car just zoomed past mine.”

Se Jong drew a deep breath. It had been goddamn hard to get you alone in the car. You only came out of the Kim mansion rarely, and usually a guard accompanied you if you took Ha Neul with you. Taehyung was wary and paranoid that you would try and run away with your daughter.

Se Jong couldn’t risk being identified by any guard. It had taken a whole damn year for him to plan your accident.

Things had started to turn bright for him when the guard stopped accompanying you when you went out without Ha Neul. The chauffeur might recognize him, but he was willing to take that risk. If any of Taehyung’s guards even heard a whisper of what he was about to do, he’d be skinned alive. He was sure of that. Those men were fiercely loyal to their boss. Se Jong scoffed. Dogs. He would become the next mafia lord and they would all come running to worship his feet.

He started the ignition, carefully glancing at the road, waiting for the sleek black car to appear. He had tried to get a hitman, but the wimp had backed out as soon as he had started saying “Kim…” So, he had no choice but to get his hands dirty.

The afternoon rain had left the roads slippery, and it was a stroke of luck on Se Jong’s side when your car came careening around the corner a bit faster than needed. He released the hand brake, hurtling forward at full speed and crashing right in the middle of your vehicle.

── ⋆✩⋆ ──-

The air was filled with smoke, and you couldn’t see properly. The impact had been sudden, and the chauffeur had been knocked out. Coughing and trying to clear your burning throat, you reached out to open the door when it swung wide open. A man’s pants and belt were visible, but it was all so blurred that you couldn’t make out who it was.

His hand reached in, clamping tightly around your eyes as the other arm worked on pulling you out of the car.

“What?” you started to ask before your mouth was covered with the grime-covered hand.

“Shut up,” the man hissed in your ear, pressing your back against his chest as he pulled you to your feet. “Don’t make any noise.”

He was hugging you from behind, one hand covering your mouth and the other pressed against your eyes. He slowly inched you forward, telling you to move one step at a time.

The smell of burnt tires filled your nostrils, and you staggered forward blindly, trying your best to lean away from the man’s chest. The distant sound of a car grew closer and closer, and just as he tried to make you crouch down, you elbowed him sharply.

He cursed in pain, grabbing you by the hair and trying to push you into his car. You attempted to veer around, and a heavy strike sent your head crashing against the doorframe. Your vision blurred, and everything seemed to grow dark.

“Hey!”

A man was calling from somewhere to your left, but you couldn’t focus.

“Hey! Let the lady go!”

The voice was louder now, and you blinked in confusion. Crinkling your eyes in desperate concentration, you tried to see who your assailant was. But just as you turned to face him, a sickening punch hit you like a gunshot, throwing your head back and causing you to tumble. The last sound you heard before your head hit the gravel was the hasty squeal of tires racing away from the scene.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The lights were making your head pound. There were so many people bustling around, but it all seemed to be happening in slow motion. The voices were too hard to comprehend. But you could feel that something was definitely different with your head. There were thick bandages wrapped heavily around your head, feeling like a big boulder was tying you down.

People came in and shone lights into your eyes, telling you instructions in voices so muffled that you couldn’t understand what was being asked of you.

He wasn’t there. You knew that much at least. It was more by instinct that you knew that.

Your body hadn’t tensed up into a tight coil the entire time you were conscious. Maybe you could slip out of the room unnoticed when you felt better. But the pounding in your head was too much to risk an attempt anytime soon.

It was only on the next day that your hearing got clearer. The clogged sensation slowly alleviated, and you could hear the doctors discussing your charts with their colleagues. You wondered if you could try and make a run for it.

You were debating internally as to what should be done. Just as your toe touched the cold hospital marble, the door opened, and your daughter ran in. She made straight for your arms, jumping into the bed, and clasping her little hands around your waist.

“Mmommieeth!”

“Oh! My baby Min!”

Hugging her in joy, you exclaimed at the shiny truck she had dropped in her haste to run to you.

“Oh, what a gorgeous truck!”

She giggled innocently, bunching your gown tightly in her little fingers.

“Daddath,” she lisped happily, and your breath stopped for a second. Slipping in through the doorway was the embodiment of all your worst feelings in the world.

He casually waltzed in, taking note of your foot resting on the floor. He raised one eyebrow cockily.

“Going somewhere?”

He was holding a slew of wrapped lollipops in his hand, as if it were the most common thing in the world for him to carry candy around.

You refused to answer, choosing to settle back into the bed instead. So much for planning to run away.

He sauntered nearer, placing the lollipops down on the bedside tray and reaching a hand out to touch your forehead.

His fingers made slight contact with the bandages, and he sighed heavily.

“Oh, sweet baby wife,” he murmured, his deep baritone voice sending unexpected thrills up your spine. “I shouldn’t let you out of my sight anymore.”

God, was he going to ban you from leaving the house?

“It was an accident…” you whined, hoping that he wouldn’t press the issue any further.

“Lollipop!” your daughter interrupted, thrusting the candy into Taehyung’s big hand. He silently unwrapped it, handing it to her before turning to face you. He moved over and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Y/N,” his tone was serious, “you had surgery. You were out cold for a whole day. You can’t imagine how much I was-“ He bit his lip, and you squinted hard to see if it was a tear shining under his lids.

“I had surgery? What- how? He hit me that hard?”

Taehyung’s jaw tightened in silent fury.

“About that, yeah,” he said, gently pressing your hand. “Who was that? Did you see that son of a bitch?”

You could see his nostrils flaring. It was quite a sight, your daughter cheerfully savoring a candy while Taehyung seethed in stony anger near her, clearly fighting his urge to throw and break things.

“I’ll get that fucking son of a bitch, I will,” he muttered, making you scowl.

“Don’t swear before my daughter,” you snapped, and he nodded absently. When he looked back at you, his eyes were loaded with concern.

The pads of his fingers traced your forehead softly.

“A subdural bleed-“ he was talking to himself at that point, “- how much it would have hurt…” His lips trembled. In anger or in concern you weren’t sure.

The moment was broken when a doctor came in, requesting Taehyung to stay outside for a few minutes while she inspected your bandages.

She smiled at your daughter, pinching her cheek gently. Ha Neul popped the lollipop out just long enough to say “Docthor Mogo.”

The doctor chuckled and nodded. “Hi Mrs. Kim. I’m Dr. Montgomery, I’ll just need to take your vitals and ask you a few questions.”

You smiled at her, throwing the question at her. “Mogo?”

She laughed. “It’s easier to pronounce. You have a very intelligent child.”

You beamed in pride. “Yes, she is. Wait, how does she know you?”

The doctor paused in surprise. “Oh? Mr. Kim- he was here the whole time ever since you got admitted. He simply refused to leave your side. When you went in for surgery, he went home and fetched little Kim too. He hasn’t slept for two days, he’s such a devoted father.”

You looked down at the angelic little girl on your bed. “Little Min,” you said slowly. “She’s little Min.” The doctor didn’t say anything and chose to scribble your vitals down on the chart instead. She turned to leave, but you caught hold of her arm.

“He took care of Ha Neul? He had her the entire time?”

“Yes, Mrs. Kim. I need to jog your memory a bit, can you answer a few questions?”

“What? Yeah okay.”

“Let’s see. What’s in this picture?”

You stared at the flash card dumbly. Was she kidding?

“An umbrella.”

“Good. Can you spell that for me?”

The curiousness got the better of you.

“Why are you asking all this?”

She gazed at you, turning to look at the frosted glass windows. Taehyung’s mop of long hair was barely discernible, he seemed to be talking to another doctor.

“Mrs. Kim, there were complications during the surgery. You have a risk of developing seizures. We are closely monitoring you.”

You had no suitable reply. It was too much to digest.

“Now, Mrs. Kim, can you spell ‘Umbrella’ for me?”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Previously, 3 hours after the accident

“Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung leaped out of the sofa, rushing to the surgeon.  Wo Bin followed him with equal haste. The surgeon was in his scrubs, he had come out to give an update.

“Mr. Kim, I understand this is a very tough time for you-“

Taehyung was shaking all over. He had been unable to breath properly ever since he you had been wheeled into the OR. God, the blood. His precious little bird all cut up, bleeding and bruised.

“Is she- is she-“ he couldn’t form the words, too scared to ask.

“She’s still in surgery, but she’s stable for now Mr. Kim. That’s why I came out. I need to let you know that there was an unexpected complication…”

“What? What happened?”

Taehyung plunged forward urgently, and Wo Bin had to use his full strength to keep his boss from pouncing on the reedy doctor.

“There’s seizure activity in her brain, which might exacerbate post-surgery-“ the doctor said, his eyes round and wary.

“Treat it then,” Taehyung hollered in his deepest growl. “Isn’t that what you do for a living?”

The man in scrubs seemed to grow perplexed.

“You see Mr. Kim, we might have to remove a portion of her temporal lobe to treat it.” He paused awkwardly. “It might lead to significant memory loss. Statistically speaking, around 70% of the patients…”

“No.”

Taehyung cut the doctor midsentence. “No. I won’t consent to it.”

“But Mr. Kim, it is…”

There was a deep sigh. One that Wo Bin was accustomed to fear. He glanced at his boss in alarm.

“I. Said. No.”

The doctor made as if to open his mouth to protest, but Wo Bin shook his head at him. Taehyung fell silent and Wo Bin took charge.

“You will not perform that procedure on Mrs. Kim,” he said, folding his arms. “Isn’t there any other method you could try?”

The doctor explained that the risk of seizures would be dramatically reduced, and that the patient’s quality of life would be so much better if her husband consented to the suggested surgery.

“I will take care of her if she seizes,” Taehyung said sullenly. He was looking down at his shoes, refusing to look at the doctor. “She’s my wife. I will tend to her.”

The surgeon talked to Wo Bin for a couple more minutes and went back into the OR. After the door closed behind him, Wo Bin rounded on his boss, unusually angry.

“Why did you refuse to consent, boss? Don’t you understand? She’ll forget stuff! She might forget Min entirely. Why would you pass up on a chance like that, sir?”

Taehyung collapsed onto the sofa, putting his head in his hands.

“I can’t do that Wo Bin-ah.”

Wo Bin looked down at the bent man in confusion.

“Why not? It’s a second chance. I don’t get it-“

Taehyung had gone completely silent. There were faint sounds of sniffing. When he lifted his head to look up at his aide, tears were ready to spill down his cheeks.

“Don’t you see? She’ll forget Min. She’ll lose whatever little memories she has of him. I can’t do that to her. I have already taken too much from her. I can’t rob her of her memories too.”

He paused to take another sniff. “I don’t want her to be a clean slate. Because her memories and battles make up the woman I love today. I just want her to forget him and learn to love me.”

Wo Bin knew he had crossed the line even before the words left his lips.

“With all due respect, sir, this might be the worst mistake of your life.”

Taehyung stared at him with a defeated smile.

“Then I shall live to regret it.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You seized only twice after the surgery, and Taehyung was there both times. He had made you lie on your side and had held you until they passed.

When you were discharged, he brought home flash cards to keep working your brain. He was ruthless and adamant, and just wouldn’t leave you alone until you finished all the cards successfully.

It was raining one night, and he had been in a particularly long meeting with his mafia men. He kept screaming at Wo Bin to drive faster, he knew you would have skipped dinner and tucked yourself into bed. He never worried about Ha Neul. That tyke was well cared for anyway. It was you who kept him worried.

“Y/N?” He shrugged his coat off, not bothering to hang it on the rack. “Y/N?”

He was right. You were curled in a ball, pretending to be fast asleep so he wouldn’t bother you.

The bed dipped, and his warm breath tickled your skin. He simply rested his head in the crook of your neck, supporting his entire weight on one arm so you wouldn’t be crushed.

“Baby,” he whined, unusually softly. “Come eat.”

You lay completely still, hoping he would leave you alone. But he just didn’t budge.

“Y/N,” he whined again, twisting a strand of your hair around his finger. “I know you’re awake.”

Sigh. Of course, he did. What monstrosity was he planning to put you through? Shrugging him off your body and hoping it hadn’t pissed him off, you got to your feet. There was no point in stalling.

He was mysteriously in a good mood though. Reaching out to entwine his fingers in yours, he dragged you to the living room.

“You ordered Pad Thai?” you asked incredulously.

“Mmm hmm,” he nodded before plopping down on the couch. He proceeded to mindlessly unbutton his shirt and remove his cufflinks. He knew you liked Pad Thai, he had been on his toes all through your pregnancy, running to fetch it for you from the best fast food places in the city.

The muffled jangling of the cufflinks as they dropped down onto the carpet brought a fresh wave of dread crawling over your skin. You stood gaping at him, unsure of what he was up to.

He raised his head and stared at you quizzically. Three buttons of his shirt were open, revealing his sculpted chest perfectly. Propping his legs up on the coffee table, he reached over for the remote.

“Well, aren’t you gonna sit down?”

“I- yes. “

You glanced at him from under your eyelashes. He looked relaxed, there was no indication of anything horrible about to happen.

He casually handed over a food box to you, patting the couch to indicate that you should sit closer to him. When you pretended to not understand, he simply scooted you over even closer.

“There,” he said, sighing happily. “Let’s watch this movie, shall we?”

As if you had a choice.

You had expected the movie to be a typical action flick, filled with stupid car chases and shooting sequences. It was a complete surprise when you found out that it was a romantic film. Taehyung had picked a romantic film? What kind of sorcery was that? You had been sure that he only had an iron padlock for a heart.

The empty food boxes and chopsticks were scattered all over the carpet, and your eyes flickered over to see his reactions when the scenes were particularly unhappy. His face was like a canvas, and a myriad of emotions flashed on it with each scene.

It was almost like the usual Taehyung had vanished and another person had taken his place. The man sitting with his arm over your shoulders, the one who was stealthily sniffing away a few tears, was in no way the man you knew.

It felt natural to Taehyung when he pulled your body snug against his, cuddling into your neck comfortably. He didn’t understand why you were trying to squirm. He wound his arm around your waist, butting his head against yours.

The heavenly scent of berries made him heady with happiness. How perfectly lovely it was, to be able to cuddle and watch a movie with you. Why hadn’t he thought of it sooner?

Taehyung was simmering away in euphoria, lost in his own happy world, while you were subtly squirming in his arms. The movie was going to end, what would happen next? Was he going to violate you? The seed of apprehension grew and grew with each passing moment.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice ever so soft. “What’s the matter? Need a bathroom break?”

His features showed confusion and apparent concern. At that moment, you wished he were his normal sneering self. This new side threatened you and kept you on edge. You knew how to tackle his mean and arrogant side. But you had no understanding or control over his new side. It was scaring you more than you had expected.

“No, I just-“ you couldn’t think of a coherent reply fast enough.

He cupped your face, bringing it closer to his. The final scene played on TV, with the leads kissing each other and then the credits started rolling. He smiled- but it was a very different smile. It wasn’t the leering one he flashed at you often. It was a genuine boxy smile, and it pulled the corners of his lips up naturally.

“Perfect timing,” he crooned, gently pressing a kiss on your lips. It felt extraordinary, and you didn’t know how to respond. An inner voice screamed in your head, shouting that he was going to violate you after all.

So, it was yet another surprise when he pulled away after the kiss, letting his fingers brush your hair into place.

“Let’s go to bed, hm? It’s late.”

He undressed and changed into his pajamas, completely oblivious to the mental rollercoaster you were experiencing. When he turned the lights off and climbed into bed, he stayed on his side of the bed without attempting to trespass into yours.

He patiently waited for your lids to close, and when he was sure that you were asleep, he whispered: “I love you.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Several weeks after, the traces of brain injury completely vanished, leaving you behind with nothing but a scar on your forehead. That would take a good amount of time to vanish, you knew.

You were fit enough to take care of Ha Neul on your own, but Taehyung insisted on keeping the nanny.

“You might seize out of the blue, so I’m not leaving you alone without someone.”

And that was it. He rarely let you argue. It wasn’t like he cut you off deliberately. It was just the tone of his voice that sounded finality before you could think of a retort.

Taehyung had to go and check on a deal in Berlin, but he hated being away from you. Sure, it was just a 3-day trip, but it was a full 72 hours of not seeing you or touching you. He was annoyed when your eyes brightened on hearing the news.

He stood and sulked as he watched you bustle around Ha Neul, trying to get her to stop spitting out her breakfast.

“Someone really is happy that I’m leaving, huh?”

You let your lips stretch in a semi-smile. You enjoyed the little moments when you could spite him and smugly smile without being reprimanded. He might punish you later, yes, but you would deal with that when it came.

Oh, how he wanted to slap that smirk off your face! But he couldn’t. No, he would spend the next three days immersed in guilt if he did. You wouldn’t be near for him to kiss and make up. He was at a loss to find a way to break you.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he glared at Ha Neul, irritated that she was taking so much to time to swallow the damned food. Just like Min, getting in other people’s ways and eating their time.

“Be ready at 7 tonight. We’re going out for dinner.”

He turned to leave after announcing it, but your scoff stopped him.

“We? Who’s we?”

He shrugged. “You and me.”

The arch of your eyebrows wasn’t lost on him.

“Look, you can have all the time with your bastard for the next 3 days. Leave her with the nanny tonight.”

And there it was. That tone again. The tone that simply blocked out further arguments.

You had an ominous feeling that he was warming up to you being his wife, salty or otherwise. Movie and dinner? This wasn’t the Taehyung you knew. He surprised you occasionally with cheesy romantic shit, but he was usually hard and cold. He took what he wanted, claimed you if he needed to, bought you stuff that you threw out without even glancing at them, but he hadn’t ever tried to engage in romance.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Why the hell are you fiddling so much with that?”

Conjuring up your harshest scowl, you snapped back at him. “It’s fucking riding up my ass, that’s why.”

He bit his inner cheek to stifle a chuckle. You looked devilishly cute when you were angry.

“Just fucking let me dress myself, you bitch.”

He hummed, one hand on the steering wheel and the other reaching out to squeeze your thigh.

“Oh, come on, Y/N. We both know you’ll wear a dowdy sweatshirt and torn jeans if I let you dress yourself.”

You decided to emphasize your annoyance by going silent and staring out of the window. Taehyung always chose what you wore. Even at the mansion, when you went nowhere, you had to wear pretty dresses and skirts during the day. You had rebelled at first, but he had simply ripped a good number of tees and shorts that you eventually gave up and aligned to his will.

He had picked a luxurious wine-red dress, he had fallen in love with how beautifully it accentuated your body. It screamed elegance, and you carried it so well even though you swore like a sailor the entire time.

When the maître d’ left after seating you in Taehyung’s chosen table, you pursed your lips at the uncomfortable sensation again. Taehyung noticed it, and something snapped in him.

“Damnit Y/N, can you just wipe the scorn off your face for one fucking minute?” he hissed, his feathers thoroughly ruffled.

“You wear a thong that keeps riding up your butt then,” you sneered back.

Shocked surprise lit up his features, and he burst out laughing. He took your hand and patted it affectionately. His smile was innocent and sickly sweet when he murmured discreetly:

“I’ll rip it off as soon as I can, I promise.”

He talked and talked, telling you stuff he had heard from the elite circle. It was unusual of him to chatter and gossip away, but the change was so different. You ate in silence, listening to him and occasionally nodding your head.

You wished you could prolong the ride back somehow. He had dolled you up for a reason. And it was obvious what he was going to do.

Taehyung was losing patience, watching you slide the panna cotta all around the plate in a lame attempt to buy time.

“You do know I can bend you over this table right now, don’t you sugar?”

He bit his lower lip cockily, staring you down. When you didn’t answer, he simply stood up and reached your side, placing his hands on your hips.

“Don’t!” you whispered urgently, alarmed that he actually proceeded to pull you up to your feet in full view of the entire restaurant.

“Well, let’s go home then,” he crooned into your ear.

“All right, all right, you made your point.”

Taehyung grinned like an imp throughout the car ride back to the mansion, gleefully thinking of ripping off the offending thong. He hadn’t meant for you to be uncomfortable in it. But he wasn’t complaining because he now had a chance to right something for you. Even if it was so trivial as tearing off a thong.

He pounced on you like a starved animal as soon as the door closed. His lips were everywhere, licking and sucking marks into your skin.

“Ha Neul- I need to check on her-“ you moaned, unable to remain passive in the face of the sensual attack.

“No…” he groaned, fingers feverishly roaming on your skin, trying to breathe before he crumbled to dust. “She’s asleep… the nanny-“ he dropped a wet kiss on your collarbone before panting out “- texted me. She’s fine.”

His slender finger reached for the zipper, pulling it down in apparent haste. He loved the way the fabric pooled around your hips, leaving your chest open for him. You had worn a plain bra just to spite him. But to him, simple garment looked infinitely sexier than the choicest lace.

Tugging the dress down, he lifted you and practically threw you on the bed, discarding his coat and shoes urgently.

“Oh, God, Y/N!” he whined, flipping you over and watching the thong in fascination. “So pretty. So incredibly pretty, laid out just for me.”

His big veiny hands caught hold of your wrists, lending you helpless. His brain was short circuiting at the delicious sight before him. Engulfing your tiny wrists in one hand, he reached down to knead the soft flesh with the other. One finger slipped under the elastic band and pulled, snapping the flimsy fabric with ease.

“There, baby” he cooed, his hand cupping your ass. “It can’t disturb you anymore.”

You moaned something into the pillow, but the sound was too garbled to comprehend. Turning you over, he shifted his position, so he was hovering just inches over your body.

“Just let me take care of you,” he breathed, nudging his knee into the crook of your knees. “I’ll make you feel so good.”

You parted your lips to protest, but he drowned out the words with a searing kiss. His hand still had control over your wrists, and he slowly moved down to your navel.

His tongue drew hot lines down your belly, inching tantalizingly closer to your core. Using his free hand, he parted your legs, exposing your swollen core to his depraved eyes.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he said, licking his lips sinfully.

But when he bent down for a taste, you kneed him hard, making him hiss in pain.

“The fuck!” he yelled, clutching his precious nose. He tilted his head up, praying that it didn’t bleed. Goddamn, his wife really was a fighter.

“I don’t know why-“ he leaned over and rummaged through the drawers of his bedside table, “-you keep making this so hard.” He produced a shiny pair of handcuffs, dangling them before your nose. “Now look what you got yourself into.”

“No, I…” you tried to shake your wrists free, eyes wide in alarm.

“Shh, baby. Don’t make me tape your mouth too.”

It was not the rickety sex toy version either. The handcuffs looked like standard issue police ones. Taehyung grinned at your shocked face.

“These,” he ran a finger over the cold metal “-these are from a policeman I shot in a drug bust.” The metal cuffs turned and glinted at you.

“He cuffed me to him, silly bloke. As if someone could cuff me.” He threw his head back and laughed. “I shot his hand to pieces. Served him right. And this- I kept this as a souvenir.” He smiled affectionately, the faint clink of the chain sending shivers up your gut.

He was in a strange temper, and you weren’t sure about escaping unscathed if you rebelled. So, you remained still while he clicked the cuff onto your wrist, securing it to the bedpost. He winked at you, proceeding to take off his shirt while you lay motionless under him.

He now had both hands free to work on you, and he set about parting your legs for him. Smirking coyly, he dipped his head down, pressing his tongue flat against your sensitive bud.

You threw your free hand at him, pulling on his long hair, but his grip around your thighs tightened in response. He didn’t even flinch when you yanked at his thick locks, focusing on leaving kitten licks on your clit.

He groaned into your core, pressing his face harder against your silky folds. The sensation of his quick tongue darting all over you left your knees trembling like jelly. You had a hard time containing your moans, determined not to give him the satisfaction of hearing you moan.

But it spurred him on harder, and his licks became raunchier. He felt your core pulsate, and he knew you were close. Opening your legs wide, he attached his lips to your bud, starting to suckle on it sensually.

“Mm hmm, yes… Cum on my tongue, baby,” he encouraged, nibbling on the swollen hood ever so lightly. He held your thighs tightly, peppering your core with soft kisses as you climaxed and shook like a leaf.

He lapped at your sweet essence, helping you ride through your high. His mouth was wet and shining when he rose up to meet your eyes.

“So fucking sweet, Y/N,” he said, flicking his tongue out and smacking his lips brazenly.

You expected him to unzip his pants and get it over with. But he surprised you yet again. Simply crawling back up, he buried his nose into your chest, not minding the way your nails clawed at him.

He inhaled your scent like he couldn’t get enough of it. He so badly wanted to bury himself inside your velvety walls. He craved being united with you as one body. But no, he would wait.

He would go to Berlin first and then come back to claim you heartily. Maybe being away from him would soften your heart. He couldn’t imagine staying even one night away from you. Would you begin to feel the same way? After all, patient men did get the ripest fruit.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung kept looking at his phone, not caring about the subtle looks thrown his way. His fingers kept drumming against the table, impatient and jittery. His index finger subconsciously went to the notification shade every two seconds, but there was just nothing there to see.

A new notification popped up just then, and his eyes lit up.

Wo Bin

9:28 am : Everything fine at mansion.

9:29 am: Se Jong becoming troublesome.

He swiped it away furiously. He couldn’t care less about some stupid banker acting up. He was sure Wo Bin could handle it. No, he was looking forward to something about you. Just a scrap of news about you. But Wo Bin had to go and text him some random shit like that. He sighed and turned back to the man who was talking.

“We need to be more vigilant; the police are sniffing us out somehow.”

Taehyung tried to focus, but his gaze fell on his phone again exactly three seconds later.

Two hours later, Taehyung was about to push the door and leave when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Kim?”

It was Andrei. He was one of Taehyung’s acquaintances in Berlin.

“Yeah.”

Andrei dropped his voice low. “Care to join me for a drink?”

The bar was weirdly empty, there weren’t a lot of people hanging around. Well, that happened when mafia lords booked the hotel by the dozen. They were a careful bunch; they always played their cards close to their chests. Outsiders were never trusted when one of their meetings was underway.

Andrei toyed with his shot glass, slurring his words slightly.

“So Kim Taehyung is a married man now, huh?” he asked, chuckling slightly.

Taehyung nodded, sipping his drink. A small part of his mind wondered if he should check his phone.

“How did you ever settle down?”

Andrei looked genuinely curious. He only knew of Taehyung’s philandering side. He had been surprised on learning about the wedding.

“She’s-“ Taehyung racked his brain for words “- exquisite. I just knew. That she was the one for me.”

Andrei raised his glass in agreement. “Good for you, man.” He considered for a moment, gazing at Taehyung before parting his lips again.

“If you want, I can send Victoria to keep you company. You know, tonight.”

The Taehyung of older days would have jumped at the suggestion, launching into an interested inquiry of what the woman could offer. But now, he only shook his head, gripping his glass tight.

“No, Andrei. I’m married.”

The man smiled slyly. “You absolutely sure? She’s damn hot.”

“I’m sure. I’m a changed man, Andrei.”

Andrei nodded, looking at Taehyung thoughtfully. “I can see that.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Yoongi was humming to himself, hammering away at his laptop. He usually didn’t carry his work home. But this one was important. He had to finish drafting the presentation he was going to make the next morning.

“Busy much?”

You were leaning against the doorframe, playing with the sash of your dressing gown.

He looked up and crinkled his nose cutely.

“Just a couple more hours, baby girl.”

Clicking your tongue in disapproval, you loosened the sash and let your dressing gown drop down your shoulders to the floor.

“Can’t wait that long,” you crooned, giving him your sexiest drawl. “Need you inside me. Now.”

His fingers stopped typing, and a slow smirk dawned on his lips. He was so damn handsome when he smirked like that.

He kept his eyes focused on the screen, uttering the words in a blunt tone: “Come and take what you want then.”

Giggling in excitement, you rushed over to him, throwing your legs over his lap to straddle him. He smelt so good, just like he always did. You knew his scent by heart. It was the faintest note of cologne, fresh and pleasant like morning dew. He could come back dripping with sweat after gym, but he would still smell heavenly. It was just- so Yoongi of him.

“You’re blocking my view, Mrs. Min,” he said, not caring to look at your eager face.

“Oh, I’ll be out of it in a second, Mr. Min,” you replied, licking the shell of his ear.

The smug devil didn’t bat an eyelid, concentrating on typing whatever was clearly more important than his hot wife eating his earlobes. You decided to accelerate things further.

Grinding against his crotch, you hooked your chin on his shoulder to keep out of his way. You could feel him stirring in his pants, and soon enough he was hard as nails. Allowing yourself a proud smile, you nibbled on his shoulder blade, making him moan despite his best efforts.

You were satisfied at his response. Besides, you were aching for him already. You got off his lap, sinking down to your knees. He still wasn’t looking at you. Well, he would soon.

Instead of taking him out, you chose to palm him through his night pants. The tent in his pants left your mouth watering in anticipation. You looked up; he was still typing. Time for drastic measures.

Leaning forward, you pressed your mouth against the hard muscle, the thin fabric dampening up with your saliva. The friction of the cloth was too much to bear, and he moaned out loud.

“Fuck, Y/N!”

He shut the laptop down with a snap, to hell with the presentation. Grabbing you by your hair, he pulled you in level with his crotch. You stared back at him, tracing your lips with your tongue. Damn you. Want flooded his veins, sending a searing sensation shooting through his length.

“Up,” he said, snapping his fingers at you.

You loved it when he was horny and pissed. It made for a deliciously passionate Yoongi. Hastening to stand up, you looked at him expectantly. He motioned towards his pants, his dominant streak glinting dangerously in his eyes.

“Get my dick out.” He bit his lip before adding: “And lose your bra.”

Without a word, you peeled his pants off, shaking in excitement. His thighs were strong and muscular, just as perfect as the rest of him. He waited until you freed your breasts and patted his lap.

“On my thigh, slut.”

You pouted in disappointment. He noticed that and laughed impishly.

“What? You don’t get to sit on my cock until I say so.” He narrowed his eyes at you, loving the lust shining raw on your features. “Serves you right for teasing me.”

“But Yoongiiiiiii….” you drawled, only to be silenced with a piercing glare.

“Ride my thigh, come on,” he said. “Let me see those tits bounce.”

Fuck, he was making you so wet. Climbing into his lap again, you grabbed his shoulder and steadied yourself. He hadn’t told you to get out of your undies yet. You knew the friction was going to make you go wild.

“Go on,” he said, settling back lazily against the headrest of his chair. You slowly started moving, gripping his shoulders tight. He didn’t make any move to touch or hold you. He simply watched your face in fascination, observing every fleeting emotion with pride.

You were inching closer to your orgasm, and he stilled your hips with a steel grip. Your protesting mewls were music to his ears. A long bony finger pushed your soaked undies away, and his firm hands pulled your hips onto his hard cock.

He slammed his hips up, and started thrusting into you in a punishing rhythm, eliciting fierce curses and strangled moans from deep inside your chest.

“Damn, that’s it baby, bounce on my cock,” he praised, growling in primal want.

You could have sworn you saw the bushes outside the window move. But when you looked down to tell Yoongi, the feral lust swimming in his eyes washed every thought off your mind. He really was fucking your brains out.

“What is it, baby girl?”

Your mind was in complete shambles, and you knew he loved it. Especially when you struggled for words while he had you impaled on his cock.

“I- spank me…”

He grinned, landing a soft slap on your butt cheek. “Use your words and ask me nicely.”

“Oh, damn you Yoongi,” you whined, throwing your head back and exposing your neck. “Spank me, please.”

“Now, that’s a good girl.”

Min Yoongi had the smallest and most delicate of hands. But that didn’t mean his slaps were any less harsh. He could give you a mean spank, leaving hot red prints all over your ass if he liked. And right now, he chose to use that to his full advantage.

He lifted his hand, licking his lips and preparing to rain a volley of slaps on your butt. Closing your eyes, you rutted against him, waiting to feel the first sting.

“Y/N!”

When you opened your eyes, Yoongi was staring at you blankly. His eyes were shining with unshed tears.

You cupped his cheeks, puzzled. “What’s it, honey?”

A set of big hands snaked around your waist. You looked at Yoongi in confusion.

“What-“ you started to say, and froze in horror as Yoongi’s face slowly faded away, wiping all your happiness away with it. Everything went suddenly dark, and an unbearable coldness settled in, smothering you.

“No!” You thrashed about violently, desperate to see Yoongi, desperate to touch him again.

“Shh, Y/N, it’s fine.” The voice hummed in your ear, pulling you towards something warm.

You opened your eyes and gazed directly into Kim Taehyung’s radiant eyes.

“It’s okay baby, I’m back.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Dawn was beginning to break, and Taehyung was severely jetlagged. He assumed you would go right back to sleep. But you remained wide awake, silent tears streaming down your cheeks.

His heart felt all mushy and happy. Had you missed him? Were you crying because your feelings were overwhelmed? Maybe you had felt relieved that he had woken you up from your nightmare in time.

“Bad dream, darling?” he asked, carding his fingers through your hair.

He wouldn’t leave you alone anymore, he would always be there to chase away your nightmares. He resolved to himself that he would protect you from anything, even your own mind.

You lay still, not bothering to respond.

The semi-darkness lent your face a mysterious look, and Taehyung wasn’t sure if the gleam in your eyes was anger or joy.

His unusual softness assured him that it was joy. He told himself that it would be confusing at first and you needed time to warm up to the idea of loving him.

Birds started chirping outside, sunrise was very near. He traced your cheek with his thumb, wanting to kiss you. When he pulled you closer, there was no resistance. Cheering up considerably, he brushed his lips against yours.

When you didn’t flinch, he deepened the kiss, softly moaning into your mouth. The smoldering hunger stirred deep in his belly, consuming him completely. He climbed on top of you ever so lightly, kissing your neck and leaving wet splotches all over your chest.

He had waited for so long, and the tension had built up into a crescendo. He was panting when he fished himself out of his trousers, one hand fiddling with your shorts. He shimmied down the fabric, clawing at it in haste.

The first rays of sunlight broke the darkness, lighting up the room with a rosy hue. He whimpered when the head of his member made contact with your entrance.

“I’m home,” he said, pushing himself inside in one long shove. He slowly started to rock his hips, he wanted to be slow and sensual for a change.

You closed your eyes, and everything came flooding back. It was like your lips had a mind of their own. Before you knew, you had moaned it out loud.

“Yoongi…”

Taehyung’s hips stilled, his hard member still buried inside you. It hurt him like a violent slap. Slipping out of your core, he could hardly contain his angry tears while he dressed himself back up. You had moaned… for Yoongi?

He wanted to leave without saying anything. But he stopped just near the door.

“Tell me just one thing- whenever we… had sex, did you….”

Your vacant eyes chilled his blood. You mumbled silently, almost like you were talking to yourself.

“I Imagined Yoongi…”

He stormed out of the room, rushing to the guest bedroom to unleash the sobs bubbling up his throat. Taehyung never knew that he could hate you. It surprised and upset him to know how much he despised you for insulting him like that. It left a bitter aftertaste in his tongue.

When Taehyung finally stopped sniffing, he made up his mind. You weren’t changing. He would be fighting a dead man for the rest of his life. If you couldn’t warm up to his romance, it was fine. He would just return to being a mean bastard you rebelled against. Being feared was better than being insulted and trampled upon.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung’s behavior went from romantic to mean and waxed meaner over the course of days. He ignored your presence completely, choosing to leave home at dawn and return at midnight just to avoid seeing you.

He broke things in sudden fits of temper, and every morning you woke up to more and more smashed vases and glass. You kept Ha Neul well out of his way, there was no telling what he might do if he got his hands on her.

Taehyung, on the other hand, was torn between his all-consuming obsession over you and the new-found disgust he had for you. It scared him when he realized how much it was affecting his mind. He had to choose a way to saddle his dark feelings and rein them in. Because, after all, you were his Y/N. His precious Y/N he would do anything for.

Almost a month after he returned from Berlin, almost a month after avoiding you like the plague, Kim Taehyung decided that enough was enough.

He returned home in the evening, slamming the door unnecessarily loud. That was a signal these days to announce his arrival and departure.

“Y/N!” The slight bitterness in his voice surprised him.

Ha Neul’s giggle sounded from somewhere deep in the nursery, and he followed the sound until he was standing before you.

You were kneeling on the floor, clutching onto your daughter fearfully. You didn’t care if he hurt you. Hell, you would even karate chop him right back. But you were nervous when he was around your child.

He glared at the toddler, throwing his most hostile look her way.

“Bedroom, now.”

You dragged yourself to the bedroom after handing Ha Neul over to the nanny. You had no clue what he was going to do to you. He had been like a zombie for the past month, slinking away into the shadows and disappearing all day. What was in store for you in the bedroom?

Taehyung was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you. When you entered the room, he manspread his legs and snapped his fingers.

“On your knees,” he tapped on the floor with his shoe, “here.”

You hesitated, and his eyebrows knotted dangerously.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Swallowing your pride, you knelt before his spread legs, his crotch in full display right before your eyes.

He bunched your hair in his fist, pulling you towards him. He rubbed your face against his clothed crotch a little harsher than he had planned to.

“This cock-“ he said, pressing your face against him, “this cock is the only one you’ll get in this lifetime. Better get used to it.”

Yanking your hair, he tilted your head, so your eyes were staring into his.

“If you say his name again, I’ll break your daughter’s neck.”

He was pulling hard on your hair, and the roots were beginning to sting.

“Am I clear, bitch?”

You silently nodded, not trusting your voice enough. He let go of your hair with a mean tug, and you wobbled on your knees.

“Open your mouth.”

You were late in complying, earning a hard slap in reward. Your cheek felt burning hot. He ground his teeth and slapped the other cheek, releasing all the pent-up anger boiling in his chest. Grabbing you like a ragdoll, he gripped your jaw tight and puckered your lips open.

“You don’t deserve my cock,” he spat out, forcing two slender fingers into your mouth. “This is all you get until you earn it.”

He pumped the fingers in and out, setting a harsh rhythm. His fingers were long and slender, and it was a feat to accommodate them all the way up to the knuckles. He added a third finger, not slowing one bit when you whimpered in protest.

“Shut up and take it,” he growled, driving them deeper and deeper until you gagged and coughed around the digits.

He waited until you regained your breath. Then he removed his fingers, scooping up the drool running down your chin. He then dragged his fingers on your cheeks, painting them in drool.

Grabbing you by the neck, he leaned over to breathe in your face:

“You can hate me all you want, but I’m never letting you go. Imagine him all you want, but the dick fucking into you will always be mine.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The days rolled by quickly, and before you knew it, Ha Neul had turned 2 years old. She had started running and jumping, and she followed Taehyung around whenever he dressed up for work, hoping for a ride in his car.

It was a sunny April morning. You had asked your chauffeur to take you and Ha Neul shopping. She had to get vaccinated, and you had to pick some stuff from the store on the way back. The car was ready, and a guard quietly gave you the message.

Knocking on the bathroom door, you shouted to Taehyung.

“I need your credit card. I’m going out.”

The sound of the running shower immediately stopped. The door opened, and he leaned on the frame, his whole body on display.

“And where exactly is my baby girl going?”

Trying to forget the way his cock stood half-erect, you mumbled out: “Ha Neul’s vaccination.”

Taehyung didn’t let you have money of your own. He wanted you to be dependent on him. That way, you would always stay with him.

He had never forgiven you for moaning Yoongi’s name that one time. Whenever you wanted something, he made it a point to make you beg him. Usually, he made you suck him off, or ride him, just to go to the store or to grab cake for Ha Neul.

You weren’t allowed to ask the guards to get stuff for Ha Neul. They would simply nod their heads but not comply. Because they served Taehyung. And his orders took priority over yours.

“Just give me the card,” you huffed, annoyed at him.

He shook his hair like a puppy, sending water droplets flying all around, some landing on your face and clothes.

You took a step back, patting at the random drops spraying on you. “Ew. Cut it out, Taehyung.”

He grinned, grabbing you and grinding himself against you, wetting your clothes slightly. He was stark naked, in full contrast to your fully clothed body.

“Where’s the brat?” his tone was casual.

You bit back a curse word. “She has a name. Min Ha Neul is in the nursery.”

The annoyance on his face satisfied you to no end. “Why do you insist on calling her that every time?”

“Calling her what? Min Ha Neul? That’s her name.” You weren’t backing down in the slightest.

He leaned down to nip at your jaw. “Hmm. Very well, Y/N Kim.”

It was your turn to snap at him. “Stop calling me that.”

He smiled into your skin. Riling you up was so much fun.

“That’s your name, baby. To get the credit card, come soap me up and wash me.”

“Forget it, bitch,” you sneered, shaking him off.

“Not so fast, honey. Don’t you want her to get vaccinated?”

He thought you looked absolutely beautiful when you were angry. Oh, how he wanted to slam you against the door and fuck you into oblivion!

Not sparing a glance at him, you peeled your clothes off, stripping down to your underwear. He grinned.

“Might as well remove them, no?”

You wanted to slap the smile off his face.

“Fucking get back in the shower, Taehyung.”

He felt a sizzling electric jolt down his spine when you soaped him, lathering up and spreading the foam all over his chest. He was choking on his breath when he whined “My cock, ah Y/N, grab my cock.”

He shivered at the feeling of your warm hands slipping around his length. The feeling was delicious, making him roll his closed eyes under his lids. He enjoyed your little fingers caressing his skin, and when you knelt to soap his legs, he went wild.

The shower washed off the lather, leaving him sparkling clean. Before you had a chance to get up, he dug his hard dick into your face. Your head was caught between the wall and his strong thighs, and you were left with no other choice.

“Shit, suck me, go on, suck me with that hot little mouth.”

He slapped his dick against your cheek, ruining the makeup and leaving a mixture of water and pre-cum glistening on your skin.

“Go on, baby, I’m oh so clean. Suck my cock.”

He popped your mouth open, sliding himself in and hissing at the sensation.

“Like my cock, baby? Nibble along the shaft, yes,” he panted, looking down at you, face contorting in pleasure. “Like having my fat cock inside your mouth?”

You replied something, probably a curse, but it came out muffled around his cock. The vibration made him lose himself, thrusting deeper and deeper against your throat.

“Ah, swallow me, yes, fucking swallow my dick, Y/N.”

He bottomed out against your mouth, the prickly hair on his balls making the tip of your nose itch. His fingers felt around your throat, trying to feel himself through the skin of your neck.

“Swallow, baby,” he cooed, and you gagged a little, trying to swallow around him. His fingers felt the bulge in your throat, and his dick pulsed at the heady sensation, making him cum hard into your mouth. You almost choked on the cum, your throat feeling raw and sore.

He picked you up on your feet, muttering praises and kissing whichever part of skin he could find. Wiping your mouth, you stared at the floor and asked, “Can I get the card now?”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Baby,” he called, calling your attention to him as you tried to sneak past the living room. “Forgot something?”

You took a deep breath, giving up. There was no point in sneaking around him. The guy seemed to smell your presence.

“I’m going to tuck Ha Neul in,” you replied, not quite looking at him. “She fell asleep on the way back.”

He turned his gaze from his laptop, nodding absently. “Come back in five. And don’t forget.”

You went away, preoccupied with thinking of the man who had followed you around in the store. He had worn a mask, covering his lower face, and had been hot on your tail until you had reached your car. He had looked like he had something to say to you. But as soon as he had laid eyes on the car, he had disappeared. Who could it have been? You had no idea.

When you returned after getting your daughter to bed, he was waiting for you. He extended his hand, and you slipped the papers into it.

Taehyung always wanted the complete receipts and details of what you had bought, where you had gone and whom you had met whenever you went out. It was mostly to make sure you weren’t planning an escape or meeting some other guy.

His quickly scanned through the receipts, suddenly pausing, and looking at you ominously.

“Tampons, honey?”

His tone was controlled, but chilling, nonetheless. You had deliberately bought a lot of useless items to cover the fucking tampons.

“Yes. What about them?”

He sighed, skimming through the rest of the items on the bill.

“Y/N, it’s been two years.” He sighed again. “You know we want a baby.”

You recoiled, you had suspected he would say that, but to hear that out loud terrified you.

“Well, I don’t.”

He didn’t answer. He knew you would of course reject him. But it had already been two fucking years. He had tolerated that little tyke Min had sired just because he loved you. But however much he thought about it, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that Ha Neul was more important to you.

He had sent Almond away; the dog was under Wo Bin’s care. But he couldn’t separate Ha Neul from you. He burned with jealousy whenever you kissed her or ruffled her hair. The dratted child had inherited her father’s gummy smile, much to Taehyung’s annoyance.

He wanted to feel closer to you, he needed to make you love him. Seeing you showering your love on the fruit of another man’s seed was humiliating to say the very least. He would give you a child, making you tend to his baby, effectively pulling you closer to him.

He wasn’t sure he liked babies. He hated smelly diapers and wet beds. But he would have to bear those if he wanted you to carry his child.

“Y/N, it’s time we started a family. You know it.”

You felt like screaming and breaking things.

“What part of ‘I hate you’ do you not get?”

He stood up, asserting his dominance by rising to his full height.

“I let you have that bastard’s child, I let her eat and sleep under my roof, I let her fucking have her damned surname,” he said, inching closer and closer, “And this is how you repay me?”

You perked up your chest, standing upright and biting the words out: “I don’t owe you anything. You ruined my life.”

He scoffed, a spray of spit landing on your face. “Don’t you dare talk back to me. You’ll only make things worse for you.”

“Oh? And how, exactly?”

He flushed in anger, looking out the window. It had started drizzling. Making up his mind, he stormed out of the room. You weren’t sure if you should follow. A few seconds later, you heard your daughter wail.

“Ha Neul?” You rushed to the nursery but stopped midway when you saw Taehyung carrying her down the stairs.

“Wait, what are you doing?” you screamed, following him in hot pursuit. He was quicker than you, and just as your feet touched the landing, he slammed the door on your daughter, letting her stand outside in the rain.

“What the hell, Taehyung? Open the door!”

You saw him turn the key in the lock, and he grinned sneakily as he dropped the key into his pants. Throwing yourself at him and pummeling at his chest, you sobbed at him to open the door.

“Please,” you begged, seeing through the window that the rain had started falling in torrents. “Please let her in.”

“I think not,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning his back against the door.

“What do you want? Please, anything…”

He cocked his eyebrows.

“Anything?” When you nodded, he thrust his hips out, still leaning. “Fish the key out of my pants.”

You dropped to your knees in haste, unzipping him and searching for the key. Your fingers brushed against hot muscle instead, and he lazily drawled above you:

“Kiss the tip and tell me you love me.”

Furious tears pricked your eyes, and you swallowed the bitter taste at the back of your throat. Taking his dick out, you kissed the angry red tip, muttering a weak “I love you.”

“Say, I love you Taehyungie.”

You couldn’t wait to grab your cold wet child shivering outside. Kissing the tip again, you looked up at him and bit the words out.

“I love you, Taehyungie.”

He grinned and let you take the key. He was already uncomfortable by sensation of the cold metal rubbing against his hot dick.

You hit him across the jaw, punching with all your might. He responded by shifting his position to let you put the key in the lock.

Before you turned it though, he grabbed you by the hips, his fingers searching under your dress for the crotch of your undies. Ripping it easily, he slammed himself inside you. You turned the lock. But you couldn’t open the door, not with him buried inside you.

“Let me get her first,” you whimpered, struggling to get away.

“Take me, baby,” he said, pushing himself deeper. “Make me cum and you can get her.”

Blowing out your cheeks, you clenched your pelvic muscle tight around him, repeating it mindlessly until he was a gasping mess.

“Oh, oh yes,” he whined, driving harder and harder, finally cumming hard. He slid himself out, letting go of your hips.

“Go get her. She’ll catch a cold, sweetie.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Mrs. Kim?”

The voice of your chauffeur cut through your thoughts, catching your attention.

“Your pills, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Seung Jo,” you breathed. Taehyung never would know how you got your birth control pills. You were so grateful that Seung Jo was loyal to you. You had no idea why, but he was very friendly, he seemed to understand that you were living the life of a caged bird.

He had been smuggling you the pills for a long time, and no one had ever found out. Taehyung had been vocal about you not getting pregnant however much he tried. He didn’t let you get up after sex, rather he made you lie down and tuck your legs. He carefully calculated your ovulation dates. But nothing came of his efforts. Except monthly bills that included tampons, of course.

“Seung Jo, can you do me a favor?”

He looked at your image in the rearview mirror. “Anything, ma’am.”

“I- can you check on Mrs. Min at the Klammer Institute on my behalf?”

He nodded silently. “Anything else, ma’am?”

You looked down at your shoes, chewing out the question. “Why are you not more like Taehyung’s men? What makes you keep secrets for me?”

He smiled and shrugged lightly. “I like you.”

The signal turned green and you lurched forward a bit. “Excuse me?”

He repeated patiently. “I said, I like you.”

“Are you aware that Taehyung would blow your brains out if he heard about this?”

Seung Jo glided the car to a stop. “You hadn’t any idea that I liked you all this time?”

You fell silent. There was no way to know if he was being serious. Maybe it was a trap Taehyung had set. You had to be cautious.

“Well, Mrs. Kim? Tongue-tied?”

“Get the car moving, Seung Jo,” was the only thing you could reply.

Just before the car nosed into the mansion, he whispered in a low voice:

“I think I love you.”

You stared at his reflection, dumbfound. He continued.

“I’ve known you for more than two years, do you think I can’t see how unhappy you are?”

“Seung Jo,” you said, warningly.

“Just think about it,” he said, turning the ignition off. He got out of the car and held the door open for you, meeting your eyes for a brief moment, the look laden with meaning.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Mommy?” Ha Neul called, her cute lips curving around the words. She was very smart, and had started talking in long meaningful sentences.

“Yes, honey?”

She tugged at her pigtails, forming the sentence in her head.

“Why- my name is Min? Father’s name and yours are Kim?” The lilt of the second question suggested innocent curiosity.

Taehyung lowered the newspaper, glaring at the back of her head. You smiled, gathering her up and sitting her down on your lap.

“Because, sweetie, mommy was married to Min Yoongi, your daddy.”

Her sweet voice took on a confused tone. “What happened to daddy?”

You sent a scorching glare to Taehyung before replying, “He died, baby. A bad man killed him.”

Taehyung threw his paper down. “Is this necessary? Should she know the details?”

“She deserves to know the truth,” you snapped.

The child looked at you, not understanding the banter. “Bad man?”

You nodded sadly. She asked again, crooning: “Daddy was a good man?”

A smile dawned on your lips, and you replied earnestly, “He was the best man in the world, sweetheart.”

She went silent, her little brain working to grasp the information. Taehyung’s eyes shot daggers at you, which you steadily ignored.

“Mommy,” she said again, “Can I call father daddy?”

You looked up at the man in question. His face registered surprise. He hadn’t quite expected that.

He cleared his throat and replied gruffly, “You can call me that, Ha Neul.”

The brightness of her gummy smile melted your heart. God, she was just like Yoongi. So adorable.

“Daddy,” she said, feeling the word rolling off her tongue. She ran towards Taehyung, innocently clinging to his forearm.

“Daddy, when can I go to school?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows shot up. He addressed you, asking, “Didn’t we decide to homeschool her?”

Ha Neul spoke up for herself, waving her hands. “Daddy, Mr. Soh says school is wonderful! Pencils, paper, desks,” she started counting them off on her little fingers.

“Alright, honey,” you said, attempting to steer the conversation towards calmer topics. “Daddy and mommy will think about it.”

Mr. Soh was Ha Neul’s homeschool teacher, he came by thrice a week. He had probably planted the idea of school in her mind.

After Ha Neul got bored and ran off to play ball, Taehyung hissed at you angrily.

“I’m not letting you or her out of this house.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The sound of the waves crashing filled your ears, salt heavy in the air and reminding you of the terrible day you had spent dangling on a suspension bridge.

“Mrs. Kim?” You turned. “Thanks for meeting me.”

You were silent, the blank look on your face replaced with shock when he removed the mask and took off his shades.

“Bong Ju?” you gasped, a wave of fear jolting your heart. “What do you want?”

He took a hesitant step forward; palms open to show he meant no harm.

“I have to give you something, I tried hard to meet you, but it was almost impossible.”

You watched in fear as he dipped his hand inside his coat pocket, your breath relaxing when he pulled out a sealed envelope.

“I’m sorry for a lot of things, Mrs. Kim, I have betrayed you so much. But this,” he extended the envelope to you, “this belongs to you.”

“What is it?” you whispered, scared to touch it.

“Mr. Min, he gave it to me for safekeeping. He-“ the man gulped, “-he wanted you to have it in case he was gone before you.”

You shook your head in disbelief.

“Why did you wait so long then? You fucking betrayed him and me. Why should I believe you?”

He nodded, guilt weighing his features down.

“I had to do it, Mrs. K- Mrs. Min, I was blackmailed to do it. Kim Taehyung threatened to kill my sister and her family if I didn’t help him.”

Tears streamed down his face. “I took the money and fled, but my sister- she died in a plane crash. Her whole family.” A loud sob interrupted his flow. “I think it’s karma, I deserved it for betraying you. I am really very sorry, Mrs. Min.”

“But you- you were the prime witness…”

“Witness? What witness? What are you talking about?”

You shrank back in alarm.

“You don’t know about the inquest? Weren’t you the state’s prime witness?”

He tilted his head in confusion. “I don’t understand. An inquest, you say?”

Cold dread filled the crevices of your heart, rising up steadily, threatening to crush your ribs.

“But- I thought… How did you know where I was?”

His features were still confused when he answered:

“Kang Minsook, a lawyer called me a few weeks ago.”

Your mouth widened. “Where were you three years ago? How do you know Minsook?”

He shrugged, wide eyed.

“I fled to the Bahamas after you ran to rescue Mr. Min. I didn’t know he was dead until Mr. Kang called recently. I flew back and saw you had married Taehyung. I thought you didn’t require to read the letter, but…” his voice trailed off. “…But I asked around and heard a lot about what had happened. Mr. Min made me swear I would deliver it to you.”

“Didn’t Minsook tell you about the case?”

“I don’t know of any case. He only asked if I used to work for Mr. Min and whether I knew he was dead.”

The whole earth stopped spinning. There had been no prime witness! Bong Ju hadn’t even known about the case. Minsook hadn’t discovered about Bong Ju at all. You swallowed the truth. It dawned on you that Minsook never mentioned a witness in court, only Taehyung and your attorney had hinted that Bong Ju was the prosecution’s witness. Taehyung had well and truly played you.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Fragments of Yoongi’s letter kept returning to haunt you. It had been five pages long. You knew he had poured his heart into it, there was such emotion in the words. According to the date, it had been written on the day of your first wedding anniversary.

His words filled the deep void left by his sudden departure, at least to a certain extent. The papers had creases in them, caused by your repeated folding and unfolding over the course of weeks. You kept re-reading it whenever you had the chance, just to hold on to the ghost of his memory a little longer. Dear, wonderful, passionate, loving Yoongi.

“Y/N?” the arms gently shook your shoulders, breaking the spell.

“Huh?”

“I said, I love you.” He leaned into you, his concerned look searching your face. “You okay?”

“I-“  You looked at Seung Jo’s chocolate brown eyes. “I don’t know.”

He let go of you, leaning against the car. “What do you mean?”

“Seung Jo.” You took a whiff of the salty air. “I have a 3-year-old daughter. My husband is a businessman with roots in the mafia. He would kill us if he knew.”

He scoffed, taking your hand, and pressing it lightly.

“Y/N, remember, I love you and your daughter. I am not afraid of Taehyung. I can make you happy. Just say yes and I’ll take you away.”

It did sound alluring. But you didn’t love him back. He seemed sweet and genuine, but that was it. You looked at the brown wisps of hair dancing on his forehead. He was young, the honey toned skin was taut over his prominent veins. He was cute, yes. Did you love him? No.

Yoongi’s letter fluttered back to your mind.

I have kept aside 5 million dollars for us, Y/N. We can use it for our baby, we can add to it every year. I will be so proud on the day our baby is born. I am sure our firstborn would be a girl, just as beautiful and wonderful as her mom. I can’t wait to see you glowing with our child, I can’t wait to hold her tiny fingers in mine.

You stifled a sob. The pain was still fresh. You would never believe that three years had gone already. His letter ended with a note, saying that if he ever died, you were supposed to use the money in case it wasn’t withdrawn already. He had written that he would add a million dollars for every anniversary he celebrated with you. The account details had been written in his neat handwriting.

If I go before you, Y/N, even if I’m 60 and you’re 59, if we haven’t already used up the money, take it. Live happily. I want only the best for you, my love.

It made you guilty that you were even thinking of eloping with Seung Jo. You didn’t love him. But he was your entry pass to the outside world. Maybe, just maybe, after you got out of Taehyung’s clutches, you could explain it all to Seung Jo and part ways. But you knew you needed Seung Jo’s help to get out. You wouldn’t tell him about Yoongi’s secret trust fund, you weren’t sure about revealing that.

Your resolve crumbled, and you caved, asking for more time. He drove you back home, dropping you off dutifully.

When you entered the house, Taehyung was coming out of the basement, unaware of your figure standing on the hearthrug. His torso was naked, save for the chain around his neck. He was holding the key looped in the chain in his hand as he ascended the steps, not seeing you in the least.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Wo Bin sought a meeting with Taehyung, giving him the security update for the week.

“Mr. Kim,” he started cautiously, looking at his boss in wary apprehension.

“Yes?”

“It’s Se Jong again, he has been a sore pain in the ass for months, boss.”

Taehyung blew out his cheeks and sighed.

“I know, Bin-ah, but his brother was very loyal to me. He took a bullet and died for me. And Se Jong is helpful with the money matters.”

Wo Bin hesitated. “Yes, about that…”

“What is it?”

“Mrs. Kim was seen at the bank yesterday. She was enquiring about a withdrawal. Se Jong brought it to our notice.”

Taehyung sat up in concern. It was unusual of you to go to any bank. You only had credit cards which he gave after you satisfied his quirks. What was the need for going to the bank? He knew that more details were yet to come, else his man would have already told them without being prompted to.

“Keep an eye on her banking interests, tell Se Jong to be alert.”

Wo Bin nodded, readying himself to speak again.

“Also,” he drawled, waiting until he had his boss’s attention. “Our man at the docks informed that Bong Ju was seen in the city. We don’t have the details of where he went or who he met yet.”

Taehyung leaned back in his chair, a faint worry nagging him. Bong Ju had been told to stay put in the Bahamas if he wanted his sister’s family to stay alive. It was a breach on his part to flout the order. Why had he come? Did it have anything to do with you?

“Keep asking around. I need to know if he crossed paths with my wife.”

He decided to leave early and be near you for the rest of the afternoon.

On his way out, Taehyung absently walked by the aisle of cubicles, thinking about your new interest in finance. What were you up to? His guards always gave him clean reports of your whereabouts, it didn’t seem like you had found a new guy.

As he passed a cubicle, a pair of sultry eyes looked up at him. He froze spontaneously. Stepping towards the eyes led his gaze to a prominent cleavage, a beauty mark right at the middle of it. His mind raced to the masquerade ball, the night when the mysterious masked woman kissed him.

“You.”

She got up, eyeing him steadily. She never broke eye contact as she traced her vixen steps, affirming his suspicion. She flicked her hand at him, dipping it into his breast pocket and pulling out the pocket square. She was still gazing at him when she pressed it against her lips, winked coyly, and tucked it back in its place with a smoot pat.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Where’s Taehyung?” You inquired casually, careful not to look too interested.

“He is at the cottage, Mrs. Kim.”

Cottage. Basement. Yoongi.

The word opened a dam of traumatic memories. “Oh, yes, I see.”

Your hands were shaking nervously when you returned to the bedroom. So, he was away. He’d probably be late. It gave you ample time to rummage around for passports. Ha Neul had her own passport too, he had taken you and Ha Neul to Paris on a vacation. The passports had to be somewhere, right in his closet.

There was a vault with an electronic keypad. You hoped that the passports were in there. But what was the combination? You tried everything you could think of. Birthdays, birth years, anniversaries, but no luck. It just stubbornly flashed a red light and vibrated.

What was it?

Your fingers punched the numbers in, doubt weighing heavily on your mind. Could it… be the day Yoongi died?

The vault clicked open.

── ⋆✩⋆ ──

Taehyung was seated on a chair, his legs crossed. The woman was kneeling, held in place by two guards. The musky smell of the room brought back memories of the night he killed Min Yoongi. He was not in the glass room, but the basement was the same anyway. The faded light flickered outside the door. It was fucking cold. Well, basements did get damn cold in the winter.

“It was you.”

She smiled, licking her crimson lips, her lipstick and sharp canines lending a fiendish aura to her. Like a vampire.

“It was always me, Kim,” she cooed, the smile turning sinister. “Took you long enough.”

He tilted his head, creasing his forehead.

“What do you mean?”

She smiled again, the genial expression morphing instantly into a dangerous sneer as she ground her teeth.

“You don’t remember me, Kim. But I do. You thought I was an easy fuck. You kicked me out on the streets even before your cum dried.” She glared at him. “I was not and am not a fucking whore, Kim Taehyung. I’m the heiress of the damned Song Shipping Line,” she spat.

“Song? But that is owned by Song Joong-“

“That’s my cousin. I had more pressing matters to deal with.” She smirked and raised her brows. “Because, Kim, you cannot just fuck me and throw me out.”

The pleasant beam was back on her face. “I let my cousin run the company and came after you. I changed my name, solely to crush your heart under my heels.” The smile took on a shy turn. “But what can I say, I’ve fallen for you.”

He looked at her as if she were out of her mind.

“You? Have fallen for me?”

Even the guards holding her looked at each other in confusion.

She laughed, letting her head roll back. “What?” Her eyes were streaming with mirth. “You can’t believe that?”

He didn’t respond, suspicious that she was playing him. Who on Earth actually fell for him? She must be crazy. But Song? Was she Song Jun Hyi? He didn’t even remember meeting her. When he found his voice, it came out croaked.

“Why- why would you leave everything and become a secretary? Why?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Why? Don’t you understand? You of all people should get me. It’s simple, Kim.” She pouted her plush lips. “I’m in love with you.”

He darted out of his chair. “What are you, crazy?”

“Uh huh.” She winked at him, drawing her words out. “Crazy about you.”

Taehyung looked at the guards, and they dropped her hands, leaving the room immediately. But she remained kneeling. Taehyung sat down again, leaning against the backrest, and establishing the power dynamic.

“I don’t believe you.”

She scoffed. “What should I say to make you believe me?” She smiled her crooked smile. “Should I say how your wife is sneaking behind your back?” The smile deepened. “Should I say she’s hiding secrets from you?”

He gripped the armrests tight. No, his Y/N would never. This woman knew nothing about you. She was a crazy bitch who had no idea how pure you were.

“Well?” she teased. “Wanna know, baby boy?”

He pressed his lips together, fighting the urge to slap her silly. The sound of her voice was grating on his nerves.

“Don’t you dare call me that.”

She gave him her best puppy eyed smile. “Aw, look at you, so pretty when angry.”

“I would never love you back,” he snapped.

“But that didn’t stop you from grabbing Y/N, did it?”

He bounded forward, catching her throat in a strangle-hold.

“Don’t fuck with me, Na Yeon.”

His hand was gripping her like a vice. The bob of her throat was evident as she choked out “I’m not. It’s the truth.”

His mean streak got the better of him. “Oh, yeah?” His fingers tightened. “Tell me my wife’s secrets so I can spit on your face and say that I already know them.”

Even though death was beckoning, she remained stoic, looking at him steadily. “I will. But kiss me first.”

He knew an obstinate bitch when he saw one. Dipping his head down, he ghosted his breath just down her nose.

“Tell me and I’ll give it to you. If you really deserve it.”

Her tongue flicked out and traced his lip. “Okay, tiger.” She pushed herself a bit and butted his nose.

“Hmm, how do I put it eloquently, honey boy? You aren’t going to have a baby anytime soon.”

His glare burned into her face. “I’m not impot-“

She rubbed his nose with hers. “Shh, I know, tiger boy. You’re well equipped to make a lot of cubs inside me, I’m sure.”

He remained silent, not liking how she knew about his weakness for nose rubs.

“Tell me, bitch.” His nostrils flared in anger at being called a boy.

“You’re staying at the winter villa, right?” She licked his lips again, causing him to recoil. “Well, my source tells me that she hides pretty little things in a shoebox. Third closet from the left. An old shoebox, baby boy. Go look.”

He smiled mockingly at her. Did the bitch think he would believe her?

“You’re pathetic.”

She grinned again. “Aren’t you, too?”

He rose from his crouch, ears pink. Walking rapidly to the door, he looked back at her one hard time, biting out the words:

“We’ll see what’s in the closet. I’ll fucking snap your neck if you��re lying,” before slamming the door behind him.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

So Na Yeon or Song Jun Hyi to be precise, looked up with hysterical joy when he returned. She saw the tousled hair, deathly pallor and the unsteady gait of a man defeated. The strange mix of anger and disappointment plastered on his face told her all she wanted to know.

“You saw it, didn’t you?”

Taehyung couldn’t believe that his Y/N had betrayed him right under his nose. What hurt him more was that you had kept a lot more stuff inside that box.

He didn’t know how you had gotten your hands on them, but there were suit buttons, bits of paper with Yoongi’s handwriting, cuff links, tie pins, movie ticket stubs, and a lot of odds and ends crammed into it. Beneath the box of souvenirs, the yellow pill bottle was tucked safely, full of birth control pills.

He had gone feral, throwing everything out of the closet and fucking losing himself. He had almost hit you, but he had exacted revenge another way.

He looked at the woman squatting on the floor. Her ass was probably freezing on the cold hard floor. But her face had all the warmth in the world as she gazed at him.

He couldn’t control the anger coursing through his body. His eyes were burning.

“How did you know about it?” He hated the defeated tone of his voice. He hated losing. Ever.

“I think I’ve earned my kiss now,” she replied, pouting her lips up at him expectantly.

His glare was sharp enough to cut diamonds. “I only ever kiss my wife.”

“Come on, tiger boy, you made a deal.” Her whine was bratty, yes, but he knew she wasn’t as weak or harmless as she looked. She had no business inside his wife’s closet, yet she knew where exactly you kept your secrets.

His heart weighed down with guilt as he extended his hand to her, pulling her up so she wouldn’t fucking lose her butt to the bitter cold. Once up, she slithered her body against him, humming in content. He let his hands hang limply at his sides, not even attempting to hold her.

She didn’t seem to mind. Pushing him to make him sit on the lone chair, she straddled him, not paying attention to his limp hands. She moaned in luJst, purring like a cat as she hungrily licked strokes on his Adams apple. Her tongue found its way to his lips, kissing the corners teasingly.

Bunching his hair in her fists, she kissed him with such intensity that a subconscious moan escaped the depths of his throat. Her tongue fought his own for dominance, and he couldn’t help but give up. She was a fricking wildcat. But it was when her hand slid to cup his crotch that he drew the line.

“I only agreed to a kiss. Get off me.”

Her glance was mocking. “Seriously, you don’t want it? You don’t want to be loved back? I’m offering you my whole heart on a platter, and you still want her?”

He didn’t respond, the words cutting him harder than the sharpest blades. She traced her finger down his chest. “I’ve got everything, baby, I am a fucking heiress. She’s got nothing.”

He pushed her off, the malice back in full spirit. His voice was laced with hatred when he hissed at her:

“She is everything.” No one could match up to you. Your half-hearted kisses, sloppy blowjobs, angry punches, they all made more sense than the fiery kiss he had just received. No, he loved you. The whole you.

Na Yeon hugged her knees, smiling up in that annoying manner. “You’re a business man, Kim. How about we talk a deal?”

── ⋆✩⋆ ──

“I’d rather sit on your lap if you don’t mind,” she said, eyeing the chair that had been brought into the room for her. God, she was driving him insane.

“I do fucking mind.”

She pursed her lips, settling into the chair with an air of defeat. He cut to the chase immediately.

“What is your deal?”

She regarded him with blank honesty. “Let’s have a bet, actually. It’s better that way.”

“Spit it out.”

“Let’s see, you killed Y/N’s husband just to get her. Right?” The innocent question had a sinister hook lurking underneath, which Taehyung immediately caught.

“What about it?”

“Well, in that case, if killing an obstacle is right to get to the person you love, doesn’t that law apply to me too?”

He had expected that hook. He understood how her mind worked because she was exactly at his mental place. Obsessed with a person who just didn’t return the feeling. He realized that she was very much like him.

“Do you expect an answer?” He sounded calm and relaxed.

“No, I know you know what I’m talking about, Kim.” She cracked her neck, sighing a little. “I will kill her if that means I can get you.”

“So, what is your deal?” He fought to keep the condescension out of his tone.

She grinned. “My businessman,” she purred. “I try and kill her. You try and stop it. Just leave the odds to the stars.”

“Why would I agree to such a stupid deal?”

“Because, Kim, the clock has already started ticking for your Y/N. I’m only offering you a chance to save her before I kill her.”

“If I win?” He smirked with confidence.

“You get your way with me. Kill me, lock me up, whatever you want.” Her casual words did send a jolt up his spine. “But, if I win,”

“What if you win?”

“I get you.”

She winked and laughed before adding, “And she dies.”

He didn’t bat an eyelid. “Deal.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The deal was that Na Yeon would try and kill you within a month, and he would have to prevent it from happening. The nuances were:

Na Yeon wasn’t allowed anywhere near you. She had bragged about already having set a plan in motion. So, she had only that plan to rely on. She was fired from Taehyung’s office with immediate effect.

Taehyung wasn’t allowed to tap into Na Yeon’s phone calls or personal correspondence. He wasn’t allowed to involve any other person into the deal. His attempts to save you were to be his alone. No cops, guards, or any backup for him either.

When Taehyung returned home, his ears were already buzzing. He had almost drowned your daughter, trying to teach you a lesson. He went in search of you, finding you curled into a ball by your daughter’s bed.

“She got a fever?” he enquired, attempting to balm your pain.

You flew at him like a lioness, punching him in the chest, pushing him out of the room.

“What the fuck? ‘She got a fever?’ Is that all you got, you cruel piece of crap?”

He let himself get pummeled; he did deserve it. He had jeopardized the only string that was tying you to him. He shifted his gaze down, looking at your pants when he saw something that caught his attention. Dog hair. Almond.

He caught your fists, shushing you as he did so. “What’s that? Almond’s fur?”

You froze briefly, collecting yourself just as quickly.  “Yeah. What about it?”

He tsked. “I don’t remember giving you permission to walk him. Or go near him.”

Holding your head, you shook in anger, hissing “I don’t want your permission to fucking breathe. I’m done.”

He was tempted to say that he knew. He knew you were upto something behind his back. The words almost slipped his lips. But he had to play it out. He had to win you. It was almost objectification, trying to win you. But Na Yeon had placed him in that uncomfortable fix. If he justified killing Yoongi as an excuse to scout your love, Na Yeon did have the right to employ the same tactic. It was only fair.

“I know you’re upset, Y/N. I…” He swallowed the lump in his throat, “… I am sorry.”

You were taken aback. You had thought that apologies never existed in his world. To hear it for the first time, the sound of it felt so unfamiliar.

“I- need to be alone.”

He nodded and withdrew silently, leaving you to your own. Almond. He had to know how you had gotten near him. Also, he had to find out about the shoebox. Was it one of the guards? He became paranoid. Was one of him own men cheating on him with you? Was that why he only got squeaky clean reports of you all the time?

He trusted his guys with his life. No, there had to be something else he was missing. It didn’t make sense, especially when you vehemently hated the guys and their guns. You never allowed them anywhere near your daughter.

Who had clearance to talk to you, to pass you pills? Who did you meet that no other guard got suspicious of? Who was in the circle approved to be in contact with you? Who was the invisible person hiding in plain sight?

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Seung Jo had packed all his stuff and sent them ahead to Malta. He only had to pick up a couple of things. Oh, and the tickets. He smiled at the couple of tickets he had tucked inside his diary. He was going to Malta with the love of his life. It felt too good to be true.

Na Yeon’s steady paychecks, coupled with Taehyung’s had given him a lot of money to enjoy a life of luxury over there. His phone vibrated, interfering in his pleasant daydreams of lazing on hammocks and sipping beer.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Has anyone begun to suspect you?”

“No, everything is fine.”

“And Y/N? You’re positive about her?”

“Oh yes. We’ll continue as planned.”

“Good. Six more days.”

The caller hung up. He lay back down on his bed, thinking if he should get married in Malta, or wait to get to an even better destination.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

There was a knock on the door, waking up Seung Jo. His blurred vision made out 3:18 am on the digital clock. The knock grew louder, and he swore under his breath as he hit his foot on something. Waddling through the darkness, he flicked the light on and rubbed his toe. The sudden brightness took some adjusting to. The knock persisted, getting faster by the second.

“Chill the fu-“ He threw the door open, the curse freezing on his lips when he saw who was standing outside.

“Mr- Mr. Kim?”

The man in sweatpants looked so different, as if he were a whole other person, and not the suit and tie guy Seung Jo knew of.

“I’m coming in, it’s fucking freezing.” Taehyung brushed past Seung Jo, making straight for the couch.

Sweat lined Seung Jo’s neck, even though it was winter and bone-chillingly cold.

“Is something the matter, sir?” He couldn’t imagine the boss man coming to his house at such an odd time. Whatever it was, it surely wasn’t good news.

“Let’s cut the bullshit, Seung Jo.” Taehyung waved a file at the man in front of him. “Who hired you?”

The sweat was coming in torrents now. “Uh- Miss Na Yeon did, sir.” He wasn’t sure how much the boss had found out. He didn’t know if he was owning up to the plan or to the fact that she hired him as the chauffeur.

“As the-?” Taehyung persisted, patience wearing thin.

Seung Jo shut up, he was not going to readily own up. He wouldn’t give up and lose Malta and love to empty threats.

“As the chauffeur,” he replied sulkily.

“Oh?” Taehyung’s lips remained in the surprised pout for a whole minute. “Well, I have a whole file of papers that proves otherwise.”

Seung Jo knew now. His breath stuck in his throat. “Mr. Kim, let me explain…”

Taehyung waved in dismissal. “Just spit out the truth. I don’t have time. Bare facts.”

When he received just a beseeching look in reply, Taehyung opened the file and pulled out sheets of paper.

“Two tickets to Malta.” He waved them at the man. “By flight.” He removed some more sheets and waved them. “Three tickets to Santorini, by ship.”

Taehyung clucked his tongue. “Tell me I’m wrong, Seung Jo, how can you be on a flight and a ship on the same day?”

Seung Jo knew that he was beyond saving. He knew Taehyung’s violent temper. And living around men with guns had already shaken him enough to know when to give up.

“Mr. Kim, sir, I was asked to trick Mrs. Kim into going to the harbor. I was supposed to get out of the country as soon as she left to go to the harbor.”

“And what’s in the harbor?”

“I don’t know, sir. I really don’t. Ms. Na Yeon told me to not poke my nose into it when I asked.”

“And you were going to Malta.” Taehyung leaned back as he surveyed the man shaking before him. “With your boyfriend.”

Seung Jo nodded, wiping his sweat with his palm. “I wanted to live a better life, Mr. Kim. My boyfriend- he’s a barista. He has been through enough in life, that’s why I accepted Ms. Na Yeon’s offer. I wanted money.” He sniffed. “I wanted to marry my boyfriend and give him the life he deserves.”

Taehyung looked at the man closely. “Did you ever… kiss my…”

The man shook his head with violent passion. “No, sir! No. I could never cheat on my boyfriend.”                                                                                    

Taehyung’s chest deflated. “So, you never had feelings for her?”

“I swear I didn’t, sir.”

Good. The guy hadn’t held you or touched you with any lustful intent. Taehyung would have chopped the fucker’s fingers off if he had. He felt lucky.

“Na Yeon doesn’t know that you’re gay?”

She had made a very foolish mistake, overseeing that important detail. One that was going to cost her dearly.

“No, sir, I wanted the money. I couldn’t risk not being hired. She has no idea.”

The man was visibly shaking. He kept wiping his sweaty palms on his sides. “Please, please don’t kill me, sir. I …”

“Oh no, Seung Jo. Here’s what we are going to do...”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Y/N?”

You turned to Seung Jo. His almond skin was glinting in the afternoon sun. “Yeah?”

He passed the tickets to you. Your hands shook when you opened the envelope. The destination made your head swim. Santorini. It was real. You were really going. Your baby girl and you were finally going to be free.

You nodded at him absently before asking “And yours?”

He chuckled, nodding. “I have it safely locked at home. Can’t risk carrying it around, babe.”

“Yeah. Right.”

You fell silent, looking at the cottony clouds sailing above. “It feels so scary-” You took a deep breath – “Getting out of there.” The silence resumed for a moment. “I’m scared I might wake up and find this is all nothing but a dream.”

Seung Jo’s conscience pricked him for the first time. He was dangling freedom in front of a woman who would never get out of the cage. But he had gotten into the sticky mess; he had to get out of it alive.

Taehyung had threatened to kill his boyfriend if he didn’t finish the game he had started.

He squeezed your hand, gently assuring that you were going to escape for real.

“But we’re going on Friday, not Thursday.”

You stared at the ticket closely, surprise written on your face. “I thought you said Thursday. I clearly remember.”

He looked ahead, avoiding your stare. “Yeah I did. But I could get tickets only for Friday. Just a day, babe, hold on for one more day.”

You nodded, gulping down the fear nibbling at your heart. Taehyung would go ballistic if he knew your passports were missing. Just one day.

“So, be ready and I’ll come pick you and Ha Neul up on Friday. You told him you’re going to the dentist, right?”

You nodded again. The alibis were already ready.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“You ready? It’s time. Get going, Seung Jo.”

“Yes, ma’am. I am on my way to the house.”

“Text me when you get there.”

She cut the call and picked up her burner cell. The room was silent except for the low sound of the dial tone.

“You there yet?”

“Yeah. I’ve already set up the scope.”

“Okay. Remember, she’ll be there with her daughter. Wrap it up nice and clean.”

“For sure.”

The sniper hung up, looking at his neon watch. He had some time to kill before his target would be arriving.

Meanwhile, Na Yeon was micromanaging Seung Ho, calling him every few minutes to check up on him. She was in her apartment, biting her fingernails and praying that everything would go right.

Seung Jo hadn’t told her anything that was the least suspicious. Had Taehyung really not found out? Was she winning? Her controlling nature was bursting at the seams, not being there to witness your death. She didn’t like putting her fate into other people’s hands. But some battles were better fought remotely.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“I never miss a target.”

Her fingers trembled, causing the cellphone to shake. She drew a shaky breath.

“Fine. Abort and return.”

When she turned, she had a violent start. A dark outline was standing the doorway, moving towards her. Taehyung stepped into view, his devilish smile lending unnatural charm to his features.

“Guess I won then?”

She had no choice but to surrender, tail well between her legs. All the confidence in her had evaporated away. Not because she failed to kill you. Rather because she had lost him. He was never going to be hers.

“What’s it gonna be? She asked softly. “Death by what? Guns? Poison? Explosives?”

He chuckled lightly. “None.” He took great pleasure in seeing her startled expression.

“What?!”

He flashed his boxy smile, melting the living soul out of her.

“You can never get me, Na Yeon. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t live.” He crossed his arms and pursed his lips. “You did try to harm the singularly most important person in my life. For that though, you’ll have to pay the price.”

He dipped his hands into his pockets.

“A sniper? Really? I never expected that much class from you. I’m amazed.” He chuckled lightly. “Your sniper couldn’t shoot my wife because according to Seung Jo’s new plan, they’re leaving tomorrow, not today.” He loved the way she gulped in shock.

“You played me, so I played you by using your own man against you.”

That evening, So Na Yeon was restrained and taken to the Klammer Institute, where she was placed in a psychiatric ward reserved exclusively for her. Her registration form simply stated ‘No next of kin. Hold till end of life.’

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You couldn’t sleep all night. What if something raised Taehyung’s doubts? You weren’t going to take any luggage. Getting yourselves out of Taehyung’s clutches was enough for now. You had prepped Ha Neul for the big plan, telling her that it was a surprise for daddy and she absolutely should not say anything before him.

Taehyung was tired and slept soundly by your side. It eased your mind to know he wasn’t aware of how fidgety you were. That man had the sense of a bloodhound.

Dawn came, and soon it was bright and sunny. Taehyung smiled into his glass of juice when you announced that you were going to the dentist.

“Sure, honey. Be back soon.” He resumed scanning his newspaper.

You waited and waited, biting your lips, and stealing looks at the clock. The ship was going to sail away soon. But no Seung Jo came. He had talked to you the previous evening, going over the entire plan. Where, then, was he?

You jumped whenever a shadow fell across the foyer, hoping to see Seung Jo bounding in. But every time, you were disappointed.

Taehyung kept a straight face when he asked, “Do you want one of the guards to drive you?”

You shook your head, biting your lips harder. “No, I’m fine.” You looked up at the clock again. He wasn’t coming. He had let you down.

You had chased a fickle drop, and it had vanished, leaving you stranded in the desert.

At that exact time, Seung Jo was inside the plane bound to Malta, holding hands with his boyfriend, waiting for the takeoff.

His boyfriend pressed his hand warmly. “What is it, babe? Sad about leaving this place?”

Seung Jo gave him a watery smile. “Uh, yeah. Kind of.”

The plane took off, carrying them both towards a new phase of life. Seung Jo leaned and peered down the window, wondering about you. He had done everything Taehyung had ordered him to. There was nothing more to be done. He hoped you would be alright.

“I love you,” his boyfriend said, leaning on his shoulder and sighing happily.

“I love you too.”

“To better places, love.”

“Yeah, babe. To better places only.”

With that, Seung Jo erased you off his mind.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Wo Bin discreetly cleared his throat, standing at full attention before his boss.

“What’s the matter, Bin-ah?”

The man hesitated slightly, unsure of how to best word it.

“Mr. Boss, no, Kim… no, Mr. Kim….”

Taehyung shot a penetrating glance at his aide, peering at him over his reading glasses.

“Spit it out, Bin.”

“I don’t know how to…” He saw his boss’s nostrils flare up, and he blurted it out. “I- I’ve been in-“ He swallowed hard, “-in love with So Na Yeon for years now.”

He nervously watched his boss digest the information, waiting to have his head bitten off.

Taehyung crossed his arms and stared at Wo Bin hard.

“For years?”

Wo Bin nodded silently.

“Help me understand, Bin. You say you love her and then she tries to kill my wife? Were you two planning…”

“No, no, boss!  I never told her. She doesn’t know. Not an inkling. I never even asked her out.”

Taehyung leaned back a bit. “So, are you going to fight me for putting her in an institute?” He looked at the gun in Wo Bin’s holster. “Are you going to shoot me?”

“Of course not, sir. I loved her. I still do in fact.” The man wiped his brow. “But I would never choose her over you.”

Taehyung’s brow shot up, intrigued.

“Why is that?”

“She doesn’t love me.”

The soft voice made Taehyung uneasy. Was Wo Bin mad at him that So Na Yeon was in love with him? Would he kill him for her? He wouldn’t be surprised if Wo Bin decided to go down that road.

Wo Bin looked down at his boots and continued: “She’s not So Na Yeon anymore. I didn’t fall in love with Song Jun Hyi.” He snapped his head back up to look at Taehyung square in the eyes. “And most importantly, I would never betray you.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

One year later

“Mommy, will daddy get candy?”

“Yes, baby.”

Your little girl shook her pigtails cutely, saying “Will I get gummy bears?”

You smiled and nodded at her, assuring her that she would.

Taehyung was talking to Wo Bin, who was complaining loudly about the lack of discipline in the ranks. “Some guys are just too unruly, boss. They’re like a bunch of school boys.”

Taehyung’s phone vibrated, and he smiled as he picked it up.

“Yes, sugar?”

“Min Ha Neul wants gummy bears. Don’t be a miser. Get her some M&Ms too.”

“And you, love? Can I get you anything? Cravings?”

“Fucking get hit by a car and die.”

“I’ll remember not to,” he replied, grinning.

You sighed and looked down. 6 months pregnant. It was humiliating to carry his child around. But you couldn’t hate the baby. No, you weren’t evil enough to do that. He was such a bitch to you, yes, but you would never hurt babies. You would never stoop that low.

You still randomly thought of Seung Jo. Where had he gone? Had Taehyung found out and killed him? But Taehyung was a man to gloat. He would have laughed in your face and told the news. So, what else had happened to Seung Jo? The thoughts came occasionally, out of nowhere. And every time, you daydreamed of escaping on that ship, far far away from Kim Taehyung.

When Taehyung returned home, he couldn’t find you in the bedroom. Waltzing over to the kitchen, he froze when he saw you downing something straight out of a bottle. He bounded over to you, snatching it, and raining slaps on your face.

“You’re trying to kill my baby,” he screamed in hysteria, shaking you by the throat. “You bitch, you’re poisoning my baby!”

“Let me go,” you croaked, “it’s – it’s just cough syrup.” You threw the bottle down, fighting to breathe.

His hands abruptly left your throat, his pupils still dilated in the surge of adrenaline. You looked over his shoulder and saw Ha Neul peeking around the door, scared by the loud noise.

When he bent and looked at the label, he hung his head sheepishly. It was cough syrup.

“Don’t worry,” you snapped, brushing past him, “Unlike you, I don’t hurt children.” You paused and glared at him. “Or anyone, for that matter.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The baby was due in a few weeks. You had to get a breath of fresh air. You had been going to see your parents for a few weeks, but then the back pain had become too much to handle. You had missed a few weeks, and suddenly you decided on a whim to visit them. It was a long walk, yes, but it would help clear your mind.

You wanted to take Almond too. The poor boy really needed some love. Those brutes with guns didn’t exactly shower him with the love he deserved.

When you knocked on the study door, there was no response. Taehyung worked from home just like he had done when you were pregnant with Ha Neul. You tried the handle and opened the door, but he wasn’t there. Fuck. He usually went wild if you didn’t ask him before taking Almond out. Screw it, you couldn’t be bothered to call and ask.

The crunch of gravel underneath your sneakers felt oddly satisfying. The elation of taking Almond along without Taehyung knowing stirred rebellious joy in your heart. The guards might probably tell him, but you would deal with it later.

Almond happily sniffed at the flowers by the roadside, wagging his tail and occasionally pressing his body against your legs to show his appreciation. Such a dear little thing. You were smiling when you entered the cemetery. Walking past the headstones, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion when you saw two bouquets of white carnations laid neatly on your parents’ graves. You hastened towards them, Almond bounding closely behind you.

The water droplets on the flowers were still fresh, the candles had just gone out. You touched a wick. It was still warm. You looked around wildly, almost missing the man walking far ahead of you, amid the maze of graves.

So, you had finally lost your mind. Were you seeing Yoongi? Had you gone crazy? What would happen to Ha Neul if you were sent to a psych ward? A billion questions buzzed in your mind.

“Almond, stay.”

The dog sat down faithfully.

You trailed behind the apparition, unsure of what to expect. Turning around a row of headstones, he turned to the side, and his side profile was thrown into light. Your breath stopped, heart hammering away inside your ribcage. He sauntered away, unaware of the heavily pregnant woman following him. You ducked behind a headstone, watching him walk out through the other entrance, making straight for his car.

The car revved up and glided away, leaving you staring open-mouthed. He had been the mysterious flower guy the whole fucking time? The fact flashed at you out of the blue. It was Wednesday. Your parents had died on a Wednesday.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

When you walked back home and left Almond at his kennel, the car was already parked in the porch. A bouquet of lilies was on the kitchen counter. Near it was a bag of Tootsie Pops and gummy bears for Ha Neul.

You walked down the hallway to his study. The door was half open. He was writing something and turned in surprise when he saw you.

“What is it, Y/N?”

You couldn’t coherently form a word. His gaze roamed down and settled on the flecks on your pants.

“Is that… dog hair?”

“I went for a walk; you weren’t there when I came to ask about Almond.”

You waited for him to say something. Anything.

“Well, it’s okay just this one time.” It looked as if he wanted to say something else. “I.. uh, brought you some flowers. Didn’t want them to be thrown on my face, so I left them on the counter.”

Mustering up a great deal of courage, you breathed out, “The flowers-“

He didn’t give away anything. There was no dawning recognition on his features.

“Yeah, lilies. You love lilies.”

“Uh, yeah. Yep, I do.”

You silently removed yourself from the room, too dazed to think. The man you had met at the cemetery had said that he had been paid for like- what? Five years? You realized that his job was to scrub wax and get the shrunken flowers off the graves before you went to see them on Thursdays. Taehyung knew your parents had died on a Wednesday. How much did he actually know about you?

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Y/N?”

Taehyung had woken up thirsty, and had gone down to get a sip of cold water.

The fridge door was open; and the soft light fell on his favorite person in the world, with an ice cream tub cuddled in her chest. At the sound of his deep groggy voice, the spoon fell on the floor with a clang.

“Here,” he picked a fresh spoon and handed it to you. “Oh my, Y/N, you’re so beautiful.”

You raised an eyebrow, licking the back of the spoon and smacking your lips. Was he fucking kidding you?

“I’m round as a ball, wearing sweatpants twice my size, leaking through my hoodie, stuffing my face at 3 in the morning with blackcurrant ice cream, and you find me beautiful?”

He snorted, spilling the water on his shirt. Wiping his mouth, he laughed at your indignant face.

“Of course. You don’t believe me?”

“Like hell I would,” you grunted, digging into the tub to scoop up some more.

He clutched your arm, steering you forward as he kicked the fridge door closed.

“Come, let’s go. No, bring the ice cream with you. It’s okay.”

When you reached the bedroom, he flicked on the light, the sudden radiance dazzling your eyes.

He pulled you to the mirrored closet, standing behind you with his chest pressed against your back.

“Look,” he said, taking the ice cream tub from your hands and placing it on the bed gently. “Look ahead.”

His fingers grabbed the hem of your hoodie, his knuckles grazing against your belly and leaving goosebumps in their wake. He slowly lifted the fabric up, bunching it up so your belly was naked and vulnerable.

“See?” he asked, his hand cupping the widest part of your belly, the other hand squeezing your shoulder. “See how beautiful you are, carrying my child. Don’t you see? We made that together.”

His finger traced delicate lines along the bump.

“You’re growing a little Kim inside you, Y/N. Look how pretty you look, swollen with my seed.”

He bent slightly to breathe into your ear: “So fucking perfect.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Kim Taehyung, you miserable bitch!”

Taehyung shot up to his feet, rushing to your side.

“Yes, honey. I’m here.”

The midwife tried her best to pretend that she didn’t hear you insult him every few seconds your contractions came on.

“You made this happen. You put me through this, you asshole!”

He didn’t care about the midwife squirming behind him. You were his Y/N. You had every right to call him names. He held your hand, attempting to help you focus on your breathing.

“Breathe in, baby, just follow my lead.”

“Fuck you,” you screamed sobbing in agony.

“You can do this, Y/N. Just hang on a little more.”

“I can’t, I can’t,” you whimpered, wanting to smash his head against the wall for putting you through the whole ordeal.

“I know,” he said, rubbing your palm and looking hopelessly at the midwife. “How much longer?”

“Just an hour or so, Mr. Kim.”

He sighed and leaned down to wipe your clammy forehead. “Just a little while longer, baby.”

Taehyung could remember the last time he was in a delivery room only too clearly. He had been seething in white hot rage, furious at Min for letting you handle so much pain.

But now, standing nervously by your side, he felt radically different. He couldn’t wait to get the baby out of you and end your suffering, yes, but there was a small feeling of awe that humbled him.

This woman, the one screaming out curses and clawing at his hands, was birthing his child. He was no more just a man; he was a father. The very thought affected him more than he had anticipated.

── ⋆✩⋆ ──-

“That’s it, Mrs. Kim, you’re doing great,” the doctor called, her head between the stirrups. “Give me one more push.”

Taehyung felt something odd going on. The pressure on his hand was weakening by the second.

“Y/N?” he called out, bending to look closely. “Are you alright?”

The machines started beeping in a frenzy, and the doctor yelled for help.

“She’s seizing!”

More doctors rushed in, and one of them jabbed at his chest, trying to push him out of the way.

“Please get out of the room, sir,” he said, using his weight to buckle the tall man.

“Yeah? Try and make me,” Taehyung said, rooted to his spot.

People in white coats were barking orders at each other, pushing and pulling his beloved wife all over the place.

The young doctor opened his mouth to argue, and Taehyung sneered at him angrily.

“Look, you moron, that woman is my wife, and I swear I will rip your balls off if you don’t back off!”

Suddenly, all the pandemonium stopped, and the doctors began filing out of the room.

“What, what?” He shouted, kicking himself for losing track of you.

Your doctor glared at him, pissed.

“If you are done heckling my intern, Mr. Kim, you may be pleased to know your baby is coming. Now.”

Taehyung ran over to the doctor’s side, watching her expertly handle the teeny tiny head coming through.

You were slumped against the pillows in exhaustion, the final push had usurped all your energy.

Before he even saw the baby’s face, Taehyung rushed back to you, hugging you tight. His body shook in emotion.

“I almost died, you scared me so much.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Kim Jaemin was born hale and healthy, his cute cheeks and glittering eyes making you wonder how such a wonderful little human could have been sired by Kim Taehyung.

When you took him back home after a few days, the entire staff of Taehyung’s office showed up to celebrate the baby. The mansion was decorated with festoons and balloons, welcoming the Kim heir heartily.

Taehyung threw a party in honor of the birth of his son, sending out handwritten invitations to every person in the elite circle.

He played the part of the generous host to perfection, moving around the hall with a gracious smile. He had bullied you into wearing a pretty dress and greeting the guests.

You were hastening to get yourself a drink when his sonorous voice chanted your name and piqued your interest.

“… is such a talented person. Yeah, it’s a pity she couldn’t work on projects, I am sure she could work from home. Her artistic sense is impeccable. Come, I’ll show you how tastefully she has decorated the study. You couldn’t see such perfect harmony and rhythm anywhere.”

── ⋆✩⋆ ──-

Ha Neul was elated to have such a cute younger brother. She eagerly brought all her toys to stuff inside his crib, her gummy smile widening every time he giggled.

Jaemin took after you, most of his features resembled you. Taehyung took absolute pride in that. He had made a baby with you. A baby that looked so alike you. A part of him and you were inside Jaemin. Curiously though, he felt like he loved you more than he did his own boy. Yes, Jaemin was his offspring, but it was you that he loved. And you always came first.

Not an ounce of his jealousy had changed. He still hated when you coddled Jaemin or breastfed him. His son was stealing your love. He hoped he wouldn’t grow to regret having Jaemin. He would have much preferred a girl, just so he could compare Min’s daughter and his own and tell himself that he had won over Yoongi, producing the best child.

But when he saw Ha Neul kissing Jaemin’s forehead with her tender lips, he wondered if he were really a monster to even think of comparing children. How could Ha Neul love Jaemin so much? Wasn’t she the least bit jealous? He was baffled and lost, stressed at the complexity, and wondering why everything was so fucking difficult.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Ha Neul was off at kindergarten, you had fought tooth and nail with Taehyung so she could go to school. He had reluctantly agreed, just to get a break from your constant swearing.

After sending her off with Wo Bin, you looked at the clock. You had an appointment with the pediatrician. Taehyung had already given you a credit card, kissing the top of your head before leaving to his office. Strangely, he only ever patted Jaemin’s back, there were no kisses. There weren’t any kisses for Ha Neul either, but you couldn’t help wondering why Jaemin got the same treatment. Wasn’t Jaemin his own flesh and blood?

Wasn’t the war he waged against Yoongi over already? He had gotten what he had wanted. He had ruined the Min clan, taken you and made you a Kim, and finally gotten his own child. What else did he want?

The grandfather clock chimed and startled you out of your musings. You had better shower; the appointment couldn’t be missed. Laying Jaemin down in his crib, you told the nanny to engage him while you got ready.

“Mrs. Kim?” The nanny was standing at the door meekly. “Ah, good. I thought you had already gotten into the shower.”

“What is it, Dana?”

“Little Jaemin broke the harness of his stroller, I wanted to remind you.”

Oh yeah, you had almost forgotten it. You had to buy a new one. Wait. Ha Neul’s old stroller was still in the basement. It could fill in until you bought another one.

“I think there’s a 5-point harness somewhere, I’ll get it.”

Taehyung always insisted that you never go down. He just forbade you from going to the basement. But you had sneaked there a few times. The walls were definitely wallpapered for some reason. Who wallpapered basements? Apart from that, there wasn’t anything suspicious whatsoever.

When you went down, there was so much stuff boxed up neatly in the basement. Ha Neul’s boxes took just a couple minutes to find. The harness was packed along with it, and you grabbed it and turned to leave before something curious made you stare harder.

The wallpaper had previously disguised it, but the ageing and peeling had revealed some parts of the wall. The paper dipped into parts of rectangular crevice almost the exact size of a door. A door? Was it a secret door? A tunnel? Maybe that’s why Taehyung had forbade you from coming to the basement? What was that crevice for?

You felt around the paper, knocking, and pressing, and sure enough, it was a door. Fiddling around, your fingers found a keyhole. It was so small that you almost missed it. How could you open it? There had to be a key somewhere… You tried pushing and jiggling the door. But it was firm and unrelenting. The curious side of you itched to know what was on the other side. Something like an escape tunnel, surely, because Taehyung had been so stubborn about shooing you away from the damned basement.

When you went back up, you passed the harness to the nanny and hit the shower. You were still thinking about the door. Well, you would find out soon enough.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Se Jong was waiting impatiently, smoking his last cigarette, and cursing at no one in particular. How long was it going to take for those stupid dickwads to get the job done? It was getting late. He had to have heard from them a quarter of an hour earlier. The loud ringtone startled him, and he cursed again, shifting his phone to his ear.

“You done?”

“Yeah, man.”

He smiled, licking his lips eagerly. God, he was going to be so rich. He took his sweet time finishing his smoke, dialing Taehyung’s number lazily. A deep voice answered.

“Kim Taehyung.”

Se Jong grinned into the phone. “I’m Se Jong.” He snorted a bit, the chuckle making a gross sound in his throat. “Wanna talk.”

Taehyung was puzzled. His guys never called him directly. It was always Wo Bin who dealt with their calls and reported to him. Was the bastard drunk?

“I’m busy, keep it short,” he snapped.

The voice on the other end laughed stupidly, pissing him off even further.

“Did you just- laugh at me, Se Jong?” he shouted, slapping the table. “Why are you even calling me? Quit wasting my time!”

“Simmer down, Taehyung,” the voice drawled, shocking Taehyung into stillness. He dared call him by name? He was certainly asking for a bullet in his brain, the damned son of a bitch.

The cocky chuckle repeated itself, and then the voice came out low and menacing.

“I got your kid. I’m gonna rip him in pieces if you don’t do what I say.”

Taehyung’s blood chilled. His fingers clutched the phone tighter. His son Jaemin? What the fuck was happening? He shot up, sprinting out of his office, phone pressed against his ear. He raced through the paneled offices, taking the stairs at a frenzied pace.

“Get me Wo Bin. Now!” He screamed at the driver, hopping into the car and slamming the door. Se Jong was chuckling on the other end of the line when he panted into the phone, out of breath.

“How much do you want?”

“Oh, Taehyung.” There was a mocking whistle. “How much can you give me?”

The car was racing towards home. Taehyung’s mind was spinning in circles, nothing was comprehensible. You? What about you? Was it only Jaemin that had been kidnapped?

“I… What do you want?”

Silence.

The man chuckled again. “Power. Everything. All that you have. Oh, including that pretty piece of ass, your wife. The whole deal.”

Taehyung gritted his teeth, relapsing into stony silence, willing the car to move faster. The tires squealed, and he jumped out even before the ignition was turned off. Another car pulled up right behind him. Wo Bin jumped out, concern written all over his features.

Taehyung sprinted towards the nursery, heart thudding and making him feel sick.

“Y/N? Y/N?” He shouted at the top of his lungs. “Y/N!!”

No baby in the crib.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

Se Jong laughed, snorting again. “No boy at home? Ready to talk business now?”

Wo Bin watched Taehyung collapse onto the floor, squatting weakly. Sweat was pouring down his clothes.

“What do you want?”

“Now that’s the right tone, that pleading tone is good to hear. I’ll call in five.” The line went dead.

Taehyung stared at his phone screen blankly, feeling numb throughout.

“The fuck were you shouting about?”

Taehyung looked up startled, and saw you standing before him, your face cross. Most importantly, a child was on your hips, hugging you like a koala. His son. Jaemin.

He sputtered his words out.

“I- was just… looking for… never mind, Y/N.”

You gave him the hardest glare you could muster, wild at being interrupted in the middle of a diaper change.

Taehyung got up, pulling his subordinate by his sleeve, dragging him to the window.

“What the fuck is Se Jong high on, Bin-ah?” he spat, staring at the confused man.

“What exactly did he say, sir?”

Taehyung could hardly contain his loudness. “He told me he had kidnapped my son for fuck’s sake?”

“Kidnapped?”

You spun around on hearing Wo Bin hiss the word.

“But little Jaemin is here, sir.” Taehyung blew out his cheeks while Wo Bin scratched his head.

“Get me that bitch, that loser bitch in Klammer.”

Taehyung was pacing angrily when the orderly at Klammer Institute let Na Yeon talk into the phone.

“What have you done, bitch?” He screamed, anger rising exponentially. “What is the deal with Se Jong? I’m going to fucking ruin you-“

“What happened?” There was an agonizing silence spanning a whole minute. And then the woman giggled into the phone. “Ooh, something juicy did happen, huh?” She sounded surprised. “Se Jong? Who, the banker? What did he do? Spill the tea, it’s so boring here in the psych ward.”

He held his nose, trying to force himself to calm down. “You didn’t fucking send him?”

She chortled, annoying him to no end. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I hope he kills that bitch.  So that-“

He disconnected the call, cursing out loud.

── ⋆✩⋆ ──--

Se Jong was in the mood for celebration. He was going to strip everything Taehyung had built and become the new lord. Everything Kim Taehyung had built, all his drug cartels, his businesses, everything was going to be his. He was going to be so fucking powerful.

His phone rang again.

“Man, everything OK?”

“Yes, everything’s smooth. How you holding up?”

“Alright here. Little biter we got here. Bit my arm. Can’t wait to get rid of her.”

Se Jong was slow to catch the last word.

“Her?”

“Yeah, man. Kim’s girl.”

Se Jong spat the whiskey he was sipping all over his car’s windscreen. “What the hell are you saying? I told you to get his son!”

“But his wife was late from the clinic, we couldn’t hang out there no more without no one bein’ suspicious. Chill, dude, we snatched the daughter from school. What difference is it gonna make? Boy or girl, both are his, right?”

His entire neck vein was bulging prominently when Se Jong shouted into the phone:

“He doesn’t give a fuck about that one!”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Did you say ‘kidnapped’, Wo Bin?” You advanced towards him, suspicion setting off a loud alarm in your brain. “What is happening here?”

Taehyung stepped nearer to you, murmuring that it was nothing of significance.

“No,” you pushed him away, snapping at him. “Tell me now.”

“He was probably drunk, or high on something, he said he had kidnapped our baby,” Taehyung said, the relieved expression on his face changing as he saw the horror on your face.

“Y/N? Jaemin is safe. So- so… why are you….”

“Oh my God! Ha Neul! Where is my daughter?” Bunching his shirt in your fists, you screamed at him. “Tell me you checked on her. Did you call the school? Did you?”

He looked helplessly at Wo Bin, not daring to answer. Ha Neul hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“You’re pathetic,” you spat out, rushing out to get your shoes.

“Y/N! Where are you going?” he called after you, running to keep up with your pace.

“To fetch my baby. Because you clearly don’t give a shit about her.”

He pulled on your elbow, stilling you. “Listen. I will get her. You stay here with Jaemin.”

“You think I am gonna trust you? You forgot my baby girl, you bitch!”

Taehyung winced at the word, fully aware that Wo Bin was listening.

“Y/N, fucking see reason…” His phone rang again. “Se Jong, I’ll end you, do you hea-“

You snatched the phone from him, screaming into it. “Listen, motherfucker, give me my baby back, or I’ll shove your balls down your fucking throat.”

Taehyung wrestled the phone away, motioning for you to be patient. He swore and cussed briefly, nodding at Wo Bin and they bolted out of the door before you could blink.

“HEY!”

But they had already gone. When you tried to run after them, armed guys blocked your way, brandishing rifles and guns and making you retreat.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

You were pacing nervously around, not able to think clearly. Jaemin was sent to his nanny, under strict orders to stay put. Your baby, your little Min Ha Neul, was she alright? How foolish and ignorant these goons were, letting a guy kidnap a kid right under their armed noses. Fucking losers. Poor baby Ha Neul, she was probably scared out of her wits.

It reminded you of when Yoongi had been locked up in that basement. The scary memories wrapped you in sheets of terror, smothering your lungs. You collapsed in a half-faint, hitting the floor with a thud. Something poked at your butt. Bleary eyed, you reached down and removed the cold object, cursing at it for jabbing you.

The object glinted in your fingers. You had seen it already; it was the chain Taehyung always wore around his neck. There was a small Abloy key attached to the chain. The key was somehow special. It opened something. But you had no idea what.

You threw it away, the faint cling of the chain resounding against the flooring. So what if it was special? You couldn’t be bothered to worry about it. Not when your baby was somewhere, cold and probably scared too. She was only a child, your precious child. It made your blood boil that Taehyung had completely forgotten about Ha Neul in the first place.

It felt like history was repeating itself, mocking at you cruelly. First, Min Yoongi. Now, Min Ha Neul. At least you knew where Yoongi had been. You knew he had been locked in the basement, waiting to be saved. But for Ha Neul, you felt so helpless, not knowing where she was. You traced your thoughts back. Basement. You looked at the chain lying forgotten on the floor. The key.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Se Jong! Show your face, you filthy cocksucker!”

The garage was eerily empty, unused cars parked at odd angles, jamming the place. Everything was dusty and forgotten.

“Bin-ah, cover the right flank, I’m going to towards the left,” Taehyung whispered, cocking his gun.

There was utter silence, not even the rustle of leaves providing any relief. Taehyung listened for a sign, any sign, to deduce where your daughter was. It would take hours to comb through each rattled car, not to mention the time it would take for just two men to accomplish the feat.

The loud ding of Taehyung’s phone echoed around. Sliding against a car’s door, Taehyung squatted down and slid his phone out.

03:10 Unknown sender

Throw your guns away & raise your hands. Both of you.

Taehyung turned on his phone’s flashlight and shone it under the maze of cars. There were no feet anywhere. That meant his enemy was most probably in one of the cars. But which one?

“Boss,” Wo Bin hissed, his voice slicing through the silence. From his vantage point, Taehyung saw Wo Bin crawl under a line of cars.

Tucking his phone back, Taehyung started crawling too, inching slowly forward. Wo Bin gestured towards a black Chevrolet parked a few paces ahead. He pointed to his eyes, and then to the floor. Taehyung squinted hard, and then he realized what it was.

There was a wet patch under the car. AC condensation. They had found the car.

Taking careful aim, Taehyung took a shot at the tires, and Wo Bin followed suit. Just as the first bullet hit the wheel disc, Ha Neul’s voice rang out in a high-pitched scream.

“Daddy!”

Wo Bin advanced ahead, rushing in the direction of the scream. Taehyung’s fingers were groping for his gun when a bullet hit the ground dangerously close to Wo Bin. More gunshots followed in quick succession, and Ha Neul wailed again, this time her voice broken by a sob.

“Daddy!”

Despite his better judgement, Taehyung crept out from under the cars, in full view of any hidden attacker.

“Min Ha Neul!”

“Daddy!”

“I’m coming, baby!”

A bullet whizzed through the air, hitting him square in the forearm. Every angry nerve in him was roused, and he ran like a cheetah, ducking under cars and jumping over hoods, not minding the rain of bullets showering all around him.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

The key fit like magic. You had initially thought that it was too small to fit. But it clicked open just fine. What were you going to find behind the door? It was scary and mysterious, but if there were a tunnel you could crawl out of, you would do it in a heartbeat just for your baby.

Slowly, you pushed the door open, met with eerie darkness. You fumbled, feeling around, and touching what felt like a toggle switch. You flicked it on, and the room was flooded with blinding radiance. The sight before you knocked all the breath out of your lungs.

There were shelves and shelves made of crystal, filled with hauntingly familiar things. Photos of you adorned the walls, framed in gold.  There were little boxes, which you found to contain empty candy wrappers, used lipstick tubes, hair ties, juice straws, every little odd thing collected in each box. There were your old shoes, ones that you had thrown out before you had even met Yoongi.

On the far left was a shelf of books. There was also a chair with a reading light. You looked closer, and found that the books were Virginia Woolf, Charlotte Bronte, and a few other authors you exclusively read. They weren’t from your own collection; they had the seal of the district library on them. Leafing through the pages, you found out that you had borrowed every one of those books at some point in time. Your signature was on all of them. So was Taehyung’s. The dates showed that Taehyung had borrowed them long ago. Long before Yoongi came into your life.

There were more boxes, more things to go through. But you were drawn to the turquoise colored crystal trinket box that was right at the center of the room. You reached out and took it, the cool crystal sending a subconscious shiver up your back. You opened it slowly, and your jaw dropped.

Nestled in it comfortably were your and Yoongi’s wedding rings. They sparkled and winked at you, catching the light concentrated by the crystal they were placed in. You were holding them, not knowing what to feel, when you heard Taehyung’s muffled voice.

“Y/N!”

Your heart turned cold. He couldn’t catch you at the basement. It was incredibly creepy, and you had no idea what to do with the sudden sensory overload. You almost dropped the crystal box, hastening to replace it. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a framed photograph.

You. With your parents. It had been hanging in your childhood home.

Forgetting about the man calling your name, you reached over and took the photograph. The glass had not a speck of dust. It had been wiped so clean that it gleamed. You stood there, quietly sobbing, not sure how to deal with everything, when soft footsteps stole behind you.

“Y/N?”

He was carrying Ha Neul over his shoulder. “Shh, she’s sleeping.” He beckoned to you, inviting you into a group hug. You silently sidled over to him, crying into his shoulder.

“Sh, baby, she’s fine. She’s fine. It’s okay.” He patted your hair, kissing the top of your head. “Here.” He passed your daughter to you.

You cuddled your sleeping child, all the worry easing away. You held her against your bosom, chest heaving with the force of your sobs. Her sleepy little fingers clenched and unclenched, finding purchase at your shirt.

“Taehyung… all this? Why didn’t.. how.. I never knew…”

“It’s alright,” he repeated, soothing you. “We’ll talk about it later.”

The wetness of his elbow soaked a red patch on your shirt.

“You’re bleeding,” you hissed, pupils wide with horror.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, attempting to draw the injured hand away. It didn’t really matter. Because he was with you.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung was sitting on the couch, staring into the space. He hadn’t meant for you to see the memento room. It made him feel embarrassed. His cheeks were hot. He was fanning himself with his hands when he heard your light step.

“Taehyung?”

He gazed at you, no words filling the silence that stretched over several seconds.

You took a step forward, unsure. “Why- the flowers- how long-“

He patted the couch, motioning for you sit down. When you silently glided to the couch, he took your hand in his.

“Now, tell me, baby. Ask me anything but take a deep breath first.”

Man, breathing was so difficult. “I saw you at the cemetery.”

“Oh.”

You stared longer, hoping for another word to fall from his lips. “Why? Every Wednesday? What do they have to do with you? Why do you-”

He blinked, clearing his throat. “They gave birth to you. They deserve to be worshipped. Centuries of destined ancestry and lineage led to their making you. They gave you to this world. They gave you to me.”

You were taken aback. “And the room? Those things there? You stalked me?”

He scoffed lightly. “I loved you. Still do. Always will.”

“But wasn’t it Yoongi you wanted to destroy? You…“

He squeezed your hand. “He was an obstacle. Nothing else. I was blind with hatred, angry that he’d taken you away from me.”

“Why didn’t-” you forced yourself to breathe. “- why didn’t you let me know? Even before I dated Yoongi… Why?” Your voice broke. You would have probably declined, but who knew, you might have even agreed to go on a date with him.

He simply sighed. “Thinking about roads not taken seldom gives you peace of mind.”

You blinked back the tears. “And Woolf? You read Woolf?”

“It is all rather pointless and second-rate without you,” he quoted, flashing a boxy smile.

You didn’t know what to say. It was impossible to love Taehyung. He had killed Yoongi. He had almost drowned Ha Neul. But…

Ha Neul peeked her pretty head around the door.

“Mommy, can I play with baby Jae in the nursery?”

“Yes, you can, sweetheart.”

She ran away happily.

He had saved Ha Neul from the kidnapper. He had taken a bullet to protect your daughter. It was all so crazy and complicated.

“So,” he drawled, breaking into your thoughts. “Do you think you can love me?”

“No.”

He nodded and bowed his head. He hesitated before asking the next question. He feared hearing something he wouldn’t like.

“Maybe you could learn to like me?”

He held his breath as you thought about it.

“I –“

Your words hung in the air, unspoken, when the sound of guns going off echoed throughout the mansion. Taehyung jumped up, drawing his gun from the holster, and pulling you behind him.

“Stay back, Y/N,” he said, rushing towards the door. “Don’t come out until I call for you.”

A bullet whizzed in through the window, hitting a framed picture and shattering the glass.

“Down, stay down,” he shouted, bolting through the door. He stood there for a moment, hesitating. Turning on his heel, he ran back to you and knelt on the floor. Cupping your cheeks, he kissed you hastily, as if he were scared that you would disappear the next second.

“Y/N, don’t move,” he urged, shaking your shoulders until you nodded in response.

He was out of the door the next moment, before he could hear you shriek urgently:

“Ha Neul and Jaemin! What about the babies?”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Taehyung ran towards the source of the gunshots. He knew it was from his own guards. He knew the sounds of the rifles by heart. But who were they shooting at?

The sounds grew louder and louder, and he ran up the stairs in hot pursuit. There he was, dressed in all black, the man responsible for all the chaos.

Taehyung ground his teeth. He should have expected the asshole to show up sometime. He hadn’t pegged him to be one of the vengeful types, but here he was, proving his assumption wrong.

The guards were all pointing their rifles at the man, but the indecision was palpable.

“Don’t hesitate, just shoot!” Wo Bin cried, egging the guards on. “Casualties are unavoidable in battles.”

The guards looked at each other, fingers still unmoving on their triggers. They needed someone from higher up in the chain of command to issue an order.

Taehyung calmly walked onto the damp terrace floor, the click of his shoes enough to instill reassurance in his guards.

“Let Wo Bin go,” he said, addressing the man holding a gun to his aide’s head. “It’s only you and me. We’ll sort it out between us.”

The man cocked his gun, pressing the muzzle firmly against Wo Bin’s head.

“Y/N and the children, where are they?”

Taehyung tilted his head to the side, rolling his tongue into his cheek.

“Let him go and I’ll take you to see them.”

The man only snickered in response. “I wouldn’t trust you with a penny. Bring them here or I’ll drill holes into his head.”

Turning his gun so the muzzle was facing the sky, Taehyung took a step forward.

“Now, Namjoon, you know you aren’t capable of-“

Kim Namjoon removed the gun for a split second to fire a bullet straight into a guard’s chest. The guard toppled over like a tile of dominoes.

Bringing the gun back to Wo Bin’s head, Namjoon snapped at Taehyung. “Yeah?”

“Alright, alright. I’ll fetch them.” Taehyung turned to a guard, and the man scurried away to fulfill the order.

“How did he get here?” Taehyung barked at Wo Bin, who was still trapped in Namjoon’s hold.

One of the guards moved forward cautiously, reaching Taehyung’s side.

“Wo Bin was cleaning up after Se Jong and his gang, sir. Half our manpower was out in the field assisting him. He… dropped by at Klammer Institute, alone, on his way back. He left his gun at the security desk for frisking.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Taehyung kicked the pebbles scattered on the rugged floor, overwhelmed with anger. Damn Wo Bin for going out and getting caught unarmed. By Kim Namjoon of all people.

“Just shoot me, boss,” Wo Bin said, his voice steady and calm. “Don’t think twice.”

“Shut up, Bin-ah,” Taehyung snapped. He wasn’t losing his best man and his family in a single night. Not to Namjoon; Not to anyone.

“Listen, Namjoon. Don’t involve the rest of them in this. It’s just you and me. Man-to-man.”

“Namjoon!” your voice cut through the cold night air. Jaemin was gathered to your chest, and Ha Neul’s little hand was secured tightly in yours.

“Y/N! Come on over here,” Namjoon shouted, gesturing to his side.

“Oh no, no, no,” Taehyung said, firmly planting himself in front of you. “You have to kill me first.”

“No!” you screamed. “The children! Think about the children! Stop!”

Namjoon bit his lip, glowering at his rival. “Get rid of the guards, then. We’ll see how much of a man you are without a gun. Without your army of gunmen.”

The barb in his tone got to Taehyung, and he shouted at his men to get the hell out of there. He turned to you, yelling at the top of his lungs.

“You! Get back downstairs and send a guard to prepare Namjoon’s coffin.” Ha Neul winced at the shout and tugged at your hand urgently.

“Mommy, I’m scared.”

The guards filed out of the terrace, encircling you and the children so you wouldn’t try and make a run for it. They settled themselves on the stairs, waiting with anxious expressions and bated breaths.

You huddled with the children on the sofa, whispering soothing words to Ha Neul and reassuring her as best as you could.

The three men on the terrace were left alone at last. Namjoon knew that Wo Bin was trained in combat. Wo Bin had been a Captain in the Army before his discharge. The man wasn’t Taehyung’s commander-in-chief for nothing.

“Drop your gun,” Namjoon said, brandishing his weapon at Taehyung.

Taehyung complied wordlessly, dropping his gun, and kicking it away. Mustering all his strength, Namjoon whacked the gun against Wo Bin’s skull, the blunt force knocking him out completely.

“It’s just you and me now, huh?” Namjoon said, kicking his gun away to the side.

“Honestly didn’t take you for the fighter type, Namjoonah,” Taehyung goaded, settling into a boxer stance.

Namjoon charged forward, landing a solid punch in his rival’s ribs.

“Enough chit-chat.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Y/N!”

It was a high-pitched scream; in a voice you knew only too well. There was a sickening sound of glass crashing somewhere to the left of the building.

“Y/N!” this time, the yell came from the stairs, a deathly hush replacing the babble of the guards’ murmurs. The men parted silently, letting the wounded man stumble down the steps one at a time.

“Sweetie, hold your brother’s hand tight until I come, okay?” you whispered to your daughter, running up the stairs to meet him halfway.

“Namjoon!”

His face was ghastly, there were cuts all over his eyebrows and jaw. Blood dripped down his brows in a steady trickle. He was wheezing, all the wind knocked out of his lungs. A few guards rushed past you up the stairs, jostling each other in their hurry.

“Namjoon,” you repeated, kneeling on the steps. “Did you- did you…”

He coughed, spitting blood in the process. When he finally wiped his mouth, he simply nodded.

“He’s as good as dead.”

“What?!”

Without a second thought, you dashed up the stairs, not heeding Namjoon’s cries of dissent.

“Y/N, no, come back!”

── ⋆✩⋆ ──-

The guards were all clustered at the edge of the terrace, and they silently let you pass, letting you see the sight for yourself.

Kim Taehyung was sprawled out on the ceiling of the greenhouse, broken shards of glass jutting out of his body. The fall from the terrace had sent him crashing onto the glass. There was no support under his back, only the metal frames shielded him precariously from falling to his death.

His eyes had been flickering back and forth, waiting to see you. And when you came at last, a small smile graced his features. He was losing too much blood too fast.

“Y/N, come back.”

Namjoon was standing behind you, not minding the hot glares he drew from the guards. “It’s time. Come, let’s go.”

Taehyung’s mouth was twitching, and the glass had turned into red glinting blades with all the blood. His legs and hands were jerking uncontrollably, but his eyes never wavered from you.

You felt Namjoon’s hand on the small of your back.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered, gently turning you away from the ghastly sight. He had taken one step forward, pulling your arm, when you shrugged free.

“No.”

Namjoon’s mouth set in a straight line. “What?”

“Get him help, please! I can’t leave him to die. I can’t!” you pleaded, your words tumbling out fast. “Please, just save him. Please.”

The guards looked at one another, and a man cleared his throat.

“Mrs. Kim, ma’am, we tried to help but Mr. Kim waved us away before you arrived.”

You snapped your head to bark at him:

“Now I’m telling you, get that man all the help he needs.”

Everyone rushed into action, until only Namjoon and you were the ones standing frozen on the terrace.

“Really, Y/N?” Namjoon said, disgusted. He barely tried to conceal the contempt in his tone.

You puffed up your chest and looked at Namjoon in the eye.

“Yes, really. I am not a killer. Neither are you.”

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

Namjoon’s doctor was stitching his eyebrow up when a nurse came looking for you.

“Is Mrs. Kim here?”

“Yes?”

You had to admit that you were terrified. Utterly terrified of what news she might be bringing.

“The surgeon will be briefing you about Mr. Kim’s surgery in a few minutes.”

“Yes, thanks. I’ll be there.”

Namjoon exhaled, nodding at his doctor. He took your hand, squeezing it tight.

“I’m with you. Y/N.”

You stared at him, remembering all the hot insults he had thrown at you over the years. He had been mean and cruel to you whenever you had chanced to meet him in social gatherings.

“How did you come? I thought you had pegged me as a gold-digging whore.”

Namjoon winced at your words. He had been wrong to judge you. But he was gracious enough to own up to his mistake.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I am sorry I behaved so badly. I was wrong and I am heartily ashamed of myself for not trusting you. I am sorry I didn’t honor Yoongi’s faith in you.”

You marveled at his fierce loyalty to Yoongi. Your husband would have been immensely proud of his friend.

“But how did you realize? I had no way of contacting you or anyone else.”

Namjoon nodded, agreeing. “Kang Minsook, the prosecutor, called me last year and told me that he had found about Bong Ju, Yoongi’s manager who went missing.”

He ruffled his hair, squinting at the window. “He said that there was something off about the whole case and told me that Bong Ju knew something more. But he was missing, there was no trace of Bong Ju anywhere.”

You didn’t interrupt, choosing to listen in silence. He went on.

“I hired a detective to find out Bong Ju’s whereabouts. I was notified that he was back in the city for a brief time, but he vanished again. But as it turned out, I needn’t have hired a detective after all.”

“What do you mean?” Your curiosity was thoroughly kindled.

“Bong Ju got in touch with Minsook, saying that he had found someone called Seung Jo in Malta. I learned that Seung Jo had once been your chauffeur and had mysteriously disappeared too.”

You felt blood rush to your cheeks on hearing the name. But you let him continue without interrupting.

“I went to Malta and got hold of Bong Ju. He told me he had gone there to find out about Seung Jo. I talked to Seung Jo and Bong Ju, and finally realized what Taehyung had been doing to you over these years.” He looked at you with soft eyes. “I am so sorry that you had to go through all that alone, Y/N.”

You were at a loss for words. So many emotions were pelting at you, making it hard to breathe.

“I…” you looked at the sincere face gazing at you. “It’s okay now, Namjoon. I am grateful that you came when you did.”

You didn’t have any grudges against him. You rubbed your nose and looked at the corridor teeming with elderly people.

“I have to go to Klammer and see Ma tomorrow.” Taehyung had kept you from visiting Yoongi’s mother for some reason only known to him.

The nurse returned, walking up to you briskly. “The surgeon is waiting, Mrs. Kim.”

Namjoon whispered softly, “Ready to go?”

You shook your head. “I- I don’t know.”

“Hey,” he said, tucking your hair behind your ear. “I’m gonna be there with you, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You nodded, summoning a bit of courage from the universe.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

── ⋆✩⋆ ──--

The surgeon looked stern, and you felt like you were going to be sick. Clutching Namjoon’s hand tight, you drew closer to the surgeon, heart hammering away so hard you thought you were dying.

“Mrs. Kim, the surgery went well, the patient is stable for now.”

Your breathing grew raspier.

“But…”

The nerve in your temple started pounding in fear.

“There was a complication, his spinal cord was damaged too much…”

Namjoon’s hand was going numb with how tightly you were gripping it.

“… and he stroked out in surgery, causing him to be paralyzed completely.”

The stunned silence hung around you like a smothering wet blanket, muffling everything else.

“Paralyzed? You mean he can’t-?”

“I’m truly very sorry, Mrs. Kim.”

Namjoon saw that you had gone mute, and he stepped in to ask the surgeon some questions.

“Can he talk?” you heard him ask, and the doctor shook his head.

“Speech therapy can help….”

You zoned out again, unable to take any more.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

“Are you sure about this, Y/N?” Namjoon asked, looking at the papers in your hand.

“Yes,” you beamed, smiling at him. “You are the best person to do this. I’ll join in and do my bit as the Chairperson, sure, but what the company needs right now is you. I know you have that fire in you, Namjoon.”

He smiled, his dimples popping out.

“I want the Min empire to return to its formal glory,” you said, passing the papers to him, “Before Min Ha Neul is of age and inherits it. She’s going to be the next Min to sit in her father’s office.”

Wo Bin had set up a therapy room in Taehyung’s mansion, overlooking the garden. You held the rails tightly, gazing at the butterflies flitting over the flowers.

Behind the one-way glass, Kim Taehyung was in his wheelchair, struggling with gripping his pen.

Ha Neul was tiptoeing on her tiny little feet, trying hard to reach the paints on the shelf. The nanny helped her lift the paint set, and she clapped her hands in delight.

“I’m so happy,” she squealed.

Her nanny smiled mildly. “Oh, really? And why is that?”

Ha Neul considered the question seriously.

“Daddy lets me paint his face.” She glanced sideways at Taehyung. “And he lets baby Jae sit on his lap.” She put her finger on her lips and beckoned her nanny to come closer. “I thought daddy hated me. He always shouted. He always went away.”

She stole a glance at her father again. “But now he is here all the time. And he doesn’t talk.” A huge gummy smile lit up her face. “And I paint his face.”

Taehyung had speech training all day. It was agony to fail at uttering the simplest of sounds. Whenever he tried to speak, it came out in a croak. The drool accompanying it humiliated him. He couldn’t bear to be reduced to such a state. He almost wanted to give up trying to speak, just to save himself the embarrassment of letting you see his spittle running down his chin.

Physical therapy took up a good chunk of his time too. His legs were completely paralyzed; but his hands had very limited movement. He couldn’t grip a cup, but he could hold a pen if he tried long enough.

“You can do it, Mr. Kim,” the therapist said, encouraging him to go on. “You already wrote so many letters, you can write one today too!”

Taehyung was screaming obscenities inside his head. He was able to write just one alphabet per day. Just one! The pen kept falling out of his stupid fingers, and he wanted to scream till he went crazy. It had taken him 7 days so far, to write something so simple.

The nib tore through the paper, bleeding some ink and smudging on the side of his palm. He had finally done it. He had produced a wobbly, crooked ‘U’.

The therapist took the paper like a proud parent, waving it in joy.

“You did it, Mr. Kim! That’s such a great job!”

Taehyung wanted to kick the man’s balls. All the exaggerated joy was making him paranoid. He wondered if the therapist was actually mocking him.

His eyes swung to the one-way glass, and he saw you deep in discussion with Kim Namjoon. There was a hatred burning inside him so hard that it seemed to roll off his skin in waves.

── ⋆✩⋆ ──-

“So, Wo Bin is gonna be the next mafia kingpin, I hear,” Namjoon said. “I believe Taehyung already named him his successor.”

You shrugged. “I have no problem with him as long as he does his thing without poking into my life.”

Namjoon’s scar became wobbly as he raised his eyebrow. “You really don’t mind? The man’s a fricking clone of Taehyung.”

“Well, he considers Taehyung family. So, I guess he considers me family too. He is good with the kids at least.”

Namjoon’s phone buzzed, and he reached for it in one quick flash.

“Ha Ni?” you asked, referring to his girlfriend.

“Nope. Not Ha Ni. We broke up long ago. There’s no one, in fact.” His eyes were scanning his phone screen. A slow smile spread over his face. “Guess what?”

“What?” you asked, the energy catching on.

“Jung Hoseok just texted, he’s coming back with his wife and daughter. I sent Kang Minsook to help him out of all that tax fraud stuff, and he’s finally out of the mess.”

“Oh!” You couldn’t help the squeal of joy. “Oh my God, Joon that’s wonderful! Thank you so much!”

You threw your arms around him, squeezing him in a tight bear hug. Namjoon butted his forehead against yours, gazing at you fondly. On some impulse, he bent his head down, his plush lips brushing against yours.

Before they could touch properly, you pulled back, shaking your head.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, “I’m just- I’m not… I’m sorry”

Namjoon’s eyes were tender. “Hey, don’t worry. I understand.”

── ⋆✩⋆ ──-

Taehyung boiled in rage when he saw Namjoon bend his head to brush your lips. He looked at the paper rustling in front of him. It had taken him eight days. Eight fucking days to spell it out. The bitterness smoldered in his chest, spilling into the pupils of his eyes.

A rush of wind caused the paper to flutter, and it flew down to the floor. Taehyung’s eyes focused on the lopsided letters.

I LOVE YOU 

His therapist snapped his head up from his position on the floor. He had been massaging Taehyung’s feet when he saw it happen.

Taehyung had just twitched and moved his left foot.

✧ ═════ ✥.❖.✥ ═════ ✧

  Taglist: @saxpam24 @dameleia​ @min-hoax @rkivemagic @aassiyaa @sinner-aura @lmepno @belovedjinnie @flowesona @nooooooooona @gucieguciekook @angellgguk @forever-once-gone @swon09ah @ciderxi @mooniconic @jeon-junggoop @t-e-r-r-i--f-i-e-d  @byebyebycycle @boneless-piza @xx-naina-xx 

[darling-i-read-it]

Marguerite Baker

Part 3

RE7 Rewrite Masterlist

Ethan Winters x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: spoilers for re7, violence, injuries, blood, gross rotted stuff, marguerites boss battle so gross sack thing, bugs, injuries

Author’s Note: I am having a ton of fun with this! At the time of me writing this I haven’t posted any of the parts lol so hopefully you all are enjoying it as well!

Some of these lines are directly from the game so they may sound familiar.

Summary: Getting the serum recipe, going through the old house, killing Marguerite and getting the D-series arm.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator. Some of these lines are directly from the game so they may sound familiar.

(not my gif) (i'm not posting any pics of marguerites boss fight cause I know a lot of people are super grossed out with it and I don't blame them lol)

Ethan dozed off in the trailer. You sat on the counter, counting each and every bullet the two of you had together. You looked around at everything in the trailer. You were fairly certain it was Zoe’s. She had left behind a couple extra weapons and bullets that you scrounged together.

Ethan began to stir after about 30 minutes of sleep. He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. You handed him a water bottle you had found in Zoe’s fridge. He took it gratefully and drank about half of it. He ran his hands through his hair, taking a deep breath as you handed him all of his stuff back.

“We have to go to the old house,” you told him. He nodded.

“Did you get any sleep?” You shook your head.

“I didn’t want any. I’m too hyped up on adrenaline. The second we get out of here I’m going to crash for days.” He laughed a bit and nodded, standing up. He got himself situated. He got himself together, looking you up and down. You were both dirty and worn from the entire situation. You looked like you were about to collapse if you closed your eyes, your gaze wide. You opened the door a bit and looked around outside.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked. You shrugged and grabbed a gun.

“I don’t know what else we can do. We’ll get lost without Zoe.”

“That’s a good point.”

“I’m the brains, you're the brawn babe.” He rolled his eyes and looked himself up and down. He was scrawny. He barely had any muscle on him. “We share the brain and brawn then. Come on.”

====

The two of you made your way to the old house. It was the same place you had seen Mia go in the video she made for the two of you. You had some idea where you had to go then. You just had to find the serum. That was it.

You stayed close together as you walked through the place. You found some extra weapons along with things that you could use back at the house. You were quick and as quiet as you could be, only speaking when you needed to speak. As you entered one of the rooms you picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table. You read through it quickly.

“The mothers name is Marguerite. The man is Jack, which we know and the boy is Lucas,” you said quietly. “Seemed like they were a regular family before all this. I wonder what went wrong,” you whispered. He nodded and looked over your head at the paper.

“Must have been something huge.”

“No shit.”

Suddenly something rammed into the gate wall behind you. You and Ethan turned around quickly, him standing between you and the gate. Mia was there, her hands through the holes. She looked desperate.

“Ethan!” she said breathily.

“Mia!” you said mockingly. “Are you going to try and kill us again?” Ethan grabbed your arm.

“That wasn’t me...I’m sorry,” she tried to say.

“No more bullshit Mia. I want some answers. Y/N told me what you told her but I know there’s more,” Ethan said.

“I know, I know you’re right. And I always wanted to tell you but I can only remember a little and the rest is gone!” Behind her Lucas appeared from the corner, grabbing her tightly and pulling her back.

“Daddy right? Who are you, you precious thing?” Lucas stuck his head out at you, a disgusting smile on his face. “We would get along,” he muttered. Ethan blocked Lucas’s view of you as he slinked away. “Well don’t just stand there Ethan! Do something.” Mia yelled for help and the door shut. You moved aside and looked at where she had just gone.

“That guy seems like a dick. We would not get along.” Ethan scoffed.

“Come on. We have to get that fucking serum.”

====

The two of you made it through to the other side of the old house just in time for Marguerite to push you down a hole in the ground. You figured you would have plenty of time to get in and out but she had caught you.

As you landed in the wet ground underneath the house, you felt the wind get knocked out of you. Marguerite's bugs flew down and beside you Ethan was standing. He used the fire thrower to the best of his ability and without even standing up you shot Marguerite in the face. She stumbled back and then forward, falling into the hole with the both of you. You screeched, quickly climbing up. Ethan was hot on your tails. Marguerite slinked away underneath you into the rest of the underground of the house.

He held tightly onto your arm, letting out a loud annoyed sigh.

“She’s nice,” you muttered.

“Not a great cook though.” You laughed and nodded. “Are you alright?” You nodded curtly.

“I think. You?” He nodded, holding up his hand.

“Still stapled on.” You rolled your eyes and turned around, walking back up the stairs. You opened the door that she had stopped you from opening. It opened up carefully and you were able to step inside. There were a lot of hanging baby dolls. In between some candles was a box. You rushed over to it and opened it up.

There seemed to be some sort of bones inside, along with a vile. On the back of the lid was some sort of recipe.

“D-series cranial nerve and D-series peripheral nerve,” you muttered aloud. “This is just the recipe for the serum, not the serum itself.” He let out a groan.

“Awesome.” The phone behind the two of you rang.

“If she knew where the phone was she should have come here herself,” you muttered. Ethan picked it up and you leaned against it so you could hear.

“Well? Did you find the serum?” she asked.

“We just got done dealing with your mom and her fucking bugs. Wish you could have warned me.”

“Sorry about that. What about the serum?”

“Haven’t found any but we did find out how to make one. A D-series head and arm. That can’t be right,” he muttered.

“A head? I think I have that around here somewhere.”

“You do?” he said incredulously.

“I don’t know about the arm though. Have you searched the whole house?”

“No not yet. We still have to check the second floor.”

“Alright, check it out. No funny business you two we’re on a mission.” You rolled your eyes.

“We’ll try to keep our hands to ourselves. We’ll meet you at the trailer if we find it.” He hung up the phone. Before he could even say anything you ventured further into the second floor. It wasn’t long before you found a door that had a single lantern on it.

“Looks like we need the other lantern,” you said aloud.

“This is why you’re the brains.” You rolled your eyes.

“Marguerite had one when she went down there.”

“I am not going down there.”

“You may have to.” The two of you walked back to where the hole in the ground one and saw the lantern just before Marguerite's impossibly long arms came to take it away. You let out a shaky sigh and gestured to him.

“Man first. We live in a patriarchal society.”

“I hate you.” He climbed the ladder down and looked around before you even thought about going down. You waited for a minute and he gestured for you to follow. You were careful as you went down and noticed Marguerite had some sort of pathway for the two of you to follow.

You went down that and came up to a green house of sorts. You went inside warily, guns raised. You and Ethan shared one last look before going up the stairs.

Marugite crashed through the window, causing you both to fall backwards. She gave you an intense look, her long limbs reaching around you.

“I’m her mother. Not you!” She hurried away. You and Ethan quickly regained your balance and held up your guns.

“Did you see her-”

“Yeah.” You swallowed hard and went up the stairs.

It took you and Ethan a good amount of time to get through her. But you had the grenades and Ethan had the flame thrower. Between the two of you, it took longer than it should have. She blew up after some time, leaving behind only her lantern.

You picked it up.

“Just fucking stay dead okay?!” Ethan said, out of breath. You nodded.

“I second that. Let’s just go and get the arm okay?” He swallowed, looking over at you. You watched as his eyes went big. “What?”

“Your chest.” You looked down and saw blood was pooling around your chest and shoulder area. Your eyes went wide as well as the pain hit you. Marguerite must have gotten you and you hadn’t even noticed with all the adrenaline. Ethan quickly rushed over to you and put his hand on your shoulder. “We’re going back to the trailer so I can look at this.” You nodded and let him help you walk out of the green house.

It was a very short walk to the trailer. He sat you down on the bed and kneeled in front of you. He tugged at the hem of your shirt.

“At least buy me dinner first,” you said through a groan. He gave you a look and he helped you take the shirt off. You had a large gash from your collarbone to your arm. Ethan winced just at the sight of it. He pulled out some of the first aid he had found.

“This is going to hurt.” You nodded as he poured something on it. You winced through gritted teeth. He pulled out some bandages. “You aren’t dying on me now, I don’t care what you say.”

“You held your own pretty good back there,” you admitted.

“Yeah, with your help.” You watched as he focused his eyes on your wound. He looked so intense. You had always liked Ethan but when Mia went missing he was all you knew. As you stared into his eyes you thought maybe you had always loved him.

Loved him?

It hit you like a bag of bricks. You took a short breath in and Ethan just assumed it was the pain. You had to look away as you felt yourself get flustered. He was your best friend's husband. But she had been gone for three years and she was always gone before that anyway. You found it in yourself to look back at him. He was smiling slightly up at you.

“It’s the best I can do.”

“It’s great,” you said. “I already feel better. Thank you Doctor Winters.”

“Just doin my job.” You swallowed and stood up. He grabbed your arm, shaking his head.

“You aren’t going with me. I can get the arm.” You shook your head more aggressively than him.

“I’m not letting you go alone.”

“You just said I could hold my own.”

“And you admitted you needed me.”

His hand was firm on your arm. You stared into each other's eyes and suddenly it was so obvious you had always loved him. That's why you came. Sure, you hoped Mia was okay but truthfully you couldn’t let him die if you could help it. The way he laughed and the way he hated beer but drank it anyway and the way he reloaded a gun was weird and the way he looked at you.

“I’ll be okay. Get some rest. Hopefully Zoe will come here before I do.” He let your arm go. He had felt the tension.

You were getting so dizzy from blood loss you had to sit down.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. You reached forward and held his hand.

“Please be safe Ethan.” He nodded curtly and left the trailer. You put your head down on the pillow and let yourself breathe evenly.

====

Ethan returned with the D-series arm only a half an hour later. Zoe was still not there. You were sleeping peacefully on the bed, your face finally at peace. He watched you for a moment. You were his only friend over this whole Mia thing. Most of his friends beforehand had left him when he got super into trying to find her but not you.

And then you told him everything and it all kinda changed.

He leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. If you died...he couldn’t deal with it. You were his best friend. He...he loved you. He didn’t want to admit it to himself because of Mia but he really truly did. He ran his hand over his face, letting that settle in.

Suddenly the phone rang, waking you up. Ethan turned quickly and picked it up.

“Now where the hell are you? You know what, nevermind. We only need the head and you’ve got it.” You stood up and walked over, putting your head against the phone like you usually did.

“Hey buddy!” You let out an annoyed sigh. Lucas. “I thought you should know. I decided Zoe needed a time out. She and Mia are here with me. And they’re keeping each other company.”

“Just let them both go, what do you need them for?!”

“That’s family business Ethan! Not your concern understand? Now. If you want the head feel free to come by any time and I’ll give it to ya! But only if you participate in a little activity I put together for you two!”

“Where are they?” he asked.

“I know you’re excited! But don’t worry! It's not going anywhere. First step I need you to take partner is for you to take a look in that fridge there.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh come on now, don’t be like that. You wanna have fun don’t ya? Now look in the fridge.” Lucas hung up. You gave Ethan a look. Ethan put the phone down. You walked over to the fridge and found inside the deputies head. You scoffed.

“This guy again. Man.” You picked it up, wincing at the pain and the smell. On the back of his head was a note. “‘The pig is waiting for you in the dissection room bitch,’” you read. “Now that’s not very nice,” you muttered, putting the head back in the fridge. Ethan let out an annoyed sigh.

“This can’t ever be easy can it?”

“Hell no.” He gestured to your arm .

“How are you feeling?” You shrugged then winced.

“It’ll heal nicely,” you muttered. “How was getting the arm?” He showed it to you, waving it around as he spoke.

“Weird. I thought I saw a little girl and there were all these childrens toys. I got out of there quick though.” He put the arm down and walked up to you. “Let’s change the bandages and then we’ll go to the dissection room.”

“Bitch,” you mocked. Ethan laughed, raising his hands up to your shoulder. You sat down on the table and let him take a look.

“You aren’t lookin too good,” he muttered.

“You should never say that to a lady.” He rolled his eyes.

“You always look stunning. Even covered in blood and dirt.”

“Aw Ethan, thank you. Right back at you.” He put a new bandage on and you watched him do it. If he had looked in your eyes he would have seen the metaphorical hearts coming out of them. Finally he looked back up at your face.

“You should be okay now.”

“Thank you,” you said genuinely. He nodded curtly and stood back. “Can I ask you something?” He nodded. “Are you going to stay with Mia if she gets out of here alive?”

“Don’t ask me that,” he muttered.

“Why?”

“Because you’re messing with my vows by the answer I wanna give you.” You smiled a bit, looking down. “We have to go get whatever he left for us. Come on.” You nodded and stood up. You almost tripped forward from dizziness and he grabbed your healthy arm to keep you steady. Your faces were mere centimeters away. You looked into each other's eyes and he couldn’t help himself.

He kissed you.

Suddenly the pain from your arm was gone. You melted into his lips. He pulled away and froze. Your eyes went wide.

“Did you mean-”

“Yes.”

With that he walked out the trailer door to the dissection room.

Part 4

[wilteddaisies]

Yours - Chapter One

Azriel x Female!Reader (acotar)

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: You are Feysand’s daughter and you’ve just come home from your studies in the Day Court. Azriel needs someone with extensive training in magic in order to complete a mission for the Night Court. You happen to be just what he needs.

Fic Warnings: age gap?, probably cursing, eventual smut, wing kink ;)

Chapter Warnings: injury, mentions of blood

Note: The first chapter is here! I am so excited to share this fic. I usually don’t write fanfiction but I just couldn’t get this idea out of my head, so here it is. As always, feedback would be greatly appreciated!

CHAPTER ONE

Gods, you loved flying. Sure, winnowing back to the Night Court would have been faster, but there was absolutely nothing like soaring through the clouds, so high that the ground below faded away and there was nothing but you and the wind in your wings. You sighed as Velaris came into view. As much as you loved the ancient libraries and golden light of the Day Court, the winding streets and twinkling night lights of Velaris would always call you back home. 

Your father was waiting for you in front of your family’s river estate. You landed gracefully before taking off again in a sprint into his open arms. You squealed as he lifted you off your feet and spun you around.

“Daddy!” You laughed as he set you back on your feet, but still held you. You breathed in his familiar scent. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, sweetheart.” He gazed down at you and smiled warmly. “Your mother is at the studio but she should be home soon.” He picked up your bags and led you inside, prattling on about your mom’s business and the hell Cassian has been raising in the Illyrian camps. The elegant river house was just as you left it in the fall. The familiar lavishly furnished rooms and ever lingering scent of flowers welcomed you home. You followed your father up the staircase and to your room. 

“I’ll leave you to unpack and settle in,” he said, setting your things on the bed. He turned around to place a kiss on your hair. “Welcome home.” 

A welcome home, indeed.

That night, the entire inner circle met at the river house to celebrate your homecoming and the completion of your studies with Helion in the Day Court. The atmosphere was warm and lively in the dining hall, Cassian had no trouble convincing your father to open some bottles of his precious good wine to celebrate. You were happily chatting away with Mor about how difficult it was to focus on your studies with so many gorgeous Day Court males around, when Cassian chimed in.

“Males? What males? What are their names? I just want to talk,” he said with mock intensity. 

“You do know I am old enough to date, don’t you, Uncle Cass?” you laugh. “But anyways, they’re all too intimidated by me. And by who my father and uncles are, of course.”

“Damn straight.” He winked and Mor elbowed him in the ribs. 

“Come on, there must have been someone that kept you company while you were in the Day Court,” Mor insisted, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Even Amren and Nesta looked interested to hear your answer, but your father just tried not to look too invested in your conversation, looking down at his plate in a miserable attempt to look disinterested. 

“Well. . .” you began, trying to steer the conversation away from the truth, which was that you had never actually felt that sort of connection with anyone. Well, no one except a certain broody shadowsinger who was considered very, very off limits. 

Thankfully, you were spared the trouble of coming up with some half-assed excuse when a loud crash sounded outside the manor. Everyone at the table tensed, the mood instantly shifting. The darkened eyes and battle ready stances of your family were quick to remind you that centuries old warriors were beside you. Suddenly, weapons you hadn’t even realised they had concealed were drawn. You should have known that no one in your family would show up anywhere unarmed. Cassian drew a sword from who knows where, Mor and Amren held daggers, and Aunt Nesta just summoned her power, that alone being a deadly weapon in itself. Your mother drew your Aunt Elaine close to her. You could see darkness curling around your father’s fingertips and you followed suit, the familiar tingle of magic in your veins sparking a rush of adrenaline. 

Your father led the way as you all stalked out the front door to see. . . Azriel. You rushed forward, pushing past your father to kneel by a bleeding Azriel. 

“Oh Az, your wing.” Your heart shattered at the sight of his broken left wing, the flesh in shreds. It must have been done with something strong and fast, very fast if it managed to reach Azriel, who was amazingly swift on his wings and with his winnowing. The rest of the circle gathered around him, trying to help him up and assess the damage.

“The mortal queens,” he managed to croak out, “I heard whispers of a weapon they made to rival the fae. And when I tried to investigate it, I encountered the beast that guarded it.”

“That’s enough.” Feyre said, “Let’s get you cleaned and healed up. I’ll summon a healer immediately. You can tell us the rest after.”

“I can help.” You say and everyone turned towards you. Your hands were still shaking and your voice wavered at Azriel’s state but you steeled yourself. “I learned a lot of healing magic while I was in Helion’s court. Let me help you.” You met Azriel’s eyes and it was like he tethered you to earth, the strength and resilience you found in them seemed to flow into you, too. 

He nodded once. That was enough for Cassian and Rhys to haul one arm over each of their shoulders. 

“Where to, boss?” Cassian teased but you found pride in his eyes. And when you looked to your father, you saw the same thing. 

“Get him into my room. I’ll take it from there.”

The inner circle had retired to the river house’s various guest rooms by the early hours of the morning, but you stayed awake, the gentle glow of the healing magic from your palms never faltering even though it had been hours. After Cassian and your father got Azriel onto the bed, you made him a salve from the various powders and tonics you brought from the Day Court that would assist the healing process. Aunt Elaine had even supplied some more supplemental herbs and flowers from her garden. 

They all stayed for nearly an hour after you started the healing spell, watching as flesh and bone slowly knitted back together, when your mother finally ushered them all out, insisting that you needed to focus. You shot her a grateful smile as she also stepped out and shut the door behind her. Now that everyone was gone, you could finally focus on the spell. Well, focus as much as you could with Azriel’s shirtless torso gleaming with perspiration. You would think after training in and mastering healing magic, you’d be unfazed by the male body, but Azriel’s stunning beauty was not something you could just get used to. 

It was nearly two in the morning when you heard a soft knock on your door. Your father’s head poked in.

“Sweetheart, you need to take a break.” He said and wiped a bead of sweat from your brow. You hadn’t even realised you were this physically strained. 

“I can’t, dad. Not until he’s healed.” You turned back towards Azriel’s healing wing when your father’s hands enveloped your own, stopping their magic. 

“Dad! He needs-”

“You’re the one who’s going to need healing if you try to continue this spell without taking a break.” His brows furrowed with concern. You knew what he saw, you must have looked a mess. Hair mussed, dark circles under your eyes, and a near permanent wrinkle on your forehead between your brows from holding your deadly focused expression for so long. 

“I know.” You sighed, giving in. “I suppose I could stop for a moment.” He enveloped you in a warm hug that you hadn’t realised you needed until that moment. “I’m just. . . I’m worried about him, dad. He’s always going off on these dangerous quests with the interests of the court being a bigger concern than his own well being.”

“You’re one to talk.” He scoffed. “What was that you said about putting other people’s needs over your own well being?” He brushed a stray lock of hair from your face and then sighed. “That’s my girl, always so selfless and always so stubborn.” He planted a kiss on the top of your head. “You’re a lot like your mother in that way, you know.”

You reluctantly pull away from his arms. “I know, dad.” You rolled your eyes and huffed a sigh, stretching your back, you just realised that standing over Az for so long had really taken its toll on you. “I suppose I could take a shower and change out of this dress.” You were still in your cocktail dress from dinner, you also realised. 

“Yes, please do. I mean this in the gentlest way possible sweetheart, but you stink.” You halfheartedly shove him out of the room. 

“Gee thanks, dad. It’s no wonder how mom fell for that suave charm.” And you shut the door in his face, but not before catching his teasing smile that only he could pull off, somehow managing to look loving and full of himself at the same time. You rolled your eyes before walking into your en suite.

Author’s Note: Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I promise the next one will have more Azriel and a bit more spice. If you wanna be added to the taglist for this fic, you can leave a comment below :)

I do not consent for my work to be reposted or translated on tumblr or any other site, but reblogs are always welcome!

Taglist: @moonchild-cf​ @pansexual-booknerd​ @huffypuffyme​

[bat-losers-inc]

Song of Cassandra: Chapter 2

Warnings: Family Drama, Family Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotional Baggage, and Child Neglect

Summary: What is Batman without a Robin? Everyone in the family makes jokes about the ‘dead robins club’, but Dick and Jason really do have measures set in place for the day Bruce loses sight of what’s really important. They won’t let Bruce sacrifice another Robin for the cause, even if that means separating Robin from Batman for good.

Pairings: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Bruce Wayne, and Dick Grayson & Jason Todd

                            _____________________________________

Half a year later saw them performing a feat of brotherly bonding he’d never imagined possible: robbing Penguin together.

They’d left the Tricorner district behind in a streak of burnt rubber and a barrage of gunfire and ditched the getaway van in Chinatown at the first available 24-hour parking facility on the other side of the bridge. It was slower going on foot, but Chinatown’s busy night scene, combined with the heavy triad presence in this district, would make Penguin’s men hesitate before going in guns blazing. That was all the time they needed to slip away unseen.

Now, as they emerged from the darkness of the parking deck, Dick yanked the balaclava off his head. He grunted something unintelligible as he shouldered his way through the cluster of pedestrians that crowded the sidewalk.

“What?” asked Jason, pulling his own half-mask down from around his neck and jogging to catch up.

“I said, you’re a real bastard. You promised me this was would be easy!”

Jason glanced at him. He wanted to be sympathetic but he just couldn’t when Dick was glaring at him with that staticky mop of hair. He couldn’t keep the laughter out of his voice when he replied, “You’re the one who said we shouldn’t leave a paper trail! This is about as easy as stealing from Penguin’s bagman gets.”

In truth, he thought they were complaining just for the sake of complaining. After six months they both knew that pulling off this heist was less a matter of choice and more a matter of necessity. Failure meant returning to the storage locker Dick had procured outside of Port Adams and staring down their measly little bat-trust-fund: six safehouses, fifteen rolls of Kevlar fabric, a small arsenal, twenty-seven contacts typed into a Word document, and $5,025 split five ways. But what use would kevlar suits be if their siblings couldn’t afford to keep a roof over their heads? No, without the cash it was worth fuck-all.

Dick looked like he wanted to argue the point further but at that moment a convoy of police vehicles shot past them, sirens wailing and horns blaring loud enough to deafen a person. No doubt by now Penguin’s men had informed their boss about the botched exchange and pinned the blame on their nearest rivals, the Ghost Dragons. If that was the case, then Chinatown was a powder keg ready to explode into a minor gang war at any moment.

A flash of light reflected off the windows of a nearby apartment building. Jason stepped in between two parked cars to get a better look and found himself staring up at the cloud-heavy night sky illuminated in the glow of the bat signal.

He gripped the heavy duffel bag full of stolen cash closer to his chest like he expected Gotham’s dark knight to swoop down at any moment and tear it from his shoulder.

“Hey,” Dick tugged at his arm. “time to go.”

Batman was on the way and like the best of Gotham’s criminals, Jason and Dick made themselves scarce.

It took nearly forty minutes and three subway lines to make their way back to the self-storage facility. By then a pale glow had crept up from the horizon and spread across the water. Around them, the street lights began to shut off one after another. In the distance, Jason could just make out a tugboat as it pushed a barge out towards the open ocean.

By the time Dick pulled the storage locker door down behind them, they were tired-eyed and footsore.

Jason threw the duffel bag onto a table and propped himself against it as he fished one-handed under his t-shirt to undo the straps of his protective vest. He sighed in relief as the weight lifted off his shoulders. “How the hell did you stand wearing these things when you were on the force? Even with the undershirt, the chaffing is god-awful.”

“You get used to it,” Dick replied, making quick work of removing his own gear.

Jason doubted it but he was too tired to argue his point further. Instead, he found the six-pack that he’d stashed under the table earlier that day and snapped off a can.

“Heads up,” he called, as he pitched a can underhand to Dick who caught it against his chest.

Dick held it up for inspection. “Warm beer. What I’ve always wanted.”

“Oh shut up and celebrate with me, you asshole.”

He extended his arm across the table. Dick knocked beer cans with him and completely failed at hiding the shy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, though god bless him he tried. “Cheers.”

Jason watched him crack open the top and chuckled as he hurriedly slurped at the foam that erupted over the rim. He knew that this morally gray lifestyle didn’t come easy to Dick but he couldn’t deny that he was happy he had stuck around with him for this long. He didn’t dare to say it out loud, but they actually made good partners.

He took a long drink from his own beer can before putting it aside. “Ok, come on. The faster we count this cash the sooner we can go to bed.”

Jason upturned the duffel bags, sending stacks of cash sliding out onto the metal tabletop while Dick pulled the banknote counter from the corner and lugged the machine up next to the pile. Together they started slipping the currency bands loose and feeding the stacks of cash into the machine, watching eagerly as the sum continued to tick upwards.

“Soo…” Jason drummed his thumbs on the table as the numbers continued to flash on the small screen, “How are things going with you and Babs?”

“What?” Dick’s eyebrows drew together. “Why?”

Jason shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m a little curious about what she thinks you do when you’re out late all the time… also, I’m bored.”

“You’re weird, is what you are.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Seriously? We’ve only spent the past six months together moonlighting as vigilante survivalists and I can’t ask one time how your love life is going.”

“No, no. Sorry, you’re right.” Dick held up a hand. “I told her I’ve been helping you out with an undercover case for a couple of months now. Said I owed you a favor.”

Jason grinned at him. “Well, that’s not a lie. Quite a few actually, but who’s counting.”

Dick punched him in the shoulder. “Actually, I should call her. Reassure her you didn’t get me killed before she calls in a search party.”

Jason chuckled and went back to the task of feeding bills into the machine as Dick rummaged through the backpack and fished out his phone.

“Hey, uhh...”

Jason glanced up and took in Dick’s furrowed expression as he stared down at his phone. He put down the stack of cash he was holding. “What’s the matter?”

“Something happened while we were out. I — shit I don’t know how to explain it but I’ve got like 15 missed messages from Barbara and Alfred. Did you bring your phone with you?”

Jason grabbed his backpack where his own phone was stashed and opened it to find a similar mass of missed calls and incoherently excited messages cluttering the screen. Some of the numbers he recognized, Steph, Barbara, and Alfred were all saved in his phone, but a few were from unknown senders. If he had to venture some guesses he’d say Cass, Duke… maybe Harper? Fuck, he never realized this many bat brats had his number. “I don’t get it… something about Tim? What about hell?”

“I’m calling Babs.”

Jason was aware of how uncomfortably loud their breathing sounded in the small storage locker as they stood around the table waiting for Dick’s call to connect.

“Dick?” Barbara’s voice asked loudly through the speaker. “Thank God! Where have you been? I’ve been calling and calling you.”

“Sorry, undercover mission, remember? What’s the big emergency? I didn’t get anything from Bruce.”

“You need to get back to the manor. Bruce found Tim!”

That didn’t make any sense. “What? You mean Bruce found Tim’s remains?”

Jason smacked his arm. “His remains? Are you fucking serious? What remains could Bruce possibly find after a death like that?”

“I don’t know, bone fragments—”

Dick’s argument sounded flimsy the moment it left his mouth and they both knew it. Jason just really hated to be the one who had to say it.

“If the heat from that explosion didn’t finish him off entirely then the pounding impact of like a hundred thousand missiles definitely did in whatever remains might have been left.”

“Guys—” called Babs.

“Oh, so you’re a forensic scientist now? You don’t know that—“

“Yes, I do!” He slammed a hand down on the table, his anger flaring. He really couldn’t do this backslide back into denial with Dick again. “There’s a reason we buried an empty box. Tim is literally dust in the wind.”

“Jesus Christ!” Barbara’s voice erupted loudly through the speakerphone. “Kill it with the broody back and forth already and actually listen to me, would you? I’m not talking about bone fragments or anything like that. I’m saying Bruce found Tim. Tim! He’s alive.”

Jason met Dick’s eyes over the phone, confusion written as starkly across Dick’s face as it must have been on his own. “What? I— What?”

“I really don’t understand it all myself. But Tim said he’s been held captive by Mr. Oz in another dimension for this whole time. Can you believe it? All this time we thought he was dead and...”

Jason didn’t catch that last bit. He was too busy bent over the table as all the blood rushed to his head.

He was gonna hurl. “That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

They’d all given up on the hope of Tim miraculously surviving a long time ago and this sudden news felt like he was experiencing emotional whiplash. This had to be some kind of sick joke or a trick... a doppelganger sent by the newest enemy on the rise against Batman.

Dick’s thoughts were apparently spiraling in the same direction as his own for he ran a hand roughly across his mouth and asked, “You saw him yourself? You’re sure it’s him, our Tim?”

But it wasn’t a big cosmic joke. As much as Jason couldn’t believe it, it wasn’t and that was made clear with every new piece of information Babs gave them.

“Yes, he was standing right in front of me only an hour ago — crying and hugging everyone.”

Dick turned to look at Jason, but he was already rounding the table and yanking Dick into a bruising hug.

“He’s alive,” Dick cried into the shoulder of his t-shirt. His voice overflowed with the most contagiously hysterical mixture of joy. Jason laughed through his own tears. “You bet your ass he is!”

He couldn’t explain what had come over him. He and Dick had never really been close — and they definitely weren’t huggers — but the last few months had been so full of this gnawing air of anxiety — their family continuing to fracture, the resources running dry — that the full realization was starting to hit them that this plan might have been formed too late to do any real good. They could feel the clock running out and they were both expecting the other shoe to drop any day now but then out of the blue… this.

Dick pushed away from him suddenly and wiped at his eyes.

“Uh…” he tried to clear his throat. “We, uh, we should get back to the cave and go see him for ourselves. Babs, he still there, right?”

“Yeah, Bruce is debriefing him.”

And just like that, Jason’s joy seized painfully in his chest. It hurt the way a seatbelt does in a car crash, knocking the air out of your lungs and bringing you up short. He watched Dick rush around him, grabbing up his belongings in a disorganized fashion.

“Dick, I can’t come with you.”

“What?” Dick asked, breathless. He turned back from the door. “Yes, you can. C’mon, get your stuff, the money can wait till tomorrow.”

Jason shook his head. Fuck, how the hell was he supposed to explain this to him without looking like the one asshole member of this family who didn’t want to visit his little brother recently brought back from the dead.

Dick paused, his hand dropping from the door handle. “What? Because of what happened between you and Bruce?”

I was a fool for ever believing in you. Even now Bruce’s words lingered at the back of his head. An invisible brand that still held its heat.

“Jason, I know what went down between you and Bruce was… heavy, to say the least, but you’re still family. You do know that, right? You’re still my family and if you want to see Tim, Bruce can do fuck-all to stop it. I’ll make sure of it.”

Jason could only huff a sad laugh at that because God did he want to believe that too, but he knew it wasn’t that simple. Tim would always be his family, but Bruce… he’d crossed a point of no return with Bruce on the night that the fortress was destroyed. The violence of his assault had done more than break a few bones— it had finally shattered that last shred of trust he’d stupidly harbored in him that when push came to shove Bruce would value the son over the soldier. I broke his rules for the last time and now he sees me as nothing more than an unredeemable criminal that escaped Batman’s justice. One of his little soldiers gone AWOL.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just… I can’t face him yet— I—” he trailed off. He’d been laying low since his return to Gotham, but even still Jason thought the only reason he’d survived this long was because Bruce was too consumed with Tim’s death to spend a spare thought on him. He wasn’t ready to walk into that cave tonight and find out what would happen now that Tim was back in the picture and Bruce’s anger focused back on him.

It felt like a horrible selfish thing to think about saving his own skin when his little brother had come back from the dead, but as his eyes lingered at the collection of items piled around the storage locker he was reminded that no one was going to do it for him. After all, that was how this plan had all started right? Someone had to be the one to craft the safety net for the next Robin to fall of Batman’s mighty pedestal.

“You should go. Tell Tim I’m glad he inherited my cockroach-like ability to not stay dead.”

“Jason…” Dick twisted the jacket he held in his hands.

“Go.” It came out sharper than he’d intended, despite his best efforts to push his emotions down. He was quick to try to smooth it over with a tight smile that he knew fooled neither of them. “I’ll stop by his apartment tomorrow once all the hype has died down. Besides, someone needs to finish up here.”

He nodded at the banknote counter.

The one thing he’d always valued about Dick, more than his caring nature, was that he knew when to stop pushing an issue.

“Alright,” Dick shifted his grip on his jacket again. His phone was chiming once more in the back pocket of his jeans. No doubt another family member asking where he was. “I’ll call you tomorrow to check in.”

“Sure.”

After the door to the storage locker fell shut, Jason let his gaze travel around the room again. So Tim was back, alive and well as far as any of them were concerned. A nagging part of Jason’s mind wondered worriedly if gaining him back would slowly undo all the plans they had made together. Would Dick continue to worry about the next crisis to befall their little family or would Tim’s return renew his neverending faith in the impossible until he eventually forgot what it was that drove him to his breaking point?

Jason picked up another stack of banknotes and slid it into the machine. As the numbers continued to rise once more he did his best to prepare himself for the idea that he would be alone in this mission once more. Another bitter pill to swallow but he couldn’t do it. It lodged itself raw and unpleasant at the back of his throat.

[flappingdragon200]

Nozel Silva: The Demons' Vampire

A/N: This turned out to be a one chapter story instead of a one shot headcanon lol. Anyways, enjoy!!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Honestly, this wasn't how he imagined himself to be in the future. Biting someone's neck, and sucking it until the human vesicle was nothing but rotten black flesh and bones, turning into black ash. He himself was surprised (again) as when he woke up next week's morning, having the thirst for blood. It sickened him to his bottom-dwelling rotten core.

How the hell did this even get this far... Nozel thought as he grabbed a fist full of his silver hair and pulled harshly, too tired to care about the pain, then massaging where he pulled at.

He still remembers the day he killed his first victim. It was disgusting, but satisfying, as he put it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was cold. The moon shined down on the Clover Kingdom. The wind was chilly as it danced in the air. On the streets, citizens walking about. And a royal who laid in his soft queen-sized bed, sleeping soundly, shallow breaths could be heard from his slumber. But something was off. Very off.

He woke up, feeling hungry, and angry. He threw the covers off him and marched out his room door slowly. (As it was still night outside and he was feeling tired.)

He quietly walked down the halls, of Solid's and Nebra's rooms, not wanting to wake them up. (Solid is a light sleeper and if he is disturbed he will go on full rage mode and destroy shit, which will then alert Nebra and she will start wreaking havoc as well.)

When Nozel was finally passed their rooms he began to speed walk over to the ginormous kitchen that they had.

Once he was in the kitchen, he opened the large ass fridge they had and looked for at least a snack or just something to satisfy his hunger until breakfast. His stomach growled so he quickly grabbed an apple that was saved for dessert today after dinner. But did he care? Nope. He was hungry.

Nozel walked into the living room where he would normally read his book in the morning. (One of those fantasy Novels as Yami puts it lol. Many chapters tho.) He sat down on his favorite spot and started to eat the apple while thinking of what he has to do today.

I have paperwork to do today so I'll get that done first... Then I have a business meeting at 3... Then I train solid at 6PM... Maybe I'll take short breaks here and there to ease my mind? I don't kn-

Shank!

Nozel's eyes widened a little startled at the sound. As he was taking another bite of his apple, he felt his teeth sink into it further than they were earlier. The apple turned to back and faded away as it turned to ash in his hands. It felt as if his teeth just rapidly grew into sharp pointy fangs.

Nozel sat there in silence. He had no idea what had just happened. It happened so quickly he didn't have time to react. He slowly got up from his seat and went to the bathroom in pure horror.

He got to the bathroom and turned on the lights, turned to the mirror, and almost screamed in pure shock, but instead the air was knocked out of him after he had seen his disturbing reflection.

His eyes were bloodshot, black soon closing in from the ends of his eyes. Sharp teeth, or known as fangs hung from his mouth, while large amounts of drool dripped down from his open wide mouth. His skin turned into white, not how it was earlier, almost looking like a ghost in human form.

Nozel backed up afraid. He was scared of himself. His eyes traveled all over his face in search of a prank. He pinched himslef to see if it was a dream. No. This wasn't fake, this was real. His eyes were pitch black his pupils were grey-ish white, looking like a monsters' eyes, and his stomach growled louder. He was growing hungry by the second. He didn't know what to do.

Nozel got up as he recalled the memory. The way he stalked the girl walking down the hallway and into her servant bedroom. How he waited for it to be silent to enter. How he walked closer to her and sank his fangs into her neck. The way she screamed, killed him in the inside. He regrets everything he's done.

Nozel looks out his balcony window and the sun is starting to rise, which means it's almost 6 o'clock. Nozel sighed as he walked to the bathroom and turned on the lights.

He opened up the cabinet underneath the sink and got a single blood packet out and sank his fangs into it letting them suck all of the red liquid out of the bag. His nose scrunched up in bitter disgust. And he snarled as he felt himself replenish his energy. He hated himself. He hated who he became, who he is. He hates his existence entirely.

He wishes he could go back to normal. But when one makes a deal with the devil... They don't go without being unharmed.

He remembers when he saw the face of the warlock that had cursed him 2 weeks ago. His face was soft, his skin was pale, like his. A smile on his face. His height, towering over him. A calming yet destructive aura. His smooth, shiny short black hair. His cold and warm red and pink eyes. The peacefulness that lied in his voice.

Nozel would be lying if he said he didn't have a small tiny crush on the taller male. He may deny it but he knows he does. A small pink hue made it's way and sat onto his cheeks as he thought of the warlock. He remembers the words he said to him, the first time hearing his calming voice.

"I can see that you are struggling in magic power and strength. Let me help you get stronger. How about we make a deal..."

The first mistake was even looking at him. The second, accepting the proposal. And third... Making a deal with The Devil. He knew he should have put more caution and thought into it. But it was something about his presence that made his body react sooner than his mind ever could. Now he knows to be more careful when approaching someone new and untrustworthy. He'll make sure he thinks twice before approaching.

By now after reciting all the memories from just 2 weeks ago he was almost done getting dressed. All he needed to do was put in his cloak and wrap his satchel around his waist with his grimoire inside. (after that)

Nozel walked to a desk with a fairly large mirror and hair products and along with a few hair brushes and combs. Nozel picked up the brush and started to untangle all the knots that were in his hair from a night's rest.

The pain of the de-tangling reminded him of his training with the warlock. How many times he fell onto his knees when sparing with him. The times where he was forced into doing chores for stamina and muscle. And the times he trained his magic to form into water, and steel. After his training was done he was 10x more stronger than he was before he met the warlock. He's pissed that he had listened to every command the warlock threw at him. He hated that he was bossed around by a demon, in disguise.

Nozel grit his teeth in annoyance and hatred. But the pull of a knot pulled him out of self-agony. He remembered what he was doing now.

A few minutes of wrestling with his hair he finally had gotten rid of the knots and tangles. He ran his fingers through the shiny and silky smooth like hair and thought of how he touched it. How he brushed it. How he braided it. How he took care of it. (Talking about the warlock when I say "he")

Nozel stopped and shook his head slightly to bring him out of thought and continue to style his hair.

He picked up the gel from a near corner of the desk and opened it to apply it to his resting sides of hair so that the strands won't get in his eyes and so it's off of his shoulders. After finishing, he placed the gel back in it's original spot and opened a drawer with a small box inside it.

The box was decorated with a small black ribbon at the top formed in a lightly tied bow. The box was a gold yellow color with darker lines of gold running across covered in a small amount of silver and gold glitter, with smaller black lines outlining the bigger stripes. And then there was a note beside it that said,

"It's a spare. Use it when you can't find your other one. Take care love." - Nivira.

Nozel felt a small smile form on his lips as he picked up the box.

Nivira was his best friend since childhood and before he met Fuegoleon. She stayed by his side and protected him, stood up for him, and encouraged him. She was the best friend he had ever had. That was until... She was dragged away from her home by her parents and sold as a servant for some higher group of nobles. But after a long time of trying to find her, Nozel found her in a dark ally way shortcut all bruised up and heavily wounded with obvious broken bones. So he brought her back to his estate and treated her wounds until she was back in shape again.

She has dedicated her life to him and will never leave his side again. It was like he had a personal bodyguard. Nivira might say that she's only staying by his side because he needs protection in this dark and cruel world, but deep down Nozel knows that she's scared that she might get sold again or something worse. So he started to train her and invited her to stay at House Silva as long as she wants and that she's always welcomed here.

Nozel closed his eyes as he imagines what she looked like. Blue hair with a bit of black dye at the top. A toothy grin on her face. Lightly tanned skin. Greenish blueish eyes. Her small form standing 5.1 in front of him. Her nails painted black and grey. And her enormous energy, fighting spirit, and childish behavior. He loved her the way she was. She brought the light to him when the darkness was threatening to swallow him whole.

He's grateful for her. And she's grateful for him.

Nozel pulled the lightly tied bow and it came undone. He opened the lid to the box and there he saw, A blue Silva pendant in the middle of black foam. It was made out of the most hardest metal the both of them could find. He placed the box onto the desk and started to braid his bangs. After he was done he took the pendant carefully in between his fingers and pinned it to the tip of the braid.

He looked into the mirror and smiled, Perfect.  He thought.

He stood up and put the box back in the drawer and closed it tight.

But happy times always end. And that's when it hit him. The realization that he forgot he's having breakfast with his siblings at 7:45. He looked over to the clock and it said 6:37.

I still have maybe an hour or more to spare... Nozel thought and opened the door and closed it silently when he walked out of his room making sure not to disturb any servants that are still sleeping. (Servants get up at 7 o'clock)

He walked down the hallways of the estate quickly and quietly not wanting to get caught. Instead of going to the entrance of the estate he went to the back where the garden is. He can sneak out of there through the yard and exit the palace without getting noticed (hopefully). It was a perfect plan.

He came to the door that lead to the huge garden the maids took care of. He opened the door and he saw a dim light on the ground, meaning the sun was rising, quickly. He closed the door and started to speed walk, hoping that no one will notice. (Btw the garden is so huge that it ends near the capitol main roads. There's a dirt path showing the way to the main roads of the capitol.)

After a few minutes of speed walking he could see the exit to the garden. Just barely out of reach.  He started to sweat Immensely knowing that anyone could catch him sneaking off. But... Just... One... More... Step...

He sighed as he reached the exit and wiped the sweat off his face. He opened his eyes and saw the sun-lit dirt path that lead to the royal capital's main roads where all sorts of people would be but not at this hour. He walked towards the dirt path and began the walk to the capitol.

-In The Capitol-

Nozel walked out of his favorite coffee shop with a cup of coffee in his hands. He slowly sipped on it as he was walking down the streets. Not many people were out at this time of day. But the people that were, whispered and looked at him oddly.

"What's lord Nozel doing out this early? Could he be running errands for his squad?" A noble male whispered to his friend beside him.

"No. I'm guessing he's just out doing his normal thing. See the coffee in his hands? That's how I know." His friend whispered back.

Nozel closed his eyes a bit and sighed quietly. This was one of those many times that he wished he was a commoner so he can get by just a single day without someone whispering about him or looking at him with a cautious look everywhere he went. He didn't feel safe no matter where he went. And he always had to keep calm and keep a good reputation, as to just one tiny slip up could be his down fall. For good.

He took his last sip of his coffee and through the empty cup in the trash can on one of the streets. He just now noticed that not many shops are open. Many have gone out of business from lack of funding or lack of management. Some of them even have been removed for higher class family businesses. A sum of them are also being remodeled so they are closed momentarily. A few of the shops he shopped at were either closed, or remodeling.

As he was walking down a street going to his destination he saw something, someone... Familiar... He took a closer look and recognised that short black hair shining in the sun, and the smoothness that makes you want to run your fingers through it. Nozel's eyes widen with shock and his nose scrunches up in hatred. His teeth grit in pain from the memories of the past.

He notices that the man turns around and walks towards him. He's only 1 foot away from him. The man leans into his ear and says,

"Oh How Is My Little Vampire Doing?"

End.

.

.

.

.

.

For: @mrnozzlesilversimp

After a long time I have finished the story inspired by you art :,) thank you.

Also @thespiralgrimoire

@shinyshammie

@vermillionflames

@thoughtfullyrainynightmare

I come baring gifts for you? I would also like your opinion on it as well. I need to improve more. Thank you. 🙏💖

[joaquinwhorres]

Corinne has a close call with danger and Gideon becomes overly overprotective which confuses/angers Corinne, provoking an unexpected confession from Gideon about how he feels towards her. He sort of blurts it out.

Honestly I think you have like a window into my drafts or something, because even though this drabble took like 50 years to come out, your request is actually something I'd already been toying with as a potential part of the story. Also this may not be what you meant when you said "danger" buuuuuuuut here we are.

Corinne stepped out of the cramped and musty shop, tucking her purchases into her bag before proceeding down the dark and winding street. Despite the fact that she had spent a good portion of her childhood walking this alley, hand clasped in her mother's, she never felt fully at ease here. Perhaps it was the fact that her mother had always urged her to Marche plus vite! along these uneven and jagged cobblestones or her more acute awareness of the kind of things and people involved in business transactions here. Either way, there was a distinct briskness to her step, a purpose that propelled her back towards Diagon Alley.

"Corinne Berenger?"

While the tinge of fake surprise lacing his words might have been believable coming from someone else, instead the way he said her name felt almost like a taunt, a tease...a dare. As if he was certain she'd just continue on her way instead of turning around to face another person she'd been happy to leave behind at Hogwarts.

Corinne turned around slowly, an obviously insincere smile already pulling the corners of her mouth taut. "Mulciber."

He was smirking back at her, walking towards her shoulder to shoulder with a man who looked closer in age to Bellatrix than either of them.

"What are you doing in Knockturn Alley?" Mulciber asked, a sharp dark eyebrow raised at her.

"What you should be doing and minding my own business," Corinne responded, her voice light even as her eyes narrowed at him.

His smirk widened, shifting into an unpleasant smile as if she'd just told him a joke. He looked over to the man standing next to him conspiratorially. "She always did have a bite."

"As all serpents should." The man's voice was low and breathy, reminiscent almost of a hiss.

Despite the prickling feeling climbing up the back of Corinne's neck from the way his dark eyes seemed to stare into her, she rolled her eyes.

"Have you met, Antonin Dolohov before? He's done some...business with your father."

This seemed to pique the interest of Dolohov whose gaze took on a more appraising quality. "You're Lycus Berenger's girl?"

"Lycus Berenger is my father. I'm my own," Corinne retorted, her voice turning sharp.

Dolohov smiled indulgently. "These are times you wouldn't want to find yourself on your own in," he said. "A good lineage and pretty face aren't enough anymore."

"Speaking from experience, Dolohov?"

Corinne closed her eyes, breathing an exasperated breath out through her nose. Of course.

Gideon Prewett strode up behind Dolohov and Mulciber, jaw set and eyes blazing. He circled the two, coming to stand next to Corinne who had half a mind to take this as her cue to just turn around and leave. But if she left Gideon here with these two, they would kill him. And nobody in Knockturn Alley would even blink an eye.

"Lost, Prewett?" Mulciber asked, his voice acidic. "Blood traitors don't belong back here."

Corinne watched as Gideon's shoulders tensed, his hand dipping into his pocket.

"Unfortunately, this one does," Corinne said, smoothly. "He's on a court errand."

"Oh," a grin overtook Mulciber's face again, making Corinne's gut twist. "Lucius mentioned you worked with one of the Prewett boys. I didn't realize you two were friendly, though."

"We're not," she said with a roll of her eyes. "He's nosy and thought he saw a chance at being noble, and I'm not about to explain to my boss how sending us on a simple retrieval task ended up with my co-worker dead."

Mulciber looked between Corinne with her arms folded and a bored look on her face, and Gideon who was glaring darkly at him, hand still in his pocket. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"You should be careful of the company you keep. Even if you are just coworkers, people may get the wrong idea of where your loyalties lie."

"My loyalties lie with myself. Not every Slytherin wants to be banded or branded property," she said coolly, her eyes drifting to the bit of red ink peeking out from under his sleeve.

Dolohov stepped forward in the next instant, and it took everything in Corinne for her to stay where she was and straighten her spine. Next to her Gideon stepped closer, his wand now out. Mulciber's was too, pointing straight at Gideon. "You would do well to learn the difference between a bite and a lack of respect," Dolohov hissed. "If you're not careful you could find yourself in more trouble than you're prepared for."

Mulciber sidled up to Dolohov's side, his wand still lazily pointed at Gideon. "I could teach her a thing or two about respect. Help her realized why it's better to be banded to our side," he drawled, his eyes lingering on Corinne as her lip curled in disgust "I may even get her to beg me for the lesson again."

Before she could so much as open her mouth to tell him that the only thing she'd beg for right now as for him to shut the fuck up, Gideon pushed himself in front of her, wand raised to Mulciber's throat. "If you touch her, it'll be the last thing you do," he snarled.

Mulciber smirked, his eyes narrowing at the red head. "You wouldn't even be able to mutter the spell before I--"

A flash of orange light zipped out of Gideon's wand as Mulciber dropped his and clutched at his face. The skin there began to puff up, as if it were boiling under the surface, swelling and reddening until he was barely recognizable under the huge welts.

Indigo light erupted from Dolohov's wand which Gideon waved away, causing a nearby jar of various creatures' eyeballs to shatter.

Next to them, a shop door flew open, banging against the front of the building. "HEY," the old witch shouted, her voice gravelly but strong as she towered within her door frame. Her hair was a wild main of grey curls, and while she had one lazy eye, the other looked so shrewdly at the four of them, Corinne was certain the witch could dispatch of each of them quite readily.

"Not in front of my shop," she growled, pointing with her wand down the alley. "Take it down to Eustace Crotchett's place."

Dolohov and Gideon both carefully lowered their wands, eyes on the other's movements, as they returned to their respective companions. Dolohov's eyes landed on Corinne with a vehemence she did not care for nor deserve.

"You may be under the Black Family's protection but there's only so much that even they can protect you from protect you from, Miss Berenger," he spat, takin hold of Mulciber's upper arm and turning to go back the way they came.

The witch at the door nodded, and let the door to her shop slam closed.

Gideon turned to Corinne. "Are you alright?"

Corinne let a frustrated sigh and spun on her heel, heading as quickly as she dared to Diagon Alley. Behind her, Gideon's quick and heavy footsteps thumped against the pavement.

"I'll take that as a yes, although a thank you might also be nice," he said, falling into step with her. Her head whipped towards him as she glared at him.

"I'll thank you when Gringotts starts handing out free Galleons," she snapped, turning the corner. Gideon still followed.

"What are you even doing back here on your own?" he asked.

"I'm a fully competent witch, and I can shop where I please," Corinne answered, dodging a drunk wizard stumbling from the pub at two in the afternoon. "Besides, if either one of us is out of place it's you. What could you possibly be doing in Knockturn Alley?"

"It doesn't matter," Gideon dismissed, and Corinne set her jaw. "I don't have a tendency to stumble into dangerous situations."

"No, you dive in headlong or create them," Corinne sniped with a sweet and altogether false smile.

"Create them?" She could hear the tension in his voice now, the frustration boiling up, and she felt oddly satisfied with herself.

"I said what I said." Corinne stopped just inside of the tunneling arch-way that led to Diagon Alley. She spun to face him, crossing her arms. "I had everything under control until you shoved yourself in."

Gideon scoffed. "Under control. It certainly seemed like you had everything under control while they were threatening you."

"People like them always threaten people they can't control," Corinne waved off with a hand. "But it doesn't change the fact that you had no right to involve yourself in that situation. It didn't concern you."

"What you expected me to just walk on by and ignore the way he was looking at you while he spoke to you like that?"

"Yes!" Corinne, yelled. "That's exactly what I expected, because it's exactly what you should have done. I don't understand your incessant need to insert yourself into my business."

"It's because I care about you!" Gideon shouted before catching himself and shaking his head. "I care about you a lot," he said in a slightly calmer voice. "More than a co-worker should. More than even friends should."

"That still doesn't give you an excuse for being an overprotective asshole," Corinne shot back.

"I'm not making excuses! I--" Gideon cut himself off, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm trying to tell you something here, Corinne."

"You're telling me you care about me; I heard you. But I care about you too, and you didn't see making an ass out of myself over it. I was going to get us both out of there in one piece, before you went and tried to muck it all up."

He didn't say anything, instead staring at her with his brow slightly furrowed.

"What?" she snapped.

"We're just blowing past the fact that we both admitted that we care about each other?" he asked.

Corinne shrugged, folding her arms across her chest somewhat indignantly. "I planned to circle back after you apologized."

Gideon sighed, stepping closer to her. "I'm sorry if I overreacted," he apologized, his voice lower and slower than it had been.

Corinne sniffed. "You did."

"And I'm sorry I made you feel disrespected--like I didn't trust you to handle the situation."

The apology seemed genuine perhaps because he had not apologized for his actions at all, only their affects. It was rather obvious that he was not sorry for intervening at all, and she had to admit she rather admired the way he navigated the apology. It was quite Slytherin of him.

"I accept your apology," Corinne nodded curtly, and Gideon nodded back, his eyes never leaving hers. A tense quiet settled over the two of them as they stared at each other in the dimly lit archway, the bright light of Diagon Alley shining through the archway to fall across Gideon's face, illuminating his bright green eyes. She doubted the lanterns behind Gideon in Knockturn Alley did much to light up her features.

Gideon wet his lips, finally finding his voice again. "Circling back?"

"Yes, of course," Corinne nodded, taking the two quick steps over to him before claiming his lips as her own, pressing a searing kiss to them.

[smol-and-grumpy]

Something Just Like This - CH05

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: Angst, doubt, sadness a little. But also fucking fluff.

WC: 3575

SERIES MASTERLIST

“Winchester! You got a cigarette?” Milligan’s voice was clear in his ear. “Please, I need one.”

“No, man.” Dean shook his head. “But hold on, Milligan. You’re going to be alright. We will get you out of here.”

    *

Dean blinks. 

He’s back. 

He’s still driving. A single tear streaks down his face and he jerks himself more awake from his daydream. His hand comes up to brush the tear away from his cheek.

Dean thinks about calling Charlie as he drives towards the bunker. He needs to make a pitstop and clean himself from the dirt of having killed a man, and needs to shower off the guilt. It usually doesn’t work. It never did. But at least there will be no blood of a dead man on any part of him or on his clothes left.

When he kills people, he doesn’t think about them as humans. He can’t let himself go there. Dean can’t say that he enjoys it either though, can’t say that he’s not dying a little on the inside every time he takes out someone. Even if they are the lowest sort of scumbags.

He never could take it lightly. 

Not when he was at war, where killing enemies was demanded from him.

Not now, when he does it to protect his business, his family, his pride.

He’ll never get used to it and honestly, he’d rather not do the dirty work but also he doesn’t want anyone to have to bear the burden. At least not someone he’s close to, like Cas or Sam. Cas did kill people for him, but mostly it was also for Cas himself. But Sam? Nah, Dean would rather die than let Sammy do that kind of dirty work. 

Sometimes, when he’s plagued by subsequent nightmares and has a hard time to even take his mind off them in the times he’s awake, Dean often finds himself asking if this was all worth it. If the life he chose to live was worth the effort, worth the sleepless nights, worth the sacrifices, the blood, the sweat and the tears.

But the answer was always yes . Because Sam’s in it. Because Sam’s gonna open up a law firm. Because Sam’s going to get out of this life. Because Sammy deserves everything good, even if it meant that Dean has to give everything he has in order for Sam to be happy. And Dean is ready to do that for Sammy, always had, always will.

And who knows? Maybe, if Dean’s lucky, his whole plan will work out after all.

He didn’t tell Sam yet — in fact, he didn’t tell anyone about his plan. Dean sometimes wishes for nothing more than to go legal. Maybe go into shipping and trading. Not narcotic substances, not illegal arms. Legal things, like a normal person, a normal business owner of a fucking family business. Do something he doesn’t have to break the law for. It’s just a dream, though. He knows that there’s no escape from reality. Not for someone in his position. Because who would he be then? They’d think that he’s weak. A wimp. A goddamn failure. Nobody walks out of here, especially not after what his father went through to keep the organization going and growing.

Before Dean went to Afghanistan, he actually quite enjoyed the life he had. Fast cars, frisky women, being respected. He had everything. He was cocky and narcissistic back then, thought that he could have it all and so much more. He signed up to be deployed because he thought that he has got something to prove. Proving to himself that nothing could bring him down. Proving to all the others, that he can come back unscattered and reign over them. He thought that once he’s back, people would respect him more because back then, they thought that he would never be able to take over. 

Life changed drastically after a couple of days at COP Keating. He was being the one to get shot at and not the other way around. He was the one to take orders and not the other way around. He didn’t get along with his mates, didn’t want to join in and distanced himself. He never really had any friends because they all thought that he was stuck up. They weren’t really wrong, he guesses. 

Dean never thought he’d get to come back with all his limbs still attached to him — let alone coming back alive.

War changed him. Changed his view of life and he often asked himself what he did it for, sometimes wished that he was the one dead and not his friends. But when he got out of the plane as they arrived back, he saw Sam waiting with a bright smile on his face and waving at him, Dean knew that he did it all for Sam. And yes, it was all worth it. Sam wailed like a baby when the President placed the medal around his neck, which Dean still thinks that he didn’t deserve at all. He just did his duty, really. 

So yeah, this life sucks you in and will spit you out when you’re dead. Sometimes the dead part happens sooner rather than later. You never know. 

Dean knows that he probably — most definitely — can’t win in this life. Maybe in the next. 

He dials Charlie’s number and waits.

Charlie picks up at the second ring. 

“Hey, my favorite Winchester,” She says and Dean smiles at the sound of Charlie’s voice. She’s always so cheerful.

“I bet you say that to Sammy, too.” Dean chuckles lightly.

“Me? Naaaah,” Charlie laughs now, loud and bright.

“I don’t believe you,” 

“Yeah, yeah. You saw it?” She’s changing the subject quickly, knowing that Dean called her up to ask about the things he asked her to pick up for him.

“I haven’t been to the bunker yet. Just wanna ask if you did get it.”

“Got everything. How did you get the shoe size?” 

“Ash,” Dean breathes out.

“Oh my god, I don’t even wanna know,” Charlie groans.

“Nope, I don’t wanna know either.” Dean feels second hand embarrassment when he thinks of it. Knowing Ash, he probably didn’t ask for it smoothly.

“Anyway, it’s in the bunker. Let me know if it fits.”

“I will. Thanks, Charlie.”

“You’re welcome, big guy.”

Dean hangs up and pushes his phone back into his pants pocket. He flips his wrist to be able to look at his watch. It’s not yet 10PM. If he hurries, he could make it there before her shift ends.

       Y/N taps a beer when strong hands grab at her arm and pull her away swiftly, but the pressure on her arm is still gentle, which is weird and she didn’t spill a single drop.

She turns to look who it is, thinks about throwing the beer in the face of whoever thought that pulling her away from her work would be such a good idea when she can club them over the head with a full pint.

Her eyes meet a chest. She looks up from the neat dress shirt, trails her eyes past the scruff, almost freezes at the plump lips that’s widened by a smirk, but she wills herself to go on because she has a great idea who it is. Her eyes meet his green ones and the crinkles around them are deep and — not going to lie —  mesmerizing.

“Hi,” It rumbles from his chest and she could literally feel the bass of his voice vibrating in her bones. It was loud in the bar but she could hear him clearly.

“Hi,” Y/N says, shy all of a sudden. Thinks that she’s blushing, but how could she not.

He leans down, the tip of his nose brushes against her temple and it makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up while goosebumps spread on her arm. “Think you can take a break?”

She looks at the line of people surrounding the bar, shakes her head no,  “I don’t think so,”

Dean chuckles before he produces a bag which he probably had hidden behind his back. Y/N doesn’t know, but she can’t explain how a bag materializes in front of him. “Don’t worry, me and Ash will take over. You go back and see if this is alright.”

“What?”

“You remember the opening party?” He raises an eyebrow, and she sees the doubt in his eyes.

She pretends to think hard, the creases on her forehead deepening. She let the clock tick, thinks of stretching the moment out, just for good measure, before she answers. “Yeah?”

He relaxes, and she thinks it’s funny how she could wind him up.

“It’s in two days. Got you something.”

“You did what? I didn’t even ask Ellen yet if I could get the night off,” Y/N begins to say, because it’s true. She didn’t expect it to be so soon. He just asked her what? Two days ago? And said that they’re still figuring out the date?

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll talk to Ellen.” He’s still holding out the bag for her to take. 

She looks at the people who are still waiting on being served. “But—”

“—Jesus, Y/N, just go, alright? I asked Ash. You can use his room.” He points his chin towards the back door and she sees Ash walking behind the bar too now, with a stupid grin on his face. 

“Oh, okay.” Y/N nods, and places the pint onto the counter top before taking the bag from Dean’s hand. Their fingers brush for a brief moment and there’s a flutter in her chest.

Damn her chest. It has no business to be fluttering right now.

She searches for Dean’s eyes before she goes, as if she needs reassurance. He winks at her as he takes off his suit jacket, folding the sleeves of his dress shirt back. “Go! Trust us. You can take your time.” 

Y/N can already see Ash taking orders before she nods again and slips through the door.

  *

 Y/N closes the door to Ash’s room. Locking it up, just in case. She takes a look around before she drops the bag on the floor and walks over to Ash’s laptop. She can’t make it too obvious, doesn’t want to try to type in a password, fearing Ash has some tracking device on his laptop and would notice someone logging in when he’s not around. 

She opts to take out her phone instead, taking pictures of Ash’s room, especially his desk, and of the many scribbles of loose sheets of paper scattered around. That way she won’t be gone too long too, and she won’t raise any suspicions. It’s not her job to decipher or to dig too deep anyway, they have great people in the bureau. Her job is to deliver new intel while their job is to dig deeper from the bits and pieces she sends them.

After she’s done her other ‘work’, she takes the bag and peeks in. There are two more bags in the big one and she reaches for the first one. She takes it out and smiles when she sees what it is. 

Y/N takes the item out and holds it up in front of her. It’s a red sleeveless couture cocktail dress, with mesh worked into it, a little see through but covered by red flower patterns. She holds it to her chest, and walks to the mirror, lets her hand skim over the fabric. She’s never seen a dress more beautiful and that’s not even a lie.

It’s red. Red. Y/N never wore red. Doesn’t think that red suits her at all. Red is for someone who likes to make a bold statement. Someone who likes to be noticed and seen and if anything, she’s the contrary. In fact, she doesn’t own a piece of clothing in red. She always opted for black, grey, white or navy, something not eye catching. She never felt comfortable being the center of attention.

She smiles to herself through the mirror because she never knew that red would suit her. Nonetheless, she can’t help but wonder how expensive the dress must be. She probably wouldn’t be able to afford it. What the fuck was Dean thinking? She can’t possibly take the dress. Can’t possibly wear it because it’s out of her fucking league. 

There’s a note fluttering to the floor. It probably was laid out on the dress and she missed it as she took it out.

Y/N bends down to pick it up. 

“I hope it fits. I thought red would look great on you. There are some shoes at the bottom of the bag. If you feel confident enough you could let me see? If not, it’s okay too. — Dean”

She bites on her bottom lip before they spread into a grin. 

Y/N shimmies herself out of her jeans and takes off her shirt. The bra too, since it’s see through. She needs to find some nude strapless bra, makes a mental note to go shopping tomorrow before she meets with Linda. 

She’s glad she shaved her legs today, that would have been really embarrassing. Not that she should care. Or should she?

She really doesn’t know but decides not to dwell on that super weird feeling in her guts. Instead, she laughs to herself as she pulls the dress over her head and looks into her mirror image. 

Wow.

She rubs along the dress, flattens it on her body, still mesmerized and amazed at how great and beautiful it feels on her skin. 

It fits her like a glove. How could he know her size? 

She stands on her tiptoes, twists and turns, inspecting herself from every possible angle. 

Shoes. The notes said something about shoes , she thinks and takes a couple of steps to reach into the bag. Y/N pulls out the other bag and opens up the box.

Red heels, the same color as her dress. Not just a similar color. The exact fucking same. 

How?

She places one hand on the desk to keep her balance as she slips into the heels. Her legs feel wobbly in them, she rarely wears heels and these are super high.

Y/N takes a step closer to the mirror, turning herself in front of it. She bites on her bottom lip, suddenly very anxious of wearing it anywhere at all. 

She takes a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. 

In and out. 

In and out.

“Okay,” she sighs, “okay.” 

It’s more a way to reassure herself because Dean asked if he could see it, and a part of her really wants to show him. It's just that the part that doesn’t want to show him really, really needs convincing. 

She closes her eyes, her heart beating fast at the thought of walking out into the bar.

“Here goes nothing,” She murmurs and unlocks the door to Ash’s room.

   Dean’s having a conversation going on with one of the patrons and pours himself another whiskey, laughing when the dude told him something funny. He didn’t even notice that the bar went silent, only notices it when all he could hear is some murmuring and his own laughter next to the usual songs playing in the background from the jukebox, and there’s someone whistling.

He looks around, wondering what’s going on and then he sees it.

He sees her.

Standing by the door, the red dress clings to her frame and Dean’s speechless for a moment. 

The prettiest fucking thing he ever did see. There’s no other way to describe her.

Not that he didn’t think that she wasn’t cute before but Jesus, she’s beautiful and it’s a pity she doesn’t even know how lovely she is.

She looks around, all flustered and shy like a deer caught in the headlight and Dean almost feels guilty for wanting to have a taste of it. Almost feels guilty for wanting to corrupt her, wanting to feel her legs wrap around him, wants to fucking mark her as his, wonders sometimes, if she blushes as sweetly when he eats her out and makes her come on his cock alone.

Someone was yelling from the back, “Hey, baby, you wanna take a ride—”

“—Shut up!” Dean’s deep voice cuts the dude off and he throws in a malicious look, for good measure.

The one guy at the bar is still whistling and then he licks his lips, “Baby, are you a drill sergeant? Because you have my privates standing at attention.”

The bar erupts with laughter and she looks down to her shoes.

Dean didn’t hesitate to drive his fist into the man’s face. He hears a crack, grins because the dude deserved it. 

“Anyone else?” Dean asks and looks around the room before he turns his attention to her.

He walks over, sees her blushing a little, “Come on, let’s go to the back.”

The guy who’s standing next to her opens his mouth to say something. Dean thinks the guy probably has a death wish or way too much to drink because he doesn’t know when to stop, “Those clothes would look great in a crumpled heap on my bedroom floor, baby.”

Dean’s about to strike out when she places her hand on his arm. 

“I got this.” She whispers with a smirk and then she does. Y/N takes a step towards the guy and drives her elbow into the man’s jaw.

The guy drops to the floor, wincing and spitting blood. 

“Anybody else wants to try their pick up line on me?” She asks the now silent bar and Dean has a really hard time to hold back the laugh that wants to burst out of him. 

“No? Good. Because they all suck.” She says and just stands there and waits and Dean thinks she’s ready for anyone who would want to come forward with a stupid remark. When the bar stays silent, she turns around and storms through the door in the back.

Dean only shrugs at the people who were still speechless, before he follows her.

“Winchester’s whipped.” Ash could be heard under his breath before the door closes completely.

“I heard that.” Dean shouts back.

“Good.” Came loudly from the other side, followed by laughter. 

Normally, Dean would go out there and probably rip Ash a new hole but she’s walking swiftly down the corridor and he follows, almost bumping into her when she turns around abruptly to face him, her hands are braced on her hips.

“How much was all this?” Y/N asks, gestures with her hands up and down her body.

“Don’t worry about it.” 

“No, really, Dean. How much? I’ll pay you back.” She says, and Dean knows that she means it. Had known from the start when she wouldn’t even take the tip he wanted to leave for her.

“I don’t know.” Dean says and it’s the truth. 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Her forehead creases. 

“I really don’t know, alright?” Dean chuckles, brushing a hand through the scruff on his jaw. “I just went into the store and told them what I want. They said they needed time to get the right shoes and I had someone pick it up for me. I never asked how much it was, because I didn’t really care!” He runs his hand through his hair.

Dean sees her face softening, there’s even a smirk that’s tugging away at her lips. 

“You actually went into a store for this?” She’s grinning now and Dean thinks it’s fucking adorable.

“Yeah?” 

“You went into a store.” Y/N’s chuckling, “A women’s store. And bought a dress?” 

“Yes?” His eyebrow raises on his forehead.

She laughs. Loud, clear. It’s a beautiful sound.

“Were you embarrassed?”

“Uh,” He’s laughing too, tries to search for the right word, “It was awkward. But it was worth it. You look beautiful, Y/N.”

“Thanks.” Her face flushes, and she quickly turns away. “Alright, I guess it fits. Do I look decent enough for you to take me to the opening like this?”

She walks the couple of steps to Ash’s room, stalling at the door and turns to look back to him.

“I’d take you anywhere, Y/N. Even if you’re dressed in your normal clothes, or a trash bag.” He says truthfully, and now it’s his turn to feel his cheeks heating up. 

He doesn’t know why he said it. Doesn’t really know what’s up with him because he feels like he just poured his heart out to her by saying it. Thinks, that if she knew who he really was, how he really was, she wouldn’t let him take her anywhere at all, and he wouldn’t blame her one bit.

“Not— not saying that you’re a bag of trash or anything,” He squints because he’s an idiot and would love to smash his head against the wall right now. Dean clears his throat, “Alright, I need to go help Ash. You take your time.”

“Alright.” She smiles and takes a step into Ash’s room, stops to look back at him. “Thank you, Dean.”

He nods and smiles back, bright and wide, before he turns around and walks through the door to the front.

CH06

[valorblooded]

“Get down!”

A hail of bullets showered down over their heads as Connor was all but thrown to the floor. An ambush-- as if it could even be called that-- had broke out in one of the more rundown and emptied warehouses. There had been some decently sourced entail of Revara having stored some guns and drugs, and it was right. It just failed to mention the goons had been held up in the joint for days already.

The only thing that could make this better was if the bastard himself had the balls to join his men in the steak-out. The bitter thought made Connor’s mouth dry and the hand holding the fully loaded gun tremble.

The entire plan had been a simple one. Three groups of his men, the first entered from the back, the second from the side entrance, and the third from the catwalk. If there was anyone, they would be the first to react. And they were, because if they weren’t, they would be dead instead of penned in various locations around this abandoned shake.

Drix was yelling, panic rising in his voice as he spouted off orders, left and right, into his walkie-talkie. Keeping their men focused on why they even came here. The men on the catwalk was keeping most of the fire back, penning down the main point of Revara’s men down.

Their barricade of boxed ratty shipment must be filled with heavy metal machinery with how the bullets never made it through it, but bounced off at odd angles with high pitched dings. A hand was put on Drix’s shoulder as Connor returned fire briefly. A man from across the building shouted in pain.

Hunkering back down, Connor spoke into his own walkie-talkie. “Group C, retreat from the rafters. Circle around to the front, and watch your backs.”

To his credit, Drix waited until after Connor released his finger on the device and after another shower of bullets rained down before questioned, “Why the hell did you tell them that? They are keep those bastards from swarming us!”

“Yeah, I know, but they’re spread thin as is. We can surround them instead of cowering.”

“Cowering is keeping our dumbasses ALIVE.”

“Just breathe.”

There was humor in the calm way he handled active stress while his brother was seconds away from having a heart attack. The humor gets lost once the adrenaline leaves his system and he’s sick for a few days but that was later Connor’s problem. With how a bullet got entirely too close, just grazing his side, Connor got the oddest sensation that he’d have to recover from more than just stress. He pressed closer to his brother as the seconds ticked by, the sound of reloading breaking the loud rhythm of bullets' ricocheting wildly.

He felt Drix curl in tighter, trembling and muttering, trying to fight off the panic attack that was already in progress. Can’t blame him for it, since that’s a normal response to the real threat to dying. Connor only gripped him tighter, allowing his masked face to press into his shoulder as he tried to steady his breathing. 

With every deep breath, his hands steadied, until a man appeared on the opposite side of the boxes. At Drix’s back. Time slowed nearly completely in that moment. Too slow to swallow past the lump but fast enough to feel every gnaw of fear on his spine as he reacted faster than his mind could keep up. The click of the emptied chamber was the only thing that brought him back to the present.

The man was on the ground, he couldn’t even count the bullet holes that entered him, or the spray on the wall behind him. Drix was speaking from under him, high pitched, words running into each other that Connor only caught the tail end of it when Drix pressed his hand into shoulder and pulled it away, showing red dripping down his black gloved hand.

It certainly wasn’t the first time he got shot, and it wouldn’t be the last, he couldn’t even feel it, far too numb from the shock. Another hail of gunshots made them duck down lower. It was further away, and for a half second, Connor worried he was losing blood a bit too quickly, but the sound of the opposing men yelling, “Behind us! Turn aroun--” with many of the words being cut short with another volley of bullets.

“For fuck’s sake! Took them long enough,” Drix breathed out in shakily, keeping pressure on the fresh wound. Connor reloaded his gun.

“Its a big building, it’ll take a minute to walk around,” The snap of the clip felt grounding, as another deep breath was taken when he moved to aim and fire his gun with far more purpose than just protecting and surviving. The goons fell in waves with no where to hide.

Once the returning fire failed to sound off, a much needed breath of relief reverberated throughout the warehouse. Connor was the first to stand, with Drix keeping an iron clamp grip on his shoulder. Looking over the place, the damage was a tad extensive, bullet holes littered the walls, and the windows had been blasted out. With all that fire, even if the fight lasted shorter than ten minutes, they had to move quick. He could nearly hear the sirens on the wind.

Connor barked out orders, anyone injured immediately get removed while those capable spread out and look for what they came for. Which was unfortunate since he was also shoved outside as soon as he gave the command, and had to get the good news of the shipment being found from the back of a truck with a medic digging for the bullet.

“Pack it up so we can get the fuck out of here. Good work.” Drix replied when Connor didn’t, his ceramic mask not missing the stiffening as the numbness gave way to stark pain of having to look for a bullet in the dark. Moments later, a small metal shell was dropped into a plastic bag, and he was bandaged.

Meanwhile, crates upon crates were being pulled from the warehouse. They had enough trucks for it, they knew exactly how many that they wanted. It was satisfying watching the trucks get filled so efficiently.  

What wasn’t satisfying was being shoved between his nagging brother and equally nagging medic into the back of the truck. 

“What the hell is wrong with you? We had a plan, we follow the plan! What would’ve happened if you missed your shot, or if there were more than one of them, huh?”

“I’d get shot. More shot.” The reply earned him a smack on the back of his neck, a small price for smartassery.

“Sir, I am trained in emergency medicine. Not resurrection. Please take your Consigliere’s words to heart.” Josey, the medic, added in her two cents. She busied herself with rearranging the items in her medkit. Connor chose not to think about how often the thing gets opened for his behalf. Instead, he focused on the fatigue, the energy seeping from his limbs with every tired exhale. He wanted nothing more than to throw his helmet out of the window so he can breathe.

“Yeah, yeah , I get it. Consider it locked away in memory. We have a plan, we follow the plan, we get into a gun fight that lasts long enough for the police to show up, in which we fight them if not all of us die in the spray of bullets, or we get captured to be locked up for life or to get the chair.” Tonight was a good night for them, no one died and supply stolen, “So how about you trust in your fucking boss to make the best decisions, yeah?”

Connor could feel Drix practically chew his tongue to keep quiet. The only good thing about this lopsided dynamic they have. He’ll get the earful later, like he always does, behind closed doors. On the other end, Josey simply closed her case and looked out the window. Cop cars raced down the street toward a scene that could be only described as a massacre. Probably. There really wasn’t much time to see what their handiwork looked like when he ushered out.

The truck driver waited. Sirens and lights illuminating the pitch black alleyways, but they were speeding far too fast to take notice. Silence on the radio meant no one else was having any problems with staying low either. A moment longer, they started to move on the road once again. Josey released a breath. Drix crossed his arms, facing the window. 

A successful night.

[ansgar-martinsson]

The Best Intentions - Part 34

“Hey,” Ansgar said quietly. “What do you care what she thinks?” He stepped closer to her, nearly eclipsing all of the space between them. He cupped her face in his hands, thumbs brushing idly along her cheekbones. “Honestly, tell me why you care? Because you absolutely should not.”

“Because it’s true,” Joline’s eyes lifted to his - big and bright with unshed tears of self-loathing, like a child who’d been scolded. “Isn’t it?”

Ansgar laughed. “No, it’s not true. Not by a long shot,” he said, chuckling. “Jesus, Joline, you’re one of the most successful people I know.”

She frowned, and wrapping her fingers around his hands, pulled them off her face, holding them just by her heart. “But… I’m not. How do you mean? You… you know so many successful people. So many people who make hundreds of millions of kronor every year and….”

“I’m not talking about money,” Ansgar interrupted sternly. “I’m talking about true success.”  He stepped to her side, tucking her arm beneath his, and began walking out of the copse of trees. “Something I measure not by kronor, but by… I don’t know, something less tangible, but I know it when I see it.”

“Describe it to me. What is success to you?”

“It’s…,” he breathed. “It’s doing what you love. It’s… living the way you want to live. Control over your own life, your own decisions. It’s caring for others. It’s comfort. It’s getting up in the morning with the actual desire to go to work. It’s dreaming big and having those dreams, through hard work, become a reality. I mean, if your sister in law’s dream was to be a wife and a stay at home mother, then she’s a huge success. If it was her dream to, perhaps,” he frowned, “I dunno… be a barrister, then, she’s not a success. She’s a failure.”

“Hm,” Joline intoned. “I suppose.”

“And take you,” he said. “Your dream, from what I can see of you, at least your primary dream, is not to be solely ike your dear, dear sister in law,” he laughed. “Quite the opposite, in fact. I can’t picture you leading such a boring lifestyle. Your dream is to entertain, to build, to run the very best theatre you can, one of the most prestigious theatres in the world, and my God, but you’re doing it, aren’t you?”

She remained silent.

He stopped walking, giving her arm a small, gentle tug. “Aren’t you?”

She nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “I am.”

“Then, you’re definitely a success. Success is wholly subjective, my darling, remember that. Her success is not your success, and frankly,” he started walking again, facing forward, his nose in the air, “she’s a bitch for making you feel the failure. Besides,” he said in a false plummy tone, “I don’t associate with failures, how could you possibly be a failure.”

She laughed, leaning her head into his shoulder. She gave him a small push with her hip. “She’d probably feel the same way about you, you know,” look down on you with your…. with your situation. Divorced, no kids.”

He lifted one shoulder in a gesture of ennui. “Eh. Let her have her… feelings. I don’t give a rats arse about her opinion of me. She wouldn’t dare say anything of it to my face, I’d cut her down in an instant for her bigotry. I’ve not cared about the judgment of others for years, I’m not going to start caring now.”

“I wish I had that attitude,” Joline said.

“Ah but you do, on the outside. I’ve seen it,” Ansgar said. “You just feel comfortable enough sharing the deeper side of yourself with me.” He smiled gently. “That side that’s there before your shell hardens over to hide a wound. And…,” he sighed, “I… I thank you for that. I feel the same about you, that… and I….”

BOOM!

A clap of thunder railed off in the distance, echoing through the trees, the sound bouncing off the side of the hill and the water. Ansgar peered up toward the west, where the setting sun was suddenly occluded by dark, threatening clouds. “Damn it to hell,” he said. “We’d better go.”

Joline followed his line of sight. She sighed. “What’d I tell you? Always rains when I come up here. Never fails.”

Ansgar grinned. “Stayed beautiful out here just long enough for us to… to make love.”

Joline snapped to attention, her head swiveling sharply toward him. “Is that what that was?”

Ansgar shrugged as he opened the passenger door for her. “I think so,” he said, shutting the door behind her and leaning on the window ledge. “Don’t you?”

She said nothing, but stared wide-eyed at him, as if he were reading her mind, as if he’d somehow invaded and buried himself deep beneath some private part of her, and the strange thing was… she liked it.

“Well,” Ansgar said, drawing his hand over her cheek, “I think the look on your face says it all.” He trailed his fingers down her neck to her shoulder, and down her arm as he strode back around the car. He folded himself into the driver’s seat, and started the engine. The seat readjusted itself to his height. “Better get the top up, eh?”

“You okay to drive?” Joline asked.

“Sober as a priest,” he said, looking back to ensure the top had secured itself. He pushed the shifter, putting the car in gear. “Besides, I’d best take the helm if it’s going to storm.” He backed up, turned the car, and drove back down the long, winding road to the main highway. “Where to now?” he asked, moving his hand from the gear shift to her knee.

“Anywhere,” she said absently.

“Feel better, darling?” he asked, concerned. “About… about what your sister in law said to you? You still seem a bit off.”

“I’m okay,” Joline replied. “It’s just that… she told me she’s pregnant again, too. Rubbed it in my face like it was some prize she’d won and I came in second place because I’ve never had children. It’s like, it’s all she talks about. Ever. And the look on her face when she told me they were having another baby, it was… so smug, I wanted to smack the look off of her.”

“Oh, really?” Ansgar’s blood went cold. Cold with the knowledge of his own fate when it came to having children, of his own failure… if that’s what it was… on that front. Of his own tamped down jealousy for his brother and his children… his beautiful children. Damn. He swallowed hard and plastered on a wide smile, hiding behind it. “What did I say, Joline?” He turned on his turn signal and merged back on to the E4. “Hmmm?”

“Her success is not my success,” she recited.

“Yes, very good,” Ansgar replied instructively. “And there is no way in hell you are second best to your sister in law or anyone else.” He looked at her and gave her knee a squeeze. “Remember that.”

“Well, okay,” Joline mused. “But you still owe me that ice cream with M&Ms.”

He sighed, thankful for the sudden turn in conversation. He’d tell her, yes. Eventually, but not yet. Not so soon. “M&M’s eh?” He pulled a comically mock frown. “I thought for sure after what we just did you wouldn’t need M&Ms anymore. Am I second best, then? Am I not a good enough replacement for your tiny candy coated chocolate tidbits?”

She gave him a false look of resignation. “Sorry, Sgar,” she sang. “Nothing can replace those tiny candy coated chocolate tidbits. Ever.”

Ansgar gave her a doe-eyed look, batting his lashes. “Your first love, eh?”

“Yeah,” she said airily. “But not my last.”

“Ice cream with M&Ms it is,” Ansgar declared. “And I know just the place. It’ll take about an hour to get back,” he peered at the clock, “it’ll be about nine thirty when we arrive. Would you be terribly upset if I took you home after? I hate to, honestly I do, but I need to get up at oh-fuck-thirty in the morning tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“I’ve got to catch a six am plane to Ystad. Going to watch the nieces and the nephew for the day whilst my brother and his wife go to a wedding. Magnus’ former boss is getting married… for the third time, apparently.”

Joline beamed at him, laughing. “Ansgar Martinsson: babysitter extraordinaire. Who’d have thunk it.”

“That’s me,” he said. “And a damn good one I am.”

She snorted. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

Ansgar cringed, sucking air through his teeth. “Yeah, not my strong suit,” he rumbled. “There shall be a lot of candy type bribery tomorrow, and a bag full of expensive pressies, and a bit of PlayStation, and a smattering of kid things on Netflix.”

“I would expect nothing less,” she smiled.

“I aim to please.” He grinned. “Listen, I’ll text you tomorrow. All day if you like. We can even Face Time when the children are napping. Then, I can meet you on the Monday at the theatre, say at 10 am? For business, of course. We’ve some work to do on the engineering plans. Need you to sign off on some more things.”

“Ooh, sounds exciting,” she joked, insinuating her hand between his thighs, curling her fingers around his flesh. “I’ll sign off on anything for you.”

He purred, revving the engine to echo the sentiment. “Keep touching me like that and I’ll not make my flight in the morning, and you definitely won’t get your M&Ms.”

She pulled her hand back as if burnt.

He laughed heartily. “Yeah, I see where I stand now. I get it.”

The lamps in the lounge glowed in the window, a mother’s touch, to welcome Joline home. She knew the polite thing to do would be to invite Ansgar inside, offer him a drink and introduce him to her mother. The possibility that he might accept, rather than respectfully decline, had her too worried to offer it. She wanted to put her mother’s mind at rest, that Ansgar wasn’t the beast or adulterer that she potentially believed him to be. But Joline wasn’t ready. For each mile they drew closer, she wrestled with how to handle her developing relationship with him and her family dynamic.

She often didn’t bring the men she dated into her home or to her mother or introduce him to her brother or her nephews. The inevitable questions that Joline couldn’t answer would surface and the awkward stilted conversations that followed a short-term fling annoyed her. They only way to avoid those weird talks was to not allow men into her life, at least not entirely. Although her feelings for Ansgar changed, she couldn’t be sure if his had changed for her.

Until she knew, she couldn’t bring him into her life. He’d already claimed a place with the boys and with Elias. The questions and the explanations and Joline’s inevitable heartbreak that loomed in the future kept her from committing to Ansgar and inviting him all the way into her life. He’d said to trust him, and she was trying to do that. She wanted to believe that he was hers and she belonged to him. But she didn’t believe in herself enough to giver herself over to it. She didn’t believe that she could find another relationship of substance after a ten year marriage. How could she? How did she move on from that?

She simply tried, one step at a time. “Thank you, Sgar – for earlier… about Leah,” she murmured just over the oppressive beat of the driving rain on the durable vinyl of the convertible top.

“Of course, darling,” he said turning the car off and killing the ambient light of the car’s dash.

“She means well, she does,” Joline explained with a shrug. “She doesn’t intend to be the bitch.”

“You don’t have to explain her behavior to me.” He pulsed his hand around her thigh, which was noticeably higher than when their journey from Uppsala began. “Or make excuses for her. My concern is you.”

Joline swiveled enough to pillow her head upon the headrest and looked at him. She wasn’t in any rush to leave Ansgar’s presence, even if she was a few feet from her door. “Leah, she’s good people… she is. She almost idolizes Elias and they do make beautiful children together. If I’m honest, I’m looking forward to being an auntie again.”

“What’s your favorite part? About being Aunt Joline?” His questions appeared innocent enough, but his hand under her skirt scooted higher.

“I get to be the fun one! I take the boys to the zoo, to the park, bike riding, out to the pier to watch the wind surfing and the pedal boats. Adrian and Hugo are good boys, I rarely have to discipline them. And when I do, I turn them over to Elias for that.” She sighed inwardly. “Sometimes that’s the hard part, taking them home at night… Elias and Leah get to tuck them up, read them stories, making them breakfast in the morning. It’s a rare treat that I get to babysit them for that part. Leah doesn’t like to be away from them… ever.”

Ansgar made a sound, an abbreviated sound of humor. “I can see that in her, sure.” His thumb grazed over the smooth skin of her thigh.

A far off look washed over Joline’s face as her eyes unfocused and almost looked through Ansgar. “I’ll find my shell again. I will. I… well, I didn’t want you to think poorly of her. She means well.”

Ansgar drew her attention back to him by touching her cheek with a gentle swipe of his unoccupied hand. “I can form my own opinions about her. I’m only sorry that she made you feel bad when you already angry with me.” He smiled crookedly.

Placing her elbows on the console, Joline breached the car median and kissed the lifted corner of his lips. “Don’t do it again.”

“I won’t do it again,” he recited, his tongue in his cheek though he planned to live by it. He tucked his hand between her thighs, encouraging them to split a bit more.

She beamed and retreated back to her side of the car again, to her previous position. “You know, it’s kind of encouraging, this being an auntie thing… again. It’ll be great to have another niece or nephew. Another hellion to unleash on Leah, if she ticks me off. Another person to love, really…”

As if she’d just confessed her heart to him, as if he’d been waiting for her to say it, Ansgar kissed her. He kissed her passionately, reverently and entirely. His tongue stole into her mouth to taste that word or that emotion from her – or chase it away and replace it with lust. He either wanted to take it from her and hold it within himself or wipe that four letter word from her palate and put desire there instead. She couldn’t read him. She couldn’t be sure.

His fingers deftly invaded below, coaxing that word from her lips again or filling her core with splendid sensation. Joline whimpered, widening her legs, offering herself up for the taking, however he wanted her. She lifted her hips, heedless of the place or the neighbors whom might catch an eyeful. Her arousal had been ebbing and cresting since the journey back from Uppsala, Ansgar kept her teetering on the edge with ghosting touches and deliberate squeezes. He made her aware, keenly aware that he was close to her sex all night.

She hummed and moaned in approval as his fore and middle finger pumped a lazy rhythm. Her hand shot to his as she began to climb. Ansgar tore his mouth from hers with a heated, “Nuh uh uh!”

She cursed into the closed area of the car, “Fuck!”

His fingers stopped within her, no more flicking, no more massaging, no more grazing. “Be a good girl. Pry those fingers off me and I will continue.”

She obeyed at once, panting to manager her body’s basic desire to seek pleasure quickly. She surrendered to him, to her man.

“I don’t need direction to find your orgasm, darling,” he whispered. He circled the spongy ridge inside her with a teasing fingertip. “I know. Patience and I’ll make your heartbeat echo through your core.”

Joline threw her head back, training her hands into the leather of the seat under her, and sang her pleasure. “Oh!… Ah… Sgar… I… fuck – just there!” She gasped and held her breath, squeezing her eyes shut, as he swirled her g-spot.

“Now, listen to me… Christ, so wet… While I’m away in Ystad,” he alternated between pumping his fingers in time with the syllables of his words and orbiting her chaos point. He watched as her jaw dropped and her shoulders lifted in need. “No orgasms. Do you understand me?”

She whimpered again, biting her lower lip, trying not to squirm.

“Open your eyes, darling. Tell me that you under—Uh uh uh uh… don’t come yet!” He slowed the teasing down.

“Sgar… please…” Then she hissed as her body clenched in anticipation. She gulped and gasped, desperately trying to follow his direction.

“Tell me that you understand!”

“Yes!” Her body bowed involuntarily.

“Good girl. Your orgasms belong to me. There will be none without me. Will you wait for me, Joline? Until I return?”

“Yes…”

“Say my name.”

Joline licked her lips, tasting her climax… so close, so close…  “Yes, Ansgar!”

Swiftly, he gave her the high that he’d been promising for the past hour.

*~*~*~*~*~

Joline’s mobile pinged with an incoming message as she was making breakfast with her mother. Emelie looked pale and moved with a jittery nervousness. She couldn’t focus, so Joline stepped up.

Ansgar’s message arrived in the midst of whisking eggs. Ingrid has decided pulling my hair is more fun than her binky. Beans has built a castle in every room of the house. Axel slept through most of it. Any tips for me?

Tell Ingrid, the little brat, that those curls are for the lady grown-ups and adult activities! Hands off.  Joline typed back.

She’s not backing down.  His reply was almost immediate. What else have you got?

Have you tried bribery yet? Coffee. All the coffee… and M&MS! Joline typed back.  Bribery for the children. Coffee and M&Ms for you.

I should’ve known.  Have you left any for me?

Joline put her mobile aside. “Mama, why don’t you take a load off? I got this!”

“Your cooking is mediocre, my love. I—“ Emelie gasped as she tried to lift the milk from the fridge. Her hand shot to the small of her back.

Her daughter dropped the whisk with a clatter and went to her. She saved the milk from its fate of a puddle on the kitchen floor. She supported her mother into one of the kitchen table chairs, hoping the episode would pass quickly. Joline knelt in front of her, tabling the bottle, “At least you’ll eat a meal, mama.”

*~*~*~*~*~

I missed waking up beside you this morning. Remind me not to let you sleep alone anymore.  Ansgar messaged again a few hours later.

Joline sat in the lounge pretending to read through some of the upcoming budget proposals for the new season. The costume shop had a huge expenditure list, and she was looking for avenues to cut or at least shave a bit to be able to afford it. The numbers and bullet points only floated in front of her face like a collage, her focus mostly on her mother. Emelie had finally settled upon the sofa, but she seemed restless with her knitting needles.

I’m not doing my job right if you need reminding.  Joline answered, smiling at the device.

I assumed I was being thoughtful to let you sleep in when I couldn’t. Am I in trouble?

Not at all, I understand. How are the children? Are you surviving?

They don’t all nap at the same time, I’m learning.

I’m sure you doing great with them, Ansgar. They’re all still breathing, right?

All alive… and kicking. Literally. Axel may be have a future on the roster for Sweden national football team.

Joline cracked a smile, imagining Ansgar with an infant. The large, broad man cradling a newborn baby appealed to her, his protection, his strength to defend the helpless child.  At least he’s awake now. You can bond over manly things.

Sometime later, Joline messaged him again as she thought over the day before, all the ups and downs they’d been through, from the picnic, to Leah, to Elias, to their spur of the moment journey to Uppsala. She thought she should clear up something for him, whether he knew it or not.  I’m faithful to you, Ansgar. So there’s no confusion.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Dead Man Walking (4/?)

Summary: Prime Ministers don’t normally wake up in morgues after they’ve been murdered, but that’s exactly what Robert Sutherland has just done. Right in front of Lacey’s nose. With limited resources and not knowing who to trust, Sutherland and Lacey must work together to get to the bottom of the attempted assassination.

Based loosely on this dream I had.

Rated: T, eventually E.

Note: This is meant to be ‘darkly humorous and amusing mystery’ rather than ‘gripping political thriller’…

[One] [Two] [Three] [AO3]

—

Dead Man Walking

Four

Lacey’s night just kept getting stranger. Having delivered the Prime Minister safely into the hands of his Chief of Staff, who, although at least three sheets to the wind and probably closer to four, did at least seem capable, she should have just left them to it.

She should have just got them out of the hospital, waved them cheerily away with a cry of ‘good luck, don’t nearly get assassinated again’ and gone home. It was almost two o’clock in the morning, for heaven’s sake, she had better places to be than skulking down alleyways beside the ambulance station. Like bed, for instance.

But no. Here she was, skulking down an alleyway with the Prime Minister, the Prime Minister’s drunk Chief of Staff, and the Prime Minister’s drunk Chief of Staff’s equally drunk mother, for whose presence no one had a satisfactory explanation.

There was a taxi waiting in the shadows and Lacey nearly jumped out of her skin when the lights came on, half-convinced that the secret service had caught them, and they were all about to be thrown in jail for absconding with a supposedly dead body.

These fears were immediately allayed by the taxi driver sticking her head out of the window wearing an incredulous expression.

“Did you two just kidnap the Prime Minister?” she whispered, in as close to a shout of alarm as a whisper could ever get. “I told you I wasn’t getting involved in any illegal activity! You put him back where you found him right now or I’m turning this car around!”

“We’re not kidnapping him, we’re rescuing him,” Carrie said patiently. “And considering we found him in the morgue, we’d really rather not put him back there if it’s all the same to you.”

“Well, technically we found him in a linen closet,” Mrs de Ville pointed out. “Miss French found him in the morgue.”

“Can we please get out of here?” Sutherland asked. “I thought this was a rescue mission; you’re talking more than a fucking cabinet meeting and making about as little sense.”

The stunned taxi driver still did not move.

“Shouldn’t you have a limo and bodyguards and the works?” she asked.

“Well, if we’re going to get technical,” Carrie snapped. “As it is, he’s got us, and I suggest that we get out of here.”

Carrie bundled the Prime Minister into the back of the taxi, much to his protest at being manhandled on top of already having died that evening and been poked with needles by Lacey.

Lacey should have taken this as her cue to leave. He was in good hands; everything would be all right. All she had to do now was avoid the hospital for a couple of days until the furore died down and Sutherland was officially alive and back in Downing Street again.

Her phone buzzed with the arrival of a text message, and the weight of it in her hand reminded her of her earlier phone call to Dorothy and the test tubes of blood she’d dropped off in the pathology lab whilst she’d had Sutherland hiding in the closet. She couldn’t walk away now. Like it or not, she was in too deep. She’d been in too deep the moment she decided to help the poor man avoid the Suits rather than simply informing the necessary authorities that he was alive.

She looked at the message; it was from her father.

DID YOU STEAL THE PM???

She ignored it and shoved her phone back in her bag. She could answer later, once everything wasn’t quite so up in the air.

“Are you coming, darling?” Carrie was standing by the open taxi door. “All things considered I think we might need you. As amazingly put together as I look right now, I’m just a tad worse for wear and a sober brain might be helpful. And, of course, we can work out some kind of recompense for the marvellous help you’ve already given.”

It was not exactly the promise of recompense that swayed Lacey, but she couldn’t deny that when one of the most powerful people in the country – she’d seen Yes Minister, she knew how much power the Civil Service held – said that she might be needed, it did make her preen a little.

“My moped’s round the corner,” she said. “I’ll follow you.”

With that, she thought, she’d effectively thrown her lot in with Sutherland and sealed her fate, no matter what that might be once the Suits caught up to them. If the Suits caught up to them. Maybe now that they’d discovered the body was missing, they’d realise what had happened and give it up as a bad job.

Carrie gave a nod of understanding and got back into the taxi. Immediately a heated discussion started up between her and the taxi driver, and Lacey left them to it, hurrying round the corner to where she’d left her moped, praying that this was not the one night that her luck had run out and she’d been clamped. Mercifully, the tired little Yamaha was waiting for her exactly where she’d left it earlier in the evening, as free as a bird.

A couple of minutes later she was following the taxi down the winding lanes that led away from Stoke Mandeville and into the middle of the dark countryside. She had no idea where she was going, all the roads looked the same at this time of night, and a thought struck her that they might be headed for Chequers. She quickly squashed it; there was no way she’d be allowed in there and Carrie wouldn’t have invited her.

They did not end up outside Chequers. They ended up outside a well-appointed detached house set back from the road on a leafy avenue in a quaint village. It was so typically English and respectable that it made the perfect hideout for a supposedly-dead Prime Minister and his partners in crime, and Lacey had to laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation as she pulled into the sweeping driveway and parked up next to the taxi.

“Right. Coffee, I think,” Carrie said as she helped Sutherland out of the back of the taxi. “Would you like to come in for some, Ursula?” she asked the taxi driver. “You can leave your meter running if you like, but after all tonight’s excitement, I think you deserve something.”

Ursula was very visibly in two minds before she switched the taxi engine off and got out.

“Whatever,” she muttered. “Tonight’s already so goddamn weird. Might as well have coffee with the Prime Minister who just got kidnapped from a hospital.”

Mrs de Ville let them into the house and set about making coffee as everyone else settled in the living room – as stylish as Carrie and her mother looked, Lacey had to admit that the décor was absolutely atrocious. Carrie was fussing over Sutherland, who was not at all appreciative.

“I’m not sure I like you like this,” he muttered. “Worrying like a mother hen isn’t a good look on you. Where’s the snarky wisecracker telling me to get a grip every ten minutes.?

“Oh, she’s still here. It’s not every day that your boss dies and rises from the grave. I was distraught, Robert, I’ll have you know. Ask Mother. She’ll have to get the front wall repaired. I can’t believe how dismissive of my affections you are. I’ll withhold them next time you find yourself waking up in a morgue. You’ll be on your own then.”

Sutherland smiled. “That’s the Carrie I know.”

Mrs de Ville came in bearing a tray laden with cups, cafetière, sugar bowl and milk jug, along with a plate of chocolate biscuits, and Lacey reached out to intercept the cup that was heading towards Sutherland.

“No! I told you, you’re on water until we know what killed you. Besides, you already told me you thought it was your coffee that had been poisoned, surely that should put you off the stuff.”

Carrie raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think anything could put Robert off his coffee.”

Sutherland just glowered at Lacey. ��Can I at least have a cigarette?” he asked, looking over at Mrs de Ville slotting one into the end of her holder. “After everything I’ve been through tonight, I think I deserve that small comfort at least.”

As a semi medical professional, Lacey knew that the correct answer was no, but the poor man looked so incredibly done with absolutely everything that she relented.

“Fine.”

He looked to Carrie, who had just accepted the pack from her mother and who rolled her eyes before handing it to him.

“Do you ladies mind if we light up?” Mrs de Ville asked Lacey and Ursula. “I wholeheartedly agree with the Prime Minister concerning the stressful events of the night and I’m not even the one who got assassinated.”

Ursula shrugged. “It’s your house, I’m just here for the ride. Well, that’s not strictly true, I’m here because I am the ride.”

“The one good thing about coming home is that I can use a cigarette holder and not look pretentious,” Carrie said.

“No, you still look pretentious,” Sutherland muttered. “There’s just two of you looking pretentious together.”

“I’m sorry, did you say someone had been assassinated?” Ursula said. Everyone in the room pointed to Sutherland and Ursula’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “I’ve been in a car all night, I don’t think I’m up to speed here, and if you’re going to invite me in and give me coffee then I think I need to know the whole story in case some government scientists try to do experiments on me.” She looked at Lacey with suspicion. “You’re not a government scientist, are you?”

“Hell no.” Lacey threw her hands up in defence. “I just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time when the assassinee woke up, because the assassin didn’t do a very good job.”

“Right.” Ursula stared into the depths of her coffee cup and the room fell silent for a while.

“We’ve got to get to the bottom of this before someone realises that you’re missing,” Carrie said suddenly, stubbing out her cigarette and jumping up before grimacing and rubbing her head. “Ugh, Mother, why did you decide that elderflower wine was a good idea?”

“Elderflower wine is always a good idea. I think the problem came when we decided to bring gin into the mix.”

Lacey wished that she wasn’t on her moped. She could really have used some gin.

“Anyway, Sir Albert’s up to his neck in it, I swear. He’s locked me out of everything. Why’s he even down here in the first place? If you’ve got me you shouldn’t need him. He should be running the show up in London.”

Sutherland shrugged. “I didn’t invite him. I didn’t even know he was down here. Bad news must have travelled fast when you found me.”

Carrie shook her head. “No, he was already here, there’s no way he could have got here from London that fast.”

“Well, we already know that he’s a fucking piece of work, so it’s not too much of a stretch of the imagination to think he’d stretch to murder. I mean, he’s always hated me ever since I made it clear I wasn’t going to be his lapdog and he couldn’t just shove his hand up my arse and run the country through me like he did to my predecessor.”

Lacey couldn’t help but give a snort of laughter at that summation.

“It’s settled then. Sir Albert was responsible!” Mrs de Ville clapped her hands together. “I told you I was made to be a sleuth.”

“Mother, you did precisely nothing. And besides, as much as we all hate Sir Albert, we need some kind of proof.” Carrie’s eyes lit up. “Ursula! How do you feel about earning another fare?”

“Is this one going to involve illegal activity?”

“Well, that depends on your definition of illegal.”

Lacey’s phone buzzed again; she hoped it wasn’t her dad persisting with questions about the stolen Prime Minister.

Luckily, it was Dorothy with the test results.

D: Who the hell did you take this blood from? Are they still alive? Have you been sneaking around with your dad’s corpses?

L: Classified, yes, and technically no.

D: Technically… You know what, I don’t want to know. Anyway, here we go.

“Ok, it looks like you were poisoned with something I can’t pronounce that was extracted from the rhododendron plant, and you’ll be pleased to know that you can now eat and drink whatever you’d like as long as it does not contain rhododendrons.”

“Thank God.” Sutherland attacked the plate of biscuits with relish.

The conversation with Dorothy brought Lacey’s mind back full circle to the hospital.

“This Sir Albert guy you keep talking about,” she said. “Tall, grey suit, not much hair and what’s there is white, grey eyes, looks like he could kill you at fifty paces with dour expression alone?”

Sutherland nodded. “Yes, that certainly sounds like him. Head of the Civil Service.”

“Yeah, he was at the hospital. He was the one who kept delaying your autopsy and the one who, according to Dad, went ballistic when he handed off your effects to forensics without his say-so.”

“Yes, that definitely sounds like him.”

Carrie and Sutherland looked at each other.

“Bastard,” Carrie said. “Right, that settles it. We’re going to Chequers for evidence.”

Sutherland grabbed the last biscuit. “Can you get me some clothes whilst you’re there?”

[missbrightsky]

Bitch Is A Five Letter Word

Masterlist

Chapter 1: How to Treat A Lady

Feyre was ready to be home. She was at her studio all day; four new commissions had come in that day and she had a gallery opening next week that still needed a few finishing touches. She was ready for a hot cup of tea and her bed before having to complete a few more tasks to finish off her to-do list.

The sky was already long dark in Velaris, most of its citizens had rushed home hours before when they all got out of their work at a normal time. The wind played through the streets, nipping at Feyre’s cheeks, hinting at the coming fall and the color changes that came with it. No matter the time of year, Velaris was a stunning city but in autumn, the city became washed with red, orange, gold and every color in between. The people instead of starting to resort to dreary winter colors, somehow became more vibrant with coat and scarves and hats rivaling the array of colors you can always find at The Rainbow, Velaris’s artist district where Feyre’s studio was nestled over Elain’s flower shop.

She rounded the corner to an alley short cut that would spit her out a block from her townhome. Weaving around the trashcans and various assortment of junk that people had thrown out that day, Feyre was nearly halfway down the alley when a faint click echoed off the close walls behind her. Instead of freezing, she slowed her pace down a fraction and shifted her weight to her toes. A second, she spun over her right shoulder, a gunshot narrowing missing her left leg, the bullet now digging into the cement beside her.

“Now I’m sure that your mother taught you to never sneak up on a lady with a gun in a dark alley.” She rebalanced herself, taking in the dark smudge in front of her. A footstep scraped against the ground behind her, a warning that her path was now cut off on both ends.

“You’re right. She taught me to introduce myself first,” the figure conceded. A half step forward brought the shooter into a sliver of light. “I’m Eris Vanserra, one of the leaders in the Hyburn gang. Now you can either come quietly or I can take another shot.” The person blocking the other end of the alley chuckled darkly, ready to see her blood spatter.

“Hyburn, huh? Never heard of you, must be small time stuff,” Feyre drawled, unconcerned with his threat of putting a bullet in her.

She could see the asshole tense up; his grip tightened on the gun with a slight tremor. “Well we’ve certainly heard of you, Feyre Archeron. And your boyfriend the police chief, Rhysand Noctis, too,” Eris gritted out. “He’s been causing a few problems for us lately, disrupting supply lines, picking up our members off the streets, raiding our warehouses and we need him to lay off.”

“The boss thought maybe seeing his pretty, little girlfriend bloody and begging on her knees would be the trick to stop interfering with our business,” came a voice behind her, the second figure finally spoke out.

“And so here you are, ready to steal me away like a thief in the night,” she said. “Well alright, let’s get this over with.” Feyre bent over to drop her bag on the ground, it was carrying her sketchpad and she didn’t want to have it damaged. Eris’s eyes flashed with brief confusion but decided it was his property to be concerned about.

He tucked the gun back into his waist band, stalked towards her and reached out to grab her arm. Just because she had agreed to come with them, doesn’t mean he still can’t have his fun.

As he was reaching out, Feyre dodged under his arm, brought her foot up and kicked him square in the chest. Eris landed flat on his ass, knocking a trashcan over in the process.

“You. Fucking. Bitch,” he grunted, out of breath from the kick and fall. He snapped his fingers, signaling to his partner to grab her while he got back up.

She allowed the other to approach and sensed his arm coming over her right shoulder. As it crossed into her field of vision, Feyre reached up and grasped his forearm with both hands, bringing it tightly against her chest before he had the chance to wrap it around her neck. She stomped hard against his insole and whipped her hear back, his nose letting out an audible crack and spurting blood. She released his arm as he stumbled back, swearing under his breath and choking on the blood running down the back of his throat.

“Looks like the chief managed to find a spit fire, let’s see what it takes to put it out,” Eris growled, back on his feet and ready to put the bitch in her place. Feyre cocked her head, urging him to advance, a grin splitting her face.

He lunged forward, fist swinging for her jaw. Feyre again dodged the obvious attack, countering with a punch to the jaw herself, and then using the momentum to follow up with a kick to the side.

Not willing to be easily winded again, Eris twisted to let the kick glance off his side and captured her leg in his grasp. He yanked Feyre forward, ready to wrap a hand around her neck. She pushed off the ground with her other leg, bringing it up around his head to settle her weight on his shoulder. She wrapped her arm around his neck and brought her elbow down hard on his nose.

Eris released a roar, reaching up and grabbing what he could of her, wrapping his hands around her sweater and hair and threw her down to the ground. Her back and head connected with the ground, stars flashing in and out of her vision, struggling to fill her lungs with the cool night air.

Eris chuckled, spitting blood onto the ground. “Boss told me this was gonna be an easy job.”

“Sorry to disappoint, I don’t like living up to other people’s expectations.” Feyre let out a groan as she rolled over, bracing herself on the ground to push herself up.

“Grab the zip ties,” Eris ordered, clearly done dealing with troublesome women. He stepped closer to where Feyre laid, but he couldn’t see how her mind was racing to figure out her next steps.

When in doubt, go for the dick. Cassian’s voice echoed in her mind. He had been training with her the past two years, building up on her own years of kickboxing and jujutsu, adding in more offensive and defensive moves. He never underestimated her ability but firmly believed that if a bigger opponent was getting the best of her, throw honor away and fight dirty. Walking away was more important than pride.

Before he could get any closer, Feyre flipped back onto her back, tucking her knees to her chest. Eris was directly in front of her, unknowingly perfectly lining up her shot. Before he could realize his error, she shot her legs forward, the slight heel of her boots sinking into the soft flesh of his crotch.

Eris bellowed in pain, doubling over and stumbling backwards until he braced himself against the wall and slid down to sit. Feyre recoiled from her kick, flipping her legs over her head and springing back onto her feet from the backwards somersault. She swiveled on her heels, facing the other assailant, confident that Eris would be down on the ground long enough for her to deal with him.

“Do I get to know your name or are you just Eris’s nameless lacky?” buying her a moment to assess her next opponent. Blood was still running down from his nose, staining the crooked smile he was giving her. “Cairn, and I’m his fucking brother, cunt.” He saw what she did to Eris and wasn’t ready to receive the same treatment. He approached her cautiously, looking for an opening. She watched him with the same wariness, ready to capitalize on his nerve with being called a lacky to his brother.

He decided to start with a kick, but both he and his brother seemed to lack the common sense of not letting their opponent know what move to expect. Feyre easily stepped out of the path of the kick, catching him off balance and retaliating with a swipe at his legs, sending Cairn crashing to the ground.

“How are both you this dumb to let ‘a pretty, little girl’ get the best of you,” she mocked, the question rhetorical as neither of them were in a position to give her an intelligent answer. Not wanting her leg to be caught again, she kept her kick to his side swift and immediately darted out of the way of any wayward hands.

Eris began to scrabble at the wall behind her, she needed to finish off this brother before the other was back to causing trouble for her. At least he seemed to have forgotten his gun, choosing to want to use his own hands to defeat her.

Needing Cairn out but not dead, she opted for clipping his temple with the edge of her boot when he was struggling to his knees, leaving him to slump forward, face mashed into the ground and ass in the air.

Despite her current predicament, the pose caused a smile to play around the corner of her lips. Oh how the mighty are brought low.

She turned back to Eris, stalking to where he was still struggling to stand up, she watched him scrabble for a second, wondering what move she should use to finish him off. What did he deserve after making her long day even longer and keeping her from her bed? She likely already did permeant damage to any dreams he had at a family, saving some poor girl from having to spend her life with the miserable excuse for a worm in front of her.

“You’ll—” he strained, “you’re gonna fucking, fucking regret fighting back against the inevitable you bitch.”

“You’re not really in the position to talk at the moment. I recommend shutting the fuck up before I go back for round two down there.”

Eris let out an animalistic snarl, fantasizing of all the ways he’s going to make her scream as soon as he can stand the fuck back up. He finally found purchase on the bricks bracing his back and stood slowly, resting a hand on the wall and while the other was reaching for the gun tucked into his waist band. Fuck pride, he would get his revenge on her once she was subdued and tied up back at the compound.

Feyre was not injured so much that she did see how he was going for the gun she thought he would forgo. The back of her head was starting to throb and all she wanted was to be home.

Just as his fingers were grazing the handle, she rushed forward and twisted the arm that was reaching for the gun, twisting it further behind his back. Feyre swung her leg around and kicked the back of his knee, sending Eris careening to the ground again, his knees cracking against the cement and she shoved her body into his so that his head struck the wall that used to be his support.

Blood was now streaming down his temple, but Eris still clung onto consciousness. Not wanting to give him another opportunity to go for his gun, Feyre yanked it from his pants and leveled at his forehead, finger resting lightly on the trigger.

“You don’t have the guts,” he wheezed out, hatred glowing in his black eyes. She might have kicked his ass but he was sure she wouldn’t pull the trigger.

Feyre leaned in to look into his slowly shuttering eyes, “Then you don’t know who you’re dealing with.” Her face was cold. Uncompromising. Inhuman.

Fear finally bloomed in his face, his cheeks draining of color, realizing that his boss didn’t know shit about who he had wanted brought in.

Feyre flipped the gun in her hand and whipped the edge of it against his temple and Eris’s body slumped completely to the ground. Satisfied that both of her attackers were sufficiently knocked out or could be easily rendered unconscious again, she tucked the gun into her waist band and walked back to her bag. Pulling out her phone, she scrolled to her boyfriends’ name and pressed call.

“Hello, darling,” Rhys answered on the first ring. “Are you home? I promise I’m almost done at the precinct and then I’ll be home to cook dinner.”

Feyre smiled at the sound of his voice. Despite obviously being able to care for her own wellbeing, it was nice to have someone to share a life with.

“Not quite yet, I had a bit of a run in with some of Hyburns’ thugs,” she said lightly, not wanting to scare him. “Could you send a squad car to come pick them up at the alley between 5th and Veritas?”

There was silence on the other side of the line. “Babe?”

“ARE YOU OKAY?” the words came out so loudly, Feyre had to yank the phone away from her ear to avoid permeant hearing damage. “I’M ON MY WAY.”

She could hear doors slamming and the yelling of orders and the stomp of boots coming from the other side of the call. Not wanting to have her eardrum nearly shattered again, she put him on speaker phone and cast an eye over her now captives, not wanting them to give her any surprises.

Hoping to calm Rhys down a bit, she spoke slowly and clearly, “Yes babe, I am completely fine, just a bit bruised up but I knocked both of them out.”

A light huff came through her phone’s speakers. At least he still had enough humor in the moment to realize that his girlfriend is not defenseless. He may have been a cop for eight years and then the chief of the 1st precinct for the past three years but he knew Feyre could even put his well-trained ass on the ground when they spared.

“Of course they are.”

Sirens began to blare on his end. “I’ll be there in less than five minutes, think you can manage to keep them under control until we get there?”

“Just exactly how many people are you bringing with you to pick up a few, knocked out, low level thugs?” she quipped. “And yes, I think I can handle them for a few more minutes,” answering his question before he repeated himself. Rhys is many things that she loves but being a bit of a control freak when he was in chief of police mode was not at the top of her list.

“I’ll see you soon, darling.” He didn’t want to let her go but he needed to focus on making it around the late-night traffic and answering the questions that were coming through his radio.

“Love ya,” Feyre responded. Ending the call and leaning against the side of the alley, finally able to take stock of any damage done to her body and catch the rest of her breath.

Where Eris had slammed her to the ground was sure to start bruising soon but she has had worse over her years of training. What had started as a way to work past the trauma her ex Tamlin had inflicted on her became a fun way to work out and exert any of her life’s frustrations in a healthy manner.

It’s where she met Cassian who saw her beating the shit out of a punching bag and mouthed off to her that she couldn’t take the real thing. A few minutes in the ring later had both of them on their ass, calling the spar a draw and critiquing each other’s techniques along with trading friendly barbs. From there they met bi-weekly, trading moves and pushing each other to see who could end the round the fastest.

Currently Feyre held the record at 26 seconds by using Cassian’s distraction of a scandalous comment to put him flat on his back and pressing her knee into his chest. He claimed she cheated using a literally dirty trick but she threw his words of ‘whatever it takes’ in his face, citing when he used a similar trick when they first started training together.

It was actually the first day that Rhysand had accompanied Cass to the gym. Feyre took one look at the tall, blue eyed man and knew she would be unable to focus on their sparring session that day. Cass noted her distraction and in the middle of the round commented that Rhys was single and, out of all of his brothers, only had the second biggest dick size. The insinuation from Cass that Rhys would be more than happy to back up the claim caused her to trip midway of her finishing move, giving Cass the perfect opening to put Feyre on her stomach.

The wind had whooshed out of her and she was unable to do anything but lay there for a second, her mind reordering around the comment and the world around her. A tanned hand came into her eyeline, offering a way off the sparing mat with little effort. She wasn’t thinking when she grabbed the hand, thinking it was Cass extending an apology for the trick.

But of course, that wasn’t his style and instead of meeting amber eyes, navy blue ones greeted her as she was effortlessly pulled up. Rhys’s smile was practically feline, ready to spout some line about Cass not being the only guy being able to put her on her stomach, but the depth of her blue-gray eyes halted the line on the tip of his tongue.

They both stood there staring at each other like idiots until Cass had started harassing them to just get a room or even the alley out the back of the gym. Both had flushed and broke eye contact. Rhys held out a water bottle to her and she accepted it with a soft thanks. That day they parted ways in front of the gym, their phones heavy with each other’s numbers and the anticipation of the coming late-night conversations.

Sirens approaching broke her out of her reminiscing, her mood lifted by the memory of first meeting him and the thought that she was about to see him.

A glance to both sides of alley showed the approaching red and blue flashing lights of patrol cars. And as the vehicles came into view of the narrow ends, accompanied by an ambulance or two, which she hoped was not for her because she was honestly fine.

Next Chapter

[cchellacat]

Destroyer prompt: convincing Chris not to go undercover with Erin. 😘

“Chris, I can’t do this again, last time you were gone for eight months. Don’t take the job, please.”

Her voice shook on the last word. She was begging him. The last undercover mission he took had lasted much longer than it was meant to and in that time Kat had had to bite her lip and lie any time people asked her where he was or if they’d broken up. It had been nerve wracking.

The FBI were never forthcoming with information on ongoing op’s and it seemed girlfriends didn’t rank up as high as agent’s wives, so she had been left in a void. No contact with Chris and no information, not even a confirmation that he was alive. She loved him, she really did, but this was a deal breaker. She couldn’t wait around again, not like this. She needed him here with her, she needed commitment. She needed him to choose her.

Chris looked up at her from his seat at the breakfast bar, a cooling cup of coffee only half drunk at his elbow.

His eyes met hers and she looked back at him helplessly. From the minute they’d met she’d known she might never breakdown the wall around his heart. He’d been hurt before, he kept himself tightly reigned. For Chris it was about control, everything in it’s place, things neatly lined up, all ready to fall where he directed. But she wasn’t a game piece on his chess board. She deserved better than this. Either make the commitment or let each other go, that was the ultimatum she had on the tip of her tongue. Choose me, pick me or don’t come back.

She felt tears prick at her eyes as he continued to look at her, seemingly unmoved by her desperate plea. Kat closed her eyes, the words dying on her lips. That’s not who she was, she wasn’t going to force him into something he didn’t want just to prove he cared about her.

She turned on her heel and grabbed her bag and coat, pocketing the car keys.

“I have to go, or I’ll be late… Just… Chris, please just think about it? You need a break, you’re only just back… Maybe a little more time to decompress between op’s would be good for you…” She trailed off as his eyes drifted down to the coffee mug, bringing it up to sip.

She made her way to the door and let herself out. The truth was that ever since coming back from his last undercover assignment he’d been different. Quiet. The easy smiles, the softness of him, somehow covered in a brittle shell. The man she fell in love with was still there, he was just harder to reach.

Kat tossed her bag in the passenger seat and slid into the car. She braced her hands on the wheel and bit back the tears still threatening to fall. She counted to ten and then did it again and again. She would not cry.

The startling knock on glass jolted her out of her self imposed mediation.

She lowered the window and smiled at her next door neighbour.

“Hi David, what’s up?”

“Hey, Kat, I hate to ask you this, but could you come give me a hand, I’ve dropped my house keys in the storm drain, and you have such small hands, I think you might be able to reach in and get them?”

“Sure, I’ll give it a shot.”

She smiled and got out of the car, intending to go around the back and grab her dad’s fishing pole from the trunk which would be a better bet than her trying to jam her hands between metal grates.

The loud bang echoed out over the street as an oncoming car’s tyer burst. She turned at the noise and froze, unable to move as the car came barrelling towards her. It happened too fast. There was nothing anyone could have done to stop it.

Chris listened as the door closed behind her and let out a sigh, rubbing at the back of his neck tiredly.

If he’s honest he’s been waiting for it to happen for a while. Every day since he got back from assignment months ago, he’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her to leave him.

He wasn’t the same man. The last case had fucked badly with his head. He’d been seeing a therapist on the side, one his bosses didn’t know about. His nightmares so bad he didn’t sleep most nights, just lay in bed watching her sleep.

She was the only thing that seemed real and he knew he was making her miserable, he didn’t understand why she was still here, not with the way he’d been pushing her away and ignoring her. The number of times he just couldn’t seem to find the words because she was the only person he couldn’t bullshit and lie to.

He’d make a promise he wouldn’t ever lie to her, it had meant silence more often than not, partially because the truth hurt to much to speak out loud and partially because he swore to himself that he’d keep that promise if it killed him.

He tossed the mug in the sink and leaned over the to look out the window. He could see her sitting in the truck, hands braced on the wheel.

He hated what he was doing to her, he’d been sure that she’d break up with him before she left this morning. He’d told her last night at dinner about the new assignment. It would have been kinder to just tell her to leave him, but he could’t bring himself to pull the trigger in their relationship. He loved her. God he loved her so much but he didn’t deserve her.

Then the sound of a tyre blowing out had him crossing to the window, he found the car and saw the driver lose control of the wheel. Watched as it swerved, heading straight for Kat’s truck.

Icy dread caught him tight in its grip as he spotted her standing there, right in the path of the car. His shout of warning unheard through the windows. He could only watch as the events unfolded.

——————————————————-

The hospital waiting room was cool. The stale air tinged with the smell of antiseptic and the underlying stench of blood. He stared at his hands, stained brown, the crust of it under his nails.

There had been so much blood. It had pooled around her head and shoulders, he’d ignored every piece of training he knew when he’d run out to the street, the only thing he could think of, to hold her in his arms.

She hadn’t woken, her head had struck the ground hard when David had pushed her out of the way of the car, the poor guy had died a second later after saving her, the car hitting him and crushing him between the hood and the side panel of the truck.

He’d held her till the ambulance had shown up, willing her to live just a little longer, talking to her, saying all the things he should have before, but had been too stubborn to say.

Now all he could do was wait for her to wake up. He paced for a while, thinking of the young woman he’d met the day before, Erin. She was a mystery to him, no formal training for the job, he’d been worried she wouldn’t be able to handle the work, had felt responsible for her. She had surprised him with her grit, he could admire that determination. Whether it would see her through the assignment or not he didn’t know, nor would he.

Chris pulled out his phone. Dialling the number he’d had on speed dial for the last ten years.

“Collins”

Jim Collins barked into the phone, something had already got his temper in a twist but right now Chris didn’t care how tetchy the man was.

“It’s me. I’m off the assignment. I can’t take it.”

Collins voice rose a notch until Chris had listened to his bullshit enough.

“I quit. I’ll hand in my badge ad gun as soon as I can. Kat’s in hospital I need to look after her and I’m not going back undercover again.”

The silence on the line was only slightly unnerving.

“Don’t be so dramatic Chase. I’ll sign you off, two weeks. When you come back you can take the damn promotion McDonald wants you to have and run your own damn division see how you like it.”

The call winds down quickly and Chris is left reeling from the sudden shift in his world. No more undercover.

He slipped back into the hospital room and sat by Kat’s bed, taking her hand in his and watching the monitors as they counted out the beat of her life. This is where he belonged, with her.

Consciousness drifted in slowly accompanied by a slow throbbing pain in the back of her head.

Kat squinted, blinking as she opened her eyes. Her mouth was dry and her whole body felt like a giant bruise. Turning her head she found him, slumped in a chair next to her bed. He looked peaceful, his face relaxed, his mind lost in the depth of dreams. His hair looked like he’d been running his hands through it frequently and his shirt was rumpled to a ridiculous extent. How long had she been here?

“Chris?”

He jerked in place then sat up fast, eyes when he saw her awake.

“Christ, your awake.”

He left the chair settling on the edge of the bed and taking her hand in his.

“You’ve been unconscious for three days. How are you feeling?”

“Parched.”

She answers him, feeling an odd fondness in her chest as he scrambled to get her some water and a straw. She drank slowly and watched as he fiddled with his watch. He was never this unsettled or fidgety. He kept looking at her and smiling too. When was the last time he’d looked so happily at her?

“Okay, I hit my head, right? Isn’t it me that’s meant to be the one not acting like myself…?”

Chris bit his lip, worried at at for a moment before speaking.

“I’m sorry. When I saw you…. Kat, I nearly lost you. You’ve always stood by me, through everything, even when things got bad, you didn’t give up on me. Even when I pushed you away you kept trying to reach me. I’ve not been there for you. Nearly loosing you, fuck… I’m… I need you to know things are going to change, I mean it. No more undercover work. I’ll be on a desk from now on. I hope I haven’t blown it, that we can still-“

She cut him off, one finger pressed to his lips as his eyes filled with unshod tears, hers too, were glassy with emotion.

“I love you. Do you love me?”

His reply came instantly.

“I love you, I am so in love with you it scares me princess.”

“Then that’s enough. Just promise, you won’t stop talking to me again. It hurt, it really hurt.”

“I swear. From now on, no more silence. I never want to miss the chance again to tell you how important you are to me.”

She felt the tears spill down her cheeks at his word, reaching for him. He moved forward, drawing her into his arms and held her close. She still hurt, outside and inside but she felt hopeful. She could see it in his eyes, something had changed.

———————————-

6 Months Later

“Chris? We need you on the Nevada desk, some OP you were involved in way back just blew up. Complete clusterfuck. Collins wants your assessment of a sheriff deputy they had UC. Looks like she went native.”

Chris took the case file and flicked it open. The photo of Erin looked back, she looked bad, strung out. Fuck. He knew she was too green for the OP.

“Tell him I’ll be down in five. Looks like we’re pulling overtime then.”

His colleague nods and leaves the office as Chris picks up the phone.

“Hey baby, gonna be late tonight, I’ll call if I won’t make dinner okay?”

Kat’s sweet voice drifted over the line assuring him it was fine,

“How the bump?”

He chucked as she lectured him in not calling their baby a bump.

“I promise I won’t miss the appointment tomorrow, I’ll be there.”

He could hear the smile in her voice as she said goodbye.

He put the phone down and shook his head sadly as he picked up the file again. Such a waste of a career and a life. He was just thankful he’d stayed where he was and not got mixed up in the whole mess. He briefly touched the wedding photo in his desk as he passed it. He was exactly where he was meant to be.

[sp4c3-0ddity]

15. “Was that supposed to hurt?” Sounds like a taunt in canon verse to me. 👀

nyoom. nominally a Get Smart AU (or any generic spy AU really). ~2000 words, enjoy!!

warning for mild non-graphic torture/whump and blood/injury

(15) “Was that supposed to hurt?”

Lance crumples when the blow lands on his stomach and knocks theair out of him. He coughs and clutches at his throbbing abdomen before spittinganother globule of blood and saliva at the huge feet of his tormentor.

Gross, he thinks despite knowing thatis the least of his worries. But heforces the grimace off his face and replaces it with a smirk. “Was that supposed to hurt?” he wonders, meeting the thug’s darkeyes.

The thug only grunts - which isjust typical; he’s just the muscle - before raising his fist.

Lance doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even pinch his eyes shut. If they want to beathim to a pulp, so be it; they won’t get anything from him. It’s already badenough they captured him on his first mission, the one hedesperately needed to prove himself lest Keith take his place for the next one.

One minute he got his flirt onwith their target’s daughter while Pidge glared daggers at him andtelepathically - or so he assumed; who even knows what sort of tech she hid inthe bodice of her emerald dress? - and the next he followed her, laughing whileshe tugged on his sleeve and told him she wanted to show him something.

Sure, Pidge would chide himlater for allowing a stranger connected to their target to separate them, buther smile freed butterflies into his belly and the promise of getting somewhereon their mission was too tempting an opportunity to pass up just to wait forhis partner to check for lasers or cameras or whatever.

Besides, with his heartbeatwhere a lip should be and an ache in his abdomen, Lance has more importantthings than disappointing Pidge to worry about now.

And yet…

“Enough, Lahn.” Heels click against the tile - once clean andwhite, now stained with a few drops of Lance’s blood - floor and a pair ofstiletto sandals approaches.

Lance lifts his head andnarrows his eyes as the boss’s daughter stands over him,taking the place of the thug; is this the part where they start interrogatinghim?

“You came alone?” Ezor wonders. She smacks a crowbar against heropen palm, her quirked eyebrow visible in the basement’s - or dungeon’s; thebasement he glimpsed before the thug wrestled him to the ground looked muchnicer - dim lighting.

Lance thinks of Pidge, thinksof her reluctantly agreeing to his idea to infiltrate the gala above, thinks ofpretending to be strangers after weeks of working the same mission as partners.So he plasters on his most charming smirk - his likely broken nose probably doesn’t help - and says, “Would I have looked twice at you if I had adifferent beautiful woman on my arm?”

(“You clean up well,” he teased Pidge. He never saw her in anything aside from pantsand sweaters, and usually ill-fitting, so when she greeted him in anhonest-to-God ball gown that swept the floor and tied in a bow on one of hershoulders and left the other and her pale, slender neck exposed his eyes shotopen and his mouth went dry.

And he only grew warmer whenshe very obviously looked him up and down in his dark blue tuxedo beforestepping into his space to adjust his tie. “So do you,” she said, more earnestly than he thought her capable of, “but your hair looks betterwithout the gel.”)

Ezor’s twitches. “Such a shame,” she scoffs, “ruining a pretty face.”She raises the crowbar and swings.

Lance yells at the explosion ofpain in his jaw, his head snapping back with the force when it connects andknocks him to the ground. A whimper that, in any other circumstance, might’ve been embarrassing escapes him, and as the initial shock fades,he gingerly touches his jaw and winces.

He doesn’t have the time to dwell on his fresh injury. A huge, meaty handfists in his gelled hair and jerks him up to his knees, his scalp stingingwhile Ezor scowls down at him. “Th-thanks for that,” Lance mumbles, nearlybiting his tongue due to the clumsiness in his aching jaw. “Didn’t want mycolleagues to get too jealous of my good looks…”

His assailant takes his chin inhand almost tenderly, tilting his head and leaning close to appraise the bruiseundoubtedly blooming over his skin. His impulse is to wrench himself away, butthe thug holds him in place with one hand on his head and another on hisshoulder.

“I will ask you one more time,” Ezor says, any trace of brevityvanishing from her face. “Who came to the gala with you?”

Lance glares at her with asmuch fire as he can muster, because like hellwill he give up his partner. “Go suck a bag of—”

A blaring alarm cuts him off,accompanied by a flashing red pinpoint of light in the ceiling. Ezor jumps, hereyes wide as she looks towards her thug. “Go see what that is and if it’san emergency,” she tells him.

“But the spy—”

“Don’t worry about me, Lahn,” Ezor simpers. Her thumb presses intohis busted bottom lip, brushing away a few flakes of dried blood, as she lowersher gaze to meet his. “I’ll take good care of him.”

Lance’s heart skips a beat as he swallows. “Y-you sure you wouldn’trather check that out?” he asks, his eyes bulging as Lahn lets him go andretreats up the stairs. “What if it’s a fire?”

But without the thug here, anddespite the aching in his abdomen - he probably has a few bruised ribs at best- he has the chance to overpower Ezor and escape and—

Then what? His cover is stillblown, the mission completely and utterly compromised, and Allura and Shirowill never send him into the field again - if he even makes it back toheadquarters in one piece with Ezor’s father’s people standingbetween him and the exit.

And he needs to find Pidge without arousing suspicion, without themconnecting the dots that they’ve come here together, withoutblowing hercover. His future at the agency is hopeless, but they can still salvage hers.

The slow smirk creeping overEzor’s face sends a shiver down Lance’s spine. “Then there will beless evidence I’ll have to burn myself.” Her face hardens, mirth fading as shedemands, “Tell me who—”

Something cracks, loud and distinct, and Ezor’s eyes roll into the back ofher head a heartbeat before she lets go of Lance’s face and crumples. He staresincredulously at her prone body while his heart pounds before raising his gazeand finding Pidge.

A wide, painful smile bloomsover his face. “Pidge!” He stumbles to his feet, heedless of the throbbing in hisribs and just so damn happy to see her.

Until he catches sight of thefurious scowl twisting her lips.

“Pidge?” Lance offers her a tentative smile, reaching towards her.

She stares at his hand as ifshe’s never seen anything like it. But then the object she used tocrack Ezor over the head - it looks like a broken table leg - slips from herhands and she tackles him.

Her arms slip around his neckas she buries her face in his bloodied collar. He steps backwards, wincing atthe collision making something - oh, he definitely has a broken rib or two - shift inside him and shooting fire uphis nerves, but he winds his arms around her back and holds her anyway, lettingher presence wash over him like a soothing balm because both of them are fine.

(Or, well, he’s somewhat fine.)

“Wait,” he says, remembering the alarm that blaring overhead. “Isthere a fire?”

“A small one,” Pidge mumbles, her voice muffled in his shirt. “Itwon’t take much, but we’ll be gone by the time it’s out.”

Lance sags, relieved, and,despite his reluctance to move - because if she’s holding him like this shecan’t be too angry with him - he says, “Then maybe we should—”

Pidge jerks away from him, theslightest - and likely imagined - hint of a smile vanishing in favor of a scowlas she grabs his collar and yanks him down to her level. “What the hell were you thinking?” she demands.

“Dodged one interrogation for this,” Lance jokes, rolling hiseyes. He sighs when Pidge shows no hint of amusement, his chest tight andstomach churning with guilt - just another thing to add to his list of hurts -and says, “I’m sorry I compromised our mission when—”

“You think I’m angry about that right now?” Pidge’s furrowed brow smoothed as she licked the pad of herthumb and rubbed at the corner of his mouth. “You have a busted lip and someonewas trying to beat you up, Lance.”

He blinks in surprise, staringat her, but she’s not meeting his eyes, too intent on wiping away every last hintof blood still on his face. Absurdly warmth rushes to his cheeks, a slow smilestretching his face - or it would if smiling doesn’t hurt so much thanks to hisbruised jaw. “You mean you’re not mad about that?”

“Not nearly as mad as I am about the fact you let someone we know isbad news isolate you.” A sigh escapes her as she lets go of his collarand cups his - blessedly uninjured - jaw. “What are you even trying to prove bydoing something risky like that?”

Dread knots in his stomach ather piercing question, but the tenderness in her touch - the genuine care withwhich she treats him - contrasts so much with Ezor’s mocking that he can’t bring himself to feel defensive. He restshis hand over hers, not quite leaning into her palm but near enough that heknows he’s indulging.

And he admits, “This was my first mission.”

“I know,” Pidge says, frowning. “That’s why you should’ve been extracareful.”

“No, Pidge…” He sighs and reluctantly pulls away from her. “Ifailed the test the first two times I took it, and with everyone else groundedafter that security breach, this was finally going to be my chance to provemyself.”

His eyes drift to the tile attheir feet before fixing on a tear in the hem of her gown. He half-expects herto offer some unhelpful and awkward platitude - not long ago she confided inhim that she wasn’t good with people and preferred tech…which wasironic considering she’s a damn adept spy - or to even smack him upside thehead and tell him to get a grip and to focus on the mission.

But she takes his hand, forcinghim to meet her eyes through that one simple gesture, and raises an eyebrow. “Lance, why are you speaking in the past tense?”

“Uh, because—”

Her fingers tighten around hisas she says, “This mission isn’t done yet; you still have a chance to proveyourself.” She offers him a slight smile that fills his chest with warmthand almost distracts him from the persistent ache in his ribs and jaw. “And if my opinion counts for anything, you’ve done way betterthan most agents do on their first missions, and usually the first issomething less dangerous and with fewer stakes. Your involvement isn’t the fluke; whatever the hell you did tonight was.”

Lance rolls his eyes andgrumbles, “You’ll never let that go, will you?”

Pidge actually giggles and promises, “Never, especially since you were the damsel in distress I had torescue.”

But Lance smiles, despite herteasing, finding himself believing her and comforted…at least until he remembers that they’re still in a precarioussituation. “So uh…we escaping anytime soon, or what?”

(They’re halfway up the stairs when she mutters, “Teaches you to flirtwith someone other than me…”)

[dosei-dreams]

밀수업자 [Runner] - 1(KNJ- KSJ)

Wordcount :: 6.1k

Genre/ Warnings :: Thriller, Gangs,Gangs, Kidnapping, Gang Member! KNJ Teen! KNJ, Blood Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Minor Character Deaths, Gang Violence, lapslock

Summary:: 밀수업자. Translation: contrabanist, runner, puller.

That is Namjoon. He’s BTown’s most well known drug runner, never having a run go bad. He’s always up for a challenge, but maybe taking this boy home is too much for him to handle.

1 | 2 | 3 

this had been a normal life for namjoon. being in a gang, getting into shootouts, shit like that. drug running was his main thing, and he was pretty good at it, if you asked anyone who knew him. but that was all he would deliver.

drugs. that’s it .

that is, until his boss had a… special delivery for him to make.

“a fucking kid?” namjoon looked at his boss, only known to him as 'bbang’, with wide eyes as he spoke, his voice raising slightly. “you want me to run… a kid ?!”

“not just any kid, namjoon.” bbang calmly told him, leaning back against the chair he was sitting in. “he's the only son of that big shot ceo, kim something or other. kid was kidnapped by those fucks from one shot.”

“so what does that have to do with me?” namjoon asked with an annoyed expression, honestly wanting to be anywhere but where he was.

“oh, c’mon. you know you're btown’s best runner, whether it be our shit or otherwise. i'd be a dumbass not to have you take the kid.”

“take him where, exactly?”

bbang looked at namjoon with a straight face, his voice coming out smooth and buttery as he spoke to him. “you're taking him back home, to seoul.”

“no. no fucking way.” bbang rolled his eyes as namjoon protested against the situation, leaning back even more into his chair as he let the younger talk. “there's no way i'm going to babysit some kid all the way seoul. you're out of your fucking mind if you really think i would do that”

“not even for the million dollar reward they're giving to whoever brings him back safely?"

bbang gave him a smirk, tilting his head lightly as he watched namjoon's expression change from slightly angry to shocked. "listen, namjoon. if you do this, you won't have to do anything ever again, yeah? a million fucking dollars, man! you do this last thing for me and you can be out of this shit. you don't even have to come back."

namjoon’s eyes were a little wider and his mouth was slightly agape, telling bbang exactly everything he needed and giving him an answer almost immediately. he scoffed and ran a hand through his hair, not even daring to say his answer. why would he need to?

"when do we leave?"

"tonight." bang stood up straight as he talked to namjoon. "it'll take at least three days to get there by foot. and yes, i know you're gonna be walking because you can't drive for shit."

namjoon scoffed again, rolling his eyes as he listened to bbang.

"kid's like ten, so just be careful with him, alright? you'll need him to get home without a single scratch on him if you want this money." namjoon took a deep breath before nodding and turning his back away from the elder and making his way out the door.

"and namjoon,"

"what?"

he turned back around, his jaw clenching when he saw bbang's serious expression and his piercing eyes that stared right into namjoon. "people are gonna be after you for this kid," bbang stood up from his chair, walking closer to namjoon and placing a hand on his shoulder. "so don't do something stupid alright? always stay strapped and keep your guard up. i want you to finish this run alive , am i understood?"

namjoon bit the inside of his cheek and hesitantly nodded at bbang before brushing the elder's hand off of his shoulder and walking out, making his way across the street to his apartment. for a moment he thought of what he was getting himself into, but when he thought of how much money he would be getting from bringing this kid home, the thought was easily pushed to the back of his head and the only thing he thought about was what he would end up doing with the money, how much he would spend for his family, and how much he would keep for himself.

as he walked into his apartment, he checked the clock hanging up on the wall opposite from him. it read 2:14 pm. he had a few hours to get everything he needed and to sleep a bit before heading back to bbang's to get the kid. he started by taking a shower, making a mental checklist of things he would need to get before he left.

'seoul is a pretty long walk... i should bring an extra pair of shoes.'

'i'm gonna need some money for food...'

'water is a must... '

he let the warm water of the shower run down his back as he thought long and hard about what he would need to bring with him, getting out fifteen minutes later and starting to stuff things in his backpack as he dried himself off. in his rucksack were two days worth of clothes, a couple bottles of water, four guns (as bbang would say, 'you can never have too many guns.'), many, many bullets and a wad of cash for if he needed to buy any other necessities.

he checked the bag over three times just to make sure he didn't forget anything before setting it down next to his bed. as he fell over on the mattress, not even bothering to change into another set of clothes and just opting to keep the towel wrapped around his waist and change when he woke up a few hours later, he listened to the sounds that were emitting outside of his open window. the wind blowing, the sound of police sirens that had been a staple in his life for as long as he could remember, the cars zooming down the street, their engines roaring as the drivers stepped on the gas just to prove a point that they were tough guys with good cars. all of the sounds of the street were like a lullaby to namjoon, were like a soft whisper in his ears, and as he covered his eyes with his forearm, they lulled him to sleep.

by the time namjoon woke up, it was 7:15. he lightly groaned as he rubbed his face with both hands, pushing himself off of the mattress and making his way to the closet. he slipped on a dull white t-shirt and a pair of slightly tattered cargo pants, putting a moss green jacket on over his shoulders and a black baseball cap, before grabbing his rucksack and making his way across the street to bbang's garage. he could tell all eyes were on him as soon as he walked into the garage, adjusting his cap and walking right up to bbang , who was standing, leaning against the wall with the same shit eating smirk he had given namjoon just hours earlier.

next to him was a young boy, his face cherubic and his eyes shining with an innocence that namjoon would never know of. he looked a bit scared of the elder as he held onto bbang's shirt sleeve, looking up at namjoon with wide doe eyes. namjoon looked down at him with an unreadable expression before looking back up at bbang, nodding his head over to the boy.

"this the kid?"

"yeah." bbang pushed himself off the wall and took hold of namjoon's rucksack, namjoon handing it over to him as he opened it and checked the contents inside. "clothes, good. money, water, shoes... alright." he looked back up at namjoon with a raised eyebrow. "how many you got."

"four." namjoon lifted up his shirt to reveal two glock 27's in the waistband of his cargo pants and lifted up his pant legs to reveal two more ruger lcp's. he gave bbang a light smirk as he tilted his head slightly. bbang chuckled as he walked up to him, handing him another ruger and wrapping his fingers around the hilt.

"take another." he muttered before looking back up at namjoon. "you can never-"

"have too many guns." namjoon finished the sentence for bbang before carefully placing the gun in his rucksack. he looked back over at the boy, who had been awfully silent, before walking over to him and crouching down to his level. he awkwardly placed his hand on the boy's head and feigned a smile before looking back up at bbang with a raised eyebrow. "anything else i need?"

"hmm..." bbang rubbed his chin in thought, rolling his eyes upward as he marked off his own mental checklist before shaking his head at namjoon. "not anything i can think of. just stay hidden and be careful." namjoon nodded, pulling out the black mask that he had in his pocket and slipping it over the bottom half of his face.

bbang looked over at the boy, patting his shoulder and motioning for him to follow namjoon as he walked out the garage. the boy hesitantly nodded, quietly following namjoon as he walked back into the streets and started his journey to seoul. there was a certain kind of stride in his footsteps as he walked, one foot following the other, one leg swinging past the other in time with his breaths as he let his thoughts roam, only one being coherent in his mind.

this better be worth the money.

it was silent as they walked, the boy most likely too scared to say anything and namjoon too uninterested and uncaring for small talk, but the silence was deafening, and namjoon felt that he had to say something to him. he was a little too quiet to have been an abducted child. maybe he was too scared to say anything, maybe he had always been like that. namjoon didn't know, but he could tell that the boy was deliberately staying silent when he heard a growl of the boy's stomach and took a glance at his distressed face as he clutched onto his abdomen. ' the kid's hungry... ' he thought, stopping in his tracks and looking down at the boy, who had stopped abruptly when he noticed namjoon's stride had slowed and halted.

"let's get something to eat."

namjoon only watched as the boy ate his burger, a bit amused with how fast he was eating. it was as if he hadn't eaten in days or as if that burger from a grimy diner in fucksville. namjoon chuckled to himself before handing the boy a small cup filled to the brim with water. "slow down. drink this before you choke."

the young boy stopped chewing as he looked up at namjoon, setting down the burger and taking the cup, only drinking a small amount to aid him in swallowing the food that was in his mouth, before looking back down at the table. namjoon tilted his head to try and get a better look at the boy, a helpless expression on his face and a quiet sniffle coming from him.

"what's your name?"

the boy hesitated for a moment, contemplating in his mind whether or not he should trust namjoon. he should, shouldn't he? he's the one taking him home, so he should at least tell him his name, right?

"seokjin..."

"okay, seokjin," namjoon leaned in closer to the boy, making sure he could see the warm smile he was trying to give to him "you can call me rm, alright?" seokjin nodded slowly, finally looking up from the table at namjoon. namjoon gave him another, more genuine smile, as he looked at him. "you don't have to be scared of me okay? i'm gonna take you home." seokjin stilled before nodding to the elder, a small, hopeful smile on his face as took another bite of his burger. and namjoon still only watched as seokjin ate, his mouth flattened to only a thin line as he listened to his surroundings.

the diner they had come into wasn't very crowded, actually bordering on empty as only the two sat at a booth and another man (probably older than the diner itself) sat at the bar. there were dishes clanging in the kitchen, the sound of steam coming from frying pans and the dinging of a bell as the next plate of food came onto the serving table with a light clatter. then there was an opening of the door, the tiny bell ringing periodically as two men walked in. namjoon glanced at them for a moment, that moment being all he needed to know that these were just ordinary men. they were from one shot, and he knew exactly what they were looking for.

calmly, namjoon pulled out another mask from his pocket, slowly handing it to seokjin while mouthing to him 'put this on...'

seokjin quickly obliged, putting on the mask and letting his head hang low as namjoon pulled his own mask back up to cover his face. 

he leaned back against the seat of the booth, keeping his head down and making sure his cap covered his eyes as he listened to the two men walk past them. he waited a moment before lifting his head, quickly looking behind him to make sure they weren't looking in his general direction. 

he took his rucksack from beside him, quickly propping it up on his shoulder and tapping on seokjin's hand to get his attention. "c'mon," he whispered, pulling his cap down lower on his head. 

"we have to go, now." 

he stood up, seokjin following him as they both quickly walked out of the diner, namjoon hoping the men didn't become suspicious of them leaving.

'shit.. ' namjoon thought, pulling the mask down and taking off his cap to stressfully run a hand through his blonde hair and sighing to himself, 'i didn't think they'd be coming that fast...'

"rm...?" seokjin's voice was quiet, a hint of a shake in it as he held onto the hem of namjoon's jacket tightly. namjoon looked over at him, noticing the fear that flickered in his eyes. "who were those guys?"

namjoon bit his lip and sucked in a breath of air. "they're... bad guys." he started, placing his cap back on his head beginning to walk a bit faster to find a motel, "really... really bad guys." he pulled out his phone, opening his messages.

namjoon: fuck, man... you didn't tell me they'd be looking for us that fast

he stuffed his phone back in his pocket and grabbed onto seokjin's arm, pulling him along to the first motel he saw. of course, it wasn't the best looking one, but it worked. seokjin stayed quiet as they walked into the lobby, namjoon walking up to the front desk and smiling lightly at the woman before speaking.

"we're gonna need a room. preferably the cheapest one you got." the woman nodded, turning her back to namjoon to pull a key off of its hook and handing it over to him. namjoon thanked her and quickly walking out of the lobby, seokjin following directly behind him.

the motel room was in fairly good shape for its price. one queen sized bed in the middle of it and a couch on the side. namjoon made note to let seokjin sleep on the bed. the walls were stained badly with god knows what and the ceilings were cracked in a plethora of different places. it was shitty, but it would have to do.

seokjin looked around for a moment, his eyes wide as he scanned the whole room.

namjoon chuckled to himself as he walked over to the bed. "not used to this kinda scenery?" he set his rucksack down on the bed with a sigh before closing the curtains on the windows. seokjin slowly shook his head as he trudged over to the bed and sat down, the springs of the mattress creaking under his weight.

"sorry, kid." namjoon looked over at seokjin with a small smile before taking a peek through the window, making sure no one was coming up to their room before turning back around and sitting next to him, taking off his cap and letting his hair fall down to his shoulders. "it's not exactly the four seasons, but it should be good enough for tonight." he gently rested a hand on the boy's knee, tapping the bone lightly before standing back up and walking over to the couch. 

namjoon lifted up his shirt, pulling the two glocks from under his waistband and dropping them onto the cushions, doing the same with the rugers that were tucked under his socks. as he sat down on the couch, he picked up one of the guns, taking out the magazine and checking to see how many bullets it had been filled with (hoping it was full), inspecting the trigger to be sure it wouldn't jam, making sure the silencer was secured. as he methodically inspected the guns, seokjin stared at him with a type of awe that was indescribable before his soft voice came out, barely in a whisper.

"why do you have so many guns?"

namjoon chuckled to himself as he still looked over the pieces, only pausing to move a stray hair out of his face. "it's like the golden rule of gangs. always be strapped." seokjin began to tense up at the utterance of the word 'gang' , twirling his thumbs against each other as he spoke again, his voice being even softer if that were even possible.

"you... you're in a gang? "

namjoon could hear the hint of fear in seokjin's voice; he had completely forgotten that it was a gang that had taken him. he stopped inspecting his guns and set them down, running a hand through his hair as he looked at seokjin. "yeah, i am," he sighed, leaning back a little on the couch as he spoke to seokjin, "but i'm not with the guys who took you. i'm with the good guys in this kind of situation, i promise."

seokjin, still looking down at his feet, slowly nodded as he bit the inside of his cheek. the thoughts he had about trusting namjoon had sprang back up, so many questions running in his mind. what if he was actually a bad person? what if he would hurt him? what if he used his gun on him? those were the kind of thoughts that roamed in seokjin's head, and he began to get scared again. 

but as he looked back up, he noticed how namjoon smiled at him; it was a warm, reassuring smile; a protective smile, and all the thoughts in the boy's head disappeared, a small smile of his own finding its way on his face as he looked back down at his feet, knowing that he was in good hands.

and then there was a banging at the door.

namjoon's head shot up as he looked over the door, his eyebrows furrowing as he stared at the wooden barrier between them and whoever was on the other side. he stayed silent, still as a statue on the couch as he waited.

one second.

two seconds.

three seconds.

then another banging at the door.

namjoon sprang up from the couch, making his way over to seokjin and taking his arm, guiding him to the bathroom and lightly pulling him inside. he motioned for the boy, wide eyed and afraid, to get into the tub, bringing his finger up to his lips in a silent 'shush' as seokjin sat inside. namjoon crouched down, pointing at seokjin as he whispered as soft as humanly possible, "stay here, and don't come out unless i tell you to, okay?" 

seokjin shakily nodded, namjoon nodding back before straightening back up and closing the shower curtain so seokjin was out of sight, turning off the bathroom light before closing the door and walking back over to the couch. 

he grabbed one of his guns, cocking it and resting his finger under the trigger before slowly walking up to the door. he tried to look out the peephole, but it was pitch black, being covered up by what only namjoon could assume was someone's hand.

shit...

he gritted his teeth and stood to the side of the door. he could feel the individual bead of sweat begin to run down his forehead, his breath beginning to grow shaky from anticipation. never had he been in this sort of predicament, people looking for him, coming after him and possibly wanting to kill him; never over the shit he'd usually run. but this? this wasn't his usual shit. this was a person, a kid . he took a deep breath as he looked at the door from the corner of his eyes, his back flush against the wall and the gun in position, pressed to his thigh. "who is it?" he yelled out, quickly wiping away the sweat that had begun to accumulate atop his forehead before going back to position, waiting for a reply.

"its yoongi."

namjoon sighed in relief, quickly opening the door and letting yoongi in, the elder walking inside quickly and closing the door behind him. "fuck man," namjoon took a deep breath as he ran a hand through his hair stressfully, narrowing his eyes at yoongi. "how did you even figure out where i was?" yoongi chuckled as he sat down on the bed, nodding his head over to namjoon's phone.

"your gps is still on, man." he shakes his head as he quietly laughs, leaning back against the headboard of the bed. "and i'm btown's pi. you really thought i wouldn't be able to track you down?" 

namjoon rolled his eyes as he walked over to the bathroom, opening the door and turning on the light. he walked over to the tub, gently pulling the shower curtain back and looking down at seokjin with a smile as he held his hand out to him, pulling him up and out of the tub, back into the room as he walked back over to the couch and sat down, beginning to reinspect his guns. 

yoongi looked over at seokjin with a raised eyebrow. 

"this the kid?" 

namjoon pursed his lips and nodded as his hard stare stayed on the gun in his hand. 

yoongi smiled as he looked at seokjin, "don't worry, bud. you're in good hands." he pointed his thumb in namjoon's direction with a light chuckle, "our boy rm here's always had successful runs. he'll get you home safe and sound." 

namjoon only smirked, shaking his head in amusement as he put down the gun and pulled out his phone, turning off the gps and checking his messages.

bbang: i already told you what you were dealing with. don't fuck this up.

namjoon stuffed his phone back in his pocket, looking up at yoongi as he leaned back on the couch. 

"why are you here again?" 

yoongi scoffed, rolling his eyes as he looked at namjoon with pursed lips, pulling a cord out of his pocket.

"you forgot your charger in the garage, dumbass."

namjoon groaned, getting up and taking the cord from yoongi. "i knew i forgot something. thanks, man." yoongi shook his head as he pushed himself off of the bed.

"don't even mention it, man." he made his way over to the door, his hand on the doorknob as he slowly twisted it, opening the door as he turned his head toward namjoon. "just get the kid home saf-"

yoongi's head flew back as a bang rang through seokjin and namjoon's ears. everything went in slow motion. the blood spurting out of yoongi's head as the bullet went through his skull, staining the walls and the carpet underneath him, his body beginning to fall back to the ground as the realization hit namjoon.

"shit!"

namjoon quickly jumped off of the couch, making his way to close the door but it was too late. pressure was being put on both sides, and namjoon wasn't strong enough, him being pushed back as the door swung open and a tall man with a gun in his hand making his way closer to him.

namjoon reacted quickly, tackling the man and causing him to drop his gun out of his hand. while the man was down, namjoon turned his head to seokjin who was frozen in his spot, his eyes wide as he looked at yoongi's lifeless body, blood pouring from the wound in his head. "seokjin, go in the bathroom!" he yelled out, the boy not budging and everything namjoon was saying to him becoming muffled in his ears.

"seok-"

namjoon was cut of with a swift punch to the jaw, the man overpowering him and towering over his body as he threw more punches. blood was beginning to pour from namjoon's mouth and nose. namjoon tried to put up a fight, but this man was larger, stronger, too much compared to his thin figure. the man stopped punching him for a moment, bringing his face closer to namjoon's as he spit up blood.

"you're rm? pathetic..." the man coldly chuckled as he brought his hands up to namjoon's throat, tightening them around him and causing namjoon to gargle out at the sudden pressure. "to think that you're known as btown's best runner... to think that i'm gonna be the one that kills you and takes the kid back. perfect." 

namjoon tightly took hold of the man's forearm, trying desperately to pull him away with what strength he was holding onto as the man's grip tightened around his neck. 

"think about it..." the man laughed maniacally, a vein beginning to protrude from his forehead. "i'm gonna be a fucking god ... yeah? being the one shot member that kills the notorious rm? the guy that's killed so much of us? so much of his own kind ?" his grip tightened even more as he spoke through gritted teeth. "me, moon jongup... i'm gonna kill you... with my bare hands? this is fucking golden..." he fell silent as he added more pressure onto namjoon's throat.

namjoon's mouth was beginning to foam as more and more air was being restricted from his pipes. he let his head fall back as he rolled his eyes up too look at seokjin, the boy now looking down at him as he was getting strangled. namjoon widened his eyes to get the boy's attention, looking at him for a moment before, slowly, weakly averting his gaze to the guns on the couch cushion. 

seokjin's eyes widened, but he understood what namjoon was trying to tell him, and once namjoon realized that, he looked away, trying his hardest to keep his consciousness and keep the man above him from choking him to death. even the slightest amount of pressure he was taking away being enough to suffice; it was enough to keep the man above him distracted as seokjin slowly inched closer and closer to the couch, picking up one of the guns and cocking it.

he hesitated for a moment, his hands shaking vigorously as he rested his small index finger on the trigger, slowly aiming the gun right at the man's head from where he was standing. seokjin took a shaky breath, his finger beginning to press down and his body recoiling as the buzzing sound of a silenced shot pierced through his ears.

seokjin fell back, the gun falling out of his hands and the wind momentarily being knocked out of him as he fell hard onto the ground. all he could hear was a soft thud against the carpet and the sound of namjoon's coughing and hard heaving. the elder was now on his hands and knees, gasping for air as small drops of blood and tears dripped from his nose and eyes.

"fucking hell..."

namjoon's breaths were wheezy as he weakly pushed himself off of the ground, his whole face and neck red and hand shaped bruises beginning to form from where the man's grip had been on his throat. he wobbled to the bathroom, turning the faucet on the sink and splashing water across his face to wipe away the blood that had been splattered across his face before turning off the water and walking back out.

namjoon crouched over to seokjin, trying to block his view of the two bodies merely feet away from them as he sat the boy up and firmly gripped onto his shoulders.

"are you okay?"

seokjin was trembling, tears starting to stream down his face as he silently stared up at namjoon with wide eyes and small hiccups escaping from his mouth. namjoon pulled the boy into his arms, making sure his face was buried into the dip in his shoulder as he continued to shake and cry and momentarily consoling him before seokjin pulled away, gripping onto namjoon's jacket as he started to cry harder. 

"i... i-i want to go home..."

namjoon pulled the boy back into his embrace, lightly stroking his hair as seokjin began to sob. namjoon knew why he was like this. how couldn't he? seokjin had just killed a man, most definitely something the boy never thought he would have to do in his life. as he holds the crying boy, namjoon remembers the first time he killed someone, how his reaction to seeing someone's demise at his own hands was the same as the young boy he was consoling. only there was no one to comfort him, there was no one to tell him that he was going to be okay, no one to tell him that he wasn't a cold blooded killer.

because in the end that was what he had become for a long time.

namjoon stood up, hoisting up a still crying seokjin and burying the boy's face in his shoulder, making sure the horrible scene was unable to be seen by him. he quickly grabbed his guns, carefully tossing them in his rucksack before throwing it over his shoulder and beginning to hastily walk out of the motel room. he took one final glance over at yoongi, his wide and lifeless eyes showing how unexpected his end was to him, the small hole in the middle of his forehead, and moon jongup, slumped over himself and only recognizable as a bloody pile of nothing, before turning away and not looking back. as he walked, carrying the boy in his arms as they moved down the streets of the city, not knowing what else could happen on their trek to seoul, namjoon thought of bbang's warning

i want you to finish this run alive

it hadn't even been a day. he checked his phone to see that it was only 12 am, a mere five hours since he left the garage with seokjin, and he already had someone after him for the boy.

as he walked, carrying seokjin in his arms as they moved down the streets of the city, namjoon wondered if he'd be able to make it to seoul alive.

eventually, seokjin had fallen asleep against namjoon, his cheeks stained with dried tears. namjoon shifted to carrying the boy on his back, trudging along the street with his face covered by his mask and his head hanging low. 

the sun was beginning to rise; namjoon was beginning to grow tired. he hoped he would be able to find another motel soon to sleep at for a few hours, and eventually he’d have to remember to find something for the both of them to eat. he swayed as he walked, the strands of blonde hair peeking from under his cap and his breathing becoming ragged. 

the weight of seokjin on his back and his rucksack hanging from his shoulder, along with how weak he already was from being strangled nearly to death, took a toll on him. for a moment, he looked up at the few stars that peeked down at him through the clouds, basking in their glow before they were masked by the sunlight that stole away their glow. he found an alleyway, no signs of life showing from the thin, dark path as he walked down it. he gently shook seokjin awake, urging the boy to hop down from his back and leaned back against the brick wall of the alleyway, setting his rucksack beside him and sitting down. he sighed out in exhaustion as his eyes closed, seokjin following suit and resting his head on namjoon’s arm.

namjoon’s neck was warm and it was hard to breathe, a stinging sensation running through his throat as he inhaled and exhaled. he leaned his head against the wall, looking down at the boy through the corners of his eyes.

 seokjin was wide awake now, clutching onto namjoon’s jacket as the realization hit him that he just killed a man not too long ago. the thought and the glimpse of death he had seen before his face being covered with namjoon’s shoulder flashing in and out of his mind, the feeling of the hard recoil the gun had on him once he pulled the trigger, the metallic smell of blood that flooded his nostrils once the act had been carried out, all of it made him shudder, and namjoon had noticed this.

“hey…” namjoon rasped out. his voice was scratchy, deeper than usual as he spoke to seokjin, lightly resting his arm around the boy’s shoulders. “don’t think about it too much. he was…”

“i remembered his face…”

seokjin suddenly blurted out, his grip on namjoon’s jacket tightening as his breathing became shallow and tears started to well in the corners of his eyes. “he…” 

finally, namjoon properly looked down at the boy, an eyebrow raised in confusion before he understood what the boy was trying to tell him. 

seokjin took another shaky breath as the tears that had been accumulating in his eyes began to fall again before looking up at namjoon. he looked hopeless, broken as he stared at the elder with wide eyes, the innocence slowly being sucked away from them. “he was a bad person, right? he killed your friend…”

namjoon hesitated for a moment before nodding at seokjin. “yeah. he was a bad guy.” he rubbed small circles into the boy’s arm, pulling him a little bit closer to him. “you did the right thing, okay? you’re not a bad person.” 

seokjin slowly nodded, biting the inside of his cheek as another question involuntarily fell from his tongue.

“rm… are you a bad person?”

seokjin barely whispered out the question that had been gnawing at the back of his mind ever since they started their journey, looking back down at his thighs and shrinking into himself a bit more. namjoon dryly chuckled, a small smile on his face as he thought about it.

“shit… probably. i mean, i’m really no different from the other guys, if you think about it.”

“but you’re taking me home, aren’t you?”

“yeah, but…” namjoon’s voice faded, the thought of all the things he had to do over the years of being in btown, the thing he didn’t exactly want to do, but had  to if he wanted to stay alive. the amount of people he killed, the amount of trust he had to break to get where he was now, all the lies he had to tell to get what he needed, every vile deed he had to do just to be seen as worthy. he thought about that as he looked down at the young boy rested against his arm, seeing a bit of himself when he was younger in him, the innocence namjoon wished he could get back, but knew would never happen . 

“i’ve been in this gang since i was fourteen… i’ve done a lot of bad things, things i’m not really proud of, things i shouldn’t have done but still did... ” he looked down at his rucksack, knowing that there were five guns inside, guns that reminded him that he would be nothing but a criminal, a bad person. no better than the gum stuck to someone’s shoe, the scum that stuck to dumpsters. 

“i’m taking you home, but that doesn’t outweigh all the bad things i’ve done. i’m nineteen now, that’s five years of bad things… nah, this one good thing won’t make up for all that.” seokjin pursed his lips, looking back up at namjoon with a ghost of a smile.

“i think you’re good…”

namjoon looked at the boy in shock for a fraction of a second before a light smile of his own found its way on his lips. “yeah? you think so?”  

seokjin nodded as he looked back down, leaning back against namjoon. namjoon chuckled to himself lightly, taking off his cap and running a hand through his hair as he leaned further back against the brick wall and closing his eyes, seokjin doing the same as they both slowly fell asleep, the sun rising and a new day beginning to pass for the two.

one step closer to seoul.

one step closer to home.

[veneataur]

Whumpmas day 6

Fandom: Original work

Prompt: Shot

Title: A Shot in the Eye

A/N: I’m not terribly happy with this one. It’s been sitting around for a couple of days, in part because I struggled to write it. But here it is, day six of Whumpmas.

After the incident where she and Chuck had been taken captive things change at work. She’s not fired, though her boss clearly isn’t happy and the others seem to take more notice of her. Despite her boss’ dissatisfaction with her, she was sent on the company teambuilding exercises. Seeing as she was on Chuck’s team, she imagines that a lot of it has to do with him. He’s been much more talkative with her, hanging around far more than he used to and asking about what she’s doing. It’s nice but she’s trying to work.

The last teambuilding exercise of the day is a friendly game of paintball, which turns out to be not as friendly as Evalyne expects. She’s on Chuck’s team, which is fine with her because she remembers how good he was at getting them out of the building a few months ago.

And it’s all going well until she’s caught in the middle of moving from one stack of hay bales to another as Chuck and his team are directing her. She’s more of a burden to them, she knows, but she’s trying to be alert and think strategically. Several minutes into the game and she hasn’t been shot, which she counts as a victory. In fact, someone else on the team is shot first so she’s ecstatic.

She’s one of the last to advance forward, standing on the edge of the course where the ravine acts as a natural boundary and it’s then that she’s caught. It’s by surprise too when she’s hit with a few paintballs in the chest and one on her goggles. She stumbles first, the shot to the eye-catching her off-guard. Then her feet find unsteady ground and her arms flail, but she somehow holds onto the paintball gun. In slow motion, it seems, she’s falling backward without an end until she finds it in the hard, frozen ground of the ravine, where she tumbles without purposeful direction. On the way to the bottom, she hits some trees, goes over loose branches, and rocks until she comes to a halt on the bottom, lying winded and dazed in the couple inches of water.

When she opens her eyes, she’s staring up at the tree-covered sky, which is blurry and fades in and out. Someone’s calling for her. Several voices and she recognizes them but she can’t form a response. The longer she’s awake, the more she starts to feel, from her aching head to her arm that she can’t even move to her chest which hurts with each breath. She’s so caught up in her own mind and pain that she startles when someone lands next to her. The movement makes the pain peak and she cries out.

“Sorry. Did I hit you, Evalyne?” It’s Chuck and even under the pain, she can hear his concern.

She shakes her head, unable to find her voice other than to moan at the pain.

“Okay. The team’s going to get an ambulance and some equipment to get you out of here. Given the fall you had, I’m not going to mess with moving you until they get here. I don’t want to cause a permanent injury.” He kneels next to her.

She’s grateful for his thoughtfulness. He’s a good investigator and is close to being made the leader of his own team. Irritated by not being able to see him clearly out of the half paint covered googles, she tries to remove them but doesn’t get far before the pain is too much and her vision whites out. When she comes back to herself, Chuck looks even more worried. He reaches to remove the goggles, pulling them carefully down so they’re hanging loosely around her neck.

“Now, can you tell me what hurts,” he asks.

“Ev… ever’ing?”

He chuckles lightly. “I’m going to need you to be a little more specific. For example, I’m guessing your head is hurting by your pinched face and the fact that you were unconscious for at least a minute.”

She nods and immediately regrets it.

“Okay. Well, what else hurts?”

“Arm. Chest.”

“Are those the worst?”

“Yeah,” she says breathlessly as another wave of pain hits.

“Okay. Good news is that it doesn’t look like they hurt because you’re bleeding heavily from anywhere.”

“Fan… fuck…ing…tastic.”

“Right now I know that’s not much of a comfort, but surely you know from your writing that this is a good thing.”

“Hey, Chuck,” Adam calls out from the top of the ravine. “The rescue team’s coming down to get her. Anything serious?”

“Aches and pains. Nothing bleeding unless it’s internal,” Chuck says. She can see the rescue team, all dressed in orange, already making their way down. Between them they carry a metal stretcher and a medical bag. At some point in her writing, she thinks she’s probably written this very scene, though there’s usually much more peril like a rainstorm so they’d slip a few times. But then she’d also be hurt much worse, like the lack of bleeding would mean that there was internal bleeding and none of them would know about it until they tried to move her and she cried out or when she passed out and her blood pressure crashed and she was critical. Or she’d have broken a rib that would have punctured a lung and then she’d start coughing….

“Hey, Evalyne, you still with me,” Chuck asks, looking down at her worriedly. He’s shaking her shoulder gently.

She cries out at the pain his shaking causes. Her chest is on fire and her lungs freeze as she tries to breathe through the waves.

“Damnit it,” he says, voice low and angry. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think. I was thinking that the concussion might be worse than we thought.”

“Okay.”

“How’s the pain?”

“Still… there.”

“Any worse? Anything new?”

“No, as long as I don’t move and you… don’t t… touch me.”

“Sorry.”

“I kno… I know you d… didn’t…”

“Shut up, Evalyne. You’re just making yourself worse by trying to talk.”

“You… started.”

“I know, I know and I’m going to stop asking you questions. Just stay alert for me, okay? I don’t want you drifting off and not hearing me again. I thought something serious was happening to you.”

“Sor…ry.”

“I said, shut up. You’re not very good at taking orders are you?”

She carefully shakes her head, wincing at the pain it still causes. It’s mild in comparison to the rest of her pain, but Chuck’s good at distracting her. She’s warmed by the concern he is showing. She hadn’t expected it. She fell out of her own clumsiness.

When the rescue team arrives, they quickly push Chuck to the side so they can assess Evalyne. She does her best to answer their questions but the more she’s asked to speak and the more they touch her, the worse everything is. Her head is pounding and she feels like a vice is constricting her chest. And it only gets worse when they put the collar around her neck. They’re careful but she can’t stop the cry of pain nor the tears.

“Hey, hey. It’s fine.” Chuck’s at the top of her head, his hands on either side of hers, looking down at her reassuringly. “Okay? Just keep breathing.” He takes some deep breaths to encourage her. She tries to mimic his breathing but it’s hard with the pain as they work to put her on a backboard. It means turning her on her side while holding the already splinted arm. They couldn’t say if it was a sprain or a break. They’ve splinted her leg as well, which she didn’t realize was hurting.

Chuck stays with her, talking quietly as the rescue team works to get her secured on the backboard and then in the stretcher. The small dose of painkiller they give her starts having some effect by the time they’re getting ready to pull her up. Between the two of them and Chuck’s team at the top, they pull her back up as carefully as they can manage.

It’s a slow process as they try not to jostle her too much, but it does little to quell the pain. She tries to hold back the cries of pain, not wanting to seem weak in front of Chuck’s team but halfway up, she doesn’t bother anymore and after a particularly bad jostle, the pain spikes enough that she welcomes the unconsciousness that comes.

When she wakes next, it’s slow and her mind is clouded but she’s not hurting. Marla’s there as is Nate and she thinks she sees Chuck in the corner. Marla’s on her feet as soon as she sees Evalyne looking more alert and helps her drink some water.

“You back with us,” Marla asks.

“What?” Evalyne looks between them, confused.

“You’ve been in and out since they pulled you from the ravine,” Nate explains.

“Oh. Sorry.” She remembers the ravine and pain but a lot of it is still fuzzy.

“Not your fault.”

“No, that would be mine,” Chuck says, stepping away from the wall for the first time. “I shouldn’t have stuck you so close to the edge. Probably shouldn’t have even taken you out there considering you’re not a field agent.”

“If I remember right, you didn’t shoot me,” Evalyne says.

“No, and that eye shot was against the rules. He’s been reprimanded for it.”

“Don’t. It’s fine.”

“Fine?” Marla’s voice goes up in disbelief. “You have a sprained knee, a broken arm, bruised ribs, and a concussion. That’s hardly fine, Evie.”

“True but it was an accident, right?”

“He says it was,” Chuck says.

“Then don’t be too rough with him.”

“It’s not really up to me, but I’ll let the boss know.” Chuck excuses himself for a moment to go make a call.

“You don’t need to be worrying about work,” Marla says. “Right now, you need to be resting. Now, try to relax.”

“Do you need anything,” Nate asks.

“This fuzziness to go away but no,” Evalyne says.

“That’s the painkillers and the concussion. Get some rest like Marla said and it’ll start to get better.”

Evalyne nods and tries to settle back down to rest. Sleep seems at first to be the furthest thing from her mind but her body quickly lets her know that sleep is exactly what she needs.