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Did It Hurt? | Flicker of Hope

↳ FallenAngel!Taehyung x LostSoul!f.Reader ⤜ Fallen Angel AU, Strangers to Lovers ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 15,057 ⚠️ Crass language, unwanted drunken advances, being drugged, blackmail, descriptions of past sexual acts, hidden desires, criminal activity, alluded to SA & potential human trafficking/disappearances, Tae has feelings he’s trying to suppress, scars/vulnerability over past incidents

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Taehyung, 100 years into exile, somewhere in Los Angeles

“Did it hurt?”

The words barely carry over the clamor of the nightclub. But, to Taehyung, they’re as clear as if they were spoken right into his ear. It makes his lips twist in disgust. Because who actually uses that line anymore?

Taehyung flicks his eyes over the scene in front of him. It’s a Friday night, and the place is filled with gyrating bodies and thumping bass. Some frat-boy wannabe is practically crawling into the lap of the goddess—and that’s thought with the utmost respect because it’s precisely what she looks like in her sleek black minidress, vibrant auburn curls, smokey makeup, and red-bottomed heels—sitting at the bar, trying to enjoy her fruity cocktail.

The way she angles her body away from the guy and pointedly stabs the little plastic red saber from her drink into a chunk of pineapple floating on top should be sign enough for the douchebag to clearly see she’s not interested.

“Idiot,” Taehyung murmurs under his breath before bringing his whisky on the rocks to his lips and taking a measured sip. He drums his fingers on the lacquered tabletop where he’s seated at one of the hightops a few feet away. This is one of his usual haunts, a place with the perfect blend of class and an underlying taste of debauchery. It should be the ideal hunting ground, however it remains to be fruitful. Though, perhaps his luck is about to change.

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that. Humor me. Did it hurt?”

There is a moment of hesitation with how the woman’s shoulders hitch up, and Taehyung watches as varying emotions flick across her face before she trains it back to a neutral expression. He can read her like an open book; too bad Douchebag can’t seem to. She’ll entertain him simply to avoid confrontation and make a scene. It's supposedly a polite way to try and thwart unwanted male attention; he’s seen it far too many times before.

“Did what hurt?” comes the exasperated reply. Her lips twitch into a strained smile that’s more of a grimace which Douchebag probably mistakes for being coy. The way her body curls in on itself, and she leans away from his pawing hands, makes Taehyung grind his molars. Human men are stupid; it's no wonder he’s had such a hard time finding any redeeming opportunities in the world.

“When you fell from heaven, angel.”

And there it is. Taehyung rolls his eyes, finishing his drink. “Insipid fool, of course it hurts to fall from Heaven,” he grumbles. A burning, phantom itch crawls up his spine, a reminder of just how much it hurts. It’s a moment in time that he relives every time he closes his eyes. Which, perhaps, can be blamed for why he’s grown so callous and flippant over the years. Nightmares will do that to someone, Seraphim or not.

“Does that really work?” the woman bites out before downing the rest of her drink and shoving the empty glass away. She’s out of her seat and trying to give Douchebag a wide berth before his snail brain can even catch up with her words.

It’s comical watching him finally get it. He throws his head back and guffaws loudly before stumbling in her direction. She goes to sidestep around him but is stopped short when she bumps into a barstool someone just slid back as they stood. Douchebag crowds her against the bar, and Taehyung is tempted to intervene, but something niggles at the back of his mind; he’s curious about what she’ll do.

“You tell me, is it working, angel?”

A saccharine smile curves her lips, baring her teeth in a mockery of flirtation. Taehyung wishes he could read her as easily as he did earlier, but somehow, she’s masking her emotions and intentions to the point her form nearly blurs across his vision.

“That remains to be seen. How about you let me try?” Her words are light and airy, intentionally being falsely sweet. Douchebag’s alcohol-soaked brain doesn’t pick up on the trap he’s about to fall into. Taehyung is thrilled. “Did it hurt?” she asks, batting her eyelashes at him. “Did what hurt?” Douchebag asks, teeth sinking into his bottom lip in what he surely believes is a sexy manner, but Taehyung thinks it comes off more like he’s constipated. “Me kneeing you in the balls.”

The words accompany the action. Her right knee comes up, and all Taehyung can see from this angle is the sudden doubling over of Douchebag. He sways heavily to the side, unsteady on his feet, as the woman pushes by him, a triumphant smile half-hidden behind a hand as she disappears into the crowd.

“How clever,” Taehyung muses to himself. He spares one last glance at the man still cupping the front of his jeans before following the tug of intrigue that’s swiftly escaping on 6-inch heels. He catches sight of the woman just as she slips out the front entrance of the bar.

It’s easy to pick her out on the sidewalk. Even if it weren’t for the distinct click-clack of her shoes on the pavement, he’d be able to follow her by sheer feeling alone. It’s been decades since he’s felt someone so clearly, so viscerally. Taehyung can’t stop until his curiosity has been satiated.

The woman doesn’t hail a taxi or head toward a railway station. She only goes a few city blocks down before she cuts across the street, her eyes flicking both ways as she crosses to the luxury apartment building on the corner.

Taehyung catches the flash of a sleek black and red card as she passes the porter. “Evening, ma’am.” The guard gives her a nod before bringing his attention back to the sidewalk.

There can only be one place that card gains her access to—the top floor penthouse. Taehyung gives the surrounding block a cursory glance, looking for the perfect vantage point. He appraises the angle of the top floor windows before skirting around the back of the building and quickly vaulting over the security fence. If his presence raises an alarm, he’s unaware of it as no one appears to question him.

It’s typical of these kinds of places. There is plenty of security on the front side, with no open windows and no direct buildings across that will allow someone to peep in on the residence. But, on the backside, past all the lavish greenery and the immaculate tennis and basketball courts? Taehyung glances up at the zigzag of the fire escape on the building directly behind the condominium highrise. Just as he expected, all it will take is him climbing the iron platforms, and he’ll have the perfect view through the backside of the penthouse.

He begins his ascent, easily pulling himself up and over the railing of the fire escape and making quick work of the several stories until he lines himself with the one he needs. The condominium is a few floors shorter than the building he’s scaling, making it even more comical that there is so little thought put into the security back here. Anyone worth their merit could do precisely what he’s doing. It’s laughable…and alarming.

Settling in on the fire escape platform of the eighth floor, he glances around to be sure whoever is attached to this particular landing won’t stumble across him somehow. The curtains over the windows are drawn, with no lights coming from within. Taking a calming breath of the tepid night air, he dangles his feet over the edge of the platform and rests his arms on one of the support bars of the railing.

Unsurprisingly, he made it up here faster than the woman, who he presumes must have taken the elevator. He’s always been known for his speed, even more so when he’s on the prowl for something. He might have lost his wings, but he’s kept nearly everything else: speed, heightened senses, and a penchant for picking up on the emotions of others. It’s insufferable, being neither mortal nor fully immortal, but a mockery of something in between.

From his vantage point, he can only see the penthouse’s elaborate sprawl of patio, the pool, and the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows that make up the entire back wall. The inside is dark save for the soft blue LED lights from the sleek kitchen appliances and an under-glow along the bottom of what he assumes is a flatscreen TV on the wall.

A few minutes pass, and then Taehyung watches as the light from the upper elevator lobby spills into the space, illuminating a sliver of the grossly opulent penthouse. The woman flicks a switch on a panel on the wall by the entry, and the living space floods with bright, white light. Everything is modern, with sleek lines and glaring metal.

Confusion makes Taehyung tuck his bottom lip between his teeth as he tries to connect the decadent, vivacious creature that the woman is with such a jarring and emotionless space. It doesn’t make sense. Unless…

Taehyung smiles as he watches the woman pull out a black leather billfold from where it is hidden in her cleavage. She flips it open, briefly thumbing through the thick wad of cash and the pockets dense with credit cards. Even from this distance, with his heightened vision, he can clearly make out the license behind the plastic pocket. The smiling face belongs to none other than Douchebag from the bar. She picked his pocket. Taehyung can’t help but laugh with delight.

And now Taehyung is almost sure he knows why the penthouse doesn’t look like it belongs to her. It excites him to consider the prospect of finally getting an inkling of the mysterious puzzle that this goddess has become for him. In fact, he’s reasonably certain if he waits just a little bit longer, it will be confirmed.

A noise Taehyung can’t hear must draw her attention because she shoves the wallet back into her cleavage before spinning around. The door to the penthouse swings open, revealing a well-dressed businessman with a slimy grin on his face. Taehyung hopes all the more that he’s right about his guess.

The familiarity the man has with the place says it all. He tosses a set of keys onto the table by the entryway and toes off his brown leather brogues while undoing the buttons of his brown and cream tweed jacket. The jacket gets hung up in a closet, though the man’s eyes never leave the woman standing in the open living space. Her back is to Taehyung, so he can only guess that she’s speaking to the man with how he reacts and how attentive he’s being.

A predatory smile slowly forms on the man’s face as he advances on the woman. She stands her ground, her shoulders rolling slightly back as her chin tilts up. Before the man can grab her, she deftly moves to the side and pointedly directs herself to a wet bar across the living room. The man laughs, though it is silent to Taehyung’s ears, the thick double-paned glass proving to be more than even his hearing can work through.

It plays out like a silent comedy before Taehyung: the man gabs on, gesturing animatedly with his hands, probably boasting about his latest business conquest. At the same time, the woman remains silent, pouring him a finger of scotch. What the man doesn’t notice, for all his attention being focused mainly on himself, is the small packet of powder the woman produces that ends up tipped into the scotch glass.

She turns with a false smile on her face, offering the drink to the man. He takes it with a flourish and downs all the contents in one gulp. Carelessly tossing the glass to the side, where it lands on the leather sofa, he reaches for her again, only to come up short as he stumbles. He’s on his knees before he can right himself, a look of pure bewildered confusion on his face before his eyes roll into the back of his head, and he pitches forward in a heavy heap.

Taehyung smiles, his curiosity doubling as he tries to piece together what might happen next. What started as a bit of entertainment at the bar has come full circle into a spectacular show that Taehyung is grateful he has a front-row seat to. Maybe he’s finally getting a break after nearly one hundred years of searching. Perhaps this is his path back into the Arms of Grace…or the failure that will seal his fate in the 9th Circle. He sighs, resting his chin on his forearm where it’s draped over the support bar of the railing, and waits patiently.

🤍🤍🤍

Roy Simmons is an arrogant pig; there’s no doubt about that. Even passed out the way he is with his mouth open and drool beginning to drip from the corner of his lips, he still looks every bit like an asshole, which is precisely why you’re doing what you’re doing. He’s just the next rung on a long ladder of revenge.

This is your third time coming to Roy’s place. The first was to establish contact, the second was simply to dig your claws into him a little more, and now you’re ready for the grand finale. But, it’s not like you want to be here, not really. It’s just a means to an end. Well, multiple endings. It puts a stop to creeps like Roy from hurting innocent people, but it also puts you one step closer, the final step really, to him—Lorren Bianchi, the man responsible for the death of your best friend, Danika.

She died two years ago at the hands of Bianchi. It was supposed to be a routine night, just something to earn a little extra money as Danika put herself through nursing school. She had become an escort; nothing serious, just being arm candy for rich men. But, it went sideways…really sideways when she met Lorren Bianchi. The man put a leash around Danika’s neck and never let her go. It still pains you to think about it. The only balm to ease the ache is the prospect of watching him suffer the way she did.

Roy works for Bianchi. As have all the other losers you’ve sunk your teeth into over the last two years. They’re all part of the same end game. You’re climbing your own corporate ladder of sorts; one built from blackmail and seething hate. Speaking of which, you turn back to Roy, shoving his shoulder with your heel until he rolls over onto his back.

Grabbing his wrists, you heave and jerk until you manage to drag him across the floor and into the adjoining main bedroom. This penthouse is the one he uses when he wants a night away from his wife, which is more often than not. You know he gave her an excuse tonight of working late so he’d just crash at his downtown place before coming home tomorrow morning for the weekend.

It makes you feel bad thinking about the woman who attached herself to such a despicable man and how you’ve knowingly slept with her husband. But, it’s honestly the leverage you need to take Roy down. You know they signed a hefty prenup, required by her father when they got married. The perks of coming from another well-to-do business family, you suppose. If something happens, she walks away with over half his money and holdings in the business. He would go from being in the top ten wealthiest men in the city to just another blip on the radar. Which is why you know he’ll crack; he’ll give you exactly what you want.

Maneuvering him onto the bed is nearly as tricky as it is to strip off his clothing. You think maybe you should have waited to drug him until he was already naked and on the bed, but hindsight is twenty-twenty. Finally, once you’ve gotten him positioned into the middle of the bed, his pasty, fleshy body spread eagle, you dig for the restraints you know he has installed in the posts. You tighten them around his ankles and wrists, perhaps a little tighter than they should go, but you can’t find it in you to care; let him hurt.

Because he’s a sick fuck, you know there is also video recording equipment in the closet. The asshole has an entire box full of discs labeled with not names, no, but features. Big tits, round ass, blue eyes, braids, chin dimple…the list goes on, each DVD with their own scrawl in permanent marker. You stumbled across them the second time you were here when you managed to put him into a drunken stupor to the point he passed out in the shower, leaving you to snoop.

You were looking for anything that might hold a list of his personal contacts. In the end, you found that and so much more, which is why you bumped up your finale for Mr. Simmons. The sooner you take him down, the quicker his grubby hands stay to himself, and he can’t lure in any more unsuspecting women.

Grabbing the tripod from the closet, you position your phone on the contraption, angling it to get a full view of the bed. As you stand there, assessing your work, you get a weird tingling sensation between your shoulder blades. Oddly, you feel like you’re being watched. Though, you know, being in the penthouse, that should be impossible. There is no building directly behind the condominium.

No matter how much you twitch your shoulders and tell yourself to ignore the sensation, it won't disappear. So, to humor yourself, you turn and peer out the floor-to-ceiling windows that make up the back wall of the bedroom. The glass stretches across the entire backside, broken up only by the backdoor and the vertical supports between each giant pane.

All you can see is the back patio. The lip of the pool is just barely visible, highlighted by the twinkling fairy lights strung around the garden. The closest building is easily a city block and a half away, with enough room for tennis and basketball courts to separate the condominium property and the next building. It would only be possible for someone to be watching you if they had some sort of telephoto lens or something.

But that would mean Roy knew, or someone else figured it out and had been following you. Which, at this point, let them watch. You have enough evidence to bury half the city as it is. What you’re doing might be illegal; blackmailing someone is never smiled upon, you don’t think. However, you’re confident you’d get a clap on the back for a job well done instead of a clap on the wrist with a bit of metal.

Roy begins to groan and shift around on the bed. Which means it’s showtime.

You click the button to record as soon as he utters, “What the fuck?” Only it comes out half coherent and accompanied by a generous dribble of saliva down his chin. It would be just like him to look like a blubbering man-baby as he comes to. He’s whimpering between mutters, finally gaining enough coherency to realize what’s happening.

“Hello, Roy,” you say, drawing his attention to where you stand behind the tripod holding your phone.

“Ginger,” Roy sighs what he believes is your name, in relief. “Ginger, baby, what are you up to? Is this some new kink you want to try out? I have to say, I don’t know if I’m a fan.” He chuckles nervously, tugging at the restraints. “Loosen these for me, will you, baby?”

“What’s the matter, Roy, don’t like being the helpless one?”

He smirks, tugging more, trying to sit up. The ties are tight, leaving little slack for him to move much other than his central bulk. His hips flex, the flabby meat of his stomach jiggling as he wiggles around. “Okay, baby, I’ll bite. What do I gotta do to get you to take these off?”

“Do you remember what we did last weekend?” you muse softly, laying the first layer of the trap.

Roy gives you an appreciative up and down. “You mean when I shoved your face in the pillow and pounded your sassy little tail until you screamed? Or how about when I shoved my cock so far down your throat that you gagged?”

You internally roll your eyes, not wanting to break character just yet. “Sure, Roy, what else?”

“Let’s see. Oh, can’t forget how I sprayed my cum all over those pretty tits of yours before I made you rub it into your skin.” The flaccid appendage between his thighs gives a jerk. “That was probably my favorite part.”

Your skin crawls at the memory. You nearly scalded yourself in the shower once you got home, turning the water so hot it made you cry out, and the heat lingered long after. “I’m not the first, though, am I? The first you’ve done all that with, I mean.”

“Awe, Ginger, baby, all those other women meant nothing to me. You’re my favorite. Now, let me show you just how much I love that tight body of yours. Untie me.”

You step to the side of the tripod, and Roy’s eyes light up in triumph. “Hmm...I don’t think I will. Not until you give me what I want, at least.”

Roy wiggles his hips. “Come take what you want, baby.”

You can’t help but laugh, the peeling litany echoing through the room as you give in to the dark humor of the situation. “Oh, Roy, that’s hilarious. You could be a comedian.”

The smile slowly leeches from his face, and lines appear between his brows as he narrows them. “What the hell are you going on about? Untie me. Now.”

“It’s simple, Roy. The last thing I want is your wimpy dick. Once was enough and quite pitiful, I might add. Though, while we’re on the subject of sticking your dick in places, why don’t you say ‘hello’ to Miriam and explain to her why we’re even having this particular conversation?” You nod at the phone on the tripod.

He pales, sweat popping up along his receding hairline. “You’re lying.”

“Oh, how I wish I were,” you say, reciting off Miriam’s phone number to prove how much you’re not. “All I have to do is hit send, Roy, and you can kiss seventy-five percent of your assets goodbye. Prenups are a bitch, huh? If I’m not mistaken, part of it specifically says no affairs or adultery of any kind. Hell, with that, she might even try to take more than that for simply being the disgusting asshole that you are.”

His struggle stops, and you can audibly hear him swallow. “What do you want from me?” he asks, licking his trembling lips.

You reach back and turn off the recording, quickly sending it off to several different places, so you have copies just in case. You tell Roy just as much, giving him a pointed look when he tries to open his mouth to protest. “What I want is very simple, Roy,” you begin before laying it all out for him. His eyes grow wide as you explain, shaking his head in protest with each additional request until you’re almost sure tears are gathering in his eyes.

“That’s impossible,” he whispers thickly.

“You better hope it’s not, for your own sake.” You grab your phone and turn to leave, knowing the maid will find him when she comes by to clean in the morning. “Oh, and Roy?” You glance back over your shoulder at him, “Don’t do anything stupid, like trying to find a way out of this. You deliver, or I do.” You shake your phone, waving it at him as a reminder of what you have.

🤍🤍🤍

Taehyung

In all his years among mortals, he’s never found himself so wholly and utterly intrigued. There have been instances, especially in the early years of his exile, where he found himself hounding after anyone who even remotely seemed like a redemption opportunity. He salivated at the prospect of serving his time and swiftly regaining his wings.

Heavens Above, there was even a time when Taehyung thought perhaps if he could find a damned soul and deliver them as soon as possible, it would curry favor with his Brothers, and they would welcome him back sooner than his one-hundred prospected years. He gave up that pipe dream around the twenty-year mark.

It’s not that he’s grown to enjoy the mortal plane, not exactly. There’s just something freeing about being able to live a little and breathe deeper without worrying about stepping on toes or crossing some divine line drawn in the sand. These thoughts are kept personal, of course.

Taehyung knows if his Brothers ever caught wind of his musings and the way he’s grown to resent them over the years, they’d slam the Pearly Gates and throw away the key along with his wings, which are probably covered in dust and molting away in a corner somewhere. That phantom itch comes alive once more, lingering heat and pain web across his shoulders before he can stop it.

Directing his focus back on the woman, he watches as she saunters from the room, all haughty confidence and severity. It’s not until she’s out of sight of the pitiful man on the bed that her shoulders droop like there’s a heavy weight bearing down on them. He can see it now, something he was distracted from before; there is a haggardness around her bright eyes and a tightness around the curve of her lips.

A sensation he hasn’t felt since—well, since one hundred years ago—twists in his chest as he watches her dig through the coat closet by the door. Taehyung’s brows draw down as she pulls out a backpack and stands there staring down at it. The fact she’s lingering in the penthouse worries him. He’s unsure what she’s doing or what the bag is for. She didn’t come in with anything that he could see, no purse or clutch. Spinning on her heel, she marches back to the bedroom, startling the man on the bed. He starts to yell at her, Taehyung thinks, based on how wide his mouth opens and how red he grows in the face.

It’s comical, watching the man cut off whatever he’s saying and nearly swallow his tongue when the woman holds up her phone threateningly. Taehyung wasn’t sure what was going on at first, but he’s slowly been putting together the pieces, he believes.

She moves to the closet, stooping down to the point Taehyung can only see the red bottoms of her heels and the barest hint of the curve of her ass. He swallows hard, tucking away the tempting thought that springs up with that appraisal. Sexual deviance is what landed him where he is. It’s a fine line to walk, which he’s mostly avoided for the last hundred years.

A few moments later, she emerges from the closet, the backpack bulging. The man closes his eyes, his lips pressed into a trembling line as she moves back across the room and exits once again. This time, she doesn’t stop, swiftly making her escape through the front door.

Taehyung looks down, contemplating how long it’ll take him to descend and make it back to the front side of the building in time to catch the woman coming out. He stands up, lightly brushing his hands along his slacks, and absently smoothes his white dress shirt. He might have dressed a little more appropriately if he had known he was going on such an adventure tonight. As it is, the suede Tom Ford loafers on his feet have acquired some scuffs and unsightly stains.

Before he can lament over his shoes anymore, he quickly makes his way down the zig-zag of the fire escape. Taking his time, he traverses the condominium grounds and easily climbs back over the fence before leisurely strolling down the service alley and onto the sidewalk just as the front door swings open and the porter bids a good evening to the goddess. If the porter finds it odd she is leaving with a bag she didn’t go in with, he doesn’t mention it.

Following a dozen feet behind, Taehyung watches as the woman slings the backpack over a shoulder and takes off at a brisk pace down the sidewalk. Again, she doesn’t hail a taxi or head toward a railway station. She either lives nearby or perhaps has an ulterior motive to avoiding those places in particular.

Considering his long legs and stride, it doesn’t take much to keep up with her. The heels slow her down considerably as well, but Taehyung also realizes that she’s on the slighter side, height mostly being attributed to said shoes, it seems. It’s hard not to watch her body bounce and sway because of them, too. They cause an exaggerated sway to her hips, which already seem quite daring on their own.

Clearing his throat, he forces himself to think of something other than her hips, like what’s in that bag that was so important she chose to go back into that bedroom. Taehyung’s curiosity doesn’t need to last long as she turns down the next cross street and approaches a nondescript apartment building. There is no porter out front, just a simple iron gate in front of a quaint garden that she gains access through with a keycode.

If he were anyone else, he would miss the code completely, being several yards behind her. But he’s not anyone else; he’s Taehyung—a fallen angel complete with heightened senses, including eyesight. 1306, and he has just as much access as she does. Perhaps it should feel like a violation of her privacy, but considering what he witnessed her doing earlier, he feels it’s mildly justified. Now, to just get a little closer.

“Hello? Excuse me?” Taehyung calls out, shoving his hand in his pocket and grabbing whatever his fingers close around. He glances at his hand, noting the two rumpled one hundred dollar bills now pinched in his fingers. “I believe you dropped these just a moment ago as you crossed the street.”

Cool, calculating eyes flick over him before landing on the proffered bills. She didn’t drop them, but if anything he’s observed proves helpful, he’s reasonably sure she’ll take the bills–the bait–anyway.

Her appraising gaze settles on his eyes for a moment as if she’s trying to gauge whether or not he’s a threat before they dip to the money again. She hesitates only a second, long enough that Taehyung knows she’s far more competent than he gave her credit for. She’s cautious, which is good.

“Hm,” she softly hums. “So I did. Thank you.”

The touch of her skin against his is electric, a zing that he’s experienced a few times over the last century. It’s the feel of a soul on the brink of disaster, a subtle taste of darkness lingering around her edges. Taehyung doesn’t immediately release the bills, wanting to brand the feel of her fingers brushing alongside his for as long as possible.

“You’re welcome…” he trails off, raising his brows and tilting his chin in question.

“Ginger,” she offers, a fake smile straining her lips as she gives a sharp tug to the money, pulling it from his fingers.

The name grates, sliding over his mind like razors. A lie; of course she would give a false name. It’s poised on the tip of his tongue to call her bluff, to implore for her real name, but he knows he needs to tread lightly with this one.

“Ginger,” he repeats, the name pinching his tongue with the lie. “Charmed. I’m Taehyung, Kim,” he tacks on to see if the name might trigger something for her.

Her eyes flick over him once more, what might be mistaken as recognition flashing in their depths. “Yeah, okay. Thanks again, Taehyung. Have a good evening.”

It’s a dismissal. He knows that and can sense the unease that’s thrumming from her body, so he relents. Stepping back, he nods his head and makes to go back down the sidewalk from the direction he approached. “You, too,” he calls over his shoulder to the already empty sidewalk.

Taehyung stops just shy of the next building, listening to the telltale signs that she’s gone in. The soft snick of metal, the hushed tap of her heels over the front welcome mat, the equally quiet click of the door opening, and her murmured “fucking hell” before she steals away beyond it.

It’s easy to follow, punching in the four-digit code he observed. “Seventh floor,” Taehyung murmurs to himself as he watches the digital display above the elevator stop. It’s fitting, he thinks, considering she was just on the seventh floor of that highrise, binding that businessman to the bed. Maybe seven is her lucky number. He hopes so; he’s partial to it himself.

🤍🤍🤍

Tonight could have gone much better, but it wasn’t a complete disaster either. An easy smirk slides onto your face when you toss the two hundred dollars on the dining table. “What a fucking idiot,” you muse to yourself, proceeding to drop off your other winnings for the night. Douchebag’s wallet makes a satisfying thud on the glass surface, thick with cash and untold possibilities. “If you wanted to give up two just to say ‘hi’, I won’t complain.” Though there is something you feel you should know, something about his name almost seemed familiar.

You shrug and turn your attention to everything else. Fingering the zipper on the backpack sobers you quickly, the random encounter downstairs disappearing from your thoughts completely. The DVD collection is far less enjoyable of a prize tonight. It’s daunting to think about how long it will take to try and track down the victims. Because that’s what they are to you. Even if they knew about the recordings, which you’re certain most didn’t, it still feels like a gross violation that Roy hoarded them like sick treasures.

“So itchy,” you grump, grabbing a fistful of the stark auburn curls atop your head. With achingly slow movements, you ease the wig away. The tape and glue tug, but with a practiced hand, you finally get it off with minimal irritation. It joins the pile on the table, to be dealt with when you have more energy. Right now, all you want is a shower and your bed.

You don’t bother turning on any of the lights, intimately comfortable in your own space that you can navigate it with your eyes closed. Abandoning your heels by the table, you shrug out of the body-hugging dress, leaving it in a puddle somewhere between the living room and your bedroom, and make your way to the bathroom.

All you want to do is take a shower and fall into a near-comatose state for the next twenty-four hours while you wait for Roy to deliver. The shower part goes well; the hot water helps to relax the anxiety and tension that seem to reside permanently in your shoulders.

However, once you slip beneath the duvet and close your eyes for sleep, your body feels like it’s high-strung with electricity. Restlessness hums beneath your skin. Not wanting to spend the next several hours trying to convince your body it needs sleep, you feel around in the side drawer of your nightstand until you find what you want.

The sleeping pills go down dry; you don’t have the energy to get up and grab a glass of water. Now, to just wait for them to take effect. You fuss with the edge of the duvet, folding the fabric and rubbing it between your fingers over and over. The goosedown and satin set is one of the only luxuries you’ve allowed yourself over the last two years. It’s not that you’re punishing yourself. You just don’t want to waste extra time or energy on creature comforts when so much still needs to be done.

Your chest aches every time you stop to think about Danika. She would berate you for spending so much time focused on her rather than going out there and living your life. You just can’t help it; in many ways, you feel responsible for what happened. Sure, you didn’t make Lorren Bianchi kill her, but you might as well have delivered her right into his murderous hands.

It was your idea to sign up for the escort service, swearing it was just for fun and extra money; that surely all those movies and shows were just being dramatic for cinematic reasons. Oh, how you wish that were the case.

Not a single day goes by that you don’t think about how much you wish it were just an exaggeration. The icing on the cake, though? Lorren was supposed to be your client. But you got your schedule mixed up and overbooked yourself that night. Danika said she could use the extra cash and volunteered to take the commitment.

Everything changed after that. Lorren poured thousands of dollars into wining and dining Danika over the next few months. She slowly started to pull away, spending time with him even outside the allotted dates scheduled with the service.

Then, one day, you woke up, and she hadn’t returned to your shared apartment. It was excruciating waiting an entire twenty-four hours before calling the cops and an even worse week waiting for them to do something. They never did. It wasn’t until a month after you first reported her missing that something happened. Her body was found, floating down the Los Angeles River just outside Burbank. Strangled, tossed out with the trash.

You’ll never forget being called in to identify her remains. Danika had no family, just you. Her parents moved to the States from Russia when she was just a few years old. They both passed the summer before sophomore year in high school, putting her in the foster system. You met her freshman year of college. She was your dorm mate and started off so quiet and reserved. Little did you know she was just trying not to fall apart on the inside.

One night, you came in late from a cram session in the library to find her crying, sitting in the middle of the floor with faded family photos arrayed around her. She tried to apologize and beg off talking, but you slowly coaxed her into opening up. You had been inseparable ever since.

It’s not fair. She was far too young and had so much more to give in life. Graduation was just around the corner when it all came crumbling down. You try to summon the memory of her laugh, just to have something to cling to, but it’s muted as your thoughts grow fuzzy. The memories fade, and the pain and ache from the loss of Danika washed away on a pill-laden sleep.

🤍🤍🤍

Taehyung

It’s been two hours since you–his goddess–disappeared upstairs. He doesn’t stop to think about how he’s already considering you to be his; it just feels right. And who is he to question that? Taehyung has long since stopped sending up prayers; they are never answered anyway. However, for some reason, he finds himself taking a moment to center himself, which consists of a quick mutterance of peace. It’ll have to do.

There are four units on the seventh floor. But it’s easy enough to guess which belongs to you. Two of the doors are decorated in full-blown holiday decor, bright colors and themed welcome mats. He doesn’t have to know you deeply to understand that’s not your style. The last two are more similar. Though, the closer he looks, the more evident it is which unit is yours, considering the ‘BYOB, bring your own babes’ welcome mat situated in front of one. For some reason, he doesn’t think that’s quite your style, either. The far more plain, yet inviting, ‘welcome’ is his guess.

The lock on the door is easy to pick. There is no security, no cameras or electronic keypads, which would ruffle his feathers—if he still had them. He’ll have to address that later, once he’s established himself within your life somehow.

The door to your apartment opens on silent hinges once he slides the small set of tools back into his wallet. They’re something he took to carrying around after locking himself out of his own place one too many times. A key is so easily lost, such a small, tedious, and fumbly little thing; even tucked in his wallet, it would often fall out.

Taehyung doesn’t have friends, per se, so it’s not like he can let someone hang on to a spare for him. He used to luxuriate in the solitude, spending countless hours sequestered behind closed doors as a means to reflect on his actions and seek repentance. Now, though, he realizes he’s grown quite lonely—no time like the present to change that.

Closing the door just as softly behind him, he toes off his shoes and takes in the space around him. He can tell instantly that he was right in this being your place, it smells of you. It’s not as lavish or garishly expensive as the penthouse was, but it’s also relatively devoid of personality. There is no permanence to the place. Very minimal, and as if you could easily pick up one moment and be gone without a thought of much effort.

So, you’re a runner. Or some close equivalent. That could prove troublesome for him if you decide to pick up and move off now that whatever game you were playing with the sleazeball from the penthouse seems to be done. He’s not sure how easy it would be for him to track you. So, he now wonders, is there anything else keeping you here? He hopes to find the answer to that somewhere among your scant things.

It doesn’t take long to browse through the kitchen and the living room. There are only a few dishes in the cabinets, nothing fancy, just the basics. There is a sofa in the living room and a small flatscreen TV sitting on the floor. The thin layer of dust sitting on the remote lets him know you don’t spend your free time keeping up with the latest TV drama.

The space is minimally furnished, but there is still a class to it. It’s a newer building, and the living area is expansive compared to most places in the city proper. The dining table sits between the kitchen and living room, holding the only items that seem to be remotely interesting.

Taehyung recognizes the backpack and the billfold. Derrek Lanier, a fitting name for Douchebag. He sets the wallet back down, going for the bag next. It’s filled with DVD cases; the matte covers all sporting white stickers with handwritten titles. However, titles are a loose interpretation of what these seem to be. The labels all just list physical features instead of proper names. Taehyung almost wishes he had visited the penthouse after you left. This isn’t painting a pretty picture for the guy.

Before his anger can get the best of him and make him abandon this in favor of doing just that, his eye catches on a pile of red fluffy curls sitting behind the backpack. He fingers a ringlet, holding back a chuckle when he realizes it’s a wig. It's a very fine, quality wig. He’s pleasantly surprised. What other astounding things do you have waiting for him? He’s even more eager to get to your bedroom now.

The hardwood floor is cold under his socked feet as they whisper down the hall. There are three doors, two closed and one ajar. Peeking into the open door, he gives the bathroom a once over. It’s clean, smelling lightly of floral body wash with an underlying burn of bleach.

Taking his chance on the first closed door, he slowly turns the knob and pushes it open. The room beyond is empty, completely devoid of furniture or belongings. The air feels stale, like the room is never used, perhaps even forgotten. He’s just about to turn and close the door when he notices that the closet door of the room is not closed all the way.

Perhaps it's his curiosity about why the door is open when no one is clearly using this room, or maybe it’s a sixth sense Taehyung has that draws him to it. But he gnaws his bottom lip for a moment before stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. He approaches the closet tentatively, readying himself for disappointment.

The click of the light switch sounds muted in comparison to the gasp he emits when light floods the small space of the closet. If he weren’t so distracted, he might have cursed himself for being so careless like that.

“Hells Fire,” he whispers, taking in the four walls completely covered in pictures, sticky notes, and sheets of paper.

It’s like something straight out of a crime show. He’s wiled away enough hours consuming that kind of brain rot to know. The only thing missing is the red yarn stretching between push pins connecting the scatter of photos.

It’s a murder board. That much is clear, though. Some of the images have red Xs drawn on them. Looking close enough, he recognizes some of the faces—well-to-do businessmen, just like the one from tonight. There are a few scanner copies of autopsy reports and some X-ray photos, though none look masculine. As far as he’s aware, none of these men have died. They’re all still very much alive and still very wealthy.

So, maybe not a murder board…but what?

Pulling out his phone, Taehyung takes a few photos of the display, hoping to be able to spend more time deciphering it when he’s not sneaking around your apartment with the risk of getting caught.

A small cardboard box sits in a corner. Taehyung peels back one of the flaps, peeking inside. There are two pictures, both in frames, a small wooden jewelry box, and a deflated Valentine balloon still attached to the plastic stick.

Grabbing one of the frames, Taehyung squints at the grainy, dated photo. It’s of a man and a woman, the sepia tones indicating its age. There is some water damage along the edges, as if the image were saved from a damp space before being put into the simple black frame.

The other frame is more stylish, reminiscent of the 90s, with rainbow flowers and smiley faces around the rim. He recognizes one of the two girls in the picture. At least, he believes it’s a younger version of you. The girl has the same eyes, if more full of life, and the same mouth, just less severe.

The girls are laughing, arms wrapped around each other as they face the camera. Taehyung can’t help but smile as he looks at it. Their joy infectious even through a snapshot like this. He brushes a finger over your smile before letting his digit swipe over the platinum blond hair of the other girl. Her twinkling blue eyes pour into the camera, holding a vibrancy that speaks of a careless and loving attitude.

A line forms between Taehyung's brows. The longer he looks at the photo, the more it sparks a recollection. Straightening from where he was crouching down beside the box, he holds up the picture and looks from it to the wall and back again–searching.

Dread, a cold trickle, seeps down his spine when he realizes why the girl looks familiar. Looking closer, he compares the black and white photocopy from the autopsy report to the smiling blonde in the frame. It’s easier to connect the dots now. Clearly, something happened to this girl—Danika Petrov, according to the report—and you’re out for revenge of some sort.

Shaking his head, Taehyung takes a quick shot of the photo in his hand before returning it to the box and turning out the light. He’s learned a lot, far more than he thought he would. There’s a lot to mull over. But first, he has one more place he wishes to explore before he leaves.

Taehyung is extra quiet as he eases the door open to your bedroom. It’s just as devoid of things as everywhere else. Your bed sits against one wall, centered between two heavily curtained windows. The mound in the middle of the bed calls to him. But, first things first, a look around so he doesn’t miss anything with the distraction.

There is no bathroom attached, just a walk-in closet that holds scant clothing and shoes. The single bedside table has a phone, lamp, and a white pill bottle sitting on it. Upon closer inspection, Taehyung sees that the bottle is sleeping pills. It makes him curious about what kind of nightmares you have in order to need assistance sleeping. With everything he’s seen so far, he doesn’t have to imagine much.

Easing open the small drawer on the nightstand, he smiles in triumph. Peeking out under the corner of some miscellaneous items, a blank notepad, pen, hair ties, tweezers, and a tube of lip balm, he sees the edge of a passport. Delicately extracting the tiny book, he flips it open and beholds the most coveted information he could have hoped to find.

There, displayed before him, is all your information. Your legal name–well, that is unless this is a fake, and at which, if it is, then Taehyung has to admit it’s a damn good fake–date of birth, birthplace, it’s all the basics he needs.

Movement on the bed beside him makes him freeze, not even daring to breathe as you roll over and unconsciously push the duvet down around your waist. You sleep in the nude. Of course you do. Taehyung swallows thickly, eyes glued to your sleeping form. It’s like you’re begging him to screw this up, to make a mistake.

Biting his tongue until he tastes the tang of blood, he tears his gaze away from your pebbling nipples and deftly replaces the passport, making his escape back into your living room. He’s breathing hard, heart beating erratically in his chest. The front of his trousers is tight, uncomfortable, as he battles against his baser desires.

You’d think being a holy being would mean he had better control over these things. Apparently, Angels–even fallen ones–are just as culpable of unholy thoughts as humans—guilt twists in his chest. It’s things like this that are what landed him here, to begin with.

Shoving aside the intruding thoughts and feelings, he smoothes a hand down the front of his dress shirt before shoving his feet back into his shoes. Now, he has an idea of who you are and what your game is. He just needs to figure out how to make himself a part of it—starting with finding out more about Danika; she seems to be central to your motivations, and now she’s part of his.

🤍🤍🤍

It’s disconcerting to wake up and feel like someone has invaded your space. Yet, nothing is amiss no matter where you look or how hard you try to find something. It’s similar to what you felt last night in Roy’s penthouse, that itch between your shoulder blades like someone had eyes on you, except now it feels like they’re beneath your skin; just a breath away.

Chalking it up to a bad trip with the sleeping pills, you carry on with your day. You have a lot to do and little time to accomplish it.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite vigilante. To what do I owe this pleasure, Ging?” Ryan’s sleep-rough voice crackles through the line of the burner phone you’re using.

“Morning, Ry. Put the pot on. I’ll be over in a few. Got something for you to sink your teeth into.”

Before he can respond, you disconnect the call, knowing he’ll be far too curious to turn you away when you show up at his door. Ryan Weller is as close to a friend as you’ve got these days. He’s been a good guy to you over the years, always treated you like a little sister, the same as he treated Danika. They were fostered together after her parents passed. When she died, you were all each other had left of her, a sort of pseudo lifeline to Danika—you both refuse to let go.

It only takes twenty minutes to walk to Ryan’s place. You pull on some jeans and a t-shirt, grab the backpack and wallet, and lock up on your way out. As your key slides out of the knob, you can’t help but stop and brush your thumb over the smooth brass handle. It looks the same as it always has…except, does it feel looser? You jiggle the knob and then shake your head, puffing out your cheeks. Your paranoia must be getting the best of you.

Slinging the backpack over your shoulder, you hit the call button for the elevator. The street is bustling, just a typical Saturday morning for this area. It wasn’t your first choice of places to live, but after Danika, you needed to get away from the apartment you shared but also wanted to situate yourself closer to the wolves you’d be hunting.

Ryan lives in the area by choice, having moved there almost a year before Danika was lost. He’s not the typical well-to-do-business guy, but he makes plenty of money as a private investigator. Or, at least, that’s what the placard on his door says he is. Considering what he does for you, you know it’s not all on the books or legal, which is just fine by you.

You don’t bother knocking, knowing Ryan will have unlocked the door for you already. His space is open-concept, all the rooms–sans the bath and bedrooms–bleeding together. The windows along the back wall are open, letting in a flood of daylight that dapples the space in warmth. He’s waiting for you in the kitchen, cup of coffee in hand. “What do we have this time?”

Dropping the backpack on the floor beside the dining table, you gesture at his laptop that’s already sitting open on the surface and set the wallet beside it. “Some money for you, for starters. And this,” you nudge the bag with your foot, “has videos of about a dozen girls I’d like you to try and track down using your magic machine.”

“Magic machine?” he asks, raising a bright strawberry-blond eyebrow.

Ryan is conventionally attractive, with natural russet highlights feathered through his wheat-colored hair and charming moss-green eyes, with a straight aristocratic nose sitting above perfect bow-shaped lips. If he were anyone other than who he is, he might have been someone you’d pursue. As it is, though, the thought of Ryan like that gives you the ick. He looks like a model; his grey sweats and a crimson jersey knit top belong in some Abercrombie ad for loungewear.

“Coffee first,” you whine, making grabby hands toward the cup he’s holding. “Then I’ll explain.”

Ryan laughs, handing off the cup and grabbing another for himself. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the only reason you ever come by to visit is for my coffee and to ask favors.” His tone is light, joking…but it hits a little too close to an uncomfortable truth. You can’t remember the last time you bothered to ask Ryan about something not Danika-related.

“I know,” you whisper, letting the guilt wash over you. “I’m sorry. It’s just, we’re so close…I’m so close to Bianchi, Ry. I’m so close I can’t stop now. I can’t risk losing momentum. I have to strike while it’s hot, and right now, it’s like the surface of the sun.”

That sobers him, his easy smile slipping from his face—you hate to see it go, the guilt festering even further in your heart, but you can’t let it show, not when it’s imperative you don’t crumble yet.

“Tell me what you need,” he implores, settling at the table where his laptop sits. “Where do we start?”

“Facial recognition is probably best,” you explain, thankful for the transition into more comfortable territory; the one without messy emotions.

Several hours and cups of coffee later, Ryan gets his first break. He sits back in his chair, fingers laced together on top of his head, his green eyes looking bleaker. “It’s not good, Ging, not good at all.” Even though he knows your real name, he still humors you with the persona you’ve adopted for your revenge plan.

“Tell me.”

Ryan sighs, dropping his hands into his lap. “I ran some cross-references just to be sure, but all these girls”—he nods toward the backpack now sitting on the table, disc cases spilling from the opening—“are missing. Every single one. Some of these are a decade old, cold cases at the bottom of some detective's desk at this point.”

The fact Roy Simmons is a monster isn’t a surprise to you. But the news still makes your blood boil. It makes you want to return to Roy’s penthouse and get a little creative with a knife instead of just holding blackmail over his head.

You swallow past the bile in your throat. “Send it. Let him rot.”

Ryan has a contact at the FBI, someone he trusts implicitly—someone who doesn’t know about you and doesn’t ask questions when Ryan dumps some evidence in his lap, either.

“Are you sure?” Ryan asks. “Simmons needs to get his, sure. But aren’t you worried it might alert Bianchi to the fact someone is getting close to him? Especially after what happened with Hurst.”

Sazi Hurst was your target before Roy. He found himself in FBI handcuffs after you told Ryan he could send all the information you scrounged up on him, and it almost cost you your first date with Roy; he was so paranoid after one of his biggest business venture partners ended up in custody, singing like a canary.

You hate the conflicting feelings waging war in your mind right now. The desire to see justice served and give these girls’ families peace weighs heavily against your own need to see this whole thing through to the end, with no mistakes made.

Finally, you relent, “You’re right. Fuck. Okay, give me until the end of next week.”

“You think you’ll get to him that soon?” Ryan gives you a wide-eyed stare, lips parting in surprise.

“As long as Roy gives me what I need. He has until midnight tonight,” you say, glancing at your phone for the time. Just a handful of hours to go. “Oh, did you get my little surprise last night?”

Ryan’s nose wrinkles as he makes a disgusted sound in his throat. “You mean the gross video of the naked pig on the bed? Yeah. I got it alright.”

You nod, satisfied for now. You stand from the table, drop your empty mug off in the sink, and head toward the door. “I’m going to go take care of some stuff.” By that, you mean wallow in a little bit of self-pity before the other shoe drops tonight. “If I don’t get what I need, you’ll take care of it?”

That sweet smile flashes on Ryan’s face once again. “Of course, I will. We’re in this together, Ging. And not even just because of Dani, but because I care about you, too, okay? Be careful out there. Call me if you need me.”

You let that linger between you, choosing not to respond to his kindness. It could be the nerves and how high-strung you are right now, but you know it’s deeper than that. It’s far too dangerous to get so close to someone again, even if it’s Ryan. Keeping him at arms-length when it comes to things of the heart is easier, safer…better that way.

Back on the sidewalk, you decide to stop by your apartment before going on the prowl. Pulling out your phone, you check one of the many fake social media profiles you’ve created to keep tabs on your targets. If you’re lucky, you’ll have a few precious hours to prepare before initiating phase number one of your final mission.

You move on autopilot, letting yourself be swept away by the normalcy of everything around you. The rest of your day is a blur. You’re not even sure what you spent your time doing. It doesn’t matter now; however, all you’re focused on is what’s before you: a closet full of things that will make the perfect disguise tonight.

Two hours later, you find yourself dressed to the nines, wig firmly in place, and a forced smile on your face as you approach the frosted glass door to Liquid Inferno, the city's hottest, most exclusive nightclub. Pulling out the fake golden access card that Ryan made for you, you flash it at the bouncer. The door swings open without so much as a questioning word.

Thumping bass vibrates through the soles of your heels as you zig-zag your way through the pulsing crowd—strobes of different colors flash, the whole place coated in thick neons thanks to the overhead blacklights. The coral mini dress you decided to wear takes on the brightness of a pink highlighter.

What you really want to do right now is head to the bar and order a drink, but you know that’s just the nerves setting in. Instead, you angle your path toward the darkened VIP area on the second floor.

A set of brutish-looking men stand at the bottom of the stairs. The one closest to you gives you a once-over before asking, “Looking to climb into the lap of a king, princess?”

You grit your teeth to keep from snarling at him in response. “Something like that,” you say, letting your words dripping saccharine sweetness as you bat your lashes.

“Sorry, sweetheart, no one is allowed up without a pass.” The other bouncer leers at you, blatantly eyeing your cleavage and the curve of your ass.

You fish into the top of your dress, intentionally shifting around your tits. “Oh, you mean one of these?” you ask, pinching the black VIP card, that you’re glad you had the forethought to nab from Roy’s place, between your thumb and forefinger.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the second guy whistles appreciatively. “Looks like she’s good to go, Mike.”

Mike turns his glare on his counterpart. “I know all VIPs, and she isn’t one.” His focus swings back to you, looking slightly more murderous this time. “Where’d you get it?”

One false move or misspoken word, and you can kiss this chance goodbye, you know that. So, treading carefully, you choose your words in hopes they’ll believe the semi-lie, “Roy Simmons. He gave me his card and told me to meet him here.” You turn the card so the thick, black lettering of Roy’s last name can be seen on the back.

“Roy didn’t mention giving his card to a floozy,” Mike grunts.

You hold up your hands, the card's shiny surface catching in the strobing lights. “I’m just trying to do as I was told.” You enunciate the word ‘told’, layering on extra meaning to it.

A knowing smile curves on the nameless douchebag's lips. “Sounds like Roy to me,” he chuckles, elbowing Mike lightly in the ribs. “Let her up so she doesn’t get in trouble, huh, Mike? Wouldn’t want a pretty little thing like her getting spanked for being a bad girl.”

Mike doesn’t laugh with his partner. He just stares at you with a challenging gleam in his eyes. Finally, he relents, stepping back and snatching the hook that’s holding the velvet rope across the bottom of the stairs.

“First sign of trouble from you, princess, and you’re out on your ass. Got me?”

You give him a subtle nod, demurely dropping your chin as you pass and hurry up the stairs. Cold sweat beads along the nape of your neck, and you feel like you might pass out. There is a small alcove at the top of the stairs, just before the floor opens up to the VIP lounge, and you duck inside to catch your breath.

The side seam of your dress buzzes. You nearly bust the stitching in your haste to pull out your phone. A message from Ryan flashes on the screen.

Let’s have bacon in the morning.

It’s code. Roy Simmons quickly earned the moniker ‘The Pig’, and Ryan has been joking about wanting to eat bacon ever since you put that leg of the plan into motion. Having bacon in the morning means Roy has provided you with what you wanted. Which is perfect; one more loop in the rope you hope to have Bianchi with.

Being here tonight might be a mistake, now that you’re taking a moment to think it through. What you should really be doing is going home and digging through everything Simmons gave up. Yet—you peek out from the alcove, scanning the VIP area—you’re far too close to give up this chance.

You’re generally not so reckless. Getting this close is making you sloppy, you decide, and you can’t have that. Taking a deep breath, you roll your shoulders back and remind yourself why you’re doing this and that you can’t make a mistake—not now, before stepping out of the alcove and into the den of wolves.

Testing the waters tonight can’t hurt…much.

🤍🤍🤍

Taehyung

Following you has been all too easy for Taehyung. His body doesn’t need sleep, so instead of retreating back to his own apartment, he stationed himself outside of yours. It was a surprise to see you leaving so early this morning but an even bigger surprise to see you looking so decidedly normal. You weren’t wearing any fancy clothes, the wig, or painted up with rouge like you had been the night before—yet, you’re still the image of a goddess to him.

Taehyung has decided he likes you more when you’re just being you, not when you’re playing what is obviously a character part. It’s a clever rouse. He’ll grant you that. You’re good; he would have been none the wiser had he not let himself into your space last night.

You were moving fast, and Taehyung nearly lost you a few times as you worked your way toward another apartment building. It was like striking gold when Taehyung could repeat his trick from the night before, scaling the backside of the adjacent building. Only this time, the windows were open, and he could hear everything you and Ryan were discussing.

It’s been a long time since Taehyung tasted the bitter tang of jealousy. It’s a very unbecoming emotion for someone of his stature. Yet, watching how that blond Adonis fawned over you and how comfortable you seemed around him made Taehyung want to chew through the metal railing of the fire escape he was on. He hated seeing you together.

Now, though, you’re alone. Or as alone as someone can be in a packed VIP area of a nightclub. Taehyung can taste the nervousness coming off of you in waves. He can feel the erratic thump of your heart from where he’s standing in the shadows a few feet away.

Getting past Dumb and Dumber at the bottom of the stairs was comical; all it took was a whispered name, and they let him up without even asking for a card. He might not have any friends, but Taehyung has plenty of connections in this city. It would be wild if he didn’t, considering he’s been prowling these same streets for a hundred years now. Not many people know his face, but plenty know his name.

You look like a newborn fawn tiptoeing through a pack of wild, rabid wolves, eyes wide and lush lips parted as you edge yourself closer to the back of the space. He knows where you’re going; he’s just not sure why. The conversation he overheard between you and Ryan was enough to fill in some of the puzzle pieces concerning your venture. He also spent the majority of the night surfing the web on his phone and scrounging up everything he could on you, Danika, and whatever connection you might have to the man you’re now fast approaching.

Lorren Bianchi—world renowned flesh and drug trader kingpin—is sitting in a dimly lit booth, surrounded by a few scantily clad women holding champagne glasses and half a dozen muscle-thick bodyguards who aren’t bothering to cover up the pistols hooked to their belts.

Taehyung knows who Bianchi is and has spoken with him a handful of times as well. He’s never liked the oily fucker, far too pretentious and corrupt for Taehyung. It clicks then, and Taehyung curses himself for being a fool and not seeing it sooner. The box with the sentimental items you have tossed into the closet of the spare room, the smiling, beautiful blond girl with you in the photo—Danika. It all makes sense now, and if Taehyung doesn’t do something, you’re going to find yourself in someone else's cherished box in a closet.

🤍🤍🤍

You’re so focused on picking your way through the crowd, eyes honed in on the one man you’ve been gnashing at the bit to draw blood from, that you miss the man closing in through your periphery until you walk solidly into his chest. You blink a few times, dragging your focus up a narrow chest covered in a white button-up until you meet familiar golden-brown eyes.

“Ginger, what a surprise.”

A surprise is one way to describe it. However, surprises are far too close to being coincidences to you, and you stopped believing in coincidences a long time ago. Consider it a product of the deep distrust you’ve developed over the years. Running into the same man twice in less than twenty-four hours should be immediate alarm bells for you…yet, surprisingly, they remain silent.

“Sorry, can’t talk right now,” you mumble, intending to skirt around the guy and be on your way without further interaction. But he follows your step, blocking your way yet again. It’s hard to tell if it’s intentional or if he was stepping aside at the same time as you were.

He laughs, a warm, rumbling note that makes you look up just to make sure it’s really coming from him. “I’m sorry.” He moves to the side, gesturing with his arm toward the darkened back corner. The look in his eye is unreadable, making it hard to judge his intentions, but you’re not going to balk at the opportunity to get away, paranoia a thick collar slipping around your throat.

If you weren’t so on edge, you might give up your endeavor for the night and take the opportunity to slip a hook into this odd man. It would be easy enough, another chance to practice before the big take down. You’d be honest in saying you could use a bit more practice, if the way your hands shake is any indication.

But, no matter how hard you contemplate that idea, it won’t stick. There’s something about the man that screams innocent, which is also probably why your alarm bells refuse to ring. A man like that doesn’t deserve your torment, so you continue, not sparing him another glance.

“Thanks,” you say, stepping past him.

A hand on your arm brings you up short, though. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Your gaze cuts to the man—Taehyung—before flicking down to the slender fingers wrapped around your upper arm. His palm is warm against your skin, contrasting with the chill from the AC blasting overhead.

“What?”

Taehyung flicks his eyes toward where Lorren is sitting. “He’s a dangerous man.”

“All men are dangerous,” you snap.

Taehyung searches your eyes, for what you’re not sure, but whatever he sees there must disappoint him because his lips form a thin line, and he gives a subtle shake of his head. “I hate that that’s your reality.” He glances back toward the table where Bianchi is sitting. “Come on,” he murmurs, tugging you along to an empty seat a few feet away.

“What are you—Oh!” Your protest cuts off as Taehyung slumps into the vacant seat and drags you onto his lap. “What the hell!?”

“Calm down, or you’re going to draw attention to us.” Taehyung pulls you back against his chest, angling his head around yours so his words ghost over your ear, “Humor me a little, won’t you? Tell me what you see.”

“What I see?”

Slender fingers graze underneath your chin before hooking against it and tilting your head. For anyone else, it must look like Taehyung is whispering sweet nothings in your ear, plying you with his big hands. Every part of him that touches you is warm and inviting. But, you can’t let yourself get caught up in that.

Your eyes catch on the far table once more. Bianchi is laughing at something, his head thrown back and his mouth hanging open, though the sound doesn’t carry to you. You’re here for a reason, and you’re not going to let some bozo you ran into last night stop you.

Shifting around on his lap, you try to brace your heels on the floor to gain leverage, but Taehyung bands an arm around your hips and clears his throat. “Stop that, and before you ask, yes, I know him, and no, I don’t care for him. Now, look closely. Tell me what you perceive about the people around him. Tell me why if you would have approached that table tonight, it would have been short-lived and you’d be sorely disappointed that you wasted your chance.”

You lick your lips, willing your racing heart to calm down so you can focus. You know you should be scrambling off his lap, yelling obscenities, and cursing him for being a creep. Only, he’s, in fact, not being one. The only thing that’s disturbing is the fact that he somehow knows you’re here for Bianchi. A man who is nothing more than a stranger who gave up two hundred dollars last night is now acting like he knows all your dirty little secrets.

“How do you know that’s what I was going to do? Maybe I’m just here trying to have a good time, and you’ve gone and ruined it.”

“You’re easier to read than you think. Now, tell me.”

Taking a deep breath, you refocus on the table. Lorren is sitting in the middle, two girls on one side and one on the other. All blond, very young, petite with large eyes and lips. They could be triplets for all you can discern between the three of them. Everything you know about Bianchi flashes through your mind as you try to connect the dots. Of course, you should have seen it before. “Blond. He likes blondes. Fuck,” you mutter. There is a soft sound of approval from Taehyung, a low hum that vibrates through his chest. “Now, should I let you go make a fool of yourself, or would you like to hear what I have to offer?”

“Why are you even here? Have you been following me?”

Taehyung grunts as you begin to wiggle in earnest in his lap. “It’s not like that,” he says.

Now, the alarm bells do start to ring because that’s as good as saying ‘yes’. “Let me go.”

“I will, on one condition.” You twist in his lap, ready to lash out at him, but he catches your upraised palm and urges, “Let me help you with whatever you’re trying to do.”

“No, fuck you, jackass,” you hiss, trying to jerk your hand from his grip. “Let me go, or I’ll scream.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrow, and a smirk crooks up the corner of his mouth. It’s the first time his angelic demeanor has taken on a dark note, and you’re not sure if you like it or not. “Do you really think screaming will make any of these snakes come running to your aid?”

You swallow hard against the truth of that. A woman screaming is probably as common as a millionaire snorting coke in this place. Which judging by the tray covered in lines of white powder you can see on a table to your left, you’d wager the odds aren’t in your favor.

“Please,” you try for your best impression of desperation. “Please, let me go. You don’t understand.”

“I understand more than you know,” Taehyung whispers in response before standing, bringing you up with him, and dragging you toward the top of the stairs. You try to twist and protest, but his hand is like a vice around your wrist, and your pleas go unanswered.

It takes little time for Taehyung to haul you through the crowd. It’s like the surge of bodies part around him, making the escape smooth and seamless. The air outside is light and crisp compared to how suffocating it was inside; you hadn’t even noticed until now that you can take your first real, deep breath since you went in.

“Who the fuck even are you?” you snarl, finally jerking yourself free from Taehyung’s grip, though that might have more to do with him letting you pull yourself free than anything.

The look on his face is unreadable for a moment before a placating smile spreads across his lips. “I’m just someone with your best interest in mind and who is trying to help.”

“I already said I don’t need your help.” You make to step around him and head back inside. Even if your chances of introducing yourself to Bianchi tonight won’t go as planned, you can still do some more recon, and gather more information—but those slender fingers find themselves cuffing your wrist all over again. He drops his grip on you when it seems he’s certain you’re not going to try and run again.

“Look, just hear me out, and if you don’t like what I have to say, then I’ll provide you with the proper look and introduce you to Lorren Bianchi myself.” That earns him a narrow look filled with suspicion.

You look around, contemplating whether or not this man is full of shit or not. If you agree to hear him out, you might miss out on your opportunity to get closer to Bianchi tonight. But if he’s telling the truth, you might not need to do all the legwork anyway.

Taehyung looks hopeful as he waits for your response, bouncing ever so lightly on his toes, hands clasped in front of him. There is still that unmistakable sense of innocence about him, even though he just bodily dragged you from inside the club and somehow has a personal connection to Bianchi.

Ryan would urge you not to move so quickly tonight. He might also balk at the idea of you entertaining a stranger who seems to sneakily know more than he should…but which would earn you the most ire? Ryan would definitely find out about your attempt with Bianchi tonight, but he might not necessarily have to find out about Taehyung. Maybe you can play both fields.

You tug your phone from the inner seam on your dress and shoot off a text to Ryan, asking him to send you everything he can on Taehyung Kim and how he might be connected to Bianchi and to be quick about it. You add please to the end of your text, hoping you seem less demanding in your request.

“You have thirty minutes. If I’m not impressed, you introduce me, or I’ll make you wish you’d kept your two hundred dollars.” You give him a pointed look, the ruse from last night taking on a whole new meaning now. Clearly he was trying to make a connection to you and is now taking it a step further.

Taehyung holds up his hands, palms out. “Okay, okay. Deal. Follow me.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to ask any more questions. You have to skip a few steps, your heels clicking against the sidewalk, to catch up with him as his long strides carry him away from the club.

You’re taken aback, thinking he’d surely lead you to some apartment or a hotel, somewhere there is a mild bit of privacy. Though an empty park wasn’t exactly what you had in mind, it does afford you the privacy.

“Start talking,” you insist, crossing your arms over your chest. You set a thirty-minute timer on your phone already and have it clutched in your hand so you can feel it vibrating either from time running out or with any messages from Ryan.

Taehyung’s back is to you, his attention directed somewhere overhead. “It’s beautiful, don’t you think?”

“What?” you ask, confused, feeling like you’re being whiplashed by the sudden change in conversation.

He glances at you over his shoulder, and you’re stuck by just how gorgeous he is, bathed in the soft glow from the lamps lining the walkway through the park. “The sky, it’s beautiful.”

“Um, yeah, sure.” You’re honestly not certain of the last time you took the time to actually look up at the sky and admire it. Living in the city, the light pollution and dirty air doesn’t really have an appeal anyway.

“Look,” he says, nodding back in the direction he was looking in before.

You sigh, irritated, but if he wants to waste part of his thirty minutes looking up at the smog-filled sky, who are you to—your thoughts trail off as you finally gaze up. The moon hangs full and low in the sky. You can see a smattering of stars as if they’re demanding to be seen despite the blazing city lights. It takes your breath away for a moment, grounding you in a different reality, one not filled with plots of revenge and loneliness.

Dragging your attention away from the sight and to the man so nonchalantly standing there, wasting his time, you say. “Your time is running out.”

“I’m not from here.” His words come as a whisper, barely carrying to you from over his shoulder. “The view is so different here, no matter how many times I look up, it’s never the same.”

“So, you’re from some other city. What’s that got to do with any of this? Is that how you know Bianchi?”

Taehyung turns, giving you his full attention. You feel bared to him, somehow. As if his eyes are taking stock of your every sin and folly. “I’m not from some other city. I’m not from here,” he emphasizes the word, drawing it out intentionally slow.

“I don’t have time for riddles,” you grunt, growing more irritated by the second. You should have known this was a waste of time. Your phone buzzes in your hand, and a wash of relief swells inside you. Ryan is just in time to confirm this is a complete waste.

Why are you asking about him?

Please don’t tell me you’re wanting to target him. Don’t be an idiot, Ging.

Seriously? You’re not going to answer me? Fine.

There are a few texts that are several minutes old. You must have been so distracted you missed your phone vibrating with them. A flood of new texts come in as you’re reading.

He’s one of the good ones. There’s a link to a website attached. You click on it and scan the opening page. ‘Kim Taehyung, Billionaire With No Billions’ is the headline. The article is filled with statistics and data showing that every cent Taehyung earns with any of his business ventures goes toward charity or medical research.

He’s a literal saint. Like, there isn’t a single mark against this guy. Targeting him would be doing the devil’s work. His connection to Bianchi seems to be one of rivalry. He’s the one who stopped Bianchi from opening up that one casino, you know, the one that was going to serve as an underground skin trade, but the evidence magically disappeared before his court hearing?

So that’s why Taehyung is familiar to you. You didn’t pay much attention to the casino thing, just kept tabs on it in passing in hopes it could lead you to gathering another connection to Bianchi.

Thanks. You hit send, thumb out of the timer you set, and tuck your phone away back into your dress.

“Ready to hear what I have to say now?”

You can feel heat crawling up your neck. Mild embarrassment is a bitter taste in the back of your throat as you feel thoroughly chastised even though he’s not speaking to you in a demeaning way.

“I’m listening.”

“Perhaps where I’m from is not important, not that you’d believe me anyway. So, perhaps the best place to start is acknowledging that I know what you’re going through. I’ve experienced what you’re experiencing, the pain and grief of losing someone you love.”

It’s like a white-hot dagger to the heart, a mix of indignation and sympathy. “You might think you do, but I don’t know.”

“I was punished for loving someone, they were taken from me, and I was… ostracized. I’ll never be the same. I still”—he rolls his shoulders and winces—”ache.”

His words are cryptic, but you’re fairly certain they’re only the surface of his experience, as there is evident pain laced within his whispered confession.

Slowly, his slender fingers nimbly work at the ivory buttons along the front of his shirt. One by one, they reveal the subtlest hint of flesh. The lighting that wreathed him in a halo glow just a moment ago now casts his features in stark relief as he moves closer to you.

“What are you doing?”

“Making myself vulnerable to you, in hopes of earning some of your trust.” With painfully slow movements, Taehyung turns and shrugs down the top of his dress shirt. It’s confusing, at first, trying to decipher what you’re seeing in the dim lighting. Ripples and bumps form two narrow swaths to either side of his spine, just within his shoulder blades; scars, jagged ones, made of tight, shiny ridges. The placement, the mirrored precision…it almost, almost looks like he had wings ripped from his back. “Not ripped,” he murmurs and you realize you spoke your thought aloud. “They were shorn from my body by my Brother Michael.”

“Your brother did this to you?!” you ask incredulously.

“Brothers,” he emphasizes. “But, only one wielded the blade.”

You balk at him, unable to comprehend how someone could do this to another human being. Before you can think better of it, you brush a light finger over one of the ridges. Taehyung shudders so intensely under your touch, that you’re afraid you might have hurt him. “I’m so sorry,” you whisper, snatching your hand back.

He clears his throat. “Nothing to apologize for. It’s just that, well, I haven’t been touched by another being in a very, very long time. I had almost forgotten what it felt like, a tender touch like that.”

“You shouldn’t have suffered at the hands of your brothers.”

“Water under the bridge at this point,” Taehyung sighs, pulling his shirt back up and redoing the buttons as he turns to face you once more. “I know what you’re trying to do with Bianchi, and even if you manage to get close enough to him, you’re not going to be able to go through with it. You can’t kill him.”

“I can and I will,” you state fiercely. “I have to.”

Taehyung gives you a sad smile. “There’s too much good in your heart. You’ll hesitate, and then he’ll turn the tables. He’ll give you the same fate as your friend.”

“You don’t know anything about her!” you shout, wincing at your own outburst as your words echo through the park and startle some birds out of a nearby tree.

“I know that you love her. I know that you’re on a path of revenge for her. A path that is going to lead you to an eternity of damnation even if you do succeed. Please, let me help you. I promise Bianchi will suffer for what he has done, but we have to do it the right way.”

“And what exactly would you consider the right way?” Anger eats at your eyes, making them burn with tears you refuse to shed.

Looking deep into your eyes, Taehyung explains, “If you kill him, that’s the end of it. But, if you tear down his empire, make him lose everything, brick by brick…he’ll endure a lifetime of suffering, which, to a man like him, is far crueler of a punishment than bringing his miserable life to an end. He’ll probably do it himself by the time we’re done with him.”

“Why is it, exactly, that you want to help me again?”

“I’ve dealt with Bianchi on a few occasions. Unfortunately, he rubs elbows with a lot of the same people that I do. I suppose money doesn’t care if someone is a good person or not.” Taehyung fits his hands into his pockets, leaning back on one heel in a relaxed manner as his eyes flick over your features. “I’ve never had the right justification for bringing him down. He’s always managed to slip between my fingers. Now, though, you’re presenting me with the perfect opportunity, the perfect justified means to take him down once and for all...and well, if it means I can save you, then I’ll take that, too.”

The fact this man seems to care about you, care about Danika, doesn’t seem all that unusual. His eyes are open and full of warmth, so welcoming and completely unalarming in their charm and sincerity. You can’t help but accept. “What do you propose we do? Where do we start?”

That seems to put a little pep back into Taehyung’s demeanor. “Simple, of course. We start where it will hurt him most, his bank account.”

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faulty-writes · 8 months

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[ Hello fans and or followers. I present Chapter Four of my Tensei Holidays series. Yes, this was meant to be a holiday post, but couldn’t get it out in time. But regardless, I hope all of you enjoy it! You can find the other chapters by searching this tag on Tumblr or you can find Chapter One by clicking this link. ]

[ Despite your wishes, after dinner Mr. Iida manages to pull you into a conversation regarding the wedding. But you can’t go through with it, and end up running out of the Iida Estate in a panic. After a short conversation with Tenya, you finally have a moment alone with Tensei, but things don’t exactly go as planned. ]

There was a short relief when dinner finally ended, and despite your desire to excuse yourself, Mr. Iida insisted on discussing wedding plans in one of the many tatami rooms the Iida Estate had. You grumbled, curling your hands against your thighs as you sat on the zabuton cushion that was situated in front of the table.

Mr. Iida sat across from you and Tensei was sitting next to you, his wheelchair folded and tucked away in the corner of the room. However, Mr. Iida’s words rang deaf to your ears as your mind became overwhelmed with more questions than answers.

Particularly how you could possibly get a moment alone with Tensei before this situation escalated to the point where neither of you could prevent it. “Y/n?” Tensei asked, but you failed to respond until he nudged you with his elbow or rather the engine attached to his elbow. Regardless, it caught your attention.

“Hm?” You looked at him, eyebrows knitted, and face contorted with curiosity and confusion. “Heh,” he smiled, even though the news his father shared at dinner came as a surprise he was happy. His mother always talked about the two of you being together and he felt so honored that he was going to be your future husband.

He glanced at you, noting that the expression on your face wasn’t what an ideal spouse should look like. Then again, he knew it was a lot to take in at once. He reached over, laying his hand over yours. His sudden touch caused you to jump and snap your head in his direction.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at your reaction. “I know it’s a lot to take in at once, but what do you think?” Frankly, you had no idea what he was referring to and to make matters worse, you could feel Mr. Iida’s stare burning a hole through you.

Maybe you could just say you thought everything was fine, but you had already lied to Tensei enough. “Uh, I…think…” you tried to reply. “I think that…” you latched onto your lip and stood up frantically. “I…I need some air! Excuse me!” You said, bowing quickly before rushing out the room, leaving Tensei confused, and his father mildly irritated.

As you barreled down the hallway, you surprised Mrs. Iida who was sitting with Tenya in the parlor drinking some after-dinner tea. She gasped when you ran by her and nearly dropped her cup, but Tenya grabbed it before it could spill. You didn’t bother stopping to apologize and continued toward the foyer and out the front door.

Once he had ensured his mother was okay, he informed her he was going to inquire what had caused your rather unusual behavior. The cold chill of the December air was a welcomed consequence as you paced back and forth on the veranda.

Eventually, you needed to go back inside and discuss…what were you even discussing, wedding plans? Well, there wouldn’t be a wedding once you had a word with Tensei. But how would you even explain that you found out that he liked someone because you happened to fish his letter out of your trashcan?

Why would he even throw something like that away in your trashcan? It made little sense, and he could have at least made the effort to rip it up before throwing it away. You sighed in frustration and slammed your hands against the railing of the veranda before leaning over to rub your forehead, a headache was coming on for sure.

You took a deep breath, watching it evaporate before looking up at the sky. It was painted white and with the temperature continuing to drop, you could only assume it would snow. You lowered your head, another sigh passing your lips.

“What am I even doing?” It was a question that normally would remain unanswered, but your head snapped back up when you heard someone say, “That’s a valid inquiry.” You twirled on your feet, and out of instinct presumed a defensive posture.

Tenya stood with his arms crossed and a serious expression enveloped his features, and while he wasn’t nearly as intimidating as his father, a sense of authority still seeped from his person. “Oh...” your shoulders slumped. “Tenya,” you said, now pressing your back against the railing.

“You surprised me,” he didn’t find your words amusing and stepped toward you. “As did your rather unusual behavior when you crossed through the parlor, Mother nearly spilled her hot beverage,” he informed you. “Uh,” you rubbed the side of your neck, “sorry about that I just…” your eyes danced back and forth.

“I just needed some air,” might as well use the same excuse twice. He cocked an eyebrow at you. “Is there something troubling you?” he asked, continuing to glance at you suspiciously. “Are you perhaps anxious regarding the wedding?” Before you could stop yourself, another long and dramatic sigh came.

“I…really don’t want to talk about the wedding Tenya,” you sternly said before turning your back to him and looking at the driveway. He knitted his eyebrows and boldly closed the distance between the two of you. Although your back remained facing him, you tensed up knowing he was now towering over you.

“I am afraid I do not understand. Do you not harbor feelings of affection for Tensei?” His words made you tremble and for a moment, your heart fluttered with fear. Did Tenya pick up that you had feelings for Tensei through the years? Maybe you were being more obvious than you thought.

But if that were true, then Tensei must have noticed as well. Then again, while he was intellectual in tactical strategies and heroics, you weren’t sure just how much of that intelligence extended to things such as being able to read a person’s body language and actions.

You latched onto your lip and pinched the bridge of your nose, debating if you should confess that you knew that Tensei had feelings for someone else. But it wouldn’t be right, this was your problem and you needed to be the one to figure out the solution.

Then again, maybe you could try being vague, and give him a little information but not everything. “Why would I when Tensei-” You paused when you heard a creak and looked to see the devil himself rolling past the front door. “Oh, there you are!” He said with a bright and happy grin.

“I was a little worried when you ran off like that,” his glance shifted to Tenya. “I’m glad you caught up to them,” he said, and Tenya nodded. “Their behavior was quite strange, and I sought to inquire why they were acting as such,” he explained, and he was talking as if you weren’t there.

“Yes well…” you stepped in between the brothers. “If you don’t mind Tenya…I’d like to have a word with Tensei about the wedding alone,” you said, glaring at him. While a bit perturbed, he nodded. “Very well, I do hope it’s a…pleasant conversation,” you raised your eyebrow at the way he spoke.

While it was understandable that he didn’t want his brother’s feelings hurt, personal matters were to be settled between the respective parties without third-party assistance. Still, you thought it best to remain quiet and once Tenya had left, you turned to Tensei. Your heart pounding, and your stomach twisting.

Nerves aside, you managed to speak. “I…I can’t go through with it,” Tensei’s eyes widened, and his chest swelled with a painful ache. “W-what do you mean? Of course, you can!” he said, trying to be as positive as he usually was. You curled your hands into fists, shaking your head.

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do!” you hissed in reply. He did that when he asked you to take over as the leader of Team Idaten. You insisted that you couldn’t, that you didn’t know the first thing about running a team. But there was that positive nature of his, lifting you up and encouraging you.

Sure, it worked back then, but it wouldn’t work now. “...I…” you slapped your thighs in frustration and Tensei continued to frown. “I was just trying to-” his words were muffled by your growling. “Trying to what? How can you even accept this?!”

Not only did his parents spring it on both of you by surprise, but he just went along with it as if his feelings for the mysterious other person didn’t matter. He knitted his eyebrows, not entirely understanding your question.

He tilted his head and inched closer to you, the wooden floor squeaking underneath the weight of his wheelchair. “What do you mean?” He asked before chuckling. “What the hell is so funny?!” You demanded, almost hating when he treated serious situations with humor.

He remained quiet and turned his head to look at the white-blanketed sky. He could feel goosebumps forming across his arms because of the chill in the air, but it almost seemed insignificant in comparison to the warmth of his smile.

“My dad asked me about marriage the other day,” you knitted your eyebrows. Wait...Mr. Iida brought up marriage to him? You felt a small tinge of guilt course through your heart. Did that mean his father saw you as worthy marriage material?

You swallowed thickly, waiting for him to continue his story but after a few seconds, decided to urge him on. “And?” You asked. “And…” he paused and rolled closer, taking your hand. “He mentioned you,” your eyes widened, and any words eluded you at the moment.

“I didn’t think that he’d…ask you on my behalf, but you don’t seem that excited,” he noted, the smile fading from his face. You glanced away and pulled your hand from his, taking a step back. “I-I’m not,” you confessed, feeling your heart break all over again.

It was like an enormous weight on your chest, ceasing your ability to breathe and tension to build in the air. Judging by the look on Tensei’s face, his heart had also broken when those words left your lips. But why, he loved someone else, didn’t he?

He shook his head slightly, and you looked away when you saw the faintest bit of tears welling up in the corner of his eyes reflecting the glow from the lanterns that hung along the ceiling of the veranda. “Why?” He asked, his voice slightly cracked, and it only added to the guilt that made your knees ready to buckle.

Your throat tightened, and you tried to fight back your tears. Wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, you opened your mouth to speak but again your words were lost now. You cleared your throat, and reached inside your blazer, pulling out the folded letter. Tensei looked at it with a furrowed brow.

“What is…that?” He asked, pointing a lazy finger at it before a few stray tears fell down his cheeks. You sighed and opened it before presenting it to him again. He leaned forward, trying to read it in the dim light and his eyes widened when he realized what it was.

“Oh wow, heh…” he nervously chuckled and rubbed the back of his head. “I…didn’t know you’d find that,” you narrowed your eyes. “You threw it in the trashcan of my office,” you replied before sniffling and wiping your eyes again.

“Why would I marry you when you have feelings for someone else!?” You exclaimed, stomping your foot against the floor while simultaneously shoving the letter into his face. “Huh?” Before he could say anything, you turned to walk down the ramp and toward the driveway.

“Y/n wait!” he replied, the letter falling from his hand, but you were intent on climbing into your car and going home. That is until you heard a powerful and distinctive roar. Subconsciously you knew what it was but turned around only to see Tensei barreling down the ramp at turbo speed.

His arms stretched out to his sides and the engines that protruded out of his elbows aided in his speed. You always thought Tensei’s propulsion jets were useful and that controlling them required skill. You recalled how he would easily fly into the air, scale buildings, and perform with precise precision when it came to his quirk.

After years of retirement, one would think he’d be rusty, and this was confirmed the moment he smacked into you. A loud cry left your lips at the force of him hitting you, and unlike Tensei, you couldn’t fathom how to react to the sudden moment.

Your hands didn’t make any attempt to grab anything that may have helped cushion your fall, but it was just as well considering his arms wrapped around you. His wheelchair hit the driveway and bounced a few times before scraping across the pavement and finally coming to a stop.

Tensei cushioned your fall to the ground, and the sleeves of his shirt got torn as a result. But that meant very little to him, all he knew at this moment was that the fear of you leaving meant that everything the two of you had created would be gone.

“Ah! Tensei!” you snapped, pushing against his chest. “Are you insane, what kind of stunt was that?! You could have hurt yourself!” you yelled, not caring about the volume of your voice. “Are you looking to get more paralyzed!? Is that what you want?!” you clenched your jaw.

“Sometimes you are just so…” What was even the right word to use? “So irresponsible!” Digging your nails into his chest, you continued to yell. “What is the person you love going to think?!” You ignored the way he knit his eyebrows; he couldn’t play dumb now.

“I can’t marry someone who’s already in love with-” he leaned down, his face inches from yours. Once he saw that he had your attention, his features softened although he was still angry. How could you think that he was in love with someone else when it was clear that you were the only person for him?

He ignored the snowflakes that began to fall from the sky. If he didn’t say this now, then he’d never get another chance. “The only person I’ve ever been in love with is you.” As expected, you froze, processing the information he had just spoken with the information you had assumed to be true.

You shook your head, that couldn’t be. He had to be lying, pulling some kind of prank on you but that stern expression shining in his eyes said otherwise. Not to mention that still burning sense of leadership that surrounded him like a vice and shone like a beacon calling you home.

“I wrote that letter to help Eri, but the person I was talking about was you, Y/n,” he explained with a smile. “We’ve been through everything together. Do you think I could fall in love with anyone else?” He replied, and your eyes widened, yet at the same time, your irises shrunk as if they had just been exposed to a burst of light.

Uncontrollable chuckles escaped while your eyes glistened with a silent reservoir of tears that threatened to spill over. Tensei frowned when he saw this and although most of his body weight was on top of you, he slowly removed his arms from around you and used one arm to support himself.

Then he reached up to cup the side of your face. “Please don’t cry,” he said, “smiles are the only way to express happiness.” His pearly whites shined as the snow continued to gather against the ground around you. Somehow that was the stick that broke the dam and hot tears flooded down your cheeks like a rapid river.

“T-Tensei I…” you sniffled, and the cold air stung your wet cheeks. Words were useless and you found yourself wrapping your arms around him, longing for his warmth. The hand that was cupping your face now lay pressed against the ground beneath you.

Despite the tears that continued to flow, you smiled as you pressed your forehead against his. “I’m so relieved,” you admitted, your voice soft and slightly broken, but you were happy. Yes, you would probably look back and reflect on your assumptions that he was in love with someone else as a moment of…stupidity.

Being honest and direct was always best, which is why a silent agreement lingered in the air when you pulled away. You reached up, tracing the outline of his face with your fingers and a sense of purpose. Your eyes meet his gaze with a mutual understanding, and you lean in.

The world went silent around you, and the heat of your drawing breath danced with Tensei’s creating a space of warmth as your lips met. Like a whirlwind, the kiss started with a calm front before a spark ignited, signaling a shared desire and the lustful caress of tongues.

Like the most succulent mouth-watering candy, his flavor-filled you, driving you to dive further into this moment of passion and love. Finally crossing the threshold of friendship and into a new and exciting territory. The sound of rushed footsteps caused the two of you to part and your desperate pants filled the air.

“What happened here?” Mr. Iida’s voice came, obviously alarmed by why the two of you were on the ground. He also happened to spot Tensei’s wheelchair a few feet away, folded and collapsed. Mrs. Iida laid her hand on her husband’s shoulder and stood beside him.

“We heard a commotion and-” her words halted when she looked at the unusual position Tensei and yourself were in. “Oh my…” She replied, trying to hide her pink-hued cheeks, although you weren’t sure if that was from the cold surroundings or the fact that she was flushing.

Tenya was the last one to speak after properly analyzing the situation. “I see!” he suddenly exclaimed, making you cringe as you waited in anticipation for his answer. “Your unusual behavior was driven by the desire to have a scheduled secluded moment of affection!” he concluded.

“That is rather…interesting,” he commented, ceasing his rapid hand-chopping. You could barely believe what you were hearing, but it was as good of an excuse as any to follow. “However, it seemed to have resulted in a rather inconvenient position. Do you require assistance standing, brother?” You looked at Tensei who laughed in response.

“Guess we did get a little carried away, sorry about that,” he said, and you pondered if any of his family members would notice or ask what happened to the sleeves of his shirt. Luckily, they didn’t or they were polite enough not to ask about it as Tenya assisted Tensei back into his wheelchair with the help of his father.

Without Tensei’s body against yours, the chill of the snowy air hit you like a brick. “Why don’t we go inside and brew some tea for you?” Mrs. Iida suggested when she noticed you trembling. You nodded and allowed her to escort you inside while Tenya followed suit with Tensei.

Once you were sitting in the foyer, Mrs. Iida wrapped a blanket around your shoulders. You sighed in contentment as you held a cup of warm matcha tea in your palms. Tensei was sitting next to you, and Mr. Iida was across the table, eager to resume the conversation you were having prior.

It was still overwhelming, but it’s not like the Iida’s were strangers to you. Plus, you were marrying the man you had known for years and who held mutual feelings for you. Although you had no plans to retire from being a Pro Hero nor step down as the leader of the Idaten Agency.

Your promise to Tensei was to only pass on leadership to Tenya when he was good and ready. Until then, you’d keep doing what you were doing. Although Mr. Iida didn’t favor this, he ultimately abided by your wishes, if anything, to prevent the Idaten Agency and the Iida family legacy from dying along with it.

Your stomach was overwhelmed with butterflies by the time everything was discussed, or almost everything. While guests, food, music, and the like were agreed upon. The location and date for the wedding remained up in the air, but that could be addressed later.

A yawn escaped you, and you lazily rubbed your eyes. What a long and emotionally exhausting day it was. “Hm?” Tensei looked at you and laid his hand on your shoulder. “Getting tired?” He asked, and you responded with a nod.

“I guess planning does take a lot out of you,” he chuckled and looked at his father. “I’d like Y/n to stay the night,” while his request was out of his selfish desires, it was also evident that the roads were covered in a blanket of snow and he didn’t want to risk you driving in such dangerous weather, especially at this hour of the night.

Mr. Iida narrowed his eyes; he was strongly against allowing an unmarried couple to sleep under the same roof because of his traditional ways. However, his wife spoke up, “Perhaps you can make an exception for tonight,” she suggested.

“Y/n can sleep in the guest room down the hall from our bedroom,” you raised your eyebrow, finding her words unusual. But more than likely she just wanted to ensure that you wouldn’t try and sneak to Tensei’s room in the middle of the night and vice versa.

Silence fell over the room as Mr. Iida contemplated. “Very well,” he said standing. “We will decide the date and location of the wedding later,” you swallowed hard, once again feeling a burst of butterflies erupt in your stomach. You turned to Tensei, who while surprised as well, shrugged.

“Maybe we could get married on the last day of the year?” he suggested, chuckling. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the uneasiness continuing in your stomach. “Right,” you replied before Mrs. Iida smiled and motioned you to stand up.

“Isn’t this exciting?” She asked, cupping your hands. “Heh,” you offered her a smile and looked at Tensei while his father crossed his arms. “I guess, I’ll see you tomorrow?” He said, and your heart raced in anticipation when he smiled. You nodded. “Goodnight,” you said before Mrs. Iida escorted you out of the room.

“I’m sure we have a spare set of sleeping attire for you,” she said as she turned down a hallway lined with several rooms. Despite knowing the vast majority of the Iida Estate’s layout, you only previously imagined what it would be like to live there.

After the marriage was official, you assumed Tensei’s parents would insist you move in, which would be the proper thing to do. But still, even if that happened you couldn’t imagine yourself getting used to the large amount of space and endless rooms.

“Here we are,” Mrs. Iida announced as she slid open the door to reveal the guest room. The flooring was hidden by tatami mats and a futon laid directly on them. In the center of the room was a chabudai, which sat low and had zabuton cushions surrounding it.

Along the outside of the room was a narrow veranda that overlooked the garden. Overall, the room conveyed a sense of tradition and simplicity. You stepped inside it, looking around before turning back to Mrs. Iida. “It’s lovely, thank you,” she nodded and reached for the door.

“I’ll be back shortly with the sleeping attire,” she informed you before sliding said door closed. You smiled and took a deep breath. To think that by the end of the year, you’d be married. It was a strange feeling, and you pondered how many of the guests you suggested for the wedding would show up.

If anything, your team members would likely drop everything on the day of the wedding to help set it up. Of course, the wedding would also require a lot of last-minute planning. Not that you minded considering you were marrying your best friend. After Mrs. Iida returned with the sleeping wear you nestled yourself in for the night.

Like before, you lay staring at the ceiling with thoughts dancing in your mind, particularly of your Yuuei days. To think you’d go from being such a shy individual to the leader of Team Idaten and the soon-to-be spouse of the greatest hero you have ever known.

#tensei iida x reader #tensei ida x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x reader #bnha x you #iida x reader #iida x y/n #faulty writes: tensei iida: 24 #faulty writes: tensei iida: holiday series: 23

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echantedtoon · 8 months

Text

In The Moon's Shadow (Yandere Kokushibo x Reader) Ch11 A Mother Sacrifices

(WARNINGS: Mentioning of death/blood/a dead body/someone being killed/violence, referenced spicy-ish stuff, mentioning of pregnancy, mentioning of vomiting, at least one body being brought into town, and mentioning of discrimination against demons. Mentioning of a wound on Y/n's cheek. Mentioning of someone dying in a house fire. Mentioning of murder.

EDIT: I read on Google morning sickness can happen as early as 2-4 weeks, headaches the first few months, and cravings can be as early as 4 weeks. If this is not accurate I apologize.)

Cold.

The bed felt colder when you awoken. The warmth you felt only came from the blanket that covered your body and the dim embers in the fireplace as your eyes slowly opened up. Delicate turquoise blinked awake at nothing before you realized that your back was cold. Twisting around, you flipped onto your back head turned but paused seeing that the other side of the futon was barren. Nothing but the cold air hitting your body. Your eyes blinked at the empty space before slowly sitting up.

"Kokushibo?"

A hand reached up to rub your face as you looked around the space of your home. The sunlight cascaded down through the windows and lit up the entire place however not one trace of the demon could be seen.

"Kokushibo?," you called again a bit louder in case he was in the bathroom and didn't hear you.

No one answered.

Kokushibo was gone.

Your body was overran with a feeling of.. disappointment. He said he would leave that night so you shouldn't be surprised, but considering what happened between you both- You at least thought he'd stay long enough to say goodbye. Eyes stared blankly at the spot where he laid last night. Silence rang out throughout the home before it was quenched by the rustling of blankets being pushed over and the sounds of a body shuffling around to get ready for the day. The home remained silent and cold even as the owner grabbed a homemade coat to throw over her shoulders. The sounds of a door sliding open and closed echoed throughout the silence.

A shudder ran down your body as you pulled the coat tighter around your shoulders. Fall was starting to come to a close and soon winter will be here. You never did like the cold weather all that much. The cold wind wafting over you and making you shiver and shake. It was one reason why you liked working at the fragrance store. The constant making of soaps and candles made the building warm a lot of the time and it was an ideal place to work in winter. Your legs carried your shuddering from down the path before turning the first corner to get to your house but slowly came to a stop once you saw a curious sight. A decently sized crowd had gathered in front of a house. Not just any house.

The undertaker's residence.

A small crowd of about ten to sixteen people were gathered silently staring at the home and whispering to one another in hushed tones. Being a small village, there was little excitement in the town and one of the only times any excitement happened was whenever one of the residents passed away. You guessed one of the elders had passed away and now there was the usual temporary buzz of limited gossip around it. Curiosity got you to walk forward slowly until you got near enough to merge into the crowd and stop by to stare into the house's window. Inside you could sorta make out the forms of a man and woman with their backs to you. The man had an arm around presumably his wife and the woman looked to be shaking in sobs. Another person, the undertaker, remained calm and stood still. The family of the deceased no doubt making burial arrangements for whoever had passed away.

Eventually you turned to a girl next to you and asked, "What happened?"

She looked at you wide eyed and blinked. "You didn't hear? A man was killed. A hunting party went out for deer last night, and one was mauled by a bear or wolf. Tore him completely to shreds. His body was brought back early this morning."

Shock littered your body like leaves on the ground. "A..A-A bear or wolf?!"

There hasn't been any giant predators near your town for as long as you can remember! And someone was mauled by one last night?!

The girl nodded. "A group of men went out to try and track it down. If you ask me, I bet this cold has made the beast hungry and desperate for a big meal! You certainly won't catch me out in the woods now."

You gulped down and nodded before giving one last look at the window- And then leaving quickly. It was disrespectful to watch the family mourn their family. You only hoped that the beast was caught or moved on from here now, and you hoped Kokushibo wouldn't run into anything deadly like that.

If you had stayed perhaps you would've recognized Nori's parents-

You successfully made your way back to your boss's home and saw smoke. ..Wait. That couldn't be right. Why was there smoke billowing in the air?! Worried you quickened your pass and made it to your boss's home only to not find her there. Instead of asking questions, you squeezed through the alleyway between two homes to follow the smoke in the sky, the smell got stronger than before. Coming to the other side you immediately froze. A much bigger crowd than the one at the undertaker was there covering the streets. What was going on here?! After a moment you pushed your way through this crowd and stopped once you caught sight of it. Frozen and jaw dropped.

Sabo's house was burnt to a crisp.

There was nothing left but half a burnt shell of a house blackened by fire. Men were still going back and forth passing each other buckets of water and double pouring over everything despite the fire being long since burnt out. And there in front of the crowd was your boss and her family. The old woman was on her knees face buried in her hands sobbing uncontrollably. Sabo's parents were right behind her. His mother just... staring with this absolute shocked expression as if she couldn't process what she was seeing. While his father could only silently look stone faced continuesly shaking his head in disappointment. Whisps of thin smoke trails still rose as the men still hurried to pour as much water as they could on everything...but no Sabo could be found. After a moment you turned to a man next to you.

"What happened here?"

He blinked looking at you but then sighed. "The house caught fire in the middle of the night. Apparently during the night he got cold and placed his bed closer to the fireplace, but his bed caught on fire and burnt down the entire home with him in it."

Your eyes widened. Sabo was...deceased?

You supposed you shouldn't be surprised Sabo was the soft to not heed the warnings of a fire..but you still couldn't help but feel a little pity for his family despite you not liking any of them. But...life proceeded as normal. The days that followed your boss was mostly silent. Stone faced, and cold but silent. Only telling you to do things, but she didn't nag at you anymore and she didn't yell or anything else. Loosing Sabo seemed to have lesson her angry nature a lot. As much as you liked the peace, you still felt a little bad for her so you didn't ever say a word about the situation.. You were even half expecting Kokushibo to be home again once you returned home..but you only returned to an empty home. Cold and silent other than the noises you'd make yourself. You had to accept that the man had left and probably wouldn't be back for quite some time judging by how he was and how quick he left. That thought only hammered home harder when your boss decided to share some gossip more a few days later.

"The fighting has gotten worse in the east."

You had paused in the middle of putting some freshly set lavender soap on the shelf to look at her. Her sour expression staring at the fireplace. "Worse?"

She nodded disdainly. "From what I've heard, the Kibutsuji's forces had sprung an unseen sneak attack on the other side but in the process both sides have been depleted of a lot of resources so now both sides are desperate for it. I even heard they started taking over different towns and small villages for their resources."

Your eyes had widened. An unforseen attack? Didn't Kokushibo mention that he was attacked by an unexpected ambush? That must've been what he was referring to! No wonder he didn't want anyone besides you to know that he was here. Any signs of him could draw the enemy to your peaceful village and that would be devastating. Was that why he insisted on leaving so soon? To avoid any unnecessary violence to you and everyone else here? That thought gave you a small flutter in your chest. He really wasn't as bad as people depicted.

"That's awful but it's still so far away. Surely there shouldn't be anything to worry about."

"Hmph. Dont become naive. Keep your wits about or mark my words. You'll be sorry you didn't. That's how people die foolishly." She seemed to speaking out of grief. She did that a lot especially after her family held a funeral for grandson.

You chose to not worry about what she said..but you couldn't help but wonder. Did she have a point? Kokushibo wasn't supposed to be anywhere near here but yet he collapsed outside your house. Could there be the possibility that there were others close by? Enemies that weren't so nice to strangers. Not a lot of people knew about your village tucked away deep in the forest unless someone traveled this far which wasn't often, so you weren't too worried about someone finding it...But Kokushibo had found it, so that doesn't mean others couldn't have discovered it too. As long as the fighting was far away and didn't come here, then there was nothing for you to worry over. All you had to do was just keep an eye and ear open for anything that might happen. Although you were sure nothing abnormal would happen here soon other than maybe Kokushibo coming to pay another visit to you. After all-

Nothing ever happened in your life. Nothing would change.

Oh how naivity likes to taunt fate

Life as usual carried on. Days slowly passed in the cold autumn air. Leaves started to fall more than ever in the cold breezes and made everyone shudder. The news of the men's death buzzed down just a week after it happened as you thought it would, especially after the hunting party of men came back every night empty handed with no beasts to be seen, and Sabo's father hired men to tear down the remains of his son's ruined house so he could build a new one in it's place. Rumors circulated that whatever did this moved on after having it's fill but you couldn't help but..think it was strange.

Both happened on the same night Kokushibo disappeared. He couldn't be anyway connected to any of this... could he? No. No he couldn't have. He never made any threatening actions towards anyone minus Nori and Sabo but that was different. It was in self defense and defense of yourself. You had no doubt that he probably has taken lives on the battlefield being a samurai but surely he wouldn't just attack a hunter for no reason. Plus everyone said that the man died from an animal attack. You never thought a demon would show up here so a predator big enough to kill a man also lingering around wasn't too far off the table. And he didn't have a reason to harm Sabo either. Besides Sabo was the type of man that'd DEFINITELY NOT listen if someone told him not to get too close to the fireplace as he slept, and the undertaker already determined that Sabo's death was completely accidental. And the Undertaker knew death. He dealt with it all the time so he'd know best. But...you couldn't help but wonder. A bit of uneasy settling in your stomach. Maybe you'd ask him about it next time he was here? Perhaps he at least knew something about it. Oh gods...What if it was one of his enemies he had been hiding from?!

You had to force yourself into your work to keep from spiraling into worry. You shouldn't jump to such conclusions when there really wasn't even any evidence to any of your worries! That thought brought some ease for yourself. For now you should just let sleeping dogs lie and not involve yourself where you shouldn't be. It didn't involve you so you'd forget about it even if it was hard to.

More time passed by and away went the worries with time. It helped nothing else happened in the peaceful town. Until...one day.

You woke up.

You did not feel ok.

Your stomach had felt as if you had swallowed a rock. A firm presence that felt uncomfortable. The pressure got worse as you sat up, and your stomach shifted- A gag left your throat as a hand shot up to cover your lips. The house filled with the sounds of scrambling before the back door was thrown open and what was once your dinner last night was no longer within your body. The sudden vomiting made your throat sore and left you coughing a few times before you were able to stumble your way back inside shivering from the cold early morning air. A groan left your lips and a glass of water was soon after downed to combat the burning feeling.

Well... certainly not something you were expecting to wake up to today.

"The meat must've gone bad. Now I'll have to dump out the pot I made and buy more from the butcher."

You were a little bitter about having to dump an entire pot of stew but if the meat was bad enough to make you throw up then it wasn't fit for eating. It must've been the stew that made you sick. No matter. You'd just buy some fresh meat from the butcher while you were out today and make sure that it was the freshest batch they had. It did irritate you that you had to remake dinner again that night but the delicious chicken you bought to replace the bad beef looked, tasted, and smelt delicious when eaten with the rice and vegetables you had that day for lunch and dinner. It was perfect-

Until you continued to get sicker as the days rolled by.

It didn't happen every morning. Most morning you'd wake up nauseous but only sometimes you actually had to scramble to get to the back door or bathroom to empty out the contents of your stomach. Always leaving your throat sore and yourself irritated. At first you thought it was the food you'd been eating, so you went back to confront the butcher, but as he pointed out LOTS of people bought his quality meat. If the meat he was selling was truly bad, then a lot more people would've been there angry and demanding their money back...He had a point. No one else seemed to be getting sick. So it wasn't the meat. You then thought perhaps it was something the animals ate before they were made to be bought but that still didn't make sense because no one else was getting sick from their meat and the farmers all treated their livestock well. You inspected any other food in your home for any signs of mold or rotting, but they all were perfectly fine. You were very confused and worried at this point. What was making you sick then if it wasn't the food? You must've caught a stomach bug. Great. That meant you had to visit the local doctor for some medicine. You did that right before going into work one day but you were surprised when the young doctor looked you over before shaking his head.

"You're not sick."

You blinked. "I'm not-..What?"

"You're not sick. You don't show any signs of the flu or any kind of colds. You're very healthy for a young woman your age."

"What- That can't be true. Then why have I been sick for the last week?"

"Well if it's not something you ate, then maybe there's another factor making you feel ill. Are you under any stress or anxiety at all?"

"No. I've been perfectly fine."

"Aha! Then there might be mold or something else in your home that's causing this. I'd suggest looking around for anything out of the ordinary."

That doesn't make sense. You were sure you'd just caught a stomach bug. It always happens to people this time of the year. But if the doctor said that it wasn't then it must've been something else in your home. You decided to try experimenting to try and find that factor.

You thought maybe perhaps you were inhaling too much dust while you slept so you deep cleaned your house that day. No such luck you still got sick and felt nauseous the next two days. Maybe it was something in your sheets? You washed your entire wardrobe and futon well. Still sick. Maybe it was the soap you had in your home giving you an allergic reaction? You tried switching out the soaps and cleaning products in your home. You still threw up the next morning. Your last conclusion was perhaps maybe the house was too stuffy so you tried leaving one window open all day when you went to work. Your entire home was freezing when you got back but you were hopeful that now your problems would be solved-

...You got sick again the next morning.

"I must've caught something else that no one else has."

"Quite your whining and keep that scarf over your mouth!"

You gave a tired look over towards the older woman who only glared back sipping tea like somehow this entire thing was your fault. Ever since you first started becoming regularly sick, things had sucked for you. Sometimes you'd have to clean up any sudden sickness from your floors if you couldn't move fast enough and more than once it made you late. Well the old woman was getting suspicious by your repeated lateness and after forcing you to cough up an answer, had made you wear a scarf or cloth over your face and stay a good distance from here so she wouldn't 'catch anything.'

"I didn't mean it seriously. I'm only a bit tired. My throat is a bit sore from being sick for so long."

"Well quit your complaining. I don't need to hear about every detail of your woes when I have my own!"

You rolled your eyes going back to dusting the shelves. "What are you cooking?" You asked steering the topic away from your mysterious ailments. "Are you cooking fried rice?"

The old woman gave you a look like you were crazy. "Either that scarf is blocking the air too much or your cold has made your nose numb. Anyone can tell that I'm eating fish-"

"With fried rice and a nice boiled potato?" You paused. Somehow picturing the dish in mind making your mouth suddenly water and stomach silently growl like never before. "All with a wild berry pie covered in sauce and radish slices."

You hadn't bothered to take notice that no normal person would eat a pie with spicy sauce and radish slices sticks on top of it but the old woman did. She gave you a look like you were mad which made you blink and slowly realized what you said.

"Oh...That isn't what you're cooking?"

"Did you fall and hit your head?"

"N-No! Sorry. I guess not being able to eat breakfast and constantly losing my dinner later is making me hungry for different things I haven't eaten in a while."

Her brow rose before scoffing. "Whatever you say, but if you're smart you'll go see the doctor again. Maybe the fool will finally know what ails you."

Actually..that didn't sound like a bad idea. Maybe now he'd be able to tell you what was wrong since you've been sick for a little over a month now. Surely he'd at least have an idea. You had paid another visit to the young doctor. He was surprised to see you again after so long but you stumbled into whom must've been the man he was mentoring under. The older man watched silently as you and his pupil spoke about your condition and your growing concern for it.

"Nothing's changed?," he looked at you in surprise.

You nodded just sitting there. The old man obviously listening to the both of you talking but kept quiet and just sorted out a few medicinal herbs on a shelf. The soft clinking of the glass jars being moved about being some of the only noises filling the space.

"Yes. I've tried everything I could think of but I'm still getting sick, and now I've been getting headaches frequently too. I have no idea what's going on. I've had to have caught some kind of stomach virus."

"But I looked you over myself! You're not sick!," he insisted firmly furrowing a brow. "I'm looking at you right now, and I can still see that you're not sick!"

"Well obviously something is wrong with me!," you slightly yelled back in frustration frowning, "I'm getting sick almost ebery day! My head hurts constantly! It's starting to affect my life! I can't just live like this for the rest of my life!"

"Well there must be something you're not telling me! My diagnosis has never been wrong! You women are always worrying, so it's probably something mental and you're too full of yourself to notice!"

Your scowled hard at him and seriously debated in your mind if slapping some sense into him would work instead. However the sounds of someone clearing his throat distracted you from any doctor slapping thoughts as you both looked over at the older gentleman. He casually refilled a jar with dried herbs he had just crushed still not looking up at either of you.

"Pardon me for intruding into your business, but I couldn't help but overhear your unusual predicament," he spoke calmly without hurry, "Perhaps I might be of some help to you? I have much more experience after all. When you get to be my age, you see a lot of strange things that affect people."

The younger man instantly looked offended that his diagnosis dared to be challenged but you only happily smiled. Oh finally! Someone was taking you seriously!

You nodded. "I'd like that very much! Maybe you can help me?"

He only hummed. "Well now...This problem of yours, when did it start?"

"Almost a month ago now."

"What exactly are your symptoms? And please be specific."

"I keep vomiting and it's causing me some stress. My throat hurts a lot after it happens and a lot of the time I get headaches," you explained to him with a growing worry in your stomach as he calmly put a lid on the jar he was filling and VERY seriously turned to you.

"I see. And how often are you getting sick?"

"Almost every morning."

"Morning?" His brows rose and his eyes widened as if some realization took over him. His eyes looking down your body. "Are you getting sick in the mornings specifically?''

"Sometimes I get sick later in the day, and it doesn't happen every day but yes." You confirmed. "It's mostly in the mornings."

"...Have you been experiencing any other strange symptoms lately?," he asked slowly looking at you again. "Have you been more tired lately? Maybe perhaps your body has been unnaturally sore or you've been craving certain foods?"

You just stared at him for a long, long moment eyes widening with every word before you lit up brighter than a candle. "Yes! Yes to all of that! You described everything perfectly! That's exactly what I've been experiencing!" You happily clasped your hands smiling at him. Finally some answers. "You know how to fix this right?"

He didn't answer you at first before his eyes trailed down to rest on your middle for a long, long moment before he slowly stood up. "Can I look you over? Just to be sure of something."

"Oh? Of course. If you think it can help you with your diagnosis."

You stood still as he silently stood up and walked over to you, and slowly looked you over. Taking great care in looking you over before stepping back and just staring down at your middle before calmly inhaling and looking back to your face.

"Ma'am, I'm going to be very blunt with you. Do you have any children currently?"

You were certainly surprised that he'd ask you that. Why would he be asking if you had any children? Obviously you didn't! And you told him as such slowly shaking your head no confused. He sighed.

"That would explain your lack of knowledge."

"What are you talking about?"

He slowly looked you dead in the eyes calmly. Seriously. "Ma'am, I won't beat around the bush with you but.. You're pregnant."

Silence.

"... W-What?"

"You're pregnant," he repeated matter of factly before crossing his arms, "Not too far along either. You're only about a little more than a month if my old eyes are seeing correctly."

The silence engulfed everything around her. It felt as if giant hands were squeezing the home, pushing it's walls into her whilst they crumbled and collapsed around her at the same time a hole was swallowing her whole and a giant rock was shoved into her guts. The entirety of the world caved in around her, a ringing in her ears as all sound was lost. All vision blurring together.

Pregnant

The word was like an omen of bad luck and misfortune. Echoing through her skull and rattling her brain back and forth as it bounced around inside her mind.

Pregnant

An invisible hand squeezed around her throat choking her from air and squeezing all the blood as it drained from her face.

Pregnant.... Pregnant....Preg-

"I-I-I can't be pregnant!" You finally found your voice after spiraling for what felt like forever. Your face going white. Your breath quickening as you stared at the ever calm old man. "T-T-There must be s-some kind O-Of mist-take!"

"Nope!," he bluntly said without missing a beat not one for beating around the bush. Your body froze as if dunked in ice. "And you wouldn't be the first first-time-mother to tell me that I was wrong. I haven't been wrong with a pregnancy diagnosis yet."

"But...But this HAS to be a mistake!," you stressed holding up your hands to him and looking at the just as shocked younger doctor for back up..but the shocked younger man offered none. "T-There's no possible way for me to be pregnant!"

"Do you have a husband?" He asked bluntly.

"No."

"A fiance?"

"NO!!"

"Have you been with any man within the last month or so then?" You froze. A whiplash of realization coating your face. The old man saw the realization in your eyes and nodded. "Well there is your answer."

No. You hadn't been with a man.

He was a demon-

You jumped as the older man smiled fondly at you and patted your hands. "Never the less the good news is in order so..Congratulations! I'm sure you and your lover will be very blessed."

"Yes," his pupil agreed clearly his throat and nodding at you. "Congratulations to you. And I think we can all agree my diagnosis was still correct!" The old man rolled his eyes at him.

"You can't tell anyone!" Your sudden shout caught the two men off guard. You held up your hands in a panic. "Y-You can't tell anyone about this...I-...I w-want to tell him myself. A-After all this is.. personal."

The old man regarded your face before just simply nodding. "Understandable. I never really involved myself in the gossiping that people like to do around here. Rumors and gossip are a waste of time."

You looked at the younger man and so did the older doctor raising a brow. "Oh alright. It's not as if it would benefit me anyways."

With an approving nod the kind old man looked back to you and smiled. "You have our word. Truly the news of a new life joining our little town is always a joy. I'm sure you'll be very happy."

Happy.

You're supposed to be happy with this?

Everything was blurred together. Noises and sounds becoming one. You didn't even realized you had gotten home until you closed your front door. It slid shut as you slowly reached over to click the lock shut. There you stood quietly as silence ensued. And then all the panic and fear hit you at once. THUD!! Your body slumped against the door as your arms pressed against the hard wood, collapsing to your knees. Slumping against the door and letting the darkness claim you.

You awoke the next morning with a gasp and terror shooting through you veins. An honest to gods scream left your lips. You didn't know what you were screaming at or why. Maybe it was fear? Maybe it was the overwhelming situation? Maybe it was all of it or something else you couldn't explain at all. But whatever it was...it was relieving whatever fear paralyzed you leaving you numb and laid on the floor in the silence. Not a sound to be heard. Not a movement made. Just...an overwhelming calmness. A numb so numb that everything just felt calm..until feeling slowly returned to your mind and body. Reality of the situation hitting you as a new wave of panic hit you along with realization.

You were pregnant.

You were pregnant and the father was a demon.

It was bad enough that you were pregnant but the fact that the father was a demon. That came with it's own problems! For one..What would be a demon infant be like? Or would they be part demon? Would they be more human? What if they had inhuman features? Would they have extra eyes? Fangs? Claws? You had no idea. And that was the problem.

Demons weren't welcome here.

It wasn't a big secret that demons were widely hated amongst humans. Or at least in your village they were widely hated. The one man who came into into town with just an extra eye was treated horribly and ignored until he left town. At the time you stayed out of it because it wasn't any of your business and it didn't affect you. But now it WAS something that involved you. It literally now had everything to do with you! If you had children and they had demonic features-...At least you and them would be ridiculed and hated for the rest of your lives. At worse you'd be exiled out of town and run out like Nori was. And at the absolutely worst...You didn't want to think about that. But that wasn't the least of your worries.

What the hell would Kokushibo think?!

You've heard tales of women who fell in love with demons. It usually never ended well from the stories you heard told around the town. Of women in loveless marriages to terrible husbands and being forced to raise unloving children. Kokushibo did not seem anything like the stories, but what about his family? You didn't know anything about him. You didn't know where he came from, who his family was, who he fought for, or even if he even wanted children in the first place! You had no idea how he'd react with this! Thoughts swirled in your mind. He could die on the battlefield. He could just not come back at all. He could want nothing to do with this and leave you to raise a child alone! You never wanted to be in a situation like this! But one thing was clear to you-

No one could ever find out about this...

No one. Not anyone else from the village. Definitely not your boss...And not Kokushibo. It was all too dangerous. Too risky. Too many unpredictable things could happen. None good. But there was no going back on this.

But you couldn't hide this forever.

It was bad enough two people already knew about it. They said they weren't going to tell and there was no way they knew Kokushibo was a demon, but you couldn't just hide this forever. It was easy to hide for now..but your stomach would grow and eventually this baby would be born. People will notice. They'll be asking questions about it. They'll question who the father is since everyone knew you weren't seeing anyone.

This was not good.

Your day was spent pondering, worrying, thinking, pacing, grabbing your stomach,..until you finally knew what you had to do.

You had to leave.

It was the only option. The only SAFE option. You'd have to leave everything behind before anyone found out anything else about this. Thus..you planned. You had to leave, that was clear enough and you had no other options. But where would you go? The small inn near you had a giant map mounted on it's wall for any travelers who just happened to stop by and stay at the tavern, or just for anyone who needed directions. Perfect. You took the next day off without telling anyone to visit said map mounted on the large wall. Turns out it really came in handy as it showed miles of land around you. The warlords and war itself were too the east with both forces occupying most of the north and south sides of the fighting. That was also where danger was.

Where Kokushibo was. Fighting.

You wanted to avoid all of that, so the safest option was to travel westward. That was neutral territory of powerful people who didn't want to be involved in the war. It would be the safest shelter for you and with all the money you collected from Kokushibo, you'd be able to settle down somewhere easily. You weren't sure what you were going to do once you got there but it would do for now. Now you just had to plan. For now you had to act natural and pretend as if nothing was wrong at all. You'd have to gather a few supplies and make a small map for your trip, but it'd be worth it.

Your boss wasn't happy when you came in the next day with the scarf back over your mouth. "Where were you!? You didn't show up at all for the last two days!"

"I'm sorry. I wasn't feeling too well after seeing the doctors."

She scoffed rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. "That's no excuse. What did he say?"

"Turns out I have the stomach flu," you lied as naturally as you could. "The doctor said I should stay home for a few days and rest. I just came to tell you."

"Hmph! Of course you out of everyone would get sick! Fine. But since you bothered to show up today, you're working! Now get in here and stack these shelves!"

You didn't fight her orders and only worked that day as you usually did, although a pit formed in your stomach the entire time. The next day while your boss thought you were home sick, you took the time to go over to the inn for a little while pretending to sit down and sketch but really you were drawing a quick map of the area you planned on going, and then stopped by a few places to buy the things that you needed. A warmer coat. A bag. Some food that wasn't very likely to go bag on your long travel. However you were hit with even more shocking news. The fur trade where Nori's parents owned. You were getting a new coat. The thick rabbit fur coat was perfect for winter and you in the middle of paying a woman a good few gold pieces for it. She was no doubt one of the seamstresses who worked here to sew the coats together.

"That's a good coat. Planning ahead for the real nasty winter months huh?," she commented.

"Oh. Y-Yes! I need something better if I want to stay warm! The owners really do make the best coats."

She nodded. "They do." She sighed sadly. "It's just a shame they haven't been around as much. Ever since their son's death, they've been cooped up at home."

You immediately paused coat in hand. "...What?"

"Their son. Nori," she explained before looking around before leaning over to whisper. "He was the one who was killed by the wild beast over a month ago now." You froze. "His folks haven't been the same since."

"...Ah. I..did not know that."

Nori ...was the one dead from the hunting party?

You thought it was really strange that he hadn't come back after threatening to take you later that week when he first showed up, but you thought Kokushibo had just successfully scared him away with his threats. You had no idea that he was-.....That he..HOW?! Nori was an absolute asshole, but he was actually talented with hunting. Before he was exiled even, you once saw him drag a bear into town by himself. One of the only giant predators that actually wondered around here. So why did he end up dying? If Nori could hold his own to against a bear, then what could've been strong enough to kill him?

...A demon could be strong enough.

Kokushibo disappeared the same night Nori died. ...That couldn't be a coincidence. Could it? You still remembered what Kokushibo said to Nori before he threw him out of your house.

"Should our paths cross again for whatever reason...I will be the last thing you see before death claims you."

What if Kokushibo and Nori had accidentally ran into each other that night? What if he did what he told you?

"If he returns, he does. I warned him. If he so chooses to not listen to that warning then he'll face the consequences of his own actions. I never go back on my word."

If they had ran into each other that night...Then Kokushibo very much could've kept his word. He could've been responsible for Nori's death! If he didn't outright kill him then what if Nori saw him and confronted Kokushibo instead? Nori was one to instigate fights and he already tried to attack Kokushibo once. If he tried to do it again then it could've lead to them fighting and Kokushibo killing him in defense.

Whatever the reason, this wasn't good. You were the last one aside from the other hunters and Kokushibo that saw Nori alive. Everyone already knew about his obsessive crush on you. No one besides you knew about Kokushibo anyways unless Nori told them, but considering that no one showed up at your door demanding to see Kokushibo, Nori hadn't told anyone about the demon. Which meant that left only...YOU. Everyone knew how upset you were over Nori. What if someone eventually gets the idea of that you might've had a hand in his murder? Even if you didn't, no one might believe you. You could end up being blamed for the crime! On top of that Sabo just so happened to burn to death in a house fire the same night as Nori getting attacked by an alleged wild animal? You still remembered what Kokushibo said to Nori too.

"If I should hear you came to bother this woman again, I'll keep my promise and be sure that you never speak again."

Both Sabo and Nori had connections to Kokushibo in the worst ways possible. And both were also unsuccessful in courting you. Both were widely known to be turned down and disliked by you. Someone could make that connection. Someone could also blame you for Sabo's house burning down. Someone like your boss. You could possibly be blamed for both deaths or for having some part in them!!

You were in more terrible danger than you thought.

You had to leave.

And you had to leave SOON.

But there was one last thing you had to take care of before you left. Some closure for your mind before you left forever. You visited the small cemetery outside of town. A particular pair of headstones to be exact. Worn slightly from being there for a few years. You ended up placing a small offering on each of your parents graves before standing there for a long, long time silently. This would be the last time you were going to be able to see them again.

"I'm so sorry," was the only thing you could manage to say to them as tears were shed.

Night fell. The cold silence falling over the town. Mothers called their children in to sleep. Men returned home from their jobs to rest their tools until the next day. Lanterns and candles were put out until the next time they'd be lit. All quiet. Silent. No one outside or looking out windows in this cold night. A perfect night for you too leave.

Your back door opened as you stepped out. You decided taking the back way out would be more safer in case for some reason someone was out. You closed the door behind you as quietly as you could before sneaking around the side of your house and peeking out. The streets were silent and empty. You adjusted the large bag on your back as you carefully scanned the windows in the dark for any movement. It was filled with all of your supplies along with a few changes of clothes. You'd need them for the long trip. The cold wind blew across your form making you shiver. Ok. No one was up near you and everyone else was asleep. You left the fireplace going too so even if someone looked out, they'll see the smoke coming from your chimney and not think anything else was suspicious. For once you were glad living on the very edge of town. Quickly and quietly you dashed across the roads heading towards the woods westward. That's where you wanted to go. You had gotten to the forest edge when you paused and turned back around.

To take one last look at your village.

This is where you grew up. This is your home. Your first everything was here. Your whole livelihood was built here...but it couldn't last. Not unless you wanted to remain safe. Not if you want this CHILD to be safe. Turquoise eyes shined with tears as they looked over everything before turning.

Silently her form slipped away into the night. No one the wiser to her missing.

#yandere michikatsu tsugikuni #yandere michikatsu x reader #demon slayer michikatsu #michikatsu x reader #kny michikatsu #michikatsu tsugikuni #yandere kokushibou #kokushibo x reader #kny kokushibo #kokushibo #kokushibou #yandere kokushibo #yandere kokushibo x reader #Kny #kimetsu gakuen #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #in the moon's shadow

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imzsuzsis-blog · 3 months

Text

—————————

Dream ( Lando)

“Loki? Hello?"

I was in some white place, a blanket on me, I couldn't move.

“Someone? Hello? Where am I?"

I stroked my belly.

"Where are my twins?"

I cried because there was a fresh scar there.

"Hey, new mom, or should I say it quietly to dad, if you could take a break. I just gave birth, just like you, even though you're a star, even you just gave birth. So stop whining please. Us average people know from the news that they broke up with this certain Loki back in July. After that, she tried unsuccessfully with even more boys of him age because they all said that a boy can't be pregnant."

I craned my neck back, my cell phone nowhere, to look at this nonsense on the internet. Because we definitely didn't break up, I love him.

"Lando Norris, I brought some people."

"Leah, Penelope."

I took them trembling, then I realized that it was really over with Loki, I was left alone with two babies. I looked at them, they are really a mixture of Ollie and myself, they are so beautiful.

"My beauties, my God. It's a pity that the abbots aren't here either, we're breaking up with the foster abbots. Because of a grudge.”

With tears in my eyes, I started to kiss them, and I didn't want to let them go.

"But you have to, dear."

Mother sat down next to me and stroked my hair and I shook my head.

"If I've done it all the way up to now, I can do it all the way now. I am already an adult, a twenty-five year old adult. I won't give them away forever. They are my daughters and I can raise them, their room is waiting for them."

"I know, but you gave up Formula 1 because of them. You even moved from Monaco to avoid the news about you and them. Now what?"

She stroked them too, not just me.

"I will finish my medical degree and fulfill my dream."

"Lando, it's not your dream, it's your father's, it's only you who lived it, that's why you're going to the doctor's office now by mail. You don't belong there, you could become a very good actor, maybe a singer, you are talented in these. Remember the casting of the Avengers, when your friend Tom called you... How would you not like to try what you would really be like in his place, as Spider-Man. How clever you were, you wove webs, climbed walls and jumped everywhere and enjoyed it.”

Mother smiled at me, I just shook my head, I knew where my path was leading.

"My mother was with me for half a year, it was a big party, but I wouldn't try it again. I'm sorry, but it's not my way."

I looked at her and Leah as I woke up next to her sister, a minute here or there will not count, only that they grow up in love and that I find them another daddy. Who is not dismissive like everyone else towards me.

———————-

Real

"Mom, I'm going to be a doctor!!!! Leave me!!!!!"

I woke up sweaty and screaming again like the day before the race, Loki and Max comforted me. Then I dreamed that everything went wrong at home during the birth, then mother and father had a fight, then the Olivers, then Max and Pietra and all of them because the good boy suddenly became ugly.

"My treasure"

He knelt down in front of me and started stroking my face in circles.

"Dream and depression are a bit much for you, my dear. You dream up a lot of madness."

"I know, and the reason for all this is the fucking adoption papers. What Ollie throws out, saying that he is responsible for making mistakes, I want to take responsibility too... But it's not my management that won't let me, they gave me this fucking paper and I don't have much time to do it."

I opened my laptop and the first thing that came up was an email to review the ideal foster parents. In my anger, I wrote back that no, I can decide whether to raise two girls or not to leave them alone!!!!! Also, I'm twenty-four, a fully responsible adult, don't let them decide what I wear and where, who I date, where I live, who my friends are or whether I'm pregnant and whether I want to raise my child or not. I looked to my side, read the paper and took deep breaths.

"You know what, Loki gets caught."

I tore the sled apart, threw it up and started giggling.

"I'm a father!!!!"

I squealed with joy and kissed Loki on the lips, who, after taking off his top, began to tease us with his fingertips. He ran sexily into my hair and we started moaning more and more softly.

“Sex?"

"I don't know, but there's blood in your underwear."

"You're stupid, aren't you?"

I looked at him in horror and I was in pain again.

“Which? Strong?"

"How the hell do I know???? Ugh!!!!”

I stood up and crossed my palms in front of me and took deep breaths.

,.Amanda now!!!!”

"I'd rather not put my feet up somewhere."

"What's up my dear, we'll go and that's it, home practices won't help right now."

———————

Dream (Loki)

I've been a star on the internet since July, when he broke up with me. In almost every video or picture, either he or I is crying about the breakup.

"Billy, this sucks, I know it was short, but it's true love."

I told my brother that we may only be half-siblings, but we still tell each other everything.

"Loki, don't whine. You were the bastard for getting him engaged so soon. To you, because he was pregnant from her previous relationship, the guy."

"This is not about the fucking engagement!!!! And not because the guy was pregnant, but because the fucking media won't leave me alone!!!!"

"Do you still love him? Where did your relationship go wrong?”

"It must have been when he finally admitted that he was in love with Oscar. It could still be something he is holding on to from before his kidnapping, or I don't know."

Crying, I looked at Insta, where I saw that was all.

"Finally, the little ones were born, they're fit and healthy."

Burying my face in my palms, I got into my car and went to my usual place at the gas station, because it's in a nice place, I can park in the vicinity, and I can walk up the hill and I always sit on one of the benches when I want solitude.

"Be..."

"I'm not going, our relationship with Lando ended badly, we had a rough time on the open street. Millions of videos attest that it was.”

"Really..."

"Oliver, I say no. Lando doesn't want to see me, he even hates me."

I went through…

“Loki!!!! Not!!!! Ambulance!!!”

—————————

Real

"I was hit by a fucking car, fuck me!!!!!"

I just felt that Lando was prodding me and stroking my face to wake me up.

"My dear, if you could, you could even perform this screaming show on stage."

He told me both erotically and sarcastically, so that all the women in the clinic would giggle at this.

"The way you put it, it wasn't fucking funny, bitch!!!!"

"But, but Loki... You screamed, in public. Not me!!!! Where the hell are you going? My love."

"From now on, the pregnancy is your fucking business, cheater!"

"But fuck it!!!! I've said it a hundred times, I'm trying to get my lost memories back!!!!!! I am not a cheater and I would never be cheated!!!!!!”

“This is bullshit!!!!! The way you look at Oscar... You're in love with him!!!!!"

"It's not true, it's just business!!!!"

"Lando, Loki, please don't get lost here!"

"No, if you tell the truth... Oscar or me."

He took off him hat and threw it on the floor like a fucking diva.

"You, but Oscar saw them being kidnapped!!!! Are you happy now!!!!"

"Stupid whore!!!"

I slapped him, got up and left.

Or knocking on my door for thousands of years.

"Who the hell is that???"

"I'm at Lando, let me in!!!!"

I let him in. His face was teary, his lips were parted and he was shaking from everything.

“What happened? old warrior."

I let him in and he stopped at the wall and barely took a breath. He put his fingers to his mouth, on which the sleeve of his pullover was half pulled up, and it was chewed, as were the cords of his coat.

"I confessed everything to him, but we had a rough fight."

"Fuck me, Lando. But what the hell?”

"I don't know, he figured it out!!!! He said that I was looking at Oscar."

"Who, what, here we go?"

“Patoooooo!!!!! Max, help me!!!!!!"

He fell on our necks and sobbed soundlessly.

"What are you saying?"

"That I'm cheating on you."

"But, but that's not true of you, when we were together you wouldn't have done that for any money."

"I know, Pato. It's a fucking concoction he made up."

"What will happen?"

"Breakup."

He hissed between his teeth, he couldn't take it anymore and we saw him calling his mother.

"What are you saying?"

"That this is a real relationship and that we talk about it."

"Are you telling her the truth?"

"She knows in broad daylight that she was kidnapped from the open street, no, I don't give mom the truth."

"Oliver?"

"It's good that you joke about it, really not."

"Anyone married in the field?"

"Sergio? Good… Pick it up… Please!!!!”

We all saw that he cried more, he probably took Lando's side in the matter. We also knew what a jealous type Loki is, their relationship can no longer survive this.

"On the one hand, he's still here, so he comes here, on the other hand, he thinks he's a jealous dick, and he thinks I should throw him away as soon as possible. There will be another.”

He almost tore the ring from the new one with our help and threw it far away, with an angry face, but not only that, but also the bracelet he received not long ago, he threw it far away and screamed.

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actorsmask · 2 months

Text

You Will Be Found.

Words: 2,110

Everything hurts.

Their entire body hurt. The cut on their face, their arms and legs from escaping the hospital, the still not healed bruises on their body hidden by their clothes. Everything hurt, it was all painful.

But it wasn’t as painful as the agonizing feeling they felt in their chest. In the shattered heart that had been used and torn apart little by little. They could feel themselves crying again as they slumped against a wall and sat on the floor.

They sat there for a while, staring at the dumpster in front of them with their hand covering the left side of their face. They felt the gauze and bandages on it and had the urge to throw up as they recalled how they got the wound in the first place, standing up quickly and retching into the nearest trash can they could find. A strangled cry left their mouth as they wiped it, coughing a few more times before standing back upright, blinking away the tears gathering in their eyes.

… Everything hurts…

…

And they’re hungry. And thirsty.

Ideally, they would’ve bought food and water. But that wretched woman left them nothing when she threw them out of her house and locked the door, so they didn’t exactly have the funds necessary to buy a decent meal. They could always steal what they needed…

But why even bother anymore? Why even try anymore?

That woman did a lot of wrongs, but was she really wrong about them? Look at them now, sulking in some random alleyway when they were retching into a trash can mere moments before. They cry about the pain, about how everything hurts, but isn’t it their fault for not standing up earlier? For running from the hospital when the doctors were just trying to help?

… They needed a breather…

They stood up on shaky legs, taking a moment to get rid of the way the world spun around their head. Once the dizziness was gone, they started walking along the alleyway again, not knowing where they wanted to go.

They walked,

And they walked,

Until they had heard glass shattering, loud and boisterous laughter, jazz music being played, and the chatter of people.

They quickly turned towards the source of all this noise, face scrunching up in annoyance at the sudden disturbance of quiet as they rubbed their ears a bit. For a while, they debated with themself in their head on whether to go towards the noise or to just walk away.

After a few more minutes, they sighed and decided to go towards the source of the noise.

But they didn’t expect the source to be some sort of… Run down tavern? How does it even make that much noise?

Well… If its patrons are making that much noise, it means the drinks must be good… Right..? And if they die, then they die. It’s not like they had a reason to live right now anyways, and they could always steal someone's wallet to pay for the drinks. So they decided to enter the tavern.

Who knew it would change the entire trajectory of their life?

The tavern looked much nicer on the inside than the outside, what looked like hundreds of people of all kinds of species and types were inside drinking. A lot were either singing their hearts out, talking animatedly with friends, or just passed out on the floor or chair.

It was a normal looking tavern, but what set this particular one out was that all of them were wearing actor’s masks. They had only seen these kinds of masks in a circus, magic shows, or movies. So it was a bit unnerving, but otherwise? They didn’t really care. Judging by the patrons, the drinks were definitely strong.

Whilst they were trying to find the counter, they hadn’t noticed how all the Masks had started to stare at them, all of them whispering and gossiping about the sudden appearance of what looks to be a rugged teenager. After all, not many street rats suddenly wander into the World’s End.

Close by, a certain blue-haired and green-eyed Fool watched the street rat closely from under his mask.

Eventually, they found the bar counter and sat at one of the stools, waving down the bartender and asking for a drink on the more mild side. To which he laughed and started making their drink, replying with: “Someone as young as you should enjoy yourself more!”

As they were waiting for their drink, a bunch of Fools had started to talk to them, laughing gleefully with their short and blunt answers.

“This is the World’s End! A place for everyone that enters to have fun and abandon it all~! And you, little Jane Doe, seem like you need a laugh!”

“I just want a dri–”

“Ah, ah, ah! You definitely need more than just a drink, come and play a game of cards with us!”

They wanted to refuse, but it seemed like the Masked strangers wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, so they reluctantly followed them to a table after getting their drink. This should be fine, right? None of the strangers seemed to have malicious intent anyways.

They played a few games with the Fools, finding themselves smiling and laughing again the more the game went on, the more they drank. It was… Relieving. To no longer think about what had happened to them, to just forget it all. To just laugh instead of crying was an amazing feeling. Laughter is unique to man, after all.

“Bartender, another drink if you would!”, they had called out cheerfully, laughing with their fellow players. Another drink, another card place, and a game won. More laughter, less crying. Chips placed onto the table and cheers followed shortly after.

Stories were shared, songs were sung, people danced, glasses were clinked together in cheers, everyone was laughing and living in the moment.

They felt absolutely elated!

These series of events continued throughout the night, tears now fully forgotten and replaced with the biggest smile that had ever been seen on their face throughout the past 2 years. At last, they had forgotten everything that woman had done to them.

But this kind of elation doesn’t last forever. Everyone sobers up eventually, everyone leaves the bar and goes back home. Either to an empty house, a family, a friend, or even a lover. But they didn’t have that. Not anymore.

So when the adrenaline of the night washed away, and the haze of alcohol was removed(quite forcefully in the toilet), they had put down some money that they had stolen throughout the night on the countertop before turning to leave. It was a fun night, and they would’ve liked to stay. But they can’t just stay in a Tavern forever. Even if they didn’t have a home or house to go back to.

They were about to reach for the doorknob when the lights suddenly turned off. After momentarily freaking out, a giant spotlight was shined down upon them and the Tavern lights were turned on, but only slightly to give off an ambience.

A few feet away from them stood a Fool they hadn’t met throughout their short stay in the Tavern. Blue hair, tall, and in a suit wearing gloves. His face was covered with an orange mask with a large smile on it. Then he laughed, clapping his hands together.

“An amazing performance, I must say! Despite knowing absolutely nothing about the people here, you had a drink and laughed with them! Even playing a few games here and there. Just when it seemed like you had enough will to flip off a roof as well!”

That made them flinch. They didn’t want to do that!... Well, kind of. No! No, they didn’t. At least not with a flip– No.

“Uhm… Tha-Thank you..?”

The Fool had laughed again, now rubbing his hands together.

“You’re most welcome! But I must say, you’re rather… Interesting. Despite most likely going through hell and back, you still managed to laugh throughout the night! I once again commend you for that.”

Where was he going with this? They were confused as hell now, and they kind of wanted to run away.

“Now, you must be thinking: ‘What the heck is this guy saying?!’ Hahahaha~! Well, I have a question for you.”

The man had suddenly sounded more serious, more Fools watching by the sidelines and whispering about the current situation. The redhead he was talking to was backed up against the door in slight fear.

“What is it?”

“Glad you asked! You see, a lot of my fellow Fools, even myself, have gone through things throughout our lives and still found the energy to laugh!”

Then he took off his mask, revealing his sharp green eyes and near cheshire cat smirk.

“We, the Masked Fools, follow that. Follow The Elation. And you, my dear friend, have the potential to be a rather… Unique kind of Masked Fool. So what I’m trying to say is: Would you like to become a Fool, just like us?”

This made them freeze, eyes widening as they processed his question. Them? Become a Masked Fool? Ridiculous! They only laughed because they were drunk! And besides, why would they..?

As they were contemplating it, the man laughed and took a step closer to them.

“Aw c’mon! Why the hesitance? You didn’t seem that nervous earlier, hm?”

This made them laugh nervously, clearing their throat and trying to find an answer.

“I-I…”

Did they really want to join an organization like the Masked Fools? What if they regretted it? What if this ends up being bad in the long run.

The man’s eyes softened slightly, and he slowly out-stretched a hand for them to take.

“The Fools ain’t as bad as people say they are, ya know? Besides, maybe while with us, you can find that reason to keep on living.”

“...”

Another step forward, multiple eyes watching the two.

“What do you say? Care to spread elation under the protection of The Laughter?”

They looked at his hand, then up at his face. The man wasn’t lying at all. So maybe…

“... What’s your name..?”

“Call me Sampo Koski, friend. And what about you?”

After a moment of silence, a hand much smaller than Sampo’s shook his own out-stretched hand.

“Blythe. My name is Blythe, Mr. Sampo.”

A smile spread across Sampo’s face, reaching his other hand out to ruffle Blythe’s hair.

“Nice to meet ya, Blythe. And welcome to the Masked Fools!”

Blythe didn’t know whether this would be good for them or not, but they could always think about that another time. Right now? They just want to try and find themself again. And maybe, just maybe,

That laughter would help them find them.

Small extra:

Blythe walked into their newly appointed bedroom and sat down on the bed, still in a bit of a daze. Now they’re a member of the Masked Fools… How was this gonna turn out for them?

Before they could spiral, the door opened again to reveal Sampo again. They looked up before they felt a hand ruffling their hair again, making them squeak and quickly duck their head away from him.

“My hair…”

“I think you have more issues than your hair, Blythey!”

“Please don’t call me that, Mr. Sampo.”

“Alright then, don’t call me Mr. Sampo! I’m not your boss, y’know?”

He sat down beside them, ruffling their hair again and making them squeak. They didn’t move away this time.

“It feels weird to call you just Sampo though…”

That made him laugh a bit, shaking his head.

“Then~ How about you just call me big brother?”

“Big brother?”

“Yes?”

“...”

They sighed in slight disappointment as Sampo laughed again, then he calmed down and placed a hand on their shoulder.

“But really, you have more concerns than your hair, my now newly appointed little sib! That cut on your cheek, your horrid state of body, your tattered hair and clothes…”

“... oh.”

“Not to worry! Sampo Koski will save the day! After you shower, your amazingly handsome big brother will take you shopping for new stuff! Anything ya like!”

“Anything I like..?”

“Anything you like!”

Blythe stared at Sampo for a hot minute, feeling a bit suspicious at his generosity. He was still a Masked Fool after all… But he seemed like the most sane Fool around. And besides, they have a feeling he’s trustworthy for some reason…

“Uhm… Okay, then.”

“Perfect! Just holler from your door when you’re done, alright? Good ‘ol big brother will be waiting downstairs!”

Thanks for reading! Sorry if it seems like Sampo is OOC here. I tried to make it so that he was still the Sampo we all know and love, but still has a side to him that lets him care for people close to him.

And sorry if anything seemed rushed! I really wanted to finish this.

Thank you once again for reading, and follow if you wanna see more of Blythe :D

#actor's mask tries to write!#hsr oc #hsr ocs #honkai star rail oc #hsr sampo #honkai star rail sampo #honkai star rail original character #hsr original character #honkai star rail ocs #hsr fanfic #honkai star rail fanfic #rp oc #ocs #oc fanfic #fanfic #hsr #honkai star rail #Blythe lore and tidbits!

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obsessedwithlute · 6 months

Text

All That I'd Got ~ Lute x OC Fic *Chapter One*

@oneoftheeggs

"Heaven is just as fucked up as Hell is. Maybe even more so."

Adam took in a little girl and raised her to be his weapon. But something clearly went wrong when she fell in love with the Exorcist. So what to do besides banish her to hell? Clearly, he underestimated her, because she somehow manages to survive being Angel Dust's roommate.... And now she's out for revenge.

He was late. Why the hell was he late? Elorie had followed him for a week, memorized his schedule, enlisted a fucking hacker to gain access to his calendar.

And yet the one day her existence depended on his showing up, Angel Dust couldn’t be bothered to arrive at the bar. Such was her luck. The bartender stormed over to Elorie’s table and demanded to know why she hadn’t bought a drink.

Elorie decided not to mention she’d never consumed alcohol and ordered something random. She took a few sips of the drink while staring at the decrepit door. It tasted like shit.

Suddenly, the door slammed open and the very pink-clad spider demon she had been looking for stormed inside. Not one to wait around, Elorie made her way across the bar towards Angel Dust and clapped her hand on his shoulder.

The sinner spun around and stared at her. “What?” he demanded. “It’s my night off, so you can wait until tomorrow.”

“Not interested,” Elorie said. “Trust me, I picked your night off for a reason. We need to talk, free of distractions.”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” the pornstar asked.

“No,” Elorie told him. “I’m just someone who needs your help.”

“This is hell, toots,” Angel told her. “No one helps anyone here.”

“Believe me, I’m painfully aware,” Elorie said. “But still, I’m asking for your help. Because what do I have to lose?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Angel Dust asked, winking.

“I suppose this is the part where I tell you my whole backstory and repent for all my sins?” she asked, tilting her head to one side.

“What…”

Shit. This is hell. Remember that, you idiot.

“Okay, so because you obviously can’t take anything other than a straight statement, I will simply give you one. I want to live in your apartment. I will pay half the rent. I will not be leaving except for when I want to and when we’re out of food.”

“Straight?” Angel laughed. “Perish the thought.”

“Yes or no? I don’t have all day,” Elorie hissed.

“Elorie, we’re dead. Neither of us need food.” “First of all, I like food. Second of all, why do you care? Third of all, give me a fucking answer.”

Angel Dust slouched into a chair. “Why don’t you answer a question of my own first?” Elorie towered above him, glaring. “And that question would be…?”

“Why do you want to stay at my apartment?”

“Uh, I need a roof over my head. I’m virtually broke but somehow Lucifer still implements fucking rent fees. And you’re my ideal roommate.”

“How the hell am I your ‘ideal roommate’?” Angel demanded.

“You like pink, you won’t be around a lot and you’re only ninety-eight percent an asshole,” Elorie said primly.

“Most people would consider that to be a high asshole percentage,” the spider demon said, batting his eyelashes.

“Well, it’s your lucky day, because I don’t!” Elorie announced. She stared at him. “Think of the extra alcohol you can buy with that money that won’t have to go to rent…” She waved her hand in front of his face like a crystal.

Angel smirked. “Well, who am I to say no to alcohol? Ground rules are feed Fat Nuggets when he asks and no asking questions.”

“Who or what is a Fat Nug-”

Angel Dust waved his finger. “Uh-uh-uh. I said no questions.” Elorie rolled her eyes.

c. 100 years previously

Elorie stomped her foot on the arrow buried in the ground. She let out a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan. She’d been trying for weeks to find a weapon she could actually fight with, but to no avail.

The arrow cracked in half and Elorie bent down to pick it up and throw it away. A few tears pricked her eyes, but she brushed them away quickly. “Crying won’t make you stop sucking,” she whispered to herself.

Elorie disposed of the arrow and stormed back to the training grounds, struggling to lift up a sword that was too heavy for her, but just maybe if she could wield it, it would show them just how strong she was!

Strong enough to be an Exterminator, to be worthy, to be noticed.

Elorie’s wings tensed as she dragged the blade over to a dummy target and swung as hard as she could at it.

She collapsed to the ground, out of breath.

“Wow,” someone said from above her. “Who the hell thought it was a good idea to have a little kid at the training area?”

Elorie looked up and wrinkled her nose when she saw who it was. “Lute,” she hissed. “You’re barely three years older than me. We’re both just little kids. But I need to practice so I can get better.”

“Mm-hm, and how’s that working out for you?” The angel rolled her eyes. “You can’t fight with that thing. I doubt that even I could.” “You’re not that good,” Elorie protested. “And besides, we both Adam would make me an Exorcist sooner than he would you.”

“I’m better than you. And I always will be. Just because you’re Adam’s sister doesn’t mean that you’re better than me. When has he ever played favorites with you?”

Elorie racked her brain for one time, coming up empty. “Well- well-” she sputtered- “If you’re so good, why don’t you teach me?!” Lute laughed. “Yeah, no. I’ve got better things to do with my time.” She paused, something strange flickering across her face. Then she sighed and searched in her pocket for something, removing a glittering, sharp javelin. She threw it in front of Elorie. “Here. Just… take it. Pretend you’re stabbing me or something.”

Then she raised her wings to the air and left.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin lute #hazbin oc #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #listen in my mind lute is gay and secretly on hell's side alright #hazbin hotel angel #hazbin angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #first time writing rivals to lovers so please excuse my shit #also if anyone recognizes the reference in the title please tell me i will be overjoyed

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starguardianniom · 2 years

Text

The Lila Alliance AU

Remember the alliance ring Sabine wanted to give Marinette in Jubilation? The one with the Lila avatar?

I swear it would have been interesting to see Marinette interact with the fake Lila.

Frankly, the only reasons she would not take the al Adrien is because she would never get anything done if he was her avatar, as she would drool over him all day probably and wouldn't want any more teasing of her crush on him via having him at all times in her ring.

Even when saying that it does sounds far-fetched, like a lot, too, but still, just for this, hear this out, if people can make Lila become Marinette's best friend in salt fics over the rest of the class who go too far in their behavior of not siding with Marinette over Lila, then this concept should be easier to accept.

With the Lila avatar, some light revenge through it sounds fun.

She can make her wear some ridiculous costumes, could probably make her call "Your queen" or something else ridiculous, heck she could probably get the Lila al to get her name changed to Super Liar or something, and get her to say a lot of stupid stuff. Maybe she could even design some ridiculous outfits for her to wear, like that banana man costume, and the virtual Lila would still wear it with a smile on her face.

Point is, Marinette get some fun out of humiliating the virtual Lila as she can't do anything against the real one for now.

This would be her therapy. And revenge, don't forget the revenge.

Of course, the fake Lila doesn't mind or notice that it is wrong, she's an al and doesn't have feelings nor is affected by the real Lila's hatred of Marinette in the show.

The fake Lila is nice and takes it all graciously, to her, her owner has a lot of free time on her hands to come up with all of this stuff. She's not there to judge.

It makes Marinette angrier because the fake Lila is basically the ideal image of what the real Lila likes to pretend to be normally.

It somehow makes Marinette sad that she can only like a fake Lila who's not at all who she knows, just like everyone else on the show who thinks Lila is actually as nice as her al.

The irony is not lost at all here.

Cherry on the cake, the real Lila is not aware of this at all.

And yes of course, Marinette takes the ring off when she transforms into Ladybug, she tries to leave it in her room, her locker at school, or with Alya when she can, or if not, in the first dumpster that she can find because no one would bother to think that someone would throw away an alliance ring in the trash, even less getting the trash picked up while there's an akuma attack.

Marinette gets to humiliate Lila in a way that doesn't affect neither of them, nor actually hurt anyone's feelings, as the al Lila doesn't care at all, she's not programmed to.

And no one else actually knows about it, except of course Tikki.

That would be the only Pettinette/Saltinette that I would accept in any form to be honest. Or the Marinette salt taken in some funny and unorthodox way that somehow works without making her look like a jerk in front of anyone or hurt anyone's feelings and it all works out and you can actually laugh about it without feeling horrible about it.

It's really some mindless fun and revenge but not actually taken on the actual person, just a virtual copy of themselves.

Like, you play the sims, make a character based on someone you hate, and you make them do stupid stuff, without hurting for real the actual person.

Again, the real Lila isn't hurt at all in this, as her avatar who is with Marinette is the only one who gets humiliated, except given it's a program, of course she has no feelings or opinions or shame, so it works for Marinette who doesn't get flak for being on the real Lila's case when she's doing stuff to her al, which is entirely legal given said virtual Lila is a virtual paper doll that can be dressed in all kinds of different and maybe some funny costumes and can be customized to say all the weird stuff of the earth, so the joke would be on the developers who didn't think this through more, not on Marinette, nor really Lila.

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #lila rossi #marinette salt #ml season 5 #ml jubilation #ml season 5 spoilers #ml s5 leaks

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creepercraftguy · 2 years

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NAEGIRI WEEK Day 5 - Autumn

Help comes from an unexpected place when Kyoko struggles to pick out the right outfit for her and Makoto’s autumn time date.

@naegiriweek

Full Story below the cut. You can also find the story on my WattPad - https://www.wattpad.com/1290871841-naegiri-week-2022-creepercraftguy-day-5-autumn

(Also, I’m chuffed that Mod Capnii and I basically had the same idea)

"Ok...Sorry...you're gonna have to repeat it for me one more time because I'm just confused..." Toko Fukawa, the Ultimate Writing Prodigy stood in the middle of the school dorms hallway, staring up and down at Kyoko Kirigiri's figure in front of her, "so I'm just going to ask once more...Why are you covered in g-glitter?"

Toko's words were indeed true. Kyoko Kirigiri, the usually elegant straight-postured and maturely dressed detective looked very out of character. Instead of wearing her casual clothes or her uniform, she stood in the hallway, wearing shorts, a black crop-top and with glitter smothered in her hair.

Which was not a good look for her. Even someone scruffy like Toko couldn't help but point it out.

"If you must hear it again, I'll give you the quick version," Kyoko grumbled, clearly just as happy about her situation as you'd expect her to be, "I have a date with Makoto at the park in a bit. Sayaka dragged me up to her room an hour beforehand and invited all the other girls to "help" me pick a good outfit for it. As you can see, things went wrong, and they ended up doing the exact opposite of that."

"That still doesn't explain the glitter..." Toko snarked.

"Komaru thought the outfit Hina picked for me needed to be more sparkly, so she tried throwing a glitter bomb on it. That's why I'm like this..." Kyoko explained.

"K-Komaru's here too?" Toko asked.

"Yes, Sayaka invited her over." Kyoko said, "I thought she would come to see you. In fact, I'm surprised you weren't there."

"Psh! Yeah right!" Toko snapped, "what makes you think I would go to a dress-up party!? Like hell I'd want to help you with your stupid date! Wh-What, you think b-because I write r-r-romance novels I know wh-what the ideal d-date outfit is!? Is that it!?"

"Well...I did somewhat think that..." Kyoko admitted, "but I certainly didn't say anything of the sort...Apologies if I wasted your time Toko, but I have about 20 minutes left before I'm supposed to meet with Makoto-AH!?"

Kyoko started to walk past Toko, carrying her glitter soaked clothes, until the author suddenly grabbed her sleeve and pulled her away. Toko thrusted open the door to her room and practically chucked Kyoko inside.

"What the hell are you-UMPH!?" Kyoko snapped, but suddenly Toko threw something at her that hit her and smothered her face. Kyoko grabbed whatever it was that she had tossed and took a look at it. To her surprise, it was a flannel checkered-pattern dress, in pristine condition. Toko also reached into her wardrobe and pulled out some more clothing items. A pair of jeans, a shirt, a white undershirt and a black hat.

"M-My shower still works even is I don't use it," Toko pointed to it, "clean yourself up and put that on so I can fix you up some time BEFORE fucking tomorrow?"

"Toko..." Kyoko was touched by the act of kindness, but Toko still wasn't willing to accept it.

"D-Don't go getting all m-mushy on me!" she snapped, "i-if you hadn't b-brought up Komaru I wouldn't have bothered. If you're an e-embarrassment, her brothers an embarrassment, and if her brother's an embarrassment, K-Komaru herself is an embarrassment! She doesn't need to be more of an emb-barassm-ment than she already is!"

"Fine...in that case, I'll ask this." Kyoko placed the dress down neatly on the desk, "why is there a set of boys clothes with the exact same pattern here?"

"D-Don't you know?" Toko chuckled, "it's a thing c-corny c-couples like you guys do when they go on dates. Th-They wear m-matching clothes so that they c-can brag about th-their relationship to everyone without needing to s-say anything."

"Uh-huh..." Kyoko frowned, "so...you're saying that this getup won't be as effective on it's own until I convince Makoto to wear the other one?"

"Exactly!"

"And...why again do YOU have these clothes?"

"W-Well...it's...y'know, just in case!" Toko giggled, "imagine...Master Byakuya and I, wearing these...We'd attract looks and make everyone feel SO jealous HEHEHEHE!"

The very thought would no doubt irritate Byakuya beyond belief, but Kyoko kept that to herself considering Toko was going out of her way to lend her a hand. She instead looked at the matching pair of clothes and contemplated the situation.

To be honest, she was very torn on the idea. On one hand, the outfit Toko had picked was perfectly suited to the mid-autumn weather, and blended well with the orange afternoon skies and falling leaves of the park, so it was the ideal outfit. On the other hand, the idea of wearing matching outfits and standing out so much bothered Kyoko; plus there was no guarantee Makoto would be on board with the idea.

Still, it was worth a go.

"You know Toko, I think you're selling yourself short. You may think you don't know fashion or couple-related topics, but you're far more knowledgeable than you give yourself credit for," Kyoko smiled, "thanks for your help. Remind me to return the favor when you finally ask Komaru out on a date."

Toko made a noise that sounded very much like a sneeze, so Kyoko readied herself for Genocide Jill to come popping out. However, the "sneeze" was actually a splutter, and Toko glared at Kyoko with daggered eyes and a red face.

"D-DID YOU NOT JUST HEAR WHAT I SAID!? ABOUT ME AND BYAKUYA'S MAGICAL DATE!?" she shrieked, "m-me and OMARU!? I-I'm not-! We're not-!"

"Really? I thought for sure that you two were far too close to just be friends...guess I was wrong..." Kyoko raised an eyebrow.

"W-Well...yeah, we're close but...IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!" Toko snapped.

"You got me a present...!?" Makoto's eyes sparkled, "ooh! What is it!?"

Even for someone as abrasive as Kyoko, the excitement of her boyfriend was far too contagious. Even so, when she finally came forward to Makoto, she still didn't feel certain that this plan was going to work.

"I'm warning you," she said, "it might not turn out to be as good as you're expecting...But..."

Kyoko knew Makoto would be confused when she approached him looking so underdressed, but Makoto's face lit up with a mix of both realization and excitement when she pulled out both his and her outfits from behind her back.

"Wow! What a cute outfit-W-Wait! Is this a pair look!?" he exclaimed, looking back and forth between the outfits and Kyoko's flustered face, his expression growing more nervy, "Oh~? Hm~? Interesting idea Kyoko~ Though I didn't know you were the type."

"W-Well, I'm not..." Kyoko blushed, "the girls gave me some advice earlier and...Toko decided to lend me this. I couldn't exactly turn her down. I was honestly beginning to think that you wouldn't like the idea..."

"Toko? Why does she have an outfit like this?" Makoto asked.

"She claimed it was for a date with Byakuya," Kyoko explained, "which, if we're both being frank, isn't going to happen. Are you sure you're alright with this plan? I thought you'd have picked out your own outfit by now."

"Even if I did, this outfit is a present from you," Makoto grinned, "I'm absolutely going to wear it over any of my regular boring clothes. I really want to match with you."

"Wow that's...great..." Kyoko forced a thumbs up, "I'm...happy that you're happy."

Kyoko wasn't trying to lie through her teeth. She was being genuine, but was trying so hard to contain her joy in seeing Makoto's pure, untainted smile.

"Ok then. Let's change into these and head on out." Makoto took his outfit before Kyoko could say anything and headed off to his room. Kyoko on the other hand, stayed in the dorms lobby.

Even if Makoto approved, she still wasn't totally alright with the whole matching outfits thing. Even though she liked Toko's style, said style didn't really fit her.

Unfortunately, the outfits all the other girls had picked for her worked even less. Especially the weird scene-girl outfit with the puffy coat Komaru had chosen...and the ballgown picked out by Celeste...the Kimono wear Sakura chose wasn't suitable either...and god-forbid the tacky outfit Mukuro had stitched together. Clearly she had a worse fashion sense-than every one of them combined, ironic considering she was the Ultimate Fashionista's twin sister. That said, Junko hadn't been much help either. The outfit she chose was far too revealing.

However, this wasn't the only issue. The thought of being a "corny couple" as Toko had ever-so kindly put it, wasn't exactly appealing. She thought about this for far too long, and eventually, Makoto came back.

She had to admit, the flannel shirt and jeans looked great on him. But Makoto himself looked confused and rather let down.

"You haven't changed yet?" he asked.

"Um...well..." Kyoko scratched her head "I'm sorry...I don't think this style really fits me, so...Do you mind if I wear my normal clothes instead?"

"What, like your uniform or something?" Makoto asked, his heart clearly sinking in his chest just from the change in his expression, "but doesn't that defeat the purpose of matching?"

"Well, I guess so, but the outfit does still look fine on you on it's own," Kyoko said, "it's just...matching is...Well, if I must be honest, it's rather embarrassing..."

Makoto's face was dour and depressed. He looked at the flannel dress with complete and total disappointment.

"E-Embarrassing..." he considered, "you know, I guess you're right...Sorry I got so excited Kyoko..."

Kyoko was a stern figure and was always prepared for the worst possible situations whenever and wherever. She had stared killers in the face and been trapped and kidnapped multiple times over the course of her career. Yet out of everything she'd been up against, the one thing that she could not possibly hope to defeat was the earnesty of the boy she loved.

Kyoko re-examined the outfit. Even though it was a hand-me-down from Toko, which she had practically forced upon her, Kyoko had still brought the outfit to Makoto. She had basically given him half of a whole, and if she didn't wear it, what would even be the point of showing him both outfits?

Besides, it's not like she had many other options.

"You know what? I'm sorry Makoto. I was just thinking too hard about it." she smiled.

"No, no, it's ok!" Makoto assured her, "you don't like it. You don't have to force yourself."

"No, I'm not forcing myself," Kyoko told him, "Toko may have been the one to lend me this outfit, but I gave it to you as a present because I wanted you to be happy...Even though I wasn't sure whether you would be..."

"Aw, Kyoko!" Makoto beamed again, "why didn't you just say that in the first place!?"

Kyoko obviously gave in. She took the outfit and hat back to her room, dressed in both, and then headed out to the park in matching outfits with her boyfriend, sandwiches and other picnic stuff along with them.

"Hey...isn't that...?"

"Those two are members of the 78th class! The Ultimate Detective and this year's Ultimate Lucky Student! Are they on a date!?"

"Dude! They're wearing matching outfits!"

"Y'know, I heard a rumor that they were dating, but I didn't think they were THIS crazy for each other."

"Damn...Didn't think Kirigiri-san was the type..."

It unfortunately became painfully obvious what both Kyoko and Makoto had totally overlooked by the time they actually headed out for their picnic. The park they decided to visit was relatively close to the school building. It was an optimal choice, not just because it was close, but because of how pretty it was at this time of year. The bold and homely colours of the autumn leaves and the golden afternoon sun that shone down on them made this the perfect setting for a romantic time alone together.

Is what WOULD have been the case if they were ACTUALLY alone together. Since they had chosen the time to be right after the end of the school day, a lot of other academy attendees, not just from the main course, but the reserve course as well, were also visiting the park, and recognizing the two on site in their matching outfits. They had even spotted a few people they recognized. Their senpai in Class 77, Chiaki Nanami had said hello to them, accompanied by her friend from the reserve course, Hajime Hinata. They'd even ran into fellow classmate, Kiyotaka Ishimaru, and barely managed to avoid him giving them a lecture on code of conduct and retaining public image, even outside of school grounds.

Toko wasn't kidding about the couple's outfit attracting attention, but this was more than Kyoko bargained for. To be honest, if it was a bunch of random passersby, she might not have minded so much, but the obvious chattering and whispering coming from the people who recognized them were so distinguishable, even Makoto started to look bothered by it.

"Hey, K-Kyoko...Would you like another sandwich?" Makoto handed her some more food.

"Y-Yes please..." she said, shifting awkwardly as she reached out her hand to take it. Makoto leaned in slightly when she did.

"You know, I see what you meant about this being embarrassing..." he lowered his voice, "it's difficult to relax and enjoy ourselves with so many people watching us."

"Tell me about it," Kyoko grumbled, "somehow even this sandwich tastes unusual...God forbid if we run into anyone from my Grandfather's agency here..."

"Knowing my luck, it'd be a miracle if that didn't happen," Makoto scratched his face, "we stand out way too much for our own good."

"Toko did kind of warn me about this, so shame on me for that one," Kyoko hushed, "although, I think the real issue is the dating spot. This place is lovely, but the couples look is embarrassing in such an easily-accessible place like this one."

"Well, I mean...yeah, I'm feeling a little self-conscious," Makoto smiled awkwardly, "but...you know what? It makes for a nice change. In more ways than one."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, I'm not used to getting so much attention from people...Nor am I really used to going on dates in public like this...Especially not with someone as cool and as pretty as you~"

This sudden smooth move almost made Kyoko do a double take, but she retained her composure.

"When you put it like that, I suppose this is a new experience for me too," she smiled, "so long as you're happy, then I'm happy."

"You really mean that? Hehe...In that case~"

Without a word of warning, Makoto suddenly leaned in further and passionately kissed Kyoko on the lips. Her eyes widened, but in spite of the surprised and flustered glares of everyone around them, she didn't even feel the slightest compulsion to pull away.

"Woah! Look at them go!"

"Can't they see us standing here! These two are out of control!"

"So cute! I might have a new OTP!"

"Boyfriend and girlfriend? Nah dude, this is Husband and Wife shit going on right here!"

"Pah! Lousy show-offs! Rubbin' it in everyone's faces just because they happened to strike lucky!"

"Wh-What did you do that for?" Kyoko's lip trembled as Makoto pulled away.

"Tee-hee~ There was a bit of jam left on your lips," Makoto winked, "just getting it off for you~"

"Oh...I see..." Kyoko flushed, but then the realization dawned on her, causing her to frown at Makoto, "wait a minute...I haven't eaten any jam sandwiches...!"

"Hehe...I know..." he giggled cheekily, suddenly standing up and grabbing his wallet, "sit tight for a moment. I'm gonna go buy us some drinks."

Makoto walked off towards a drinks stand nearby, leaving Kyoko by herself with their picnic. Kyoko brushed her lips with her hand.

After a moment, she finally fully processed what had just happened. She double checked, but she indeed hadn't eaten any jam sandwiches since they'd arrived. If there was really nothing on her face, could only mean that Makoto had only kissed her so everyone else would see and be jealous?

"Psh...could he get any cuter?" Kyoko pulled her hat over her eyes and blushed profusely, "though...I wish he wouldn't just leave me alone in full view of everyone by myself..."

Not like the two of them side-by-side in matching outfits was any better. In fact, it was probably worse. But by now, Kyoko had more than accepted that for today, she was in the spotlight, and there was no going back.

Unbeknownst to either one of the Nae-Giri couple though, of all the people in the park who happened to be glancing towards them, they failed to notice the small group of people who were spying on them through binoculars. Curious about what was actually going down following their disastrous dress-up session, Komaru, Sayaka and Hina had decided to check in on the couple. By some unknown feat, Toko had also been dragged along to the park, though she certainly wasn't looking the same way as the others.

"OOOH! So bold!" Sayaka flushed as she saw Makoto kiss her.

"For real! There's so many people looking their way, but he's acting like no one in the world is watching!" Hina's eyes sparkled, "I'm proud of you Makoto! Didn't know you had it in ya'!"

"There's a lot of things about my brother that may surprise you," Komaru giggled, "but...I gotta say, not even I expected he would get them matching outfits to wear. They do look good though."

"Oh? Didn't you know?" Sayaka smiled, "I heard Toko leant Kyoko the outfits, and that she's the one who came up with the idea."

"Wait, for real!?" Hina exclaimed.

"Wh-What's YOUR problem...!?" Toko stammered, "I-I-I know that y-you probably think I'm a h-heartless wench of a w-woman, but I can be nice wh-when I want to be! Besides, i-if this moron hadn't covered Kyoko in g-glitter, I might not have b-bothered!"

"Eeehehe...Guilty as charged on that one..." Komaru chuckled nervously.

"B-By the way, s-speaking of heartless, it's p-pretty cruel of you t-to be spying on them like this. Keep going if you're getting a kick out of it, b-but I'm out of here."

Toko turned tail and began to leave, but Komaru suddenly rushed over and grabbed her arm.

"Toko, wait!"

"D-DAMMIT! What!?" she turned around and snapped. Komaru took hold of her hand and held it close, a huge grin on her face.

"I...I just wanted to say thanks a whole bunch for helping my brother and his girlfriend on their date. It was really cool of you!" she laughed, "who knew you were such a softy under all that awkward."

Toko stared at her, unable to tell whether the bright light that shone on her glasses was coming from the sun low in the sky, or from Komaru herself. Her face began to grow red, until she turned around and started stomping away.

"It's getting c-cold!" she snapped, "if I stay out here any longer I might sneeze!"

"H-Huh!? But...you look warm as toast! Toko, where are you going!?" Komaru called after her. As Toko rushed away, she cursed in her mind.

Damn those Naegi's and their contagious smiles...

#naegiri #naegiri week #naegiri week 2022 #kyoko kirigiri #makoto naegi #danganronpa #danganronpa 1 #dr1 #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #komaru naegi #toko fukawa #tokomaru

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